Chapter 1
At eight in the morning, on the set. "What? They cut so much of his scenes?" Outside the carriage, Seraphina Nightingale clutched a thick script from Easton, her frustration palpable even in her tone. After a long pause, she shot a look at the Attendant. “Is that what Lad's The is saying?” Upon receiving a nod from the Attendant, she tossed the script down onto her lap, and Easton opened the carriage door and headed towards the Master’s Chamber. Seeing Seraphina Nightingale's furious expression, the Attendant hurriedly tried to intervene, but was too late—Seraphina marched right in front of Easton and stormed into the Master’s Chamber, slamming the door shut behind her. Within the Resting Chamber, the Soldiers were startled by the slamming door, instantly abandoning their tasks. They spun around with surprised expressions, staring wide-eyed at the furious Seraphina Nightingale. Ignoring the Soldiers present, Seraphina strode directly up to Damien Blackthorn, smacking the script onto the table with a loud slap. She planted her hands on her hips and confronted him, “Damien Blackthorn, don’t think just because I’m not afraid of Dame Celestia that you can push me around. If I’m abusing my power to cut his scenes, do you think I wouldn’t have enough dirt on me to drink plenty of ale? You’ve clearly been colluding with Master Thorne…” The tension in Damien Blackthorn's face darkened at her words. Just as she was about to continue, he reached over, picked up the script she had just slammed onto the table, and tossed it right at her feet. He parted his lips, speaking coolly, “Get out.” Seraphina glared at him, eyes blazing. The audacity to speak to her this way! Not one Soldier in the room dared speak up, all too terrified to question her, the Lady of Nightingale. “Are you kidding me?!” she seethed, “He’s not going to let this go! He’s going to make my life a living hell tomorrow if I don’t convince you to add back all his scenes!” Mistress Elara and the Attendants watched the furious exchange between Seraphina and Damien. As Seraphina escalated her tone, even Damien looked intimidated at the prospect of crossing her, raising questions about how anyone dared confront Young Master Blackthorn this way. Was Seraphina losing her mind, threatening a Blackthorn soldier with such hostility? Finally, Damien turned his gaze back to Seraphina. As he did so, he stood up slowly, closing the distance between them as he approached. Seraphina held her ground, defiantly staring back without taking a step back. Damien edged closer, a devilish smile creeping onto his face. The two Soldiers nearby could hear him say in a low voice that only Seraphina could catch, “Unhappy? Then let’s see if you’ll regret who ends up carrying whom.” With that, he brushed past her, heading straight for the door to the Resting Chamber. As the door slammed behind him, Seraphina turned, fuming at Damien’s daring attitude. The words he had just spoken echoed in her mind, enough to bring her to the brink of frustration; she could have bitten her own teeth in anger. In a fit, she kicked the script he had tossed at her feet as if it were Damien Blackthorn himself. “Ugh! Damien Blackthorn! You're going to pay for this, you jerk!” With her rage pouring out, Seraphina didn't even spare the Soldiers a glance as she stomped toward the door again, slamming it behind her with even more force than before. The amplitude of her anger sent a tremor through the Resting Chamber, causing the Soldiers inside to shudder. They couldn’t help but think how challenging it would be to manage a production like this—clearly, the Lady of Nightingale was not someone to be trifled with!
