The lighting in the office was colder than the sunlight outside.
Luna noticed it the moment she stepped in.
Not as discomfort—but as assessment.
Elite Academy favored this kind of illumination. It was not designed for comfort, only for control. Shadows were deliberately thinned, ambiguity erased, leaving no space for anything that did not wish to be seen.
She scanned the room on instinct.
Light angles.Acoustic response.Interface placement.And the monitoring points—carefully concealed, never absent.
There were no true blind spots.
Only areas where observation was no longer emphasized.
This habit had not been taught by academia.
It belonged to a fugitive.
"This will be your temporary office during your time at the Academy," the assistant said, stopping at the doorway, her politeness precise and impersonal. "All essential equipment has been installed. If you require anything further, you may submit a request through the system. As long as it does not exceed the high-value cap, approval is generally automatic."
"High-value cap?"Luna did not turn around.
"Three million," the assistant replied, easily—almost proudly.
It was not about money.
It was about rules.
At Elite Academy, limits themselves were a form of status.
Luna nodded, her gaze settling on the lab bench by the window. The equipment was pristine, far beyond what most visiting researchers were granted.
She calculated the cost automatically—then dismissed the thought just as quickly.
Extravagance was not an anomaly here.
It was the baseline.
"If there's nothing else, I won't disturb you," the assistant said, her tone lightening, as though her evaluation had already concluded.
She believed she understood Luna.
A researcher.An invitee.Temporary.
Luna did not correct her.
Misjudgment, more often than not, was the safest camouflage.
The door closed behind the assistant.
The silence that followed was almost excessive.
Luna remained standing.
She knew this room had not been prepared solely for work, but for confirmation. The funding. The access. The precision of the setup.
All of it answered a single question:
Were you worth letting in?
She stepped closer to the desk, fingertips brushing the edge of the work surface.
Cold.
The Academy did not trust people. It trusted parameters.
And at this moment, she stood squarely within them.
The sensation was familiar.
Not fear—
but the body's recognition of being enclosed.
She remembered Adrian Moreau's gaze.
It had not been intrusive.It had not been curious.
It had been something far more dangerous.
Verification.
He had not pressed her. Had not overstepped. Had even withdrawn when she refused.
Which told her everything.
He was not in a hurry.
And those who were not in a hurry believed time was already on their side.
For the Wolf King's heir, such confidence was almost laughable.
For Luna—the researcher, the fugitive—it was a warning.
She had been placed into a long-term frame.
Not by a man.
By a system.
She sat down and activated the terminal.
The response was immediate. Permissions synchronized, interfaces unlocked, data pathways opened.
Too smooth.
Smoothness, here, was suspicious.
She accessed the backend logs, scanning quickly for flagged processes.
Nothing obvious.
Which, at Elite Academy, was often the most dangerous result.
She closed the terminal and leaned back, eyes shutting briefly.
She had navigated environments like this before.
The difference was that she had always known who the hunters were.
Here, they were hidden behind procedures, protocols, and professional courtesy.
The internal communicator lit up.
"Luna?"
The voice arrived before the image—unhurried, unguarded.
She opened her eyes.
Ethan Bennett appeared on the screen, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed, as though the tension of the research tower had never touched him.
"What if now isn't a good time?" she asked calmly.
Ethan smiled."Then I'll wait until it is."
Not an interruption.
Not a probe.
An assumption of continuity.
That made her frown.
"You're not here just for academic coordination," Luna said.
"No," Ethan replied easily. "That's only part of it. And I suspect you've already noticed—this place isn't exactly quiet for you."
She did not deny it.
"Tonight, there's a small discussion," Ethan continued. "No formal process. No records. Just people exchanging ideas."
"What kind of people?" she asked.
"Smart. Curious. And not particularly fond of being limited by rules," he said lightly. "You don't have to speak. Just listen."
This was not an invitation.
It was a test.
Acceptance meant entering another layer of visibility.Refusal meant remaining isolated—at a cost she could not fully calculate.
Luna was silent for a few seconds.
Then she nodded.
"What time?"
"Seven."Ethan's smile deepened. "I'll come get you."
The screen went dark.
The office returned to silence.
Luna stared at the inactive display, her thoughts sharper than before.
Adrian Moreau represented the Academy itself—rules, authority, patient and persistent pressure.
Ethan Bennett existed in the gaps between those rules.He understood them, but did not entirely belong to them.
They were different kinds of danger.
She should have chosen distance.
But she understood now—
At Elite Academy, refusing to choose was a choice in itself.
And she had never been good at passivity.
Outside the window, the light began to tilt, the setting sun casting long, blade-like shadows across the stone walls.
Luna reopened the terminal and returned to her work.
She knew this was only the beginning.
The real conflict had not yet been permitted to surface.
But somewhere within the Academy's systems, her name had already been entered into a different queue.
One that did not exist on any public schedule.