The college campus stretched out beneath Akio like a living, breathing map—curved walkways, tall layered buildings with balcony corridors, and pockets of green courtyards tucked between stretches of concrete and glass. Sunlight filtered through the late morning haze, catching on windows and scattering across the open quadrangle below. Students lingered on benches, talked in clusters, hurried between classes; the comfortable hum of academic life rolled through the air.

  Akio walked along the elevated walkway with his hands in his pockets, the city skyline glittering in the distance. He had walked this exact path countless times—sometimes as a quiet student on his way to a meeting, sometimes as the Dawn Hound slipping past roofs under cover of night. The familiarity grounded him. If nothing else, this campus was consistent.

  He turned the corner and stepped into the quieter hallway of faculty offices. The air shifted instantly—cooler, calmer, lined with polished wood nameplates and muted carpet. After a moment of scanning, he found the one he always looked for.

  A wooden namecard was mounted beside the door, carved with delicate sakura blossoms and an elegant stag sweeping across the grain. In flowing cursive, the name read: L. Terralune.

  Akio’s expression softened into a faint, genuine smile.

  He raised his hand and knocked lightly.

  A warm, lilting voice answered from inside. “Come in.”

  Akio pushed open the door.

  Lillianne’s office was exactly as he remembered—neat, cozy, lovingly curated. Shelves of books lined the walls, interspersed with hand drawn maps pinned in careful arrangements. A handful of small bonsai trees rested on the window ledge, their leaves dancing in the soft breeze from the open pane. The faint scent of tea and old books hung in the air, instantly easing something in his chest.

  Behind the desk sat Lillianne Terralune, her presence as warm as the room she kept. Curvy, with warm brown skin and long waves of chestnut hair half braided behind her head, her silver eyes lifted to him with a soft, expectant smile. Sakura petal earrings dangled gently as she tilted her head.

  Akio stepped forward and took the seat across from her, posture naturally straight but relaxed.

  “Hi, Lillianne,” he greeted, polite but comfortable. “How are you?”

  Lillianne folded her hands atop a stack of papers, her smile widening. “I’m doing well. And how was your summer break? I met with Aira earlier—she told me it’s been… eventful.”

  Akio huffed a quiet, amused laugh. “Aira always makes things eventful.”

  Lillianne laughed softly in agreement, though there was a note of exasperation beneath it—the fond kind reserved for people you care about even when they make your blood pressure rise.

  “I’ve been keeping up with her news blog,” she said. “I saw she got caught in that showdown between the Dawn Hound and Echo a few weeks ago.”

  Akio kept his expression neutral, though the memory flickered behind his eyes—pulling her out of danger, guiding her through falling debris, making sure she never caught a glimpse of him beneath the mask.

  “She told me all about it earlier,” Lillianne continued. “I’m just relieved she’s unharmed.”

  Akio exhaled through his nose, equal parts amused and weary. “I wish she didn’t have such a dangerous profession,” he admitted.

  Lillianne shook her head fondly, silver eyes shining with a mix of admiration and worry.

  “She’s really stubborn. Though,” she added with a knowing smile, “you probably know that better than I do.”

  Lillianne reached over and poured some tea with practiced ease, the gentle clink of porcelain settling an immediate sense of calm over the room. Akio accepted his cup with a small nod. The aroma rose warmly—floral, with a soft cinnamon undertone. He took a sip. Smooth, balanced, comforting. Very her.

  Lillianne leaned back in her chair, cupping her own mug between elegant fingers. “How is your older brother doing?” she asked, voice warm with genuine concern.

  Akio rested his cup lightly against his knee.

  “He’s doing great. He and Adrian came to visit recently, but…” He exhaled softly. “The train rail collapsed on their way in.”

  Lillianne’s brows lifted, worry tightening the corners of her eyes. “Oh no. I heard about that. And he had a run-in with the Dawn Hound as well, didn’t he? Thank goodness he’s safe.”

  Then her gaze softened further, shifting back to him. “You haven’t had an encounter with the Dawn Hound, have you?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Akio took another sip of tea—slow, thoughtful. Technically not a lie.

  “Nope,” he said mildly. “I’ve been fortunate enough to never be in that kind of situation.”

  She nodded, but her concern didn’t fade. “Vigilante activity has been rising noticeably these days. And with the re-emergence of the M.A.W., the upper sectors have decided it’s best to tighten security and crack down harder. They’re hoping to cut down the number of active vigilantes by at least half.”

  Akio absorbed that silently.

  He was familiar with the policies—zero tolerance, incentives for reporting, increased patrols, heightened surveillance. It wasn’t surprising, but it meant he would need to be even more careful.

  Lillianne set her mug aside and began organizing a stack of papers on her desk, skimming the top sheet. “With the M.A.W. active again, the government is expanding the Sentari program. Specialized containment training, new divisions, new protocols. Anyone can enroll if they qualify.”

  She looked up at him with a gentle smile. “Would you be interested in joining?”

  Akio shook his head politely. “No, thank you.”

  Lillianne’s smile warmed into something fond.

  “I figured as much. You’ve always been more aligned with the Illustrious path.” Her eyes shimmered with pride. “You’re incredibly smart, Akio. Well suited for that kind of work.”

  He nodded, returning the smile. “That’s the plan. Combat isn’t really my thing.”

