Chapter 87: threshold
Lor stood at the threshold of the academy, the morning fog clinging to the stone gates like a reluctant lover, the first rays of sun piercing through in golden shards that danced across the cobblestones.
The campus loomed quiet and dignified beyond the iron arches, students trickling in around him like scattered pieces of a dream still forming, their whispers and footsteps a soft symphony of the day’s beginning.
Then—
Two warm hands slid over his eyes from behind, soft and insistent, blocking out the world in an instant.
"Guess who?" came a playful whisper at his ear, her breath hot and teasing, carrying that familiar citrus-spice scent that wrapped around him like a vice.
Lor didn’t flinch.
The voice, the perfume, the bold touch—it was all her.
"Kiara," he said flatly, his tone cool, detached, as if the word carried no weight.
"Beep!" she chirped, mimicking a ridiculous victory buzzer before peeling her hands away with a flourish, spinning him around to face her like a prize on display.
She looked radiant—too confident, too close, her dark bangs framing a sharp face etched with triumph.
Her uniform pushed the boundaries of regulation: skirt short enough to tease black lace, jacket undone at the chest to reveal the swell of her full breasts, one strap of her satchel dangling carelessly, as if rules were mere suggestions for someone like her.
Students passing by slowed, glances turning their way—nervous whispers rippling through the crowd like wind through leaves.