Chapter 1

I was born with a faint, almost elusive scent of jasmine.

Selene Fairwind, the transfer school beauty, suddenly burst into a violent coughing fit right in front of everyone. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she pointed straight at me. "Excuse me, your perfume smells so cheap. I'm allergic."

My childhood friend, Malachi Grimstone, immediately stepped in, shielding Selene behind him. With clear disgust, he shook off my hand. "Vaela, do you really have to make such a spectacle of yourself? Just stay the hell away."

I was pushed all the way to the last row and ended up sitting beside the most unruly guy in the entire school, Osric Thornvale.

Later, he cornered me against a wall. Lowering his head to the hollow of my neck, he took a slow, deep breath, his voice rough and husky. "Damn, you smell incredible."

Malachi happened to walk in at that exact moment.

His eyes turned bloodshot as he crushed the water bottle in his hand, the plastic cracking under his grip. Even his voice trembled with anger. "Vaela, I'm ordering you. Get your ass back here right now."

*****

The air in the lecture hall was so stifling that it felt like a waterlogged sponge.

The famous economics professor's open lecture was packed. Every seat was taken, and even the aisles were crowded. Malachi and I managed to snag two seats near the front, right in the middle.

I was born with a faint jasmine scent, subtle, refreshing, and just a hint of sugar. It was so private that one could only notice it if one got really close.

Ever since we were little, Malachi would bury his face in my neck, sniffing. He always said it was the scent that belonged only to him, the one that calmed him down.

But today, that comfort became a blade twisting in my heart.

Sitting right in front of us was Selene, the finance department's goddess, who had just transferred in.

Her long, cascading curls framed her face, and she wore a pristine white dress. She was so beautiful and flawless.

Halfway through the lecture, Selene suddenly started coughing up a storm. Her face flushed bright red, and her eyes watered as she struggled to catch her breath.

Everyone's attention snapped to her in an instant.

The professor paused, worry etched across his face. "Are you alright, Selene?"

Selene clutched her chest with one hand, trembling as she pointed at me with the other, her voice urgent and pitiful, almost crying. "I-I'm okay, ma'am. But the scent coming from her is so overpowering. It's making me allergic."

As she spoke, Selene coughed it again.

In an instant, everyone's eyes were on me, and it felt like a hundred burning needles were stabbing right through me.

I went stiff, completely frozen.

Perfume? I didn't even use that stuff.

My hand instinctively reached for Malachi's sleeve, looking for a bit of comfort. Malachi knew better than anyone that my scent was just part of me.

But his reaction hit me like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone.

He shook off my hand almost immediately, with obvious disgust.

Then Malachi got up, walked over to the front row, and scooped up Selene, who was still acting all fragile with her coughing, putting her behind him like she was precious.

He did it with practiced ease, like he'd rehearsed it a thousand times.

He turned back to me, his gaze icy and unfamiliar, with nothing but blame in his eyes. "Vaela, what the hell is your problem?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it struck me cold, like an icy hammer right to the chest. "This is a public lecture, not your personal circus. Are you trying to gas everyone with that bargain-bin perfume?"

My mind went completely blank, and my ears were buzzing.

I stared at Malachi as he shielded Selene, his cold, unfamiliar accusations hitting me like a slap. My throat burned, clogged with something hot and suffocating. I couldn't force out a single word.

The whispers around me started to buzz in my ears like a swarm of bugs.

"So, it's her, huh? Talk about desperate for attention."

"Seriously, look at how bad Selene's coughing. That's just so tacky."

"Malachi is so hot. His boyfriend vibes are off the charts."

The professor frowned, pushed up his glasses, and said in a clipped, annoyed tone, "There are empty seats in the back. You, move over there. Don't disturb the rest of the class."

Now I was officially the one everyone thought was causing trouble.

Under everyone's gaze, I felt like a criminal being put on trial in front of the whole class.

I bit down hard on my lip, tasting the faint, rusty tang of blood.

The guy who used to stand between me and the world's storms was now the one who shoved me straight into the eye of it.

I stared at Malachi, but he didn't even look my way. All his focus was on Selene, whispering to her, making sure she was alright.

My heart twisted so painfully that my vision blurred and went dark for a moment.

I didn't say a word in my own defense.

In a scene like this, any explanation would've been useless. Instead, it would turn me into an even bigger joke.

I bent down with a blank face, packed up my books and laptop, and under a sea of curious, judgmental, and drama-hungry stares, I made my way step by step to the farthest, most isolated seat in the back corner.

That spot was the school's notorious forbidden zone.

Because that was Osric Thornvale's turf.

His name alone was enough to make every teacher and student at school nervous. He skipped classes, got into fights, and acted like school rules didn't even exist.

People whispered that his background was a total mystery, and nobody in their right mind would ever mess with him.

At that moment, he was slumped over his desk, most of his face hidden in the crook of his arm, looking like he was sleeping deeply.

I slid into the empty seat next to him, curling up as small as I could, wishing I could just melt into the shadows and disappear.

But that faint, barely-there jasmine scent still drifted out, lingering awkwardly in the air.

The man next to me stirred.

Osric slowly raised his head, showing off a face that was all sharp angles and dangerously good looks. He looked half-asleep, and under those long, thick lashes, his eyes were deep and clearly annoyed.

He shot me a look, and his brows furrowed into a sharp, angry line.

My heart skipped a beat, and I instinctively held my breath.

He flared his nostrils, sniffing the air, trying to catch a scent. "What's that smell?"

His voice was rough from sleep, low, with that bone-deep indifference and impatience.

I clenched the hem of my shirt, my nails digging into my palm, steeling myself for whatever chaos he was about to unleash.