𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 1 -𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 & 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉

The moon hung in lonely silence, its pale light illuminating the city below—everything except the man standing at the edge of the rooftop.

“The thrill… How does it feel?” he murmured. “Haven't you always loved the wind tangling through your hair?”

The wind howled louder, tugging at his coat, threatening the man with a fall. But how could he, when his gaze remained locked onto his beloved?

The beloved whose throat trembled in his grasp. The beloved whose teary eyes carried hatred and disgust.

“Or was that a lie, as well...?" he whispered.

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, drifting into the night like a broken melody, as he watched the woman's crazed smile.

“Claire… I have missed you. I always have…”

For some reason, the man's voice sounded weak, almost fleeting, like the wind that had just settled. He closed his eyes, and his body trembled as memories whispered past him.

And when he opened them again —

The woman was no more.

{6:30 am, 26th May 2026}

The city of Linden, hailed as the city of universities, was filled with the electric energy of the young, especially towards the northern end where sat the best inside the best— [Frydor University] , the best university in the nation of Svardia. Surely, only the diligent would set foot inside such a place? Right? Perhaps, but there were always exceptions. A few kilometers from this acclaimed university sat a 22-year-old man, black-haired with a middle part that suited his sharp features.

His gaming chair rolled slightly as he thought with a dull gaze: What am I doing here?

The room smelled of burned leaves and herbal smoke, and inside it sat two individuals on gaming chairs, staring at a monitor, its screen lit with various colors. The red and gray seemed prevalent at the moment as the two hammered their keyboards.

Tap-tap! Tap-tap!

The screen at the top of the screen displayed a close score: 11:12. A single round decided it all.

“Noobs. Fucking noobs. All of them!” shouted one of them, a brown-haired man, brawny without a care about the time of the day. His uneven stubble, matched with thin red veins running through his eyes, made him look like a drug addict in his final stages. Not that he was not.

As the clicking and tapping continued, a message popped up on the screen, causing this man some rage issues.

Kingslayer1x4: {Delete the game. Minecraft is perfect for you.}

“Hahaha… Noir, I swear I'll kill them,” said the man, with a twisted smile on his face that said that he would perhaps truly do it if he could.

“Chill,” said Noir, who had an exhausted look on his face. He sighed, perhaps for the thousandth time, trying to focus on the game.

But the man was not one to chill; he could only rage. As he muttered, “Shut up!" his fingers danced on the keyboard with precision.

Hyper_Pot_Hooead_xxx1: {You ******* trash. If I were you, I would **** myself. 2 kills, 23 deaths. Even ******* Noir is above you. Have some shame.}

Hyper_Pot_Hooead_xxx1: {******* Censorship}

Moderation: {Due to excessive reports, “Hyper_Pot_Hooead_xxx1” has been muted for the rest of the game.}

Kingslayer1x4: {LOL!! Type faster.}

Kingslayers Queen: {Talk more, idiot!!}

Another usually silent player suddenly spoke through the voice chat in a thick accent, which dragged each word: “Suka Blyat. Brothers, shut up and play.”

And then obviously Noir had to interject just like always.

Noir123: {Chill, guys. It is just a game.}

Sadly, just like always, he received another message.

Moderation: {Due to excessive reports, “Noir123” has been muted for the rest of the game.}

"Fucker, you deserve it," came a curse from the side, cheering his friend's downfall.

Thus, muted, the game continued, with curses causing more friendly fire than the bullet itself. Footsteps rang; gunfire was heard. Second by second, a tension gripped Noir's fingers. And in such a way, finally, came the 1v3 between Noir and some random strangers.

The double scope of his sniper rifle whistled in his ears as he flicked ahead towards an overconfident idiot. Dead. Then, he pulled out his knife and dashed into the tunnels below while switching into an AK-47. As he ran ahead, just for a second, a head popped out trying to jiggle-peek, but that turned out to be a mistake.

Click-click! Bang!

Now, only the last enemy remained; one kill was all that was needed for a tie, but then, suddenly, a heavy feeling took over, the kind that suffocated the heart. Noir's focus wandered; his gaze turned distant. He took a light breath to calm it down.

But alas—

That is when the opponent fell from above.

Without the time to even compose himself, a bullet pierced his virtual head. Blood splattered inside the screen. And then obviously, rang the demotivating music.

