The welcome lecture was still in progress when Ryvan left. Awkwardly squeezing past the students who were still focused on the person speaking from the podium, Ryvan winced—he would rather stay than attend the executive board meeting of one of his parents’ businesses.

Outside, Colton and his tattooed friend were smoking. Colton was easy to recognise: Tall, muscular with some extra weight, black hair, part of it dyed in a strange shade of purple and silver ear piercings. His friend had a similar build with the exception that he was slimmer, with blonde and red shoulder-length hair worn in a ponytail and instead of hair, a black dragon tattoo covered a side of his scalp. Defying the weather, he was clad in a midnight-black tank top.  

Ryvan coughed when the acrid smoke stung in his lungs. Eager to stay clear of the unpleasant guys and the smell, he walked on the other side of the footpath—but of course, they noticed him. 

“Hey Leander, it’s that fucker again,” Colton said before turning to Ryvan. “What are you staring at, kiddo?” He spat on the ground. “I don’t like rich kids, ya know.”

Ryvan gulped and grabbed his Saffiano leather business bag tighter. “I think the designated smoking area is over there.” He pointed towards an area beyond the trees. “If you excuse me now, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Meeting my ass.” Colton dropped his cigarette butt on the ground. “Think you’re so cool, do you? Why don’t ya come with me for a sec?” 

Ryvan was about to decline when Colton put his arm around Ryvan’s shoulders. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the smell of smoke and pungent sweat.

“No need to be shy.” The brute steered him to a small alley between the Department of Management and the adjacent building, where even sunlight could not reach. Some pitiful weeds had grown through the pavement, reeking of booze and urine.

“I really need to go now,” Ryvan said, although he knew it was useless. The sickness in his stomach returned, only a thousandfold stronger, knowing that there would be neither saviours nor witnesses other than the wilted dandelions that would hardly speak in his favour.

While still considering his non-existent options, pain suddenly jolted through Ryvan’s head and he was thrown back by the impact of Colton’s fist. Blood dripped onto his shirt. The punch had been so fast that he hadn’t even seen it coming. 

Yet even though he was little more than a punchbag for the seasoned fighters, Ryvan felt no fear and all nervousness was gone. Instead, his heart raced and his senses sharpened. Suddenly, he could smell the earthy scent of the woodland, almost taste it, and perceive every detail of his attackers in crystal clarity.  

What would they do next? Perhaps he could dodge and fight back. Even though his opponents were bigger than him, they would surely show an opening. 

But Colton and his friend seemed bored already. “One hit is all this sorry bastard can take,” the tattooed guy commented, disappointment written on his face. “Guess this place really is different from home.”

“This place is our fucking new home, Leander. Violence won’t get us far here,” Colton replied, although his facial expression was the same as that of his friend. 

Leander gave his friend a dirty look. "Piss off! You just used your fist!"

The sudden change in atmosphere took Ryvan by surprise. Although the punch had been impactful, he was still standing and able to fight back. Nonetheless, the bullies left him like a broken toy.

In the nineteen years Ryvan had been alive, nobody had ever dared to lay a finger on him; just mentioning his name was enough to turn every foe into a friend. But it wouldn’t work at Fairlight, and Ryvan didn’t want it to. He was almost grateful to Colton for not treating him specially. If only he was stronger, if only he could fight back.

Finally, the adrenaline rush stopped and Ryvan felt his knees become weak. The bleeding had already stopped but the pain increased in intensity. Now more rational, Ryvan realised how much Colton must have held back—otherwise, he would have been left with broken bones and a trip to the hospital. 

“You alright?” someone asked. “Was this Colton’s and Leander’s doing?” 

Taren. Why of all people did it have to be him? He would have been grateful to meet anybody else but in front of the Crow, he felt nothing but embarrassment. “I’m fine, it’s nothing,” Ryvan replied, trying—and failing—to imitate Taren’s nonchalant tone. 

