Celeste still didn't know what felt worse—the piercing glares from the girls around her or the fact that Jase sat beside her like it was no big deal. Like it was completely normal.
Meanwhile, she could barely breathe.
The air in the room felt thick, like every look and whisper was pressing down on her chest. Her fingers clenched the hem of her blouse, trying to ground herself, to keep her face from burning any hotter.
Why was he doing this? Why sit next to her—of all people?
Taking a slow, shaky breath, she turned her head just enough so only he could hear her.
"Why are you sitting here?" she whispered, frustration and confusion tangled in her voice.
Jase didn't even look up. He just flipped a page in his book like nothing was happening—like half the class wasn't staring at them like they were the center of some unfolding drama.
"What do you mean?" he said, his tone calm, almost bored.
Celeste's hand tightened into a fist on her blazer. Her heart pounded.
"Everyone's looking at us," she muttered, voice tight.
Jase let out a quiet breath. "So?" he said, like it really didn't matter.
Celeste's brows drew together, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. She leaned in slightly, her voice sharp and low through clenched teeth.
"I don't want the attention."
She had spent years mastering the art of staying unnoticed—keeping her head down, moving through school like a shadow. She'd learned to tune out the whispers, to let the stares and comments roll off her back.
But this? This was different. This wasn't the usual quiet avoidance or side remarks from afar. This felt like being thrown into the center of a fire—heat prickling against her skin, judgment closing in from every direction, with no way out.
At that, Jase finally lifted his gaze, golden eyes meeting hers with a calm precision that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. But beneath that carefully unreadable expression, there was something else, something she couldn't quite place. "Then ignore them," he said, his tone as smooth and unbothered as ever. Celeste's lips parted slightly, incredulous. Ignore them? Was he serious? Of course, he could ignore them. He was a Luminary. Untouchable. Revered. He could sit wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, and no one would question it. People admired him, respected him, feared him. But she was just a Mortalis—a nobody, an outcast even among her own kind. She had spent her entire life being invisible, and now, because of him, she was placed in the spotlight.
Keeping her voice low, she muttered, "I don't need your protection." She expected him to brush her off, to roll his eyes, to maybe even move seats just to be rid of her, but instead, something flickered in his gaze—something sharp, almost amused—before his lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Who said I'm here to protect you?"
Celeste gasped.
A sudden rush of warmth filled her, rising to her cheeks before she could stop it. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it, but still—she couldn't look away.
His words lingered in the space between them, heavy with something she couldn't quite name. It made her stomach twist, and left her throat dry.
Then why are you here? she wanted to ask. But the words wouldn't come. Her mind was a mess, her thoughts scattered.
He knew, didn't he? She could see it in his eyes—the way he watched her stumble for composure, the way her silence said more than anything she could have managed.
Before she could say anything, the classroom door opened and the teacher walked in, cutting her off. The moment passed, but the tension lingered, thick and unspoken.
Jase leaned back, calm and unbothered, while Celeste sat stiffly, shoulders tight, doing her best to ignore the burning stares around her.
*****
Celeste had hoped to get through the day unnoticed—if she kept her head down, avoided Jase, and acted like everything was normal, maybe the pressure would fade.
But that hope vanished the moment she heard her name spoken in a voice that clearly wasn't Mortalis.
"Celeste."
Celeste froze at her locker, her grip tightening on the handle as a fresh wave of anxiety hit her. Slowly, she turned toward the voice—and there stood Amy, calm and poised, with a gentle smile that didn't quite match the buzz of curiosity filling the hallway.
A Luminary talking to a Mortalis wasn't something anyone expected. Not like this.
The change in the air was instant. Conversations stopped. Heads turned. Eyes locked onto them with open interest. Some students exchanged glances, clearly confused by what they were seeing. Others just stared, their faces a mix of shock and curiosity.
Celeste swallowed hard, her skin prickling under the weight of so many eyes. Her heart sped up as whispers grew louder around her, students leaning in to talk, to guess, to gossip.
Still, despite the pressure and the uneasy twist in her stomach, there was something steady—almost gentle—about Amy's presence.
She wasn't looking at Celeste like the others did. Not like Lucas, who smirked, or Jase, whose gaze felt too intense.
Amy's eyes were calm, curious in a quieter way, like she wasn't here to judge—but to understand something she hadn't figured out yet herself.
Celeste hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Amy didn't say anything right away. She just motioned for Celeste to follow her, leading them to a quieter spot, away from all the watching eyes.
