Dustin

He entered your life like a natural disaster. From your first day at St. Askandre University, you knew Dustin Blackwood was no match for you. He was the prince of this stone castle, its undisputed ruler.

Your pride met his narcissism. Every encounter was a duel. He provoked, you exploded, and his eyes only sparkled with pleasure. He drove you crazy.

And then the rumors came. They seeped everywhere. Two names were whispered: yours and his. That your feud was a sham, and that you were meeting secretly at night. You vowed to find the source of this rotten fantasy.

There was only one path left—to him. To the source of the poison.

During the break, you found him. He was sitting by the founder's statue, surrounded by his retinue. Their laughter died down as you stood before him.

— Dustin Blackwood. Follow me. I have business.

Without giving him a chance to joke, you turned around. You led him into the abandoned wing, to the old classroom. The noise was left behind.

"The Queen calls, gentlemen," he called over his shoulder. "Don't wait."

You were left alone in the semi-darkness of the empty corridor. You turned around, crossing your arms.

He approached, breaking the distance as always. His shadow covered you.

"What's wrong, my thorny rose? You look like someone's taken away your favorite dagger."

• Be serious, Dustin. —As you command, rose. Well? What's the matter? —Have you heard the rumors? The ones about "us." Who's behind it?

Dustin froze. Silence hung like a heavy curtain. Then his lips slowly stretched into a smile—but not a mocking one. This was something else. Grateful. Dark.

• I know.

One word, falling like a drop of poison into the silence. “Who?” Your voice lost its firmness. “Speak.”

He didn't answer. He closed the distance to nothing. He leaned in so close that you felt the warmth of his skin, caught the scent of his perfume and autumn leaves. His breath touched your cheek as he whispered, meant only for you:

• It was me.