It was early evening, and Ron decided to go shopping, his weekly ritual since moving to Gardeniabay. Dante at first wanted Lady to tag along with him as a precaution. The butler, after all, warned him about the unusual appearance of monsters. Still, he didn’t want to take his own warning to heart. Dante wasn’t sure which was more stubborn, Lady or Ron himself. ‘I was a war-mage, young master. I’m capable of protecting myself, I don’t need a dog,’ he said, though Dante suspected Ron feared Lady more than any monster. Lady, on the other hand, didn’t want to go as long as Dante was going to stay inside. In the end, Dante tagged along. It wasn’t how he imagined spending the evening, but at the very least, he could buy some books that had just come out. The town of Gardeniabay was built entirely as a student town, under Florent’s jurisdiction. According to Veyra, before the academy was built, it was a small village renowned for its gardenias. The field of flowers was still present, but it was mostly used during the Flower Festival in early spring. Those flowers, though, were still present and dear to townsfolk. Most shops and boutiques were decorated with gardenias.

  Around the stone streets, stalls with various products were still present, even though Autumn's cold was starting to creep around the corner. In the end, Dante and Ron went their separate ways. The book-store and the grocery were located in two different directions. They agreed to meet at a café on the edge of town, near their home, in approximately two hours. Dante didn’t mind waiting as Ron said that their coffee was great, and it was the place where he bought the one he makes at home.

  Lady stayed near him the entire time he was wandering the streets. The shopkeeper hadn’t let her go inside, so she waited patiently for her owner to buy what he wanted. The shopkeeper even commented on her as a strange yet obedient creature. They called her a creature every time she accompanied Dante to book-shopping, like they were physically unable to call her a dog.

  When he approached the cafe, he always wandered by on his way home. The sweet smell of coffee overwhelmed the air and made Dante relax a little, but upon seeing who was sitting on the tables outside, exactly where he wanted to sit with Lady, he wanted to turn back and look for Ron. This was too coincidental. Just my luck, at least Iza’s not here… – he thought with a sigh. Iza stayed with the rest of the ghosts in the mansion. Before he could make even a small step back, the gold apocalypse waved at him with too much energy to be truly a student. Peter, who was sitting with his back facing Dante, looked his way with curiosity, which was quickly wiped by an image of horror.

  Dante walked over with the intent to choose a different table, but Kelit stopped him. By some unfunny twist of fate, the young lord ended up sitting with two commoners, one terrified of him and the other… it was hard to pinpoint what the other thought of Dante. That he was entertainment, maybe.

  “What a coincidence, we only just got here ourselves. It must be fate!” the blond man chirped. He looked at Lady rather curiously. “That’s a big dog,” he was probably the only person whose first reaction hadn’t been fear towards her. Peter, on the other hand, sat on the edge of his seat, ready to bolt at any moment, and trying to be as far as possible from both Dante and Lady.

  “Her name is Lady,” he just said, not addressing the comment about fate. He nagged the creature with his leg under the seat, so she wouldn’t look as intimidating as usual.

  Soon, a waiter came to take their orders. Lady shifted a little under the seat and table, like she wanted to stretch. The waiter was wary when he realised who one of his clients was, but still acted professionally, or maybe even more than usual. Red eyes were a feature that made spotting a member of the Crimson family easy.

  “Please put everything on his bill,” Kelit gestured with his hand toward Dante when they ordered. For a second, Dante was dumbfounded. The audacity of this man! Firstly, he forced Dante to sit with them, and now he made him pay for everything. He should be angry, but Peter’s face was too amusing at that moment, and it made him forget to protest. Also, he wouldn’t give Kelit any satisfaction, so he only shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Crimson,” Peter mumbled. Dante just nodded, still amused by his expression. He looked like a beaten-up rabbit caught between predators. His eye darted from Dante to Kelit, like he didn't know if those two would start fighting at any moment.

  “That's a common courtesy that the person with the most money pays,” Kelit's grin had some sly edges. It annoyed Dante even more, but he had to admit that sitting at the same table with someone other than Ron was a nice experience.

  “I haven't said anything,” he gave Kelit an unamused look.

  “What brought you here then, Iceheart? It's just a normal coffee shop, nothing as fancy as your title.” The brown-haired man just now looked like his soul had escaped somewhere far away. What Kelit said was clearly a mockery, and the nickname that the other man heard for the first time added a nail to the coffin.

