He clenched his jaw for what felt like the thousandth time that day and honestly, if someone had been keeping count, they would probably be concerned.

He had come all the way to the academy for one thing—one very specific, very important thing—and somehow still managed to miss it.

Varek Duran was gone.

Again.

The office still carried that faint "important old man who disappears at the worst possible time" atmosphere, which only made his mood worsen.

For a brief, dangerously tempting moment, he considered destroying the entire room just to vent out his anger.

The desk looked breakable.

The shelves looked flammable.

The entire room practically invited violence.

Unfortunately, the trembling assistant in the corner ruined the mood.

The poor man looked like he was one harsh word away from collapsing— or worse— embarrassing himself permanently on academy property.

He exhaled slowly.

No.

Not worth it.

Yet.

"When you see him," he said, his voice calm in the way that made it significantly more threatening, "make sure to tell him that I was here..."

He paused just long enough for the silence to stretch.

"...and if he tries to disappear one more time," he continued, eyes darkening slightly, "I’ll permanently make him disappear."

The assistant stopped breathing.

"Forever," he added, almost casually.

A beat.

"If he desperately wants that."

The assistant nodded so fast it was a miracle his head didn’t detach from his body. "Y-Yes sir! I-I will definitely tell him!"

At least someone in this building understood survival instincts.

Without another word, he turned and left, his already foul mood sinking several levels deeper.

’My energy stone is already nearing its limit,’ he thought grimly.

That alone was enough to make his patience thinner than usual.

’If that old man doesn’t call me back...’

A pause.

’...I’ll pay him a visit myself.’

And knowing him, that "visit" would not involve tea and small talk.

He walked without direction, lost in irritation, and mildly violent thoughts to pay attention to where his feet were taking him.

The academy grounds stretched wide, pathways twisting in ways that seemed intentionally designed to confuse anyone with a short temper and no patience.

Which, unfortunately, described him perfectly.

By the time he finally slowed down, it wasn’t because he had calmed down, it was because he had no idea where he was.

Again.

He looked around but only saw a pond nearby and lots of trees.

He sighed, long and irritated.

"...Unbelievable."

He got lost.

Again.

He pulled out his OmniSync and tapped it with more force than necessary, the call connecting almost instantly.

"Boss, where the hell did you go again?" Remington’s voice blasted through, loud enough to make him consider ending the call immediately.

A second voice followed, far calmer, and somehow more judgmental because of it.

"We clearly told you to just follow us," Colt added. "And now we have no choice but to look for you again."

He stared at the device for a second.

"Are you two scolding me?" he asked flatly. "Your boss?"

There was a pause.

"No, we were just reminding you," they both replied in unison.

...Bold.

Very bold.

He resisted the urge to end the call right there.

"Just look for places that has a pond in it," he said instead, keeping it short before his patience ran out entirely.

"Copy," Colt responded immediately.

"Please don’t move an inch, boss. Just sit still and wait for us—" Remington started.

"One more word," he cut in coldly, "and I’ll feed you to Santano."

The line went dead immediately.

He lowered his hand with a quiet exhale, running a hand through his hair before glancing around again, clearly unimpressed by the scenery.

"...Ridiculous."

The word left his lips like an accusation.

Whoever designed this part of the academy clearly had too much time and not enough problems.

He was about to move when he heard a faint rustling sound near him.

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

In one smooth motion, he crouched low and slipped behind the nearest tree, all traces of irritation replaced by sharp focus. His senses sharpened, scanning for threats, for intent, for anything out of place.

His gaze locked onto the source then froze because near a gazebo, under the soft glow of fairy lights was a woman... dancing?

"...Did I walk into the wrong place?" he muttered under his breath, his tone flattening.

He glanced around but he saw no guards rushing in, no panicked staffs, and no signs that this was, in fact, a highly questionable section of a mental institution.

His eyes returned to her despite himself.

She was completely alone and for a moment, he frowned because what he was witnessing looked... wrong.

