LOGINAs the God of Abundance, Professor Hilbert exercises absolute dominion over the sowing of seeds, the harvest of crops, the herding of beasts, and the prosperity of the earth.
But as I sit practically pinned to his lap in his private office, my brain suddenly remembers the final, most potent aspect of his divine portfolio.
Reproduction.
And right now, his absolute, flawless restraint is visibly slipping.
The raw, unrestrained aura of his divinity is leaking
The cafeteria has never been this crowded.Word got out about the milk, obviously.The rationing system sorts itself out by combat ranking, which means my portion is roughly equivalent to a second-year's, and I'm working through it steadily when the first shadow falls across my tray.A very large shadow.Roko, flanked by what appears to be a traveling exhibition of sumo wrestlers, looms over the table.Arlo goes still.Medusa plants one hand flat on the table and looks up at Roko. "What.""Don't worry." I meet Roko's eyes across the table and smile. "He's here for me."The eye contact lasts approximately three seconds, atmosphere thickening nicely, before the cafeteria entrance opens again and a new set of people walk in.Two of them.Identical, down to the last detail—same height, same deep violet hair, same heart-shaped pupils that make you feel like you're being perceived in a way you didn't consent to.They move through the crowd like water finding its level, effortless, parting t
When I hear the soft ping of the terminal at the front of the room, Professor Hilbert is uploading our latest batch of data.He looks from the screen to Arlo, who has once again drifted toward my desk.Hilbert's expression is unreadable, but I know that look. He's already decided Arlo is a distraction. He'll move me soon, probably under the guise of "improving my view".Arlo, blissfully unaware that he's about to lose his seat, leans in close."A lightning rod is too dangerous," he whispers, his voice thick with the kind of reckless ambition that usually gets people killed. "I've decided on a kite. For the storm next Monday."I drop onto the floor to start my daily set of push-ups. "A kite? How very...Franklin of you.""I can hang a key from the end of the line," he continues, dropping down to join me. "It'll channel the strike without being lethal. I need that 1:1 replication of the God of Medicine's experience.""Arlo, sweetie," I say, my voice steady as I hit my twentieth rep, "hav
"These are the bullets Nyla requested for you." Hilbert sets a small case on the desk beside me. "She asked me to pass them along. Also asked me to remind you—not on school grounds."I pick one up and turn it over. "Perfect weight." I glance up. "She couldn't give them to me herself? She has class this afternoon.""She has something else today. I'm covering for her."I'm sitting in his lap, which has become the default position for these between-class windows, and I shift my weight to look at him properly. "Two classes in one day. Will the headmistress pay you double?""It's a favor."He lifts the teacup and holds it to my lips without being asked.I drink.He brings it to his own mouth after, drinking from the same spot, and sets it down with a quiet sound against the wood."The freshman ball is next Friday," he says. "Eighteen hundred hours. I announced it in class this morning.""Will you be there?""To give the opening address.""And to dance?"He smiles, the patient kind. "Openin
The break between classes has quietly become something else.I'm not sure when it happened. Somewhere between the second tutoring session and the third time Hilbert found a reason to walk me to the corridor, it just became understood—this time is ours.Right now I have his hand in mine.He gave it over without hesitation, turned it palm-up in my lap like an offering, and I've been studying it for the last several minutes with the seriousness the subject deserves.It's a good hand. Large, warm, the kind of hand that has never needed to prove anything.No calluses. Which means he rarely fights with weapons.He fights with everything that grows."Well?" Hilbert’s voice is patient, faintly amused. "What does it say?"I trace the longest line across his palm with one finger, slow. "Your love line is very extended, Professor Hilbert." I look up at him through my lashes. "You commit deeply. Singularly."Something moves in those green eyes. He turns his hand over, and his thumb draws a single
Raphael is still there when I step out onto the balcony.He hasn't moved. Wings folded, silver hair undisturbed by the wind, looking like a statue. The moonlight does genuinely unfair things to his face.I pull out a card and hold it toward him. "In case you ever need anything, senpai."He doesn't take it."Could you pass it to the Throne Angel for me, then?"Not even a blink.I start to pocket it, already writing him off, when he says, "I'm Raphael Sterling. Cherubim awakening."I look at him. He looks at me. The card is still in my hand."You're strong," he continues, gaze moving over me with the same detached precision he'd use to assess a structural problem. "Interested in joining our team?"I wasn't expecting that.I thought he was here to document my violations.I tilt my head. "I'm first year. You're fifth. You're about to graduate.""We stay on as staff. Our team is small." Another measured look. "We need people with your particular skill set."Particular skill set.I smile. "
Roko goes quiet beneath me, which would be more satisfying if I'd actually knocked him out.The smell hits first.Sweet. Thick. The kind of sweetness that doesn't belong to anything you'd want to eat, overripe and cloying, like fruit left in the sun three days too long.It seeps into the room from the left bedroom doorway, and with it comes the sound of someone's sleep being very reluctantly interrupted.The door swings open.Silk pajamas. Deep V collar, a stretch of pale throat, two long legs crossed and leaning in the doorframe like he's posing for something.His eyes are half-open and his hair is loose, and the robe's sash is hanging off one hip in a way that is almost certainly deliberate even at this hour.A tail sways behind him, slow and idle. The eyes, when they settle on us, are purple. Heart-shaped pupils.He looks at Roko on the floor. He looks at me on top of Roko. He looks at the overturned coffee table and the debris field surrounding it."Roko," he says, voice still rou