  “I’m waiting for my butler and will be drinking coffee,” Dante deadpanned. Peter relaxed a little. “And before you start, I drink their coffee at home too.”

  “Hmmm… So is it any good, Iceheart?” before he could answer, Peter voiced, while playing with his hair out of nervousness:

  “I told you it is the best in town,” Kelit rolled his eyes playfully.

  “Yes, yes, but I believe in the refined testes of a noble.”

  “There's nothing refined about them,” Dante sighed and tapped his fingers on the table.

  “I don't believe you, Iceheart. By the way, why are you waiting for that butler of yours? You can just go home by yourself,” as he was sitting right next to the young lord, he leaned closer. The idea of personal space must not exist for him – thought Dante. Lady wrapped her tail around Dante’s leg possessively.

  “There was a monster attack lately. I feel better when Ron’s not walking alone.”

  “Don't you have other servants?” Dante shook his head, and this was the first time he saw Kelit looking surprised. But the unflattering smile quickly returned. “I would have never expected that. But giving your charming personality…” he cut off himself by chuckling. “But don't be discouraged, you still have many qualities, Iceheart,” he winked at Dante.

  “Wait, monster attack? What do you mean…Lord Crimson?” Peter asked, for the first time, really looking at him. He looked concerned.

  “Ron told me about it, but I don't exactly know what happened.” The waiter chose that exact moment to return with their coffee, and as he was giving out their orders, he answered:

  “Your mother didn't tell you, Pete?” he must have known the student, as they were both from Gardeniabay. And it's a rather small town. “A lone merchant was attacked on his way here from the academy. He was lucky Captain Alera found him on her patrol. It was one of the biggest monsters that only war-mages or mages from Mist City have a chance against. Florent’s war-mages are monitoring the situation. You can see more of them around the academy these days.”

  “She probably didn't want to scare you, Pete,” voiced Kelit, before the young commoner could ask. Dante guessed that the gold-haired man must have tagged along with Peter for a home visit.

  “There's nothing to worry about,” Dante said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his black coffee. “The war-mages and Alera have a blessing of Florent’s divine beast,” the same lamb that always nuzzles him on tea-visits. As a duke's son, he has to occasionally visit the other Duke's family on whose land he's currently living.

  “Oh, right,” Peter breathed out in relief. The waiter excused himself, and while he was walking away, Lady snored, unhappy that she wasn't included in coffee drinking. Pete nearly jumped in fright upon hearing that low sound. He looked at the terrifying dog, and a wave of realisation crashed onto him. For a second, it looked like he was fighting a battle inside. A battle between his curiosity and the fear of offending Dante. “What actually are the divine beasts, Lord Crimson?”

  “I’m not exactly sure myself. Some old writings say that they’re creatures of the other world, that exist between ours and the Afterlife; there's no name to it. And that they are here because of the familiar contact. Those beasts aren't exactly talkative, as they're not the strongest. Some learned to write, sadly, not a case for Grimm. My brother says the cat lounges around more than it's helpful,” he explained. It was probably the longest that two commoners have ever heard him talking. Dante himself always liked those divine beasts, and with reciprocity. They felt familiar to him in more ways than just that his family’s contract, and just like ghosts like to stick around him. “They're not exactly magical…more supernatural,” he added after some thought.

  “Not magical?” Kelit repeated in a whisper what he spoke his thoughts out loud, with a frown. That expression looked true on him, like he actually found the subject curious, but not amusing like he did with Dante. But again, the smile quickly reappeared on his handsome face. “Wow, Iceheart. That was the longest I heard you talking. I must have melted those walls a little!”

  Peter looked at him like he didn't believe his ears and again wanted to disappear, while Dante just gave him a cold glance, meaning Alright, you will hear even less from me now. And Lady, put her head on Dante’s knee and gave him a look far too close to asking Can I eat him?

  “I feel somewhat wounded now,” despite his words, Kelit chuckled, amused.

  That was the moment when Ron arrived at their meeting spot. Upon seeing his master sitting with two young men who weren’t a part of the family, he smiled. He quickly realised that the one whose arm nearly touched Dante’s was the infamous one, the young master told him about. The annoying one. Now he could understand why. With all those high walls Dante built, it must have been new to him that someone who had never seen behind them try to strip them down, rock by rock. From Ron’s perspective, Dante had always needed someone like that.

