Aetherial Institute was one of the greatest academies on the continent.
A place where future legends were forged.
Where geniuses gathered.
Where scholars pursued truth.
Where warriors challenged limits.
Where mages studied mysteries older than kingdoms.
Unfortunately.
This week—
The greatest intellectual effort in the academy was being spent on dating theories.
And it was getting worse.
Much worse.
The problem began when the so-called Aedon Study Society grew too large.
Originally.
It had only been a handful of students discussing Aedon Flinth's supposed "Haunted Date Strategy."
Now?
Nearly fifty students attended every meeting.
Some came out of curiosity.
Some came to laugh.
Some genuinely believed the strategy worked.
And a frightening number came with notebooks.
Actual notebooks.
Filled with observations.
Charts.
Statistics.
And completely fabricated conclusions.
The meeting hall was packed.
Candles illuminated rows of wooden seats.
Students whispered excitedly.
Several boys carried notebooks thicker than lecture textbooks.
At the front stood the society leader.
A third-year scholar named Victor.
A man who had somehow transformed complete nonsense into a research field.
Tonight's meeting was special.
Because they would present results.
Field results.
Or so Victor proudly called them.
Meanwhile.
Near the back.
A middle-aged man entered quietly.
Professor Aldric.
A respected lecturer of Historical Analysis.
His hair showed traces of gray.
His expression carried the calm wisdom of an experienced academic.
He had heard students discussing a "scholar society."
Naturally.
He became interested.
Aetherial Institute encouraged private study groups.
Many brilliant theories had originated from student gatherings.
Thus.
Professor Aldric decided to observe.
"Perhaps they're discussing historical reconstruction."
He sat down.
"Or magical research."
A reasonable assumption.
After all.
This was Aetherial Institute.
A place of geniuses.
Five minutes later.
He regretted every life choice that led him here.
At the front.
Victor struck the podium dramatically.
"Welcome everyone!"
Thunderous applause erupted.
Professor Aldric frowned.
Why was everyone so excited?
Victor continued.
"Tonight we analyze the most successful social strategy currently known to mankind!"
The professor blinked.
"...what?"
The hall cheered.
Victor raised a hand.
"The Haunted Date Strategy!"
The hall exploded.
Professor Aldric nearly stood up immediately.
He wanted to leave.
Very badly.
This had nothing to do with academics.
Nothing to do with history.
Nothing to do with education.
Yet strangely.
He remained seated.
Perhaps curiosity.
Perhaps disbelief.
Perhaps a desire to understand how intelligent students became idiots.
Regardless.
He stayed.
Victor cleared his throat.
"First."
A pause.
"Results."
Immediately.
Charts appeared.
Actual charts.
Professor Aldric stared.
Someone had spent hours creating them.
Hours.
One chart displayed:
Success Rate of Haunted Date Strategy
The number written was:
87% Success
The professor almost choked.
"Eighty-seven percent?"
His academic instincts screamed.
That number was impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Victor pointed proudly.
"As you can see."
A pause.
"The data speaks for itself."
The data absolutely did not speak for itself.
Because it was entirely fabricated.
Most attempts had failed.
Several ended in embarrassment.
One ended with a boy crying.
Yet somehow—
The official statistics looked miraculous.
Because Victor adjusted them.
For morale.
Naturally.
The audience became excited.
Extremely excited.
Then Victor announced:
"Today."
A dramatic pause.
"We welcome successful practitioners."
The hall erupted.
Several students walked onto the stage.
Professor Aldric rubbed his forehead.
This felt increasingly illegal.
The first student stepped forward.
A nervous first-year.
Victor smiled.
"Tell us your experience."
The boy nodded.
Then began.
"I invited a girl to old ruins."
The audience listened carefully.
"She accepted."
Gasps.
Professor Aldric frowned.
That wasn't impressive.
The student continued.
"We talked for three hours."
More gasps.
Victor nodded seriously.
