The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time Jerry made his way to the music wing of the academy, the polished marble hallways lit with soft golden glows from floating sconces. Each step echoed faintly, as if the building itself was holding its breath.
He found the Music Room just as the system note had described. The door was cracked open. Music—soft, delicate violin notes—spilled out like silk threads.
He took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Lyra stood in the center of the practice room, bow poised in hand. The violin cradled against her shoulder gleamed under the spotlights. She looked… different. Not in the way she dressed—still sharp black slacks, cropped maroon jacket, and that impossible poise—but something about her presence was clearer now. More honest.
She lowered her bow when she saw him. "You came."
"You invited me."
"Doesn't mean most guys would've followed through."
Jerry gave a half-smile. "Guess I'm not most guys."
Lyra walked over to the chair and grabbed a water bottle, then gestured for him to sit on the padded bench across from her.
For a few minutes, they just… talked. About classes, the weirdness of orientation, and what it was like trying to reset your identity in a place where no one knew your past.
"I've always had expectations around me," she said. "Judges, parents, rivals. Here, I wanted… less noise. Just music and me."
"You're allowed to want that," Jerry said. "Hell, you deserve that."
She blinked, surprised. "You're… kind of sweet when you're not glitching like a nervous squirrel."
"I contain multitudes."
The air between them grew heavier. Her eyes lingered on him a second longer than before. And just as she leaned forward like she might close the gap, the door swung open.
And in stepped trouble.
She was tall. Voluptuous. Wearing a too-short black skirt, thigh-high stockings, and a crop top that did absolutely nothing to hide the ridiculous curves underneath. Her hair was jet-black, cascading over one shoulder in lazy waves, and her crimson eyes gleamed with dangerous delight.
"Oh," she purred, "did I interrupt something?"
Lyra straightened. "Vess. What are you doing here?"
Vess grinned. "I heard violin and moaning, had to check if this was a duet or a solo performance."
Jerry nearly choked.
Zen (whistling): "Bro. BRO. I don't know who this is, but she should be on your bed. Yesterday."
Ragnar (guttural growl): "Yes. Her aura radiates sin. You must tame her."
Alric (sputtering): "This isn't taming! This is pure distraction! Look at those thighs!"
Vess sauntered over, hips swaying like she knew she had her own gravitational pull. She looked Jerry up and down.
"You must be the boy Lyra's been trying not to think about all evening."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "He's not yours, Vess."
"Yet," Vess whispered.
Jerry cleared his throat. "Uh… I'm Jerry."
Vess leaned in close, her perfume making his head spin. "I know. I remember faces. Especially the ones that get adorably flustered."
He could feel the heat rising to his face.
Zen: "You're doomed. Sexily doomed."
Ragnar: "Claim her before she devours others."
Alric: "This is how harems start. Just saying."
Lyra crossed her arms, clearly trying to maintain composure.
"I'll leave you two to your weird flirt energy," she said. "I have to practice before someone files a complaint."
Jerry grinned. "Before I go… can I get your number?"
Lyra blinked. "Bold."
"Necessary."
She handed over her phone. "Here. Don't make me regret it."
He entered his number and saved hers: Lyra V. – 🎻
Vess practically shoved her phone into his hand next. "Me too. I want to know when you're thinking about me."
He glanced at the name after she typed it in herself: Vess 🔥💋
"I… really don't know what to say."
"Then don't," Vess said, brushing a finger under his chin. "Just dream of me."
With that, Jerry awkwardly slipped out of the music room and back into the quiet night air. He walked across the campus, still warm from the contact, still dazed by the evening's chaos.
Just as he reached the path toward the dorms, his phone buzzed.
1 New Message – Vess 🔥💋
Vess 🔥💋:
You looked cute when you were flustered.
Next time, I want to see how red you can get. 😘
Sweet dreams, Foster Boi 💦
Jerry stared at the screen.
Then up at the stars.
Then back at the message.
Zen: "You are so screwed."
Ragnar: "In the good way."
Alric: "We need to study protections. Magical and physical."
Jerry wasn't sure if he'd just leveled up… or signed up for emotional game-over.