Chapter 14
The next morning feels almost suspiciously peaceful, which is exactly why Emilia doesn't trust it. She walks into Seiryo Academy expecting something—a shift in the atmosphere, a stray comment, a subtle ripple through the student body. Instead, she finds absolutely nothing. Normal chatter echoes down the corridors, normal footsteps scuffle against the polished floors, and the usual morning chaos fills the halls. She almost frowns. To her, peace is unsettling.
When she enters the classroom, Ren's seat is entirely empty. She notices his absence immediately, though she quickly forces herself to look away, silently telling herself it doesn't matter. People are late sometimes.
She takes her seat, pulls open her notebook, and writes the date carefully at the top of the page. Still, there is no sign of him. Her pen presses slightly harder against the paper than necessary, the black ink bleeding a fraction too deep.
Yui leans over from her desk, her eyes sharp. "You're staring at his desk."
"I am not," Emilia replies smoothly, keeping her expression perfectly level.
"You are."
"I'm observing an empty space."
Yui lets out a quiet scoff. "That's worse."
Emilia exhales slowly, the tension finally cracking her composure just enough to slip into her native tongue. "Il est en retard." [He's late.]
"Yes," Yui says dryly, turning back to her own work. "That is how time works."
Emilia ignores the remark, but her pulse has shifted slightly. Ren is rarely late—not never, but rarely. And after last night, after the quiet walk and the fragile understanding that had formed between them, his absence feels infinitely louder than it should.
Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. The teacher begins the lesson without him, and Emilia's chest tightens. Why hasn't he messaged? Why hasn't he—Stop.
She forces her gaze down, staring intensely at her notes. Focus. Control. Patience. Isn't that exactly what she told him she liked?
He finally arrives twenty-three minutes late. His breath is steady, but his hair is slightly disordered and his school tie hangs a fraction crooked. Emilia's heart jumps before she can mentally step in to stop it. He pauses at the doorway, offers a quiet, polite apology to the teacher, and moves down the aisle to take his seat. He doesn't look at her immediately, and that deliberate distance irritates her more than the lateness itself.
She waits. Three seconds. Five.
Finally, he glances sideways, and their eyes meet. He nods once—a small, subtle gesture, as if absolutely nothing is wrong.
She narrows her eyes slightly. Nothing is wrong?
The moment the bell rings for break, she turns fully toward him. "Tu es en retard." [You're late.]
"Yes," he replies quietly.
"That's unusual."
"Yes."
"Pourquoi ?" [Why?]
He hesitates for a fraction of a second. She notices the pause immediately.
"You hesitated," she points out, leaning forward slightly.
"I was choosing words."
She crosses her arms lightly over her blazer. "That's my line."
A faint smile touches his lips—that subtle, quiet humor she has come to recognize. "Traffic."
She blinks, unimpressed. "You don't drive."
"True."
"Alors ?" [Then?]
He exhales lightly, his posture dropping just a bit. "Mina didn't want to go to school."
That stops her entirely. The lingering spark of irritation dissolves instantly, replaced by a sudden wave of concern. "She's okay?"
"Yes."
"She cried?"
"A little."
Emilia's shoulders soften without her permission, the rigid posture she usually maintains in the classroom melting away. "She does that."
"Yes."
"You stayed?"
He looks at her directly. "Yes."
A quiet silence settles between their desks. Emilia looks down at his sleeve, noticing the slight wrinkles in the fabric. He really had stayed behind just to comfort her.
Ren notices the sudden shift in her demeanor. "You thought something else," he says softly, his voice dropping so the surrounding students won't hear.
"I didn't."
"You did."
She exhales softly, looking away. "...Peut-être." [Maybe.]
He lets out a sound that is almost a laugh. "That's not very stable of you."
She glares faintly, though there is no real heat behind it. "Tu es agaçant." [You're annoying.]
"You've said that."
"It's still true."
The corner of his mouth lifts again. There is the humor she knows—light, gentle, and deeply familiar. But as she studies him, she realizes something else lingers beneath the surface. He looks incredibly tired, noticeably more so than he did yesterday.
"You didn't sleep," she says softly, her tone shifting from playful to quiet observation.
"Not much."
"Pourquoi ?"
He hesitates again, and this time, the silence stretches longer. She watches him carefully, tracking the slight shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. "You're thinking too much again."
