Saint Aurelius Academy

CHAPTER 1

The stadium lights burned white against the deep blue evening sky over Kyoto*. Spring air carried the smell of rain-damp grass, energy drinks, and the sharp electric excitement of a school championship match.*
The stands were loud tonight.
Too loud.
Students packed the bleachers in school colors, drums beating somewhere near the back rows while names echoed across the field in uneven chants.
But Yuna sat quietly three rows from the top.
Not with Elias's friends.
Not with the official supporters.
Alone.
A gray hoodie pulled over her uniform shirt, camera hanging loosely around her neck so she looked more like someone covering the event than someone emotionally invested in it.
Because publicly dating Elias Laurent came with rules neither of them had created.
His family disliked distractions.
Especially emotional ones.
Especially girls.
Especially girls from ordinary families.
And even though his parents were currently somewhere in Paris attending some charity gala full of crystal glasses and political smiles, Elias once told her quietly:
"My mother doesn't need to be present to know things."
At first Yuna thought he was exaggerating.
Then she noticed:
teachers reporting behavior,
family drivers casually mentioning names,
relatives somehow hearing about tiny incidents weeks later.
The Laurent family operated like a corporation pretending to be a household.
So she stayed hidden.
Mostly.
Down on the field, Elias moved like controlled violence.
Dark hair damp with sweat, jersey sticking slightly to his back as he sprinted across the pitch. Every movement precise. Efficient. Sharp.
The crowd adored him.
Of course they did.
He was beautiful in the irritating way rich boys often were - effortless from a distance.
But Yuna knew better.
She noticed the tension in his jaw.
The way he checked the scoreboard too often.
The way mistakes made his shoulders stiffen for exactly half a second before he buried the reaction.
Because for Elias, performance was never just performance.
It was proof.
The score sat at 1-1.
Final minutes.
The opposing team's captain shoved Elias hard near midfield.
The crowd booed.
Elias barely reacted, immediately regaining possession.
Controlled.
Always controlled.
But Yuna knew him well enough to catch the flicker in his expression.
He was angry now.
And angry Elias played dangerously well.
The ball cut across the field.
One pass.
Another.
Then Elias broke through the defense line fast enough for the entire stadium to rise to its feet.
Even Yuna stood instinctively.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs as he pushed forward toward the goal.
For a second the world narrowed into him alone.
Then-
GOAL.
The stadium exploded.
Students screamed.
Teammates crashed into him instantly, grabbing his shoulders, shouting his name while cameras flashed from the sidelines.
And somewhere in the middle of the chaos...
Elias looked up.
Directly toward the top rows.
Toward her.
Not obvious enough for others to notice.
Just one glance.
One tiny shift in expression.
But Yuna saw it immediately.
The tension in his face eased.
Just slightly.
As if in the middle of all this noise, all these expectations, all these people wanting something from him-
he had only been checking whether she was there.The match ended in noise.
Students flooded the field barriers, laughing too loudly, replaying the goal like it had already become school legend. Somewhere near the lower stands, music blasted from portable speakers while teammates shouted about the after-party already starting across town.
Yuna slipped away before the crowd thickened.
The corridors beneath the stadium were colder, quieter. Concrete walls. Flickering fluorescent lights. The distant echo of cleats scraping against tile.
She pulled her hoodie tighter as she moved past storage rooms and vending machines, heart beating faster the closer she got to the locker area.
Because technically...
she was not supposed to be here.
Not according to school rules.
And definitely not according to the invisible rules surrounding Elias Laurent.
A few players passed her, too distracted and exhausted to care. One of them smirked knowingly but said nothing.
Everyone noticed things.
Nobody said them out loud.
At the end of the corridor, she spotted him.
Still in partial uniform, navy jacket thrown over his shoulders, damp hair falling messily over his forehead. A sports bag rested near his feet while the family driver waited outside the glass exit doors beyond him.
Of course there was already a car waiting.
Black.
Expensive.
Engine running.
Elias stood alone beside the bench, checking messages on his phone.
His expression changed almost instantly.
Not happy.
Never visibly happy when reading messages from home.
Just... closed off.
Yuna slowed.
From where she stood, she could actually watch it happen.
The transformation.
The soccer star disappeared first.
Then the teenager.
Then suddenly he was just Elias Laurent again - posture straightening automatically, emotions folded away neatly before anyone could see them.
His phone buzzed once more.
He typed quickly:
Yes, Father.
We won.
I'm leaving now.
Nothing else.
No excitement.
No mention of the winning goal.
No "I played well."
Like the match itself had simply been another task completed correctly.
Yuna hated that.
Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward.
"Wow," she said lightly, leaning against the wall, "your emotional speech moved me deeply."
Elias looked up sharply.
And there it was.
That tiny expression he only wore around her.
Relief.
Small. Immediate. Real.
"You're supposed to be in the stands," he said quietly.
"You're supposed to be celebrating."
"I am celebrating."
"You're hiding in a hallway."
"You came to find me," he countered.
Yuna opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
Annoyingly fair point.
A faint smile pulled briefly at Elias's mouth before disappearing again as his phone lit up once more. He ignored it this time.
Outside, the driver checked his watch.
Yuna noticed.
"Not even one hour?" she asked softly.
Elias shrugged like it didn't matter.
"They said after-parties affect discipline."
"That is the most billionaire sentence I've ever heard."
A quiet laugh escaped him then.
Brief.
Tired.
Dangerous, honestly, because every time Elias laughed unexpectedly, Yuna remembered he was still just seventeen underneath all that composure.
She stepped closer.
"You scored the winning goal," she murmured. "You're allowed to enjoy things, you know."
His gaze dropped toward the floor for a second.
"You say that like it's simple."
"It should be."
"For you maybe."
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Yuna felt it immediately.
Not anger at her.
Just exhaustion looking for somewhere to land.
Silence settled between them for a moment while muffled cheering echoed faintly from outside.
Then Elias exhaled quietly and reached for her hand.
Fast.
Subtle.
Like even here he was afraid someone might see.
His fingers were cold from the night air.
"I looked for you after the goal," he admitted softly.
Yuna's chest tightened a little.
"You found me."
"Yeah."
Another pause.
Then from outside:
The driver opened the car door.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Elias glanced toward the exit like someone remembering the world had started moving again.
And suddenly Yuna hated the car.
Hated the expectations inside it.
Hated how every moment with him always felt timed. Monitored. Temporary.
But Elias squeezed her hand once before letting go.
A tiny gesture.
Quick enough that nobody watching through the glass would notice.
Yet somehow it carried more affection than boys who shouted love publicly every five minutes.
"I'll call you tonight," he said.
Yuna folded her arms. "You said that yesterday."
"I fell asleep studying."
"You fell asleep being oppressed by capitalism."
That earned another real laugh.
Quieter this time.
Warmer.
Then Elias stepped back toward the exit doors reluctantly, bag over one shoulder.
For one second he looked like he wanted to say something else.
Something honest.
Something vulnerable.
But the driver was watching now.
So instead he simply said:
"Get home safely, Yuna."
Formal.
Controlled again.
And just like that, the Laurent heir returned.