Chapter 2
On a crisp September morning, Easton was abuzz with excitement as St. Thorn Academy opened its gates for a new school year. Cars lined up outside, but one stood out—a low-key black sedan parked steadily at the entrance. The door swung open, and out stepped Seraphina Nightingale, her black cap tilted jauntily over her eyes. She sported a simple, faded graphic tee and sleek black leggings, her sneakers crunching against the gravel as she leaped to the ground. She was ready for the first day, her spirit as vibrant as the autumn leaves. Seraphina was on her way to join her classmate, Damien Blackthorn, in the promotional activities for their upcoming play, “Gentle Wind Glen.” Although the campaign had already kicked off, most people only knew of Damien's role as the male lead, while the identity of the female lead remained a closely-guarded secret. For now, she reveled in this anonymity and bounced confidently toward the Academy Gate. Just as she made it a few paces, the harsh sound of screeching tires broke the morning calm. Suddenly, a group of eager fans and journalists erupted from the gate, rushing toward her with a frenzied enthusiasm that left her startled. “Whoa!” Seraphina gasped, her heart racing. She instinctively turned to escape the oncoming crowd, but fate intervened. Before she could pivot, she collided with a soldier charging past her. In that split second, balance betrayed her, and she tumbled backward. In those moments of panic, Seraphina braced herself for impact, instinctively covering her face. *This cannot be how my day ends,* she thought. *If I get hurt, Damien will have the perfect excuse to cut my scenes!* But contrary to her fears, there was no hard ground beneath her. Instead, she found herself cradled in a warm embrace. “Ah!!!!” Seraphina cried out, completely caught off guard. The clarity of her surroundings faded as a chorus of excited whispers and camera shutters filled the air. Stunned into silence, she barely processed the sensation of being held. As if sensing her shock, a deep voice teased from above her: “How long do you plan to stay in my arms?” Seraphina blinked up, startled by the magnetic sound—the familiarity of it sending shivers down her spine. She chastised herself, struggling to regain her composure and climb out of his hold. “Sorry! I—thank you...” Before she could finish, her gaze locked onto the amused eyes of Damien Blackthorn. Every word slipped away as she wrestled with the realization that all the commotion had sprung from him. *Why are you the center of all this?* she inwardly fumed, irritation flashing across her face. Damien, however, appeared unfazed by the chaos surrounding them. Leaning casually against his car, he stroked his chin, a playful smirk lining his lips. “What’s with that look? Are you falling for me?” Seraphina fought the urge to spit in his face at his arrogance. Yet as the crowd of reporters and fans descended upon them, she recognized that acting on her feelings could result in tabloid headlines she would rather avoid. Just then, the reporters pounced, shoving microphones in Damien's direction. The questions flew fast and furious. “Young Master Blackthorn, is this actress your girlfriend?” one shouted. “Are you attending the academy here for your girlfriend?” another followed, eyes wide with anticipation. “Do you have plans to go public with this relationship?” A knot tightened in Seraphina’s stomach as they continued. Just when all seemed to spiral into chaotic speculation, a voice cut through the noise. “Young Master Blackthorn! I heard you're filming a new project, and the female lead hasn't been revealed yet—is this her?” Seraphina remained silent, realizing how right that question felt—wasn’t that the core of the moment right now? She shot a glare at Damien, whose expression was barely concealing a burst of laughter. In the heart of that murmuring crowd, as the journalists and fans vied for pieces of their story, Seraphina felt the weight of the expectations hovering above her and Damien. And in that delicate space, she could already sense that their lives—an open book—would be scrutinized more than she ever anticipated.
