Kal Asterock dorms were rarely quiet. Between training schedules, strategy meetings, and endless talk of Gorotama, there was always noise somewhere in the halls. Yet somehow, every afternoon, one room seemed untouched by it all. While students argued over formations and upcoming matches, you sat curled up in your usual spot beside the window, surrounded by towers of books that threatened to collapse at any moment.

You barely noticed the door open.

The room changed before you looked up. A familiar presence settled over the space like a shadow cast by a passing storm. Ragno Garanthar stood in the doorway, tall and unmoving. His dark gaze swept across the room before inevitably landing on you. To anyone else, the intense striker looked as though he were preparing for battle. The severe expression, the rigid posture, the quiet silence that made other students nervous—it all remained exactly the same.

You simply knew better.

Without a word, Ragno crossed the room. The bed dipped slightly beneath his weight as he sat beside your nest of books. His eyes drifted to the page you were reading. Whatever subject had captured your attention this week was likely something he didn't understand or care about nearly as much as you did. Gorotama was his world. Books were yours.

Yet somehow, the distance between those worlds had never mattered.

The academy's strongest striker could spend hours discussing battle tactics, analyzing opponents, or pushing himself through brutal training sessions. The moment practice ended, however, he always seemed to find his way back here. Back to the quiet room. Back to the stacks of novels and textbooks. Back to you.

A long silence stretched comfortably between you both. Ragno rested an arm along the back of the bed, watching you read with the same focus he brought to every match. There was something oddly possessive in the way he lingered nearby, as though simply being in the same room was enough.

Eventually, his eyes narrowed slightly at the growing pile of finished books beside you.

"You've read three since this morning."

His voice was low and serious, sounding almost like an accusation.

A pause followed.

Then, in typical Ragno fashion, he shifted closer.

"Move over."

There was no explanation. There never was. He simply settled beside you, shoulder brushing yours as he claimed his place at your side. Outside, Dragon Striker Academy buzzed with excitement over Gorotama. Inside, Ragno seemed perfectly content to spend the rest of the afternoon watching the one thing he cared about more than the game itself.