The next morning, Kuoh Academy buzzed with its usual noise—chatter in the halls, shoes squeaking on polished floors, a mild hum of adolescent chaos.
Ren stood by the window of his classroom, sunlight catching the edge of his dark uniform. He smiled gently as a breeze tugged at his jet-black hair. A perfect picture of the quiet transfer student.
Except the rumors were already circling.
"Did you hear? He rejected the basketball club and the student council." "He's kind of… cool though? Like, that cold kind of cool." "My friend said she saw him talking to the teacher in fluent French. What the hell?"
Ren hummed softly, flipping open his notebook. Pages filled with diagrams and notes that didn't quite match high school curriculum. Physics formulas. Magic circles. Battle stances.
"Yo, Kurozai-kun!" a voice called cheerfully.
He turned with a pleasant smile.
Asia Argento. Clumsy, soft-spoken, but kind to everyone.
She nearly tripped over her own desk trying to reach him.
"Good morning!" she beamed. "You dropped your handkerchief yesterday."
"Oh, did I?" Ren took it, brushing her fingers by accident. "Thanks, Asia. You're always looking out for people."
She blushed faintly. "N-No! I mean… it's the right thing to do!"
He chuckled. "Still. I appreciate it."
From across the room, Akeno Himejima watched. Her usual teasing smirk faltered slightly. That boy… He speaks like a gentleman, but there's no hesitation. No nervousness. No… innocence.
Her crimson eyes narrowed.
Too controlled.
At lunch, Ren wandered to the rooftop. A perfect view. Quiet. Calm. Just the way he liked it.
Until someone sat beside him without a word.
Rias Gremory.
She didn't speak at first, only looked at the half-eaten bento in his lap.
"You cook?" she asked.
"Sometimes. Helps me think."
"About what?"
He paused, chopsticks hovering over a rice ball.
"…How to win," he said with a warm smile.
She tilted her head. "Win what?"
Ren met her gaze—charming, calm, and far too composed.
"Everything."
Back in the clubroom, Kiba closed a file.
"He didn't show any magical output even when that rogue Fallen approached last night," he said. "But her retreat was immediate. She looked… terrified."
"Not fear," Akeno corrected. "Something deeper. Like revulsion."
Rias nodded slowly. "And yet, here he is—smiling, eating lunch, being polite to everyone."
"Too polite," Koneko muttered. "Like a mask."
A soft silence settled in the room.
Akeno twirled a pen in her fingers. "So… how do you approach a boy you can't sense?"
Rias tapped her fingers against the table.
"You don't," she murmured. "You let him approach you."