INT. MAID CAFE CLASSROOM – 12:00 PM
A long, exhausted sigh escaped Ice's lips.
It was the tenth one. Maybe the eleventh. He'd lost count somewhere between catching her mid-fall and being emotionally blackmailed into buying her dessert.
Across the table, Fire was cheerfully digging into a tall, sparkling parfait—eyes sparkling like nothing traumatic had happened just minutes ago.
The entire maid café-themed classroom was still staring.
Of course they were. She'd cried. She'd yelled. She'd hugged him in front of everyone. And now she was happily spooning whipped cream into her mouth like she hadn't nearly tumbled down the stairs.
After the emotional meltdown, she'd immediately grabbed his arm and sniffled, "You owe me a parfait now!"
"Why?"
"Because it's your fault I didn't get to enjoy my parfait earlier!" she had wailed.
How is that my fault? he'd thought. But there was no point arguing with chaos.
So, to make her stop crying—and maybe to silence the audience—they ended up here.
"You're just making excuses to avoid a violation notice," Ice muttered, arms crossed.
"No! I told you—I was chasing a guy because he dropped his wallet!" she insisted, waving her spoon for emphasis, nearly flinging cream onto a passing maid.
"Then why didn't you take it to the lost and found?"
Her expression froze, spoon mid-air. A long pause.
"…Oh," she said, like a computer hitting a blue screen. "I forgot about that."
He sighed again. A deep, soul-weary exhale.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, eyes wide with fake innocence. "Nooo, please don't write me up! I promise I won't do it again!"
He glared.
Then, as if summoned by her chaotic magic, the waiter placed another parfait on the table.
And just like that—instant happiness.
Her face lit up as if angels were singing. "Yessss," she whispered, eyes practically glowing. "It's beautiful."
Ice let out another sigh, this time actually losing the count.
"You suuure you don't want some?" she offered sweetly, nudging the spoon toward his face.
He recoiled slightly. "No." Flat. Final.
She just giggled and went back to devouring it with the enthusiasm of a child given candy for breakfast.
The staring continued. All eyes were still on them.
Ice turned, shooting a single cold glare across the room.
That was all it took. Every head snapped back to their own parfaits and conversations. Silence returned.
This girl doesn't know how to stop, he thought, watching her in mild disbelief as she hummed happily between bites. He sighed again, like it was becoming a habit.
"Don't worry," she whispered like she was telling him a secret. "Your parfait in Sweet Dreams Café is still better."
He gave her a dry, sarcastic smile.
She missed it completely.
Why am I babysitting again? he wondered, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time.
INT - CLASSROOM
The classroom was buzzing with energy. Students lined up in front of the printers, excited voices mixing with the constant flicker of camera flashes. Everyone wanted a souvenir from the school festival—photos capturing fleeting moments, made even clearer by surprisingly high-tech gadgets.
"Really?" A senior student stood by the printer, waiting for photo prints.
"Yes! It was President Ice and a sophomore girl!" a breathless girl from outside burst in, gasping mid-sentence as she delivered the gossip.
"I thought he didn't even talk to girls?" came a voice laced with disappointment.
"They were hugging in the corridor!" the first girl explained.
A classmate—grinning and eager—joined in from behind them. "They're eating at our maid café right now."
"What?!" The girls looked shocked, almost offended.
"Yeah! She's really cute—can't blame the cold prince," he said with a smirk.
"Let's go check!"
As the trio rushed out, their photos in hand, someone else was already following silently, a quiet look of concern in her eyes—Oriel.
"Hey Rika, can you take over here for a bit?" she asked politely.
"Yeah, sure!" Rika replied, still adjusting a decoration at the couples' booth.
Just as Oriel was about to leave, a hand grabbed her wrist. She turned around in slow motion, startled. Dhylan stood there, eyes serious, slowly shaking his head—trying to silently say, "Stay out of it."
Or at least, that's what Dhylan thought it looked like.
Everything about the moment could've been dramatic… Romantic even.
If he hadn't been wearing a duck costume. His head bobbed weirdly as he shook it.
"Let go, you duck—DJ!" she hissed.
From inside the suit came a muffled reply. "Dho nhot enterfhair—"
"What?"
He struggled to pull off the duck head with one hand while still holding her. Sweat clung to his forehead as he finally freed his face. "I said do not interfere with them," he repeated.
Oriel glared at him. His hair was wet from sweating inside the costume, sticking slightly to his forehead. Somehow, that just made him look cuter.
How did he know I was going after Fire? Also, why does he look so cute right now?
Angry on the outside, but heart racing inside—that's totally Oriel.
"I know you don't like him," Dhylan continued, "but it's her decision. We have to trust her."
Oriel opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
Guilt washed over her. She was only worried—but Fire was strong. She knew that. She just couldn't help wanting to protect the people she cared about.
"Plus! You can't leave me here—you promised to be with me while I'm a duck!" Dhylan added with a pout.
***
The Foundation Day was spent together.
Oriel and Dhylan worked at the booth. Ice stayed with Fire all day. Reluctantly?
Cupcakes, street food, the lively booths—everything seemed brighter in her heart now. No lingering guilt. Nothing left behind.
Games were more fun. Rides more thrilling.
Even if Ice was always just behind her—not speaking, but not leaving either.
"I can't choose!" Fire was staring at a cart filled with food-themed phone charms.
Ice stood behind her, silent.
"Ice-su!" she called. "You sure you don't want anything?"
The vendor glanced between the two, confused—but since Ice remained calm and quiet, she shrugged it off.
He said nothing, as expected. Fire turned back to the charms and began picking through them.
"That one's custom," the vendor said, pointing to a charm. "It comes with paint so you can color it yourself."
Fire's face lit up. "I'll take two of those! Cupcake design, please!"
Reluctantly, Ice kept his gaze fixed on her back. She hadn't said a word to him all day—it had been like this since morning.
Why am I even doing this? he wondered, frustration and confusion swirling in his chest.
Around them, the festival was in full bloom. Laughter rippled through the crowd, food stalls sizzled with savory scents, and music danced on the breeze. For a moment, the energy seemed to ease something tight inside him.
"Icy!"
Startled, he spun around—she was suddenly standing right in front of him.
"The Foundation Day is amazing!" she said, her eyes shining like morning dew catching the light. Her smile sparkled under the golden afternoon sun, almost like fairy dust caught in the wind.
"You did well," she added warmly. Still grinning, she reached out and gently patted his head.
A jolt of energy shot through him, sharp and sudden—like the crackle of lightning in his chest.
But he didn't pull away.
He didn't brush off her touch.
And he couldn't ignore that smile—warm, bright, and utterly disarming.
Next chapter:
Responsibility or concern. Maybe one of those is the reason she stayed with him. She doesn't have to—but maybe she's just too kind. Kind to everyone. It doesn't have to be him, right?
She needs to stop. She can't keep playing like this, he thought.
In the other room, Dhylan always shouted his affection—clear and bright—but when will she ever believe it? Maybe never.