Rain pattered lightly on the windows of the university café, softening the sharp angles of the outside world. Iris sat with her usual iced latte and notebook open, though she hadn't written anything in the last twenty minutes. Her eyes drifted again, as they often did, across the room to where Alexis Prince sat, headphones in, eyes scanning something on his tablet.
He looked... normal. Quiet. Neat. Like someone you'd forget the moment you turned away.
And that was exactly what unsettled her.
He wasn't flashy, didn't seek attention. But she'd started noticing details others didn't. A shift in his posture. A calmness that didn't match the rest of them scrambling through university life. His part-time job at Axis Goods didn't match the subtle elegance of his pen, the tailored coat he wore this week, or the sleek laptop that bore no brand.
She hadn't meant to pay attention.
But curiosity had teeth.
"Did you see that new place downtown?" her roommate asked that afternoon as they passed through the art district. "Vaelore Atelier. No sign, no ads. Just glass, marble, and that creepy quiet luxury vibe."
Iris stopped in front of it. The window display held only a single ring under soft light. No price. No description. Just a reflection of herself staring back.
Her roommate scoffed. "It's like a secret club for people who own islands."
Iris didn't respond. Her gaze stayed on the minimalist interior. There was something familiar in its arrangement. Subtlety in design she'd only seen once before—on Alexis's notebook. She could almost swear she'd seen the same pattern on the edge of a sketch he'd once left open for just a second too long.
She shook the thought off.
Coincidence.
The next morning in class, Alexis sat one row ahead of her. He answered a professor's question about historical economic collapses with surprising precision, then returned to silence.
A group beside her whispered.
"Someone said Vaelore's owner is anonymous. Maybe a royal?"
"Please, more like a tax-dodging oligarch."
"Maybe it's run by an AI."
"Maybe it's that quiet guy in front of us," one joked, nudging toward Alexis.
Iris narrowed her eyes.
He didn't even flinch. Just kept writing.
That was weirder than reacting.
There was no smirk. No denial. Just composure.
That night, she sat on her bed, the glow of her laptop casting long shadows across the ceiling. Her diary tab blinked open. She hesitated, then typed:
There's a difference between a lie and a well-maintained truth. Alexis isn't lying. But something is missing. Like watching a movie and realizing there's a scene cut you can't find. He's too calm. Too composed.
Today, he laughed at a joke that wasn't funny. Perfectly timed. Just enough to seem human. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or worried.
Also… that ring.
She hovered over the entry, then added:
It wasn't there last month. It's simple, but deliberate. Gold, but old. I'd bet anything it wasn't bought in a store. Not one with a website, anyway.
She hit save.
The next day, she passed by Axis Goods on her way home. The bell chimed gently as she stepped inside. The store smelled of paper, spice, and cheap chocolate. Alexis was chatting with a grey-haired lady about two-for-one tea offers.
He laughed softly when the woman made a pun about cinnamon. Perfectly natural. Perfectly warm.
When the customer left, Iris stepped forward.
"Hey, Alexis."
He looked up, the same gentle smile in place. "Hey, Iris. Need help with something?"
His tone was warm, casual. Nothing suspicious. But that made her wonder even more.
She shook her head. "Nope. Just looking."
He nodded and turned back to his shelf.
But as he lifted his hand, the light caught something—a simple gold ring, worn on his index finger. It wasn't showy. It wasn't even polished. But it had weight.
She caught herself staring.
Just a second too long.
Outside, the sky was overcast. She pulled her coat tighter and glanced back once.
Just a quiet store.
Just a student.
Just a feeling she couldn't shake.