Upon entering the classroom, her magic sparked eagerly at the taste of something new. Someone had placed an illusion over the room, and her magic rushed out to sample it. It lacked the unique flavor of Innate Magic, so it was probably a seal.

Butcher's form radiated stress. Most people could sense it when others used the same type of magic as their Innate Magic, though only Sensors could feel all kinds of magic. For Butcher to know he was surrounded by an illusion not of his own making must be quite disconcerting. 

Without any conscious thought, Claire dropped into the seat next to Butcher. He flinched ever so slightly. People rarely sat next to him. Claire smiled slightly at him and then focused on preparing for class while considering the illusion around them. 

This class was Political and Religious Geography. During the Fall and Winter terms, they’d learned the layout of their world from Granera to Alhere and from Ibrix to Xerexs. Time was even spent on the wastelands between Alhere and the End Throne. Now, in Spring, they were learning about the governments and politics of their neighboring countries, and they’d learn about the religions governing many of them during Summer. 

For Claire, it was a frustratingly easy class, given that her father demanded his children know these things before they hit puberty. Still, she understood why others needed it and, on occasion, the teacher mentioned something she either hadn’t learned or had forgotten, so she typically used her focusing technique to force herself to pay attention. Today, though, she let her attention drift. Her gaze slid to the blank paper in front of Butcher. He wasn’t taking notes either. Given his former occupation, he probably knew the material at least as well as she did. 

Butcher noticed her looking and shrugged half-heartedly. Claire smiled back and pushed her notebook closer to him, then wrote, Do you know what’s under the illusion?

His eyes widened marginally. Claire wasn’t sure why he looked surprised. After a moment, Butcher shook his head. Another moment of visible hesitation, and he took her pen from her. He sketched a quick map of their classroom, marking their location. Then he marked another spot near the front of the room, just a little to the left of their teacher. 

Claire nodded. That did seem to be where the illusion was centered, but… She took back her pen and drew an arrow from the original location. It was moving. A person? She drew a little stick figure and glanced at Butcher. 

His expression was more appraising now, and she felt the first stirrings of desire.

That wasn’t unusual. Most people found Sensors attractive, and she was used to her magic reflecting that desire to her. That was a second-hand, second-rate emotion that she’d learned to discard. What she wasn’t used to was having that desire stem from herself. She’d never once before had any natural interest in another.

It was an utterly foreign concept, so much so that it took her several minutes to process that she was, apparently, capable of finding others desirable. She’d very much thought that was something that had been broken out of her, if it had ever been there in the first place. 

Claire bit her lip and tore her gaze away from Butcher. This seemed excessive. Thinking back over her behavior since she first noticed him, a new suspicion came to mind. She’d been oddly focused on him, hadn’t she? She’d explained it away by claiming him as her mystery, but with this added data, it seemed likely to be something more. She focused, carefully examining her magic and Butcher's in turn. 

Sure enough, now that she was looking for it, she realized that hers wasn’t the only magic reshaping itself to better match the other person. Butcher’s magic was doing the same. That meant that this wasn't just attraction, but resonance. Her breath grew shallow. Dear goddess, they hadn’t even touched yet. It was with great effort that she remained still. 

For his part, Butcher didn’t seem to have realized yet. That was unsurprising. Claire only recognized it because of the pseudo-resonance Sensors so often endured. Claire took a deep breath and set it aside. Even if Butcher was her ideal match (and resonance didn’t guarantee such a thing, no matter what romance novels said), so long as she remained under her father’s control, she couldn’t escape the duties he thrust upon her. It was better to pretend she hadn’t noticed anything.

She turned back toward the front of the class, following Butcher’s gaze. He seemed to be watching the person under the illusion, even though he couldn’t possibly see through it. A good seal wasn’t something that could be pierced through so easily. His emotions were jumping in sharp spikes of fear, anger, and confusion that made it hard for Claire to breathe. Was he worried about the illusion, or had he noticed the effects of the resonance?

The first time Claire had experienced pseudo-resonance, she’d been terrified and filled with self-loathing, believing the feelings welling up within her to be hers. Though Claire doubted the feelings Butcher was receiving from her were as disgusting as the ones she’d felt then, feeling others’ emotions as your own was unsettling. Claire took back her notebook and turned her attention away from Butcher. 