“What the fuck were you doing? Wanted a kiss from him?” The man stood up from his seat, his reddened eyes shot at Noir. “The guy was literally still. Like…” His fingers stretched outward like he wanted to grab something before he finally sighed and added, “Forget it.”

Noir, on the other hand, placed his cheap headphones on the table and got up from his seat. But as he did, he caught his friend's creepy smile.

This fool wants another game.

Without a change in expression, he said, “Kevin, I am done.”

“Pch… Fucking top student.” Kevin's hands moved towards a box, which contained his herbal solution for stress. “Want a smoke?”

“Nah.” Noir's finger tingled for a second before he hesitated and said, “You should stop… focus more on—”

He didn’t continue—Kevin's expression was enough. Turning towards the door, his foot brushed against the wooden floor. A few steps later, he stopped and muttered, "Stop being so fucking pissed off. It is just—" He held his tongue, as he exhaled.

Soon, his hands twisted the metal knob; it was slightly oily. Just as he exited the room, he heard, “I know…” along with a silent, “Focus on yourself… Fucker.”

Thud-!

The white walls outside reflected some light; unfortunately, it couldn’t capture the slight smile on Noir's face. Streching his stiff back, Noir thought, Okay. Breakfast. Light jog. College.

Without further thought, his body moved into action. Walking past the door to his right, he turned right from where the wall ended. Then, moving towards the kitchen, he started his daily routine.

Sizzle-sizzle! Yawn!

“Hey, hey, hey, one for me as well,” said a chirpy voice, with too much energy for the time of the day.

Without looking backwards, Noir said, “Nah…”

The man leaned in closer, revealing his chubby face. This man was Rory, who Noir thought was the most ferocious glutton.

“Come on, man. I beg thee. Thine omelet is the best.”

“Nah…”

Rory sighed, but then, with a serious look on his face, added, “No... reply still?”

The air turned cold, and Noir's grip over his everyday spatula instantaneously tightened—hard enough for it to produce a slight creaking sound.

It tightened further as he heard, “Don't stress too much; perhaps she lost her phone or something?”

Right…

“Hahaha… Also, here, take these tickets.” Rory bent forward towards his friend's ear and whispered in a teasing voice, “Maybe she is just pissed off about something, and you know…”

He shoved these divine tickets into Noir's pant pocket, causing a smile to appear on Noir's face, the kind that didn’t reach his ears.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Rory walked away, leaving behind a heavier heart.

Sometimes it was better not to console.

A light jog had certainly helped a bit, but the cold constriction of uncertainty and longing was a permanent neighbor. Every time, he consoled himself, it ended with nothing but an emptiness inside.

Right now, Noir was on the phone, talking to a woman. She had the gentlest voice he knew.

“Hahaha, yes, Mom, I am good.”

“An omelet.”

“Yes, three bountiful eggs.”

Noir sighed. “Girl? Tch… Mom, you expect too much from me. Do you think I would rank first otherwise?”

“Eh? Fine… Yeah, I'll get something for them.”

“Hahaha… sure, sure. Mom, I got to go; my classmates have a strange look in their eyes.”

“What?... What do you mean? Of course I care. Do you not know of my repu—Pch... Bye... yes... yes... Love you.”

Click!

There were no classmates; only the gates of [Frydor University] covered his exhausted vision.

As he walked in, his gaze sought someone, like a moth drawn to a flame. But that someone had disappeared for the last six days, leaving him a message incomprehensible to his brain, mercury to his heart.

Claire…

Suddenly, someone a bit too close said, causing him to flinch, “Good morning. Ah, that shirt fits you well.”

Goddamnit... I need to focus...

"Ah, is that so?" said Noir with a smile. He observed the woman's golden necklace, with a diamond embedded in the center. "Lucy, is that a new necklace? Hmm... it suits you quite well."

A bright smile covered Lucy's face. Curling the ends of her hair, she said, in a sweet voice, "Really? Umm... Noir..."

"Hmm..."

"Like I don't mean to intrude, but... well... I am curious."

Noir stayed silent, with the same smile on his face.

Lucy continued, "Do you not date?"

Did she hear my conversation?

