Chapter 50: Tsundere
William exhaled sharply, slamming the girl who had tried to sneak up on him into the wall. The fourth student lay sprawled at his feet, groaning in defeat.
When you could hear someone’s thoughts, ambushes were almost laughably easy to spot—unless, of course, someone had mastered complete control over their mind, shutting it down even while plotting an attack. That would be dangerous. But William had no intention of broadcasting that secret to the world.
He had his reasons for being so defensive about the badge. Participating in the contest meant sending a message back home—a message that was sure to make an old man sit up straight.
’I can’t wait to see his face when the academy sends him something that isn’t a complaint,’ William thought, a grin tugging at his lips. Hands shoved into his pockets, he strode toward the common hall, moving with effortless confidence.
Thankfully, the common hall remained calm as William walked through, no one daring to challenge him as he made his way toward the privileged section.
As expected, Gizel wasn’t there—she had already handed him her card after her loss. The other council members were scattered around, chatting and dining with friends or classmates, completely absorbed in their own worlds.
William’s eyes swept the room, searching for a familiar figure. But she wasn’t here.
A frown creased his brow. Emma usually had the habit of joining the crowd in the common hall, yet ever since he’d started frequenting this privileged area, she had taken to using her own Privilege Card. But today, for some reason, she was absent.
Biting his lower lip, William headed to the kitchen. The chef had already stepped aside, leaving the space entirely to him.
He moved wordlessly, tossing together bean sprouts with a rich, saucy steak and squeezing a medley of fruits to craft a sweet and tangy juice. Half an hour passed in the rhythm of chopping, stirring, and blending—and still, Emma hadn’t shown.
Frustration flared. He slammed the apron onto the counter, glaring at the meal he had prepared for two. She wasn’t here.
’Now, she’s going too far,’ he muttered, the edge in his voice betraying his irritation.
....
Emma sat in the corner of the common hall, surrounded by a few classmates, yet her attention was elsewhere. She had seen William head toward the privileged area, but she hadn’t followed.
She didn’t want to meet him—not today, not until he came to her. There were reasons, tangled and complicated, reasons she wasn’t ready to untangle in her own mind.
She wanted to see if he would seek her out, if he would cross the distance between them on his own. But two long days had passed—over thirty-six hours since their last words—and every passing moment made her heart ache a little more.
Whenever she caught his gaze, whenever she felt his eyes on her, it was as if an invisible thread tugged at her chest, pulling her closer. She fought it, kept herself steady, but the restraint was growing thinner with each heartbeat.
How long could she hold back? She didn’t know.
"It’s surprising no one attacked you," said the girl beside her. Dorothy—Emma’s friend from another section and her roommate—gave her a teasing smile.
Emma let out a soft sigh. "Well...whenever I sense danger, I just erect a barrier. I don’t want to fight and ruin my dress." She wrinkled her nose. "Washing clothes is a hassle. I’d rather not do it unnecessarily."
Dorothy’s eyes sparkled mischievously. "By the way...are you and William fighting?"
Emma blinked, caught off guard. "No...why do you ask?"
Dorothy pressed her cheek against her knuckles, tilting her gaze to the left. "Look over there, and you’ll know."
Emma followed her line of sight—and there he was, standing at the entrance to the privileged area. Every inch of him radiated focus and determination, his eyes locked onto her. She didn’t need words; his entire expression screamed, ’Come here.’
For a moment, Emma felt her resolve falter. Maybe this was enough—maybe she should forgive him already. But Dorothy squeezed her hand gently and whispered, "If you’re fighting, don’t give in just yet."
Emma’s brows lifted in surprise as Dorothy added with a playful grin, "Let the man be a little more persuasive first."
Emma chuckled softly. "William isn’t like that... he’d rather just walk away than—huh?"
Before she could finish, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist. It was strong, warm—and definitely not Dorothy’s.
Her eyes lifted, and there he was. William. His crimson eyes met hers, glowing faintly with a mixture of complaint and resolve. His brows were drawn together as he said, low and slightly authoritative, "You’re eating with me."
Her heart skipped a beat. Words failed her, so she simply rose, letting him lead her away.
Dozens of eyes followed them as they crossed the hall—William walking ahead, Emma’s hand still in his grasp. Whispers filled the room.
Across the way, Kevin’s chair screeched slightly as he almost stood up, but Laila’s hand stopped him. "Don’t," she said calmly, eyes glinting. "She’s following him willingly, and you know it."
Kevin bit his lip, heat rising in his chest as he forced himself to sit back down.
William didn’t pay attention to any of them. He brought Emma to the privileged area, guided her to a seat, and then quietly began setting the table.
Moments later, he returned with the meal—bean sprouts, saucy steak, and the freshly squeezed juice. He laid everything out neatly, his movements precise and composed.
Then he sat across from her, slicing the steak with deliberate care. The sound of the knife against the plate was soft, steady.
Emma found herself staring. The way his fingers moved, the faint furrow in his brows, the loose strands of hair brushing his forehead—it all came together so perfectly that he looked almost unreal. She couldn’t look away.
When he finally slid a plate toward her, he said simply, "Eat before it’s cold."
Emma blinked, surprised. She had assumed he was cutting for himself, that he’d stay silent and brooding through the whole meal. But no—he had been preparing it for her.
Her chest warmed, and a faint smile bloomed on her lips. As she gently pierced a piece of steak with her fork, she asked playfully, "Is this your way of making things up?"
William scoffed without looking up. "Why should I make things up when I didn’t do anything wrong?"
Emma raised a brow. "You made dinner for me without asking, then dragged me here in front of everyone even though you hate attention. If that’s not an apology, I don’t know what is."
William’s gaze dropped to his plate, a faint scowl tugging at his lips—but there was no real edge to it. And the moment she noticed the tips of his ears turning red, her smile widened.
To her, he looked even more tempting than the meal itself.
*Haah~ as I thought,* she mused, her heart fluttering as warmth filled her chest, *I really can’t live without this man.*
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A/N:- His tsun side will slowly melt. Thanks for reading.