After that night on the restaurant terrace, the relationship between Ivy Frost and Julian Blackwood shifted in subtle ways.
There were no more public arguments or deliberate cold shoulders. Instead, a quieter, more intimate tension took their place. They never acted close in front of others—they barely even spoke. But the occasional meeting of their eyes, the unconsciously shortened distance when they passed in the hallway, the small pauses that only they understood—all of it flowed through the air like a silent undercurrent.
The most obvious sign was the silver cufflink on Ivy's collar.
She wore it every day.
Sierra Vance clearly sensed that something was off. Several times she tried to provoke or cozy up to Ivy, only to be brushed off with polite indifference. And whenever Sierra tried to use Julian's "bastard" status as ammunition, Ivy never said a word in his defense—but the sudden coldness in her eyes made Sierra feel an inexplicable pressure, and she would shut up with a sulk.
**Ivy herself didn't know why she reacted that way.**
**She just… didn't like hearing other people talk about him like that.**
Ethan Sterling's gaze toward the two of them grew deeper, more calculating. Celeste Sterling remained as calm as ever, but occasionally, when she looked at them, a faint, knowing, and complicated smile would cross her lips.
Casper Hawthorne still avoided Ivy. Yoon Jeongha's departure seemed to have hit him hard. It irritated Ivy for reasons she couldn't quite name—one insignificant person, why did it matter?
---
**At lunchtime, Ivy skipped the Asteridge Circle lounge for once. Instead, she went alone to the rooftop terrace of the library.**
**It was the place where she and Julian had first truly talked.**
The sun was warm. It felt good on her skin. She leaned against the railing, watching groups of students on the sports field below, but her heart felt strangely hollow.
**She had been like this lately—easily distracted, prone to thinking about things she shouldn't. Like that kiss on her forehead. Light as a feather.**
She had barely been standing there for a moment when the door behind her opened.
She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Familiar footsteps stopped beside her. A shadow with a cool, crisp scent fell over her.
"Why aren't you at the lounge?" Julian's voice came naturally, as if they met here every day.
"Noisy." Ivy's reply was brief. Her gaze stayed fixed on the distance, but her heartbeat quickened despite herself.
He hummed in acknowledgment, said nothing more, and simply leaned on the railing beside her, mirroring her pose.
The two stood side by side. Silence flowed between them—not awkward, but oddly comfortable.
Sunlight stretched their shadows long across the floor, overlapping.
After a while, Julian pulled a small, delicate box from his pocket and held it out to Ivy.
"For you."
Ivy glanced sideways. She didn't take it. "What?"
"Cufflinks." He opened the box. Inside were a pair of silver cufflinks, simple in design but elegant. They matched the style of the one he had given her before, but these were clearly women's—more refined. "Last time, someone threw mine back at me."
There was a hint of teasing in his voice, barely noticeable.
**Ivy's gaze drifted from the cufflinks to his face.**
**The sunlight perfectly outlined his profile—the straight, high-bridged nose like carved jade, thick lashes casting fine shadows under his eyes, perfect lips, a sharp jawline. Standing there in the light, he was almost unreal in his beauty. He was more stunning than any celebrity or painting she had ever seen.**
**She forced herself to look back at the cufflinks, suppressing the flutter in her chest. Her voice came out slightly sharp, masking her reaction.**
"And what's this?" She pointed at the box, looking up at him. "Another 'brand'?"
She deliberately repeated the word he had used last time, her tone carrying a hint of scrutiny. She wanted to know what he was trying to "mark" this time.
Julian seemed pleased by her choice of words. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly—a fleeting smile that made his exquisite face come alive. It made Ivy's heart skip.
"You could say that." He admitted openly. "But this time, it's mutual."
He picked up one of the cufflinks. His fingertips brushed against Ivy's hand, sending a small electric current through her skin.
"I'll wear mine. You wear yours." He looked at her, his gaze focused. "That way, on certain occasions—like the next boring banquet we have to attend together, or in front of your father… we'll look more like a 'couple.'"
