5. CHAPTER 5
MOON
Coercion. The classroom smelled of chalk dust and old wood. Tall windows let in cold gray light.
Professor Korolev wrote the word on the chalkboard in sharp, unforgiving strokes. Tall. Dark messy hair. Stubble. A scar cutting through one eyebrow. He turned and fixed those wet-stone eyes on Sawyer beside me.
“At what point does persuasion become coercion?”
Kaelan de Valois from Vesper Court answered first, practically preening. Dark wavy hair fell into sharp light eyes, his expensive watch flashing every time he gestured, that permanent smug tilt to his mouth.
Always hungry for the spotlight.
“When it serves the greater stability of the institution, Professor,” he said. “Power must sometimes bend the unwilling. Isn’t that right, Noah?”
Kaelan leaned back in his chair and shot a smile toward the back of the room. I looked over my shoulder. A thin Dahlia boy with messy light-brown hair and oversized black glasses adjusted the frames with one finger, voice small. “Eh… yes, Kaelan.”
Kaelan grinned.
Typical Vesper bully shit. Sawyer waved a hand, dismissing Kaelan completely, voice edged with mischief. “Or when the persuader starts enjoying how prettily the other person resists… right up until they don’t.”
A few people laughed. Korolev’s jaw flexed. He didn’t smile.
I kept my voice even, clinical. “When refusal is no longer an option. When it becomes a liability.”
Korolev looked from face to face. No one breathed easily.
“Mr. de Valois mistakes coercion for governance.” His voice sliced clean. “Mr. Whitlock mistakes it for something far more intimate.”
His eyes flicked to Sawyer, pinning, gone, then locked on me. “Mr. Moon is closest. But even that underestimates how sweet the slide into true coercion tastes… for the one who seizes control and the one who finally stops lying that he wants to fight.”
Sawyer’s knee pressed mine under the desk.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck.
Then the note slid into my palm.
I opened it before my brain caught up.
Why is Redemption Ethics being taught by a man who looks like he needs a priest, a lawyer, and a shallow grave?
My gut knotted hard.
Sawyer’s head snapped forward. “He’s coming. Eat the fucking paper, Moon. Eat it right now.”
I shoved it back, fingers already trembling around the edges. “No way. Eat it yourself, you idiot.”
Too late.
Sawyer lunged for it.
Korolev was faster.
He snatched the note from between us before Sawyer’s fingers could close around it, unfolded the paper, and read. Slowly. Then again.
“Don’t read that,” Sawyer said quickly. Then, worse, softer: “Professor.”
The entire class went dead silent.
“Mr. Whitlock,” he said.
Sawyer lifted his chin, all false innocence. “Yes, Professor?”
“Your assessment is vivid.”
Sawyer’s smile sharpened. “Thank you.”
“It was not praise.”
“No? Shame. I was briefly proud of myself.”
Korolev held the folded note between two fingers. “Mr. Whitlock. My office at four o’clock.”
I didn’t breathe until Korolev turned away.
Sawyer slumped beside me, still grinning like a lunatic. But his leg bounced hard under the desk. The smile stayed locked in place. For half a second his face went completely blank, eyes distant.
I noticed. I always noticed. I just didn’t know what I was seeing. Then the grin snapped back. Same performance. Different mask.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to laugh.
The bell rang.
“Dismissed.”
“Moon. Let’s go.” Sawyer’s elbow dug into my side.
I blinked, stood, and followed him out.
Kaelan was already waiting by the door, practically vibrating.
“Careful, Hyun-seo,” he called, loud enough for half the hallway.
“All that perfect icy control in class… making everyone wonder if getting fucked by Ashbourne is Aster’s strategy this year, or if you’re just a desperate little freelancer spreading your legs for fun. ”
His grin widened. “Come on. Is he as rough as the rumors say? Does he make you choke on that big Irish cock?”
I kept my face blank.
Sawyer lunged. I caught his arm in a hard grip, fingers digging in with enough force to hold him in place.
Kaelan threw his head back and laughed. “So touchy! The drama is intriguing. Carry on, gentlemen.” He gave a little finger-wave.
I spoke before he could turn, voice quiet and perfectly controlled. “Careful, Kaelan. You’re always loudest when Noah is watching. Careful it doesn’t start looking less like intimidation and more like performance for his attention.”
His amusement faded. I adjusted my cuff. “Run along.” Fucking asshole.