Noir chuckled, looking deeply into Lucy's eyes. "Ah, Lucy. I just don't have time, to be fair. Studying, working, and all. I really wouldn't want to half-heartedly commit," saying this, he thought about a particular someone.

Where is she? How can she-

Coming back to the present, he noticed Lucy's averted eyes and the twirling that had stopped. She muttered, "Oh, okay."

An awkward silence took hold before Lucy excused herself. As he walked away with her friends, Noir focused elsewhere.

But then came the others, striking up a conversation with Noir.

“Hey, any free time later? Wanna hit the pub?”

"Sorry. I got work."

“Sup! Did you watch the match yesterday?”

"No. Didn't have time."

"Hey," "Let's," “Are you—," "Notes," "Basketball," "Number—," "Movie?"

Shut up. How annoying.

After greeting several people almost out of habit, he entered the classroom and scanned the layout, his eyes flickering from person to person.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he walked toward the long middle row where several students could sit together. Usually, he would sit somewhere deeper inside, but today his body subconsciously moved towards the edge.

His arms curled on the table ahead, beckoning his face for some rest. True to their call, he lowered his face on the somewhat comfortable cushion and then closed his eyes. The chatter in the classroom rose by the minute, yet he couldn’t hear them.

What did she mean? Did I forget an inside joke or something?

His thoughts didn’t stop, and neither did the chatter. The voices were multiple, both in his head and in his ears.

But then—

“Ummm… I just had a fever... You know.”

—he heard a familiar voice.

Before he knew it, he was staring at her. Waves of dark hair framed her heart-shaped face, the parted bangs brushing gently against her lashes whenever she moved. A cream-colored sweater draped loosely over her slim figure, its sleeves hiding part of her hands. Beneath it, a black pleated skirt swayed lightly with each step. Her eyes, a light golden, stood distinctly among others, unmatched in their beauty. Mesmerized by them, every trouble felt non-existent.

Ah... would she ever know how much I long for her?

Perhaps she, too, felt the heat in his vision. Their eyes met. Then, hers… averted, causing a wrench in his heart.

Passing by his seat, she walked unhesitatingly towards the second row, which looked miles away from him. Gracefully lifting her skirt, she moved in towards the end opposite his. Watching this, a smile covered Noir's face, but it was surely not the happy kind.

Four breaths in. Two breaths out.

The chants didn’t work.

Fine. Is this how you want to play it?

Soon, the chatter calmed. The professor entered, spoke, and left.

That’s how it literally felt.

Claire got up and left from the front. Noir followed from the back door.

Outside the class, sunlight lit the space, but she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t matter, for Noir was not one not to know.

He walked straight ahead towards the stairway, every step quicker than the last. He passed by the 3rd floor, then the 4th, and now all that remained in his vision was an already-opened door.

The rooftop was a place that held secrets of their sweet memories, and inside it stood the one he wanted alone. She stood there, with a cold gaze, her back resting against the wall.

“Claire…” his words trailed off into the distance, unheard by none other than himself.

Noir took a step in, and immediately the heat seeped into his nostrils, filling them completely with its weighted scent.

But this scent was soon overwhelmed by another.

Towering right over her, he just stared into those golden eyes of hers.

“Fu—” He bit his lip with a scowl on his face. Then, after taking a deep breath, he whispered, “Was it a joke? Have I said something wrong?”

“Tell me, Claire… just communicate." He took a light breath and inhaled her lavender scent. “I don’t understand.”

“I meant what I said, hon—Noir.” Her eyes were resolute.

“Oh, you did?” he chuckled as he looked towards the side; the bright blue sky revealed itself.

Looking right back at her, he repeated, “You did, huh?”

His chuckles stopped. “Your right arm always slightly twitches when you lie.”

Claire shivered, like a wet cat, freezing in the cold.

“What surprised?” His gaze softened into a crescent moon. “You chew your cheeks not to smile too brightly. You like your nails painted pink every Friday. When you dislike something, you look to the right and then back again. Claire…” his voice shook. “I have known you for 5 years. My lips met yours 3 years ago.”

Noir gazed into her eyes, yet she didn’t.

“The silent treatment, huh?” His feet tapped the floor. “Fuck! Fuck! You aren't even stern.”

He bit his lips, he inhaled, and then, after a few seconds, exhaled. He did this a few times as he closed his eyes and looked at the sky.

