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“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”
Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”
You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”
“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”
“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”
“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”
“Absolutely not.”
“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”
You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.
“…How much are we charging?”
“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”
“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”
“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”
You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”
Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”
By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.
You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.
The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.
“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.
With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”
“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”
You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”
“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”
“Okay, and?”
“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”
You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”
“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”
“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”
“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”
“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.
When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.
“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”
Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”
You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”
“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”
“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.
“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.
He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.
Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”
“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.
Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”
Riddle’s death glare answered that question.
“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”
Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”
Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”
The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.
You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”
Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”
You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”
“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.
You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”
“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”
“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”
“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”
“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.
Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”
Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”
“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”
Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”
“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”
“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”
“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”
The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.
“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”
“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”
“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”
The orb started vibrating violently.
“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.
You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”
When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.
“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”
Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”
Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”
Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”
You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.
“This should work,” he said cheerfully.
The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.
“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”
Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”
The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.
“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”
Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”
Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”
“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”
“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”
“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”
“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”
Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”
“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”
You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”
A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”
“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”
“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”
“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”
“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”
“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”
“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.
Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”
“But of course!”
“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”
“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”
“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”
Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”
“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”
You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”
“Anything!”
“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”
“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”
“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”
The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.
“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”
Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.
"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."
You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"
"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."
Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"
Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."
Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"
You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"
"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.
Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.
Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.
"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.
"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.
"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.
It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.
Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.
It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.
"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"
Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.
You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.
"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.
"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."
But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?
He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."
"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.
Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."
"Shut up, Jamil."
It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.
As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.
"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"
"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.
He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"
"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.
Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.
The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.
“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”
“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”
Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”
“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”
Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”
“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.
Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”
“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”
You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”
“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.
Deuce whispered frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”
“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”
The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.
You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.
“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”
“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.
Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”
“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”
Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”
Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.
Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.
“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.
“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”
Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”
When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”
You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”
Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”
Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”
Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.
Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”
“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.
But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”
Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”
He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”
You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.
Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.
“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.
“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.
“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”
“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.
“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.
The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.
You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.
You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.
Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.
Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.
Wait, what?
You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—
Oh, no.
“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”
You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”
Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”
You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”
Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.
“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”
Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”
“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”
“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”
He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”
Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.
After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”
You froze. “What are you saying?”
Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”
You stared at Malleus in horror.
“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”
“Precisely.”
“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”
Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”
You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”
Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”
You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.
“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.
You groaned. “I’m going to die.”
And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.
“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.
Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”
The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.
For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.
Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”
Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”
He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”
Your breath hitched. “Really?”
“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.
He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”
He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.
“Run!”
You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.
And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:
I want this forever.