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Harley knew one thing for certain after exactly five minutes of Professor Hayabusa’s class.
Their new teacher was the coolest human being alive.
The man barely spoke, never raised his voice, and yet the room stayed silent like he was made of law itself. His lectures weren’t just reciting dry facts (the kind only Professor Gord thought were worth spitting out), but actual, practical advice that made you better. He taught like he expected you to succeed. His runes were sharp, his explanations sharper, and his whole presence (calm, disciplined, untouchable) was so annoyingly stylish that Harley caught himself muttering under his breath:
“Freaking cool…”
Lylia elbowed him. “Don’t simp for the professor.”
“I’m not?” Harley whispered back. “He’s just… so cool.”
And that was the beginning of their downfall.
Because exactly two days after Professor Hayabusa’s first class, there was already money on the table.
“I swear!” Someone, a wide-eyed mage from another class, raised his hand like he was on trial. “He was on a call, and before he ended it I swear I heard an ‘I love you’!”
Gasps erupted around the cafeteria table.
“No way,” someone hissed.
“You’re lying.”
“Professor Hayabusa? Love? Bro, he’s like, allergic to emotions.”
But the damage was done. The rumor had taken root, and by the next day it had evolved into a full-blown betting pool.
One diamond to enter. Winner takes the pot. Whoever finds out who Professor Hayabusa’s secret lover is gets bragging rights for life.
That was how Harley and Lylia made it their life-long mission.
The next day, Harley and Lylia spotted her outside the public library with Professor Hayabusa.
White hair. A closed umbrella at her side. Graceful, at ease. Definitely girlfriend behavior.
“Harley,” Lylia whispered, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse. “I think we just won the gold.”
“How do we even prove that?” Harley hissed, crouching behind a suspiciously tiny bush. “We can’t just walk up there and ask them directly.”
Lylia hummed thoughtfully. Then her grin widened. "Follow me, I have an idea."
He didn’t trust that grin. But like a moth to a flame, Harley followed anyway.
Lylia casually approached the two, her little hands clasped behind her back, steps light as though she was just another pedestrian. Harley blinked. Then, right as she got close—
She shoved Harley straight into the pair.
By the time he looked back, Lylia had already activated her ultimate. She winked, and then in a flash of magic she rewound time, skipping back four seconds to her original spot behind the bush.
Harley mentally screamed as his momentum carried him right into the pair.
“Whoa. Are you alright?” the white-haired girl said, steadying him.
He was not alright. He glared at the bush where Lylia was mouthing ‘you got this!!’
Harley took a deep breath, adjusted his hat, and summoned every ounce of his unmatched acting talent. "Ah, thanks! I’m fine…" He let his eyes widen, putting on the gasp of the century. “Professor!”
Professor Hayabusa, expression unreadable as always, gave him a long look.
The girlfriend glanced between them. “Ah! Your student?”
“Yes,” Professor Hayabusa said, curt as ever. “A mage.”
“I’m also a mage, mister…?”
“Harley!” he blurted, way too enthusiastically.
Her smile lingered. Then she leaned closer and cupped a hand to her mouth, though she didn’t bother lowering her voice. “So tell me, how is he as a teacher? I bet he’s grumpy. Does he even talk?”
Harley’s brain short-circuited. This was girlfriend behavior. Right here.
“Uh—yeah, no, he talks,” Harley stammered. “Sometimes. He’s, uh… strict. But also cool. Like… really, really cool.”
Behind him, Lylia facepalmed.
“Nice, Haya!” the girl beamed, tapping her umbrella against her shoulder. Professor Hayabusa looked unfazed.
Harley mentally slapped himself. Of course. He was basically third-wheeling right now.
“Oh! Right, uh,” Harley said quickly, fumbling back a step. His hat nearly slipped off in his rush. “I should go now! I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel on your date.”
This time, Professor Hayabusa tilted his head. “Date?”
The girlfriend—no, not-girlfriend—blinked, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god. Nabi must hear this.”
“Kagura and I are not dating,” Professor Hayabusa said flatly.
“…Sorry?” Harley croaked.
"Mhm.” Kagura smirked, twirling her umbrella like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I have a very pretty girlfriend.”
Harley froze.
Well.
This was embarrassing.
“So let me get this straight,” Gusion tilted his head, chewing something that was ninety percent sugar,. “This new teacher of yours has a rumored ‘lover’ and it somehow turned into the grand bet of the entire Magic Academy?”
“Yes,” Harley and Lylia responded in unison, not sparing him a glance.
“Sounds stupid.”
Harley narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you even here? Your whole castle is literally across the map.”
Gusion only grinned, tossing the candy stick between his teeth. “I’m disowned, remember?”
“Right. I keep forgetting you’re disowned.”
“It’s a minor personality trait,” Gusion proudly said, before leaning back against the chair. “Anyway, you two are seriously wasting your brain cells on this? Betting on who your teacher’s dating?”
Harley crossed his arms. “It’s called investigation.”
