The cafeteria felt different after classes.

  Most students were already outside — some at the training field, others heading toward the dormitories. Cronos House wasn’t large to begin with. It never was. Transfers were rare, and permanent students even rarer.

  By the time the sky darkened into indigo, only a few lights remained on inside.

  Risu sat across from Taren, Tenshi, Haruka, and Kaga at one of the long tables near the windows. Outside, the last trace of sunlight clung to the horizon.

  Kaga laughed too easily around Taren. Taren was mid-performance.

  “I’m telling you,” he said, one hand dramatically over his chest as he stood up, “it was a calculated maneuver!”

  “You tripped over a chair,” Tenshi replied without looking up from his book.

  Haruka sighed, but a faint smile decorated her face.

  Kaga laughed — easy, unrestrained.

  Risu surprised herself by laughing too.

  Not polite.

  Not guarded.

  Real.

  Taren glanced at her.

  “I didn’t expect you to side with them.”

  “I’m not,” she said smoothly. “I just enjoy watching you lose dignity.”

  “That hurts.”

  Kaga leaned slightly toward him.

  “You’ve been like this since last year.”

  Since last year.

  Risu noticed it instantly.

  Shared time. Shared space. Shared history.

  She was new here — her first year at Arcane Academy, even if she was second-year like the rest of them.

  They already belonged to a group.

  She had just arrived.

  Tenshi closed his book.

  “So? Did you survive the sacred burger place?”

  Taren straightened dramatically.

  “That place is culturally significant.”

  Risu tilted her head.

  “Do you always go there with…?” she said, while her drifted towards Kaga.

  “With whoever wants… And can pay for their own food,” he answered lightly. “I don’t have a lot of money.”

  Kaga laughed again.

  That subtle closeness, the ease between them, pressed faintly against Risu’s chest.

  Not jealousy.

  Just the quiet awareness of being the newest variable in an old equation.

  She took a breath.

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  “Have any of you heard of something called New Order?”

  The air shifted.

  Not dramatically.

  But it shifted.

  It was a name whispered across Neo Olympia, but it carried some weight with it.

  Tenshi was the first to answer.

  “You mean the legend? The underground group?”

  Haruka leaned back.

  “People claim they’ve been operating for years. No proof. No arrests. And lately they claimed it vanished into thin air.”

  Taren smirked slightly.

  “Let me guess. Secret gatherings. Shadow politics. Maybe even black cloaks and dramatic monologues.”

  Kaga frowned faintly.

  “I’ve heard adults talk about it. Like it’s dangerous.”

  “People say a lot of things,” Taren replied smoothly. “They also say the headmaster is some kind of god watching over everything.”

  Tenshi nodded.

  “Legend, myth, just rumors.”

  Too smooth. Too aligned.

  Risu studied them carefully.

  No visible tension. No fear.

  Just casual dismissal.

  And that bothered her more than denial would have.

  “Right,” she said quietly.

  She stood.

  “I need some air.”

  She didn’t wait for a response.

  As she walked away, Taren watched her.

  For a second, he almost stood.

  Almost called her name.

  But he didn’t.

  Because if she was searching for New Order…

  The safest place for her was away from them.

  He remained seated.

  Ryuu had heard enough from the hallway.

  Not the full conversation. Just fragments.

  New Order.

  The name wasn’t new to him.

  But the way she asked, and the way they answered.

  That was different.

  He stepped forward when Taren exited a few minutes later.

  Ryuu stood nearly a head taller than him — broad-shouldered, posture straight, presence heavy without effort. At seventeen, he had grown into his height. Taren, at sixteen, stood slightly above average, but beside Ryuu, the difference was clear.

  “Your classmate seems interested in dangerous folklore,” Ryuu said evenly. “Interesting questions she asked.”

  Taren didn’t look surprised.

  “Curiosity isn’t a crime.”

  “That didn’t sound like curiosity.”

  Their eyes met.

  “Not everything that sounds important actually is,” Taren replied.

  Ryuu’s shadow stretched long in the dim corridor light.

  “That depends,” he said calmly, “on who’s asking, and who’s answering.”

  No magic. No threats.

  By the time Risu reached the top floor, night had fully settled.

  The windows reflected darkness now. The academy grounds below were lit only by scattered lampposts.

  That’s when she heard it.

  Music. Soft. Instrumental. But unfinished.

  She followed the sound.

  The music room door was slightly open.

  Inside, a boy sat at the piano.

  He didn’t look up when she appeared in the doorway.

  He kept playing.

  The melody shifted subtly as she stepped closer, the air vibrating faintly — not visibly, but perceptibly — like sound carried weight here.

  Only when the piece reached its final suspended note, he stopped and close the score book.

  Silence lingered.

  Then he spoke.

  “You can close the door.”

  She did.

  He finally turned.

  His eyes were observant — sharp without being harsh.

  “You look like someone who asked a question and didn’t like the answer.”

  “Do everyone always profile people like that?”

  “I only do when they interrupt my rehearsal.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “You didn’t stop playing. And listening to music isn’t a crime.”

  “I don’t stop until the song finishes.”

  Risu noticed the notebook that rested on the piano.

  Broken Melody.

  “That yours?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately.”

  “It sounds incomplete.”

  “It is.”

  No embarrassment.

  Just truth.

  She hesitated.

  The words slipped out before she could filter them.

  “I’m investigating something.”

  His gaze sharpened slightly.

  “Something? It’s just rare for someone to climb all the way up here at this time.”

  She held his eyes.

  “New Order.”

  Silence.

  Not shock.

  Recognition.

  “And what would you do,” he asked carefully, “if you discovered they were real?”

  “That depends on what I find out.”

  A pause.

  “And you?” she asked. “What would you do?”

  His fingers brushed lightly against the keys.

  “I’d want to know more about them.”

  That wasn’t denial.

  “I’m not asking because I’m curious,” Risu said. “I’m investigating them.”

  Now there was calculation in his expression.

  “Then you’ll need better questions.”

  She stepped closer.

  “Then help me.”

  His gaze didn’t waver.

  “If you’re going to investigate,” he said softly, “you should ask other, better questions.”

  “Or the right people,” she replied, echoing him.

  A faint smile touched his expression.

  “Fair.”

  Outside the door, Deneb stood still in the darkened hallway.

  She had heard enough.

  Not again. She thought.

  But there was something different in Vega’s tone.

  Not longing.

  Not recklessness.

  Hope.

  And that unsettled her more.

  Down in the courtyard, Ryuu looked up at the academy building.

  A lit window on the top floor.

  Two silhouettes.

  Vega and Risu.

  He couldn’t hear anything from this distance.

  But he didn’t need to.

  Something had begun.

  And whether it would end quietly or violently…

  Remained to be seen.

  Inside, Vega reopened the piano lid.

  The first notes of Broken Melody returned.

  Slightly altered.

  Risu didn’t leave.

  This time, she wasn’t intruding.

  She was listening.

  And something unfinished had just found its next movement.