WASHINGTON STATE SNAKES

The Snakes are a promising capital team with a bright future in Exy ahead of them. In their first five years, they stormed into the university team rankings, boldly knocking the Ravens down to fourth place. Eros Maniae, a professional coach who emigrated from France, assembled only the best of the best, honing their skills to perfection. The team's original lineup etched the Washington Snakes into the history of Exy in the United States. They were known for their exceptional tolerance, responsibility, and persistence—or at least, that’s what everyone thought until they had to deal with them directly. Their agility and the tactics introduced by their coach enabled them to achieve remarkable results in their first year. The Snakes pushed forward relentlessly, stopping only at the USC Trojans, failing to secure second place. In an interview, the Snakes even promised to return stronger next season and finally face off against the Palmetto State Foxes, who had held the championship title for several years. Most of the team members came from wealthy families, which contributed to a frenzy of publicity both nationally and beyond. In Exy circles, they were nicknamed the nepo-babies, a sort of spoiled brats who dared to claim something that wasn’t meant to be theirs. Some hated them, while others pinned great hopes on the Snakes, all while the team members themselves... June 20, 2024 A hungover afternoon at 4 p.m. spared no one, especially when the latest drinking spree ended at 10 a.m. and a team meeting was scheduled just four hours later. Nobody enjoyed nodding off in the lounge near the Snake Pit’s playing field after an almost sleepless night. But there was no way around it. The Snakes used every moment waiting for their coach to try and catch up on sleep after the party. With the departure of the seniors and juniors, only ten players remained on the team. Now they were slowly gathering at the meeting spot with the coach and the six newly joined Snakes.  Ice was dozing with his head tilted back, making the demonic skull tattooed on his neck appear to open its jaws wider. The kanji running down the middle of the tattoo stretched across his Adam’s apple. His long silver ponytail dangled over the carpet, swaying slightly in the air currents from the AC. Storm lay with his head on Ice’s thigh, absorbed in a shooter game on his phone, fingers rapidly tapping at the controls. His messy black bangs kept falling into his eyes, and he would push them back with a careless swipe of his hand, only for them to spring back in every direction. Taking up most of the available space, Storm left Darcy no choice but to sprawl across his chest face-down. Darcy’s dyed red hair glowed under the sunlight streaming through the panoramic windows overlooking the field. The lounge was filled with drowsy silence, a sharp contrast to the chaos that unfolded the night before in the Snake Nest—the team’s dormitory. Upon returning from summer break, the trio threw a party in their dorm block, inviting everyone who had already made it back. The music blared until 8 a.m., when most guests finally started to leave. ‘SID’ and a few others partied until the bitter end. Alcohol flowed freely, leaving their room in utter disarray. Ice flatly refused to clean up the mess, opting instead to call a cleaning service straight to the dorm. His head was pounding, so sleep became the only solution. While Ice and Darcy napped, completely unbothered by Storm's erratic movements, the latter's energy spiked whenever his game heated up. He tapped his phone furiously, shifting it closer and farther away, often bumping into the two. In the armchair to Ice’s right sat Tallon with Marco in his lap. They had also attended the party but left by 2 a.m., exhausted from their flight. The two had just returned from Chile, where they’d had a great time visiting Marco’s family. His skin now glowed a few shades darker, with the pale patches of vitiligo standing out even more against the tan. All evening, Marco had shared funny stories, many involving Tallon and his now-sun-bleached hair, which had lightened to a coppery hue. However, Marco had struggled to sleep through the pounding music, which seemed to reverberate through the entire floor. Now he was dozing, legs propped up on the armrest, his head resting on Tallon. Suddenly, Storm jerked upright. “DOWN!” he shouted, clutching his phone. Darcy reacted instantly, rolling onto the floor and covering his head with his hands. Growing up in a neighborhood where gunfire could tear through your window at any moment, instincts like that were second nature. Many residents there didn’t even bother replacing windows, simply