The morning arrived, and Zain left her alone, staying on his side of the bed. Did the argument succeed, or was he pretending to evoke sympathy from her? And when she did, would he spring out and label her as cute? A word she disliked and could never associate herself with. 

Leila hesitated to get out of bed. Zain was there, but he hadn’t tried anything. As long as he didn't, she had no qualms about him, which a part of her found odd. With Zain and all he imposed on her, sleeping with him, as long as he kept to himself, became a novelty. But she had goals to achieve today, which motivated her to get up and get ready. She glanced at him in the same way.

Would he stay in bed all day? He was shirtless, wearing shorts, and his hair was a mess. An impulse to care for him arose—to untangle, dress, and comfort him—but she resisted. 

She stared at him while he sulked, even as he rolled to the middle and curled up in a fetal position. Why did this bother him? She had insulted him and argued with him several times before, but he interpreted her behavior as playful and deceptive, concealing her true feelings—a mischievous game she played with a lover. Why now? What changed?

She desired answers, but seeking them would disrupt what she had initiated. She left it there. Maybe the shadow clone would tell her the next time they met. She paused and asked in a cold, yet fiery tone—“Coming?"—and left. If he decided to come, it was up to him.

The hallways were packed with students. They talked and strode to class as a few ran, creating minor collisions. Leila followed in line, taking a slow stroll. Today would be normal. The idea persisted, buzzing in her abdomen like butterflies fluttering, cheering on the notion.

She turned the corner, the door of History Class coming into view, where the students stared at her. Since she left her dorm, they had stared, but she ignored it. Their gazes had a mix of curiosity, lust, and shock. None were negative, but Leila knew it wasn’t normal. They knew she was in a relationship with Zain. She couldn't fault their curiosity. However, she did find fault with their lust and shock.

Their eyes resembled those who stared at her after the session during the Combat Training Class. Back then, Seduction could have affected them, but Zain hadn’t cast it on these students. An intense swirl replaced the butterflies in her stomach.

Leila clenched her fist as she trembled, her palms wet and clammy. She rushed to the classroom door. Inside, she would be safe. Free from the students and the chilled atmosphere they created. The students parted, allowing her to pass through. She reached the door, opened it, closed it, and sighed. 

She leaned against the door and slid down, staring at the floor. Her hands still trembled, and her palms were sweaty as her heart raced. She couldn't shake the image of them from her mind. Their gazes, unlike the intensity of Zain's lust, were not as strong or consistent. Their gazes fluctuated between weak and strong, with a scattered focus that did not settle on any specific part of her. How she knew that? She had no idea, but she knew it was right.

“You okay?” A voice from above asked Leila, prompting her to tilt her head. A student leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. Her long amber hair, tied in a braid, swayed with her cylindrical blue crystal earrings. Their eyes met. Her eyes were a soft, bright blue, devoid of lust or surprise, but filled with a blend of concern and curiosity.

“Yeah," Leila said.

The woman reached out her hand. "I'm Freira Caveadel. And you are?”

"Leila." She accepted it. "Thanks."

“Leila…” Freira mumbled as her eyes darted around. "I got it. You're that girl, aren't you?"

“What girl?” The swirl in her abdomen returned.

“The one who—how should I say it—the one who did that thing with the hero during class. You know," she gestured, groping the air. “For the entire class. That was so brazen of him. I wish I had a boyfriend like that, but I'd pass on the show-and-tell part. I don't want others to see."

“I… see.” The swirl inside her burst into a torrent, but she suppressed it. She averted her eyes, losing eye contact, which made it worse. She pushed past her and found several students already seated.

They saw the entire spectacle, with expressions mirroring those in the halls outside. She ignored them, as turmoil and emptiness consumed her. A hand grabbed her from behind, holding her still. Freira stood there, her concern overshadowing her curiosity.

“What's w—?” Freira tried to ask, but Leila pulled her arm away. She had no reason or desire to engage with her. She ascended the stairs and found her seat.

Head in hands, Leila sat, staring blankly at the podium, as the History Professor, a black-bearded man, began his lecture. The emptiness filled, and she processed everything.

Zain did this. He lied to her. The students remembered every detail, and even those who were absent knew all about it.

This action bothered her the most out of everything he did, shattering the little tolerance she had for him. He had twisted lies to trick and embarrass her, but they were minor lies that affected her short-term. This time, it impacted all students and professors, altering their perception of her. And nothing stopped it from affecting her outside the academy. Whether her life improved or worsened from this incident, she didn’t know, and she was forced to leave it to luck.

At this point, she could no longer tolerate sleeping with Zain. She couldn't bear to sleep or even stay in the same room with him anymore. Before the day ended, she planned to move out, leveraging her current situation to escape as far as she could. Whatever the shadow clone wanted of her, she refused, knowing it had to do with Zain in the future.

Today should’ve been... 

Normal. As ordinary as possible. No Zain to meddle with her life. Attend History class to learn about the events before the War of Grenze, which created the first hero, Zephyr, a thousand years ago. After History, she had Potion-Making, a class she found interesting. The normalcy she gained this morning vanished, never to return.

She turned her attention to the class. The students made guesses and gave random answers, providing Leila with the information she needed to answer the question. But she didn't answer, using it as a distraction.

A student called out, "The hero, Zephyr, was born as a commoner."

“Correct,” the professor said. “How…"

Two hours later, Leila filed out of the classroom. Her focus throughout the class remained on changing dorms and sorting out the mess Zain caused, with little on the professor’s lecture. Missing it didn't irk her, as he avoided discussing wars and focused on Zephyr's early life, which she already had a decent grasp of and was not interested in.

The students in the halls didn’t stare, giving glances, and kept to themselves. All except Freira searched for her and followed her, trying to catch up with her. Did she want to talk to her? Most likely. Leila refrained from speaking to someone who couldn't control their tongue.

Leila blended in with the students, making it hard for Freira to spot her as she shouted her name. She quickened her pace to a half-run.

Once out of the hallway, she turned right, in the opposite direction of the student who was headed for lunch. She wasn’t hungry, and neither did her body have an appetite for human food, or at least she hadn’t yet. Instead, she made her way to the Administration Office to change dorms. It’d end her turmoil and give her a sense of progress to motivate her the rest of the way.