A Bouquet of Blood and Roses

Chapter V

Monday arrived with a strange heaviness, as though something unseen lingered in the air. The sunlight was bright, yet the atmosphere around the campus felt muted, uneasy — a quiet that stretched between the sound of shoes echoing on tiled floors and the distant chatter of students.

Aella felt it immediately. She couldn't say why, but something about that morning seemed off. The rhythm of the day felt slightly unaligned, as though reality had skipped a beat.

Pulling her bag higher onto her shoulder, she marched toward the row of lockers. The scent of disinfectant and chalk hung faintly in the corridor. She reached for her locker handle, already lost in thoughts about yesterday's strange, fragile moment with Kyojin — that music box and the haunting melody that still played in her mind.

But just as she opened it, the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Startled, she spun around. Standing too close for comfort was Ivan Chrisley, the school's infamous playboy, flashing his usual smug grin.

"You seem off today, princess," he drawled, leaning against the locker beside hers. "Where're your friends?"

Aella forced a polite smile — the kind that barely hid her annoyance — and yanked her locker open again. Without hesitation, she slammed the metal door shut right into his face.

The clang echoed sharply down the hall. Ivan stumbled back, rubbing his nose with a look of disbelief before smirking again, as though even rejection amused him.

"Fleur's a senior high student," Aella said flatly, "Evangeline's in a different course. And you, Ivan, aren't even supposed to be here. You're a varsity player, not a teacher."

Her tone was sharp, almost cold, but it didn't faze him. Nothing ever did. Ivan was the kind of man who lived for the chase — and rumor had it, he'd conquered nearly every girl on campus, teachers included. The only mystery left for the gossipers was why Aella had managed to remain untouched.

Maybe it was because she didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting. Or maybe it was because she was already under Kyojin's shadow — and everyone knew better than to test him.

"Oh, come on, princess," Ivan persisted, lowering his voice. "Is it really so wrong for me to take you out? My treat."

Aella's lips twitched — she was one breath away from telling him off — when a hand suddenly gripped Ivan's shoulder.

The shift in Ivan's expression was immediate. His trademark grin vanished, replaced by unease. Slowly, he turned — and there stood Kyojin, his presence as sharp as a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

His pale eyes were calm but glacial. His hand, resting lightly on Ivan's shoulder, looked deceptively relaxed — yet the quiet strength behind it was unmistakable.

The corridor fell silent. Even the gossiping students nearby stopped mid-sentence.

Kyojin's gaze didn't waver. "Ivan," he said evenly, his voice smooth but edged with something that cut deeper than anger, "preying on my girl? The club has more women than you could ever handle. So touch her again, and you'll see what happens next."

The threat was soft — too soft. And that softness made it terrifying.

Ivan forced a nervous laugh, stepping back quickly. "Relax, man. Just teasing."

But Kyojin's stare never softened. Only when Ivan turned and walked away — his swagger replaced by tight shoulders — did Kyojin release a faint exhale and step closer to Aella.

His arm slipped around her waist in one fluid motion, a gesture both protective and possessive. The hall's spectators tried to look busy, but every eye was fixed on them.

"You didn't have to—" Aella began, but stopped when she felt his grip ease, his warmth fading as he stepped back.

"Thank you," she said instead, smiling faintly. "He's handsome and all, but I'm not into playboys."

That earned her one of Kyojin's rare smiles — small, but genuine. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her a small stack of black cards. Sleek, heavy, embossed with silver markings — she recognized them immediately.

Her eyes widened. "Kyojin, I— I can't—"

"It's yours, sweet lamb," he said gently, closing her fingers around them. His touch lingered, careful, deliberate — as though she were something fragile, something precious. "Don't ever be afraid to buy what your heart desires."

He leaned forward, brushed a kiss against her forehead, and turned away. The corridor seemed to breathe again only once he was gone.

Aella stood frozen, heat flooding her face as she realized that half the hall had witnessed it — and the other half was pretending not to.

And somewhere, she knew, someone's camera had already clicked.

By the time she reached the restroom, the notifications had begun to pour in. Her phone buzzed relentlessly, and when she finally dared to look, the school's social page had already published a post.

A photo — her photo — mid - kiss on the forehead, captioned:

"The school's prince and a girl of lowly status? A Cinderella story."

Aella groaned softly, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh no, no, no. . ."

Scrolling through the comments only made it worse.

Some called it romantic.

Some called it pathetic.

Others — mostly the girls who idolized Kyojin — were already tearing her apart.

