Samael – POV
Alice suddenly shifted into what I could only describe as professional mode.
Not completely, though.
The playful girl from a moment ago didn't disappear. She was still there, just… layered underneath something more focused. Her posture straightened slightly, her expression grew thoughtful, and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes softened into something studious.
But every now and then that playful glimmer returned, like she was enjoying the role far more than she let on.
She turned slightly to her side and pulled a large folder from beside her chair. It wasn't a simple school folder either. This thing looked like a portable art studio - wide, sturdy, and clearly filled with far more equipment than the average student carried around daily.
"This is my personal folder," she explained, opening it and revealing neatly organised pencils, charcoal sticks, erasers, sketch papers, and a few canvases.
"This type stays in the classroom," she continued. "You should ask Mrs Harper to assign you one so you can keep your supplies here too."
I nodded silently.
Truthfully, I was only half listening.
The other half of my attention was completely occupied by…
Her voice.
And her face.
And the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she clearly enjoyed.
Hypnotised might not have been an exaggeration.
"So," she said, tapping the task sheet Mrs Harper had given me earlier, "the main assignment for the year is an artwork series."
She slid the paper between us.
"Everyone has to produce at least four drawings. Different pieces, but they all have to follow the same theme."
Her finger moved down the list.
"You can choose from these."
I glanced at the options briefly before looking back at her.
"What did you pick?"
Alice tilted her head slightly.
"Nature and environment."
"Do you like that theme?" I asked.
Her smile turned a little more thoughtful.
"Mm… I do," she said lightly. "Nature is… inspiring."
There was a tiny pause before she added,
"And it gives you a lot of freedom."
The answer sounded casual, but something about it felt just vague enough to hide another reason.
I didn't ask further.
However…
Her folder was made of semi-transparent plastic.
And with my eyesight, "semi-transparent" was basically the same as open display.
Inside, I could clearly see a large sketch.
A majestic eagle soaring above a mountain range, its wings spread wide as if it owned the sky itself.
The drawing was stunning.
But what made me pause was the colour of the eagle's feathers.
The shade looked strangely similar to the colour of my own wings.
Normally, that wouldn't mean much. Eagles came in plenty of variations of brown, white and gold.
Still…
Something about the exact tone felt a little too familiar to be pure coincidence.
Alice noticed where my eyes had drifted.
"It's bad manners to look at someone's work without permission," she said, sliding the folder slightly out of my line of sight.
Her tone wasn't scolding though.
If anything, it sounded faintly amused.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Then I'll blame curiosity," I said with a small smile. "My eyes caught something interesting before my manners could catch up."
I gestured lightly toward the folder.
"But from the little I saw… it looks incredible."
She gave me an amused look, the corner of her mouth lifting.
But only for a moment.
Then the teacher returned.
She pulled out a fresh A4 sheet and placed it between us.
"Alright," she said, tapping the paper with her pencil. "Lesson one."
And just like that, the class officially began.
She started with the basics, explaining simple shapes, structural lines, and the foundations of sketching while her pencil moved across the page with easy confidence. Circles appeared first, then squares, then a few guiding lines that slowly turned those shapes into something more recognisable as she talked about how every drawing, no matter how complicated it looked, usually started with something simple.
Even though I listened carefully to everything she said, part of my attention kept drifting somewhere else entirely.
Her hands.
They were small and delicate, moving gracefully across the paper while the pencil seemed to glide between her fingers as if it belonged there. Simple guiding lines slowly formed into silhouettes while she explained how shapes connected together, and then she demonstrated shading techniques, the pencil sliding across the paper in smooth strokes that made the drawing gain depth almost instantly.
The paper rested between us while she worked, her right hand sketching while she talked.
We were sitting quite close, close enough that our shoulders were lightly touching from time to time.
At one point, while she was explaining how to connect two shapes into a single structure, I raised my hand slightly and pointed to a part of the drawing.
"So this line connects here?" I asked, moving my hand across the page to show what I meant.
She leaned in at the exact same moment to look closer.
Our hands brushed.
I noticed immediately how cold her skin was.
Of course, it wasn't the first time I had touched a vampire.
Yet she was different.
