Love Like a Dream
01
He bears the blood they claim as kin,
Yet chains of sorrow bind him in.
Was it his fault, this fate so grim—
To walk the world an Enigma, dim?
••••••••••••••
The morning bloomed in soft golden light, filtering gently through sheer curtains and painting the world in warmth.
A crisp breeze carried the scent of dew and fresh earth, mingling with the faint sweetness of blooming flowers.
Birds called in cheerful chorus, their melodies weaving with the hush of rustling leaves.
The sky, washed in pale blue, stretched endlessly with whispers of drifting clouds.
The mansion stood like a vision of the future, its bold curves and sharp lines entwined in seamless harmony.
Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling, glowing with warm light that spilled into the night.
Balconies of clear crystal reached outward, framed by ribbons of luminous edges.
Below, a mirror-like pool reflected sculpted statues and the soft flicker of fire.
Illuminated steps rose like pathways of stars, leading to an entrance that promised grandeur.
It was luxury carved into breathtaking form.
A young omega descended the stairs with quiet elegance, her dress a cascade of soft blue tulle shimmering with delicate sparkles.
The puffed sleeves framed her shoulders, while the satin bow at her waist tied her look in gentle grace.
Tiny floral accents bloomed across the bodice, making her appear like a figure from a dream.
Each step set the airy fabric swaying, light as mist, carrying with it the freshness of youth.
The clinking of cutlery and the gentle hum of conversation filled the dining hall.
Fynella sat between her parents, laughing softly at her mother’s remarks as they shared a warm breakfast together.
The golden morning sunlight wrapped the room in a glow so perfect it felt like a portrait of happiness—a family of three, united, flawless, content.
To anyone looking in, it was the very picture of perfection.
But from the top of the staircase, hidden in the shadows, stood another figure.
He descended slowly, his steps soundless against the polished marble, his presence unnoticed as always.
His dark eyes swept over the scene before him—the smiling faces, the laughter, the closeness he was never part of.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
💭 A perfect family of three?
He thought bitterly, his lips twisting into a faint, ironic smile.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
💭 And where am I in this picture? Their first child? Their blood? Their son?
He paused at the foot of the stairs, watching them.
No one turned. No one greeted him. To them, he was invisible.
They never saw him.
Or rather, they chose not to.
He had always been left alone. Not because he lacked love to give, not because he wasn’t theirs, but because of the mark he carried within him—because he was an Enigma.
The cursed bloodline. The one whispered about in hushed tones.
The one that brought unease wherever it appeared. His existence was the shadow that darkened their “perfect” light.
And because of that, he had been quietly erased from their family portrait.
He remembered a time when it hadn’t been this way.
A time when a little girl with bright eyes and laughter sweeter than bells used to cling to his hand, call him “big brother,” and smile up at him with pure adoration.
She had once been his sun.
But the day the truth came out, the day she learned what he was, that warmth had vanished.
She had pulled away from him, her eyes filled with fear first, then hatred.
The sweet smiles turned into cold glares, her hand slipped from his forever, and she began to deny he even existed.
All because he was born as an Enigma.
He clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
The sharp sting grounded him, stopping the wave of bitterness from consuming him completely.
His parents didn’t even look up. They were too busy with her, too busy celebrating their daughter’s first day of university, too busy pretending he didn’t exist.
Frosian chuckled softly, but the sound carried more sadness than humor.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“A perfect family of three…”
He murmured under his breath, shaking his head.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“I wonder how long you can keep pretending.”
His gaze shifted to Fynella. She looked radiant, her smile dazzling as she chatted with their mother.
Yet beneath her composure, he saw it—the flicker in her eyes, the guarded tension in her shoulders.
She hated him, yes. But he knew something deeper lingered there.
Feelings born from love that had once been strong enough to bind them.
He turned away before anyone could notice him, though in truth, no one ever did.
As he walked down the hall, his shadow stretched long and lonely against the floor.
02
“Uni days shine, with friends beside,
Laughter the spark, on every ride.”
The university courtyard buzzed with life as students streamed through the gates, laughter and chatter filling the air.
For most, it was an ordinary morning—just another start to just another day.
For Frosian, however, stepping onto campus always brought a strange sense of relief.
Here, no one looked at him differently. No one whispered behind his back.
Enigmas, like Alphas and Omegas, were part of the natural order.
Treated as equals, they studied, worked, and lived side by side without distinction. Society had no quarrel with them.
The only stain on Frosian’s life came not from strangers, but from home.
From a past he couldn’t erase. From a family who once loved him, but now saw him as nothing more than a bitter memory.
But here—here he wasn’t the “forgotten son.” He was just Frosian, another student among thousands.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Frosian!”
