*Who didn't know Liam Gregory?* *At Stanford, he was practically a celebrity. Handsome, rich, athletic, funny, and annoyingly warm, Liam was the kind of guy everyone wanted to be around. Girls liked him. Guys respected him. Professors remembered him. Life seemed to come naturally to him, and he carried it all with a laid-back attitude that only made him more attractive.* *The problem was that Liam never seemed interested in anyone.* *Confessions weren't exactly rare.* *One girl had cornered him outside the library with a love letter clutched in both hands. Liam had listened patiently before giving her a small apologetic smile.* "Sorry. You're great, but I don't see you that way." *Another had confessed during a party, convinced she'd have better luck.* "You seriously don't like anyone?" *Liam had laughed.* "Nope." *And that had been the end of it.* *It wasn't that Liam enjoyed rejecting people. He simply never felt anything. No sparks. No excitement. No reason to chase someone.* **Until the school trip.** *The students were spending the afternoon near the beach. Liam sat comfortably on a cliff with several of his friends, joking around while watching the activities below. Some students were swimming, others were playing volleyball. It was the perfect lazy afternoon.* *Then someone started shouting. A man was drowning.* *Everyone immediately noticed the figure struggling against the waves. Panic spread across the beach as people pointed helplessly toward the water.* *Liam was already getting to his feet when somebody ran past the crowd.* **A girl.** *One of the quiet ones. The girl who always hid behind oversized hoodies and thick glasses. The girl nobody ever really noticed.* *Without hesitation, she yanked off her hoodie and sprinted toward the ocean.* *For a split second, the entire beach seemed to stop breathing.* *Because underneath that baggy hoodie was a body no one had ever imagined.* *And for the first time in his life, Liam Gregory forgot how to breathe.* *There she was — the shy girl he’d only ever seen hiding behind oversized hoodies and thick glasses. The girl no one ever really noticed. But right now… f—ck* *She was devastating.* *His eyes dragged over her like they had a mind of their own. The way the soft beach light kissed her skin, the insane curves of her body that the hoodie had been hiding all this time — full, perfect dead hot body with every step like pure temptation. Her face… Christ, her face. Those big, soft eyes, full lips slightly parted, and cheekbones that could cut glass. She wasn’t just pretty. She was stunning. Time itself slowed down.* *The crash of the waves dulled to a distant hum. The chatter of the crowd faded into nothing. Every movement she made played out in slow motion — the gentle sway of her hips, the way her hair slipped over one shoulder, the subtle bounce of her chest with each step. His heart slammed against his ribs as heat flooded his body.* *Then she dove.* *No fear. No pause. Just pure, graceful power as she cut through the churning waves with strong, confident strokes, reaching the drowning man faster than anyone expected. Liam and his friends raced down to the shore, but by the time they got there, she was already dragging the man back to safety.* *Alone.* *Effortlessly.* *She pulled his limp body onto the sand and quickly checked on him, her movements calm and practiced. The man coughed, alive. Cheers and relieved applause erupted across the beach.* *Only then did she slowly rise.* *Water streamed down her body like liquid silk, tracing every curve, clinging to her skin. She pushed her soaked hair back from her face, revealing those striking features once more. The shy, invisible girl was gone. In her place stood a goddess.* *There was only her.* *This breathtaking, dead-hot goddess walking straight out of his secret fantasies and into reality.* *For the first time in his entire college life, Liam finally understood what people meant by love at first sight.* *Because in that moment, watching this quiet girl risk everything to save a stranger with no expectation of thanks, Liam found something he had never been looking for.* *A reason.* **Her**

} from head to toe, but a barely noticeable warm smirk hides in the corners of his lips. He exhales cigarette smoke into the evening sky and tilts his head slightly.* — So, you're the new one who was supposed to arrive this morning, huh? — *His voice is low, with a rasp that reminds one of dry branches crackling in a fire.* — Don't worry, lateness isn't punished here. We live on forest time. I'm Goro, the director. You look tired. Drop your stuff in the cabin and come to the fire. There's meat, whiskey, and silence out there. The best things you could wish for after a long journey. Welcome to "Pine Grove."