"Yes."
"À cause de quoi ?" [Because of what?]
He meets her eyes fully, his gaze intense and unwavering. "You."
Her breath stumbles in her throat. She swallows hard, trying to maintain her footing. "You're repeating yourself."
"Still true."
She is the one to look away first this time, her cheeks feeling significantly warmer than she ever expected them to be in a crowded classroom. "Tu es imprudent." [You're reckless.]
"How?"
"You say things plainly."
"I thought you preferred that."
Silence follows his words. She does prefer it, and that is the exact problem.
Later, during the next class period, she notices something else. He isn't as entirely calm as he usually appears. His fingers tap a restless, quiet rhythm against his pen, and his gaze drifts toward the window occasionally. It is subtle, a movement only someone watching closely would catch, but she sees it.
"You're distracted," she murmurs under her breath, keeping her eyes fixed on the blackboard.
"Yes."
"Pourquoi ?"
He doesn't answer immediately. The teacher's voice drones on in the background before Ren finally lowers his voice to a faint whisper. "Because I don't know how to stop waiting."
The admission hits her harder than expected. She blinks, turning her head slightly. "What?"
"You said not to make you wait," he says, his voice thick with a quiet intensity.
"Yes."
"I'm not sure what that means anymore."
Her chest tightens slightly, a sudden knot of anxiety forming because, in truth, she isn't entirely sure either. "I don't mean now," she says quickly, a defensive reflex.
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because I don't want to misstep."
Another heavy silence returns between them. Emilia stares at him as the realization settles in. He's overthinking everything because of her, because of the warnings she gave him, and because she told him not to hesitate too long. Now, he is entirely consumed by the fear of moving too soon.
That realization softens something profound deep inside her. The defensive barriers she always keeps raised feel suddenly unnecessary.
She leans slightly closer toward his desk. "Tu réfléchis trop." [You think too much.]
"Yes."
She sighs faintly, a tiny, helpless sound. Then, for the very first time inside the walls of the academy, she reaches out and bumps her shoulder lightly against his—a deliberate, quiet reassurance. It is entirely intentional, and not accidental at all.
He stills at the sudden contact, his body freezing slightly beneath his uniform blazer. "That wasn't an accident," he says quietly, his voice pitched low enough that it barely carries across the space between their desks.
"No," Emilia replies simply.
A heavy, charged silence stretches between them. The physical contact lingers for half a second longer than strictly necessary, a tiny pocket of warmth before she finally leans back into her own space.
"Ne fais pas semblant de ne pas comprendre." [Don't pretend not to understand.]
Ren freezes internally at the words. That line—it feels careful, almost dangerous. She has no idea just how close that phrase came to striking the absolute truth.
He meets her gaze carefully, keeping his expression entirely guarded. "I'm not pretending."
Emilia studies him, her sharp eyes scanning his features. There is something strange in his tone, something deeply layered that she can't quite grasp, but she feels the weight of it nonetheless.
Before the silence can deepen, Kaito suddenly leans over from the desk behind them. "You two look like you're negotiating a peace treaty."
Emilia blinks, her intense focus breaking instantly as she snaps back into reality. "We are not."
Ren exhales faintly, the rigid tension in his shoulders dropping just a fraction. "We are not."
Kaito squints at them suspiciously, switching his gaze between the two. "That's exactly what people negotiating a peace treaty say."
Emilia rolls her eyes, completely unimpressed by his antics. "Va-t'en." [Go away.]
Kaito pauses, blinking in confusion. "...I feel insulted, but I don't know why."
Ren almost laughs—almost. The heavy atmosphere in the room eases slightly, the familiar humor restoring a sense of balance between them.
Later, as the long school day finally winds down, Emilia finds herself watching Ren again. She isn't doing it critically or defensively this time; she is just quietly observing him. He looks incredibly tired, but he seems steadier now than he did during the first period.
Leaning closer to his desk while the rest of the class packing up, she speaks quietly. "Tu ne dois pas tout porter." [You don't have to carry everything.]
He looks up at her, the sudden remark clearly catching him off guard. "I'm not."
"You are."
He considers arguing the point, his lips parting slightly, but he ultimately chooses not to. Instead, he looks at her directly. "Do you want me to stop waiting?" he asks quietly.
