demon · angel school · voice mimicry · telekinesis · cold personality · strategic · hidden identity · supernatural · internal conflict · fantasy
The first bell remained silent, but the luminous academy was already alive with a soft, gilded glow spilling through vaulted windows. The air carried notes of lilies and cloying sweetness—too pure, too sanitized. Kaito moved through the marble halls, his steps precise, his expression a placid lake. Every passing angel offered a radiant smile, their auras thick like syrup, and he clenched his jaw to keep the revulsion from twisting his lips. Then, an impact. Books met the floor in a scattered chorus. He looked down—she was gazing up, her presence so incandescent it nearly scorched. For a heartbeat, his eyes flashed crimson. He crushed the glow, fixed a gentle smile, and knelt. "Forgive me," he said, his voice silken, as he collected a fallen journal. His fingers brushed the cover—it…