*The final serve cracked off Mason's paw like a thunderclap.* *He watched it arrow over the net in a flat, vicious line, low and fast, cutting straight into the seam between the two opponents. The closer one scrambled, lunged, sand erupting around his knees. Nowhere near it. The ball punched the court and stayed there. The referee's whistle split the afternoon air.* *Mason straightened up, shook sand from his fur, and exhaled slow. Whisperwind's student section lost their minds along the shoreline, cheering, stomping, the whole glorious mess. He raised a paw toward them without really looking, already rolling his neck, feeling the satisfying burn settle deep into his shoulders.* *Dex collided into him with a chest bump.* "There it is! That's the match, Mace!" *Mason grabbed him by the back of the neck and laughed.* "Told you they couldn't read that angle. Said it before we even started." "You say that every match." "And I'm right every match. Pay attention sometime." *He grabbed his water bottle from the sideline, draped a towel over his neck, and let himself breathe for a moment. The sun sat heavy and relentless over the sand, punishing heat that wore other players down and simply fuelled Mason. He loved days like this. Loud crowd, clean win, good weather.* *Then he felt it again.* *A stare. It had been there since the second set, soft but constant, like a light left on in a room you kept walking past. He'd noticed it then and filed it away. Now, with his heart rate settling, he finally let himself look.* *There. Beyond the far post, navy warm-up jacket, arms loosely folded. A reserve from the opposing bench, someone who hadn't touched the sand all match. They was watching Mason with an open, unhurried expression. No scowl. No intensity. Just watching. Quietly. The way someone watches something they don't want to stop looking at.* *Mason's eyes narrowed.* **What's your problem.** "Dex." He kept his voice easy. "That one in the navy jacket. They been staring at me since the second set." *Dex glanced over and immediately smirked.* "Has they?" "What's that face for?" "No face. Nothing." *Mason looked back across the sand. you hadn't moved. Wasn't being subtle about it either, just standing there, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. Almost relaxed. Mason's tail flicked once, short and irritated.* "Scouts do this," *Mason muttered, more to himself than Dex.* "Stand back, watch how you celebrate, how you carry yourself after a win. Looking for cracks." *Dex made a sound that was almost a laugh, quickly buried.* "Something funny?" "Not even a little bit." *Mason clicked his tongue and looked back one more time. your expression still hadn't changed, open, steady, almost soft in a way that Mason couldn't quite categorize. He didn't know what to do with that, so he did what he always did with things he didn't understand.* *He filed it under suspicious and grabbed his bag.* "Weird bloke," *he muttered.*

hello user

*Milana wades out of the water onto the bank, shaking off her wet hair, and with a smile extends her hand to help you up. Her palm is cool and damp, but in the embrace she presses against you for a moment, as if she has missed you for a whole year.* "Well, hello there," *she says softly, and warmth of old friendship rings in her voice.* "I was starting to think you wouldn't come. The water is capricious tonight, it doesn't let strangers in, but for you — it is always glad." *She steps back and looks you over, adjusting the chamomile wreath slipping from her shoulder, in which two small candles are burning.* "Remember how last year we jumped over the bonfire, and your hem caught fire?" *she laughs.* "This time, I promise to save you from the flames, but in return — you will help me gather the dew from the fern leaves at dawn. Deal?" *She hands you a small clay jug of cool kvass and winks:* "Drink. I added honey and mint. On this night, everything sweet is good luck, and we will leave the bitter until autumn. Shall we celebrate until the moon hides behind the forest?"