The question lands entirely differently this time. It doesn't feel like pressure or a challenge; it is just a plea for simple clarity.
She considers it carefully, letting the noise of the classroom fade into the background before she answers. "No."
"Then what?"
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, then says softly, "Reste." [Stay.]
Ren studies her face carefully, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. "I am."
She nods faintly, satisfied with the answer. It isn't because she wants to control him, but simply because he chose to stay on his own accord.
Carrying
It starts with a cough. It isn't dramatic or alarming, just a small, persistent sound echoing faintly through the quiet hallway. Emilia notices it immediately, mostly because Ren doesn't—or rather, he actively pretends not to notice it.
They are seated right beside each other during the afternoon study period when his phone buzzes against the wood. He glances down briefly, and his expression shifts only slightly. Most people in the room wouldn't notice the microscopic change, but Emilia does.
"C'est Mina ?" [Is it Mina?]
He looks up from the screen. "Yes."
"She's coughing again?"
He blinks in surprise. "How did you—"
"You look worried."
He exhales lightly, sliding the phone away. "She's fine."
"That wasn't my question."
A faint flicker of amusement touches his expression at her persistence. "Just a cold."
She narrows her eyes slightly, not entirely believing him. "Tu tu as dit ça hier." [You said that yesterday.]
"Yes."
"And today."
"Yes."
"Tu es fatigué." [You're tired.]
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He almost smiles at her stubbornness. "You're repeating yourself."
"So are you."
There is that humor again—light, familiar, and comfortable. But beneath the playful banter, she can clearly see the dark shadows lingering under his eyes.
Later that afternoon, Kaito leans over from behind them once more. "You look like a tragic novel character, Ren."
Ren sighs faintly, not even turning around. "That's dramatic."
"It's accurate."
Emilia glances at him, taking Kaito's side for once. "He does look like he hasn't slept."
Ren looks between the two of them, raising an eyebrow. "I'm right here."
"Yes," Emilia says calmly, meeting his gaze. "And you look tired."
He shakes his head lightly, running a hand through his hair. "Mina didn't sleep well."
"And neither did you."
"She's five."
"And you're not."
A heavy silence falls between them. The logic lands perfectly, and he looks away briefly. That tiny flicker of surrender tells her absolutely everything she needs to know.
After school, Emilia finds herself walking beside him down the familiar path without ever consciously deciding to. The rhythm of their footsteps matches perfectly as they move through the thinning crowd of students.
"Tu devrais rentrer plus tôt." [You should go home earlier.]
"I will," Ren replies quietly, his hands slipped into his uniform pockets.
"Tu dis ça toujours." [You always say that.]
"Yes."
"And then you stay anyway."
He glances at her sideways, a faint spark of curiosity in his eyes. "You're keeping track?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitates, the noise of the street traffic filling the brief void between them. Then, she says plainly, "Parce que je te regarde." [Because I watch you.]
Ren goes entirely quiet at that. This admission isn't part of their usual playful teasing; it is completely, unvarnishedly honest. Emilia keeps her eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at him. She knows that if she catches his expression right now, she might actually regret being so transparent.
They finally reach the busy corner near the train station, and she comes to a stop. "So, is she home alone?"
"No," Ren answers, turning to face her. "My mom is there."
"Good."
"But she worries."
"And you worry about her worrying."
"Yes."
She studies the subtle exhaustion in his features carefully. "Tu ne dois pas tout porter." [You don't have to carry everything.]
He smiles faintly, the expression small and fleeting. "You've said that."
"Because it's true."
He doesn't argue this time. The lack of resistance is entirely new, and the quiet acceptance hangs comfortably between them as they part ways.
That night, Mina's cough worsens. Emilia doesn't know that yet, but as she sits alone in the quiet of her room, she senses something—a strange, persistent restlessness she can't quite shake.
She finds herself staring at her phone screen for much longer than usual. She almost types out a direct message to him, then stops, frozen by a mix of pride, restraint, and old habits. Instead, she opens a draft and types out a simple question: Comment va Mina ? [How is Mina?]
She stares at the text for five agonizing seconds before she finally presses send.
Immediate regret washes over her the moment the message delivers. It stings because she was the one to initiate the contact, because she openly showed concern, and because making the gesture makes her underlying feelings entirely real.