His reasoning was practical—to deal with outside scrutiny and pressure. But words like "mutual" and "couple," coming from his lips, paired with that serious, beautiful face, created an ambiguity far beyond their practical purpose.
"And," he paused, his voice dropping slightly, "if you ever feel trapped again, or need something to hold onto… you can touch it."
**He remembered all her vulnerable moments. Even the ones she had never voiced, but he had noticed anyway. That kind of quiet attentiveness touched Ivy more than any sweet words could have.**
He left the choice to her, waiting for her response.
**Ivy looked at the cufflinks glinting in the sunlight. She glanced again at Julian's unfairly handsome face, the one that made her heart race. A stubborn streak rose in her—if she just accepted this so easily, wouldn't that make her seem too easy to please?**
She wrinkled her nose, putting on an exaggerated expression of picky disdain. Her voice came out stiff.
"Who wants to wear matching stuff with you."
She even pouted dramatically.
"So ugly."
**But even as she said it, her fingers didn't push the box away. Instead, almost unconsciously, she traced the velvet edge of the box with her fingertip. Her gaze stayed glued to the cufflinks.**
Julian saw every one of her small gestures. He didn't get angry. Instead, a genuine, shallow smile spread through his beautiful eyes, softening his whole face. It was dazzling.
He let out a low laugh—soft, but with a resonance that was oddly attractive.
"Is that so?" He played along, his voice full of obvious indulgence and teasing. "Then I guess my taste is terrible."
He said that, but his actions were decisive. He took the women's cufflink out of the box and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, stepped closer to Ivy.
Before she could react, he leaned down slightly and, with deft fingers, pinned the cufflink to her collar—just below the first button of her school shirt, at the neckline.
His fingers unavoidably brushed against her collarbone, sending a shiver through her.
"But since I already bought it," he gave himself an excuse, his voice close to her ear, his breath warm, "it would be a waste to throw it away. So consider it 'stored' with you for now."
He stepped back half a pace to admire his work. He nodded, seeming satisfied.
"As for whether it's ugly…" He picked up his own cufflink and slowly pinned it to the same spot on his own shirt. Then he looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now we match. If it's ugly, we're ugly together."
**He had completely turned her words around. He had admitted the cufflinks were ugly—just as she wanted—but then bound them together with his actions, and even shared the blame for the "ugliness." Ivy had no comeback. She could only glare at him, her cheeks growing warm despite herself.**
In the sunlight, the two silver cufflinks glittered at their collars—a silent secret pact that only the two of them understood.
**His "ugly together" left Ivy speechless. The stubborn feeling in her chest hadn't faded, but somehow… it didn't feel so bad anymore. Watching him adjust his own cufflink, the same as hers, a mischievous impulse rose in her. Or maybe it was another way of pulling him closer.**
She stepped forward and reached out. Her fingertips touched his collar, brushing against the warm skin of his neck. She felt him go very still for a fraction of a second.
"Don't move." Ivy put on a serious face, frowning at his cufflink. "It's crooked."
She deliberately fumbled with the perfectly straight cufflink, her fingers brushing against his skin.
"See? So ugly." She adjusted it while throwing his own words back at him, her voice carrying a hint of playful revenge and intimacy. "Can't even put it on right."
Julian let her "mess up" his collar. He didn't stop her. He just lowered his head, his gaze resting on her face—so close. Her focused expression, her slightly fluttering lashes, the barely suppressed smile at the corner of her lips… he saw it all.
His Adam's apple moved slightly.
After Ivy finished her "adjustment" (it was probably even more crooked now), he finally spoke. His voice was lower, rougher than before.
"Mm. Not on right."
He paused.
"Maybe because the person helping me… isn't very skilled."
**The implication was clear. Ivy had purposely messed it up, but he blamed the "person helping him"—and that "person" was clearly Ivy herself.**
Ivy looked up and met his teasing yet deeper gaze. Her face flushed hotter. She quickly pulled her hand back and took a small step away.
"…Do it yourself!" She turned her face away in slight panic, smoothing down her own collar as a cover. She touched the cufflink he had put on her—the cool metal now seemed to burn.