The class was long. Throughout it, Claire sensed the illusion meandering casually through the classroom. When it approached her seat, she smelled the faint scent of cherry blossoms.

Butcher’s emotions, impossible for her not to pick up on from this distance, warred with each other. They were wild in a way she normally only felt from young children, making her remember Hektor’s words. Claire could easily imagine this sort of instability resulting from letting Marissa raise a child.  

At last, class ended. Claire waited for the rest of the class to leave before she packed her belongings and made to stand. Butcher wasn’t moving, though. Claire bit her lip. This day was already weird enough, but she couldn’t help asking, “Are you coming?” 

After several moments, he nodded and stood. As they left the classroom, Claire noticed the illusion fading, but she didn’t see anyone there. Butcher called her attention back before she could look more carefully. “Sorry, what’s your name?” he asked. 

Claire frowned. “Claire Benefeld. And you’re Glenn Butcher,” she replied a bit more sharply than she’d intended. They’d shared at least two classes a day for more than half a year already. One didn’t have to be an aspiring detective to remember their classmates’ names. And she was, after all, fairly infamous. 

If he noticed her irritation, he didn’t react, instead merely continuing, “You’re a Sensor then?”

Was she a - did he pay any attention to others? Everyone knew she was a Sensor, and everyone knew her name. How could they not? Her father’d sold nights with her to enough of their classmates by now. “Yes,” she replied finally. 

Butcher just nodded to himself and left. 

Claire scrambled to catch up, but he was walking swiftly, and she realized with some frustration that they didn’t share their next class. His was… She plopped herself down onto a bench and checked her notebook. Yes, he had Arithmetic Programs next, while she had Ancient Literature. She scowled. Normally, she enjoyed that class, as it was one of the few she didn’t have a head start in, but today she seriously considered skipping it. With a deep breath, she shook herself. Following Butcher to all his classes would be stupid. Part of the point of investigating her classmates was to practice getting information without getting caught. Following someone into a class she didn’t share with them was the opposite of subtle. Annoyed with herself for the impulse, she made her way to her first elective of the day. 

Class had almost started when someone sat down next to her. That wasn’t unusual. However, when she smelled cherry blossoms, she swallowed hard. Trying not to betray her sudden nerves, she turned to find herself face-to-face with someone she’d never seen before. The girl looked a little bit older than her, maybe in her early twenties, and had long, long red hair tied back in a messy braid. Her light blue eyes were unnervingly bright, and her skin was far too pale for this clime. Perhaps she was from Ibrix?

The girl held out a hand, offering an artificial smile. “My name is RIN. I’m transferring into this school soon. Pleased to meet you.” Even the way she spoke was artificial. 

Claire took the hand hesitantly. “Claire Benefeld, and likewise.”  

“I’m sure.” 

In addition to the entirely fake-looking smile, the girl’s emotions felt fake. Claire had felt all manner of emotions from others over her life. While there was some variation in the timbre and intensity of the emotions, they all felt more or less the same. This girl’s feelings, while faintly present, were different. If ordinary people’s emotions were water, this girl’s emotions were alcohol - they possessed similar qualities and could fill similar containers, but they were distinctly different substances.

The teacher was standing at the front of the lecture hall now, speaking, but RIN didn’t seem to care. Instead, she asked, “Are you and Glenn close?” 

“Close?” Claire ignored the way her heart beat faster and shook her head. “No. I think today’s the first time we’ve ever spoken.” 

RIN settled. “Oh, alright then.”

Claire bit her lip, mustered her courage, and asked, “How do you know Butcher?”

RIN shrugged. “He’s my partner. He disappeared while I was indisposed, so I had to track him down.” 

Claire didn’t know how to respond to that. Where Butcher’s status as a former secret agent hadn’t bothered her, RIN’s words changed the feel of the situation. Why would his partner need to track him down? Had she defected? Claire glanced at RIN nervously, but the girl was (finally) paying attention to the instructor. 

