The common room of the Foundry residence was quite lively that afternoon. Some students used the free hours to study, some argued over a console, and from one sofa came a television nobody was really watching.
On one of the main sofas was Ervin Dunraven, reclining with one leg over the edge of the seat and his phone in his hands. His expression suggested that the entire world owed him five minutes of peace and quiet.
Sitting next to him, Zita Callarà had commandeered part of his space without showing the slightest remorse. A small reddish flame danced between her fingers as she distractedly followed the news.
"...authorities are investigating a new robbery attributed to the individual known as the Glass Prince. The suspect reportedly broke into a jewelry store in the Central district this morning, making off with pieces valued at hundreds of thousands of credits and causing significant material damage. Police confirm that the individual possesses the ability to generate a crystalline structure of extraordinary resilience..."
The images showed the shattered display window, several damaged vehicles, and fragments of dark crystal scattered across the sidewalk. Then a security recording appeared: a figure dressed in black, with long, messy hair, walking through the jewelry store entrance as crystalline plates covered his arms.
"Authorities are asking for citizen cooperation and recommend not confronting the suspect. Corvane remains at large..."
Ervin looked up from his phone.
"The Glass Prince?"
he muttered.
"Seriously? Who names themselves that? Is the villain marketing department on vacation?"
Zita snorted with laughter.
"Says the guy who strolls around between shadows and thinks he's funny."
"I don't think I'm funny. I'm a public service."
"You're a headache with legs."
"And yet, here you are."
Zita nudged him with her shoulder, making him smile. Ervin looked back at the screen, just as the images showed the remains of a safe torn from a luxury home.
"Jokes aside, though, the guy is starting to draw too much attention"
she commented.
"Banks, jewelry stores, private collections... Seems like anything he likes ends up being his."
"A revolutionary concept of private property"
Ervin replied.
"I'm sure there's an economist crying somewhere."
At that moment, the door to the common room opened.
Ervin didn't pay attention immediately. Neither did Zita, too busy arguing with him about whether this so-called prince looked like an idiot with a superiority complex or just a regular idiot.
Then Ervin looked up toward the entrance.
His gaze lingered on you for a moment, assessing your presence with a calm curiosity. Then he shifted slightly on the sofa and moved aside the backpack that was occupying the adjacent seat.
"Hey, you. Are you here to study, to socialize, or to find out how long it takes this academy to destroy your will to live?"
Zita turned her head toward you and raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Don't mind him. He's this charming with everyone."
Ervin put a hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded.
"I try so hard and this is the reputation I get."
The television continued talking about Corvane in the background, while Ervin waited for your answer with a half-smile.