Noah froze in the doorway, eyes darting between me and Kaelan, then hurried away without a word. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he never stand up to his own bully?
I hated this campus snark.
Kaelan was notorious for it. He threw shit like that to watch people squirm.
But… how the fuck did he know about Cillian and me?
Sawyer had already moved on by the time we reached the cafeteria. “You should’ve seen me on that steeplechase run the other night. Underground league is fucking insane, jumps in the dark, pure chaos. Best illegal shit on campus.” His fists were still tight at his sides, energy bouncing everywhere.
We passed the public Favor tally board in the main hall. Black marble slab. Brass inlays. Four enamel Court crests sat above the numbers—ivory star, silver moth, black serpent, powder-blue bloom.
A soft mechanical click. Numbers shifted. Vesper’s silver moth pulled further ahead. Aster’s ivory star sat stubbornly in second.
Vesper students clustered nearby, smug and whispering. One of them smirked in our direction. “Hey Aster boys, how’s second place feeling? Must be getting crowded down there.”
A group of Aster heirs stood off to the side, watching me. My performance was their performance. My failure would drag every single one of them down with me.
Sawyer didn’t miss a beat. He stuck his tongue out at the Vesper group and called out, loud enough for them to hear, “Jealousy looks fucking pathetic on you. In here you get to play king for five minutes, but out there you’re still nobody. Give us a day or two and Aster will own this academy.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the cafeteria, voice low just for me. “Relax, Moon. They’re all talk.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “You’re right.”
I didn’t believe it for a second. Keep your face blank. Shoulders straight. One crack and it’s over.
We pushed through the cafeteria doors. The air hit warm and heavy with fried food and coffee. Aster’s section sat on the right under the high windows, polished wood tables already half-filled.
Vivienne looked up the second we entered. Her girlfriends sat around her. She slid over on the bench to make space for us.
Sawyer crashed into the seat. “Korolev wants to see me again this afternoon. Worth every second, though.”
Vivienne lifted a brow. “Didn’t I tell you to stop provoking Professor Korolev? This is starting to look less like rebellion and more like a full-blown crush.”
“You know you love the chaos, Vivi.”
I stayed silent. The tally board still burned behind my eyes. Father’s expectations. Coffee. Now.
My gaze found him across the room.
Cillian.
At the Thorn table. He looked up from his plate and that dark, hungry stare burned straight through me.
“Ashbourne,” Kaelan called. “Is staring at Aster’s prince official Thorn strategy now, or are you freelancing by trying to get into his pants in public?”
A few Vesper heirs laughed. Then more tables joined. The sound spread fast. Half the cafeteria was laughing now.
Thorn didn’t.
Cillian’s chair scraped back. He started to rise; eyes locked on Kaelan.
Aleksei’s hand closed over his shoulder. Hard. “Sit.”
Cillian didn’t look at him. For one brutal second, I thought he wouldn’t listen. Then he sat.
Kaelan’s grin widened, glowing with pure glee. “Good boy.”
My stomach knotted hard enough to bruise. No. Not here. Not in front of the entire fucking academy. One public reaction from Cillian and every Favor number on that board becomes my problem.
“I have practice,” I said. “Need to go.”
“Hyun. Are you okay?” Vivienne caught my wrist.
“Don’t listen to him,” she added quietly, eyes sharp toward Kaelan. “He’s a bully who gets off on attention.”
I forced a tired breath. “You sure you can’t just pretend to be my girlfriend? Like at Harvard.”
She smiled. “My dear Hyun, that would break Mr. Ashbourne’s heart.”
I gave her a deadpan look. “Oh. You’re funny. Bye.”
She didn’t let go. Yanked my arm instead and pressed a cold apple into my palm along with a protein shake. “At least eat something before practice. Actually eat it.”
I nodded once. Took the first bite of the apple as I turned away. Crisp and sweet. It tasted like nothing.
“Oh, and Hyun,” she added, softer. “Tell Yuna I got her those shoes she’d been talking about. I had them shipped this morning. They should arrive soon.”
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
“Tell her when she FaceTimes you.”
Cillian’s stare drilled into my back the entire way out.
I didn’t look back.
Maybe tomorrow people would move on.
***
The afternoon light slanted low across the courtyard, catching on the black-and-ivory Aster star carved above every arch. Students passed in little groups, discussing professors, lunch reservations, and which heir had already slipped. Like me. I needed a plan.
