Chapter: 0.137: A Quiet Interlude in the Café

Jin exited the academy's grand halls, still deep in thought. A quiet question trailed him: which club should he join? The afternoon sun slanted across the marble courtyard, where students milled—some trailing after him with shy admiration, others stepping aside with a flash of disdain. Their reactions didn't touch him. Hands buried in the pockets of his leather coat, he walked slowly.

Ahead, the academy's private marketplace came into view: narrow rows of small shops beneath vaulted ceilings of stained glass. Jin passed boutiques of enchanted garments and stalls of alchemical trinkets, but his gaze was set on a quiet bookstore bathed in golden lamplight. He slipped inside without hesitation, drawn by the rich musk of old paper and leather.

Narrow aisles invited exploration. Shelves overflowed with ancient spell tomes and modern treatises on weapon styles. Jin's slender fingers paused over spines titled *Sword Arts*, *Theater of Shadows*, before landing on *Philosophy*. The weight of the book spoke to him—words woven into meaning, a mirror to his own introspection. He pulled it gently, then reached for more: *Philosophy of Mankind*, *The Heavens and Us*, and *A Step Begins with a Step*. Four volumes, each a different pathway into human understanding and cosmic truth.

The bookstore keeper—a hunched old man—observed silently from behind a woodgrain counter scarred with years. When Jin laid the books down, the bookseller adjusted his glasses. "Heavy subjects," he murmured, voice soft yet vivid. "Rare for someone your age…most youths avoid such heft."

Jin allowed a small, knowing smile. "I prefer strange perspectives," he said quietly. "To understand how others see life and this world." He met the old man's eyes. "That's worth more than idle distraction."

A genuine grin lit the keeper's face. "Well said. These are good choices." He wrapped the books and named a total: four hundred dollars. Then—with a twinkle—he said, "But you've picked quite the set. Fifty percent off. Two hundred dollars."

Jin nodded, reaching for his sleek black card. The clerk shook his head diplomatically. "Can't take these machines. Cash only."

Jin paused—then produced crisp bills totaling **one thousand dollars**. He slid them across. "Keep the rest," he said coolly, turning. "No need for change."

"Sir—" the bookseller protested, voice thin.

Jin's eyes never flickered. "It's yours to keep." Then he left.

The bookstore's door shut behind him, and he headed toward the nearest café tucked in the arcade's corner. Glimmers of curiosity followed his midnight-clad figure: black coat, boots reaching his knees, gloves with fingerless tips revealing pale hands. Students paused mid-laugh or whisper, their eyes drawn to his dark magnetism. Whispers fluttered—"dark prince," "leather demon," "so handsome, yet unapproachable."

He ignored them. Moving toward a secluded corner table, he unrolled his thoughts. A barista—a young woman with trembling cheeks—met his gaze, flushed and uncertain. She placed a trembling menu before him. "Pl-please, sir…what would you like?" Her voice trembled, betraying her calm countenance.

Jin met her eyes with polite detachment. "Coffee," he said simply.

The girl nodded, retreating swiftly, while watching him with wide, curious eyes. Jin removed *Philosophy* from his satchel and began reading under the muted café lights.

Minutes passed. The girl returned with a cup of dark brew, its aroma earthy and rich. She placed it before him gently, her gaze lingering. Around the café, other patrons—mostly academy students—stood, glancing and murmuring, some furtively snapping snapshots. One student snapped a photo and posted it online with the caption: **"Dark Prince of the Academy"**—the image already trending live on the student social feed.

Jin noticed the flicker of camera lights and cracked phones, but saw them as meaningless. They intruded only on the curiosity of others, not on him. He sipped his coffee, savoring the bitterness, and let the thoughts in the book guide him.

Inside, the café smelled of roasted beans, warmed leather, and old wood. He turned a page, letting the book's printed wisdom fill him: arguments on moral ambiguity, on human destiny, on the silence of the cosmos. People's voices blurred in the background. He welcomed the quiet.

In the next moments, the barista hovered nearby—timid but resolute. Finally she dared to speak. "Excuse me, sir…are—are you really Prince Jin?" Her voice shook.

Jin didn't look up. "Yes." His tone polite, but distant.

She swallowed, nerves making her voice small. "Is…is that why you dress always in black? To show—status?"

He closed the book slowly, eyes still on the page. "No." A short pause. "I dress how I want. My family name matters little to me." He paused again, then looked directly at her. "Now, leave me to my reading."

Flushed, she turned away, bumping into a classmate. The bell rang in the distance, echoing through the arcade. Students stirred, finishing drinks and gathering their things.

Jin closed his book, placed the coffee aside, and rose. With quiet deliberation, he left the café, leaving behind the soft murmur of academic life.

Outside, the air smelled of distant gardens and cooling stone. New whispers trailed him—*there he goes*, *so mysterious*. Some offered hopeful glances.

But he no longer cared—for clubs, for appearances. His books were tucked beneath his arm. Philosophy and questions of the cosmos were friendlier companions than chatter and empty praise.

He strode onward, intentions unknown even to himself. And the Academy's afternoon sun deepened to twilight—wrapping everything in dusk's hush.

..... 

Heat: Well I wrote this chapter to show that when Jin is alone he only acts coldly with Rena, Sion, Amelia and his mother Naoko he acts cheerful and he is also indifferent towards Leona and the rest but he acts nicely with them only for the sake of his wife Rena so that he does not make her ashamed that he is her husband 

https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/mobile/folders/1Tpo0sWCa3Y3y9Uip1cjU0GRQByxT5IhK