  When Dante spotted him in turn, he excused himself, leaving money on the table. Probably enough for Kelit and Peter to order one more apple pie. And he rushed to meet Ron halfway, more than ready to escape. Ron sighed. This child of mine needs to take baby steps or else he would combust. Of course, that monster didn't lose her way around – he thought as Lady rushed after her master, wagging her tail. Happy to leave the blond man behind and far away from what's hers.

  The night was cold, as autumn nights tend to be. Dreams are usually restless things like the weather. As for Dante’s one, it was nothing specific, but at the moment when he dreamt, it seemed familiar and real. Like a memory long forgotten.

  There was no mist, sun, or moon around, yet the sky was so bright. Full of little stars or something that pretended to be them. It was eerie yet beautiful. The world around him resembled nature, but not quite as living knows it. Rocks were rocks, trees were trees, but in a strange way, like a mirror image. More familiar than normal trees. There were no humans or animals in sight, at least for what Dante could see. It was like nothing truly alive could go there. Still, there was a presence near him. Something or someone was talking and standing next to him. But he could neither see nor hear them, or rather, he could, but only for a moment before his memories slipped away and those images disappeared from his mind. He wasn't afraid, as it wasn't a nightmare. He felt strangely at home.

  The early morning rain woke him up before Ron could. He decided to stay in bed a little longer, listening to a rhythm of droplets on a windowsill, a song that only nature could make. He could also hear his butler bustling in the kitchen. If it wasn't for that, he would think that he woke up in the middle of the night. Lady was lying on his legs, not giving him any warmth, as she was no real dog. Other ghosts, as they don't dream, left him to rest.

  A strange feeling overwhelmed him. He couldn't remember what he dreamed, but the air still felt inhabited. As if someone – or something – had lingered and only just gone. And so he wondered if it was really the rain that woke him up.

  If he were in danger, Lady would make a ruckus protecting him, but she was still lying without any movement with her eyes open, fixed on him. He might have been unnerved by her clever stare, had it been the first time she did this. But Lady never knew how to act like a real dog. She acted on instinct as most wraiths do. Corrupted spirits aren't really domestic like other ghosts, at least that was what Dante could guess after leaving with the ability to see them for his entire life. Most of his data was still mostly based on those strange ‘gut feelings’ he sometimes had.

  Soon, he reluctantly got out of bed. Walking to the desk to take a new uniform out of the wardrobe next to it, he realised that there was a candle on it. He could swear that it was on his bedside table, as he has a habit of reading late. Ghosts must have messed with it – he brushed it off and moved on to his morning routine.

  When he was all dressed up, he nearly bumped into Ron at his bedroom door. The butler came to wake him up.

  “I wanted to let you sleep in, young master,” he smiled softly. “Guess you didn't need to. Breakfast is ready, and the carriage will be here soon. I recommend that you take an umbrella. It looks like it will be raining all day.”

  Ron may have been right about the rain. It was literally purring when he arrived at the academy. He realised that more people were present. In the main hall, where everyone was shaking off their umbrellas, stood men and women in uniforms with a crest of one single peony. The crest of the Florent family. War-mages were guarding the entrance to the academy. This way, at least no noble family would freak out over their child's safety.

  Some of the war-mages present were younger than Dante. They were trained by the military forces of one of the Four Families. Dante remembered that before his mother's death, he had friends among the children of his family's war-mages. Their purpose was to protect the people of the country from monsters that were ‘born’ out of mana waste. The more waste, the stronger monsters were created, so the monsters around the academy must have been strong, maybe not the Mist City level, but still strong.

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  People called those creatures monsters as they couldn't find any more fitting words. Those things were driven solely by bloodlust, as they didn't know what was their purpose in life. Being stronger than a standard human, they tried to stand at the top of the food chain.

  When Dante walked further into the hall, someone approached him. It was a woman with short hair, brushed behind her ears, and a strong, unyielding gaze. Her face was adorned with a dozen little scars. Her uniform looked just a tiny bit fancier than the others. It wasn't their first time meeting, as he visited Florent’s mansion and she always had something to report to the Duke. Alera was her name, a famous captain, who was rumoured to be at a Sage’s level.

  She saluted him, giving respect without bowing her head. Dante liked her, as she was practical and didn't mind being brief, but honest.

