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Mondays were the devil, especially when Satan's face was the first thing she had to see as soon as she got to school. What a pleasant start to a fine, Monday morning, am I right?

(Y/n) despised Mondays for many reasons, and it being the start of the school week was one of them. She had a new reason now beside it being called "Monday"—who even came up with that name—and that reason had the name of Tristan freaking K—

K—

Something.

This is a problem, she thought as she sat down in front of the blue-eyed male. It's been like five sessions now and I don't remember his last name. Usually, I wouldn't care but he would go banshee if he finds out.

She needed to find out what his surname without him finding out. Because Fortuna decided to make her life especially worse today by making her already bad luck take a turn for the worst.

She had a form to fill out from the program. And she needed to write her tutor's full name under hers. Huzzah.

Tristan had his own forms to fill out so she couldn't just say, "Hey, fill out your part and I'll do the rest!" If she did that, it would be the second coming of the Ice Age with the glare he was sure to give her. Why couldn't she have gotten a nicer and normal tutor? Why, Mrs. Richards, why?

(Y/n) wasn't sure if this was much better than spending almost an hour in math class. At least she could sleep there without getting hit with a ruler. Last week was a ruler and this week? Is that a riding crop I see in his bag?

The (h/c)-haired girl turned towards her all-time savior, Google. Maybe if I search up his first name I'll find out his last name! And so she did, typing the male's name gleefully into the search engine without considering that there were thousands upon thousands of people in the world named Tristan. But who knew? Maybe this Tristan was the most popular one.

The first hit was Tristan from a folktale. It was definitely not him—he looked like a Scandinavian bear crossed with a yeti. The second was a video about the Kardashians and their love life. Yep, definitely not him. That would break so many laws.

She changed her keywords to "Tristan" and "Fortuna Institute." She should've known all Fortuna files were classified and were normally impossible to leak to the public. All she got were legends and places she never heard of. None of them were the right Tristan.

(A/N: Holy I got something when I searched up Fortuna Institute. And here I thought I was being creative 😭)

What does his dad do again? (Y/n) opened up her website, logged in as the admin, and opened up various threads in search of the blue-haired male's name. There had to be something about him. The good part about the website was that where people were afraid to spread rumors to talk bad about the P4 behind their back, they did so freely on this forum.

(Y/n) wanted to laugh and cry at their stupidity at times. But it was fine—she was 99% sure the P4 didn't know the website even existed. Okay, I got a hit. She opened up the thread. It was a series of back and forth exchanges between a few girls that had graduated last year. They were discussing college admissions, and the topic somehow turned towards Tristan's hair. What did the two even have in common? Maybe if I copy his hairstyle I'll get into Cambridge? Ha, fat chance.

She got "Ice Prince," "Tryst darling," and "Trishbear." She highly doubted any of those were his last name. If she dared to write them down on the form, she'd be suspended, expelled three times, and exiled to Antarctica. I like penguins.

The (h/c)-haired girl had to read through hundreds of text messages about how hot the guy looked and his cologne before she finally got to his last name.

Knight. It was freaking Knight.

He was anything but a knight, in her opinion. Weren't knights supposed to be chivalrous, courageous, valorous, and "insert more -ous words here?" He was more like the tyrannical king or brutal dictator that ruled with an iron fist. Tristan Knight? More like Tristan Tyrant. Then again, chivalry is dead.

Well, at least she got his last name. Even though the male in question was looking awfully displeased with the fact that she had spent the last few minutes on her phone. (Y/n) offered him an innocent smile and picked her pen back up. He watched with cold eyes as she filled in the blank fields and completed the page.

His expression didn't change as she pushed the form across the table. He picked it up with two fingers as if it was something dirty and filed it into his folder. "Regarding the extracurricular," the blue-eyed male began. "I took the liberty to choose one of the three. Is assisting Mr. Brooks in the lab alright with you?"

Great. Just great. (Y/n) now had to spend more time in physics—which she despised, mind you—with Satan and Lucifer.

