Chapter 1 : Black Orbs

Ren Xiao occupied a seat at the back of the lecture hall, a spot he frequently chose to conceal himself in, far from inquisitive gazes. His fingers tapped idly on the desk, a soft cadence that synchronized with the ambient noise of the classroom. He didn't need to be completely attentive to the lecture—his mind was elsewhere, wandering like mist from an extinguished fire, far removed from the tedious subject being discussed.

The delicate aroma of ink and paper blended with the morning chill that oozed through the fractured windows. The chatter of his fellow students buzzed around him, filling the environment with vitality, but it didn't reach him. He had grown accustomed to it by now—this unending drone, the sounds enveloping him without ever genuinely affecting him.

Ren's pale white hair flowed over his shoulders, its brightness a stark contrast to the cozy, earthy hues of the classroom. His striking blue eyes, often the topic of hushed remarks behind his back, seldom sought out the others. He favored the anonymity of his back-row position, the seclusion that accompanied being unnoticed. It was a refuge where he could escape, where his thoughts could meander without the burden of expectation.

Today, similar to most days, Ren didn't even make an effort to pretend to pay attention to the professor's discourse. Instead, his pencil glided across the page, sketching lines that created shapes, images, and figures. His sketchbook was his sanctuary, the sole space where he could genuinely convey himself without the necessity of words.

However, today, his mind felt oddly unsettled. It wasn't the dullness of the class that triggered the disturbance—it was something different, something he couldn't precisely identify. As he added contours to the wing of a bird in mid-flight, his mind drifted to a peculiar question that had persisted for a while: Do the academically gifted students at the front of the class, the ones who always know the answers and raise their hands, ever contemplate their place in the world?

Ren pondered whether they ever felt like outsiders, as if they didn't fit in, even in the most familiar environments. He recognized that they appeared self-assured, but confidence was simple to simulate. Ren had realized that long ago.

The subtle alteration in the atmosphere initially went unnoticed. The soft murmur of student voices, the shuffling of papers, all subsided into an uneasy quiet. It was akin to a sudden hush, a heaviness in the air that Ren couldn't discharge. He felt it, deep within his chest, like a profound pressure constricting his lungs. It was an unnatural lull, as though the world were pausing to exhale.

Ren blinked, his pencil halted mid-line, and raised his gaze from his sketchbook.

The room remained populated with students, yet the atmosphere had shifted. The lively chatter had diminished to a soft murmur, and every gaze was directed at something—or rather, someone—by the door.

Ren's eyes followed the direction of their focus, instinctively attracted to the figure who had just arrived.

The man moved without making a sound, his presence slicing through the room like a knife. Ren couldn't comprehend why his heart raced, why his chest constricted in reaction. The man's black shoes tapped quietly against the ground, his movements intentional and measured. With each step, he seemed to attract attention, drawing the room's energy toward himself.

There was something almost disconcerting about him. His sharp features and the sleek black suit that hugged his tall form conveyed a quiet authority, suggesting someone who commanded respect without needing to utter a word. His stance, upright and assured, indicated clearly that he was not a man accustomed to being unnoticed.

Ren's gaze trailed after him as he crossed the room, sensing an inexplicable attraction, something profound within him responding to the man's presence. His dark eyes swept across the students, examining the room with the cold accuracy of a hunter, until they settled on Ren.

Ren's breath hitched in his throat.

It wasn't a passing glance—it was a stare that latched onto him, one that cut through the air and made Ren feel as though he was being observed in a way that no one had ever looked at him before. It wasn't the typical fleeting look that came from strangers; it felt like something deeper. His heart raced, and a chill crept up his spine.

The man's eyes were deep, dark—endlessly so, resembling an abyss that threatened to engulf him entirely. Yet, there was something alluring about it, something that caused Ren's body to freeze, unable to divert his gaze. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the rest of the world had faded away. There existed only the man and the strange tension that lingered in the space between them.

And then, as swiftly as it had begun, the man broke the stare. He turned away, his motions smooth, elegant—like a predator who had targeted its prey, only to pivot and abandon it. Ren could feel the weight of his gaze remaining, as if they were still on him even as the man proceeded to the front of the room.

The air once more felt dense, infused with an energy that Ren couldn't articulate. He could still sense the reverberations of that gaze, echoing through his body like a distant rumble of thunder. It was a sensation that wouldn't quite settle, that buzzed in his veins and left him feeling uneasy.

The professor—Luo Xuan, as Ren would come to know—took his place behind the podium with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to being heard. His eyes scanned the room once more, momentarily pausing on Ren before continuing. It wasn't as piercing this time, yet it still sent an odd shiver down Ren's spine. That same sensation of being scrutinized, as if Luo Xuan could perceive everything about him with just a fleeting glance.

"Let's start with the fundamentals of Art History," Luo Xuan's voice echoed, smooth and measured, breaking through the low murmur of the room. "We will begin with the classical periods of Greco-Roman art. "

Ren attempted to concentrate, to set aside the distracting thoughts whirling in his mind, but the allure of Luo Xuan's presence was too overpowering to disregard. It wasn't solely the man's demeanor or his voice—it was something more profound, something Ren couldn't articulate. He had a certain intensity, an energy that seemed to envelop the room and entwine with Ren like an invisible thread.

Ren's fingers tightened around his pencil, almost excessively. He could still detect the faint aroma that appeared to follow the professor—a sharp, musky undertone that lingered in the atmosphere, one that Ren's body appeared to react to involuntarily. It was peculiar, even disconcerting, but not unpleasant. It was akin to an unspoken directive, tugging at him in a manner he couldn't comprehend.

The lecture continued, but Ren found it hard to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the man at the front of the room—the way he had regarded him, the peculiar tension that had saturated the air between them. It was as if something had altered, something had transformed the instant their eyes had met. Ren's heartbeat quickened at the notion, and the warmth in his chest began to rise again, a feeling that was both new and known simultaneously.

Was this the sensation of being attracted to someone? To feel as though the universe itself had shifted, as if he had been drawn into a gravitational field around this one individual, this man who appeared to possess authority over him with nothing beyond his mere presence?

Ren's eyes shifted back to Luo Xuan, who was now addressing the class, his voice calm and steady. Ren couldn't dispel the impression that Luo Xuan had already recognized him. That their fleeting interaction, their silent connection, had signified something—something he couldn't grasp.

But one thing was certain. He would never be able to erase those dark eyes from his memory.