“Nothing?” Taren asked, now amused. “There is blood on your shirt.” 

Even though he had a point, his manner was irritating. It was really just a minor stain, about the size of a fingernail, only standing out due to the cream colour of his cashmere shirt. “It’s tomato sauce.” 

Taren didn’t argue. “Is it? There is tomato sauce on your face as well then. Can’t be that bad though seeing that you are still able to stand.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Ryvan responded. How weak did Taren presume he was? "It was my first time in a fight. It was... liberating."

"Not much of a fight, was it though?" Even though he hadn't seen what had happened, Taren was probably able to predict the course of the encounter given the obvious differences in their physiques. The Crow shrugged. "Whatever, just don’t report those two assholes. They’re having difficulties settling in.”

His cold eyes made him seem like an emotionless gangster, but Ryvan had to admit that Taren seemed to care deeply for his friends. “I’m not planning to report it but my parents will find out when they see the blood.” His adventure at Fairlight would probably be over as soon as the family's staff, or the executive board members for that matter, had a single glance at him. 

“You live with your parents?” Taren didn’t wait for a reply. “Come with me. I’ll fix your shirt and you can freshen up.” 

He still had a meeting to attend but it wasn’t like Ryvan could go there with bloodstains on his clothes and face. And Taren was much more intriguing than the dull get-together of middle-aged men in suits...

The smell of the alley lingered on his clothes even as he followed Taren to the residential area. On the campus, he already felt like a fish out of water but the knowledge that his Eau de Parfum stood no chance against the cologne named ‘street urinal’ made him feel even more self-conscious.  

Taren didn’t seem to mind though. “I’ve smelled worse,” he remarked unfazed as he walked past the three large dormitories, large and modern blocks second in height only to the library.

“I thought you lived on campus, am I mistaken?" Ryvan asked, wondering where they were headed. 

Taren didn't reply, not even as they walked down a small path, leading away from the road and ending at a dilapidated building. It was much smaller than the dormitories—and in a much worse state. The paint was coming off the wall, a few windows were broken, and the front door didn’t shut.

Ryvan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, not even as they entered the damp corridor leading to Taren’s ground-floor flat. The door was only held up by one angle and it was too dark to even make out its colour. The hallway beyond the door wasn’t in any better shape; the lonely lightbulb failed miserably at providing sufficient light. 

“Colton and Leander live upstairs. They went to the library, so you should be safe for now,” Taren explained, his voice echoing in the hallway. From the sound of clinking metal, Ryvan knew he was searching for his keys as he spoke. “Though you really seem into being a punchbag.” 

“No need to make fun of me,” Ryvan complained weakly as he followed Taren into his room. Thanks to a large bay window, it was bright, a sharp contrast to the gloomy corridor. Ryvan’s gaze wandered over the well-used furniture, a bed, a desk and a wardrobe bare of any personal items. He wondered what it felt like to live here, an ordinary student with an ordinary room.

“Your shirt.”

Ryvan felt his face flushing as the other student looked at him expectantly. Was he supposed to change in front of Taren?

“Here.” Taren tossed him one of his shirts of a similar colour. He then pointed towards a small door, probably leading to the bathroom. “I won’t peek. Don’t worry, I’m into tits."  

Ryvan didn't miss the mocking undertone. Evidently, the Crow was beating him just like his bully friends had, just with words rather than violence. Ryvan felt ashamed that he lost either way. 

By the time he had finished in the bathroom, Taren was already back with his shirt. “The damn stain didn’t come out. I’ll throw it in the wash and return it later. Just keep wearing mine.”

Ryvan nodded. Taren’s shirt was not as comfortable as his own, not to mention the obvious difference in quality, but at least the size fitted more or less. 

“Since you’re here, you might as well tell me your secret,” the Crow said suddenly, his hands on his hips. “With your demeanour and your designer clothes, you are clearly no ordinary student. Who are you?”

