Pompous Princess

We returned to Mythos Academy with barely a day to spare before classes resumed, stepping off the warp platform just as the artificial daylight adjusted to the Academy's schedule. The moment my boots hit the ground, I could feel it—the weight of expectation. Mythos wasn't just a school. It was a proving ground, a relentless machine designed to forge the best of the best. And after fall break? The competition would only intensify.

I had spent the last week growing stronger. Now, I had to prove it.

Two major events loomed ahead—the next practical evaluation, another test of real-world application, and then, at the end of the semester, midterms. The first official rank adjustment.

That was the goal.

I clenched my fist, feeling the steady hum of mana coursing through me. Rank 2. That was the target. I had climbed to the top during Island Survival, then dominated the inter-year war with my strategy. But that wasn't enough. Lucifer Windward was still ahead of me, and I needed to close the gap.

Rachel stretched beside me, rolling her shoulders with an easy smile. "Back to reality."

"Didn't feel real where we just were?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

She smirked. "Oh, it was real. Just a lot more fun."

The hyperloop station for first-year students was always buzzing with activity, connecting all four dorms—Ophelia, Ignis, Tempest, and Aegis—to the rest of the Academy. Students disembarked in groups, carrying bags filled with supplies, weapons, and the occasional rare item they'd managed to obtain over break. The energy was different now. No one was a newcomer anymore. Everyone had seen what Mythos demanded.

Rachel and I boarded one of the sleek, waiting hyperloop pods that would take us straight to Ophelia Dorms. The smooth hum of acceleration carried us forward, the high-speed transport system weaving through Mythos Academy's massive infrastructure with precision.

Rachel leaned back in her seat. "You're going to be busy catching up with everyone tomorrow."

"You too," I pointed out.

She waved a hand lazily. "People expect things from me already. You, though? You came back different. That'll make things... interesting."

I exhaled. She wasn't wrong.

The hyperloop chimed as it slowed, pulling into the station just outside Ophelia Dorms. The towering residential structures stood tall against the artificial skyline, their windows gleaming with soft neon accents. Automated security drones hovered along the pathways, scanning students as they exited, ensuring every arrival was accounted for.

Rachel and I walked together toward the entrance before naturally splitting off. She turned to me, tilting her head slightly. "Get some rest. You still look half-dead from the last fight."

I rolled my eyes. "Good night, Rachel."

She grinned, swiping her ID at the entrance to her dorm wing. "Night, Arthur."

With that, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving me to my own devices. I stepped into my dorm wing, the familiar security scan washing over me in waves of blue light.

Finally, peace.

I shut my door behind me, already thinking about a shower and then maybe collapsing onto my bed—

A knock.

I froze. Only a handful of people would bother visiting unannounced. Rachel wouldn't. Cecilia?

I sighed. Of course.

"Arthur Nightingale," came the voice from the other side, smooth and sweet with a barely concealed edge. "You owe me an explanation."

I pinched the bridge of my nose before opening the door.

And there she was.

Cecilia Slatemark.

Golden hair perfectly styled, crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and mild offense, posture just relaxed enough to look effortless while still radiating control.

And, of course, she stepped inside before I could even process it.

"Come in, Cecilia," I said dryly, watching as she gracefully made herself at home, leaning against my desk like she was about to cross-examine me.

She folded her arms. "You never came."

I blinked. "What?"

"You never came to the Imperial Palace," she repeated, her tone light but unmistakably sharp. "During fall break."

Oh. That.

I had, in fact, entirely ignored her invitation.

"I was busy," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

Cecilia narrowed her eyes. "Busy?"

"Training," I replied smoothly. "Expedition to the Kobold Sea. You know, the one I told you about."

"Ah, yes." She nodded slowly, not buying it at all. "The oh-so-dangerous expedition where you just happened to awaken your Gift and also reach high Silver-rank. A truly unexpected series of events, wouldn't you say?"

Her stare bore into me, unrelenting. I refused to give her the satisfaction of looking guilty.

She sighed dramatically, pushing off my desk. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Do you know how much effort it took for me to convince my father that you were worthy of an invitation? Do you?"

I crossed my arms. "I don't suppose apologizing will help."

She laughed. "Oh, no, darling, we're far past apologies." Her gaze flickered over me, assessing, calculating. "But I suppose I can forgive you... if you make it up to me."

I raised an eyebrow. "How exactly do you want me to do that?"

Her smile widened. "You'll see."

I exhaled, already weary of whatever game she was playing. "Cecilia," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "are you doing this just to entertain yourself?"

She tilted her head, golden locks cascading over her shoulder in effortless perfection. "Perhaps."

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Don't." My voice carried more weight than I expected. "I'm not some toy for you to play with."

Her gaze sharpened. "Toy?"

Before I could react, she was suddenly too close, crimson eyes locked onto mine with unnerving intensity. One hand reached up, fingers grasping my jaw, tilting my face as if she were inspecting something rare, something undeniably hers.

"You're not a toy, Arthur," she said, voice quieter now, almost... serious.

The air between us crackled with something I couldn't quite name.

"I suppose I should tell you," she continued, her grip not loosening. "I love breaking people. Watching them shatter into something more... manageable. At first, I thought I'd do the same to you."

She leaned in, her breath warm against my lips.

"And then I realized," she whispered, her voice slipping into something lower, something dangerous, "you're already broken, aren't you?"

I couldn't move. The words lodged themselves deep in my chest, wrapping around something I didn't want to acknowledge.

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

And then she kissed me.

Not tentative, not slow—possessive.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me in as if daring me to pull away. She kissed like she fought, with complete control, pressing forward until the only thing I could register was the warmth of her mouth, the taste of something sweet and intoxicating, the way she pushed—pushed until I wasn't sure if she wanted to consume me or just see how far I would let her go.

Her tongue traced the edge of my lower lip before retreating, leaving a lingering heat in its wake.

She pulled back, just enough to meet my gaze again, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, the faintest hint of red dusting porcelain skin. "Finally," she murmured, tilting my chin up just slightly, her fingers still resting against my jaw, "I get to see you lose control."

I said nothing. Could say nothing.

Cecilia stepped back, giving me one last lingering look before turning on her heel. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and she disappeared into the hallway, leaving nothing behind but the scent of her perfume and the phantom press of her lips against mine.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing.

Then, almost unconsciously, I raised my fingers to my lips.

Soft.