Chapter 1
987words
Today, as student council president, he commanded the podium during the opening ceremony. Sunlight poured through the hall's glass dome, bathing him in an almost divine golden aura.
Below the stage, girls huddled together, cheeks flushed as they gazed up with undisguised adoration.
He possessed the perfect trifecta: devastating good looks, obscene wealth, and that perpetual, calculated smile that never quite left his lips.
Luna sat in the furthest corner of the hall, staring up at him while clutching a crumpled job flyer in her hand.
A cluster of designer-clad girls sauntered past, breaking Luna's trance. "Luna, Professor Sutter wants you," one called out.
As Luna turned, a deliberate shoulder check knocked her sideways, nearly sending her books tumbling to the floor.
She looked up into eyes brimming with undisguised contempt.
"Better hurry," the girl said, her perfect smile at odds with her venomous tone. "Miss another deadline and kiss this week's stipend goodbye too."
With a theatrical sneer, she linked arms with her friend and sashayed away, hips swinging.
Luna felt a familiar twist of confusion, though she'd grown accustomed to such unprovoked hostility. At this playground for the privileged, her very existence as a scholarship student was treated as an unforgivable transgression.
She hurried past the music room, where liquid piano notes spilled into the hallway—an elegance crafted exclusively for the children of privilege. Another invisible barrier between her world and theirs.
In the student council office, Professor Sutter had clearly been waiting. His pinched expression radiated disapproval. "You're three minutes late."
"I apologize, Professor," Luna murmured.
"I'll be docking your stipend accordingly."
Luna remained silent, moving to the desk to begin reviewing the complex financial reports.
Professor Sutter straightened, resuming his pedagogical stance. "I'm developing your time management skills. You should be grateful."
"I understand." Luna kept her eyes on her work, her voice steady.
Her pen traced along a column of figures, pausing at a fundamental error Sutter himself had made.
Sutter, momentarily satisfied with her submission, decided she needed further correction. "Your efficiency remains subpar, and your work ethic is lacking. I've been generous with opportunities. Many students would kill for your position—"
"Professor," Luna interrupted, tearing the draft in half and looking up with eyes suddenly crystalline and unflinching, "there are seven errors in your calculations."
Sutter's expression curdled instantly.
Luna, seemingly oblivious to his reaction, methodically identified each mistake with clinical precision—her calm demeanor more devastating than any outburst could have been.
Sutter's lips compressed into a bloodless line, cold fury radiating from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
Just then, a measured, unhurried knock sounded at the door—the very embodiment of polite interruption.
"Enter," Sutter snapped.
The door swung open, revealing a silhouette backlit by the hallway lights. The room's suffocating tension dissipated like fog before sunlight.
The newcomer possessed extraordinary eyes—like polished garnets catching firelight. Those eyes held a gentle smile, as if harboring cool spring water. He nodded slightly, his voice smooth as river stones clicking together: "I appear to have interrupted something."
"However, the council requires an urgent document," he continued, his gaze sliding past Sutter's rigid face to settle on Luna with apologetic warmth. "I do regret the intrusion."
Sutter leapt to his feet, his tone instantly sycophantic. "President Blackwood! What an unexpected pleasure. Whatever document you need, I'll have the girl fetch it immediately."
Asher's smile remained courteous but cool. "No need to trouble yourself, Professor. The document would be handled most efficiently by the person directly responsible." His gaze returned to Luna, his smile warming perceptibly. "The quarterly financial audit for student organizations should be in your care, correct?"
She nodded, her voice catching slightly. "Y-yes, Mr. President."
"I appreciate your assistance," Asher continued, completely disregarding Sutter's increasingly uncomfortable presence. "I require this report rather urgently. If you wouldn't mind accompanying me to the archives?"
Each word carried the veneer of request, yet collectively they formed a command impossible to refuse.
His timing had unquestionably rescued her from Sutter's clutches.
Luna glanced briefly at Sutter before responding quietly, "Of course, Mr. President."
"Shall we?" Asher held the door open with a courtly "after you" gesture worthy of Arthurian legend.
Outside the office, beyond Sutter's poisonous glare, Luna felt her shoulders relax slightly. She followed Asher through the hushed corridor, her heart still hammering against her ribs.
"Thank you for that," she murmured, eyes downcast.
"For what exactly?" Asher slowed his stride to match hers.
"For... extracting me from that situation."
Asher's soft laugh made her glance up. His garnet eyes, caught in the corridor's amber lighting, seemed to contain shifting currents of light—mesmerizing and somehow unsettling.
"I didn't rescue you," he said gently. "I merely stated facts. Your competence is well-known among the faculty advisors. Professor Sutter was likely just having a difficult day."
His casual comment managed to preserve the professor's dignity while firmly aligning himself with her.
A warm current swept through Luna's heart, which had grown calloused from constant coldness and contempt.
She looked up, daring for the first time to meet those magnetic eyes directly.
"Your eyes... they're unusual," she said, the words escaping before she could catch them.
Asher's smile faltered momentarily before widening. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper: "Do you think so? People say my eyes hide secrets."
His breath felt cool against her ear—like winter cedar—sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Luna's pulse quickened, heat flooding her cheeks.
Noting her reaction, he arched one perfect eyebrow, his smile deepening with unmistakable interest.
The spiral staircase descended before them, light and shadow playing across their figures as they walked.
Luna was acutely aware of her own nervous footfalls. Asher's tall frame cast a long shadow that seemed to swallow her smaller form, as if cutting her off from the world and drawing her into a private darkness that belonged to him alone.