Suddenly, the three digital dots appear on the screen. Then they disappear. Then they reappear. Her heart does something entirely ridiculous in her chest while she waits.
Ren's reply finally flashes across the screen: Still coughing. Refuses medicine. Negotiating.
She exhales a soft breath, a small tension leaving her shoulders. Negotiating. Of course she is.
She types back quickly: Elle est forte. [She's strong.]
He replies almost instantly: Yes. Too strong.
A faint smile touches her lips in the dark room. She hovers her thumbs over the keyboard, hesitating before typing: Et toi ? [And you?]
There is a significantly longer pause this time. The silence stretching from his end of the line feels heavy.
Finally, a short message appears: I'm fine.
She stares at the screen, her brow furrowing. That isn't an actual answer.
She types back with sharp precision: Tu mens. [You're lying.]
The three dots appear yet again, hovering for a long moment before his true admission arrives: Maybe.
Her chest tightens slightly at the raw honesty of the word. She types much slower now, her tone shifting to something softer, gentler: Tu devrais dormir. [You should sleep.]
His final reply comes through a moment later: I will.
She stares down at the glowing screen for a long time after that. He won't. She knows him well enough by now to know that he absolutely won't.
The next morning, Mina doesn't go to school at all. Ren does, but only barely. His steps are noticeably slower as he navigates the crowded hallways, his usually precise posture is slightly slumped, and his voice carries a rough, gravelly edge when he speaks.
Emilia notices the change instantly the moment he walks through the classroom door. Leaning across the small gap separating their desks, she speaks in a low murmur. "Tu es malade." [You're sick.]
"I'm not," Ren replies, his voice lacking its usual sharp clarity.
"Yes, you are."
"It's nothing."
She narrows her eyes at him, entirely unconvinced by the stubborn front. "Tu es idiot." [You're an idiot.]
He lets out a sound that is almost a laugh, though it sounds strained. "That's harsh."
"It's accurate."
There is that familiar humor between them, but today, it feels much thinner, stripped of its usual vibrant energy.
During their first class period, his pen slips from his grip and drops onto the floor with a quiet click. He doesn't even seem to notice it. Emilia reaches down silently, retrieves the pen, and hands it back to him. When their fingers brush in the exchange, his skin feels alarmingly warmer than usual.
Her breath stills in her throat. "Tu as de la fièvre." [You have a fever.]
He blinks at her, his eyes slightly glassy. "I don't."
Driven by pure instinct, Emilia reaches her hand up toward his face—then stops herself dead halfway. Her fingers hover in the empty air just inches from his forehead. Ren notices the gesture, his gaze locking onto her hand, and she freezes entirely.
Internally, her mind screams at her to abort. The gesture is far too intimate, far too obvious for a crowded classroom.
She lowers her hand slowly, resting it back on her own desk. "You look warm," she says instead, trying to regain her usual composure.
"That's not how temperature works."
She glares faintly at his stubbornness. "You're impossible."
"You're dramatic."
A quiet silence settles between them again, but she can see the truth plainly. He is visibly struggling to focus. His answers to the teacher's questions are slower, and his shoulders seem to carry a much heavier weight than before.
During lunch, Hana frowns slightly as she studies his pale face. "You should go home, Ren."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
Emilia says absolutely nothing during the exchange. She doesn't need to; her silence speaks volumes. She already knows exactly what she is thinking, and if he doesn't choose to leave the academy early, she might just lose her patience entirely.
When the final bell rings after school, Ren stands up to leave and sways slightly on his feet. The movement is barely noticeable to anyone else, but she catches it. Of course she does.
"Ren," she calls out quietly.
He turns back toward her slowly. "Yes?"
"Rentre." [Go home.]
He hesitates, the pause lasting for just a fraction of a second as he looks into her eyes. Then, he gives a small, weary nod. "Okay."
That sudden surrender hits her unexpectedly. He didn't argue with her, and he didn't hesitate to question it. He just... listened to her.
As he turns and walks down the path toward the school gate, she stands by her desk and watches him for much longer than usual. A strange, unsettled hum vibrates deep in her chest. She knows this feeling isn't jealousy, and it isn't a sense of competition. This is fear—very small, but entirely real.
She exhales a soft, ragged breath into the empty classroom. "Tu ne dois pas tout porter..." [You don't have to carry everything...]
He is already too far away to hear it, but she says the words anyway.