Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

“Is that why this guy’s grades have been improving so much lately?”

He tilted his head ever so slightly toward Ethan, who was currently scribbling a half-doodled diagram onto the corner of his notebook, utterly unaware of the shift in atmosphere between the two beside him.

Jane’s eyes darted to Ethan instinctively. Then back to Astron.

Her mouth opened slightly. Then closed.

And then—her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“I-I mean…” she started, flustered. “It’s not like I’m… teaching him or anything.”

Astron didn’t respond, just waited.

Jane sighed, unable to meet his gaze for a second. Her hand fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve.

“…I’ve been helping him. A little,” she admitted quietly. “Some one-on-one reviews after class. Mostly written material, breakdowns, things like that.”

She glanced down at her notebook, still blushing.

“I didn’t think it’d… actually help as much as it did.”

Astron nodded once, as if confirming a data point on a chart. “It did.”

His voice carried no teasing. No judgment. Just a flat, matter-of-fact affirmation.

Jane swallowed again, her blush deepening despite herself. She’d spent countless hours reviewing Ethan’s course materials, restructuring them in a way that made sense—at least to her. She hadn’t expected him to respond so quickly to the patterns, to the structure she offered.

But he had. More than she expected.

And now Astron—someone who barely acknowledged anything that wasn’t efficient or relevant—had just validated her work.

Without fanfare.

Without flattery.

Just truth.

Her fingers stilled, no longer fidgeting.

“…Thanks,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Just as Jane let the soft “Thanks” slip from her lips, the silence was gently broken—though not by her, nor Astron.

It was Ethan.

He looked up from his notebook, his pencil paused mid-doodle on a barely comprehensible chart in the margin. He glanced between the two of them—Jane, flushed and suddenly still; Astron, unreadable as always.

“What were you two… talking about?” he asked casually.

Except—it wasn’t quite casual.

The words caught slightly in his throat, came out a little uneven. His voice wavered—not in volume, but in rhythm. Like he’d meant to speak with the same bright ease he always had, but something in the air tugged his tone just a little off-course.

Astron noticed it immediately.

He turned his head, studying Ethan with mild but unmistakable focus.

“…Hmm?”

It wasn’t a challenge. Not even concern. Just a small, analytical prompt.

But that look—the one Astron gave when he observed something out of place—made Jane shift slightly, her fingers grazing the edge of her notebook again as she looked up.

“We were just talking about theory,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Astron asked about the book I was using.”

Ethan blinked, then offered a slow nod.

“Oh,” he said, still not quite himself. “Right. Cool.”

His smile returned—habitual, practiced—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Something in his chest stirred.

It wasn’t unpleasant. Not entirely.

But it was… odd.

Like the feeling of stepping into sunlight after sitting in the shade for too long. Warm, but disorienting.

He looked at Jane.

She was back to writing, though her posture was more upright now. Focused, but… lighter somehow. Her shoulders weren’t drawn so tightly anymore. And the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a bit too late, still tinged with the faint blush on her cheeks—it wasn’t nothing.

Then he glanced at Astron.

Unfazed. Steady. A picture of composure, as always.

They hadn’t been talking about him, had they?

No—wait. She had glanced at him.

They were talking about me?

Ethan stared down at the half-finished diagram in front of him, but the lines made no sense now. His pencil hovered just above the page, unmoving, as his thoughts twisted inward.

Why am I feeling like this?

It didn’t make sense.

Astron was just talking to Jane. Observing her, asking a question, making one of his usual matter-of-fact comments. There wasn’t even anything strange about it. Nothing flirtatious. Nothing even remotely out of place.

And yet…

He felt something inside him clench. Something irrational.

That’s not right. I’m not that kind of guy.

He prided himself on not being possessive. Not the jealous type. He wasn’t supposed to care if two people he liked and respected talked to each other. Especially Astron. Astron, who barely acknowledged ninety percent of humanity unless it was directly relevant to his internal calculus.

And yet…

Jane had looked flustered.

She’d smiled—quietly, nervously, but genuinely.

And Astron, in his emotionless way, had praised her. Affirmed her. Something Ethan had only ever done in soft passing comments, too casual to ever be called real compliments.

He frowned, trying to tamp the feeling down.

But something whispered beneath it, soft and unsettling.

Maybe I’m not as good of a person as I think I am.

Maybe now, in this moment, he was starting to understand why Astron had reacted so viscerally that day when Irina’s name had been brought up. When the idea of someone hurting her had crossed the line between theoretical and real.

“If you like something too much…” Ethan thought, staring at the curve of Jane’s handwriting just visible across the table, “…then feelings like this will arise.”

Possessiveness.

Fear.

The ache of possibly losing something unspoken.

A chair scraped lightly against the floor. Ethan blinked back to the present just in time to see Astron watching him.

Not glancing.

Watching.

Those pale violet eyes fixed squarely on his face with unsettling clarity.

“Your gaze is perturbed, it appears,” Astron said flatly.

Ethan blinked. “Heh?”

“You’re staring too long,” Astron continued, voice as smooth and dry as polished stone. “Your focus is drifting. Your face is unsettled.”

Ethan straightened, half-embarrassed. “What are you—?”

Astron cut him off. “You are quite a lucky guy.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Astron tilted his head, not bothering to lower his voice. “Exactly what I said.”

“That is the point that I didn’t get.”

“Then it is your problem.”

Ethan exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “You really need to stop talking in riddles, man.”

Astron shrugged without even looking up from his tablet. “If I were to say everything clearly,” he said in that maddeningly calm tone, “you’d lose your ability to think.”

He tapped lightly on the corner of the screen. “Rock that brain. It’s not there for decoration.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Are you… are you saying I’m stupid?”

Astron didn’t even blink. “Quite a lot of times, indeed.”

A beat of silence followed.

Ethan just stared at him, expression torn between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “…I swear, one of these days I’m gonna beat some humility into you.”

Astron finally looked up, his violet eyes faintly glinting with that dry, unbothered sharpness. “You’re welcome to try.”

Jane, at this point, was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Emily let out a small breath, murmuring under her breath, “Are they always like this?”

“I don’t know….It is also my first time.”

Ethan rubbed his temples, muttering, “This guy’s going to drive me insane.”

“Better insane than oblivious,” Astron said without missing a beat.

Ethan pointed at him. “See? That right there. That exact tone.”

Astron only raised an eyebrow. “Still not thinking?”

Jane let out a quiet laugh she didn’t quite mean to, and Ethan, flustered but now smiling too, dropped his head onto his folded arms.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered into the crook of his arm.

But he didn’t sound frustrated anymore.

Not really.