The next morning, the sun bled over the horizon, washing the dunes in gold. The wind carried that familiar hiss of sand shifting. For the most part, it seemed like any other morning.
Except, today, the party had new blood.
Well, not new exactly. More like... unexpected.
Two members stood among them now—Mia and Verena.
Both wore the Rose Academy uniforms, though what looked like simple fabric was in truth anything but.
Augmented artifacts, layered with protective enchantments, capable of turning aside blades and dampening impact like proper armor.
They looked almost fragile in them, Mia’s thin frames swallowed by the uniformity of the cloth. But anyone with half a brain and a decent pair of eyes would know: those weren’t just clothes.
The garments hummed faintly with quiet power.
Not that anyone cared to notice.
What drew the attention wasn’t the uniforms, nor the way the two girls stood side by side. It was the silence between them.
Mia and Verena exchanged a glance. Whatever they said to each other in that look was lost to the rest of the group but the fact they could hold an entire conversation without moving their lips? That didn’t go unnoticed.
Before anyone could prod into it, a voice, loud, shameless, and absolutely dripping with trouble shattered the quiet.
"Ahhh! Last night was the best!"
Art swaggered into view, emerging from his little shack like a man who had conquered the world. His arms stretched lazily behind his neck, his grin obnoxiously wide, and every step oozed the sort of confidence only the terminally unserious could pull off.
And then, he dropped the bomb.
"I’ve never felt that good before, Lili! Truly, you are something else. I swear."
He even had the audacity to throw in a wink, followed by a few exaggerated, flirty hand gestures in Lilith’s direction.
The effect was immediate.
Every single pair of ears perked up like hounds catching scent of blood.
Lilith herself went crimson, her posture stiffening, jaw tightening like she was seconds away from combusting.
Meanwhile, Zyon was off to the side, watching this unfold with all the visible patience of a saint who had been force-fed nails.
His hand twitched once, just once before he forcibly clenched it shut, preventing himself from smashing his own face into the sand.
Because of course it was Art. Who else?
In truth, Zyon knew what this was. Just another one of Art’s antics, another little jab meant to tease Lilith and stir the pot. The bastard lived for chaos. And yet... there was that undeniable, gnawing truth: the more this group played these games, the more tangled things became.
Middle schoolers. Every last one of them. Except wearing adult skin.
And if he was being honest, kind of entertaining.
Zyon almost laughed at himself as he turned away, deciding it wasn’t worth the headache. He’d long since learned: don’t meddle in Art’s nonsense unless you’re ready for the fallout.
Instead, he sought the peace of solitude, trudging to the crest of a nearby dune. From there, he sat and scanned the barren horizon, eyes narrowing against the harsh glare of the morning sun.
Let them devour each other with innuendo and stupidity. He’d keep watch.
Back at camp, however, things were far from peaceful.
The group’s attention had already zeroed in on Art and Lilith, and their imaginations worked faster than wildfire.
Lilith’s reddened face only fueled the storm. Her attempt at maintaining composure? Hopeless.
Celeste was the first to strike.
"Oh-ho?" Her voice was syrup-sweet, but sharp enough to cut. "Now that is the mark of a seasoned playboy. Couldn’t get Evelyn, so he moved on to Lilith? And not just moved on—already slept with her! That’s speed-run romance right there. Man deserves an achievement badge."
Freya’s nearly snapped her neck whipping her head around. "Wh–WHAT?!"
But Celeste didn’t relent. She leaned back, smirking, hands folded like a predator who’d found fresh prey.
Even Amelia, who normally floated above such antics with an easygoing calm, raised a brow.
"Hold on," she said, tone cautious, measured. "Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. Art hasn’t explicitly said they... you know. We should try acting like reasonable adults here."
She exhaled, though even she didn’t sound convinced by her own words. "Let’s keep perspective, okay?"
"Finally!" Freya cheered, grabbing Amelia’s hand with both of hers. "Someone reasonable at last. Thank you! Because honestly, Celeste just lives to jump to conclusions. It’s her hobby at this point."
"Excuse me?" Celeste straightened, indignation dripping from her voice. "That’s not very nice of you to say. For your information, I am a very sane girl. I simply find blaming Art for everything extremely fun. And if he doesn’t mind, then what’s the harm, hmm?"
Freya’s smile widened knowingly, and her eyes flicked to Celeste’s cheek.
"Oh, he minds. Trust me, he cares more than you think. Especially if we’re counting the slap you’re trying so hard to forget."
Celeste froze. Her hand, without conscious thought, drifted upward to brush the faint sting along her cheek—the spot Art had struck before.
And then realization hit.