The familiar brightness of the voice drew his eyes.
Izael was waving wildly from the steps of the main building, his golden hair gleaming under the sun.
His grin stretched wide, pure joy lighting his face as he beckoned him over.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“You’re so slow! Did you stop for breakfast or a nap?”
Beside him stood Cyrus, dark blue hair framing his sharp features.
His expression was cold, reserved as always, arms crossed loosely.
He didn’t wave, but the slight incline of his head when he spotted Frosian was his quiet form of acknowledgment.
Frosian’s lips curved faintly as he made his way to them.
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“You’re late,”
Cyrus muttered, voice clipped but not unkind.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“You’re always cold,”
Izael shot back with a laugh, then pulled Frosian into a half-hug.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Don’t mind him. Come on—we’re walking in together. First day of class and all that!”
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“More like your first chance to chatter the professor’s ears off,”
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Better than sitting in silence like a stone,”
Izael retorted, his golden eyes twinkling.
Frosian chuckled under his breath, caught between their usual back-and-forth.
The tension he carried from home eased, little by little, just being with them.
Around them, students passed by—Alphas, Omegas, Enigmas—all mingling naturally, chatting, laughing, trading notes.
No one gave Frosian a second glance. He wasn’t feared, ignored, or avoided. He wasn’t cursed here.
He was just another young man, a student, a friend.
As they entered the building together, Izael nudged him.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“By the way, after class, let’s grab something to eat. Cyrus can pay, since he’s the one always acting rich and mysterious.”
Cyrus gave him a sharp look, but Frosian smiled faintly.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“Sounds good.”
Because here, unlike at home, he wasn’t alone.
The three of them walked side by side through the busy corridors, the buzz of morning chatter all around.
Izael, as always, couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Did you hear about the new professors?”
He began, eyes gleaming with excitement as though he were about to share a treasure.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“They’re Enigmas. And not just any Enigmas—people say they’re cold, merciless, and stricter than the Principal himself!”
Frosian raised an eyebrow.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“Stricter than the Principal? That’s hard to believe.”
Cyrus, hands in his pockets, gave a faint, dismissive snort.
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“Rumors are a waste of time.”
But Izael only leaned closer, lowering his voice with dramatic flair.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Oh no, this one’s true! All three of them seem close, too—like some kind of unbreakable trio. Imagine what kind of storm they’ll bring to our classes.”
Frosian shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“You’re always the first to know every rumor in this university. How do you even find out all this?”
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“That,”
Izael said proudly, tapping his nose with a grin,
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“is called talent. Information just flows to me.”
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“More like you dig for it endlessly,”
Cyrus muttered, his tone cool but not without a trace of amusement.
Izael gasped in mock offense.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Excuse me, I don’t dig—I discover! There’s a difference.”
Frosian chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine.
Their banter, familiar and grounding, carried them down the hall.
For a moment, he almost forgot the weight that clung to him at home.
Still, his mind lingered on Izael's words. Professors who were Enigmas.
Strict, cold, feared. He wondered idly—would they look at him and see the same?
Would they see in him the reason his family’s eyes had turned from love to scorn?
But Cyrus’s steady presence and Izeal’s cheerful grin pulled him back to the moment, and together, the three of them stepped into the classroom.
03
“Life’s a path of twists and bends,
Bright with moments, dark with ends.”
The classroom settled into silence the moment the door creaked open.
A wave of sharp stillness swept through, drawing every gaze to the man who entered.
He was tall and impossibly striking, with hair as pale as snow, falling in soft, careless strands around his face.
Silver-framed glasses clung to the bridge of his nose, delicate chains glinting faintly with each subtle movement.
Long earrings shimmered faintly in the light, while intricate silver jewelry traced across his neck and chest, making him appear almost untouchable—like something carved from ice and starlight.
His eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to pierce through the air itself, carrying an aura that demanded obedience without a word.
He was an Enigma—one whose very presence carried refinement and absolute control.
Each step of his echoed with authority as he reached the front, placing a stack of neatly bound files onto the desk.
Instantly, the hushed murmurs of the students died out.
He began, his voice smooth, steady, and commanding,
Alfredo D'Amor (ERE)
“Is Professor Alfredo. From today onward, I will be your homeroom teacher.”
His gaze swept across the room like frost, weighing and judging, leaving no corner untouched.
Alfredo D'Amor (ERE)
“This university will follow a new system under my guidance. Order and discipline are no longer matters of preference—they are law. Excellence will not be requested, it will be expected.”
Students shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his presence pressing down on them.
Even the boldest Alpha in the back row sat straighter, as if unwilling to draw his attention.
