A big difference

The afternoon stretched, bright and warm, as Lyra lingered in the fencing club. For the first time since she'd left Celestia, she felt her body buzzing with the familiar edge of adrenaline and satisfaction—not the pressure of duty, but the real, elemental joy of competition.

She sparred again with Claire, this time in a friendly round, her laughter light and easy even when she lost a point.

Other club members approached her, some with genuine curiosity, others just eager to watch the newcomer who'd bested the club captain and then lost spectacularly to the demon woman who made even defeat look like a performance.

By the time the club began packing up, Lyra had slipped from swords back into the uniform silver hair still damp from a quick rinse.

She felt almost human, an ordinary student folding into the afternoon's golden light. She took a long, measured breath, absorbing the sounds and the smells of the place—fresh resin, rubber soles, and, faintly, the memory of sweat and magic.

"I'm joining," she announced as she handed back her loaner foil, her voice firm, surprising even herself with its conviction.

Claire's eyes lit up.

"I was hoping you'd say that! You have great instincts, Lyra, and frankly, we need more people who aren't afraid of a little bruising. Training is every day from four to seven. If you have classes that overlap, just let us know. Otherwise, come as often as you can—competition season gets wild around here."

She winked. "And I'll look forward to you knocking some sense into our egos."

Lyra managed a real smile. "It'll be good for me, too. Thank you, Claire."

She grabbed her bag and stepped outside, the late sun painting the campus in soft golds and reds.

Zoe was waiting for her near the steps, arms full of flyers from every club under the sun. She looked exhilarated, wild with possibility.

"That was amazing, Lyra! Did you see how everyone was staring at you and Alayah? You guys are like… archrivals in a sports anime. Maybe enemies to lovers? Oh, and by the way, I think I have a crush."

Lyra cocked her head, bemused. "On who? Claire?"

Zoe laughed. "Claire's awesome, but no—on Alayah. I mean, did you see her? She's got the whole 'dangerous hot' thing going, and the tattoos, and she fights like a villain in a spy movie. I mean, wow."

Lyra almost choked. "Zoe, she looks like trouble."

Zoe shrugged, grinning. "You don't know if you don't try! Besides, sometimes bad girls are good for you."

Lyra snorted. "Or they're just bad. And if you end up heartbroken, don't say I didn't warn you."

They walked together for a few blocks, Zoe chatting about all the clubs she wanted to visit—video games, manga, even knitting while Lyra half-listened, lost in her own labyrinth of thoughts.

Was Alayah really stronger than her? Or was she just showy, a master of the psychological game?

Lyra replayed the match in her mind: the first easy points, the sudden shift in speed, the almost inhuman way Alayah read her moves. The defeat burned, more than she cared to admit.

She imagined them fighting for real not a fencing match, but something bigger, elemental, with fire and power and pride at stake.

Could she win? The question echoed, relentless. She didn't know. She hated not knowing.

They reached the fork in the road where the campus streets diverged—Zoe's dorm to the right, Lyra's house to the left.

"Text me if you need a dinner buddy!" Zoe called, waving as she disappeared. "And don't overthink the fencing stuff. You were amazing!"

Lyra raised a hand, forcing a smile, and turned toward her own place.

Inside, the small house was quiet, the air scented with lavender from the soaps she'd used in the shower that morning.

She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and headed straight for the bathroom. She craved water, heat, and solitude.

Her shower lasted forever, hot and stinging, steam curling around her like a cocoon. She washed away the sweat, the frustration, the bite of defeat.

When she finally stepped out, the mirror was fogged, and her hair clung to her neck in heavy waves. She felt better lighter, almost, as if the sting of Alayah's victory had dulled in the ritual of self-care.

Wrapped in a towel, she wandered into the kitchen. It was sparse—she hadn't exactly stocked up, but there were eggs, some vegetables, rice, and the instructions for a "student-friendly stir fry" tacked to the fridge.

Lyra, who had never cooked in Celestia (food appeared by magic, or was brought by servants), stared at the recipe like it was an ancient runic puzzle.

She chopped vegetables clumsily, managing to slice a carrot in half lengthwise before realizing it was supposed to be in circles.

The rice burned slightly, the eggs came out firmer than expected, but the final result looked passable.

She sat at her little table, ate slowly, and actually enjoyed it—the flavors were basic, but there was pride in every imperfect bite. She'd made something with her own hands, and it was hers alone.

As the sun vanished and dusk set in, Lyra rinsed her dishes, poured herself a glass of water, and walked into the living room, where the faint blue glow of the crystal archive pulsed on the mantle.

She approached it, heart pounding, the ritual now familiar. The archive was a magical interface—a vessel that stored the emotional crystals she harvested throughout the day.

Each type of crystal carried its own color and power, each assigned a different value:

Pure love: 700 points

Intense lust: 500 points

Infatuation: 200 points

Admiration: 150 points

Jealousy: 100 points

Envy: 80 points

Friendship: 60 points

Minor crush: 40 points

Curiosity: 20 points

She closed her eyes and let her magic flow, calling up the tally for the day. A small, translucent screen shimmered above the archive, lines of numbers tallying her haul:

Today's Harvest:

Admiration: 24 crystals × 150 = 3,600 points

Infatuation: 5 crystals × 200 = 1,000 points

Friendship: 10 crystals × 60 = 600 points

Minor crush: 12 crystals × 40 = 480 points

Curiosity: 16 crystals × 20 = 320 points

Total: 6,000 points

Not bad for a first real day. She felt a little spark of pride—until the archive, with a polite magical ding, showed her the "rival score."

Alayah:

Intense lust: 9 crystals × 500 = 4,500 points

Infatuation: 14 crystals × 200 = 2,800 points

Admiration: 17 crystals × 150 = 2,550 points

Jealousy: 8 crystals × 100 = 800 points

Envy: 10 crystals × 80 = 800 points

Minor crush: 14 crystals × 40 = 560 points

Curiosity: 11 crystals × 20 = 220 points

Total: 12,230 points

Lyra stared at the glowing numbers, jaw slack. Twelve thousand, two hundred and thirty. On day one.

She thought about Alayah her ease, her predatory smile, the way she drew desire and envy as naturally as breathing.

She'd swept through the fencing club, the math department, the gym, leaving a wake of infatuation and lust. Lyra's own numbers felt like a drop in the ocean.

"Fuck," she whispered, the word escaping before she could stop it.