“Detective work,” Lylia corrected proudly.
“Sounds stupid,” Gusion repeated, though the amused curl of his mouth betrayed him. “So. What’s the evidence?”
And just like that, the self-proclaimed detectives launched into their next case briefing.
“What…?” the supposed girlfriend stared at them blankly.
“We’re just wondering,” Lylia said, staff raised toward the poor girl like it was a microphone, “as someone dating someone skilled and passionate in their arts— like Professor Hayabusa— how does life work for you? It’s for our qualitative research.”
"Idon'tknowherIdon'tknowher-" Harley chanted under his breath. Lylia stomped on his foot.
“Sorry,” the girl said, baffled. “First of all: what kind of research topic is that?”
Harley wanted to spontaneously combust.
Lylia, unfazed, smiled brightly. “It’s unique, right? We were told to research something people are actually curious about, so we decided on that. Anyway, back to my question—”
Speak of the freaking devil and he doth appear.
As if on cue, Professor Hayabusa appeared at their table carrying a tray. One cup of steaming tea. One glass of plain... water.
Harley froze, stepped on Lylia's foot, then, she froze too.
He paused, gaze shifting from his students to the wall clock. “Are you two skipping?”
“NO!” Harley screamed loud enough for the whole café to hear.
Technically, he wasn’t lying. They’d cashed in their top-score pass from the last exam. Technically. They just… used it to tail their professor out the school, because fate dropped him into a café rendezvous with Mystery Woman and Lylia had no self-control.
The girl set down the tray and crossed her arms. “Let me guess. These are your students?”
Professor Hayabusa gave a single nod.
“I’m seeing a trend,” she muttered. “And for the record? No. I’m not his girlfriend.”
Harley’s soul left his body.
Professor Hayabusa blinked. “…What?”
“They have a… research project,” the not-girlfriend explained calmly. “Something about—”
“AH! PROJECT SCHMOJECT!” Lylia cut in with the fakest laugh imaginable, waving her hands like she could erase reality itself. “Don’t worry about it!”
Professor Hayabusa raised a brow at her, then at the not-girlfriend. Harley prayed to every god that she’d just drop it.
But the world hated him.
“They thought I was your girlfriend,” she said flatly. “Like what happened with Kagura.”
Professor Hayabusa turned to them, dead serious. “I would never date Hanabi.”
“Wow.” Hanabi shot him the filthiest look imaginable. “I would never date you either. You’re way too emotionally repressed.”
“I am not,” Professor Hayabusa countered.
“Right.” Hanabi rolled her eyes. “You’re too emotionally repressed with everyone except your boyfriend.”
Professor Hayabusa did not object.
Harley and Lylia slowly turned to stare at each other.
“I can’t believe you two actually have progress-progress,” Gusion drawled, leaning an elbow lazily on the back of their chair as he studied the monstrosity in front of him.
The “investigation chart” was half genius, half... whatever: a corkboard covered in scribbled notes, half-erased diagrams, and red yarn zigzagging between portraits like a murder case. At the top in big, bold letters:
SECTREY LOVER?
“Shut up,” Harley slapped a sticky note into place that read MYSTERY TEA LADY with a giant question mark.
"Why are you here?” Lylia said as she tried to keep the red yarn from tangling around Harley’s hat.
Gusion grinned, unbothered. “I’m disowned, remember? This is free entertainment.”
“You can’t just use that as a library pass!” Harley hissed.
“Watch me.”
Lylia sighed and shoved a marker into his hand. “Fine. Since you’re here, contribute. From what we just told you, give a suspect list. Go.”
Gusion twirled the marker like a dagger, then scribbled something at the bottom of the board in aggressive capital letters:
SUSPECT #1: HIS BOYFRIEND
Harley’s eyes bulged. “You— YOU DON’T JUST WRITE THAT OUT IN THE OPEN.”
“What? You said so,” Gusion replied. “And you never said anything about your professor denying it.”
Lylia gasped, slapping her hands on the table. “So you admit there’s a chance!”
"Nah," Gusion said cheerfully, pocketing the marker. “I’m just a concerned third party.”
“You don’t think it’s also a teacher, don’t you?” Harley whispered, nose pressed to the wood of the door.
“I mean… could be anyone at this point…” Lylia scrunched her nose. “But Professor Gord..? Uh…”
Through the crack, they watched Professor Gord talking about something, his arms crossed (as always). Beside him, Professor Hayabusa stood perfectly still, nodding every so often like he actually understood the nonsense.
Harley’s eyes widened. “That’s… suspicious. Why is he listening so patiently?”
“Right? He never listens to us that long.”
They held their breath as the conversation ended. Professor Gord walked off one way, and Professor Hayabusa started down the hall—straight toward their hiding spot.
The door creaked.
Both Harley and Lylia froze, staring dumbly up at him like cornered rabbits. Their brains were already halfway to oh my god, he’s dating Professor Gord—
Professor Hayabusa looked down at them, his expression unreadable. Then, as if plucking the thought directly from their skulls, he said flatly:
“No. I’m not dating him.”
