Chapter 8: Cat Hair, Conspiracies, and Cupids in Disguise

Selene's POV

The university library is supposed to be quiet. Peaceful. Reverent.

Instead, it currently smells like espresso, cat fur, and very expensive cologne.

"Blizzard," I sighed, adjusting my glasses as I sipped tea from a mug shaped like a skull. "You're not allowed to bring your hover-scooter into the Philosophy aisle."

Blizzard Du Feng, billionaire founder of Pentagon University and part-time chaos gremlin, rolled past me anyway. He was wearing a tailored gold suit and matching socks that said "I ship it" in cursive font.

He parked his scooter beside the ancient anatomy textbooks and flopped dramatically into the armchair across from me. "Selene," he said, folding his hands like a Bond villain, "we have a situation."

I raised an eyebrow. Mittens, my cat, who lives rent-free in the library's west wing, leapt onto my lap and meowed judgmentally.

"Go on."

"It's Spawn and Lin Chui," Blizzard whispered, as if he were leaking state secrets. "They're into each other. Blindly. Stupidly. Romantically."

"I know," I said, stroking Mittens' head. "Everyone knows."

"Everyone?"

"Except them."

We both sipped our drinks in synchronized exasperation.

Blizzard leaned forward. "Do we intervene?"

I paused. On one hand, meddling in romantic affairs is unethical and probably against at least seventeen university policies. On the other hand...

"They're idiots," I said softly.

"Such glorious idiots," he agreed.

Mittens meowed. A third vote.

We were in.

Operation: Make Those Two Realize They're in Love was officially greenlit.

Blizzard pulled out a holographic tablet, showing an incredibly complex mind map labeled "Crush Web 3000." At the center was Lin Chui. A dozen red lines connected her to various keywords like "basketball," "Spawn's hoodie," and "accidental hand-touch."

"How do you even—"

"I have drones," he said. "Also, I read her diary. Digitally. Don't ask."

"Unhinged," I muttered, "but effective."

I closed my med journal and stood up, adjusting my lab coat. "Here's the plan. You invite Spawn to your weird tech mansion under the pretense of 'career mentorship.' I'll ask Lin Chui to help me organize old biology books in the same building. Boom. Candlelight. Accidental karaoke. Something with snacks."

"And mood lighting!" Blizzard added.

"And maybe aphrodisiac tea—"

"Selene!"

"—just jasmine. Chill."

We high-fived, then parted ways like two shadowy matchmakers ready to stir the pot.

Because at Pentagon University, no one is safe from shipping wars.

Especially not when the librarian has a cat, a PhD, and a grudge against unspoken feelings.