She cracked an obviously pained smile and gave him a thumbs-up. Tristan ignored her antics and closed his bag. "Good, then that's settled. We will begin on Wednesday," he said. "For today, we will do something different. Lately, I've observed you do not do well with focus and menial work. Therefore, we will move to a different location today."

"Wait, what?" The (h/c)-haired girl blinked in confusion as the male suddenly stood up with his briefcase and headed towards the door. "Why? Where are we going?"

"You'll see once we get there," was his only reply.

"Wha—wait for me!"

The two walked in absolute silence down the hallways. The only sound in the empty space was the occasional faint clatters from the classrooms and the soft clicking of Tristan's shoes on the tiles. He wore a pair of black oxford shoes that were as sharp as his tongue. He didn't pay her any mind as she jogged after him to keep up with his long strides.

She noticed a door to a room that was ajar. Huh? It's open...! She stopped herself from opening it, remembering what happened the last time she did. (Y/n) had gotten an eyeful of things that should not have been seen. She wished she could unsee it. The memory still made her shudder and her eyes bleed.

Maybe it wouldn't be the same this time—she always had a strange affinity towards little nooks and crannies—but better safe than sorry, right? (Y/n) made a mental reminder to not let the white-haired male touch her things the next time they met to work on the project.

"We're here," Tristan's monotonous voice pulled her out of her daze. They had stopped in front of a set of double wooden doors. The glass was stained with years of dust, something that surprised her; it was unlike Fortuna to not keep every single facility well-kept.

The male didn't wait for her as he pushed open the doors with a single hand and stepped inside. Surprisingly, he held it open for her.

"T-thanks," she said awkwardly. He said nothing as he closed the doors behind her and made his way further into the room. Did he have a change of heart all of a sudden?

The (h/c)-haired girl took a moment to survey the room she was in. Was this the library? The rows of bookshelves and few tables gave it the appearance of one. She'd never been in the school library before—there were too many people for her to rest properly—but something about the room didn't feel quite like a library. There were metal files on the shelves with white tags attached to them. She stepped closer to one to inspect the words.

They were all in Latin. Heck, she didn't understand Latin. She could barely even read English! Stupefied, (Y/n) pointed at the tag and turned towards the blue-eyed male. "What are these?"

His eyes flickered to her. He had been browsing through the files in search of something. "Archives, (Y/n)," he sighed. "These are the school archives."

"I got that much. Why are we here?"

"I thought we could start with building on the problem-solving portion of your mind," he said. "Therefore we will be researching the incident approximately two centuries ago. You are, after all, using the former building for your project with Kim, are you not?"

"You mean those ghosty-haunty weird murders in the building that reeks of pedophilia?" She asked. His eye twitched at her response but he stifled down a sharp retort.

"If that's what helps you remember."

"Do you expect us to solve it something?" (Y/n) watched the male incredulously as he ran his finger over the files in his search. "If the authorities still can't do it, how can we?"

"I don't expect you to be able to," he said without looking up. "Tracing the crime, figuring out the motives, and determining the deeper details of it all is a good exercise for your brain. We will do that along with assisting Mr. Brooks."

She wasn't completely sure of what was happening, but she knew it was going to be another pain in the donkey. "You do realize there's something called Google, r—"

"The school covered up the incident," Tristan interrupted. "Even in the police force, only the higher-ups know the details. You won't be able to find anything even if you try, and you're very much welcome to."

Try? She covered up a smirk. Since I got his permission to, I'll just help myself to the police databases later. It's not like I'm breaking the law or anything if he gave me the say so, right?

(Y/n) realized he was still waiting for her answer. "Uh, yeah! I'll do my best!"

He nodded in satisfaction and turned back to his search. "Found it." The male retrieved a metal file holder from the shelf and held it between his hands. "Come, let's go to the table." He placed the file down and sat down in one of the old wooden chairs before the equally old table. (Y/n) blew the dust off the seat before following suit.

"This is the plan," Tristan began. "Wednesdays and Fridays starting Wednesday will be spent in the physics lab during the usual times. Mondays and Saturdays will be spent on this activity. Of course, I've already notified Mr. Brooks. Is that alright with you?"

