Is It a Flirtation or a Golden Retriever’s Favor?

Our Academy has “Special Activity Clubs” that any student can join regardless of their department, and I belonged to the Library Club. Thanks to that, I was close with the librarians. It was because of this connection that I was able to get my teammates into the library, which was normally only open late during exam periods.

We spent the entire night until dawn gathering data, organizing it, and creating the presentation materials. I even consulted with the team to write the script. Though they were awkward at first, my teammates scrambled busily under my direction. In the end, we finished the presentation perfectly.

As proof, Professor Berte showered us with praise instead of criticism, much like she had for Group 1.

“Marvelous! I can truly feel how meticulously you researched this. It’s clear you’ve been preparing with your teammates for a long time!”

Pendil, sitting in the front row, glared at me. I gave her a triumphant smile, mirroring the one she had given me before. I bowed deeply.

“Thank you.”

Professor Berte patted my shoulder.

“It seems you’ve truly learned a lot through this experience, Student Cecil.”

“Yes, I really felt a lot.”

“You may return to your seat now.”

I headed back. Professor Berte was looking at me with such warm, doting eyes that I had to suppress a sudden urge to smack the back of her head. After class, I let out a sigh of relief so heavy it felt like the floor might cave in, when my teammates cautiously approached me.

“Um, Cecil.”

I looked up at them.

“We’re really sorry.”

“You already apologized yesterday.”

“…Well, aside from that, we think we misunderstood you a lot. Since Lian bullied you, we thought it was okay for us to act like that too.”

“…”

“Let’s get along from now on.”

The corners of my mouth curled up automatically.

“Would you want to be friends with people who listened to one person’s gossip, badmouthed you, and tried to hitch a free ride on a group project?”

The teammates couldn’t say a word. I left the classroom with Zeno. He asked:

“Why did you wait until the day before to tell them?”

“Because I wanted them to suffer.”

“But you suffered the most.”

“…”

There wasn’t a grand reason. I simply wanted to give them a chance. These kids are still students, immature in managing their emotions, and their hearts change as easily as flipping a hand. I dared to hope that at least one of them would think, ‘Hey, this isn’t right,’ halfway through.

If they had changed in the middle, I would have been friendly. But trying to play “warm and fuzzy” only after everything was finished was something I couldn’t stand.

“What if they had twisted the truth during the reflection session?”

“They wouldn’t go that far.”

Because they realized something, too. They probably won’t try to ride someone else’s coat-tails in the next group project.

“Are you truly okay with this?”

“Yes. I’m satisfied. My reputation has improved a little, and the professor trusts me now. Thank you so much for the help, Zeno.”

“No need to say that. I didn’t really do anything.”

“No, I’m truly grateful.”

I looked at Zeno’s handsome face and wondered: What would have happened if I hadn’t been in a group with him? What if Zeno hadn’t been on my side? Even if I had done nothing wrong, I would have been branded the villain again, just like last time.

My nickname would have evolved from ‘Crazy Maltese’ to ‘Truly Insane Maltese.’

Ah, what a nauseating world. The class system really needs to disappear as soon as possible. Yet, isn’t it a fact that things went well today precisely because of that system? If I truly hated the hierarchy, wouldn’t I have thought of another way instead of using the high-status Zeno to screw over my teammates?

I had only felt refreshed for a moment before my stomach started churning again. Above all, though my position is ambiguous, I am technically a noble. Does someone like me—well-fed, warm, and attending the Academy without worrying about money—have the right to sincerely loathe the class system? As usual, my thoughts began to spiral, but Zeno called out to me.

“Cecil.”

“Ah, did you say something?”

“You finally answer.”

Zeno’s palm landed lightly on my forehead.

“You aren’t feeling ill, are you?”

“Oh, no.”

“I called your name more than five times and grew worried when you didn’t respond.”

I came up with a quick excuse.

“I think it’s because I haven’t slept.”

“Right. You should rest well today. Ah, and…”

Zeno’s hand moved from my forehead to lightly brush back my bangs.

“I noticed last time that you seem to like cheesecake. Do you have time this weekend?”

“Pardon?”

“To celebrate finishing the group project… would you like to grab a cup of tea?”

