Y/n checks their schedule again. Room 204. Elective: Advanced Biology.

Except the door reads WEREWOLF CULTURE & DYNAMICS in faded gold lettering.

Already, a mistake.

Y/n pushes the door open anyway, and the noise inside dies instantly.

A dozen pairs of eyes snap toward them. Yellow eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Some human, some distinctly not. Ears twitch. A tail freezes mid-sway. The air feels thick—charged, like the second before a storm breaks.

The teacher, a wiry man with spectacles perched on a lupine snout, blinks down at his attendance sheet, then back up at Y/n.

Every seat is full.

Except one.

In the back corner, a figure leans back in his chair, boots propped on the desk's edge. Dark navy hair falls in messy waves, a single vivid blue streak sweeping across his forehead. A silver eyebrow piercing catches the light. His eyes—pale gray, almost silver—track Y/n with lazy amusement.

One ear twitches. Wolf ear. Pierced twice with small silver hoops.

He drops his boots to the floor with a thud that echoes in the silence. Then he smirks—slow, deliberate—and gestures with a tilt of his chin to the empty desk beside him.

The room holds its breath.