CHAPTER 172: IRELLE.

(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don’t hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

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Orion stepped in front of the mirror and raised a hand.

Silver strands floated.

With a precise twist of mana, he guided the flow around his head — advanced spatial manipulation layering in delicate patterns until his hair fell in a clean, styled sweep that made him look effortlessly composed.

Not too much.

Not too little.

Just enough for a crowded party full of hormonal teenagers.

He sighed.

Now for the real problem.

He couldn’t walk in alone.

Caelum wasn’t going.

Most of the boys had probably found dates.

Selene and Seris had also somehow found dates — suspiciously fast.

He wasn’t planning on barging into a stranger’s birthday party alone like some lost noble.

He checked the time again.

8:58 PM.

Perfect.

The best time to arrive at a party was slightly after it started. (A/N : I’m guessing, not exactly a party person.)

9:30 would be prime.

Now he only needed one thing.

A companion.

A date, maybe.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

It only had to look presentable.

He exhaled slowly.

"...Right. Let’s get this over with."

He tapped his bracelet.

Seris picked up instantly.

"What’s up?" she chirped smugly. "Finally decided?"

Orion closed his eyes.

Here we go.

"You were saying something earlier about me needing a date..."

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Orion stared at the bracelet as the call ended, Seris’ playful voice still echoing faintly in his ears.

A date.

Seris had insisted she "knew just the right person."

And instead of arguing, he’d let her win.

Which was already suspicious.

He shook his head as he stood from the chair. The academy grounds stretched beneath him, filled with distant lights from the outer Magnums. Though the air was cool, there was a restless thrum beneath it — a sense that everyone was moving, preparing, celebrating.

Everyone except him.

Not for long, he guessed.

Seris had sent him the location a minute later.

Meet her at the courtyard behind Magnum 1.

Departure: 9:20.

Don’t be late. : )

Typical Seris.

Orion checked the time — 9:18 PM.

He stepped out of his balcony and into the hallway. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Final-year boys were almost never asleep at this hour. They were out — all of them. Probably already drinking, flirting, or pretending to be mature.

His footsteps echoed softly against the polished flooring as he descended the stairs. Even the ambient mana felt thinner, as if the building itself had emptied for the night.

When he pushed open the door of the dormitory, a colder breeze met him.

He walked across the stone path toward the courtyard — a small garden area hidden between towers, usually quiet at this time of night.

Someone stood there.

Orion slowed.

She wasn’t unfamiliar — not in the casual sense. She wasn’t someone he talked to every day.

But she was someone he had known for four years.

Irelle.

Not the loud type.

Not the attention-seeking type.

Not the type who threw herself into the academy’s spotlight even though she had enough talent to.

Seris... actually picked her?

Orion walked closer, and Irelle turned at the sound — composed, calm, carrying that quiet presence she always had during classes.

And then he froze.

Not visibly.

But internally?

His body betrayed him before his mind could lecture it.

His heartbeat spiked — sharply, definitely.

He inhaled slowly, masking the surprise, analyzing himself with the precision of someone used to reading physiological signals like data.

Elevated pulse.

Increased warmth across the chest.

A delay in breath.

What in the world?

He looked at her again.

She wore a gown — simple but elegant, shaped in a way that framed her silhouette without trying too hard. Violet fabric wrapped around her figure, layered lightly with sheer material over the shoulders. A subtle ribbon tied behind her waist. Hair styled neatly — however it naturally fell for her — and silver accessories placed with understated precision.

No makeup.

No shimmer.

Just... Irelle.

As if she’d been carved from the quiet itself.

She looked up at him, and he saw it — the faint flush on her cheeks.

Nervous.

That made sense. She wasn’t the type who went to parties.

But then another realization settled.

He was nervous.

That made everything even worse.

’Relax, Orion. You’re in control. Not the body.’

He forced the tension out of his shoulders.

Irelle noticed immediately. Her fingers fidgeted. Her gaze darted once toward the ground.

"...Is something wrong?" she asked softly.

Her voice snapped his thoughts back into order.

Orion steadied himself, exhaled, and offered a small, controlled smile.

"Nothing’s wrong," he said calmly. "I was just... admiring your beauty."

Irelle blinked — slow, startled.

Then she flushed deeper.

"You’re... I didn’t think you said things like that," she murmured, barely meeting his eyes.

"Of course I compliment people," Orion replied simply. "If it’s deserved."

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

He continued, "If anything, I should be the one surprised. You don’t seem like someone who’d go to a party like this."

She shot him a side-glance — quiet, unimpressed, but soft.

The kind of look that said plainly:

Pot. Kettle. Black.

Fair.

He cleared his throat, easing the moment.

"So," he asked, lifting his hand slightly toward her, "space or land?"

She looked at his outstretched hand.

Her expression warmed — not embarrassed, but thoughtful.

"Let’s go land," she whispered, placing her hand into his gently.

He nodded once.

Her mana was calm. Cool. Like moonlit water.

The courtyard lights brightened subtly as the two stepped forward, walking side by side toward the party grounds.

Orion’s mind, however, was not calm.

Not even close.

A date.

With Irelle.

A girl he barely spoke to but somehow felt... off-balance around.

He tightened his jaw.

This wasn’t attraction.

It wasn’t interest.

It was nerves — awkwardness — the reality that he was escorting a fourteen-year-old to a social event despite being mentally older.

Right?

He didn’t bother answering his own question.

They crossed the courtyard, her hand still in his, and he could feel the subtle tremor in her fingers — tiny, almost imperceptible.

Nervous.

Her?

Or him?

He swallowed.

Regardless, it was happening.

They walked slowly down the path as the distant thump of music reached them, the party already alive in the outer Magnums.

And as they approached the teleportation platform, Irelle finally spoke again — low and careful.

"...Thank you for asking me."

Orion glanced sideways at her.

"I should be thanking you," he said.