The Green Eyed Immortal.

Mirielle felt the weight of his stare pressing down on her, but she refused to look away. She was still flustered from his earlier accusation, her heart hammering against her ribs, but the shock was now giving way to something else, anger.

Eren had questioned her integrity as if she were some entitled girl exploiting her lineage. He didn't know her and he didn't know how much she despised being seen as anything other than herself.

Yet, before she could gather her thoughts and push back, his lips curled slightly—not into a smile, but something sharper. Something taunting.

"Hm," he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, "so you can talk."

Mirielle blinked, thrown off by the comment.

Eren tilted his head, silver hair catching the moonlight in a way that made him look even more otherworldly. "I was beginning to think you were dumb. It took quite some time for you to answer a simple question."

Her breath hitched.

Dumb?

Did he just—?

For the first time in her life, Mirielle felt something stir inside her, a spark, a heat that had nothing to do with elemental power and everything to do with sheer, burning irritation.

People had called her quiet before. Shy. Reserved. Awkward.

But never dumb that too twice within the same day.

Her lips parted in disbelief before pressing into a thin line.

She didn't know what came over her, but she shot back before she could stop herself, "Oh? I was under the impression that professors at this academy were supposed to be intelligent, kind and helpful. But perhaps I was mistaken."

The words left her mouth before she could think them through.

Silence stretched between them.

Eren's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, surprise, perhaps? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

But then, he chuckled.

It was a soft, cold sound that sent an odd shiver down her spine.

"Interesting," he said,. "So you do have a tongue. A sharp one at that."

Mirielle knew she should stop. She knew it was reckless to provoke a professor, especially one as unreadable and powerful as him.

But something about the way he stood there, so composed, so unbothered, so insufferably superior made her want to push further.

"Of course I do," she said, tilting her chin up slightly, refusing to let him look down on her figuratively, at least, since he still towered over her. "Or did you think I was some timid little girl who couldn't defend herself?"

Eren hummed, unimpressed. "That was my assumption, yes."

Mirielle clenched her fists.

He wasn't even pretending to be polite.

It wasn't the first time someone had underestimated her. But it was the first time someone had so blatantly mocked her intelligence and silence.

And for some reason, it stung.

More than she wanted to admit.

More than it should.

She took a step forward, her golden eyes meeting his green ones in a challenge.

"Well, then, Professor Valen," she said, her voice steadier than she expected. "I do apologise for shattering your assumption, but I assure you, I'm quite capable of speech."

Eren watched her, his face unreadable.

Then, he exhaled through his nose, almost as if he were… amused.

Mirielle had no idea why, but that only irritated her more.

His lips curved not into a smirk, not into a smile, but into something that barely counted as an expression at all.

"You're quite different from what I expected," he murmured.

She frowned. "And what exactly did you expect?"

Eren didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step closer.

It wasn't a threatening movement, nor did it hold any particular weight. But for some reason, Mirielle felt her breath hitch.

He stood close enough now that the moonlight illuminated the sharp edges of his face—the high cheekbones, the angular jaw, the slight furrow of his brow.

"I expected someone quieter. Someone who wouldn't dare talk back," he said simply.

Mirielle narrowed her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Disappoint?" He arched a brow. "No. I think I might prefer this version of you."

That statement threw her off.

Her brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eren didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the silence linger, as if observing her reaction.

Then, as if he had lost interest, he turned on his heel, his long silver hair shifting with the movement.

"Go back to your dorm, Mirielle."

She blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift.

"What?"

Eren glanced over his shoulder. "It's late. You shouldn't be wandering around."

She bristled. "I wasn't—"

But he was already walking away.

Mirielle stared after him, her mind still reeling from their interaction.

Her pulse was unsteady, her body tense, and yet…

Yet she couldn't help but feel that this was the first time in her life she had truly stood up for herself.

And oddly enough…

She liked it.