And walked away.
“…He can read minds,” Harley whispered hoarsely.
Days passed. Their suspect list grew longer, their arguments grew louder, and somehow Gusion was just there, leaning back in his chair, half amused, half judging, as they schemed.
“Okay, but what if it’s Granger?” Lylia suggested, scribbling his name onto the board.
Harley recoiled. “No way. Professor Hayabusa has taste.”
“Uhm?”
“Not wrong though,” Gusion snorted around a candy stick.
Lylia threw her arms up. “You narrow out Granger but not Professor Gord???”
“Oh my god.” Harley didn’t even bother hiding his stare. “My sister???”
Professor Hayabusa glanced his way—of course he did—and said flatly, “No. Stop whatever it is you’re thinking.”
Lylia yanked on Harley’s ear and furiously whispered. “Boyfriend. Remember??”
Harley still hadn’t recovered. “No, no. You don’t get it. The two coolest people in my life know each other.”
Lesley gave all of them a confused look… but, being the sensible person she was, chose not to question it.
“No, Lylia. No.” Harley hissed the moment Lylia gave him the look as Estes walked past them.
Lylia just shrugged. “You never know.”
At this point, they didn’t even bother hiding their nosiness in front of their target.
“So what exactly is your type, Professor? For our qualitative research,” Lylia asked during combat class break when they just-so-happened to be standing close. (It was, of course, entirely planned.)
“Brunette and loud,” Guinevere cut in out of nowhere.
Hayabusa gave her a look. Then— deadpan— added, “And reckless. Talks too much. Never listens.”
Harley and Lylia short-circuited on the spot.
Guinevere had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but failed.
“HE SAID WHAT?” Gusion nearly choked on his candy stick, eyes wide with scandal.
“Brunette and loud, reckless and whatever,” Lylia recited, waving a hand like she was reading a grocery list. “Why do you look personally attacked?”
"No, no," He leaned back with forced nonchalance, and muttered, “Just— keep on with your stupid little investigation.”
“I mean,” Harley started slowly, squinting across the training grounds, “he is brunette.”
“And loud,” Lylia added, nodding like she was discovering the cure to immortality.
They were, of course, staring at Zilong, who was just trying to spar in peace.
“No,” came a flat voice from right beside them.
Both of them jumped, whirling to find Professor Hayabusa standing there, arms crossed, gaze fixed firmly on them like he knew exactly what nonsense was happening inside their skulls.
“…Hi, Professor,” Harley squeaked.
“Chou?” Lylia whispered later, scribbling his name onto the suspect board. “He’s loud.”
“He isn’t brunette, though,” Harley dismissed instantly.
“Maybe he meant ‘was’ brunette?”
“Chou was once brunette?”
“How would I know??”
One morning, though, the comedy died.
Professor Hayabusa had been his usual calm, unreadable self in the staff wing. Until another teacher leaned in and mentioned a name.
“Hanzo.”
For the first time, Harley and Lylia saw it. The stillness in their professor’s shoulders, the faint shift in his grip, and then, just as quiet as a blade sliding out of its sheath, he muttered:
“I’m going to kill him.”
Both students froze.
Harley gulped. “Could he be—”
“Shut up,” Lylia whispered harshly.
Definitely not the boyfriend.
Eventually, they were ready to give up.
It was after a combat class, the court still scattered with training dummies and a broken desk that someone’s spell had obliterated earlier. Students were milling around, sweeping up, packing their bags, chatting loudly.
At the very back, Harley slumped dramatically over a wrecked desk that had probably been obliterated during combat.
“All this time…” he groaned. “And nothing.”
“Maybe he’s just married to his job,” Lylia sighed, hugging her knees like she was mourning.
Together, they sat there, glaring daggers at Professor Hayabusa tidying up at the front of the court as if sheer force of will could squeeze the truth out of him.
The door creaked open.
“You look like you just woke.”
The chatter in the court died instantly. Heads snapped up just in time to see Professor Hayabusa smile.
And not at them.
No—at Gusion Paxley, who had just sauntered in like he owned the place.
“Someone had the ability to manipulate wind,” Hayabusa said, voice lighter than usual. Almost… fond.
And Gusion—annoying, smug, insufferable Gusion Paxley—stepped forward, brushed a strand of hair out of Hayabusa’s face, and fixed it with a touch. Gentle. Careful. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The class collectively froze.
Then—
“Did you wait long?” Hayabusa said it softly, taking Gusion’s hand in his own—
And kissed it.
The court went dead silent. Multiple pairs of eyes watched. Not one student moved.
Gusion, completely unfazed, shook his head. “Nah. Just arrived.” He leaned toward Hayabusa like it was routine. “Shall we?”
And just like that, the two walked out.
The silence stretched.
And—
Harley slammed his hands on the desk and it promptly collapsed further. “IT WAS HIM THIS WHOLE FREAKING TIME??????”