yandere villainess is obsessed with me

The New Boy and the Unseen Storm

Grey's first day at Arcana Regalia Academy began with a lightning strike. Not a metaphorical one—though his nerves crackled like live wires—but an actual bolt that split the sky as he trudged through the wrought-iron gates. Students scattered, shrieking as rain lashed the courtyard, but Grey barely flinched. Thunder followed, a growl so deep it rattled his bones.

"Dramatic entrance," Vermis mused, hidden in his satchel as a battered notebook. "Subtlety remains elusive, I see."

Grey adjusted his hood, masking his face in shadow. The Storm Sigil on his palm prickled, as if laughing. Thanks for the welcome, he thought bitterly.

The academy loomed ahead, its spires clawing at the storm clouds. Grey's chest tightened. Somewhere in those halls, Stephanie Redwyne—his former charge, his accidental obsession, his reason for this absurd charade—was carving her legacy as the youngest prodigy in a century. And here he was, a "shy country boy" with a fake name and a god's curse, about to walk into her frostbitten orbit.

The Ice Queen Cometh

Stephanie's reputation preceded her like a blizzard.

"She froze Professor Thorn's teacup last week," whispered a first-year, huddling with her friends in the grand hall. "Just because he suggested she 'smile more'!"

"I heard she dueled the entire third-year class," another added. "Turned the arena into a skating rink!"

Grey lingered at the edge of the crowd, his hood pulled low. He'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times—how to breathe, how to stand, how to smother every instinct to call her name. But nothing prepared him for the reality of her: Stephanie sweeping into the hall like winter incarnate, her rose-gold curls pinned back with ice crystals, her uniform crisp and untouched by the chaos around her.

A hush fell. Students pressed themselves against the walls as she passed, their whispers dying mid-sentence. Grey's heart hammered. She's taller. Sharper. Colder.

Then her gaze flickered toward him.

He froze.

For one breathless second, sapphire eyes locked onto his shadowed face—calculating, probing, searching. The Storm Sigil flared, lightning dancing beneath his skin.

She looked away.

"Pathetic," she muttered, though whether to him or the gawking crowd, Grey couldn't tell.

The Sparring Incident (Or, How to Accidentally Reveal Everything)

Grey's first practical exam was a disaster waiting to happen.

Professor Thorn—a man who'd clearly learned nothing from the teacup incident—paired students for combat drills. Grey prayed to every god he'd ever mocked to avoid Stephanie.

The gods, as usual, ignored him.

"Grey," Thorn called, "versus Stephanie."

A collective gasp. Students scrambled to the observation deck, eager to witness the Ice Queen obliterate the "lightning hermit."

Stephanie stepped onto the arena floor, her wand glinting like a shard of glacier. "I don't have time for this. Surrender now."

Grey's mouth went dry. Her voice was deeper, edged with a bitterness that hadn't been there before. Because of me, he realized. Because she thinks I'm dead.

He raised his hands, channeling a weak flicker of lightning. "I'll… try not to be a disappointment."

She attacked without warning.

Ice surged across the floor, jagged spikes erupting toward him. Grey dodged, his Storm Sigil flaring as he summoned a shield of crackling energy. The collision sent steam billowing through the arena, obscuring them both.

"You're holding back," Stephanie hissed, her voice cutting through the fog. "Why?"

Because if I don't, I'll fry the arena. And you.

"Not… holding back," Grey lied, deflecting another ice spear. "Just… bad at this!"

She scoffed. "Liar."

Her next spell wasn't ice. It was a blizzard—a swirling vortex of frost and wind that tore at his cloak and stole the breath from his lungs. The Storm Sigil roared in response, lightning lashing out uncontrollably.

The arena exploded in light and steam.

When the chaos cleared, Grey stood unharmed, the ground around him scorched and smoldering. Stephanie's uniform was singed at the hem, her eyes wide with… interest?

"Not bad, hermit," she said, turning away. "Try harder next time."

The Library and the Lingering Ghost

Grey found solace in the library, a cavernous hall of ancient tomes and dust motes dancing in stained-glass light. He'd spent the afternoon dodging questions ("How'd you survive the Ice Queen?!") and faking incompetence. Now, he slumped at a corner table, nursing a mug of terrible cafeteria tea.

"She didn't recognize you," Vermis said, materializing as a floating grimoire now that they were alone. "A miracle, given your performance."

"She noticed me," Grey muttered. "That's worse."

Footsteps echoed. Grey yanked his hood up as a familiar voice cut through the silence.

"You."

Stephanie stood at the end of the aisle, her arms crossed. A book on thunder magic hovered beside her, its pages flipping autonomously.

Grey's tea went cold. "L-Lady Redwyne."

"Your magic," she said, ignoring the title. "It's unstable. Reckless. Like someone taught you the theory but not the control."

Because I taught myself in a jungle while pretending to be dead.

"I'm… self-taught," he said.

She stepped closer, her gaze piercing. "Why thunder magic?"

"It chose me," he said truthfully.

For a moment, she almost smiled. "Magic doesn't choose. It's a tool. A weapon."

"Maybe yours is," Grey said, bolder than he intended. "Mine feels… alive."

Stephanie's icy mask faltered. She looked away, her voice softening. "There was someone I knew once. He said fire felt alive too."

Grey's breath hitched. "What happened to him?"

"He died." She snapped the book shut and turned to leave. "Don't follow me."

The Roommate and the Uninvited Bond

Grey's dorm roommate was a disaster in human form.

"Name's Felix!" the boy announced, upside-down on his bunk, his legs dangling like a bat. "Water mage! Amateur poet! Professional nuisance!"

Grey stared at the chaos: clothes strewn across the floor, half-eaten sandwiches fossilizing on the desk, and a goldfish swimming in a wineglass labeled Steve. "You've… made yourself at home."

Felix flipped upright, grinning. "You're the lightning guy who survived the Ice Queen! We're gonna be legends."

"Or expelled."

"Same thing!" Felix tossed him a jellybean. "So what's your deal? Country boy? Runaway prince? Secret assassin?"

Grey choked. "What?"

"Assassins always play the 'quiet loner' bit. Classic trope!"

"I'm just… ordinary."

Felix snorted. "Ordinary people don't make Stephanie Redwyne angry-smile. She looked at you like she wanted to freeze you and thaw you out."

Grey's chest ached. "She hates me."

"Nah. She hates everyone. You she's… curious about." Felix leaned in, whispering theatrically. "Want my advice? Lean into it. Send her a poem. 'Roses are red, lightning is blue, let's conquer the world—' "

"No poems," Grey said firmly.

"Fine. How about a duel? Girls love danger!"

"No."

The Storm Beneath the Calm

That night, Grey stood on the academy's highest tower, the Storm Sigil pulsing as lightning danced between his fingers. Below, the campus slept, oblivious to the tempest in their midst.

"She's close," Vermis warned. "And your control is slipping."

"I know," Grey whispered.

Stephanie was in the courtyard, practicing alone. Even from here, he could see the ice fractals spiraling around her, beautiful and brutal. The Sigil surged, drawn to her magic like a magnet.

Balance, it whispered. Remember your oath.

But what was balance when his past and present collided? When every spark in his veins begged to reach out and say, It's me. I'm here.

A gust of wind caught his hood, tugging it down. Across the courtyard, Stephanie paused, her head tilting as if sensing his gaze.

Grey vanished into the storm before she could turn.