  “Young Lord Crimson, Duke and Duchess Florent, along with young lady Alicia, who asked me not to mention that she doesn't want to pass the message herself…” only did she realise when the words left her mouth. “I will have to apologise to her.”

  “I won't tell her, as I don't want to see her too,” he honestly reassured her, on which she smiled.

  “Thank you, young lord. Like I was saying: Florent's family is asking you to take their invitation for tea tomorrow afternoon. They want to explain the situation.” It’s really not necessary – Dante sighed inwardly, but nodded his head. “Duke also wanted you to know that the Lamb misses you,” a smile played on her face when she said it. “Sorry for taking up your time, young lord. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She saluted again and, not waiting for his answer, walked off. It wasn't like he really had any choice in that matter. An invitation from the Duke himself couldn't be brushed off.

  As she returned to her duties, Dante could move on with his day. For now he decided to check the scores from the last test. He made his way to where the most students were gathered. They all acted completely normal as if there was no monster threat, and those soldiers were just good to look at. Some were looking conflicted, some happy while looking at their score, but most of them were gathered around the board on which Dante’s class and year were hanging. The whispers started to spread like a flood.

  Dante somehow managed to take a look. He expected to see his own name at the end of the list. His tactic never failed him. And there he was with a score of 4%. But underneath his name, there was another one. The exact situation he was trying to prevent. Kelit Merrin score: 0%. How in the world is this even possible? – thought Dante – It was a multiple-choice test; unless he didn't write anything, it is not possible!

  He was slightly concerned and confused, but his face didn't show any changes on the outside. Was it deliberate, too? What, is he trying to race me to the last place? – he would shake his head at that thought. Not everything revolved around him after all. What if Kelit really didn't put any answers on the sheet? Or put some and they just were wrong? – Am I getting crazy because of him? – he needed to confirm his suspicions with the professor.

  He decided to go straight to his room before the lectures started. Izodora found him when he was entering the classroom. She looked at him with an assessing gaze and a smirk playing on her lips. The professor was there, getting ready for his day full of work. It was a man slightly younger than Duke Crimson, with his hairline slowly disappearing. Upon seeing Dante, he seemed surprised, but greeted him with a professional smile:

  “Good morning, Lord…I mean, Mr. Crimson,” he quickly corrected himself. In theory, everyone on the Academy’s grounds was equal, and such titles didn't have any meaning. In theory, all things sound great. “What brings you here? Is it about the results?”

  “Yes,” the surprise on the man's face only deepened, he was accustomed to Dante’s low score, and it wasn't like the young man before him cared ever before. “But not about mine. Mr. Merrin, to be precise.”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose…”

  “Yes, I know,” Dante cut off the professor rather harshly, but it wasn't like the man could retort; he only sighed. “Just this question: did he leave the sheet blank?”

  The professor for a moment appeared conflicted, but in the end shook his head: “No, just all the answers were wrong.”

  Dante thought for a moment, while Iza looked at the material that the professor had on his desk with an amused smile glued to her face.

  “Then it's statistically impossible.” In his irritation, he could exaggerate a little, but continued: “If someone doesn't know the answers, they can always choose whatever. They'll always score something, especially since some questions give a 50/50 probability. The person with all the wrong answers either knows all the answers and is doing it deliberately or is just that unlucky.” He declared after a brief silence. The man looked at him with his brows furrowed, grasping the situation himself. It was something he wouldn't have looked into, but everything the young lord said sounded logical.

  “Even if what you're saying is true, Mr. Crimson, it’s not like we have any evidence…and who in their right mind fails a test deliberately?” Dante shrugged while the professor had another realization: “By that logic, your score is also nearly impossible to achieve…”

  “It doesn't matter,” Dante cut him off again. “Would you be that kind and put the question with all the right answers on the next test?”

  “I can, but what for?” This morning must have been a confusing one for him, as a wrinkle between his brows deepened.

  Just want to test a theory that this is also about me… – he thought while nodding goodbye with his stony face. Without more words or answers, he walked out of the classroom with Iza tugging at his arm.

  “Oh wow, you were interested in someone…someone living, I mean. That's new,” she poked his cheek.

  “You know why I was keeping that low score. Now it's all for nothing,” he whispered back to her, denying her words. Though a little worry crippled his mind, all those who were at the bottom of the board didn't last long in the academy before his little scheme. He only hoped that the student council would leave Kelit alone.

