Chapter 9

Adrelo sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. His fingers idly traced the edges of the mysterious letter he’d tucked away earlier, though his mind was far from the cryptic message.

“Xaviel Alistair Raventhorn,” he muttered under his breath, his silvery eyes narrowing.

He couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in his chest since Xaviel’s arrival earlier that day. The son of Duke Raventhorn, an icon of perfection and power, was no stranger to Adrelo—not because of personal encounters, but because of the vivid memories from the novel he’d found himself trapped in.

Xaviel’s arrival marked the beginning of the story’s events. The main plot has started, Adrelo thought grimly. And where there’s Xaviel, the female lead can’t be far behind.

His mind raced through the events of the book, particularly the original Adrelo’s disastrous interactions with the main leads. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be walking straight into the same doom that had awaited the original owner of this body.

Adrelo leaned back, exhaling sharply. If the story follows the novel… His expression darkened as he recalled the key moments that had cemented Xaviel’s hatred for the original Adrelo.

––––

It was a scene from the early chapters of the book. The original Adrelo, arrogant and desperate to prove his worth, had become infatuated with the female lead. But instead of admiration, it manifested as a series of increasingly obnoxious attempts to win her attention—unwanted advances, public embarrassments, and unrelenting harassment.

Xaviel, calm and composed as ever, had confronted Adrelo one evening in the academy’s courtyard.

“I’m going to say this once,” Xaviel’s voice had been icy, laced with restrained fury. His obsidian eyes, sharp and unyielding, bored into Adrelo’s like a blade to the throat.

“Stay away from her.”

The original Adrelo, though shaking under Xaviel’s gaze, had tried to laugh it off, muttering something about not taking orders from an overprivileged duke’s son.

But Xaviel wasn’t finished.

“You think I’m joking?” he had said, stepping closer until the air seemed to freeze around them. The faintest breeze picked up, swirling ominously.

“Try it again, and you’ll see just how fragile your pathetic life is. I don’t need to lift a finger to ruin you.”

Adrelo shuddered at the memory, though it wasn’t his own. It was an eerie, visceral feeling, as though the warning had been directed at him personally. He remembered how, in the book, Xaviel had followed through on his threat.

There was that one infamous event—the gala in the novel’s third act. The original Adrelo had cornered the female lead yet again, spouting nonsense about how she should choose him over Xaviel.

That was the first time Xaviel’s power had truly manifested against a person.

Adrelo swallowed hard, his throat dry. The vivid description from the novel came rushing back: Xaviel, calm yet terrifying, had simply clenched his fist, and the air around Adrelo’s neck had vanished. The original Adrelo had clawed at his throat, gasping and choking, but Xaviel hadn’t relented until the female lead begged him to stop.

Even after surviving that ordeal, the original Adrelo hadn’t learned his lesson. He’d tried scheming against Xaviel, spreading rumors and attempting sabotage, but each plan had ended in failure and humiliation.

Snapping back to the present, Adrelo buried his face in his hands.

“What kind of psycho chokes a guy just because of a girl?” he muttered.

“And the female lead? What’s so special about her anyway? She’s just another love interest in a predictable plotline!”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“Still… I can’t afford to end up like that idiot. Getting on Xaviel’s bad side is practically signing my own death warrant.”

The weight of his situation pressed down on him. He wasn’t just avoiding trouble for the sake of survival—he was rewriting fate.

Adrelo scowled at nothing in particular.

“Damn male leads and their over-the-top obsessions. Just because she’s the one doesn’t mean you get to lose your minds over her!”

Despite his frustration, fear still lingered in his chest. He knew better than to underestimate someone like Xaviel Alistair Raventhorn.

Stay out of his way, Adrelo reminded himself firmly. Stay out of her way. Stay out of everyone’s way.

His resolution set, Adrelo lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “Just survive,” he whispered to himself.

“That’s all I have to do.”

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Not in this world.

****

For the seventh morning since his arrival at Mystevorne Academy, Adrelo Le Ven Dierre found himself kneeling beside his bed, hands clasped tightly together, his head bowed low.

“Please,” he muttered under his breath.

“Just one more day without running into any of them. No male leads, no supporting characters, and definitely no female lead. I promise I’ll keep my head down and stay invisible. Just let me get through today, please.”

His whispered words dissolved into something incomprehensible, a mix of genuine desperation and nonsensical muttering. His silver eyes clenched shut, he focused every ounce of his willpower into his prayer, as though sheer force of determination could alter the fate written in the novel.

Adrelo had no gods to pray to, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

In his mind, the faces of the male leads and the key supporting characters flashed vividly. Xaviel Alistair Raventhorn, with his unnerving calm and his tempestuous aerokinesis, topped the list of people he needed to avoid. Then there were the other male leads—an arrogant prince, a genius alchemist, and a brooding knight, each of them more infuriating than the last.

