Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

“Oh… that was you,” she said, genuine concern flickering across her face. “I’m really sorry to hear about what happened. Ethan told me about your father too. I hope he’s recovering well?”

Emily froze for the briefest second.

So Ethan had talked about her. And not just in passing. He’d spoken about her guild, about her father…

There was something strange about hearing her story echoed back through someone else’s mouth. Like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

Still, she nodded gently, trying to keep her tone even. “He’s stable now. The healers are doing what they can.”

Jane gave a respectful nod. “That’s good to hear. If there’s anything I can do to help—truly—please let me know.”

Emily looked at her for a moment, caught off guard. The sincerity in Jane’s voice wasn’t forced or empty. It was quiet… real.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Yet even as Jane offered those sincere words—soft, steady, and without even a hint of condescension—Emily felt something twist uncomfortably inside her.

Guilt.

The warmth in Jane’s voice, the quiet earnestness in her eyes… it was all real. And yet Emily, moments ago, had stood frozen in place with jealousy simmering in her chest.

Disgusting, she thought. I’m getting jealous over someone like her?

Someone who was kind.

Someone who offered help without pride.

Someone who—if the roles were reversed—Emily herself might have liked.

But the truth remained.

No matter how much she tried to will it away…

She couldn’t help it.

It didn’t mean she hated Jane.

It didn’t mean she wished her away.

It just meant… she was human.

Before the silence could settle too deeply between them, Ethan seemed to sense the unease lingering in the air. He cleared his throat lightly, shifting his gaze to Emily with a casual but slightly awkward smile.

“So… what brings you here?” he asked. “Library’s not usually your go-to spot, is it?”

Emily blinked, grateful for the shift in focus. “I’m here to study,” she said simply, lifting the books in her arms as if to prove her point.

Ethan brightened. “Then why don’t you join us?” he said without hesitation, patting the empty space beside him. “We’re studying for mid-terms too. Might as well suffer together, right?”

That caught her off guard. Her brows rose slightly. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft, uncertain. Her eyes flicked toward Jane instinctively. “I don’t want to intrude…”

Ethan smiled. “Why not? We’ve all got the same exams coming. Might as well help each other out.”

Then he turned to Jane, a quiet gentleness in his voice. “You don’t mind, right?”

Jane looked at Emily for a moment—her expression unreadable for half a second—and then gave a small nod. “Not at all,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Emily hesitated, just for a second longer. But then she stepped forward and took the seat next to Ethan, sliding her books onto the table beside theirs.

The tension didn’t vanish.

But it shifted.

Now they sat as three—shoulders not quite touching, books open, pages turning.

And though the storm inside Emily hadn’t disappeared…

For the first time in a while, she wasn’t studying alone.

******

The minutes passed slowly, but not unkindly.

At first, their study session was halting—punctuated by quiet page-turning, clipped questions, and the occasional polite nod. Emily focused on her notes, though she caught herself glancing at Jane from the corner of her eye more often than necessary. She wasn’t watching out of suspicion anymore—just curiosity.

Jane, for her part, didn’t force conversation. She answered questions when asked, pointed out corrections with a calm, unassuming tone, and even slid one of her practice sheets toward Emily after noticing her hesitating on a diagram.

“You might find this version clearer,” she said softly, tapping the edge of the page.

Emily blinked, surprised. Then, after a moment’s pause, she accepted the paper with both hands. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little softer now—less guarded.

Ethan, observing from his seat between them, felt the shift.

Slow. Tentative. But real.

And for the first time since Emily had approached, his shoulders relaxed a little.

It wasn’t perfect—Jane still carried a tension in her posture, and Emily still seemed to choose her words with care—but something had eased. The sharp edge of awkwardness had dulled into a shared silence. A silence that, over time, began to feel less like avoidance… and more like quiet camaraderie.

At one point, Jane made a dry remark about the poor formatting in one of their study packets, and to Ethan’s surprise, Emily actually laughed—soft and unexpected.

Jane blinked. Then, faintly, she smiled too.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, propping his elbow lazily against the table and resting his chin in his hand. He watched them for a moment—Jane scribbling a correction with methodical focus, Emily flipping to another page with a small furrow in her brow, then stealing a glance at Jane’s notes for comparison.

He liked this.

He liked seeing Emily at ease—her voice a little more relaxed, her shoulders not quite so high. He liked seeing Jane open up in her quiet way, meeting Emily’s hesitations not with condescension, but with patience.

It was subtle, but it mattered.

These two people meant something to him. And seeing them like this—together, not clashing but slowly, cautiously learning how to share the same space—filled him with a warmth he didn’t know he needed.

A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

He didn’t interrupt them. Just let them talk, occasionally adding his own thoughts, but mostly letting the dynamic unfold on its own.

Still, even in his contentment, he couldn’t quite ignore the undercurrent.

Jane’s gaze—though kind, composed, and unwavering—would linger just a second longer than usual whenever Emily smiled at him. There was no coldness, no hostility, not even sadness… but something unreadable flickered in her eyes. Something he couldn’t place.

It wasn’t sharp enough to call jealousy. Not quiet enough to call disapproval.

It just was.

Ethan glanced at her, watching the way she tilted her head slightly when Emily asked a question, how her lips curved subtly at the corners when she explained a concept in detail. She wasn’t distant—but she wasn’t quite fully here either.

He couldn’t help but wonder.

Was she uncomfortable? No, she’d said it was fine.

Maybe just tired?

Ethan tilted his head slightly, still watching Jane out of the corner of his eye. Whatever she was feeling, she wasn’t showing it clearly—and maybe that was just who she was. Reserved, thoughtful. A quiet wall of calm where others might show too much. He didn’t mind it. In fact, he respected it. Still, a part of him—it wasn’t worry, not exactly—kept wondering what lay beneath that stillness.

But he let the thought pass.

Not everything needed to be solved right away.

Just then, a soft shift in the air made him glance toward the entrance.

The library doors had barely made a sound, but he felt it anyway—the faint, almost imperceptible ripple of someone slipping into the room. No footsteps. No dramatic entrance. Just a presence, low and quiet like a shadow under sunlight.

Ethan’s eyes adjusted immediately.

Astron.

He moved with that same effortless precision, his dark uniform crisp, a tablet tucked under one arm. The kind of appearance that made you blink and wonder if he’d always been there. If you didn’t know him, you might not have noticed him at all.

But Ethan had spent enough time around him to recognize the signs. The quiet. The pause. The way the space around him never quite settled, always a little too still.

A small smile tugged at Ethan’s lips.

“Oh—Astron,” then he called out the person.