He was new. That much was obvious. Fresh-faced, soft hair falling into his eyes, walking like he had no idea what kind of place he'd stepped into.

And yet...

Airn couldn't look away.

He had expected fear. Panic. A flinch. Anything that would make him feel the thrill of control, of dominance. But this boy... didn't. Not even a twitch. Just calm. Quiet. And somehow... daring.

Airn's fingers itched to test him. To push him, see how much of that composure was real.

"You think this is funny?" Alastor's voice broke the thought. Airn glanced at his brother. The corner of his lips twitched, almost a smirk. "No. I think it's... interesting. Worth my time."

Airn had to admit it. He liked challenges. But there was something more here — something he couldn't name yet. Something in those green eyes that made him want... more.

He remembered the way Nevan had picked up that wet notebook earlier, as if it were nothing. Most people would have yelped, snapped, cried. But him? Nothing. Just that faint, polite smile. And those eyes. Those eyes that could be soft, warm, inviting... but just as easily empty and cold.

Airn shook his head. Dangerous. That was the word. Dangerous.

He turned his attention back to the hall below, watching the boy move with a quiet grace, not noticing the whispers, the stares, the fear. Everyone else kept their distance. Nevan didn't care. And that... that was irresistible.

"Do you really think he'll last?" Alastor asked, voice low, thoughtful.

Airn's smirk widened. "I don't know. But I'm going to enjoy finding out."

He didn't realize he was already thinking ahead — imagining ways to keep the boy on edge, ways to pull him closer, ways to see what lay beneath that calm exterior.

Airn had always liked control. Always liked chaos. Always liked fear.

But now there was a new element in the game. Something... fragile, something quiet, something he wanted.

Something that didn't belong to him — not yet.

Airn waited until the hall had thinned, just enough to corner him without a crowd watching. He leaned casually against a locker, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

"Little saint," he called, voice low and teasing. "You walk through here like you own the place. What makes you think you belong?"

Nevan looked up, green eyes soft and calm. He tilted his head slightly, studying Airn for a moment — and in that brief second, there was nothing. No fear, no irritation, no reaction at all. Just... calm.

Airn's smirk faltered for the tiniest fraction of a second. That was not supposed to happen. People normally flinch. People normally beg. People normally fight back.

But this boy? Nothing.

"Are you going to answer me?" Airn prodded, stepping a little closer.

Nevan's lips curved into the faintest smile. "I don't see the point," he said softly. His voice was like a quiet melody, almost soothing — except it carried a weight, a subtle edge that made Airn's chest tighten.

Airn blinked. The calmness was... wrong. Unfair. It made him feel off-balance.

"Wrong answer," he muttered, letting his hand drift toward Nevan's shoulder. Not to hurt — not yet — just to see if he would flinch.

Nevan didn't. Not an inch. He simply shifted slightly, collected, like a cat assessing a threat but confident it could escape any moment.

Airn's heart thumped faster than he wanted to admit. Fascination mixed with irritation — a dangerous cocktail. He had never wanted to see someone break and yet... he wanted to see this boy move, react, feel.

Alastor's voice, low and calm beside him, broke through. "Interesting," he murmured. "You expected him to run?"

Airn shook his head, eyes glued to Nevan. "I didn't expect this," he said honestly, more to himself than his brother. "I... like it."

That word hit him harder than he expected. Like a chord struck in a quiet room, vibrating through him. Airn leaned back slightly, pretending to look disinterested, but every muscle in his body was taut.

Nevan's green eyes flicked to the floor, then back up at him, still calm, still unreadable. And for the first time, Airn felt the thrill of a challenge that might never be finished — a game where the rules didn't belong to him, not entirely.

He smiled again, sharper this time, hiding the pull in his chest. "We're going to have a lot of fun, little saint," he said, low and almost dangerous.

And in that moment, he knew — this was no ordinary first-year.

Airn's steps echoed down the empty hall as he walked toward the classroom. Every footfall a measured rhythm, deliberate, like a predator marking its territory.

He stepped inside, and the usual classroom chaos froze. Other students avoided his gaze as if looking at him directly might burn them. Even the teacher's eyes flickered away.

Airn settled into his desk, catching himself staring absentmindedly out the window. A small bird perched on a branch, singing, completely unaware of the world around it.

