CHAPTER 6

HIROTO'S POV 

The steam from the ramen bowl hit my face, but it didn't do anything to clear the fog in my head. I sat across from Kenji, my wooden chopsticks hovering over a piece of chashu that I had no appetite for. My inner thighs were chafed, and every time I shifted on the hard wooden stool, a sharp jolt of soreness reminded me exactly why I was wearing a thick turtleneck in eighty-degree weather.

"I’m telling you, Hiroto, the guy was a beast," Kenji whispered, leaning over his bowl. He was still on it. The library. The "girl." "I'm still trying to forget everything I heard. It's crazy how different Professor Neven was in the library that day.”

I took a slow, painful sip of the salty broth, the silver ring of my collar pressing into my windpipe as I swallowed. “For someone who didn't want another ear to hear about this, you're sure talking about it a lot,” I muttered. 

“I know, I know. You want me to shut up,” at least he knew. “Anyway, are you sure he won't come after me after I ended up seeing him in such a situation?” He lowered his head and whispered.

“If he planned to do so, wouldn't he have done that already?” I raised a brow. He was ruining supper with his endless theories and unsolicited opinions. “Now, can we please focus on our supper? You're ruining my appetite.”

“Sorry,” he muttered before slurping down the noodles in front of him.

The bell above the shop door chimed. A draft of cool evening air cut through the humid, noodle-scented steam. The atmosphere in the tiny shop shifted instantly—the casual chatter of students dipped, replaced by a heavy, pressurized silence. I looked up to see Neven standing by the entrance. Why was he here?

"No way," Kenji hissed, dropping his spoon. "Is that...?"

His icy blue eyes scanned the room before landing on our table. His eyes lingered on me for a few seconds before he walked towards the counter to order coffee. He sat at the narrow bar directly behind us. He was so close I could hear the rustle of his coat.

"Don't look back," Kenji breathed, his eyes wide. "He’s right behind us. Do you think he's going to confront me because I saw him at the library?"

"Relax, Kenji," I whispered, though my heart was beating just as fast as his.

Under the table, I felt a sudden, firm pressure against my calf. My breath hitched. Neven’s polished leather shoe was sliding up my leg, his toe hooking behind my knee and pulling me closer to the back of my stool. It was a bold, arrogant move. Kenji was less than two feet away, complaining about the spice level of his eggs, while the man he was gossiping about was making his move in front of him.

I tried to pull away, but Neven’s foot followed, his heavy pressure pinning my leg against the wooden support of the table. I felt a flush of heat spread across my chest. I looked down at my ramen, my vision tunneling.

"Mr. Sato," a deep, smooth voice rumbled from behind me.

Kenji nearly jumped out of his skin. I forced myself to turn around, making sure to keep a neutral expression.

"Professor Karlsson. I didn't expect to see you here."

Neven was leaning back, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He ignored Kenji entirely, his focus locked onto me. "The coffee at the faculty lounge is subpar. I find the local spots have more... character."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, folded envelope. He set it on the edge of our table, right next to my bowl. "You dropped your study notes in the hall today, Hiroto. It would be a shame to lose such 'valuable' information."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, my hand trembling as I took the envelope.

He stood up and nodded once to Kenji—a cold, dismissive gesture that made my roommate turn pale—and walked out of the shop.

The moment the door closed, Kenji exhaled a breath he’d been holding for a minute. "Holy shit. Did you see his eyes? He looked right through me. To think he even remembers your name, then again you are our best student.”

“Right,” I forced a smile, that was surely not the reason he remembered my name but we could work with that.

Later that night, after Kenji had finally fallen asleep, I opened the envelope. There were no study notes. Inside was a stack of high-denomination bills—more than I’d make in a month at the club—and a single slip of paper.

Come to the gym showers by midnight after the faculty game.

I folded the paper wondering if he was doing this to get on my nerves or just to test me.