⛧°. ⋆༺⛧°. ⋆༺☾✹༻⋆. °⛧༻⋆. °⛧

As twilight settled over Celentine Academy, Aster let out a small sigh and set her pen aside. At last, her essay for the assignment was finished. The library, once bustling with students, had quieted to a hushed murmur. Ranley had long since left, leaving her to finish her duties alone—sorting books and ensuring the archives were in order. Surely, Madame Briswell, still tucked away in her office, would soon dismiss her for the evening.

With her responsibilities finally done, she noticed how late it had grown.

She still had Ranley’s essay to complete. Part of her urged her to finish it here, but the dull ache in her fingers persuaded her otherwise. I’ll do it at home, she decided.

Gathering her things, she slung her satchel over her shoulder and stacked a few reference books in her arms. Her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone.

‘Was I being partial?’

She had turned down Flavia and her friends without a second thought, yet for Ranley, she agreed. 

‘Doesn’t that make me unfair?’

But no—neither of them were right. It wasn’t fair for Flavia to expect her to do their work. And it wasn’t fair for Ranley to ask, either.

‘Maybe I’m the worst of all—for letting myself be swayed.’

Still… she hesitated. 

‘Maybe this is different. Maybe this is my chance. For once, Lord Ranley’s noticing me. If it brings me a step closer, is it really so wrong?’

Lost in that tug-of-war with herself, she turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

Aster gasped, stepping back instinctively, but she miscalculated. The weight of the books threw off her balance, and the world tilted before she could catch herself.

Just as she braced for impact, a firm hand caught her wrist, pulling her upright with ease.

A flicker of images surfaced in her memory, like déjà-vu… cold water, a desperate gasp for air, a hand grasping hers, pulling her up from drowning.

“Are you okay?”

The voice echoed—two voices overlapping, one from the past and one from the present.

“Are you okay?”

The tone was calm and steady.

Before the memory could fully take shape, she blinked… and it was Randall standing before her.

“I told you to be more careful next time, didn’t I?”

Aster froze, eyes widening.

“Wh—what? So… you knew?!”

A sudden rush of emotion flooded her, her cheeks heating against her will. Hoping to hide her expression, she knelt quickly to pick up the fallen books. Randall crouched beside her, gathering them as well.

To her surprise, a low chuckle slipped from him… quiet, almost amused.

“You look better in that uniform than in your last disguise.”

Aster froze, staring at him. 

‘Is he… teasing me? The man who seemed so reserved and unreadable actually laughed at me?’

Her heart gave a strange little jolt. “Is it really that funny?” she muttered, flustered. “I was certain no one would mistake me for a girl back then…”

Randall’s eyes met hers, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Only a fool would mistake you for a boy.”

Aster blinked, warmth rising to her cheeks again. But then her mind flashed back to the market.

‘Wait… wasn’t it his right-hand man who called me ‘young man’ while scolding me? So… is he saying his own friend is a fool?’

She quickly shook her head, pushing aside the thought. Regaining her composure, she straightened, cradling the books in her arms.

“I never got the chance to thank you properly that time,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I ran off so abruptly.”

Then, lowering into a graceful curtsy, she met his gaze once more.

“Once again, thank you for saving me. Truly, I will never forget your kindness.”

Randall smiled, his chuckle barely audible. Without another word, he picked up a few of the books she carried and began walking alongside her.

“Why are you still here this late?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying a faint curiosity.

“I was finishing my assignments,” she replied, adjusting the books in her arms. “And… I’m helping Lord Ranley with his essay.”

Randall’s steps slowed slightly. “You’re writing it for him?”

Aster hesitated, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Well… it’s not a big deal,” she said, though even she knew it wasn’t entirely true. “I mean… I admire him.”

Randall said nothing, his gaze briefly meeting hers before drifting away.

“Oh?” he muttered.

That single, quiet word was all he offered, yet the faint inflection made Aster shift uncomfortably. Eager to fill the silence, she cleared her throat, searching for something to say.

“What about you? Why are you still here? Shouldn’t your carriage be waiting?”

Randall remained reserved, his answer short. “I live in the dormitory.”

Aster nodded, unsure how to continue the conversation. Before she could think of anything else to say, they reached the library’s entrance.

“Here,” he said, handing back the books he had helped carry.

“Oh, thank you. But… you’re not leaving?” she asked, curiosity mingling with relief.

“I left my essay and other things at the table,” he explained casually. “I had just finished returning the books I used when I almost collided with you. I only stepped out to help.”

“I see. I’m sorry… I didn’t even realize,” she murmured, slightly flustered.

“You don’t have to apologize every time,” he said, voice low and smooth.

“I’m sor—” Aster stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she was about to say. She made an awkward little smile. “Oops. Almost said it again.”

“Pfft.” Randall turned slightly, trying to suppress a quiet laugh. Aster felt her chest flutter.

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” he said.

“Uhmm… Don’t stay up too late,” Aster reminded him.

“The same goes for you,” he replied. “It’s getting late. Hurry before the last carriage leaves you.”

With that, they went their separate ways, the evening air cool against her skin. Yet even as she made her way home, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had been more significant than she realized.

₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

After helping Aster, Randall had gone back inside briefly to gather his things. Now, stepping out of the library toward his dormitory, he sensed he wasn’t alone—the weight of someone’s gaze lingered just behind him.

“If you’re going to follow me everywhere, you might as well study here,” he muttered.

A shadow shifted, and Wren—his right-hand man from the market—stepped forward.

“You make it hard to keep my peace when you act recklessly, your-“

“Wren.” Randall cut him off, his tone firm. “Not here. Walls have ears.”

Wren nodded, understanding the unspoken warning, and gave a silent bow of acknowledgment.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