Chapter: The Day No One Acknowledged

By the time first period started, the rumors had already begun.

“They say Miss Bloodbriar’s husband is visiting today.”
“No—boyfriend.”
“No—he’s a student.”
“…There’s no way he’s a student.”

No one had the full story. No one ever did when it came to Diana.

The Arrival

Beckett arrived just before second period.

Black gloves.
Mask in place.
Dark layered clothing, chains faintly clinking with each step.

He moved like a shadow that had decided to take physical form.

The front office staff froze for half a second too long.

“…Can we help you?” the receptionist asked, already unsure why her voice had dropped.

“I’m here for the graphic design session,” Beckett replied quietly.

A pause.

“…Right. Yes. Of course you are.”

She didn’t ask for ID.
Didn’t question why he looked barely older than the seniors.
Didn’t question why her heart rate had spiked.

She simply let him through.

Immediate Confusion

Within minutes, whispers spread like wildfire.

“Wait—is he a student?”
“He looks younger than half the seniors.”
“No, he’s with her.”
“…Oh.”

That last oh carried weight.

Because everyone knew what that meant.

The Classroom

Diana stood at the front of the classroom, dressed in her usual corporate-black attire—s black blazer thats open her black dress shirt, leather skirt, high-heeled boots, spider-web earrings catching the light.

Early 30s, technically.

Visually?
Mid-20s, at most.

She tapped the board once, sharp and precise.

“Today’s session,” she said coolly, “is for those interested in pursuing art professionally.”

The door opened.

Beckett stepped in.

Silence fell instantly.

Not gradual.
Not awkward.

Absolute.

The Hallway Freeze, Indoors

Students stopped mid-note.
A pen dropped and no one picked it up.

Diana didn’t even look surprised.

She simply turned slightly, walked toward him, and adjusted his scarf with a familiarity that made the room collectively malfunction.

A whisper—too soft to hear.
A glance—too intense to interpret.

And then she leaned just slightly closer.

Not inappropriate.

Not obvious.

But unmistakably intimate.

The First Rule Forms

In the back row, a student slowly closed their notebook.

“…We didn’t see that,” they whispered.

Their friend nodded immediately.

“We didn’t see anything.”

Across the room, another student muttered:

“Don’t look directly. Just… peripheral vision.”

A third added:

“And don’t remember it later.”

And just like that—

The rules were established.

The Demonstration

Diana returned to the front like nothing had happened.

“This,” she said, gesturing calmly, “is Beckett. He’ll be assisting today.”

No one asked how.
No one asked why.

Beckett began reviewing student work.

Quiet. Observant. Precise.

When he spoke, it was minimal—but devastatingly accurate.

“This composition lacks focus.”
“The contrast here is inefficient.”
“You’re overcompensating.”

No emotion.

No sugarcoating.

And yet—

The students leaned in.

Because despite the fear, despite the silence…

He was good.

The “Cute” Problem

In the hallway, female staff whispered behind hands:

“…He’s kind of cute.”
“Kind of?”
“I thought he was a student.”
“He can’t be a student.”
“…Right?”

A younger teacher blinked. “Wait—how old is Miss Bloodbriar again?”

“…Early 30s.”

“…No way.”

Someone else added quietly:

“They both look like they’re in their 20s.”

A pause.

Then, almost automatically:

“Don’t think about it too hard.”

The PDA Incident (Peak Event)

Near the end of the session, it happened again.

Beckett handed Diana a tablet.

Their fingers brushed.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she held his hand for just a second longer than necessary.

Tilted her head.

Smirked faintly.

“…Good work,” she murmured, low and controlled.

The room temperature dropped ten degrees.

Total Shutdown

One student stared directly at them.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Looked away.

“…Nope.”

Another student physically turned their chair toward the wall.

Someone else whispered:

“I’m deleting this from my brain.”

In the hallway, a teacher who had accidentally glanced in froze mid-step—

Then turned around and walked the other way.

The Substitute’s Fate

A substitute passing by peeked in.

Saw just enough.

Paused.

“…Class seems under control.”

And left immediately, later writing:

“No irregularities. Students behaved normally.”

The Security Camera

Later that day, an administrator reviewed footage for an unrelated issue.

Paused on Diana and Beckett.

Watched five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

“…This footage is irrelevant.”

Delete.

The Club That Didn’t Last

A group of curious students tried to document the event.

Their notes read:

“Something happened.”

“Very intense.”

“Do not investigate further.”

They disbanded the same day.

The New Student Lesson

A transfer student whispered:

“…What’s going on with those two?”

A veteran student replied immediately:

“Rule one: don’t look.”
“Rule two: don’t remember.”

“…Why?”

“…You’ll understand.”

They did.

Very quickly.

After School

The final bell rang.

Students packed up in silence.

No one mentioned the day.

Not directly.

Not even indirectly.

Diana gathered her things. Beckett stood beside her.

She leaned in slightly, voice soft:

“My prince, you did well.”

“…Mistress,” he replied quietly.

A student walking past immediately turned around and walked the other way.

Faculty Conclusion

In the staff room, someone finally said it:

“…We’re not documenting today, right?”

Another nodded.

“Absolutely not.”

A third added:

“For everyone’s sake.”

Diana’s Reflection

As they left the building together, Diana smirked faintly.

“You know,” she said casually, “they think we’re unnatural.”

Beckett adjusted his gloves.

“…Are we?”

She laughed softly.

“Of course. Stress-free life, constant intimacy… clearly that’s the secret to staying young.”

A pause.

“…Immortality, obviously.”

Beckett didn’t respond.

But his silence said enough.

Final Rule

By the next morning, the school had collectively agreed—without ever saying it out loud:

If you see Diana and Beckett together…

You saw nothing.