"She's not even that pretty."

"She's using him for money."

"Bet she begged for those cards."

The bile of humiliation rose in her throat. She locked her phone and forced herself to breathe, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Just ignore it," she whispered to herself. "It'll pass."

But deep down, she knew — nothing ever passed easily when it came to Kyojin Chrisley.

Classes dragged painfully slow. The whispers never stopped. Even when she tried to focus on her notes, she could hear her classmates murmuring just loud enough to make sure she'd catch fragments of their conversation.

"Did you see them this morning?"

"He actually kissed her."

"Who even is she?"

By the time lunch came, Aella's appetite had evaporated entirely. She sat with Fleur and Evangeline, staring at her untouched tray, pushing food around with her fork.

"You're not still upset about that headline, are you?" Fleur asked softly, her bluish silver hair tied up neatly as always.

Aella forced a smile. "It's fine. Just. . . embarrassing."

Evangeline, meanwhile, was far less sympathetic. She leaned forward, grinning mischievously.

"So, Ms. Cinderella," she teased, "how does it feel to become the school's newest fairytale?"

Aella groaned, burying her face in her arms. "Please don't call me that."

"Hey, don't worry," Evangeline laughed. "We'll still sit with you even when you're famous."

Fleur gave her sister a look. "Eva, that's not helping."

But Aella couldn't help a small laugh. "It's fine. I guess I'll survive. But Kyojin's probably going to hear about this before the day ends."

Fleur blinked. "Speaking of him. . . where is Kyojin? I didn't see him at lunch."

Evangeline sighed, stealing a slice of bread from Fleur's tray. "He said he's busy — something about preparing plans for the school's founding anniversary. You know how he gets when he's focused. He's probably eating in his office."

At that, Aella paused mid - bite, her brow furrowing. Something clicked in her mind.

"Wait," she said slowly, "you said the Chrisley manor earlier. Isn't that the same manor Kyojin mentioned? The one he's living in now?"

Both Fleur and Evangeline exchanged a look — the kind that said we thought you already knew.

Evangeline blinked. "Um, yeah? Kyojin's our adopted brother. Fleur's too. Wait — we didn't tell you that?"

Aella's eyes widened. "No, you didn't!"

Fleur giggled. "Oh, well. . . surprise?"

"You're telling me," Aella said, setting her fork down, "that you, Ivan, and Kyojin — all of you — are siblings?"

Evangeline shrugged casually. "Ivan and I are the biological children. The rest — Kyojin, Fleur, Charlene, Rema, and Sierraphine — were adopted. Though, honestly, we just think of each other as family. No distinction needed."

"And you all don't use the Chrisley name?"

Fleur nodded. "We could, but the name brings too much attention. Fame cuts both ways, you know? Our parents are one of the wealthiest families in the country, and wealth doesn't attract just business — it attracts envy."

Aella leaned back, still processing it all. "So. . . there are seven of you in total?"

"Eight," Fleur corrected. "Including Ivan and me. But only four of us are still in school."

"Where are the others now?"

"Working," Fleur said simply. "Charlene runs one of the family's manufacturing companies. Rema handles the profit audits — she's the reason our accountants are terrified. Sierraphine oversees employee conduct and client relations — she's basically the family's watchdog."

Aella blinked. "That sounds. . . intimidating."

"Mm-hmm," Fleur hummed, sipping her juice. "Evangeline's the next in line to inherit the main business, Ivan's doing — well, whatever Ivan does —"

"Causing trouble," Evangeline muttered with a grin.

"Exactly," Fleur continued. "And Kyojin. . . well, you already know. Forensic doctor, private investigator — and possibly the most terrifying man alive when he's angry. As for me, I want to be a lawyer someday."

Aella couldn't help smiling. "That's. . . honestly impressive. I didn't realize I was surrounded by an entire dynasty."

Fleur laughed lightly. "We prefer family over dynasty."

Still, Aella couldn't shake the thought.

Kyojin, the mysterious man she'd come to care for, wasn't just some reclusive genius. He was a Chrisley — part of a lineage that wielded power in silence.

And as she stared at her tray, her thoughts drifted back to the manor — that basement full of antiques, the music box that carried the weight of a forgotten life, and Kyojin's cryptic words:

"It held memories more than the Earth has ever witnessed."

For the first time, Aella began to wonder what kind of history truly lay hidden behind that manor's walls — and whether Kyojin himself was part of something far larger, and far older, than he'd ever told her.