The Academy's Genius Mage

The cafeteria had the kind of quiet that made whispers carry further than conversations.

A few cadets scattered around, some nursing drinks, some pretending to read, a notable number doing neither because there was something more interesting happening across the room.

Lucas was aware of being the interesting thing and was handling it the way he handled most things by staring straight ahead and pretending he didn’t exist.

"Is that Sylvia Silvercrest?"

"Yeah. Who’s the guy?"

"You don’t know? Apparently she’s actually dating that talentless one."

"I wish I were him."

Every word hit his back like an arrow. Lucas lowered his cup very slowly, set it on the table, and continued staring at a fixed point on the wall with the expression of a man having a quiet conversation with all of his life choices.

"This feels less like a relationship," he muttered, at a volume only Sylvia could catch, "and more like a public execution. Just me. Every day."

Sylvia sat across from him looking like none of this was happening. Posture perfect, tea in hand, the particular composure of someone who exists at the center of a weather system and simply lives there. She took a calm sip.

Then glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"I thought you’d at least try to look convincing," she said.

Lucas turned to her with the expression of a man who has something to say about that. "I’m deeply convincing. I’m sitting here aren’t I? That’s commitment. That’s acting."

"You look like you’re waiting for something to hit you."

"Something IS hitting me. It’s called whispers. They’re relentless."

Sylvia set her cup down. "I’m not exactly enjoying this either," she said, quieter now, the teasing gone for a second. "You think I like having everyone watching every time I exist near another person?"

Lucas’s expression shifted just slightly. He looked at her properly.

"But we don’t have a choice right now," she continued, fingers resting lightly on the cup. "A few weeks. Maybe a bit longer. Then everything goes back to how it was."

"Yeah," he said. "I know. I get it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It’s just—"

"Just what?" Her voice shifted again, the teasing slipping back in from the edges, a small sharpness to it. "Is there someone else? Is that why you’re struggling this much? Should I be worried you’re secretly trying to cheat on me already?"

Lucas choked on his drink, one hand coming up to cover his mouth while the other nearly took his cup off the table entirely.

"WHAT." He turned to her, voice still rough. "Where did that come from—"

"You’re struggling very hard for someone with nothing to hide."

"I have NOTHING to hide—"

"The choking suggests otherwise."

"The choking was from SHOCK—"

"Shock at being found out," Sylvia said, the picture of calm, lifting her cup again.

"There is nothing to find out."

"Mm."

Sylvia took a serene sip of her tea.

Lucas stared at her. His eye twitched once. He looked at the ceiling briefly, collecting himself, then back at the table.

He narrowed his eyes at Sylvia.

She was looking slightly to the side, not at him, which meant she was aware he was narrowing his eyes and had decided that was his problem.

He opened his mouth to say something.

Sylvia leaned forward, one hand came up, fingers catching lightly at the edge of his collar, straightening it with a small, precise motion. The fabric shifted under her touch, and for a second, just a second, she was close enough that he could feel it.

Warmth and unavoidable.

"Sit properly," she said, like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just closed the distance between them without warning.

A few eyes definitely lingered longer than before.

"...Wow."

"She’s something else."

Someone somewhere made a sound that wasn’t a word.

Lucas caught himself noticing it and immediately hated that he did.

He looked back at his cup.

"Alright," he said instead, leaning forward slightly. "Be honest with me."

Sylvia looked at him.

"How many people have you dated and dumped before this."

She paused mid-sip.

Set the cup down. Turned to him with the full weight of her attention. "I’m sorry?"

"Come on." Lucas put his elbow on the table, the posture of someone who has committed to a theory.

"You’re too natural at this. The composure, the complete inability to be flustered, the way you just operate. That’s not some first times. That’s practice and experience. So I’m asking, genuinely, how many people did you emotionally destroy on the way to being this good at it."

Sylvia stared at him.

"You’re making me sound like a villain."

"I mean." He tilted his head. "You have that Final boss energy."

Sylvia looked at him for a long moment. Then she picked up her cup again.

"My second form," she said flatly, "would simply be more irritated."

"See, that’s exactly what a final boss would say."

She pointed at him with one finger, still holding the cup. "I’m going to pour this on you."

"Nova already did something like that today. I’ve built up a tolerance."

Her mouth did something that was not quite a smile but was in the same neighborhood as one. She lowered her cup. Looked at the table for a second, then back at him, and something in her expression had shifted.

"I’ve never dated anyone," she said.

Lucas stopped.

He didn’t say anything, letting it land properly.

"The Silvercrest name carries a certain weight," she continued, her voice even but lower now, her eyes drifting slightly away from him. "Everything I do reflects on my family. On my house. On every person who came before me and every expectation attached to that." Her fingers rested against the cup without holding it.

"So I focused on what I was supposed to focus on. Strength. Discipline. Being someone no one could look down on." A small pause. "I didn’t have space for anything else. I didn’t make space for it."

Lucas looked at her for a moment.

The earlier jokes sat somewhere behind him, slightly misplaced now, and he let them stay there.

"I see," he said quietly.

Neither of them said anything for a second.

The cafeteria kept going around them. Cups clinking, someone laughing across the room, the soft institutional noise of a lot of people occupying the same space.

It was just the two of them at the table.

Lucas cleared his throat lightly.

"How’s the tournament prep going?" he asked, glancing at her. His tone was casual. Easy. "Training alone must be pretty rough."