Her skin was cold, yes, but not unpleasantly so. Instead, the sensation felt oddly refreshing, like when you're overheated and press something cool against your forehead to calm down. The faint chill carried a strange soothing effect that made the brief contact linger in my thoughts longer than it probably should have.
Alice noticed it too.
For a split second, her hand stilled.
Then she quickly moved it away, the motion small and almost instinctive, the kind of habit someone develops after years of hiding something they don't want others to notice.
From the corner of her eye, she glanced at my face.
She was clearly checking my reaction.
I simply looked back at her with a calm expression and a small, reassuring smile, enough to show that I had noticed… and that it didn't bother me in the slightest.
Her gaze lingered on my face for a moment.
Then she relaxed.
A faint smile appeared on her lips, and something in her expression softened, as if my reaction had quietly reassured her more than she expected. After that, she returned her attention to the paper and continued the explanation as if nothing unusual had happened.
The lesson continued for several more minutes before she finally set the pencil down.
"Alright," she said. "That's enough theory."
She leaned back slightly and gave me a playful look.
"I might have thrown a lot of information at you all at once," she added with a small laugh. "So if you forget some of it later, that's completely fine. I can always explain it again."
I didn't answer.
In reality, I had memorised every single detail with ridiculous precision. It wasn't just the techniques she explained, but also her voice, her gestures, her expressions, and every tiny movement she made while drawing.
From the outside, I probably looked like a normal student listening carefully during a lesson.
Inside, however, I felt more like one of those overly enthusiastic fathers from old movies who filmed every second of their baby's life the moment cameras became affordable.
"Your turn," she said, sliding the blank sheet toward me with an encouraging smile.
For the first few seconds, my drawing looked… mediocre.
That part was intentional.
Unfortunately, my instant mastery ability was not helping the situation. While she had been explaining the techniques, my brain had already memorised and replicated every movement she made.
Which meant I now had the rather ridiculous problem of trying to draw badly.
Even when I tried, the result still looked… decent.
Alice watched the page as my pencil moved, her eyes narrowing slightly with quiet curiosity.
"You know," she said slowly, tilting her head just a little, "you're not nearly as bad as you claimed to be."
There was an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
I laughed softly.
"I swear I've drawn less than an hour in my entire life," I said. "And the fifteen minutes from today are included in that total."
She studied my face for a moment before smiling again.
"Well," she said lightly, "either you're telling the truth, or you're an excellent liar. I'm choosing to believe the first option."
Then her eyes brightened with sudden curiosity.
"Actually… show me your handwriting."
I blinked.
"My handwriting?"
"Yes," she said, leaning a little closer while resting her chin lightly on her hand. "I once heard that people with neat handwriting sometimes pick up drawing faster because they already have good control over small movements."
Her eyes sparkled with interest.
"So now I want to test that theory."
I considered that for a moment.
"What should I write?"
She smiled mischievously, clearly enjoying herself.
"Something beautiful."
I thought about it for a second.
Then a small smile formed on my lips.
Carefully, I lowered the pencil and wrote a single name on the page.
Alice Cullen
The letters flowed across the paper in an elegant cursive style I had learned online for signing formal documents.
Alice stared at the writing for a moment.
"Wow."
Her eyes widened slightly as she leaned closer to look at the page.
"That's so beautiful!"
There was genuine delight in her voice now.
"You have to teach me how to write like that!"
Before I could answer, her hand lifted and gently touched my shoulder in excitement.
The contact hit me like a warm wave, and for a brief moment I felt the same as when I'm flying above the clouds.
After a second, she leaned closer, her expression bright with curiosity.
"So?" she asked eagerly. "Will you teach me?"
I smiled and shook my head slightly.
"Of course I can," I said calmly. "Although I could also teach you an alternative style so yours would be completely unique."
Her reaction was immediate.
"No."
She pointed firmly at the paper.
"I want this one."
Then she looked up at me with playful determination.
"Exactly like yours."
I raised an eyebrow before laughing quietly.
She tilted her head with exaggerated innocence.
"What?"
"Of course, my lady," I said with a small dramatic nod. "Your wish is my command."
Alice burst into laughter, her voice light and musical.
Then she straightened slightly and answered in the same theatrical tone.
"Very good," she said. "Your loyalty is appreciated."
