The Academy Library had two levels: the upper for official studies, the lower for archives, sealed reports, and restricted case studies—where Jack spent his nights lately, alone in shadows.

  The library was colder than usual.

  Late evening always gave it that strange, liminal feeling—half-empty, silent, like knowledge itself had gone to sleep. The back tables were sparsely lit, tucked behind tall shelves no one bothered to dust.

  Jack was already there when Elena arrived. Hoodie up. Notes still blank. But there was a tired kind of focus in the way he stared at the screen, like he wanted to care—but didn’t know how.

  She dropped her bag on the chair with a thud.

  “So. Conflict Resolution. Got any clue where to start, or should I do the thinking, too?”

  Jack didn’t react to the jab. He just pulled up a list of recorded hero-villain cases and pushed it to the center of the screen.

  “Pick one that won’t bore you.”

  Elena scanned through the list, eyes flicking fast, critical.

  “No way I’m doing one of those corny ‘heroes saved a bank’ cases. Half of them read like fairy tales.”

  “I figured.”

  She paused on one. Redshade vs. Black Torrent. High-level strategy. Brutal conclusion. No clean victory. Both sides lost something.

  Lots of moral gray.

  “…Maybe this,” she muttered. “At least the villain won’t make me fall asleep.”

  Jack nodded. “Fine with me.”

  They lapsed into silence. Each scrolling through different sections of footage. Not talking—but not clashing either.

  There was no chemistry.

  But there was no chaos.

  It was just… friction.

  ---

  Now he sat across from her at one of the polished tables under white-blue light, the project tablet between them.

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  She tapped it once, pulling up their assignment outline.

  “Let’s make this efficient,” she said. “Three work sessions. Then the sim. No wasted time. No dragging. Agreed?”

  Jack nodded, slow. “Sure.”

  She paused at his tone—flat, hushed, almost mechanical. Her gaze narrowed slightly.

  “Your Quirk is… what again?”

  Jack didn’t answer right away.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Actually, it does,” she said. “Unless you plan to make me carry the sim solo.”

  Jack looked at her then. His eyes were tired, but steady.

  “I’ll hold my weight.”

  Later, after a glance at the rankings—and a bit of digging—Elena found out he had telekinesis.

  She looked at him for a moment, as if trying to analyze something deeper, but said nothing.

  In the end, it wasn’t a popular power.

  The kind used for mundane tasks.

  And with Jack, it showed.

  She flipped open a secondary holo-tab and began drafting tactical outlines with brisk, clean efficiency.

  She didn’t care if it was the last-ranked student or the first.

  “I’ll do my part, and you can do yours.”

  That was Elena Ivascu—rank 19 freshman, top-tier in solo combat.

  Half an hour passed in silence.

  Then she proposed a scenario—a combo maneuver using pressure manipulation to suppress a fire spread.

  Jack spoke for the first time in a while.

  “That won’t work. Pressure suppression won’t be enough if the blaze has kinetic momentum. You’d need a rotation sink. Or barrier redirect.”

  Elena’s fingers froze.

  She looked up, slowly.

  “You know that from… where?”

  Jack shrugged. “I read it. Volume Four of the Tokyo Tower Rescue Analysis.”

  “That’s not on the freshman list.”

  “I wasn’t reading it for class.”

  She studied him a moment longer.

  Then turned back to the tablet.

  “Fine. Rewrite the sim setup. Let’s see if your theory holds.”

  ---

  Second Meeting – Following Day, Same Time

  The library at night was cathedral-quiet—only the occasional page turning, or the soft hum of the old heating system above.

  Most students were long gone.

  The only ones left this late were either failing… or hiding.

  Elena Ivascu was neither.

  She entered with a scowl, dropped her bag on the table without grace, and slid into the chair across from Jack. Her armor plates were retracted, but the energy around her still had edges. Her uniform jacket was half-unzipped, tie loose, a strand of silver-blonde hair falling over one eye.

  She didn’t fix it.

  Jack was already there, of course. Sitting in the same quiet way, a single reading lamp casting uneven shadows across his face. Sleeves rolled up. A pen between his fingers, tapping lightly.

  “This could work,” she said at last. “If you execute it cleanly.”

  He didn’t answer. Just nodded.

  And then they worked again—side by side.

  Like strangers on a countdown clock.

  But this time, Elena kept watching him from the corner of her eye.

  The way his hands twitched slightly when someone passed too close.

  The way he only looked her in the eye for a second—never more.

  The way his voice seemed to come from behind something—far back, behind his chest.

  Like he wasn’t all the way there.

  Uniform rumpled. No tie. Wrinkles everywhere.

  Black hair messy, no effort made.

  Bangs long enough to cast shadows over his eyes.

  His eyes.

  Always those eyes.

  Like he was watching everything. Everyone. All the time.

  He wasn’t dumb. That was the problem.

  He noticed things.

  Too much.

  And buried it all in silence.

  She didn’t like that.

  And yet… she was curious.

  But that wasn’t her place.

  And Elena knew that.

  ---

  Days passed.

  The deadline arrived.

  Assignment: submitted.

  Grade: 72%.

  Nobody said much.

  Some speculated that Elena carried the whole thing. Others didn’t care. Either way, life moved on.

  And Jack stayed where he belonged.

  At the bottom.

  And just like that, Jack and Elena went their separate ways.

  As if nothing had happened.

  ---

  Would you like me to do this for more chapters as you go? I’m happy to help you build this with consistency and subtle depth all the way through.