Night had fully fallen, and the last streak of sunset on the horizon had been swallowed by deep indigo.
A cool crescent moon quietly climbed into the sky, casting a hazy silver glow.
In the student dormitory area, the lights were off in Sylvia's single room.
Amid the darkness, only the moonlight outside the window and the faint glow of distant streetlamps barely outlined the furniture.
She was not sitting at her desk reviewing her lessons as usual, nor was she saying her bedtime prayers.
She simply sat quietly in the chair by the window, her back to the door and her face toward the glass, motionless as a delicate porcelain doll.
Her long pink hair fell loose over her shoulders, gleaming softly in the moonlight.
Her pink eyes, usually so clear and bright, were now unfocused. She stared aimlessly at the courtyard shrouded in darkness outside, and the silhouettes of the Academy buildings farther away.
That afternoon in the Central Courtyard, she had confirmed two things.
First, Senior Greg really did like Victoria. Perhaps he had been so kind to her before only so that she could help bring the two of them together.
Second, Sylvia had realized that she had a chance to come between them. When she had tried to get physically close to Greg, he had not resisted. He had only been concerned about Victoria watching. That meant that, as long as Victoria did not find out, Senior Greg was willing to share some intimate contact with her.
Those two realizations intertwined in her heart like ice and fire, bringing an indescribable ache and a hint of... secret delight.
Yet the moment she remembered grabbing Greg's hand that afternoon and pressing it against her chest to leave a handprint-
Sylvia felt a scorching rush of heat