boarding them up with plywood. Even after moving to the capital, those reactions persisted. Realizing there was no actual danger, Darcy glared at Storm, whose grin stretched ear to ear. “Fucking fucked them up!” Storm exclaimed triumphantly, pointing at his phone. “I pissed the fuck out of them.” Pleased with his victory, Storm relaxed back into his previous position. “Asshole,” Darcy muttered as he settled back down. “Lemme see.” Storm played back the highlight of his win and handed over the phone. Darcy scrutinized the recording. “You camped. That’s trash, not a win.” “You didn’t see how hard they tried to flush me out. I was almost out of HP!” Storm scoffed. The shouting woke Marco, who opened his eyes only to be greeted by Tallon’s affectionate kisses. He didn’t resist, wrapping his arms around Tallon’s neck. But even the soft sounds from the two grated on Ice’s nerves. Waking up, he scowled, trying to ignore them. However, every little movement set him further on edge. Fucking queers. Why don’t they just screw right here? He hated when guys got overly affectionate in public. Abruptly, he yanked a heavy ring off his finger and flung it at Tallon, hitting him square on the forehead. Tallon pulled away from a giggling Marco and stared at Ice, smirking. “You guys are seriously pissing me off,” Ice snapped. “Go shag in your faggoty lagoon.” “Whoa, dude!” Tallon’s voice rang out, clearly more amused than offended. “Not bad, but not very original either—try harder.” His lips curled into a sarcastic smile. Marco snickered, picking up the ring from Tallon’s chest and handing it back to Ice. “Go occupy that mouth of yours with something useful, ‘cause all it’s spouting is crap,” Ice shot back. He glanced briefly at his sister and Nev as they entered, flipped Tallon off, and leaned his head back again, pulling his ponytail free. “Speaking of, Tallon, you sure you don’t want to occupy that pretty mouth of yours?” Marco teased, laughing. Krenaria lifted her black sunglasses from her eyes and secured them in her hair, using them as a headband. Pure anarchy reigned in the room, and no one seemed surprised. As usual, her brother was at the center of this spectacle. Ignoring him as best as she could, she walked over to a stand, where she placed her black helmet with its lowered mirrored visor next to Tallon’s helmet, decorated with graffiti. The first person Krenaria noticed in the room was Irida, looking all sleepy and grumpy. They had already seen each other that morning, so they exchanged only brief nods. Krenaria knew her friend Killian hadn’t arrived yet because she hadn’t spotted his motorcycle near the stadium. Pulling her hood tighter over her head, Irida closed her eyes, swearing to herself that she would never drink again. Of course, she knew it was a lie. If someone offered her a chance to party again right now, the Redhead would agree without hesitation. Because… well, we only live once. That’s all there is to it. For a few minutes, Irida drifted into a restless sleep, clutching a bottle of mineral water. Nev, walking alongside Krenaria earlier, felt much more awake—he had gone to bed only slightly later than Marco and Tallon. Unsurprisingly, he made a beeline for them. Marco was the first to notice him, immediately smiling and holding out a hand. They greeted each other in their usual way, slapping their palms together, but didn’t stop there. Touching two fingers to Marco’s forehead near his hairline, Nev tilted his head away from Tallon and laughed. Marco looked up, trying to brush him off. “Tell me, Marco Polo, have you prayed to-night?” Nev sang out, dodging to the side. “Ay, my lord,” Marco sang back with mock seriousness, quoting a line from a play, and tried to stand. Tallon joined in on the joke, hooking the aluminum carabiner hanging from his black jeans onto the belt loop of Marco’s shorts, preventing him from escaping. A click sounded, and Silveira nearly fell to the floor. He puffed out his cheeks and squinted his almond-shaped eyes at the grinning Lancer. Maintaining a serious expression didn’t last long for him. Marco laughed and sat back down. “Didn’t know you were this jealous. Gonna smother me in my sleep?” Ice’s eye twitched, but he didn’t react otherwise. Meanwhile, Nev dropped into a beanbag chair across from his friends and pulled out his phone. “Jealousy is a monster, begot and born upon itself,” Tallon intoned in a grave voice, locking eyes with Marco’s brown ones. Nev burst out laughing, shaking his head as he recognized the familiar lines. He certainly hadn’t expected his morning to start with Shakespeare, let alone have someone match his mood. Marco fluttered his lashes, surprised by Tallon’s sudden change