"I guess."

"Perfect. Then let's begin"—he picked up a packet from the metal file—"First of, what do you know about the incident?"

(Y/n) shifted her eyes away in thought. "Building burns down, people died by 19th century Jack the Ripper. Yeah. That's about it."

"Not...as detailed as I'd like but that's not your fault. It's not something people like to talk about." He flipped to the next page and began reading. "This is the background you'll have to know—"

"I can read it myself, you know," she offered, only to be interrupted as he raised a hand.

"Then I'll have to ask you to make sure you've understood. I'd prefer not to go through that trouble."

"Fine." It's storytime now all of a sudden, (Y/n) wanted to roll her eyes. Where's my popcorn?

The blue-haired male readjusted his glasses as he began summarizing the pages. "As you know, Fortuna used to be based in the building behind the current one. It was built in the 18th century and considered the pride and joy of England, along with its sister schools, Asemora and St. Helena Girl's Academy. All three with the exception of Asemora started off as girls-only boarding schools until that was changed in the 20th century. To this day, females still outnumber males 5 to 4.

"It started with the strange murders that happened only in the three schools. Most of the victims were from Helena's, but Fortuna had its fair share. The victims were females that were dismembered while alive and then plastinated. The murders grew almost exponentially until it suddenly stopped not even a year later. Some speculate it was the work of Nazi scientists. Some say it was by Satan worshippers. Others claim it was the work of the devil himself. No matter what happened, one this is clear: the culprit was never found.

"When everything seemed to be fine, another dead student suddenly turned up two years later and the building burned down. It was during a holiday week, so no one died in the fire, or at least they never found any bodies. Instead of rebuilding the school, the headmaster at the time decided it was bad luck and constructed a new building. A superstitious fool, I must say myself, choosing folklore over common sense. It's to their economic advantage to rebuild rather than set up a new campus, but that's all in the past now, I suppose."

He closed the packet and tossed it onto the dusty table. "Did you get all that? Or should I ask you to write an essay—"

"No—I mean, yup!" (Y/n) hastily interrupted him at the mention of the accursed word. Essays, she shuddered. Even worse than graphs. "No need to quiz me or anything. I got everything!" She was probably going to forget by the end of the period, but he didn't need to know that.

"I'll trust you on that. Anyhow," he took out the rest of the papers. "This file only has the basic information. You will be using any method you can think of to determine the details of the killings, something not generally revealed to the public."

Wait..."Then how will you know if I'm right or not?" She asked curiously.

"Who do you think I am? Rest assured I have the means of determining it myself."

"You do?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes. My family has connections in the police force and FBI. Dragging out secrets is child's play for the Knight family." His pupils seemed to sharpen at those words and focus on the (h/c)-haired girl before him. She felt herself stiffen and her hands freeze in where she was reaching across the table for the packets.

Don't show a reaction, (Y/n), she told herself even though she knew it was already too late. Act natural. The girl forced an innocent smile onto her face and withdrew her hand. She sat back down. "That sounds great, Tristan," she said with a tight-lipped smile. "My father's a lawyer, so we're kinda similar on that part."

His ice-cold eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

(Y/n) tilted her head in innocent confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He studied her demeanor for a few seconds before looking away. "Nevermind. Our session today is concluded. You can go back to sleeping or whatever you do."

HELL YEAH! She nearly screamed out loud. Maybe he's not so bad if he let me off early. "Okay, sir! Thanks, sir!" She hurriedly packed up her things, her pencils and papers nearly spilling out of her bag in the process.

Tristan watched her haste with a raised eyebrow. "Must you really act so messily?"

"Must you really act so perfect?" She shot back with her best imitation of his posh voice and cold expression.

"Must I?" He scoffed. "That is a foolish question. I cannot act as slovenly as you, Miss (Y/n), especially with my standing."

"Are you saying poor kids can't be perfect? I mean, not that I want to be. Perfection is overrated."