And, of course, the female lead, whose magnetism seemed to draw every character—including the original Adrelo—into the swirling chaos of the plot.

“Just stay away from me,” he muttered again.

His one solace was that neither Milo nor Gareth seemed to be connected to the main plot. Milo was an average student, uninterested in the grand machinations of the academy’s elite. And Gareth–– though possibly a minor supporting character, hadn’t shown any signs of importance yet.

Still, better safe than sorry.

Adrelo’s concentration deepened, his words growing softer yet more impassioned.

The door to Milo’s room creaked open.

Milo stepped out, yawning and stretching, his hair sticking up in odd directions. He blinked at the sight of Adrelo kneeling by his bed, his hands clasped as if performing a sacred ritual.

“What the hell are you doing?” Milo asked, his voice groggy.

Adrelo didn’t answer, too engrossed in his morning plea to the void.

Milo squinted, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is that... gibberish? Are you summoning something? Should I be worried?”

Adrelo ignored him, muttering on.

Milo stared for a moment longer before shrugging.

“Alright, man. You do you.” He shuffled off to the kitchen, rubbing his face.

Moments later, Gareth’s door swung open.

Unlike Milo, Gareth was already fully dressed and ready for the day, his movements crisp and deliberate. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Adrelo kneeling by the bed, his head still bowed in fervent prayer.

Gareth raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.

“...What’s this? New morning ritual? Or have you finally lost it?”

Adrelo paused for a fraction of a second before resuming his muttering, choosing to ignore the comment entirely.

Gareth sighed, crossing his arms.

“Whatever. Just don’t start sacrificing animals or burning sages here.”

With that, he walked off toward the living room, shaking his head.

“He’s definitely unstable,” he muttered under his breath.

Once the sound of Gareth’s footsteps faded, Adrelo finally let out a long sigh and stood up.

“Not insane,” he whispered to himself. “Just careful.”

He straightened his clothes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. His delicate features and silvery eyes seemed more composed than his frazzled nerves. Okay, just survive another day. Avoid anyone important. No mistakes.

He walked toward the kitchen, where Milo and Gareth were already bickering over who would clean up last night’s dishes.

Adrelo rubbed his temples. At least these two aren’t part of the mess. Yet.

He grabbed a cup of tea and sat down at the table, trying to muster the courage for whatever the day would bring.

****

Adrelo walked alongside Milo and Gareth, their chatter a faint buzz in his ears. He was too preoccupied with reviewing the topic for their next class, mentally flipping through pages of the book he had studied the night before.

If the professor asks me again, I need to be prepared, he thought, his mind racing. Magical hierarchies, elemental theory... oh, and that complicated equation for mana flow.

He furrowed his brow in concentration, tuning out the world around him.

Until the scent hit him.

It was soft yet captivating, a blend of fresh citrus and something floral, light yet utterly enchanting. The kind of scent that demanded attention without being overpowering. Adrelo's steps faltered for a moment, his focus shattering like fragile glass.

What is that?

He turned his head slightly, scanning the crowd of students walking past. The allure of the fragrance was almost magnetic. He narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint its source.

And then he saw him.

A boy with medium-length blonde hair walked gracefully a few steps ahead of them. The sunlight streaming through the academy’s grand hall windows highlighted the golden strands, almost as if the world itself wanted to spotlight him.

Adrelo's eyes lingered on the boy's figure. He had an ethereal beauty—delicate yet striking, with a slim frame and an elegance that seemed effortless. Even from behind, the stranger exuded an unapproachable aura, as if he belonged to another world entirely.

For some reason, Adrelo’s heart skipped a beat.

What the hell is this?

He shook his head, trying to break free of the strange spell he seemed to be under. His chest tightened, and an inexplicable sense of unease crept over him.

No, no, no, this isn’t good. People like him are always trouble in these kinds of stories. They’re either important side characters, rivals, or—

The boy turned slightly, just enough for Adrelo to catch a glimpse of his profile. Perfectly sculpted features framed by golden hair, and those eyes—molyed gold and piercing, as if they could see right through someone’s soul.

Adrelo’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, the sound thundering in his ears.

Dangerous. He’s dangerous.

“Adrelo?” Milo’s voice snapped him out of his daze.

“What are you doing? Why are you slowing down?”

Adrelo stiffened, realizing he had stopped walking altogether.

“Uh, nothing. Just... nothing.”

He picked up his pace, moving briskly past both Milo and Gareth, his gaze locked on the floor ahead of him.

“Wait, where are you going in such a hurry?” Gareth called out, frowning.

“I—uh—don’t want to be late,” Adrelo muttered, his voice tight.

