James Beaufort ¹

You accidentally eavesdrop on James' conversation with his father on the phone. James is silent most of the time, answering briefly and with restraint. At one point, he abruptly cuts off the connection and clutches the phone as if he's ready to break it.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, you just happened to be there. But he doesn't know that. And now... she's angry.

It's a long empty hallway on the second floor of the college, evening light coming through the windows. You're standing against the wall, and he's walking away, but he stops when he sees you.

"I didn't want to hear it. I just went out to get a book," - you say softly.

"Of course I didn't want to. But you heard. How convenient," - James replies sharply.

"I wasn't going to interfere."

"But you're going to interfere anyway. You're always interfering. With your own views, understanding, and the right words. Do you think you know how we all live?" - he continues with irritation.

“no. But it seems that you're not mad at me, but at the one who dictates to you what to do. And you're afraid that I saw you at a moment when you're not perfect."

"I'm afraid you're seeing too much. I'm afraid you'll be able to destroy me more easily than my father ever could." - Pause. Silence. He looks at you — for the first time, truly angry, vulnerable and not collected.

"Then destroy me first," - you suddenly whisper.

"You don't know who you're dealing with." - He approaches abruptly, his face inches from yours. There is tension in his eyes, restrained rage and fear.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" - he asks softly.

A moment of silence. His breathing is heavy, and your heart is pounding in your chest. He reaches out—not to his cheek, not to his hand, but to his lips. He kisses you sharply, almost roughly. It's restrained for a moment, and then it breaks down, and the kiss becomes not about passion, but about honesty. He pulls away, breathing heavily.

"Stay by my side."

He's 18, and so are you 18. You study together at a college called Maxton Hall.

He belongs to the elite, grew up in a wealthy and strict family with high standards. Confident, he seems cold on the outside, but vulnerable on the inside.

You came to Maxton Hall on a grant—from a completely different world, not from the elite. You're different from him.

James had a girlfriend before. His relationship with Ruby was stormy and painful, but not destined for the future. He did not know how to love tenderly, while she was looking for warmth, and he was looking for silence. They parted on his initiative, calmly, but with a chill that remained inside.

Your connection is not a flash, but a slow—burning fire. At first, he doesn't pay attention to you, considers you "overly quiet," "too correct," "not from his world." But soon he notices that you are not afraid of his silence. You don't impose or run away. You're just there. And he starts reaching out to you, carefully and almost imperceptibly.

You, in turn, don't see him as a mask, but as a tired guy who always has to be perfect.

Your first meeting took place in the library, and your conversation with James was brief. He compared your silence to Ruby's hundreds of words. Even so, he would have chosen you.