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in: “We aren't meant for each other?” The foot taps increased. “Hmm… Claire? Tell me, what the hell do you mean? There was no argument, nothing; you suddenly disappeared. I have sent you hundreds! A fucking hundred messages, over and over, like an idiot. And what do I receive? Hmm… Claire, tell me?"

She didn't answer; she wouldn't. Noir uttered instead, "Silence!”

Biting his lips, he continued, “SLEEP HAS ELUDED ME FOR THE BETTER HALF OF THE WEEK. WHEN I WALK AROUND, MY EYES WANDER. ANYTHING I DO, I AM REMINDED OF YOU. MY HEAD HURTS. I BARELY FEEL LIKE EATING. FUCK!"

His eyes reddened as he remembered a certain nightmare. "Multiple times, I-I thought you were…” he pushed through the log in his throat, “Dead…” His piercing blue eyes, dewy around the edges, finally met hers—golden, where his heart lay. “And in those moments, I wanted to—”

Before he could complete, Claire had moved. As his eyes widened, her lips dug into his own. How could the love-stricken fool not reciprocate? His hands moved on their own—one wrapping around her perfect waist and the other gently curled around her soft hair. His tongue scraped each and every corner of her mouth, hungry for more and more. And as they did, a familiar warmth grasped his heart, or rather his soul.

Why do people kiss?

Weren't other forms of contact between two individuals more pleasurable?

At that moment, he had an answer:

People kiss for the reaffirmation of love. For the security and comfort of the heart. For a distinct kind of unity found in nothing else. And most of all, for a pleasure that exhilarates the soul.

And perhaps, because he found this answer, as his tears melded with her own, like a wounded beast, he relentlessly wanted every part of it.

Every part that exhilarated his soul.

Claire, too, possibly wanted the same; her arms wrapped around his neck, a place where they truly belonged. She dug deeper and deeper as they felt each other's breaths, along with the synchronized thud of their hearts.

But the kiss had to end, as his and her lungs had limited breath.

Huff-huff! Huff-huff!

When he looked at her now, she was flushed like a tomato, probably just like him. He wanted to dig in again, a thought amplified by her sticky gaze on his lips, but then the questions remained unanswered.

Gently pulling her into a hug, the kind that she loved, with his neck now closer to her ears, he whispered, “So tell me what troubles you, my silent yet feisty princess.”

Ugh…

When he realized what he said, he cringed as his insides trembled. Brushing it aside, he controlled the urge to lick her earlobes and moved backwards.

“What is this nonsense?” he said with a light smirk. “You led the kiss as if you had a revolutionary change in heart. Now you don’t speak?” He brushed aside a strand of hair that stuck to her face. “I swear, has it ever happened that I am the only one talking for more than a minute?”

Claire would smile—an inevitable conclusion he had foreseen. Any other conclusion was nigh impossible.

But! She didn’t.

"I-I..." she whimpered.

Noir sighed for the millionth time as his gaze turned to the gray-cemented floor below. He observed the texture of her black Mary Jane shoes as he mumbled, “Your father? Family? Mafia? Gang? Business? Whatever?”

Silence, huh?

Lifting his eyes to meet her own, he saw a strange look in them—a look he had never quite seen.

Guilt?

He moved forward, giving her a peck on her cheeks. “I see. I will deal with it.”

Creating a slight distance, he smiled lightly. But the smile slightly faltered as soon as he observed her expression. Her eyes trembled, as if she were on the verge of crying, and the strange look had intensified.

What...? Hmm…?

Suddenly, her eyes widened, stretching to their limits. Her entire body shook as they pushed his sturdy chest.

Unfortunately, it was weak. Noir barely moved. Instead, his gaze, now on the floor, observed a shadow below, neither hers nor his, inching closer to their own. A pole-like object, now a part of the shadows, uncovered itself, moving forward with certainty.

"Move—" she squeaked, her crystal tears falling to the floor.

He indeed did, but forward, tilting his body in the object's path.

“Don't worry,” he whispered, as reassuringly as he could, with a smile. She didn't smile; her hands moved towards him in desperation.

And so, the object slammed into his head full of hair, followed by an immediate buzzing sound like a signal-less TV screen. As the world toppled around, in his fading vision, he heard, "Now, will you?”