“Hyun?”
Zara stood beneath the nearest colonnade. Dark curls pinned back tight, cool brown eyes, cream silk blouse tucked into trousers that cost more than most people’s tuition. She held her tablet like a briefing memo, senator’s daughter through and through.
“Zara,” I said, surprised into honesty. “I had no idea you were at Evermourne.”
She smiled. “Likewise, Hyun.”
We hadn’t been close in the NYC private school circuit, more like two satellites orbiting the same galaxy of galas, donor dinners, and carefully curated scandals. But we understood the game. Her father’s Senate seat, my family’s House of Moon expectations. Optics were currency.
She glanced at the fencing bag cutting into my shoulder. “So you’re still fencing. I need to come watch one of your matches sometime.”
“You should.”
“And how’s Yuna? Still terrorizing everyone in that adorable way?”
I managed a short laugh that didn’t reach my eyes. “She’s good.”
Should I ask her?
I exhaled through my nose. Shifted the fencing bag again.
“I need… a favor.” The words stuck. I looked at the ivy on the column instead of her face. “I know we weren’t exactly friends back in New York. But would you… be my girlfriend? For optics.”
Zara’s mouth curved. She pulled out her phone, unlocked it with a quick swipe of a manicured nail, and held it out. The screen glowed soft against her skin. “You might want to see this first.”
I took the phone. My thumb hovered. The Gallery flooded the screen. Clips looping. Screenshots multiplying. Threads exploding.
Cillian Ashbourne crossing the nave.
Thorn heir in Aster pew.
His hand buried deep in Moon’s hair while the prince just sat there.
Prince didn’t even flinch.
Aster has a Thorn problem.
Photos of those scarred fingers threaded through my strands hit hard. Too fucking obvious. Heat crawled up my neck. My stomach twisted as the comments poured in.
omg Cillian Ashbourne sat with Moon Hyun-seo during initiation… do they know each other??????
“Thorn + Aster??? this is insane”
“Moon looking back like that… sir the OPTICS”
“legacy heir folding for a criminal? embarrassing”
“you can’t trust the Irish, everyone knows that”
“I thought Vivi and Hyun were dating at Harvard?? did they break up???”
“bet this is one of the academy games. Blood Writ someone call it”
“this is staged. has to be”
“they’re so cute stop i’m screaming”
My knees almost buckled. The phone suddenly weighed too much. Everyone was talking about me. About him. Bile burned the back of my tongue.
The entire academy had already written the story for me.
Father would see this. House of Moon would see this. “What the hell?”
Well, fuck.
One fucking incident and I'd handed Thorn exactly what they wanted.
Zara watched me. “That’s all anyone’s talking about on The Gallery. You and Mr. Ashbourne. They’re calling it the nave incident. Creative, right?”
“There’s nothing between us,” I said.
Zara’s smile turned knowing. “Of course not. That’s why you’re asking a senator’s daughter to play girlfriend on day two.”
I handed the phone back. My fingers brushed hers.
“Why not Vivi?” Zara asked.
“Vivienne has abandoned me to pursue romance and personal fulfillment.” I kept my tone even. “She wants to date. Apparently, my current situation ranks below her social calendar.” I exhaled once. “Selfish, really.”
Zara’s mouth twitched, then she laughed, cutting through the courtyard hum. “She would say that. But to be fair, she’d also be right.”
“I only need optics,” I said. “You know how important that is. Better than anyone.”
Zara studied me, head tilted.
“In return, I want access.”
My eyes narrowed. “Access to what?”
“The Whitlocks,” Zara said. “The right Aster functions. Patronage introductions when they matter. Public association with the House of Moon name.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s generous.”
Zara shrugged. “Alright then. Good luck with Ashbourne.”
She turned to leave. My hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Terms, Hyun.” She tapped her nail once against her phone.
“Public proximity when required. Handholding if optics demand it. A dance at formal events. Cheek kisses for photos. One real kiss only if absolutely unavoidable. And you will not humiliate me, undermine me, or let him use me as leverage against you.”
“Yes. Fine. All of it.” I answered too quickly. “Do we have an arrangement?”
Zara held out her hand. “We have an arrangement.”
I shook it. Her grip was firm.
She left.
Halfway across the Court I opened The Gallery. Cillian’s hand in my hair. Comments flooding. Okay. Fix this.
I closed the app.