"I apologize if my words came out sharper than intended. I mean to say my family's different from yours. Perfection is a must that comes along with the Knight surname." He laughed humorlessly—it was a cold and hollow sound. "Why am I telling you this? For some reason, I cannot control my emotions around you. I applaud you on how infuriating you can be."

(Y/n) folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I'm sorry I'm so infuriating," she said, not sounding very sorry at all. "I'm an acquired taste. If you don't like me, then acquire some taste."

"It's amusing hearing a person who eats cereal straight out of the box call me tasteless," he chuckled. His lips tugged into a grin at her blanching face. "Oh yes, even I know about that. That friend of yours is quite loud, calling you a cereal killer in the hallways. Tell him to do keep it down."

"W-well," she coughed. "I don't like milk. It leaches calcium from my weak a** bones. And they lied when they say warm milk helps you sleep. Cereal's great by itself."

"I'd beg to differ, but I don't eat cereal."

"W-wha—you—you don't eat...cereal?! Wait, why am I so surprised? You probably eat caviar for breakfast."

"Is that what the middle class assume we eat all day? Caviar?" The blue-haired male frowned. "I personally detest the taste of caviar. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

It was just one surprise after the other; the two were having a civilized conversation for once without any knives being thrown. "I had it once in my sushi," she admitted. "It was okay."

"Cheap caviar has a less fishy taste. The more expensive kind might not please you as much."

"Good to know, good to know," she nodded. "I better get going now. Nice talk though."

He blinked in surprise. "'Nice talk?' Is that another expression the middle class uses? I believe it means 'it was nice talking to you.' I cannot fathom why they chose to shorten their words so much it's almost incomprehensible..."

(Y/n) pointed out the window. "Grammar police applications are that way. You're in the wrong place, buddy."

"I appreciate the offer."

"Anyway, I'm going to go," she said, backing away. "I'll see you in the lab on Wednesday, I guess."

Tristan nodded and his eyes left her face, slipping back to the papers in front of him. "Very well. You may leave now."

Monday was the devil, and the devil was full of surprises. Tristan Knight almost seemed less machine and more...human today. Then she realized it: He had laughed. It wasn't a mocking chuckle or an insulting snort like usual. It was a genuine laugh of amusement.

She didn't know what possessed her to turn around. Maybe it was the weight of Jasper's insecurities still plaguing her mind or her newfound information about Leon's family situation. Whatever it was, it made her stop in her tracks and face the blue-haired male.

She opened her mouth.

"You don't have to be perfect all the time, you know."

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The morning went by smoothly. She and Tristan only exchanged a greeting in physics before they dove into the lesson. The class was spent with Keller sharing memes with her under the table, so it was safe to say she didn't get a word of what Mr. Brooks was teaching. Probably a bad idea considering he already had it out for her, and she was to assist him in the lab on Wednesday. But whatever.

History was a breeze. It was a work period which meant Mr. Wright was able to lean back and watch his cat vid—I mean, read his newspapers. He'd never admit it, but he had a soft spot for anything feline. Many students have caught him smuggling stray cats into the school to take home after work. Everyone kept their mouths shut due to their respect for the teacher.

(Y/n) didn't know how much time had passed. It was like she turned her head and then it was suddenly lunchtime. She supposed it was because she wasn't in a bad mood like last Monday when her exchange with a certain popsicle did nothing but make her want to pull out her hair and use it to strangle him.

The girls had gone ahead while Jasper went to get something from the teacher. (Y/n) waited by the lockers for Reese, who was taking his sweet time in the bathroom. Just perfect.

A hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump. Twenty bucks it's McDonald's and Nevada coming for retribution, she winced, remembering the conversation between the two she oversaw. Slowly, the (h/c)-haired girl turned around.

It wasn't either of the two. Even if it was, she doubted she'd recognize them. It was Jason in all his opened collar and green hair glory. This week, it was arranged in an Elvis Presley style.

"Nice hair," she greeted him. The male grinned and smoothed down his hair.

"Thanks. Took me a few hours this morning. Totally worth it though."

"I can see. Anyway, what's up?"

