“Alright, get some proper rest now.” Loewen mumbled as he finally pried Felix off him.

Felix reluctantly let go, sniffling as his reddened eyes unconsciously drifted to Loewen’s collarbone. His gaze froze for a moment.

“I’m leaving.” Loewen rose to his feet, but before he could take a step, Felix caught him by the tip of his fingers.

“Miss Flenqi!”

“What now?” Even Loewen’s patience had its limits.

“Your, uh… your collar…” Felix’s voice trailed off awkwardly. A strange look flickered across his face.

Loewen followed his gaze, glanced down—and immediately turned to stone.

Ahhhhh—!!

All he’d done was comfort this little brat a bit, and somehow the cotton padding in his blouse had gotten squeezed out of his collar!

Loewen’s face drained of color, then flushed red in quick succession. But he pulled himself together almost instantly — years of growing a thick skin had paid off.

Felix kept glancing up at him, hesitant and awkward.

“…Well, you caught me.” Loewen’s mind raced at lightning speed as he came up with an idea. Without batting an eye, he calmly stuffed the cotton back.

“Since you found out, I might as well let you in on a little secret.” Loewen leaned in slightly, eyes sharp and unreadable as they locked onto Felix.

Felix flinched at that gaze, sensing a chill behind it. “W-What is it?”

Loewen smiled—so sweet, so gentle it almost seemed kind. “Actually… I’m a late bloomer. My chest is all padding.”

Felix: “???”

Loewen raised a finger to his lips. His voice was smooth yet terrifying. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone… I’ll kill you.”

Felix: “!!!”

***

Morning broke gently over the academy grounds. Sunlight brushed across the earth like a soft caress.

The cafeteria was already bustling with life. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, drawing sleepy-eyed students in like moths to a flame.

Loewen appeared at the cafeteria entrance, looking well-rested and refreshed, with a thick stack of study materials cradled in his arms. Without sparing a glance at anyone, he made a beeline for his usual corner seat.

Felix was already there, waiting dutifully. As soon as he heard approaching footsteps, he looked up, and waved eagerly like a puppy trying to please its master. “Miss Flenqi! I already got your favorite croissants and brewed your green tea just the way you like it. Come sit!”

Loewen cast him a glance, expression unreadable. The young man looked so much like an eager little pup—his eyes practically wagging a tail.

Resigned to his fate of having adopted a clingy sidekick, Loewen sighed quietly and sat down beside him.

The moment he did, Felix pushed a tray loaded with food toward him like he was presenting a tribute.

Loewen stared at the tray for a moment, wondering to himself if this kid was planning to latch onto him forever. Was he dead set on being his “best friend” now?

“Miss Flenqi, why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like it? I can get you something else if you want…” Felix asked carefully, peeking at him like a child waiting for praise.

Loewen snapped out of his thoughts and picked up the croissant, taking a bite. “No need. This is plenty. Thanks.”

With that, he opened a book and began reading, sparing Felix only a brief glance.

Felix sensed that Loewen wasn’t in the mood to talk, so he quietly ate his breakfast, holding back his earlier enthusiasm and letting his expression settle.

But his mind was far from calm.

He couldn’t figure out why this so-called “useless young lady” still kept her guard up around him, like she was always drawing a clear line between them. Yesterday, she had even hugged him and patted his back—so gentle, so kind. But now, she was back to being cold and indifferent.

And come to think of it… ever since she’d bumped her head, she’d been acting like a completely different person.

Wasn’t the Flenqi girl supposed to be some pampered, sheltered noble with no ambition? When did she turn into a bookworm who spent her days buried in study?

While Felix was lost in thought, a shadow suddenly fell across their table.

“Good morning, Shillman. Morning, Miss Flenqi.”

Felix looked up and saw Oran Flynn standing there, his expression as composed as ever.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Felix’s eyes before he quickly masked it with a friendly smile. “Good morning, Class President.”

Oran, ever the sociable one, casually slid his tray onto the seat across from Loewen and sat down without waiting for an invitation. As he gracefully sliced into his food with a silver knife, his gaze lifted toward Felix, full of concern.

“How’s the injury? Feeling any better?”

Felix barely spared him a glance, and his tone was light and indifferent.

“A scratch. Not worth mentioning. But thank you for your concern.”

Oran chuckled quietly, stealing a side glance at Loewen before returning his attention to Felix. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Did you know? Yesterday, Miss Flenqi actually thought you were—”

“Shut up!”

Before he could finish, Loewen exploded like a startled cat, practically leaping out of his seat. His right knee knocked against the table as he lunged forward, stretching halfway across the tabletop to clamp his hand tightly over Oran’s mouth.

“Mmph! Mmm-mm-mmph!”

Oran struggled, but Loewen’s grip was solid. His shoulders trembled with barely suppressed laughter, eyes squinting into two mischievous crescent moons.

Felix’s face darkened noticeably.

So this is how casually this noble lady allows physical contact with men?

No wonder she acted like it was nothing yesterday when she hugged me and patted my back so… intimately.

Irritated without knowing why, Felix reached out, and tugged Loewen’s arm back toward him.

“Miss Flenqi, stop crawling over the table. You’re going to knock over the tea.”

Loewen, who was still baring his teeth at Oran like a cornered beast, finally registered his own ungainly posture. Realizing how undignified he must look, he awkwardly climbed back into his seat, and then smoothed down his uniform as if nothing happened.

He grabbed his teacup and took a long gulp, trying to drown the embarrassment. His eyes locked onto Oran’s, sharp and dangerous.

“Class President, you know full well that was just a misunderstanding. How about you stop bringing it up?”

Oran hummed, tone teasing.

“Fair enough. Then I suppose you owe me one now, Miss Flenqi. I’ll make sure to keep my mouth shut next time.”

So you’ve got something on me, huh?!

Loewen silently drained another sip of tea, trying to swallow down the frustration.

Just then, a lazy, drawn-out voice drifted over from nearby.

“Hey… why’re you sitting over here today? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

A guy sauntered over, a silver star-shaped class badge pinned to his chest. His gait was unhurried, one hand shoved casually into his pocket, the other dragging along a slouching book bag. Tousled short hair brushed against his lashes, giving him a constantly drowsy look.

Oran didn’t even need to look up. He waved lazily.

“Over here. Sit down.”

The guy flopped into the empty seat next to Oran, slouching so much he practically melted into the chair. Without a second thought, he reached for Oran’s glass of milk and downed it in one gulp, leaving a frothy white ring around his lips like a ridiculous milk mustache.

With no shame at all, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot Oran a pointed glare.

“Be honest. You’re hiding from me, aren’t you? Didn’t wanna lend me your homework, so you picked this godforsaken corner to camp out in? Only shut-ins sit in spots like this.”

The so-called “shut-in,” Loewen, twitched at the corner of his mouth, obviously feeling offended.

Who the hell is this brat?