Chapter 8 – An Unspoken Familiarity
Chad froze.
The question lingered between them—simple… yet suffocating.
"…what aren't you forgetting?"
His thoughts spiraled.
Too fast.
Too scattered.
Nothing to hold onto.
"W-what do you mean?" he managed, his voice betraying him slightly.
She didn't answer.
Instead—
She stepped closer.
Too close.
Chad instinctively leaned back, but she followed, closing the gap with ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her face was now inches from his.
Her eyes locked onto his—sharp, searching… invasive.
For a moment, everything else faded.
And then—
Heat rushed to his face.
He blinked, caught off guard by his own reaction.
"…You're different today," she said quietly.
A pause.
"Too different."
She held his gaze for a second longer… before pulling away just as suddenly.
A small scoff escaped her lips.
"Boys and their bird brains."
She folded her arms.
"I can't believe you forgot your promise."
Chad's chest tightened.
"…Promise?"
She shot him a look.
"This weekend," she said. "You said you'd come over."
A brief pause.
"And show me the Strigoi's beast core you got."
—
Strigoi.
—
The word echoed in his mind.
Fragments of knowledge surfaced—things he had read.
'Beast cores.
Crystallized remnants of magical creatures.
Their value depended on rarity, purity, and origin.'
Most were difficult to obtain.
But Strigoi…
—
'Extremely rare.'
'Highly aggressive.'
Creatures that drained vitality rather than simply killing.
'Encounters with them were almost always fatal.'
'Even trained hunters avoided them when possible.'
—
Chad's expression didn't change.
But internally—
'…That's impossible.'
—
'There was no way a child could—'
—
His thoughts paused.
Another explanation surfaced.
'…He lied.'
—
That made far more sense.
A childish exaggeration.
A way to impress.
—
Chad glanced at her.
She was watching him.
Waiting.
"…You didn't forget, did you?" she asked.
Her tone was light.
But her eyes—
They were searching.
—
"…Of course not," Chad said.
"I remember."
—
A brief pause.
Then—
She smiled.
Small.
Subtle.
But real.
"I figured," she said. "You'd never miss a chance to show off."
She turned, walking past him toward the shelves.
"…Just don't try to fake it when you come. I'll know."
—
Chad stiffened slightly.
—
She paused midway.
Murmured something under her breath.
Too quiet to catch.
—
"…What?" Chad asked.
She glanced back.
"Hm? Nothing."
And just like that—
She moved on.
—
Chad frowned faintly.
'Weird.'
—
"…So," she said, scanning the shelves, "what were you doing before I rescued you from that intense staring contest with absolutely nothing?"
—
"…Looking for a book," Chad replied.
"Couldn't find anything interesting."
—
"Liar."
—
He blinked.
She didn't even look at him.
Just casually slid a book out from the shelf.
"…You've never liked reading at all."
—
Chad said nothing.
—
She flipped through a few pages, then returned it.
"…You're bad at lying today," she added.
—
"…I'm just tired."
—
"Mm."
Not convinced.
But she didn't push further.
—
They moved through the shelves together.
Slowly.
—
She talked.
A lot.
—
Random things.
Stories.
Small details that clearly mattered to her—
But meant nothing to Chad.
—
"And then he tripped over his own staff—again," she said, trying not to laugh. "I swear, if he calls himself a 'weapon master' one more time—"
She paused.
Glanced at him.
—
"…You're not even reacting."
—
"…I am."
—
"…Barely." she said.
—
Chad gave a slight shrug.
"I'm listening."
—
"…Are you?"
—
A beat.
—
"…Yes." Chad responds.
—
She studied him.
Longer this time.
—
"…You're weird," she muttered.
—
Another murmur followed.
Even softer.
—
"…not the same…"
—
Chad caught that part.
His brows drew together slightly.
But before he could question it—
—
"Well, well… look who decided to show up again."
—
The voice cut through the moment.
Sharp.
Mocking.
—
Chad turned.
—
The same group from before.
—
The boy at the front smirked, eyes filled with that same familiar contempt.
—
"Back again?" he said. "Didn't get enough yesterday?"
—
Chad remained silent.
—
A scoff.
"Or are you here to read more of that useless garbage?"
—
Before Chad could respond—
—
She stepped forward.
Positioning herself between them.
—
"…Don't start," she said flatly.
—
The boy clicked his tongue.
"…Stay out of this."
—
She tilted her head slightly.
"…Make me."
—
A pause.
Then—
He smirked wider.
—
"Still messing with that weird magic of yours, Lira Veythorne?"
—
There it was.
—
"Better than burning things you barely understand, Riven Ashkar."
—
The air shifted.
—
Subtle—
But unmistakable.
—
Mana gathered.
—
Dark energy flickered faintly around Lira's fingers.
Cold.
Unsettling.
—
Across from her—
Heat shimmered into existence.
The air around Riven's hand warped slightly as faint embers sparked to life.
—
"Oh?" he said. "You really want to try that here?"
—
"Try me."
—
For a moment—
It felt like something would break.
—
Then—
"Enough."
—
The voice cut in.
Cold.
Absolute.
—
A man stood between them.
A library attendant.
—
His gaze moved from one to the other.
Then, calmly—
He pointed toward the wall.
—
"Read."
—
Pinned clearly—
A simple rule.
—
'No use of mana within library premises.'
—
Silence.
—
The tension snapped.
—
Riven clicked his tongue.
"…Tch."
The heat around him faded.
—
He shot Chad a look.
Mocking.
—
"Figures," he said. "Hiding behind a girl now."
—
A smirk.
—
"Pathetic." he added.
—
He turned.
His group followed.
—
And just like that—
They were gone.
—
Silence returned.
—
The energy in the air slowly settled.
—
Chad looked at her.
—
"…You didn't have to do that."
—
She shrugged.
—
"I know."
—
A pause.
—
"…But I wanted to."
—
Simple.
—
Chad studied her.
—
There was something there.
Something he couldn't define.
—
…What was she to him?
—
The question lingered.
Unanswered.
—
They stayed.
—
For the rest of the day.
—
Moving through shelves.
—
She talked.
—
He listened.
—
And every now and then—
—
She glanced at him.
—
Not the same as before.
—
Not as playful.
—
Not as certain.
—
As if she was trying to solve something.
—
And wasn't liking what she was finding.
—
By the time the library closed—
—
One thing had become clear.
—
Whatever connection existed between them before—
—
He was no longer fully part of it.
—