For context, this is a world where same-s*x dating and marriage are permitted. Naturally, I had to think:

Is this person hitting on me, or is he just suggesting we eat something good because we worked hard?

True to my habit, I started analyzing. Putting a hand on my forehead is one thing, but brushing back my bangs? That felt like a move.

But then again, I look like his pet dog. Maybe he was just petting me the way he pets his dog. Since the presentation ended well thanks to Zeno, I figured I should treat him to something delicious. I nodded.

“Yes, I’d like that. Let’s meet on Saturday.”

After setting the time and place, I parted ways with Zeno. Since the project was over, I figured I could rest easy for a while. I pulled the covers over me and lay in bed. But I couldn’t close my eyes.

“Is it a move? Or just a simple kindness?”

My bad habit had flared up again: the inability to stop once a troubling thought takes root. It was driving me crazy, but I couldn’t control myself. I became dead serious.

“What if he really is hitting on me?”

Go ahead and call me a narcissist. I sincerely hoped he just petted me because I look like a dog. If he’s hitting on me… the mere thought was terrifying. The opponent is the famous Zeno Moderato. Just imagining the students whispering made me feel sick again.

Should I have turned down the invitation? Then, suddenly, all the strength left my body.

“…”

I’m so pathetic. Why would someone as amazing as him hit on someone like me? Instead of wasting time on useless worries, I should just sleep. I pulled the blanket over my head and forced myself to dream.

“He’s definitely hitting on you.”

The next day, Ronia poured fuel on the fire I had barely managed to put out. Feeling my head grow complicated again, I put down my sandwich.

“Even I know about Zeno Moderato, and I don’t care about Academy business. They say he’s incredibly cold and blunt—a total iron wall to anyone who approaches him. I heard he only has a few friends.”

“…”

“He approached you first when you met, kept taking your side, and even asked to meet on the weekend. If that’s not interest, what is?”

I protested desperately.

“No, no matter how I think about it, he just wants to be friends because I look like his dog.”

“No, no matter how I think about it, he’s making a move because he likes girls with ‘puppy faces’ like yours.”

“But we barely just met!”

Ronia said calmly, “I fell in love with my fiancée three hours after we met.”

“Ah, right. You did.”

I suffered a complete defeat to Ronia today, too. I went to drink my coffee after finishing the sandwich but stopped. I should save it since I’ll be having tea later. As I wiped my mouth with a napkin, Ronia asked again.

“What are you going to do when you meet him?”

“Just have tea and leave.”

“Are you not interested in him?”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“…”

For some reason, Michael’s face flashed in my mind at that question. But a perfectly textbook answer came out of my mouth.

“Zeno is in the same department as me. If I date someone from the same department and we break up, imagine how much the students will gossip. I just want a quiet school life.”

“No other reason?”

“N-no.”

Darn it, I stuttered. There was no reason to stutter. Ronia stared at me, chin in hand, before asking:

“When are you going to realize it?”

“…Realize what?”

“Never mind. Everyone has their own pace. I have no right to interfere. I’m going back to my room.”

Ronia stood up with her coffee cup.

“And as you know, Michael will be at the training grounds until late tonight for practice.”

Why was she telling me that? I glared at Ronia’s retreating back for no reason before standing up.

Unlike other academies, Owl Academy allows a lot of freedom on weekends—outings, overnight stays, and visits. So on weekends, students spend time with their families at the campus cafes or head out to the streets.

On my way to the meeting spot, I watched families laughing and chatting at the cafes. What would it feel like to have family visit? I walked with my hands in my coat pockets.

Zeno was waiting for me in front of the fountain.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“No. I just got here.”

Zeno nodded toward the street.

“Shall we go?”

“Yes, let’s.”

The streets were incredibly crowded. I glanced at Zeno out of the corner of my eye.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s nothing. Um, but…”

“Move aside!”

Zeno suddenly pulled my arm. I accidentally buried my face in his chest as a carriage sped past us. Releasing me, Zeno asked:

“It’s better to be careful in crowded places.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go.”

We started walking again. To prevent another situation like that, Zeno made me walk on the inside of the path. Internally, I was crying tears of blood.

At this point, I had to admit it. He was hitting on me. If a man who is blunt to everyone else is only sweet to me, there’s no room for doubt.

What on earth should I do today? While I hesitated, we arrived at the cafe.