Unfortunately, our peaceful moment did not go unnoticed.
A girl sitting in front of us suddenly turned around with an annoyed expression and looked directly at us.
"Could you two tone it down?" she said sharply. "Some people are trying to concentrate."
To be fair, we probably had been a little loud as well, but the real reason behind her irritation was painfully obvious.
Envy.
Something inside me reacted before I even had time to think about it.
My gaze snapped toward her.
The change was purely instinctive.
My pupils dilated as my focus locked onto her with the same intensity as a predator looking at its prey. The girl froze under the sudden weight of that attention, and the confidence she had shown a second earlier faltered almost instantly.
For a moment, she looked like someone who had just realised she might have made a serious mistake.
The girl shifted in her seat, her expression changing quickly as uncertainty replaced annoyance. She looked away for a moment, then glanced back with visible hesitation before finally turning around again and facing the front of the classroom.
Alice had noticed the change.
Her gaze moved between us with clear interest, as if she had just discovered something new.
But there was no confusion in her expression.
If anything, she looked… intrigued.
Then she gently placed her hand over my forearm.
The touch was light and deliberate.
And somehow she seemed completely certain it would work.
The moment her fingers made contact, the tension inside me faded almost instantly, like a switch had been flipped somewhere in my mind.
She turned toward the girl with a polite smile.
"Sorry," Alice said calmly. "I might have been a little loud while explaining."
The girl gave a quick nod without turning fully around again, clearly deciding that the situation was already resolved.
Alice then looked back at me.
"Are you alright?"
Her voice carried genuine concern, but there was something else hidden there as well - curiosity, maybe even a small amount of quiet satisfaction.
I exhaled slowly.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."
It was the first time I had experienced something like this.
Alice and I had been sharing a moment, and the interruption had felt strangely intrusive, almost as if someone had stepped directly into my territory without permission.
But the moment Alice touched my arm, my attention had shifted completely toward her, and the irritation disappeared almost instantly.
Alice turned slightly toward me again, her left hand still resting lightly on my forearm.
Then she leaned closer.
Her lips stopped just beside my ear while her right hand rested lightly on my shoulder.
"You're quite territorial," she whispered softly.
There was unmistakable amusement in her voice.
"It's… kind of attractive."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"But one thing you should know…"
Her eyes sparkled with playful confidence.
"I'm like that too."
Then she smiled faintly.
"So you might want to be ready for it."
At that exact moment, the bell rang.
Alice quickly began gathering her things. Before leaving, she brushed my shoulder lightly with her arm and looked back at me over her shoulder.
"Remember," she said casually, "you have to text me every evening."
I nodded without thinking, still caught in the echo of her words.
My gaze followed her as she walked toward the door, her steps light and relaxed while her hips swayed slightly with each movement.
She laughed softly before disappearing into the hallway.
And just like that, if Alice had been the one stunned earlier… now it was my turn.
I remained seated for a moment, still staring at the doorway she had just passed through.
Earlier, her touch had already melted me a little, but when she leaned close and whispered into my ear, it felt like my entire internal world had suffered catastrophic damage.
In my head, a large Victorian-era ship - my mind, normally calm and well under control - was suddenly fighting for survival in the middle of a violent storm of emotions.
Huge waves crashed against the hull while the wind howled like an angry beast determined to tear the vessel apart.
A sailor ran across the deck, nearly slipping on the soaked planks.
"Captain! Captain!" he shouted, waving his arms wildly. "We're taking on water! Starboard side breach!"
Another sailor rushed past him carrying a bucket that was clearly far too small to solve the problem.
Somewhere near the bow, a third man was already yelling, "We're doomed! Abandon the ship!"
High above them all, standing on the quarterdeck with forced dignity, the captain gripped the railing and stared into the raging sky.
"What in God's name is going on up there?!" he shouted at the heavens, as if the storm itself had personally chosen today to ruin his perfectly organised voyage.
Lightning flashed.
Right then, reality returned.
The classroom was empty.
Only Mrs Harper remained near her desk, calmly organising art supplies.
She looked over at me.
"Are you alright, dear?"
I sighed quietly.
"I'm fine."
I began collecting my things, but as I stood up, a small smile slowly formed on my face.
What a woman.