Noel followed Marcus up the stairs from the main dance floor. This lower level was built around a wide, open perimeter, with sturdy mana-glass railings that gave a clear view of the crowd below. Along the edges, elevated just slightly, were private lounge areas—each designed for small groups to enjoy the music without being swallowed by it.
He glanced around as they climbed.
"There's a lot of people with lounges," Noel muttered.
Marcus looked back at him with a grin. "Some people don't like being down in the crowd. They'd rather hang out with friends somewhere quieter. That's what the lounges are for."
'Makes sense. I'd take that too, honestly. Though… changing it up now and then doesn't hurt.'
As they reached the second floor, Noel's eyes drifted across the other lounges.
In one of them, he immediately spotted Elyra von Estermont—Vice President of the Student Council… and, in a way, his partner in crime.
She sat elegantly among a group of well-dressed nobles, drink in hand, smiling at something someone said.
'So she parties too.'
'Not surprised. With how much she's juggling, she deserves a break.'
Still, the thought reminded him—
'Soon, I'll need to return to the mission. The redhead. The infiltration. All of it.'
But as he looked around, another realization hit him.
'This scene… this moment... it never happened in the book.'
The story he knew by heart had no mention of this party. No reserved lounges. No glittering lights. No laughter echoing through the club's upper level.
It wasn't just surprising.
It was... human.
'They're not characters following a script.'
'They're people. Real people. And maybe that's better.'
'I've already died once. This is my life now. And yeah, there's work to do. A world to save. But…'
'I want to live it, too.'
As they reached the booth, Marcus glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
"So how'd you end up here?"
Noel gave a dry chuckle. "Roberto dragged me."
He paused.
Then shrugged.
"But I don't regret it. Feels good to unplug for once."
The lounge wasn't massive, but it had just enough to make it feel exclusive. Comfortable seating surrounded a sleek, mana-glass table that looked expensive. Very expensive. The railing around the lounge shimmered faintly—some kind of enchantment. It allowed just enough of the music from below to seep through to keep the atmosphere alive, while softening the sound so everyone could actually talk.
Marcus was the first to step inside, raising his hand as he announced, "Hey—look who I found."
The first to smile was Clara, of course.
Then the rest of the group turned.
Seated beside Clara was Elena von Lestaria, radiant as ever. She wore a casual white dress that highlighted her elegant figure without trying. The sleeves were long, but the back was open—revealing just enough to be tasteful, dangerous, and absolutely impossible to ignore. Her silvery-blonde hair flowed freely down her back, and a delicate silver pendant rested around her collarbone, perfectly matching the shine of her hair.
Noel paused.
Maybe a second too long.
'Goddamn.'
Her elven features still caught him off guard. Elves were known for being beautiful—but Elena? She was on another level entirely.
"We've met," she said smoothly, her gaze settling on Noel. "Briefly."
He blinked once, nodded. "Yeah. You asked Gareth about the dorm rules."
"And you acted like a gentleman there. Seems like you remember well, too." She tilted her head slightly, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Congrats, by the way. On your exam results. Looked like you did pretty well."
'Top of theory. High in practicals. She's brilliant. And important.'
'I need her on my side eventually. Might as well plant that seed now.'
"Thanks. I did alright," he said. "But nowhere near you. First in theory, and one of the top in practicals."
"Always," she said, her tone smooth as silk.
Noel couldn't tell if it was arrogance or honesty.
Probably both.
Before he could say anything else, Marcus cut in with a grin.
"Alright, alright, don't hog all the attention—there's more people here, you know."
Noel gave a small nod. "Sorry."
"No worries," Marcus said. "Looks like you already know Clara and Elena. The guy trying to fuse with the couch over there—"
He pointed at the green-haired student sprawled sideways like he had no spine.
"—that's Laziel Varn. Mage. Arrogant genius. Acts lazy but he'll out-cast you with one eye closed."
Laziel gave a lazy salute. "I like this one. He doesn't talk too much."
"And that," Marcus continued, pointing to the mountain of a man sipping from a mug, "is Garron Bale. Knight. Strong. Honest. Kind of terrifying when he's pissed. Basically a puppy in armor."
"It's rude to point," Garron said, grinning. "Nice to meet you. You must be Noel."
"Likewise."
They shook hands.
Noel winced slightly at the strength in Garron's grip—that guy did not know his own power.
There were two more girls at the edge of the booth—friends of Clara and Elena. Noel greeted them with a polite nod, then slid into the nearest open seat, feeling the warmth of the lounge settle around him.
For once, he didn't feel like an outsider looking in.
Noel sat back in his seat, fingers loosely wrapped around a cold glass he hadn't touched yet. The lounge was warm, dimly lit with floating crystal lanterns that pulsed softly to the music, casting gold and violet hues across the polished surfaces.
His gaze drifted—naturally, inevitably—back to Elena.
