flirty · cold · serious · golden butterfly · trauma · hidden nobility · dual personality · mysterious · romance
Morning sun cut sharp angles through the classroom windows, illuminating dust motes swirling in the stale air. The room hummed with whispered excitement and anxious fingers tracing necks. My own collar felt like a vice, the fresh blue paint a fragile shield. Nadia and Serena stood close, their simple butterfly tattoos gleaming in the light as Nadia leaned in. "Is it true?" she murmured, eyes wide. "Did Elara really get the Gold Mark?" I made my voice light with false surprise. "She couldn't have." Serena rolled her eyes with practiced disdain. "Elara would say anything to be the center of it all." But Nadia just smiled, gaze drifting. "Still... Prince Lysander is out there looking." As they debated, a familiar, piercing laugh cut through—Elara, holding court with stories of a golden but…