Chapter 3
Uncle Guardian was currently intrigued by the news surrounding Damien Blackthorn’s new play. Gareth the Scribe had made some compelling points, but Uncle Guardian was still more focused on the more scandalous rumors: that Damien Blackthorn and Seraphina Nightingale were an item, which was the juiciest gossip around. He completely disregarded Gareth's comments and leaned in once again to ask Damien whether he was indeed dating Seraphina. Seraphina assessed the situation. To avoid raising suspicion, she stepped back slightly, reluctantly putting on a face full of gratitude as she turned to Damien and said, “Thank you for your assistance, Young Master Blackthorn!” Her expression, however, didn't fool anyone: she was fuming. Seraphina quietly rated her own performance in her mind; acting was a basic skill for someone in her profession. The moment she spoke, those gossiping around them, including Gareth and a cluster of admirers, seemed to lose their doubts. They began to consider that Seraphina was simply someone who needed saving rather than a romantic partner of Damien. Just as Uncle Guardian was beginning to believe their tale, Damien Blackthorn stood up straight, hands casually stuffed in his pockets, a pose that screamed confidence. The casual gesture prompted another wave of gasps and squeals from the onlookers. Seraphina rolled her eyes internally, thinking to herself, Of course, he has to be the center of attention! With a calculated pace, Damien strolled up to Seraphina, leaned down slightly to meet her gaze, and said clearly, “Oh? That’s not what you said that night.” “Wow!” Seraphina was rendered speechless by his unexpected remark, as were all the soldiers around them, left only to utter astonished exclamations. As the subject of this awkward moment, Seraphina felt her face flush crimson, momentarily forgetting her surroundings. Fueled by a mix of embarrassment and anger, she pointed at Damien, exclaiming, “What the heck are you talking about?!” “What am I talking about?” Damien replied smoothly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, continuing loud enough for Gareth and the others to hear, “Are you saying it wasn’t you who entered my Chamber that night?” “Um... I...” Seraphina was caught off guard, unable to speak as she pointed back and forth between herself and him, “You!” Taking note of her struggle, Damien raised an eyebrow at her, fully aware of the audience watching, enjoying himself immensely. Realization struck Seraphina: he had set this up to bait her! Fuming yet cunning, she offered him a sly grin. With a delicate smile, she wrapped her fingers around his arm and, with all her might, stomped down hard on his foot, grinding her heel into it. “Ow!” Damien's sudden jolt surprised everyone. He leaned slightly, trying to mask his pain, yet it was evident in his expression. Despite appearing to outsiders as simply two close companions in an intimate embrace, Seraphina could feel the tension in Damien's grip as he held her shoulder, aware of how much he was actually suffering.
Chapter 4
Seraphina Nightingale swiftly knocked Damien Blackthorn's hand aside, mimicking his eyebrow raise and retorted, “Young Master Blackthorn, please have some self-respect!” With that, she slung her YoungScribe bag over her shoulder and, using her petite frame, deftly maneuvered through the group of Soldiers, gleefully making her escape. Damien Blackthorn, surrounded by his Admirers and Gareth the Scribe, found himself unable to pursue her. He could only watch Seraphina's figure disappear into the distance, muttering a curse under his breath. She hurried to the Teaching Hall, standing before the new classroom for her junior year, searching for her assigned seat. As she approached the room, she could hear the raucous chatter from within. Stepping inside, she headed straight for her usual spot. Unfortunately, she had arrived late for the Eland examination last year, and thanks to the odd number of Soldiers in the class, she was the only one without a desk partner—a rather lonely predicament. Still, she was happy to have the solitary desk to herself and could relish the solitude. Just as she settled in, a Lad sitting in front of her turned around, excitement glossing his face. “Hey! Did you hear? Damien Blackthorn is coming to study at our Academy!” Seraphina pulled out a tissue from the box on her desk, wiped it absentmindedly, and shot him a dismissive look. “And? What’s it to me?” She couldn’t believe her misfortune—running into Damien Blackthorn at the Academy Gate had been a fluke. Was he seriously going to attend their Academy? The Lad stared at her in disbelief and exclaimed, “No way, Seraphina! You can’t possibly be indifferent to him! He’s the youngest and most popular guy at the Academy! Hello! Show some excitement!” Damien Blackthorn wasn't just riding on his looks to get by; his talent was also noteworthy, making him an object of admiration by so many—both boys and girls alike. Playing along, Seraphina feigned surprise and exclaimed, “Wow, really? Damien is coming to our Academy? How awesome!” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, but it was lost on her class. As soon as she spoke, a quiet fell over the class, with all eyes glued to her, their expressions a mix of mockery, sympathy, and curiosity. Seraphina quickly realized what she had just done—she hadn’t meant it like that; it was just a joke! Now, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole to escape those piercing gazes. Just when things couldn’t get worse, Mistress Elara’s voice rang out from the front, the hint of a smile in her tone, “Seraphina Nightingale, while I understand your enthusiasm regarding Young Master Blackthorn joining our Academy, I think it’s best if you keep your excitement in check, alright?” Seraphina froze, her head snapping towards the podium, her cheeks flushing. When her eyes finally met Mistress Elara’s, all warmth and kindness, she inadvertently found herself staring into the piercing gaze of Damien Blackthorn.