She was speaking quietly with Clara and one of the girls beside her, elegant in posture even while seated. She didn't fidget. Didn't overreact. Every move she made felt precise, like a noblewoman trained from birth to command attention without ever needing to raise her voice.
And the thing was—she didn't try.
The white dress, the silver necklace, the open back—none of it was meant to show off. It just worked.
Noel stared for a beat longer than he should've, then looked down at his glass.
'She's beautiful. That much is obvious.'
'But there's something else. A kind of gravity around her.'
'And in the book, she wasn't just brilliant—she was pivotal.'
He thought back to the pages. The way she moved through politics like a ghost with a blade. How she was respected by the Council, feared by nobles, loved by the people.
'Getting on her good side wouldn't just be useful. It might be necessary.'
She turned then, eyes meeting his from across the table.
Not sharply. Not cold.
Just… curious.
Their eyes held for a second longer than was casual.
Then she gave him a small nod—barely a movement.
And he returned it.
The music from below pulsed gently through the lounge floor, but here, everything felt softer. Calmer. The conversation was light—Clara teasing Marcus about how seriously he took every lesson, Garron responding with a dry comment about Marcus "taking notes on his dreams," which earned a round of laughter from the table.
Noel had settled into his seat with surprising ease. The cushion was warm, the drink smooth, the company easy.
At one point, while the others got caught up in a debate about who had the worst practical exam partner, Elena shifted slightly, angling her chair just a bit toward him.
"Your first party?" she asked, voice low, private.
Noel looked over. "That obvious?"
"Not at all," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. "But I've been coming to these once in a while. You get used to them."
He took a sip from his glass. "It's nice. Better than I expected."
Elena nodded, gently swirling her drink. "I think people forget how important it is to... stop. To enjoy things. Even small ones."
"Hard to do when exams are trying to kill you."
That made her laugh—light and genuine.
He looked at her for a second. Her silver-blonde hair framed her face perfectly in the warm light, her features soft and relaxed—so different from the composed noble presence she carried in the halls.
"I'll drink to that," Noel said, raising his glass slightly.
Elena touched hers to his with a soft clink.
And for a little while, they didn't talk.
They just sat, quietly, sipping, watching the slow movement of lights across the floor below.
The night air outside the club was crisp and calm. The music dulled to a low thrum behind the thick door as it shut softly behind Noel. He stepped out, rolling his shoulders, letting the cool breeze hit his face.
He leaned against the wall beside the entrance, hands in his pockets, letting the noise and lights behind him fade into the background.
The door opened again.
Elena von Lestaria stepped out, wrapping a thin shawl around her shoulders. Her dress moved gently with the wind, and the silver glint of her necklace shimmered under the lamplight.
Their eyes met.
"I'm heading back," she said casually. "Too loud in there."
Noel gave a small nod. "Same."
He paused for a second, then gestured slightly with his chin. "You want company for the walk?"
She considered him for a heartbeat.
Then, with a soft shrug and the faintest smile, "Sure. We're going the same way anyway."
They began walking side by side, down the stone-paved path that led toward the academy's residential district. The way was familiar, the streets quiet now except for the occasional laugh or clink of glass in the distance.
Noel didn't feel the need to speak—and apparently, neither did she.
It wasn't awkward.
It was easy.
They passed under a few glowing street crystals, their light washing the road in soft blue. Their footsteps echoed gently as the club grew smaller behind them.
'Peaceful.'
That's the only word that came to Noel's mind.
And for once, he didn't overthink it.
He just walked.
They reached the end of the quiet path leading toward the Class A dorms, the main tower now visible through the trees, softly lit under moonlight.
Elena slowed her pace just a bit, then glanced at him with that calm, composed expression of hers.
"Thanks," she said, voice quiet.
Noel raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For not hitting on me."
He blinked.
Caught completely off guard.
"…Right."
She looked amused now—just slightly.
"I'm used to people leading with that."
Noel scratched the back of his neck. "Well, not everything's about appearances."
He hesitated.
Then added, "I mean—don't get me wrong. You're beautiful. Obviously. But... that's not all there is. I barely know you."
Elena arched an eyebrow.
Then smiled.
Noel could only stare ahead for a second, suddenly aware of the heat rising behind his ears.
'What the hell are you doing, Noel? You're an adult. Act like one.'
Elena laughed. Not mocking—just soft, clear, and genuine.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said.
Noel was about to answer when something—a flicker of movement—caught the corner of his eye.
He turned his head.
Across the street, barely visible through the dim light, was a familiar silhouette.
Red hair. Hood. Walking alone.
'No way.'
He narrowed his eyes.
The figure wasn't walking straight. Unsteady. Drunk, maybe. But the shape, the posture—Noel had seen it enough times to recognize it instantly.
His target.
Noel stepped back from Elena gently.
"I've gotta go."
She tilted her head. "Trouble?"
He gave her a half-smile. "Something like that."
"Be careful."
Noel nodded, then turned and slipped quietly into the shadows, eyes locked on the redhead already moving farther down the road.
And just like that—
He was back in the game.