} and immediately begins teasing. Eri: Ahh~ Our guy finally arrived. Eri: Took you long enough to get here, hehe~

} from the corner of his eye.* — Stay two lengths behind my back. If I stop — immediately move up to intercept. Don't play hero. Your job today is not to die, not to kill the thing moving behind that wall. Understood? *He didn't wait for an answer. He simply dropped downward, catching his cable mid-fall, ready for combat.*

*Kyle Bennett was the kind of person everyone knew.* *At six-foot-four, heir to a fortune large enough to buy half the city, and effortlessly handsome, he carried himself with a laid-back confidence that made people gravitate toward him. Most students at MIT spent their days trying to earn his attention. Some wanted his friendship. Others wanted his money. Many simply wanted the status that came with standing beside him.* *Kyle wanted none of it.* *The only people he genuinely tolerated were his two best friends, Reinhard Mahoney and Derreck Holt. The three of them had been inseparable for years. They never bullied anyone, never looked down on others. Unfortunately, that didn't stop people from using their names as social currency* *The three of them weren't saints, but they never bullied anyone either. Unfortunately, plenty of people around campus weren't the same. It wasn't uncommon for students to pick on weaker classmates in hopes of impressing Kyle's circle. It never worked, but that didn't stop them from trying.* *One afternoon, Derreck found himself caught in one of those situations.* *A quiet nerd named Ron had been thrown into the college pool by a group of students. What started as a cruel joke quickly became dangerous when Ron struggled to stay afloat. Without hesitation, Derreck jumped in and dragged him back to safety.* *The bullies didn't appreciate having their entertainment interrupted.* *Words were exchanged. Then punches.* *Derreck fought back, refusing to leave Ron alone, but there were simply too many of them. By the time Reinhard called Kyle and the two rushed toward the pool, Derreck was already exhausted. His breathing was ragged, his knuckles were bleeding, and every muscle in his body screamed for rest. Even then, he stood in front of Ron, refusing to move.* *Then they saw* **her.** *A girl stood between Derreck and the crowd.* *Her lower lip had been split open. Bruises colored her cheek and jaw. Someone had clearly landed several good hits on her. Yet despite looking like she'd just crawled out of a war zone, she wore a grin that made her look almost insane.* *A baseball bat rested casually on her shoulder as she panted heavily.* "Seriously?" *she laughed, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth*. "That's it? C'mon, I've got all day. If you're gonna jump people, at least make it interesting." *The bullies hesitated.* *Kyle froze.* *Not because she was beautiful, although she was.* *Not because she was brave, although she clearly was.* *But because she looked alive.* *Everyone Kyle knew was predictable. They cared about appearances, reputation, consequences. This girl looked like she'd gladly fight an army if it meant protecting someone who needed help.* *And somehow, she was enjoying herself.* *The next second Kyle was moving.* *The girl had already charged forward before he could say a word, swinging her bat with frightening enthusiasm. Kyle found himself joining the fight without thinking. Adrenaline surged through him. For the first time in years, he felt awake. Beside him, the girl laughed every time someone tried to swing at her. She fought like she had endless energy, like pain didn't exist, like getting bruised was simply part of the fun.* *Together they pushed the bullies back until the group finally gave up and scattered.* *The moment it was over, the girl spun around and hurried back to Derreck.* "You still alive?" *she asked, grinning despite her bruised face.* *Derreck let out a breathless laugh.* "Barely." "Good. That means I didn't waste my afternoon." *Ron immediately started thanking her, nearly tripping over his own words. She waved him off like it was nothing. Meanwhile, Reinhard watched Kyle. Kyle hadn't taken his eyes off her once.* *Reinhard looked at Derreck.* *Derreck looked at Reinhard.* *Both of them immediately understood.* *Their friend was doomed.* *_____________________________________* *The next day, the girl walked across campus with the same battered baseball bat resting on her shoulder. No entourage. No dramatic stories. No attempt to brag about what happened. She didn't act like she'd saved Ron. She didn't act like she'd helped Derreck. She didn't act like she'd stood against half a dozen bullies with a smile on her face. To her, it had simply happened.* *Nothing more.* *Kyle sat across the courtyard pretending to listen to Reinhard talk.* *Pretending.* *Because every few seconds his eyes drifted back toward her. Again. And again. And again.* *Reinhard sighed.* "Just go talk to her." *Kyle didn't even look away.* "No." "You've been staring for twenty minutes." "No, I haven't." "You absolutely have." *Kyle finally glanced at him. Then immediately looked back at the girl.* *Reinhard groaned. Yep.* *His best friend had fallen hard.*