Class went as usual after that. They were learning about the Epic of Omahn, which was a strange cross between a tale about a fictional hero and a religious text. Even Ibrix, which worshiped Omahn, acknowledged that no such hero ever existed. Supposedly, though, the morals and ethics embodied by Omahn so impressed the True God that They took on the name Omahn and declared his epic to be a guide all mankind should follow. Omahnity was strangely prolific. Influences could even be found within the Faith faction, though they officially worshiped the Goddess of the End. 

As class came to a close, RIN stood without a word and left the room. Claire watched her go uneasily, but it took a few seconds to put her things away. By the time she exited the classroom, RIN was nowhere to be seen. Claire wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

RIN wasn't in her next elective, nor in the core class she shared with Glenn after that. Claire sat next to him as they listened to the teacher lecture about the benefits of Graneran script over Alheran script in seals. 

Partway through class, Butcher pointed to his notebook and nudged her. Her breath caught. Her magic, already fluctuating strangely from his proximity, danced in a way she’d never felt it do before. Her gaze caught his. He looked equally entranced, eyes wide and pupils dilated. She’d never seen someone else caught in the effects of resonance before. Slowly, he shifted until his shoulder once more brushed against hers, and Claire could only shudder and lean into his warmth with a sigh.

She could sit like this forever.

After a moment that felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Butcher swallowed and shook his head slightly, dropping his gaze to the desk. He seemed unsettled, his emotions swirling even more chaotically than before, though none of it showed on his face. Despite that, he didn’t pull away. He merely tapped his notebook again. Are you alright? it read. 

Mouth dry, she nodded slowly. Should she tell him what was happening? How would he react? Most commoners considered the idea of resonance romantic, but it was more complicated for mages. Had Butcher been trained as a mage? Or did he still possess the values of a commoner?

Butcher eyed her silently, then nodded back. Without writing anything else, he closed the notebook and moved away from her. He leaned back in his chair, his entire form radiating stress. Claire knew it came from the desire to touch her again, because she was fighting the exact same desire. Resonance this strong was practically unheard of. Then again, he had enough magic to maintain multiple illusions all day long, and Claire was considered quite powerful for a Sensor, so perhaps it was a matter of the amount of magic involved?

They both sensed it at the same moment - the return of the illusion from earlier. It fell over the classroom silently and subtly, not changing anything that Claire could tell. Butcher’s gaze snapped toward the door. A rush of anger burned through him and, by extension, Claire, who’d never felt anything as intense as that fury. A moment later, his magic pulsed, and he faded from view under his own illusion. Claire hesitated. No one else appeared to have noticed anything.

Though the door appeared to remain closed, Claire felt Butcher’s magic receding past it. She forced herself to focus, trying to untangle her feelings from the resonance urging her to follow him. Everything else aside, could she let a mystery go without even trying to learn what was going on? 

No. 

Decided, Claire reached into her bag and withdrew her own form of illusion, an invisibility seal she’d designed for her detective work. She channeled a small spark of magic through it and felt the illusion wrap fully around her. She swallowed, then stood and hurried out of the room, following the feel of Butcher’s magic. 

Naturally, since Butcher was an Illusionist, she couldn’t risk coming too close while coated in an illusion seal. He would sense it just as he’d sensed RIN’s. However, not long after they’d left the classroom, both Bucher and RIN dropped their invisibility. Claire watched them from just outside the classroom. They were arguing, or at least Butcher was. RIN just looked amused. At last, Butcher turned and stormed off, RIN following behind him placidly. They seemed to be heading toward the dormitories where Butcher lived, so Claire gambled. She sprinted around the building, taking the long way to his dorm. On the way, she released her seal, using her surroundings to hide her when she arrived at the dorms instead. 

They weren’t there yet, and Claire prayed to Magic that she wasn’t making an awful mistake. But, she told herself, she was a detective, and this was the biggest mystery she’d ever come across. So she broke into the room next to Butcher’s (belonging to, incidentally, Mike Stenford, who was still in the class she’d just left) and pressed a series of seals to the wall to make it transmit sound more clearly. 

Even nervous as she was, Claire grinned in fierce exhilaration. This was the sort of thing a detective should be doing. On the other side of the wall, a door slammed. She held her breath and listened.