of expression, but he wasn’t fooled. Chuckling, he pressed a finger to the tip of Tallon’s nose, applying light pressure. “But jealous souls will not be answered so. They are not ever jealous for the cause, but jealous for they’re jealous,” Marco recited knowingly. Tallon listened intently, his focus fixed on Marco, as his finger moved down from the tip of his nose to his lips. Whatever grogginess lingered in Marco’s body vanished during this theatrical exchange orchestrated by Nev. For how long, though? Tallon’s lips barely brushed the pad of Marco’s finger before teeth joined the act, biting down on Marco’s knuckle. “Heaven keep the monster from Tallono’s mind!” Nev cried, stretching one hand toward the couple and clutching his chest with the other. “Hey! Am I the monster here?” Marco protested, forgetting to pull his finger from Tallon’s mouth. “You sure are,” Nev replied with a playful wink, though by “monster,” he had meant jealousy and was addressing Tallon directly. The latter simply flipped off the team captain. A bit further from the chaotic scene, Arrea had claimed a chair. She seemed suspiciously cheerful and radiant for someone who had gone to bed around 9 a.m. At least, that was when she disappeared from everyone’s sight, retreating to her room. She sucked on a caramel candy with an odd aftertaste that had turned her split tongue green and left a sharp tang on her palate. Storm, meanwhile, was quietly cursing under his breath, shaking his head, occasionally biting his lower lip or wrinkling his nose. Suddenly, something hard and crinkly hit him in the back of the head. “Bitch, who the fuck?” he asked calmly without looking up from his screen. Guiding his game character to a safe spot, Storm pulled one earbud out and glanced around, occasionally peeking at his phone. His gaze landed on a pair of narrow eyes belonging to Wong. “And that's you, Viper,” he said with a venomous smile. “Swapping candy?” Arrea wiggled her fingers at Storm, playfully narrowing her eyes. In response to the nickname, she ran her tongue along her lower lip. Havers smirked, turned his attention back to the screen, and popped a sour candy into his mouth. The wrapper landed on the floor behind the couch. “You owe me,” Arrea said with feigned nonchalance, waving her hand in a manner reminiscent of Krenaria, before curling up with her feet tucked on her chair. Killian, surprisingly, felt energetic. Apparently, years of thriving alcoholism had gifted him with a superpower: an immunity to hangovers. Or maybe it was the bottle of non-alcoholic beer he’d downed before heading out. Driving his Ducati after a wild party was probably far from safe, but Morgan was no stranger to risky choices. Without a word, he approached Krenaria to greet her. She noticed him coming and set her phone aside, where she had been scrolling through muted videos without much interest, only pausing on clips of motorcycle rides. They bumped fists in greeting. A third helmet joined the lineup on the stand, its tinted visor catching the sunlight. Next, Killian’s gaze landed on Addams, who was peacefully napping on one of the couches, arms crossed over her chest. Teasing her was one of Killian’s favorite pastimes. He plopped down next to her with exaggerated force and shouted loudly: “Good morning, Vietna-a-a-a-m!” It wasn’t as epic as in that famous series, but it got the reaction he wanted. Irida, who was sitting nearby, jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm. Her hood slipped off, revealing a mess of fiery red hair tucked haphazardly under her hoodie. What an idiot. Krenaria pressed her lips together, shaking her head. All she could do now was watch as Morgan signed his own death warrant. The others, for the most part, ignored his antics. The moment the redhead spotted her assailant, she exploded in her usual fiery manner. “Are you a fucking asshole or what?” Addams said in a husky voice, “If you don't shut up, I'm gonna take a racquet and shove it up your ass, got it?” And she absolutely would. So Killian raised his hands in silent surrender, chuckling softly, and turned his attention to the others in the foyer. “You all look so miserable. Not excited about the start of the new season?” he asked sarcastically, addressing no one in particular. “And you’re unusually chipper, spider-monkey,” Krenaria remarked, leaning against the stand. “Already got your adrenaline fix,” she added with a nod toward Irida. “Save those horsepower for practice.” Winking at Irida, Krenaria flashed a predatory grin at her friend. Nev, momentarily distracted from the antics he, Tallon, and Marco were engaged in, snapped his fingers in Krenaria’s direction and gave her a nod of approval.