"Tch," he muttered under his breath, voice low, almost amused. "The school's got a new prey."

His gaze shifted to the other side of the room, meeting his brother's cold hazel eyes. In that brief moment, Airn knew Alastor was thinking the same thing — the same dangerous curiosity, the same silent thrill.

By the time the bell rang for the break, the halls were filling again with chatter and shuffling feet. But the brothers moved with purpose, weaving through the crowd like shadows.

They were looking for the new boy.

They didn't need a reason — only to see him, to make him react. To test him. To see if the calm, soft first-year could really withstand the storm that was the Blackwood twins.

And somewhere beneath the edge of amusement, a darker curiosity thrummed. One that neither Airn nor Alastor could ignore.

Airn was the first to notice Nevan bump against his brother's shoulder as he walked past. A small, polite gesture — but it drew both of their eyes immediately.

Alastor's hand shot out, grabbing Nevan by the upper arm and pulling him into the side of a locker. The metal door rattled with the impact, and Nevan's body pressed lightly against it.

Airn stepped forward, closing the space behind him, effectively cornering the boy.

Other students hurried past, forming a loose circle around the scene, their whispers low and fearful.

"Look at that," Alastor said, his voice calm, chilling, almost casual. "The school's new prey. Where do you hide your money, hmm?"

Airn's chest tightened, part frustration, part fascination. God, he's calm, he thought. While Alastor's words sliced through the hall like ice, Nevan didn't flinch. He didn't even raise his eyes, hands clasped in front of him, small and still.

Airn smirked, stepping closer, letting his presence dominate the space. "Maybe if you give us some," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "we'll let you go." He leaned in, close enough that Nevan could feel the heat of him, the sharp tang of control pressing in.

Still... nothing.

Nevan's gaze stayed down at his hands, serene, unshaken.

Airn's fingers twitched. Impatiently, he reached up, gripping the soft auburn hair at the base of Nevan's skull, tilting his head up so that their eyes met. "What? Cat got your tongue now? Give us your money."

A low laugh, smooth and dark, rolled from behind him. Alastor, leaning casually against a locker, watched with a faint smile. "Oh... he's kind of cute like that, isn't he, brother?"

Airn's jaw tightened at the word cute, though he couldn't deny the thrill that prickled down his spine. Interesting, he thought, this little saint is... dangerous in his own way.

Nevan's eyes met his — calm, unafraid, empty, and almost mocking in their serenity. And in that second, Airn realized: nothing they had done had made him flinch. Nothing.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across Airn's face. This is going to be fu

Airn's fingers still gripped Nevan's hair, tilting his head up. The boy's green eyes met his hazel ones — soft, calm... yet deeper than any calm Airn had ever seen. There was a stillness there that made Airn's stomach tighten.

"You're... really not scared, are you?" Airn muttered, almost to himself.

Nevan's lips curved slightly, polite, serene... but the way his gaze locked onto Airn's sent a shiver down the older boy's spine. It wasn't fear, or submission, or confusion. It was something else. A quiet, unyielding weight, like a shadow pressing against the light.

Alastor stepped closer, voice low, almost amused. "I like him," he whispered. "He doesn't act like anyone else."

Airn's smirk faltered. Why is this bothering me so much? he thought, irritation and fascination twisting together.

Nevan finally spoke, his voice soft but firm, the tone calm, almost teasing in its serenity. "You want my money?" He tilted his head, meeting Airn's eyes fully. "Take it if you must. But I wonder... will that make you feel powerful, or just... empty?"

Airn blinked. His grip on Nevan's hair loosened, just slightly. His heart thumped in a way that had nothing to do with fear — and everything to do with a strange, sharp thrill.

Alastor chuckled behind him, low and dark. "Did he just... mock you?" he asked, smiling faintly. "Or is it just his calm?"

Airn didn't answer. He didn't need to. The truth was buried somewhere deep in his chest: this quiet, soft boy, seemingly fragile... had already unsettled him. Already challenged him. And Airn hated that feeling, even as it made his pulse race.

He let go completely, stepping back a fraction, letting the distance hang between them like a taut string. "Interesting," he murmured, voice low, dangerous. "Very interesting, little saint."

Nevan's calm smile never faltered. And in that silent, unyielding moment, Airn realized: this game... just became more fun than I expected.