"Excellent."
The student looked proud.
Then added:
"She agreed to have lunch with me next week."
The hall exploded.
Students jumped from seats.
Applause thundered.
One student cried from inspiration.
Professor Aldric stared.
What was happening?
This wasn't success.
This was a normal conversation.
Yet somehow it was being treated like conquering a kingdom.
The second student approached.
He looked confident.
Very confident.
Victor smiled.
"Your results?"
The boy nodded.
"We explored abandoned cliffs."
The audience leaned forward.
Then he proudly declared.
"She called me interesting."
Silence.
Then chaos.
The hall erupted again.
Professor Aldric looked toward the ceiling.
Seeking divine guidance.
None arrived.
Meanwhile.
The stories continued growing.
One student claimed his crush smiled three times.
Another claimed she voluntarily started conversations.
A third claimed she touched his shoulder.
Each story received louder applause than the previous one.
And with every retelling.
The details became more exaggerated.
Eventually.
Rumors evolved.
One student whispered.
"I heard someone got their first kiss."
The neighboring student gasped.
"Really?"
"That's what I heard."
The rumor spread instantly.
By the time it reached the front rows—
Three students had apparently kissed.
By the time it reached the back—
Ten students had kissed.
Professor Aldric wanted evidence.
There was none.
Because none of it happened.
The reality was far less dramatic.
A few students successfully confessed.
A few began spending more time together.
Nothing more.
Yet reality had long since lost the battle.
Meanwhile.
Victor continued presenting findings.
A massive board appeared behind him.
Written across it:
Core Principles of Aedon Flinth's Strategy
Mystery
Isolation
Emotional Atmosphere
Shared Experience
Fear-Based Bonding
Professor Aldric froze.
His historian instincts activated.
Because somehow—
Somehow—
The analysis wasn't entirely wrong.
The conclusions were ridiculous.
But parts of the observations made sense.
Which made everything worse.
The professor slowly leaned forward.
Interested.
Very interested.
Victor continued explaining.
The audience took notes.
Questions were asked.
Answers were debated.
For nearly two hours.
What should have been nonsense gradually transformed into something resembling social psychology.
Poor social psychology.
Terrible social psychology.
But social psychology nonetheless.
Professor Aldric found himself listening.
Then thinking.
Then taking notes.
Then realizing he was taking notes.
The realization horrified him.
Inside his mind.
A battle began.
"This is ridiculous."
A pause.
"But interesting."
Another pause.
"No."
Another pause.
"Perhaps."
The battle continued.
Meanwhile.
The society meeting ended successfully.
Students departed inspired.
Motivated.
Determined.
Several immediately planned haunted dates.
Others planned confessions.
Some simply planned to observe Aedon Flinth more carefully.
As the hall emptied.
Professor Aldric remained seated.
Alone.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
Eventually.
He looked down at the notes he had written.
Then sighed deeply.
Very deeply.
"This is absurd."
A pause.
"..."
Another pause.
"...though perhaps Lady Eliza might enjoy old ruins."
Silence.
The professor immediately froze.
Then stared at his own thoughts.
Horrified.
Absolutely horrified.
Because somehow.
Somehow.
The strategy had infected him too.
Far away.
Completely unaware of the catastrophe he had created.
Kel sat inside his dormitory.
Reading ancient myths.
Investigating missing Leviathans.
Searching for clues about hidden monsters beneath the sea.
While an entire academy—
Including professors—
Began studying his nonexistent romance strategy.
Inside his soul.
Seiren suddenly laughed.
"Kel."
"What?"
"Humanity is fascinating."
Kel turned a page.
"No."
A pause.
"They are simply strange."
The Guardian laughed harder.
For perhaps the first time in Aetherial Institute's history—
Professors and students alike had united.
Not in pursuit of knowledge.
Not in pursuit of truth.
But in pursuit of romance.
And the worst part?
Their unwilling founder still had absolutely no idea.