Professor Alfredo continued, laying out stricter timetables, mandatory study requirements, and new rules that promised to push everyone past their comfort.
His tone allowed no arguments—only obedience.
And then, his eyes found Frosian. They lingered for just a second too long, unreadable, before moving on to Cyrus and then Izeal.
Something unspoken passed in that glance, though none of the three could put a name to it.
Before ending the class, Alfredo’s voice cut through once more, steady and unyielding.
Alfredo D'Amor (ERE)
“Frosian. Cyrus. Izael. Stay after class. You will accompany me. Do not be late.”
The room rippled with quiet surprise, but no one dared question him aloud.
Izael leaned toward Frosian and whispered,
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“Why us? I swear I didn’t do anything yet.”
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed slightly, his voice cold as steel.
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Frosian said nothing, though unease coiled quietly in his chest.
As Cyrus, Frosian, and Izael walked toward the staff room, their eyes were immediately drawn to a figure standing near the doorway.
Another new professor had arrived, but his presence was far colder than even Alfredo’s.
His aura seemed to cut through the air, and when he spoke, his voice was sharp and measured, carrying a frosty calmness that made the hallway feel unusually quiet.
He had the same striking hair and eye color as Alfredo, and his gaze—piercing and unwavering—assessed them in a single glance, leaving no room for pretense.
A thin silver chain with a diamond-shaped pendant rested against his chest, and a lone silver earring caught the light subtly, giving him an aura of understated elegance that only heightened his intimidating presence.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“I’m Aethros,”
He said, his tone crisp and precise.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“I’ll be the homeroom teacher for the first-year students. I require your assistance with a few tasks regarding the freshers.”
Cyrus exchanged a glance with Frosian and Izael.
He was the first to speak, trying to mask his curiosity with composure.
Cyrus D'Angelo (EDA)
“Tasks? What kind of tasks, Professor?”
Aethros’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“Nothing beyond your capabilities, I assure you.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
You will assist me in monitoring the new students, helping them settle in, and ensuring they understand the rules.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
Efficiency and discretion are paramount.”
Izael, tilting his head slightly, couldn’t hide his intrigue.
Izael D'Mintz (TBA)
“And why are you asking us specifically?”
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“Because,”
Aethros replied, his eyes briefly narrowing in assessment,
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“I require capable and trustworthy individuals.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
From what I’ve been told, you three are precisely that. I expect competence, not excuses.”
Frosian stepped forward, his tone firm but respectful.
Frosian D'Alfanso (EE)
“Understood, Professor. We’ll assist you.”
Aethros’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, cold yet appraising, before he nodded once.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“Good. Then consider this your first directive: observe, guide, and report. The freshmen must learn quickly, and mistakes will not be tolerated.”
Aethros turned to them, his cold gaze scanning the hallway.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“Follow me,”
He instructed. Without another word, Cyrus, Frosian, and Izael fell into step behind him, the chill of his aura trailing them like a shadow.
They soon arrived at the hall where the first-years were gathered.
Aethros’s presence immediately commanded attention.
With the same icy composure, he introduced himself to the students, his voice clear and authoritative.
Once the formalities were over, he gestured to the three of them.
Aethros D'Amor (EDE)
“You may come inside,”
As they entered, their eyes quickly scanned the room—and froze.
There, mingling comfortably among the first-years, were their sisters.
Frosian’s heart tightened at the sight of Fynella, standing with an almost casual ease, chatting animatedly.
Nearby, Illyra and Celestia, sisters of Izael and Cyrus respectively, were laughing together, clearly close and at ease, their bond evident to anyone watching.
Frosian’s chest ached as he looked at Fynella.
Their relationship had never been easy; distance and unspoken tension hung between them like a constant shadow.
Even so, seeing her so engaged, so seemingly happy with others, filled him with an odd mixture of pain and helplessness.
He had always wished for even a flicker of warmth between them, but every glance, every interaction reminded him of the barrier that had grown over the years.
Meanwhile, Izael and Cyrus couldn’t help but smile faintly. Illyra and Celestia had clearly formed a tight friendship, much like usual siblings, playful and caring toward each other.
The scene warmed them, a stark contrast to Frosian’s aching heart.
And yet, what hurt Frosian the most wasn’t the closeness of the other sisters—it was
Fynella’s subtle ignorance, the deliberate distance she maintained.
It wasn’t malice entirely, but a silent rejection that pierced deeper than any words.
Every time he looked into her eyes, he saw a quiet resentment, a barrier that refused to be crossed, and it left a sting that never seemed to fade.
He clenched his fists slightly, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, even as the hurt lingered like a shadow over his heart.
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