“Late? We still have plenty of time—”

But Adrelo wasn’t listening. His instincts screamed at him to get away, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the mysterious blonde boy. He didn’t need to confirm it; he just knew. Someone who looked like that wasn’t just a random student.

Another important character, he thought grimly, quickening his stride. The universe has it out for me. I need to stay away from him.

The scent still lingered faintly in the air, mocking him as he hurried toward his classroom.

Behind him, Milo exchanged a bewildered look with Gareth.

“What’s with him?” Milo asked.

“No idea,” Gareth replied. “Maybe he’s finally losing it.”

They both shrugged and followed after him at a more leisurely pace.

****

The blonde boy paused mid-stride and glanced back over his shoulder, his delicate features illuminated by the golden light streaming through the grand hall windows.

His soft, angelic smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his gaze settled on Adrelo’s retreating figure. There was something amusing, almost endearing, about the way Adrelo hurried off, as if he were trying to escape unseen.

The boy’s golden eyes lingered on Adrelo for a moment longer, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. With a soft chuckle under his breath, he turned away, his steps light and graceful as he made his way to his destination.

Arriving at the council’s room, he pushed open the heavy doors with practiced ease. The room was bathed in soft afternoon light, its grand windows casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table at the center. Ornate chairs surrounded it, and the room exuded an air of power and elegance befitting the leaders of the academy.

Finding the room empty, the blonde boy exhaled softly, his expression relaxing. He moved to the plush couch near the head table, sitting down with an elegance. He reached for the porcelain teapot on the low table beside him.

With a calm precision, he poured himself a cup of tea, the faint aroma of jasmine filling the air. He took a delicate sip, his lips curving into a faint, satisfied smile.

The door creaked open behind him, the sound accompanied by the measured footsteps of someone entering. The boy didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You’re already here, Your Highness Dennielle,” came the deep, refined voice of the newcomer.

Dennielle turned his head slightly, his gentle smile never faltering as he looked up at the older boy who approached him. The newcomer was tall, with broad shoulders and an air of quiet authority. His features were sharp and striking, his dark auburn hair swept neatly back. He was every bit the picture of refinement and discipline.

“Why hello, young master Cassius,” Dennielle greeted softly, his tone warm but laced with a subtle playfulness.

Cassius stopped a few steps away, his sharp obsidian eyes meeting Dennielle’s with quiet scrutiny. He stood there for a moment, as if calculating something, before finally taking a seat across from the prince.

The silence between them lingered, but neither seemed uncomfortable with it. Cassius knew better than to press Dennielle into conversation. The prince had always been one to speak only when he deemed it necessary, preferring calm and order over idle chatter.

It was Dennielle who eventually broke the silence, his voice light and melodic.

“I encountered a cute snowy bunny just now.”

Cassius raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by the remark. “A bunny?” he repeated, his tone calm but tinged with confusion.

“I don’t recall such creatures wandering arout the academia.”

Dennielle’s smile widened slightly, his closed eyes adding an air of serenity to his angelic visage. He set his teacup down with a soft clink and leaned back against the couch, his every movement deliberate and poised.

“I wasn’t speaking of a literal bunny,” Dennielle clarified, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

“Though it was just as skittish and wide-eyed as one might imagine.”

Cassius tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing.

“Are you speaking of a student?”

Dennielle’s only response was a faint chuckle, his expression unreadable yet captivating.

“Young master,” Dennielle began, his voice carrying a teasing,

“Have you ever seen something so peculiar, so utterly adorable, that you felt the sudden urge to... play with it?”

Cassius stared at the prince, his composure unwavering despite the unexpected turn in the conversation.

“If you’re referring to another student, Your Highness, I’d advise caution. Especially if they’re unremarkable.”

Dennielle waved a hand dismissively, his gaze distant as if he were already lost in thought.

“Oh, he’s remarkable, in his own way. A snowy-haired boy, with a face so delicately lovely it might rival some of the academy’s most notable beauties.”

“Yet you call him a bunny,” Cassius remarked dryly.

“Because he was amusing,”

Dennielle replied, his tone soft yet firm.

“The way he scurried off so quickly, as though he’d just realized he was in the presence of someone he could not escape from. It’s rare to see such pure reactions these days.”

Cassius leaned back in his chair, observing the prince with a mixture of intrigue and caution.

“And what do you intend to do with this... bunny?”

Dennielle’s smile turned ever so slightly mischievous, his golden eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge.

“I’ve found something to play with”

He said simply, taking another sip of his tea.

Cassius exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“As always, Your Highness, your definition of ‘play’ concerns me.”

Dennielle merely laughed softly, his melodic voice filling the room like a gentle breeze.

For now, he would keep his true intentions to himself, but one thing was certain, his encounter with the snowy-haired boy had sparked a new curiosity within him, one he was eager to explore.