Chapter 0.104: Whispers Between Glances

"You're going to miss me" 

Rena froze for a heartbeat, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her tray. Her golden eyes, once glaring, now flickered with something harder to define. The word "miss me" echoed in her chest like a stray arrow hitting a part of her she hadn't armored well enough.

She didn't respond at first. Instead, she sat across from him, the metal legs of the chair scraping softly against the floor as if trying not to interrupt the silent war between them. Her movements were precise, mechanical. As if pretending he hadn't just slipped under her skin again with a single sentence.

"You have an overinflated sense of self-importance," she muttered, picking up her fork and stabbing a piece of chicken like it had personally offended her.

"I prefer to call it confidence," Jin replied, leaning slightly forward, elbows on the table. His crimson eyes gleamed, not just with amusement, but with something deeper—something sharp and unspoken.

Rena didn't meet his gaze. She couldn't. Her heart was thudding too loudly in her ears. He was right in front of her—this ridiculous, maddening, beautiful creature—lounging like he owned the space between them, like he owned *her* thoughts.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, eyes still fixed on her food. "If I ever miss you, it'll be because the silence is too loud without your idiotic voice filling it."

"That's a poetic way to admit your life would be unbearably dull without me," jin said smoothly. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Rina finally looked up, her golden eyes narrowing. "Concerned. Deeply."

Jene grinned. "I'm touched by your aggressive affection."

"I will stab you with this fork."

He tilted his head, considering her. "Romantic and violent. My favorite combination."

A faint flush crept up her neck. She hated how easily he disarmed her with words. It wasn't just what he said—it was *how* he said it. Like every phrase had an undertone, a hidden smirk, a challenge daring her to react.

"You're impossible," she muttered.

"And you're predictable," he replied, plucking a cherry tomato from her plate without asking. "I knew you'd sit across from me. Knew you'd throw something. Knew you'd blush."

"I didn't blush."

"You're blushing now."

"I *am not—*!"

"Rena."

His voice softened, dropping low, with an intimacy that instantly made her forget what she was about to shout. Her name had never sounded so deliberate.

"…What?"

"You're beautiful when you're mad."

She blinked. Her stomach clenched like a fist. The cafeteria noise around them blurred into static. Every nerve in her body lit up, not from the compliment, but from the way he said it—gently, like a secret passed in the dark.

"I hate you," she whispered, barely audible.

"Only a little?" he teased.

"Intensely."

"Good. I was worried I'd lost my touch."

She looked at him then, really looked. His black shirt clung to him in all the ways that should've been illegal at a school. His crimson eyes watched her with a lazy, unrepentant sort of mischief. But there was something else behind the sarcasm—something she didn't want to name.

Why was he like this?

Why did he always say the one thing that could split her open?

As if sensing the shift in her thoughts, Jene leaned closer. His voice dropped again, a conspiratorial murmur:

"…Are you okay?"

Rena blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity hidden behind the sarcasm.

"I'm fine," she said, almost on reflex.

He didn't believe her.

"I didn't mean to push too far," he added. "Not… really."

Rena stared at him for a moment, studying the curve of his mouth, the rare sincerity on his face, and the way he never quite stopped smiling, even when he was being genuine.

"…You're not *always* a jerk," she admitted grudgingly.

"Don't ruin my reputation," he said, but there was warmth in his voice now.

They lapsed into a rare silence. Not tense, but… tentative. Like two people reaching across a void they weren't sure how to bridge.

And then, of course, Jene ruined it.

"So," he said casually, sipping his tea. "Are you mad because of all the attention I got today, or is it that time of the month?"

[[Heat: Sorry, sorry, I can't stand it. I have to spoil the mood. Sorry to the girls who are reading the novel.]] 

Rina choked on her drink.

"*WHAT?!*" 

He gave her a wide-eyed, mock-innocent look. "You seem extra fiery today. I was just wondering if maybe you were... in need of something. A chocolate bar? A heating pad? Perhaps… a discreet delivery of certain products?"

"You're *unbelievable!*" Rina hissed, face turning a shade of red that could ignite forests.

"I mean, I could conjure you a magical moon-pad if you need one," he offered with a wink. "Mana-infused for ultimate comfort."

"I will *kill* you."

"In front of all these students?" he said, gesturing around. "You'll ruin your perfect record."

"Worth it."

Her voice shook—not with fury, but with how *hard* she was trying not to laugh.

He saw it. That tiny, traitorous twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I knew it," he said, smug.

"Knew *what?*"

"You love me."

She glared. "I love *stabbing you.*"

"Same difference."