Chapter 5
"Ugh!" Seraphina Nightingale glared at Uncle, feeling an unbearable wave of embarrassment wash over her. She swore she could see Damien Blackthorn’s eyes sparkling with mockery—raw, unfiltered laughter at her expense! Mistress Elara, the teacher who oversaw the twelve graders, seemed unfazed by the adoration that the Scholars showered upon their star. After finishing her teasing of Seraphina, she turned to Damien with a smile. "Alright, Damien, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?" "Sure," Damien replied, nodding slightly before addressing the students crowding the room. "I’m Damien Blackthorn." His introduction was brief, polished, and utterly devoid of embellishments. As he stood at the front, his unbothered demeanor earned him the graceful title of "Sir" from the girls in the classroom. Suddenly, booming applause erupted from the room. If the cheers were coming from the young women, they had all turned red with excitement, each calling out, "Young Master Blackthorn! We love you!" Inside Easton Eland, a chaotic scene unfolded. Watching the girls go wild, Seraphina couldn’t shake the hope that her earlier quip would fade from memory—that maybe, just maybe, Damien might overlook her comment. But, of course, fate had other plans, as the very thing she wished wouldn’t happen began to spiral out of control. As the girls continued to holler, Mistress Elara realized the classroom was on the brink of pandemonium. "Okay, everyone, let's settle down. Damien, why don’t you choose a seat now?" she suggested, taking charge to regain control over her exuberant students, who were practically bouncing off the walls. The female students, upon noticing Damien was about to find a desk, scrambled to shove their male classmates aside, desperate to make room for their idol. The guys, looking utterly forsaken, could hardly believe the disdain directed at them. Glancing around, Mistress Elara narrowed her eyes as she saw Damien still hesitating. "Damien, why aren’t you choosing your seat?" she asked, perplexed. His gaze swept across the room, stopping at Seraphina, who was practically hiding behind her desk in an effort to disappear from the chaos, as well as a few empty seats at the back left untouched. Eerily, as he surveyed the chaos, his eyes locked in on Seraphina. "Well then..." he started, casting a curious glance toward the rest of the class while those girls who had been fussing over him fell silent, waiting with bated breath for what their crush would say next. The sight of this devoted audience made Seraphina want to groan. "This boy is really going to make a mess of things," she thought to herself. Damien finally spoke, grinning slightly. "If that student loves me so much, I guess I'll sit beside her!" he announced, casually pointing right at Seraphina. She froze, her heart racing. The moment her eyes met his, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as if her secret had been spotlighted. Her irritation bubbled, and she wanted to punch him for that smug, "I'm just being nice" look he wore. But before she could even act on that thought, a dozen angry glares from the other girls felt like daggers piercing her. With each stiffening moment, she could feel their eyes boring into her, boiling with resentment. Damien walked straight towards her desk, dropping his bag nonchalantly onto the table before leaning a casual arm against it. This simple motion sent ripples of excitement through the classroom as whispers and giggles ran rampant. “Class, settle down!” Mistress Elara raised her hands in an attempt to restore order. "From today forward, Damien Blackthorn is officially a student in our class. So let’s give him the space he needs to adjust, alright?" Laughter echoed in response to her tone. Although many students glanced back at Damien, the initial chaos began to subside somewhat, blurring the sharp edges of earlier pandemonium. With all eyes still glued on the new student sitting next to her, Seraphina felt like she would wither into her seat. How could she have ever wished that Damien would just forget about her tiny jab? It seemed like fate had other plans entirely. The class seemed to normalize, but the effects of that introduction had just begun to realize in amusing ways. Little did she know, her slice of life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.
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