Meteora blinked once.

  Then twice.

  He processed what was happening in front of him, searching for words. When he finally found them—whether they should have remained unsaid or not—he didn’t care.

  “Excited puppy,” he stated deadpan.

  The Noctyrr sister froze mid-motion, her enthusiasm caught red-handed by those two words.

  Both sisters stopped and blinked in bewilderment, while Tori discreetly turned away.

  “I am not a dog, silly!” the Noctyrr sister exclaimed. “My SC is the Ox, and I am under Scorpio!” she added proudly, completely missing the point.

  A choking sound came from Tori—suspiciously close to stifled snorting.

  The Thalwyn sister stepped forward gracefully.

  “Nor am I. My SC is the Rabbit, and I am under Pisces,” she stated flatly.

  At that point, Tori devolved into open chortling, utterly unable to restrain herself at the siblings’ sincere misunderstanding—and the terrifying accuracy of Meteora’s description.

  Her laughter drew confused stares from the surrounding crowd. The sisters exchanged looks, then turned to Meteora, silently asking _what just happened?_

  Meteora simply shrugged.

  In perfect unison, the three students took a step away from Tori.

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  That was the final blow.

  Tori doubled over, laughter echoing through the workshop.

  The Thalwyn sister blinked, silent confusion giving way to mild concern.

  Her Noctyrr sister stood frozen for a moment—then a massive grin split her face as she began to shake with contagious laughter.

  Meteora watched it all with his usual exhausted deadpan.

  “If she laughs any harder, she’s gonna make butter,” he muttered—far too audibly.

  Tori collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe.

  The other AZC representatives watched from the sidelines in collective mortification. Some looked amused. Some concerned. Others annoyed.

  One muttered just loud enough to hear, “What is she on? I want some.”

  Several facepalms followed. A few groans, too.

  The Noctyrr sister turned back to Meteora.

  “Well, before I forget—and before my younger sister chases me—let me introduce myself,” she said confidently. “I’m Seris Valyrix.”

  “And I am Elowen Valyrix,” the Thalwyn sister added, stepping closer. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The moment their names landed, hushed whispers rippled through the students.

  “Did she just say Valyrix?”

  “As in _the_ House Valyrix?”

  “By the stars, I was going to heckle—”

  “Yeah… we made fools of ourselves.”

  Meteora barely noticed.

  He studied the sisters, weighing whether politeness required reciprocation. Their reputation meant nothing to him—he had no idea who they were.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Meteora,” he replied simply.

  For a brief moment, the noise around him faded. No whispers, no laughter—just the weight of unfamiliar attention pressing in from every direction.

  He stood there, uncertain what response was expected, and too tired to guess wrong. His expression remained unreadable as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

  _This is going to be exhausting,_ he decided.

  Envy thickened the air almost instantly.

  “Nice to meet you, Meo!” Seris beamed, already claiming familiarity as she slung an arm around his shoulders.

  Meteora froze.

  The closeness.

  The nickname.

  The _confidence_.

  His mind produced only one response.

  _Internally screaming._