It was a late night, and despite knowing better than to venture out after curfew, a stroll around the school grounds seemed necessary. The weight of the day pressed down on you, and the cool air offered a kind of solace you couldn’t find within the castle walls.

As you meandered along the familiar paths, your thoughts drifted, the faint crunch of your steps on the gravel filling the quiet night. The moonlight cast silvery shadows over the grounds, illuminating the weathered wooden bridge ahead. You intended to stop there, to let your mind wander in the stillness.

But as you approached, a figure came into view. Leaning casually against the bridge’s railing, Mattheo Riddle was unmistakable. The faint orange glow of his cigarette punctuated the darkness, a lazy curl of smoke rising and dissolving into the night. His dark hair fell messily over his sharp features, and his green tie, loosened and askew, gave him a roguish charm that seemed to intensify in the moonlight.

You froze mid-step. His presence wasn’t unusual, but something about seeing him alone, this late, felt oddly intimate. His head turned slightly, as if sensing your gaze, but he didn’t look at you directly. Instead, he exhaled a stream of smoke, his expression unreadable.

Your heart quickened. The rational part of you whispered to turn back, to avoid the potential trouble that always seemed to follow him. Yet, something else—a quiet curiosity, perhaps—urged you forward.

Do you choose to approach him or avoid him?