Lucien Ashford stepped off the train and onto the platform, his cold grey eyes scanning the surroundings with detached indifference. Coming from Blackthorn Academy, an exclusive all-boys school known for its rigor and prestige, Lucien was here to represent his school at the regional math contest. His exceptional intellect and icy demeanor had made him the perfect candidate, and he couldn’t be bothered to care about the pomp that came with it.

“Your room is ready, Mr. Ashford,” Mr. Kensington, his teacher, said nervously, handing him the key. “Dinner’s at seven.”

Lucien nodded without a word, brushing past him as he entered the room. It was luxurious, with polished wood furniture and a large window overlooking manicured gardens. He dropped his suitcase beside the desk and glanced at the door that connected his room to the one next door. He could hear faint humming from the other side.

Later, Lucien wandered the hallways, the quiet of the school enveloping him. As he rounded a corner, he collided with someone—hard enough to make them stumble back.

"Watch where you’re going," Lucien said, his voice sharp.

“Excuse me?” came a defiant reply. Lucien looked up to see a girl from an all-girls school, her green eyes locking onto his with a challenge. Her brown hair was neatly braided, and she stood with an unflinching confidence that intrigued him.

"Figures," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "A Blackthorn student. Always so... frosty."

Lucien raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "And you are?"

"Not your concern, Mr. Frost." With a smirk, she brushed past him, heading into the room next to his.

Lucien stood for a moment, his mind turning over the brief encounter. A challenge, certainly. This math contest was starting to feel a lot less predictable.