*** 

Growing up in the family of a coach meant being the best at everything—whether you wanted to or not. All summer long, Eros pushed Amor through drills on their home Exy field to ensure he didn’t forget how to hold a racquet or lose his skills. Amor, however, was convinced he could flawlessly perform every exercise even if woken at 3 a.m., handed a stick, and sent onto the field in just his underwear. A sleek new Mercedes parked next to the black Bentley convertible belonging to his best friend, Cain Manor. They had already seen each other earlier in the dorms while unloading their things. Amor stepped out of his car and knocked on the Bentley’s window with his knuckle. Cain responded almost immediately, stepping out while still glued to his phone. “What’s got your attention this time?” Amor asked, running a hand through his pale locks. “Checking out the team roster,” Cain replied coolly, locking his car with the key fob. Amor rolled his eyes and slid on his black sunglasses. He stuck a cigarette between his teeth and lit it, glancing around for his father. “Nothing’s changed on that roster—what are you even looking for?” Cain mimicked Amor, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “I want to know what we’re up against. Not all the Snakes are as squeaky clean as they try to appear in public,” Cain said, locking his phone and leaning against his car. “I couldn’t care less. I know I play better than any of them. That’s all that matters to me.” “That’s exactly what worries me.” “Relax. Everyone here will be eating out of our hands,” Amor said, squinting up at the bright sun. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and raised his hand toward the sky, framing the glowing orb with his fingers, blocking its rays from his sunglasses-covered eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? We need to become a team with them, not compete against them.” “There’s no growth without competition.” Amor flashed a dazzling smile before biting the filter of his cigarette again. Cain opened his mouth to argue, but Amor pushed off the Bentley’s trunk and took a few steps toward the entrance of the Snake Pit, where the rest of the freshmen and his father were already gathered. “Let’s go,” he tossed over his shoulder, flicking the cigarette away. Eros stood slightly off to the side, speaking on the phone with a folder of documents tucked under his arm. Amor surveyed the group. He had already passed judgment on them back at the dorm but hadn’t bothered to learn their names. The blonde girl, dressed to perfection, looked like a living Barbie doll — he gave her a 9 out of 10, docking a point for being too serious. The shorter brunette with matching eyes got an 8 out of 10, penalized for her height and shyness. The one with short pink curls scored a 6 out of 10, losing points for her height, clinginess, and her resemblance to an overly eager puppy. As for the only other guy besides Cain, Amor wasn’t sure what to think of him yet—too quiet. For now, he settled on a 7 out of 10, leaving room for change. “I don’t see why everyone has to wait until you’ve enjoyed yourselves and finished chatting?” Eros snapped.  “We haven’t exactly enjoyed ourselves ... yet,” Amor quipped, laughing on the last word. Eros shot him a stern look and held out his hand. Amor sighed, rolling his eyes, and handed over the pack of cigarettes, which Eros immediately tossed into the trash. He didn’t demand the same from Cain. The coach then showed them the code to the Snake Pit’s entrance. The group entered the facility and followed Eros inside. Eveline quickly fell in step beside Amor, positioning herself between him and Cain. She had known for a while that Coach Maniae’s son would be attending this university and joining the Snakes. Eveline had been following his social media for some time and wasn’t about to miss the chance to join the team and befriend him. Amor, however, paid her no attention, even now, when she stood before him not as just another comment under his posts but in person. No matter — this was only their first day. She was confident she would pique his interest soon enough. Eros showed them the field entrance, locker rooms, and showers. The freshmen received keys to their lockers. The coach told them they’d inspect the contents later, but Amor couldn’t resist opening his right away and earned a smack on the head with the hefty folder for his trouble. As they approached the foyer, the group heard a commotion beyond the doors. Amor glanced at Cain and nudged his shoulder to get him to relax. Cain nudged back, causing Amor to stumble slightly into Eveline. He apologized with an innocent