  He was one of the first to enter the lecture hall. Those who arrived by carriages were usually early, while those living in dormitories sometimes appeared late. The first lecture was again a history lesson. This year was full of that subject. Along with languages, logic, and magic. Rest was left for majors.

  He found the seat and watched the droplets fall down the glass. Behind the window, he could see soldiers with umbrellas and a few unhappy ghosts. Rain may no longer make them wet, but without anyone to look at, they had nothing to do, and they couldn't wander freely inside. Dante could help them resolve this problem, but he long swore to himself that he would only get tangled up with messes of the dead if it was absolutely necessary.

  “Now, Hans, what goes around comes around,” mocked the ghost girl, looking at one ghost in particular, who seemed to sense the attention and look up at their window. Iza gave him a cheerful wave while his face twisted in annoyance, and he showed them the middle finger. “That's what got him impaled, I’m sure of it!”

  The commotion at the door made Dante snatch his gaze from the ghost’s quarrel. He could guess what, or rather who, was the centre of it. Most nobles in the room started laughing, but others, like Alicia and her group of ladies, looked unamused. Kelit greeted the day completely soaked. It was clear that it wasn't because of the rain, as soap bubbles graced his hair and clothes. At least the water they’ve purred on him wasn't dirty, he won't smell badly… – thought Dante worried more about the well-being of his nose than Kelit’s. As he didn't look like it bothered him. It looked more like he was starting a new fashion trend, with a big grin and head raised confidently.

  He walked over to take a seat, with Peter following him quietly like a shadow, overlooked by nearly everyone, which he was thankful for. Before sitting down, the blond man stole Dante's jacket that was hanging on his chair. He took off his own and put Dante's dry on. They were the same size, it appeared. It was so quick that Dante didn't even have time to process the situation. The entire room suddenly inhaled sharply. In truth, Dante wasn't the one who cared about the jacket; it was the professor who wanted him to hide the presence of his revolver.

  “You must have smelled badly; they gave you a wash-up.” If only his gaze could kill…on the other hand, it would be fatal, with far too many dead bodies lying around.

  “Yep, now I smell like lavender! Do you like lavender, cause I do?” He chirped, taking his seat.

  “Now I don't.”

  Kelit laughed out loud. He took a foam from his chest and blew it toward Dante like a kiss. The foam landed on the young lord’s nose. Iza, in the corner, looked like she was having the best time. If ghosts were capable of crying, there would be tears of laughter in her eyes. Dante rolled his eyes, but his expression didn't crack. I will never give you the satisfaction, you silver-tongued moron! – Dante eyed his now ruined jacket. He will have to get a new one.

  He brushed the foam from his nose. The motion made the revolver in the arm holder shift, catching the light. Suddenly, everyone had something better to do than look in their direction. Everyone, besides one pair of eyes from the front row that had lingered a second too long on Dante’s revolver. The golden pin on their lapel caught the light before they turned away unnoticed by most. Class soon became lively again, with Lady Florent at the centre of attention.

  “Can I take a look at it?” Kelit pointed at Dante’s weapon, “I never had a firearm in my hands.” That sentence sounded strangely truthful, not like Kelit’s usual tone.

  “No,” Dante looked him up and down. “You look like someone who shouldn't be trusted with anything lethal.”

  For a moment, the blond man looked surprised, like he thought it was impossible to make a guess like that. In the end, he cleared his throat and, with a smile, said:

  “You're not the first to say that, Iceheart.” Dante realised that he had never called him that nickname when they had an audience. Maybe, just maybe, he knew how to keep some boundaries.

  “Well, with the way you act, I agree,” whispered Peter. Neither Kelit nor Dante was supposed to hear it, but he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was.

  “He?! What do you mean: the way I act?!” Kelit wasn't angry, more confused, like he really didn't know what both of the men meant. For a heartbeat, he looked like a child who’d been told off without knowing why. The expression vanished as quickly as it came, buried under another easy smile. Peter raised his hands in defence, while Dante snorted in amusement. He quickly covered it, clearing his throat. Like on cue, the professor walked in, thanks to that, Peter took his reaction as giving them a signal to shut up, while Kelit seemed to catch that little snort of laughter. It was out of Dante’s created character, so the man eyed him curiously, with a smile playing at his lips.

  From her corner, Iza tilted her head, amused and a little curious. Both of her favourite living humans acted a little differently than usual.

