Xelvaris, City of Scribes and Stars.
Caelum walked its halls like a ghost in daylight.
At first, professors didn't know what to make of the boy with mismatched eyes, silver-touched hair, and strange machines on his belt. But he didn't compete. He didn't boast. He only watched, learned, and quietly rewrote theories that had stood unchallenged for centuries.
In two months, he outpaced every scholar.
By the fifth, he was personally summoned by the High Technarch and given unrestricted access to the Forbidden Archives.
And that's when he met her.
Lysia Aerenthal.
Another prodigy. The youngest alchemagical engineer in empire history. Wielding spells and runes like equations, her beauty was matched only by the sharpness of her mind.
Their first meeting?
An argument in the lab.
"You reversed the polarity without accounting for cross-dimensional feedback," she snapped.
Caelum blinked. "I rerouted the energy through a synthetic mana sponge. You missed the fifth valve loop."
She froze. Stared at the data again. Then slowly turned to him.
"…Who are you?"
"Caelum Verrian. New to this continent. I like quiet and coffee."
She scoffed.
But from that day on, they worked together.
Days turned into weeks. Nights bled into dawns as they built marvels the empire had only dreamed of.
Artificial spellcasters. Time-slowing domes. Combat drones that read enemy intent.
Together, they made history.
But while the world celebrated their inventions, Lysia quietly fell in love.
It started with his focus. His unshakable calm. The way he spoke so gently even when destroying a theory that had stood for a hundred years.
She began watching him work. Smiling at his odd habits — like whispering to machines or carrying tea wherever he went.
She began craving his approval. Bringing him new puzzles just to see the spark in his eyes.
And one night, beneath a starlit dome after testing a project that could predict magical storms, she couldn't hold it anymore.
"I love you."
Caelum paused, halfway through a calculation.
"I'm sorry?"
"I've been in love with you for months," she said softly, smiling despite the nervousness. "You don't have to say anything. I just… needed to say it."
He stared.
And then — quietly, innocently — replied:
"I don't know what love feels like. But I don't want you to stop being near me."
It was the most Caelum thing he could have said.
And it was enough.