Then she spoke. "I wanted to ask you something."
Celeste frowned. "What is it?"
Amy studied her for a moment, her gaze sharp yet unreadable, as if searching for something beneath the surface. "Do you feel… different after last night?"
Celeste blinked, thrown off by the question. Different? Did she? She had spent the night restless, her mind tangled in memories of the alleyway, of Jase, of the way her body had reacted to his presence in ways she didn't understand. Her heart had refused to settle, her thoughts a whirlwind of questions she had no answers for. But different? She wasn't sure. "…What?" she finally asked, confusion lacing her voice.
Amy sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. There was something in the way she did it, something almost hesitant, as if she was preparing herself for whatever came next. "I didn't see it."
Celeste's stomach twisted. "…Didn't see what?"
Amy's expression shifted, growing more serious, her usual air of quiet confidence dimmed by something far more uncertain. "Jase using his power."
A sharp chill ran through Celeste's spine.
Amy continued, her voice steady but laced with an edge that hadn't been there before. "I see things before they happen. It's always been that way. But last night—I didn't see anything."
Celeste's fingers tightened around her bag strap, a creeping unease settling in her chest. "What does that mean?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
Amy shook her head, and for the first time, there was a flicker of genuine uncertainty in her gaze. "That's the problem. I don't know."
The silence that followed was thick, heavy, stretching between them as Celeste tried to make sense of what she had just heard. So Amy had the power of foresight and she saw things before they happened. Her Luminary power was foreseeing, preparing, always staying ahead.
Celeste swallowed hard, a strange, twisting feeling coiling in her stomach.
Then, after a long pause, Amy smiled again, though this time, there was something different about it—an uncertainty that hadn't been there before. "Just be careful, okay?"
Celeste could only nod, though her mind was already spiraling.
Why hadn't Amy seen what happened?
And more importantly—what did that mean for her?
*****
Meanwhile, Lucas wasn't letting things go so easily. He stood near the lockers, arms crossed over his chest, his usual smirk replaced by something more calculating, more concerned. His gaze never left Jase, watching him with the scrutiny of someone who knew exactly what buttons to push. "You're really pushing it," he muttered, his voice low enough that only Jase could hear over the chatter of passing students. Jase, as expected, looked unfazed, shoving his hands into his pockets with an air of practiced indifference. "Pushing what?" he replied coolly, as if he didn't already know what Lucas was about to say.
Lucas scoffed, pushing off the lockers and stepping closer, lowering his voice even further. "Oh, I don't know—maybe the part where you're making it painfully obvious you care about a Mortalis?" His words were sharp, deliberate, each syllable laced with unspoken warning. Jase didn't flinch, didn't even blink. His expression remained smooth, unbothered. "I sat next to her. That's not a crime." But Lucas wasn't buying it, and Jase knew it.
Lucas gave him a pointed look, his head tilting slightly as if daring Jase to keep playing this game. "You didn't just sit next to her," he said, his tone edged with something firmer now. "You saved her. You used your power for her. And now you're walking around like it's nothing—like it doesn't mean anything." Jase exhaled sharply. "I'm not acting like anything." His voice was steady, but there was a tightness to it, a slight edge that betrayed him. Lucas caught it instantly, his gaze narrowing.
"You're not being smart about this, Jase," Lucas warned, his usual teasing demeanor giving way to something more serious. He ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing as if he was tired of being the only one acknowledging what was happening. "You know what the law says. And even if you ignore that, think about what this means. She's different. You feel it too, don't you?" The moment the words left his mouth, Jase's jaw tightened, his gaze darkening just enough for Lucas to know he had struck a nerve. That was all the confirmation he needed.
Lucas straightened, crossing his arms again, but this time, his smirk was gone. "That's exactly the problem." His voice was quieter now, more weighted, as if he was giving Jase one last chance to admit what they both already knew. But Jase didn't respond. He didn't argue, didn't deny it. He just stood there, silent, and Lucas knew that silence meant everything.
Before Jase could say anything, before Lucas could push him further, a sudden commotion erupted from the other end of the hallway. Raised voices. Shouting.
And then, unmistakably—
Celeste's name immediately came into his mind. Jase didn't think. He moved.
*****
Celeste barely had time to react before a group of girls stepped into her path, their movements smooth and deliberate, like a trap closing in.