Clicking her tongue in irritation, she yanked her hand away, furious at herself for revealing even that much. "Tch. Whatever."
She stomped forward, her irritation aimed squarely at the supposed couple.
The so-called couple in question stood out like a sore thumb.
One of them, Lilith, was beet red, her entire body stiff as though she were about to combust at any second.
The other, Art, was the picture of composure, calm as a cat that had just knocked a vase off the table and was now daring someone to scold him for it.
He lived for this shit!
"Ahm!" Celeste cleared her throat dramatically, inserting herself into the tension. The sound wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air with surgical precision.
Both Art and Lilith’s eyes flicked toward her.
Art’s grin stretched wider the moment he saw her expression. Curious eyes, sharp as a hawk, glinting with mischief. He already knew what this was about. He didn’t even need her to speak. This content belongs to novel✶fire.net
"Well, well, Celeste," Art purred, his tone infuriatingly playful. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Have you come to ask something? Or..."
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "...to demand an apology, perhaps? Though you and I both know, I’d rather die than offer one of those."
Celeste scoffed, folding her arms with all the grace of someone who had walked in just to stir the pot. "Don’t worry. I don’t expect an apology from you. If you actually gave one, it’d feel... unnatural. Creepy, even."
Art tapped his chin as though considering it, then nodded. "Fair point. I’ll spare you the horror, then."
She rolled her eyes. "Generous. Now, if you’re done with the theatrics, let me ask what I actually came here for."
She lifted a finger, not toward Art, but toward Lilith. The poor girl jolted at once, practically vibrating from head to toe under the spotlight.
"What," Celeste said slowly, savoring every word, "did you two do last night to make her this embarrassed?"
The smirk that curled across her lips was lethal. It wasn’t subtle, it wasn’t polite, and it sure as hell wasn’t innocent. Art caught it immediately. Lilith caught it too. And both knew exactly what she was implying.
Lilith’s lips parted in a desperate attempt to defend herself.
But before even a single syllable could leave her mouth, Art’s hand shot out, gently but firmly pressing against her lips to silence her. His palm covered her words, and his grin sharpened.
"Now, now," he teased, tilting his head in Celeste’s direction. "Why don’t you tell me what you think happened? I’m very interested in hearing your... interpretation." His fingers tightened just slightly as Lilith squirmed against his hand.
Celeste’s chuckle was soft but dripping with venom. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, you want my interpretation?"
She leaned forward, lowering her voice into a whisper that everyone could still hear. "Well~ I’d say it sounds like you two were having fun. Together. The kind of fun that leaves people... glowing."
Lilith’s muffled protest grew frantic under Art’s hand.
Art’s grin widened. "Mmm, is that so? Then tell me, Celeste..." His eyes gleamed with pure wickedness. "Would you like to join our fun little session next time?"
Celeste froze. Her smirk evaporated in an instant, replaced by stunned silence. She blinked once.
Twice. Then narrowed her eyes into sharp slits and glared at him like she was imagining twenty different ways to kill him on the spot.
"Let’s cut the crap," she snapped. "Did you two fuck or not?"
The effect was nuclear.
Lilith spat out the water. Her face was fire-engine red as she shouted, "WHAT THE HELL, CELESTE?! What do you mean by that?! There’s no such thing! Nothing happened between me and him!!!"
Celeste stepped back, cool as ever, and rubbed her chin as though she were some philosopher unraveling mysteries of the universe. "Huh. Then what was all that nonsense he said earlier? His words were... extremely misleading. Can’t blame me for interpreting them the way I did."
Lilith groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Seriously, this bastard..." Her voice dripped with venom as she gestured at Art. "He made me massage him. That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less. Just hours of annoying requests. ’Rub harder!’ ’A little lower!’ Gods, it was unbearable!"
Her face twisted in sheer frustration. "Ugh! Just remembering it makes me want to strangle him all over again!"
Art, of course, had the gall to hide his grin behind his hand. Or at least pretend to hide it, the smug curve of his lips was still visible through the cracks of his fingers. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Seriously? That’s all it was?"
Lilith whipped her head toward her, eyes blazing. "HEY! Don’t you dare call it a small thing! Don’t undermine my abilities jackass already did last night! I’ll have you know, I’m very good at giving massages! In my family, it’s practically tradition, muscle recovery massage is a requirement! That’s the reason I know so much about pressure points and techniques!"
Her fists clenched, her voice trembling with a mix of pride and fury. "But this guy, this absolute bastard, spent the whole time trashing my skills! He insulted my technique! He insulted me! I was already sad, don’t make me even sadder!!!"
The silence that followed was broken only by Art’s muffled snicker behind his hand.