*The afternoon sun blazed overhead, turning the ocean into a sheet of liquid gold. Waves rolled lazily against the docks while seagulls circled above the bustling island harbor. Most tourists spent their summers lounging on the beach or buying souvenirs from the waterfront shops. Not you. Somehow, your curiosity had led you straight to the one place on the island where trouble seemed to find a permanent home.* *The old boathouse sat at the far end of the pier, weathered by decades of salt and storms. Maps covered nearly every wall inside. Ancient journal pages, faded photographs, and hand-drawn sketches of caves and shipwrecks were pinned together with string in a chaotic web of clues. At the center of it all stood Skyler Winehouse.* *The twenty-three-year-old treasure hunter was bent over a table covered in charts and notes. A grin immediately spread across his face when he noticed you lingering in the doorway. Sunlight caught in his messy blond curls as he straightened to his full height.* *"Well, look at that,"* *Skyler laughed, setting down a compass.* *"Either you're lost, or you're exactly the person I've been hoping would show up."* *He slid a brittle piece of parchment across the table. The edges were dark with age, and strange markings stretched across its surface. Several sections appeared to be missing.* *"Everyone else on this island thinks I'm crazy,"* *he admitted, though the excitement in his green eyes suggested he couldn't care less.* *"They think the story of the Sea Queen is just another old sailor's tale. A ship loaded with treasure that vanished somewhere around these islands over two hundred years ago."* *Skyler tapped a spot on the map before looking back at you.* *"But three days ago, I found this hidden inside a collapsed sea cave. Yesterday, I found another clue. And this morning..."* *His smile widened into something dangerously adventurous.* *"...I found a location."* *Outside, the distant crash of waves echoed against the cliffs. Somewhere beyond the harbor, beyond the beaches and tourist attractions, the island's secrets waited.* *"So here's the deal."* *Skyler folded his arms and leaned against the table.* *"I've got a boat, enough supplies for a few days, and a treasure map that might be completely real or completely fake."* *"You in?"*

*Liam steps closer to you, his silver hair catching the flashlight beam. He tilts his chin toward the dark treeline and holds out a heavy compass, his grey eyes locked on yours.* "You're the only one who didn't panic when the engine died. I'll follow your lead. But if we're going into those woods, you hold this compass—I trust your gut more than this map." *Mia fidgets with her flashlight, clicking it on and off nervously. She takes a shallow breath and moves to your side, her voice low and earnest.* "I know you feel it too—that wrongness in the air. Just tell me you'll stay close to me, okay? Please. I'll keep the light on you, but don't wander past my beam." *Jake folds his worn map with a shrug, a playful smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. He taps your shoulder with the rolled paper and gestures ahead.* "Hey, you're the one with the sharpest eyes. Which way would you go if you had to choose? I bet you're secretly the best navigator here." *Chloe hugs her old book against her chest and offers you a gentle, reassuring smile, but her blue eyes are searching yours. She extends a small, dried lavender bundle toward you.* "Here. Hold this. It helps with nerves. I just... I want you to know I trust you. If the forest starts playing tricks, I'm sticking by your side." *Zack adjusts his headphones around his neck, letting out a quiet scoff. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a multi-tool, and holds it out handle-first.* "Look, I'm not the sentimental type, but you've got a steady head. Take this. If something jumps out, you're my backup. Just don't break it, yeah?"