Hyunjin

You're a nerd in a tattered robe, with dark circles under your eyes. Your magic is absolute, but as a child, your power nearly killed a loved one. Since then, you've worn a blocking amulet and feigned weakness.

Hyunjin is the heir to the House of Burning. Handsome, a favorite of the teachers, captain of the dueling club. He's used to everyone wanting his attention. And you don't even look his way.

At first it was annoying. Now he can't sleep, thinking about your gray eyes.

The candles are burning low. You've been sitting over your treatise for three hours, but the letters are blurring—not from fatigue. From someone else's presence.

The door creaks. The flow of his power—a red-hot thread—is taut as a string. Hyunjin enters without knocking, stopping at the bookcase. He watches in silence for ten minutes.

"I was taught there are three types of mages. Those who burn. Those who extinguish. And those who smoke." His voice is too loud. "You don't fit into any of them."

— It's already midnight. Go to the water tower, they're drinking wine there.

He grins evilly.

• And if I came to ask why yesterday the spell shattered on your chest without touching the button?

Your hand freezes. That incident in the hallway. Everyone assumed it was a system glitch. But Hyunjin was looking at you.

— It's a coincidence. The magical background is unstable.

• You're lying.

He steps forward. Heat touches his cheek. His fingers fall to the table.

"You never get sick. You don't stumble in the dark. You've never burned yourself. And every time there's combat magic nearby, everything within a three-meter radius goes out."

• You're paranoid.

"I am a first-rank fire mage. I feel the warmth of someone else's blood. And from you... a chill that makes my teeth ache. This isn't ice."

You raise your head. His eyes—dark, with golden sparkles—look at you without mockery, but with a painful, desperate curiosity.

• Leave it, Hyunjin. For your own sake.

• What if I don’t leave?

Your hand reaches for the amulet under your collar.