The silence inside the President's office that night felt heavier than usual, but it wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence that carried meaning, something unspoken yet deeply understood, something that neither Zein Shoin nor Ace Craige was willing to break too quickly.
Zein remained by the window, her gaze fixed on the dark campus below, but her thoughts were no longer on the students, the danger, or even survival—they had shifted, quietly, dangerously, toward the one person she should not have been thinking about.
It irritated her, not because she was weak, but because she couldn't fully understand why his presence had started to feel… constant, like something she had begun to expect without realizing it.
Behind her, Ace stood still, watching her—not openly, not intrusively, but enough to notice the slight changes in her posture, the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her silence tonight felt different from all the others.
He was not a man who questioned emotions often, not someone who allowed himself to dwell on unnecessary thoughts, yet with her… things didn't remain simple.
"You're thinking too much," he said quietly.
Zein didn't turn.
"And you're observing too much."
A faint pause.
Then—
"That's my job," he replied.
Zein let out a soft breath, almost like a silent scoff.
"And what exactly am I to you?" she asked, her tone calm but carrying something deeper beneath it.
"An assignment? A responsibility? Or just another person you decided to control?"
The question lingered in the air longer than expected.
Ace didn't answer immediately.
Because for the first time—
The answer wasn't simple.