Chapter 152: 4/6 Players
She was the only one who noticed those minute changes.
The details invisible to everyone else.
The tension in his jaw.
The slight movement of his throat as he visibly swallowed back a response.
The measured rhythm of the breathing he was forcing to remain slow and steady.
And paradoxically, that restraint made him even more captivating.
He was breathtaking.
And that was precisely what worried Blanche.
Because a Kiyan struggling to keep himself under control was infinitely more intimidating than a man who simply raised his voice.
She quickly looked away before she gave herself away any further.
She took a breath.
Then focused entirely on her paper.
The questions posed little challenge.
Her pen practically flew across the page, driven by countless hours of training and weeks of steady revision. Despite everything that had happened over the last few minutes, she soon slipped back into that state of concentration that allowed her to forget the rest of the world whenever she worked.
A few minutes later, she set her pen down.
As usual.
The first to finish.
She carefully reviewed every answer before placing her paper on the corner of the teacher's desk.
By then, the atmosphere had eased somewhat.
Kiyan had finally opened his eyes again.
The tension that had sharpened his features only moments before had faded, replaced once more by that elegant serenity that seemed to belong to him naturally.
Without a word, he had risen and was now strolling slowly between the rows of desks, his hands clasped behind his back, occasionally glancing down at a student's paper.
Every movement radiated composure.
As though those few minutes spent mastering his anger had completely closed that brief parenthesis.
Only Blanche knew otherwise.
She discreetly watched him move between the desks.
From the way his fingertips occasionally brushed the edge of a desk, the faint lingering stiffness in his shoulders, and the slightly darker look in his eyes, she understood.
He hadn't calmed down.
He had simply regained control.
And strangely enough, she found that composure infinitely more attractive than any display of anger could ever have been.
So... he just found out about your engagement...
Caught completely off guard, Blanche burst into laughter before she had time to think.
"Miss Callahan," Kiyan said coolly, "are we disturbing you, perhaps?"
The icy rebuke sent another chill through the classroom.
Professor Ardachir often spoke that way.
Just...
Never to Blanche.
The class had noticed that too.
Damn.
He had only just calmed down...
She settled for a few quiet words while absentmindedly stroking the black cat that had appeared in her lap.
"I'm sorry, Professor."
"Provided, of course, that you share the joke with the rest of your classmates. Only then will I consider forgiving you."
She blushed.
For the first time in her life...
She was speechless.
Fortunately, the bell rang, sparing her an awkward stammer.
"Saved by the bell," Kiyan remarked with quiet amusement, no longer quite sure what to make of himself.
When it came to Blanche...
He simply couldn't stay angry.
Then the classroom door opened once more.
A student who had clearly been waiting for the bell for the past five minutes shoved it open with barely concealed impatience...
Only to freeze in the doorway.
Completely.
His hand remained suspended on the handle.
His eyes darted from the young man who had just entered...
To the man following one pace behind him like a silent bodyguard.
The contrast was striking enough to kill any desire to leave the classroom.
Argy entered first.
As though he were walking a red carpet.
For once, the young prince had abandoned his usual casual attire in favor of something elegant down to the smallest detail.
A black silk T-shirt fit his lean frame perfectly without ever becoming ostentatious, while impeccably tailored jeans emphasized his long legs. A flawlessly cut leather jacket rested casually across his shoulders, matched by polished black leather shoes that looked as though they'd just come out of the box.
His usually unruly hair had clearly been entrusted to a professional stylist.
Every strand fell exactly where it should, highlighting the refined features of his face and his naturally charming smile.
A pair of elegant silver-rimmed glasses completed the image, making him look less like a university student and more like the heir to a wealthy dynasty arriving for an important business meeting.
He exuded confidence.
The quiet assurance of someone who knew people were watching.
And behind him...
Kysten.
The vampire elf moved with the almost unreal grace characteristic of his kind, so silent that it seemed he glided across the floor instead of walking.
His outfit, crafted entirely from black leather, immediately evoked the aesthetic of his people: perfectly fitted trousers, a long tailored coat accentuating his tall frame, and knee-high boots whose matte leather seemed to absorb the light itself.
Even his sunglasses—entirely unnecessary indoors—felt like part of a meticulously orchestrated performance.
His long pale hair had been swept flawlessly back into a low bun of almost military precision, revealing a face of cold, sculptural beauty.
The tips of his pointed ears remained partially hidden beneath his silky hair.
Beside Argy, whose charm was warm and effortlessly approachable, Kysten looked more like a marble statue brought to life.
The contrast between them was striking.
One smiled easily.
The other looked as though he'd forgotten smiling was even possible.
And yet...
They formed a remarkably harmonious pair.
One brought the light.
The other, the shadow.
They crossed the classroom side by side, immediately setting off a wave of whispers among the students.
Even Eva stopped doodling long enough to look up.
Meanwhile, Kiyan watched the scene with the same sovereign impassivity that always defined him.
Each of the two men commanded respect through nothing more than their presence and the way they carried themselves—
as though the world naturally belonged to them.