For a second, Ryvan thought his heart was stopping. He froze as a million thoughts formed in his mind at the same time. Had Taren seen through him already? What was his plan? The Crow stood between him and the door; there was no way he would be able to escape.“What do you mean?” After calming down, Ryvan decided to feign innocence. Taren had given him a clean shirt, so he probably intended to let him go at some point.

“Don’t try to fool me.” With his menacing tone and cold eyes, Ryvan felt trapped in a gangster movie. The rumours about the Crow were true—and it was too late to get away. “Did Ivory send you?”

“Who’s that? What are you going—” Ryvan didn’t manage to finish the question as cold steel pressed against his throat. It was the backside of a pocket knife in Taren’s hand.

Instinctively, he wanted to jump back but Taren’s arm was already blocking his way. Even though the Crow was smaller than him, the difference in strength was obvious: Ryvan couldn’t move an inch.

Taren was so close, and the way the Crow held him could be that of a lover if it weren’t for the deadly blade between them. Yet Ryvan felt his cheeks burning, and his heart pounded so loudly he worried Taren would hear it. Through the clothes, he could feel the other student’s arm rubbing against his back, tensed muscles that formed his prison but also awakened frenzied butterflies in Ryvan’s stomach. 

“Taking me for a fool was your first mistake; don’t make a second one.” Colton’s punch hadn’t scared him, but Taren’s tone sent shivers down Ryvan’s spine. There was a reason nobody dared disobey him. His voice demanded absolute obedience, and his icy cold eyes belonged to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if it served his purpose.

“I- I’ll tell you.” Ryvan surrendered to both fear and inappropriate attraction. 

Even after Taren had withdrawn the knife, Ryvan still felt paralysed. Then, slowly, he put a hand on his chest. His heart beat so rapidly that the corners of his lips curled into a grin. The Crow’s action had been so raw and honest—an anomaly in Ryvan’s sheltered life where everyone vied for his favour.

“So?” Taren sat on the bed as if nothing had happened and the knife had vanished. With a gesture, he invited Ryvan to sit on the only chair in the room. “Who sent you here?”

Finally, Ryvan allowed himself to relax. It didn’t look like Taren was after his money or his family, he just wanted information. Perhaps the Crow mistook him for someone else or was just curious. “Nobody sent me. It was my own choice to come here.” A choice he was proud of. 

“Why?” Taren asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t want to do everything my parents say. I wanted to make my own decisions and live my own life. When driving by Fairlight, I always saw the students outside, living their happy and ordinary lives so I decided to study here.”

“That’s all?” 

“That’s all,” Ryvan confirmed sourly. Taren didn’t seem to appreciate how much effort it had taken him to convince his parents. “I want to be ordinary.”

After his reply, Taren’s muscles relaxed and the tension in the air dispersed. “And your parents are?”

Ryvan realised that he hadn’t introduced himself. “How rude of me. I’m Ryvan Nightingale, heir to the Nightingale Corporation. I’m sure you must have heard of my family; we own multiple businesses and properties in England and abroad. By the way...” he added, more hesitantly, “how did you know? Do I really stand out this much?”

“Not that much,” Taren replied. “But I’ve dealt with enough spoiled idiots to know when I see one. Quite a few of them are dead now.”

Ryan gulped. There was no threat in the Crow’s voice, he spoke as if he merely stated a fact which was even more disturbing.

“An ordinary life, hm?" Taren contemplated as if his last words didn’t exist. “I’d like one of those, too.”

“You stand out even more than me.” Ryvan felt proud of his retort. For once, he won the verbal fight that only existed in his imagination. 

But he didn’t enjoy the feeling of victory for long. Taren clearly didn’t think of Ryvan as an opponent for word games. “Whatever. Colton and Leander will be back soon, so you better leave.”  

Ryvan gritted his teeth, although he was relieved that he could leave safely, he wanted to talk to the Crow for longer. After spilling his secret, he had gotten nothing in return. Taren was still the same enigma he had been before.