Julian watched her flustered retreat and laughed softly. He didn't tease her further. He raised his hand and straightened his own cufflink properly.
The bell for the end of lunch break rang, breaking the intimate, ambiguous atmosphere on the terrace.
"Let's go." Julian's voice was back to normal, but his eyes were still soft.
They walked down the stairs one after the other, returning to the noisy campus. The matching silver glints at their collars were invisible threads connecting them.
---
**In the afternoon math class, the teacher announced that next week there would be an important group project presentation that would affect final grades. Students could form their own pairs.**
The news caused a small stir in the classroom. Members of the Asteridge Circle naturally began exchanging glances, looking for their usual partners.
**Almost simultaneously, Ivy turned her head unintentionally toward Julian in the back corner. At the same moment, he looked up, his gaze crossing several rows of seats and landing precisely on her.**
The air seemed to carry an invisible current.
Given their newly formed "alliance" and the hint of the matching cufflinks, teaming up seemed like the obvious choice. But it would also mean openly binding their relationship in an academic setting—exposing it to more eyes.
**When the bell rang, everyone began moving.**
**Ivy sat still, thinking quickly. Teaming up with Julian was the most natural choice. And the most… tempting. But it would instantly make their relationship the focus of the whole class, especially the Asteridge Circle. It might draw unwanted attention and tighter surveillance from her father.**
Just then, Sierra Vance walked over with a big smile and linked her arm through Ivy's. "Ivy! Let's be partners! I hate working with clumsy people. You and I will definitely get the highest score!"
Her proposal was clearly calculated—she wanted to pull Ivy deeper into her circle. Ivy remembered her father's earlier "reminder" and her own fleeting thought: having a "best friend" (even a fake one) to bully others with would be more fun and more efficient. Sierra was annoying and stupid, but her status and her (surface) compliance could be useful.
**Ivy hesitated. Her gaze drifted again toward Julian. He was still sitting in his seat, not in a hurry, just watching her quietly. His expression was calm, unreadable.**
Sierra tugged at her arm. "Come on, Ivy! Please?"
**Ivy looked at Sierra's face—full of expectation and calculation. She thought about the "convenience" and "fun" of having a rich, powerful partner in her bullying games. Her internal scale tipped. Teaming up with Julian was tempting, but for now, solidifying her position in the Asteridge Circle and expanding her "playground" seemed more practical.**
She smiled—the same kind of warm, slightly arrogant smile as Sierra—and nodded.
"Okay." She agreed readily. "Let's be partners."
She even patted Sierra's hand lightly, like a silent pact.
Sierra beamed. She held Ivy's arm tighter and shot a smug look at the others who were still forming groups.
**Ivy didn't immediately look at Julian. But she could feel a gaze on their linked arms. It carried weight, making the back of her neck prickle.**
She forced herself to ignore it and started discussing project topics with Sierra. But in her head, she was already planning which unlucky person to use as their "negative example" or "entertainment material."
---
**After school, Ivy packed her bag and headed out. Just outside the classroom door, someone blocked her in the hallway.**
Julian Blackwood.
He leaned against the wall, clearly waiting for her. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were darker than usual.
"Found your partner?" His voice was flat.
Ivy nodded. She didn't say anything.
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he gave a very faint, humorless smile.
"Sierra?" He confirmed.
"Yeah." Ivy met his gaze. "Problem?"
Her tone was defensive, ready for criticism or disappointment.
Julian looked at her. His gaze lingered on the cufflink at her collar—the one he had put on her—for a moment. Then he looked back into her eyes.
"No." He said flatly. "Your choice."
He straightened up and walked past her. As he brushed by, his voice dropped so only she could hear:
"Just don't take it too far. And don't forget… what's on your collar."
Then he walked away without looking back.
**His words were a reminder. And a warning—laced with disappointment. "What's on your collar" pointed to the connection they had just built, the one she seemed so ready to set aside.**
**Ivy stood where she was. Her fingers unconsciously touched the cool cufflink.**
**A tiny, unwillingly admitted wave of regret and irritation washed over her.**