He sobered and he glanced over his shoulder. After making sure no one was around them, he drew her to the side for extra precaution. (Y/n) shot him a bewildered look. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Jason finally said, shoving his hands into his pockets. His face had a mixture of concern, fear, and bitterness at the same time. "But I think you should stop hanging out with Jaehyun—wait, hear me out!" He raised his hands as she opened her mouth to retort. "I'm not like those people who say you're not good enough for him or something. I think it's the opposite actually."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know...but something about that guy rubs me the wrong way. He's not a good person, (Y/n). I can feel it. As a fellow dude, I got this dude sense that lets me read into people. And I'm only getting bad signals from the cinnamon roll there."

"Bad signals? Are you sure you're not mistaken?" Jaehyun was anything but malicious. Awkward, yes. Antisocial, yes. But evil? That was a definite no. "I'm not saying I don't trust you, Jason, but that's not something I can believe so easily."

"No, I totally understand. He's good at pretending to be innocent"—he looked over his shoulder again—"But I'm telling you, that guy is bad news. I don't know about the rest of this P4, but Kim Jaehyun is not someone you want to hang around."

This is like all those novels where Friend A tells Female Lead that her boyfriend is a psychopath but she doesn't believe him, (Y/n) mused. And the boyfriend turns out to be the serial killer.

"Then why does it sound like you're speaking from experience?" She asked. "You say it's your 'dude sense'—ha, what even is that?—but it doesn't sound that way. Do you...mind telling me more?" If it was anyone else he was talking about, like Lucinda or Reese, she would've given him a piece of her mind. But with all the dark rumors following the P4, (Y/n) decided it was better if she trod carefully in the seemingly perfect paradise called Fortuna Institute.

Jason looked conflicted. He bit his chapped lips with a pained look. "Fine," he sighed. "I admit it. It's also a little of my personal bias."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to...but did something happen with him?"

The green-haired male shook his head. "That guy's the picture definition of innocent. But I'm telling you, that's a f*cking lie. My sister met a similar guy in the past. He was just like Kim Jaehyun; kind, gentle, and perfect. He was a f*cking gentleman when they first met, so I accepted him. But hell did I know he was a f*cking sociopath."

"What...happened?"

"I don't know, but my sister suddenly stopped calling me," he said with a tortured look. "No calls, messages, emails—nothing. It was totally weird so I decided to visit her. She was living with her boyfriend at the time, and I didn't suspect anything wrong. She turned me away and said she was fine. But I should've realized she wasn't. I didn't and being the f*ckind idiot I am, I went to America to finish middle school. And when I returned..."

He broke off and covered his face, turning around. (Y/n) suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt but a small, morbid part of her wanted to know more. "Here, some water," she passed him an unopened bottle of water from her bag. "Don't say anymore if it hurts you that much."

"Thanks, but I'm fine." He took the water anyway. "I can continue. When I returned, I found out that my sister had killed herself since all her friends had been mysteriously murdered. Dad died of a heart attack from the news and it's been just Mom and me ever since. And her boyfriend, that f*cker—he disappeared. Didn't even come to the funeral. So I'm telling you, (Y/n). Jaehyun is just like him. I don't know what he wants, but it's nothing good."

"I'm really sorry that happened," she said gently. "I'm not the right person to make you feel better, but I really am sorry. But in all honesty, just because their personalities are similar doesn't mean they're going to be the same, Jason. You get me?"

"I do, but—"

"I get what you mean. You had good intentions in telling me, but I can determine his personality by myself. I'll be careful."

Jason studied his hands for a while before shaking his head with a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. He might not be a bad guy."

"I can't blame you for thinking he might be like that guy after what happened. Either way, we'll both be careful, okay?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

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A/N: Who do you think the mystery boyfriend is?

Thanks for the support, everyone! Your comments make me laugh. I've discovered that some people like Leon and Jaehyun, but no one likes Kieran or Tristan lmao but that's okay, I meant for them to be like that at the start. So who are your favorite characters so far? (Y/n) doesn't count.