  A comfortable quiet settled between them as Lillianne returned to her papers. Akio let his gaze drift around the office.

  This world’s structure had always fascinated him.

  Everything—the government, education, workforce—flowed through a single consolidated system. One major public institution led directly into the nation’s core workforce. Students specialized early. After graduation, most entered the Prism Court—seven major sectors that kept the country running. A smaller portion went into the Lunarium. Only a rare few rose to the Solarium.

  Lillianne’s voice pulled his attention back to her. She was checking something on her computer, eyes narrowed in concentration as her fingers moved lightly across the keys.

  “Mm. I’ll add that to the registry,” she murmured. “It’s shaping up to be a busy year for the Imperial—what with the vigilante crackdown and the M.A.W. resurgence. The last time there were this many outbreaks was almost three years ago now…”

  She paused. Her shoulders tensed, her expression tightening just faintly before she continued in a softer voice.

  “…when the Hollow was still active.”

  Akio didn’t need her to explain. He knew exactly where her thoughts had gone—the same place his own drifted whenever the topic surfaced.

  The Hollow: an anomalous entity that moved like a shadow given purpose, bending M.A.W. corruption to its will. A living calamity. A ghost story wrapped in blood and data rot. Its disappearance had turned it into myth.

  But one memory in particular still left a cold grip around his lungs.

  Aira—half conscious, barely breathing, surrounded by feral anomalies that the Hollow had sent crawling through the tunnels. Her phone abandoned. Her shoes scuffed. Her voice faint when she tried to call for help.

  He still remembered the exact pitch of the chittering in the dark. The stink of burnt circuitry. The weight of her collapsing into his arms after he fought through them as the Dawn Hound.

  If he had been minutes later—maybe even seconds—

  No.

  He never let himself finish that thought.

  His chest tightened at the memory. A controlled ache, small but sharp.

  “…Again,” he murmured, trying to sound casual but failing to fully hide the heaviness in his voice, “I just wish she didn’t have such a dangerous profession…”

  Lillianne folded her arms, gaze drifting toward the window as worry clouded her expression.

  “I know. Me too. I worry for her constantly…” She exhaled, long and slow. “But she’s thriving now. And I’m just glad—somehow—she wasn’t infected.”

  Akio nodded once. Silent, grateful.

  He still didn’t understand how she had avoided infection. He could’ve sworn—absolutely sworn—the Hollow had struck her before vanishing into the dark. An impact that should have been fatal. Or worse.

  Yet she had come out whole.

  Alive. Unaffected. Sometimes he wondered if the world had bent in her favor for once.

  Lillianne’s voice softened with apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a heavy topic. It’s just… with the M.A.W. reappearing, I hope it doesn’t return. The Hollow, I mean.”

  Akio kept his expression mild and composed, but his eyes cooled.

  Quietly, meticulously, he calculated probabilities. Pathways. Patterns. Worst case scenarios. If the Hollow resurfaced—what he would do, what he was willing to sacrifice, how far he would go.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

  He looked over to see Lillianne sifting through a stack of papers on her desk, eyes scanning details with practiced precision. After a moment, her expression brightened—amusement softening into something warmly pleased.

  “You know,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “academically, I have absolutely no worries about you. In fact, I think the department is running out of ways to challenge you. They might have to invent new courses and credits at this rate.”

  Akio offered a small smile at that, shoulders relaxing. Lillianne wasn’t one to dish out empty praise. If she said it, she meant it.

  She glanced up from her papers. “Speaking of which, how’s Gabriel doing?”

  Akio's smile softened—fond, quiet. “He’s doing fine. Settled into his new dorm now. I helped him make a caricature of Damien’s face out of apple peels just yesterday.”

  Lillianne arched an elegant eyebrow. “And what did Damien have to say about that?”

  Akio took a calm sip of tea, lips tugging into a smirk. “He said imitation is the highest form of flattery, and that if we were trying to imitate him, we could at least attempt to do it right.”

  Lillianne let out a soft, genuine laugh and shook her head. “You three are really something. Still—having peers who push you is good for your growth. Rivalries included.”

  She paused as another thought surfaced. “Oh—that reminds me. Do you remember that advanced research study you conducted last semester?”

  Akio nodded.

  “Well, the Prism Court would like you, Gabriel, and Damien to compile your individual studies together and present them. The combined results have proven extremely useful. They want a full presentation.”

  Akio raised an eyebrow, amused. “A presentation with Gabriel and Damien?”

  Lillianne smiled, confirming it. “Your work overlaps more than you’d think. And the Court wants all three perspectives. You’ll be presenting in front of officials from several sectors—and students who choose to sit in. Hopefully it won’t be too much work since it’s still early in the semester.”

  Akio took another slow sip of tea, already envisioning the chaos of assembling a cohesive presentation with those two. “Sounds interesting. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Thank you,” Lillianne said warmly. “Gabriel’s advisor mentioned he and Damien are already in the auditorium getting started.”

  Akio rose from his seat, giving a polite bow of his head. “Thank you for the meeting—and the tea.”

  They exchanged goodbyes, and Akio stepped out into the quiet hallway. As he began the walk toward the auditorium, the corners of his mouth lifted.

  A presentation with those two? What an eventful start to the school year.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Akio