Zane leaned back against his pillow, raising a weak finger toward Luna.
"Yeah, new topic. Why are you interested in Asher?" His tone was lazy, but his eyebrow twitched. "Not saying he's bad or anything, but… why?"
Luna blinked, her cheeks turning red. "I-I… um…"
Asher nearly choked. "Zane!" he hissed, eyes wide. "You can't just—"
Before Luna could stammer out an excuse, a knock sounded at the door.
Knock. Knock.
A familiar voice carried through, sweet and calm.
"It's me, Celeste from breakfast. Can I come in?"
Zane froze, then groaned, pressing a palm against his forehead like the gods themselves were out to rob him of sleep. His reply was short, sharp, almost irritated:
"Why."
Outside, a small crowd of boys who had gathered—yes, again—stared at each other in shock.
"…Celeste?" one whispered.
"The noble girl?!" another gasped.
"She—she's at his door!?"
A blindfold was tugged down over one boy's eyes. Then another. Then another. Soon, a line of boys stood there, faces solemn, blindfolds in place.
"The Dorm God strikes again," one muttered reverently.
"We are unworthy," another added.
Inside, Zane let his head fall back against the pillow with a loud thunk.
"…I hate this dorm," he muttered.
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. Asher covered his face. Luna looked utterly lost.
And still—Celeste's knock came again.