Chapter 29: Chapter 29: A Familiar Stranger

The following day, Lumine found herself clutching the blazer Scaramouche had lent her. She had folded it neatly, her mind replaying the odd but kind gesture from the boy she didn’t know well.

It was lunchtime, and the courtyard was bustling with students. Lumine glanced around, hoping to spot him. Though they had exchanged only a few words, there was something about him that felt strangely familiar.

“There he is,” Albedo said, pointing toward a quiet corner where Scaramouche leaned against a tree, engrossed in a book.

“Thanks,” Lumine said, giving her friends a quick wave before making her way over.

---

Scaramouche noticed her approach before she said a word. He closed his book, tilting his head in mock surprise as Lumine stopped a few feet away.

“You,” he said simply.

“Um, hi,” Lumine started awkwardly. “I just wanted to return your blazer. Thanks for lending it to me yesterday.” She extended the neatly folded jacket toward him.

Scaramouche’s indigo eyes flicked to the blazer, then back to her. “You didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“I wanted to,” she insisted, smiling softly. “It really helped, so... thank you.”

He hesitated for a moment before taking the blazer from her hands. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

---

Lumine studied him curiously. Up close, there was something captivating about him—the sharp angles of his face, the way his eyes seemed to hold an endless depth. Yet, there was also a faint sense of déjà vu that she couldn’t shake.

“Do we... know each other?” she asked suddenly.

Scaramouche stiffened, his fingers tightening around the blazer. “What makes you say that?”

“You just feel... familiar,” Lumine admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Like I’ve met you before.”

Scaramouche’s mind raced. She doesn’t recognize me. Of course, she wouldn’t—why would she connect me to that stray cat she picked up?

“That’s unlikely,” he replied smoothly, a small smirk playing at his lips. “I’m not exactly the kind of person people remember.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lumine said with a laugh. “You seem like someone who leaves an impression.”

Her words caught him off guard, and for a brief moment, his smirk faltered. “You’re... odd,” he muttered, looking away.

“Odd?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, regaining his composure. “Most people don’t bother thanking me. They just take what they need and move on.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” Lumine said firmly, her smile unwavering. “And I think kindness deserves to be acknowledged.”

---

Before he could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“I should go,” Lumine said, backing away. “Thanks again, uh...” She paused, realizing she didn’t know his name.

“Scaramouche,” he supplied, his voice low but steady.

“Scaramouche,” she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue like a secret. “See you around.”

As she turned and walked away, Scaramouche watched her retreating figure, his blazer still clutched in his hands. A strange warmth bloomed in his chest—a mix of fondness and frustration.

“She’s too good for this world,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “And too curious for her own good.”

He turned to leave, but the faintest smile lingered on his lips as he made his way back to class.