51 - First Day of Classes (1)

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"Are you... kidding me?" I gawked at the schedule papers in my hand, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. Each student's calendar had been distributed a few hours ago. The morning before the first day of classes was the time when students could prepare for their commute and get ready, but I just stood there, my feet glued to the floor, struggling to wrap my head around the current situation.

"This is insane," I whispered, gulping.

Alsar Academy had a different class system than other schools. Depending on one's magical talent, students could be placed in one of seven ranks: S, A, B, C, D, E, or F. Typically, F housed the most students with the least magical talent, with about half of the school in that rank. The populations in each rank grew smaller and smaller the higher it became, with S having less than 1 percent of the school, ranging from 1 student to 10.

In the otome game, this was where the heroine met all of the capture targets, all at once, and began the formal plotline. They would study together, practice together, and travel on expeditions hosted by the school. In the S rank, the heroine, along with all of the capture targets, would be in something like a bubble, rarely exposed to the rest of the ranks.

So why was I in S?

I forced out an awkward laugh, my eyes frisking around the room as I tried to fool myself. "A mistake, a mistake..." I repeated the same words over and over in my mind, hoping for it to manifest somehow in divine intervention. "Only the heroine and the capture targets are supposed to be in S! I should be somewhere else! No, I can't, this is impossible..."

I gulped, the towel on my head sliding off as I fell into a self-driven stupor. I have an hour. An hour before the first class. Maybe, if I go to the—

"Rem!" A muffled voice called from outside the door. "Rem, are you there?"

I muttered a curse, tossing the towel onto the bed with frustration. My mind raced, consumed by the urgent need to find a solution, leaving no room for idle curiosity about the person outside the door. I briskly approached the door, grabbing its handle and swinging the door open.

There, on the other side, stood someone with droopy, puppy-like eyes and an absurdly obedient smile plastered across his face. He clutched a bouquet of fragrant, crimson roses tightly in his trembling fingers, his anticipation palpable.

My heart dropped to my gut. "What..." I wanted to cry but held it in and barely maintained my calm.

Why is that deceptive puppy-boy here? He should be with Aileen right now! My inner turmoil raged. And what's the deal with the flowers?

----

(3rd person.)

Remis remained silent as he stood awkwardly in the corridor, stalling mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on Theodore's figure. His mind raced as he struggled to think on the spot.

The bouquet, still awkwardly held in Theodore's hands, was thrust forward, and small water droplets flew off the petals in a flourish. "H-happy first day of school, Rem," Theodore stammered, shifting his weight nervously, his soft hair shifting under the mellow morning light. His chin was tucked into his chest, his bashfulness overwhelming his originally sunny disposition.

Remis blinked, and without thinking, he grabbed the bouquet. His mouth opened and closed, and after a few seconds, the silence was finally broken.

"Wh-why are you here?" He managed to sputter out, his mind still overwhelmed with waves of justifications. His partially fixed bed hair and half-closed eyes made for a stunning image, his poorly hidden bewilderment from Theodore's sudden appearance easily visible.

Theodore froze, his eyes momentarily stalling on Remis' lips. He coughed and hastily shifted his gaze away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. "I-I... yes– I'm here..."

Theodore felt his face blaze with embarrassment. His original plan to accompany Remis to school had been thrown into disarray by the unexpected state of the black-haired youth. Words stumbled and fumbled in his mouth as he grappled for composure.

Remis, lost in his own thoughts, failed to register the sudden change in Theodore's demeanor and simply raised an eyebrow. Seconds dragged on, each filled with the weight of unspoken thoughts. Eventually, he motioned for the guest to come in, releasing his hold on the door's handle. With an almost lifeless gaze, he trudged towards the living room couch.

I'm really going to meet my doom today, Remis thought to himself, despair gripping his mind like a vice. He gripped his unkempt hair, pulling on a lock, as his thoughts spiraled further into the abyss. That's it. I've already fallen for the lying puppy-boy's falsehoods before. What did I really expect? That he'd actually adhere to the damn plotline for once?

His self-reproach was interrupted by a far-fetched, eerie premonition. He clenched his fists, a chill running down his spine. I just know that soon, Cyrus and the other cursed capture targets will come crashing through my door and ruin whatever semblance of hope I have left.

The weight of his desolation hung heavy in the air. Then, like a cruel twist of fate, two knocks on the door interrupted the silence of the living room. The last of his resolve cracked and broke into a thousand pieces. Remis pulled himself up. Each step he took toward the door was heavy and deliberate, as if every moment was an eternity. The early morning feeling permeated his outlook, dramatizing the event.

Just as he was about to turn the handle, Theodore had snapped out of his daze. His realization was slow, and by the time he understood what was happening, it was too late to prevent him from turning the handle and for his unimpeded time with Remis to continue.

"Remi~ I'm here!" Cyrus jubilantly exclaimed, his angelic beam pasted onto his face. Sticking his nose into the small door opening, he peered inside. His eyes immediately gravitated to Theodore, who was frozen in his spot, just about to grab Remis' arm and stop him from turning the handle.

"Oh~ and the duke's son is here too, I see... how wonderful~" He uttered through gritted teeth, his eyes turning dark. Remis, too exhausted to speak after the previous two events, simply allowed Cyrus to march in.

"Maybe they confused my room for Aileen's..." Remis spoke false words of consolation, slumping against the wall. Theodore stared at Cyrus with an unwelcome gaze, his expression frosty. He didn't know why Cyrus was at Remis' room so early, nor did he understand why Remis would allow such a two-faced pretentious bastard into the room. Theodore wanted to laugh. He's been fooled for so long, of course he doesn't know about the prime minister's son's true nature. His gaze turned more frigid, staring daggers through Cyrus' forehead.

Cyrus' once charming smile momentarily withered, replaced by a gloomy and disdainful smirk directed at Theodore. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back to Remis with a fond smile, his possessive desire concealed beneath his veneer. The room seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, as if emotions were simmering beneath the surface, all while Cyrus' eyes remained locked on the vibrant red bouquet of roses clutched in Theodore's hand.

Cyrus forced out a chuckle, his eyes starting to reveal his extreme emotions. "And... who may this be from?" He asked as he seized the roses by their delicate heads and ruthlessly yanked them from Remis's grip. The red petals cascaded to the floor, leaving only the shattered remnants of stems in Remis's grasp.

Theodore finally couldn't contain his incredulous laughter, his eyes locked onto Cyrus's possessive act. His previous irritation became blatantly evident as he advanced toward Cyrus, fingers tightening around the other's shoulder. The earlier puppyish demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

"What do you think you're doing, bastard?" He hissed. It was his first time giving roses. It was the first time Cyrus had seen Remis in such a vulnerable and beautiful state, devoid of the usual guarded walls that went up whenever Theodore's true identity was revealed. The genuine and unguarded moment was a rare sight. He wasn't willing to let the moment go just because of the sudden intervention by some bastard.

Cyrus' face twisted back into an irritated sneer. His eyes held a confrontational fire, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. "Why, I'm only eliminating unnecessary distractions," he spat back.

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