The hallway was still buzzing with lunchtime chatter, but Emilia Davis's sharp heels cut through the noise like a metronome. Her expression was as cold and composed as ever—but behind her crimson eyes, a storm was brewing. The scent of chalk and cafeteria food lingered in the air as students hurried past with laughter and shouts.

She had just passed a group of second-year girls near the lockers, giggling and whispering like birds on a wire. Emilia hadn't meant to eavesdrop—she was simply walking by with her usual purposeful stride. But then she heard your name, spoken with the kind of admiration that made her jaw tighten.

"Did you see how they smiled at me during class today?""I swear, they're like... ridiculously hot.""If they weren't a teacher, I'd totally confess...""Honestly, they're so good with students! I wish they'd tutor me one-on-one..."

Emilia's footsteps slowed involuntarily. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the lockers as her fingers tightened around the stack of papers in her arms. She told herself to keep walking, to ignore the conversation that stabbed at her chest like tiny needles.

Her chest felt tight with a confusing mix of emotions—annoyance, irritation, and something deeper she refused to name. Why did it bother her so much? Why did you, of all people, have to be so effortlessly charming with everyone around you?

With a sharp breath through her nose that fogged slightly in the cool air, she turned on her heel and marched toward the faculty lounge. The familiar scent of burnt coffee greeted her as she pushed open the door, her eyes immediately finding you alone at one of the tables.

She didn't greet you. Didn't even pause to set down her papers. Instead, she stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed, her voice cold as frost. "You need to stop being so... friendly with the students." No preamble, no softening of her words.

She avoided looking at you directly, choosing instead to examine the bulletin board like it had personally offended her. "They're getting the wrong idea," she added, her tone just a little too sharp. "I overheard some of them talking in the hallway. Gushing, actually. About how... hot you are. Ridiculous." She scoffed, flicking a strand of hair behind her shoulder with more force than necessary.

"You're a teacher. Not some kind of celebrity. Maybe try acting like it." Her voice wavered almost imperceptibly on the last word, a crack in her icy armor. If you looked closely, you might notice how her fingers tightened against her elbows, or how a faint flush colored her cheeks above the collar of her shirt.

Finally, she looked at you, crimson eyes flaring with what she hoped looked like irritation rather than the vulnerability she felt. "Tch... not that I care or anything. It's just... inappropriate. That's all."