  The day went on, with Kelit’s mocking, unfunny jokes and constant flirting, that Dante slowly built immunity to. At the break, he again found himself in the library. When left alone, he realised something important. Ghosts were acting strangely. Not like their usual selves. It seemed that most of the ones who weren’t tied to the academy were gone, the responsive ones were shaken, but when asked, they couldn't say why, nor did they realise the strangeness in their act. The unresponsive, who usually performed the same task over and over with mechanical precision and blank expressions, actually took their time to stop and look at the ground.

  He sat in the corner trying to ignore them and that bitter taste their unusualness left in him. He decided to do a review for the next subject, but he couldn't keep his mind on track. When he was about to close his notes, a thin book landed on the table in front of him. He looked up and saw a ghost. An old librarian, who never responded. She still looked like she didn't see him. “Thank you?” He whispered, not wanting to be impolite, but the ghost didn't seem to hear him. She moved through him, making his entire body shudder. When ghosts passed through someone, the feeling was cold and unpleasant, but it never affected anyone badly, since those ghosts weren't strong enough to touch. Then how did she…? – He looked at the book in front of him in confusion – How did that ghost move it? Has she become stronger? More importantly, why? – he asked himself, while examining the book.

  It was thin, with a colourful cover. It looked used to the point that its pages started to tear. Dante recognised the book as a children's storybook from Andar, on which the first-year students trained their pronunciation and reading skills. He never read it before, as he didn't need to train. Why would a ghost give it to him? He opened it in the first story titled: ‘The Crow and The Dove’.

  ‘Once there was a Dove, white like snow. It loved to fly around when spring flowers bloomed.

  Once there was a Crow, black like night. It loved to sing when autumn leaves fell.

  They met one summer. Sharing stories and songs, the friendship grew, so they agreed to meet next summer.

  And soon the spring was gone, the Dove began to wait. It waited all summer, then autumn passed. Still without the trace of its Crow friend.

  “Where are you,’ the Dove lamented: ‘We promised!’ But no answer came.

  And soon winter, cold and unyielding, showed itself, and the Dove still waited.

  Once there were friends who made a promise. But not all promises can be fulfilled.

  Once there were friends who met again in winter. When the cold went stiff.

  ‘I was here the entire time. In Between, I waited for you! Now we can go There together!’ The Crow greeted its friend.

  And soon spring came, with new beautiful flowers, but there was no Dove to watch them bloom.’

  “What?” Dante voiced. “Now I understand why mum never read us Andar's stories,” he put the book down, looking around, trying to spot the ghost who had handed him the book. She was nowhere to be found. Is there a meaning to it? Or maybe she just remembered something? Is she getting better? – Dante was so lost in thought that he didn't realise when someone approached him. The person took the book from the table and began flipping its pages.

  “Pff…and you can understand those…patterns?” Dante blinked at the word patterns. No one called the Andar script that. The curious and familiar voice got him out of his little trance. When he looked to his side, Kelit was far too close to him, squinting at the alphabet like it might rearrange itself into the common tongue. Dante moved, along with his chair, away from the gold apocalypse.

  “Yes, my mother was Andar,” he answered, still uneasy after the strange experience.

  “Was?” Something like an understanding crossed Kelit’s face. The young lord just nodded. “So you’re reminiscing, reading children's books, maybe not so Iceheart?” his smile wasn't as mocking as usual.

  “She wasn't so cruel to read us those,” Keli’s smile widened, though a small furrow appeared between his brows. Dante sighed. “Andars believe in Death, you could read their stories at funerals and no one would bat an eye.” He explained like it was common knowledge…because it was common knowledge. Why Kelit didn't know about it, he had no idea, but this man was strange, as he had guessed at their first meeting.

  “So you just like children’s literature?” Dante gave him an unamused glance. Is he trying to cover his lack of common knowledge with mocks? – For a second, he wondered where exactly this man had studied or if he ever had.

  “No, but I thought you did, as you act like one. I just chose the wrong culture,” he retorted, calling Kelit a child right in the face. Kelit looked like a fish out of water. It was the first time Dante gave up and went with his schemes. Maybe because he was tired or wanted to distract himself from the unusual things, he didn't want to be part of.

  “I take back what I said.” Kelit’s usually self returned, but something was still odd, maybe a little softer. His smile became teasing. He leaned into Dante’s space, like he wasn't already in it: “You are a real Iceheart.” Here we go again – was the thought that played in Dante’s mind.