Her movements were awkward. Not clumsy exactly, but hesitant, like someone remembering steps they weren’t entirely confident in. There was an odd rhythm to it, something slightly off that made him tilt his head just a fraction.

"...Is she serious?" he murmured quietly.

His eyes drifted to her face. She’s pretty but—

"...a little cuckoo," he concluded, already halfway deciding this was none of his business.

He had better things to do.

Like not getting lost again.

He shifted slightly, already preparing to leave—mentally mapping out a very questionable route back—when something, faint and irritatingly persistent, told him to look again.

So he did and for a moment, he forgot to move.

The woman from earlier—the one he had mentally labeled as strange and possibly unwell—was gone.

The woman before him now moved like she had never hesitated a day in her life. Each step flowed into the next with precision, her body following a rhythm that didn’t need music to exist.

The moonlight above cast a soft glow over her, turning the clearing into something almost unreal, like the world had paused just to watch her move.

Even her dress followed her perfectly, the fabric catching the light with every turn, trailing behind her softly.

The scene was just... perfect.

He found himself staring longer than intended.

’A fairy—’

No.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if correcting himself.

’More like a goddess.’

"...What the hell," he muttered under his breath, not even realizing he said it out loud.

For once, he wasn’t irritated nor he wasn’t thinking about anything else.

"Boss, why are you sneaking around and watching a poor girl like some kind of pervert?"

The moment was brutally shattered in an instant.

He didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

"And can you at least have some dignity?" Remington added, sounding personally offended on behalf of society. "It’s embarrassing, considering you’re the boss of—"

He turned his head slowly, very slowly, and glared.

The kind of glare that had ended arguments, careers, and occasionally people’s confidence.

The two men stood there like they had always been there, completely unbothered, and completely uninvited.

"...Since when did you two arrive?" he asked flatly.

"Since we decided to let you enjoy watching her dance," Colt replied calmly, as if this was a perfectly normal situation.

"...Before we drag you back," Remington added helpfully, crossing his arms like he had just made an excellent point.

His eye twitched. "...I wasn’t watching."

They both looked at him then slowly, deliberately, looked past him, at the dancing woman, then back at him.

"...Right," Remington nodded at him although his eyes were saying something.

Colt, ever the diplomatic one, simply nodded. "Of course, boss."

Which somehow sounded even more like a lie.

He exhaled sharply, already regretting every decision that led him to this exact moment. "...We’re leaving."

"Finally," Remington muttered.

His gaze flickered back one more, just for a second to see that she had stopped spinning and now she was... talking.

To herself.

He couldn’t hear the words, but he could see the way her lips moved, the small expressions shifting across her face like she was having a full conversation with someone who didn’t exist.

"..."

He stared for a second, speechless.

"...Yeah," Remington muttered beside him, following his line of sight. "She’s definitely a little—"

"Don’t," he cut in flatly.

Remington immediately shut his mouth.

His eyes remained on her for a moment longer, something unreadable settling behind his gaze.

’Crazy.’

That was the logical conclusion.

A woman dancing alone in the middle of the night, talking to herself like the world didn’t exist is completely insane and yet the corner of his lips lifted, like his expression had betrayed him for half a second before he could stop it.

"...Tch."

He clicked his tongue, irritation snapping back into place as he turned away sharply, as if annoyed—not at her—but at himself.

"...Let’s go."

This time, he didn’t look back.

He walked past them, hands in his pockets—posture as composed as ever—but the faint trace of that almost-smile lingered longer than it should have.

Behind him, Colt glanced once toward the gazebo, then back at his boss, a subtle knowing look crossing his face.

Remington, on the other hand, leaned closer and whispered, "Boss just smiled, didn’t he?"

Colt didn’t need to answer. For someone like Boss, that was extremely rare. That "crazy" woman had just done something no one else had managed to do in a very long time.

She made him smile.

"Should we tell boss that he’s walking in the wrong direction again?" Remington whispered again, watching their leader confidently head toward what was very clearly not the exit.