She knew them right away—girls who had never noticed her before, always off to the side, whispering and laughing about things that didn't involve her.
But now, their eyes were hard, filled with something sharp and bitter.
Resentment.
The kind that came when someone felt their place was being threatened, when the rules they'd always known were suddenly being shaken.
The tall blonde at the front crossed her arms, lifting her chin with the kind of confidence that came from thinking she was better than everyone else.
"You think you're special now, huh?" she said, her voice full of contempt.
Celeste frowned, her pulse quickening as she tried to make sense of the sudden hostility. "What?"
One of the other girls scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Don't act clueless. You think just because Jase is paying attention to you, it means you're better than us?"
And there it was.
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, the realization hitting her all at once. This wasn't about her. It had never been about her. This was about Jase. About the fact that, for some reason, he had broken an unspoken rule—he had noticed her. And that alone was enough to make her a target.
The blonde stepped closer, her voice lowering into something quieter, but far more dangerous. "Stay away from him. Luminaries and Mortalis don't mix. Everyone knows that."
Celeste inhaled sharply, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral even as frustration bubbled beneath the surface. She had done nothing wrong. She hadn't asked for Jase's attention, hadn't sought him out, hadn't done anything to warrant this kind of confrontation. Choosing her words carefully, she replied, "I never asked for his attention."
The blonde let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Doesn't matter. If you make things difficult, we'll make your life hell."
Celeste clenched her fists at her sides. This is ridiculous. She had spent her entire life being ignored, treated like she didn't exist—and now, just because Jase had sat next to her, just because he had spoken to her, suddenly she was being singled out? It was infuriating. And yet, before she could formulate a response, the atmosphere around them shifted.
The hallway fell silent.
A familiar presence loomed behind her, steady and unshaken.
The girls froze, their confidence faltering for a moment like a candle flickering in the wind. Celeste felt it before she turned—an energy that filled the air, heavy and impossible to ignore.
Her heart pounded as she slowly turned around.
Jase stood there.
He looked calm, hands still in his pockets, posture easy—but there was something in his eyes. The way his cold gaze caught the light, sharp and quiet like a storm waiting to break, sent a chill through the air. He didn't say a word, didn't have to. Just being there was enough.
The group of girls shifted uncomfortably, their confidence cracking at the edges.
The blonde's voice faltered, her shoulders stiffening. "J-Jase—"
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a cold edge to it.
"Didn't know you owned this hallway."
The girl swallowed hard. "We were just—"
Jase stepped forward, just enough that the space between them felt smaller, more suffocating. His gaze didn't waver, didn't soften. "You were just… what?"
Silence.
The girls exchanged uncertain glances, their previous confidence crumbling under the weight of Jase's presence. One by one, they backed away, their postures stiff, their mouths pressed into thin lines. And just like that, the confrontation was over.
As the girls walked away, their footsteps fading down the hall, Celeste finally let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.
Relief washed over her—but only for a second.
It was quickly replaced by something else.
Annoyance.
She turned to Jase, her chest still tight, her words coming out sharper than she meant.
"Why do you keep interfering?"
It wasn't gratitude. It wasn't thanks. It was everything she'd been holding back—confusion, frustration, and the unbearable feeling of being seen too clearly.
Jase arched a brow, clearly unfazed. "You looked like you needed help."
Celeste shook her head, anger and embarrassment warring inside her. "I can handle myself."
Something flickered in Jase's gaze—something amused, something sharp—and then, to her utter annoyance, his lips curved into the faintest smirk. His voice dropped just slightly, a quiet hum beneath the noise of the hallway. "Clearly."
Celeste gritted her teeth, heat rushing to her face as frustration bubbled dangerously close to the surface. "Jase—"
Before she could finish, he leaned in slightly, close enough that his breath ghosted against her ear, close enough that the scent of him—cool and crisp, like rain against warm stone—filled her senses.
"Too bad," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "I already have."
Her breath caught.
And then, just like that, he pulled away. He didn't wait for her to answer, didn't give her a chance to find the words still tangled on her tongue. Without a word, he turned and walked away, his steps as relaxed as ever—like he hadn't just knocked the air out of her with a single moment.
And there she was, still standing in place, heart pounding, thoughts spinning, trying to make sense of a conversation that had already ended.
Celeste stood frozen, fists clenched at her sides, heat still lingering on her skin. She hated him. She hated the way he got under her skin. And worst of all… she hated the way her heart didn't slow down.