smile, which flustered her as she quickly waved it off, insisting it was fine and no big deal. Eros threw open both doors to the foyer and stepped inside. His gaze swept the room, landing on the team captain, who was sticking his tongue out at Marco. “Bresset! Turn on your captain mode and get everyone in line!” he barked. With his tongue still sticking out, Nev turned his head toward Eros. Realizing his mistake, he quickly straightened up and scrambled out of the beanbag chair, where he’d been practically folded in half. “Yes, coach,” he replied enthusiastically, his eyes darting to the newcomers gathered near Eros. Nev clapped his hands a few times to grab everyone's attention. Most of the Snakes looked up, except for a few who were still dozing in their spots. “Addams!” Nev barked, startling Irida, who instinctively hugged her water bottle and looked around in confusion. Marco gave the freshmen a friendly wave—a rare show of politeness for Snakes. Nev nodded at him appreciatively. Meanwhile, Killian and Krenaria turned to the coach with composed expressions, giving a calm but audible greeting: “Good morning, coach.” Storm, who had been sitting with only one earbud in, heard Eros arrive and exhaled in relief — thankfully, he hadn’t started a new game. He reached over and patted Darcy on the head, eliciting a disgruntled groan. “Dude, the coach is here,” Storm murmured, shaking Darcy gently awake. Darcy rolled over and slumped onto the floor, rubbing his face and eyes. Before Storm could move on to waking Ice, a pen cap hit Ice squarely in the chin. “What son of a bitch hasn't eaten dirt in awhile?” Ice muttered, stretching his stiff neck as he glanced around. Amor and Cain exchanged amused glances. Eros raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, watching the barely-awake Satherland. “The same one who hasn’t run a marathon in awhile,” Eros quipped, clearly accustomed to the Snakes’ sharp tongues. Darcy groaned and dragged himself toward the foyer exit, motioning for the freshmen to move aside so he could pass. But Eros stopped him in his tracks. “Williams, did I say you could leave?” “Coach, the drought's making me crumble, and the coolers are empty,,” Darcy croaked, his voice raspy. “No. This meeting won’t take long—you’ll survive.” “Fuck...,” Darcy muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel to rejoin the group. As he turned, he spotted Irida’s water bottle and was beside her in an instant. Without hesitation, he snatched it from her hands and took a few long gulps, deftly dodging her attempts to snatch it back. “Hey! I want some too!” Storm shouted, suddenly aware of his own thirst. Darcy tossed the bottle to him after twisting the cap back on. Storm managed only a couple of sips before Ice grabbed the bottle, desperate for the liquid. Meanwhile, Krenaria approached the seething Irida from behind and pressed her hands firmly on her shoulders, pinning her to the couch. The gesture nearly brought her face-to-face with her brother. “How about we send you to the watering hole, eh, Ice? Preferably Antarctica. “How about we dunk your face in the toilet, eh, Krenaria? You're used to it.” Amor stifled a laugh behind his hand. He knew both Ice and Krenaria from their school days, and it seemed nothing had changed between them. “Is that the best you’ve got?” Krenaria retorted, narrowing her eyes. “No, you already said the best fucking thing,” Ice shot back, propping his cheek on his fist as he turned his gaze toward the newcomers. Krenaria scowled at him, wrinkling her nose. Meanwhile, Irida gathered what little strength she had left, still battling her hangover. With an exasperated grunt, she climbed over the couch’s backrest, shoving Krenaria in the process. “If I were you, Addams, I’d tone it down,” Krenaria said, her voice tinged with warning. “If I were you, Heart, I wouldn’t touch me,” Irida shot back, her tone rough. “Alright, Snakes, all conflicts are settled on the field,” Nev interjected, stepping between the girls. Killian shook his head and clicked his tongue. That fiery Redhead had found her target, though luckily, it wasn’t him. He couldn’t hide his disappointment as the confrontation fizzled out — what could’ve been an entertaining brawl ended prematurely. Krenaria wasn’t interested in continuing the argument. With a dismissive wave at both Irida and her brother, she headed back toward the stand. As she walked, her gaze flicked to Amor. He was the spitting image of his father — something that had only become more apparent as they’d grown older. The only difference was the soft facial features he’d inherited from his mother. “Is everybody awake? Good. Gather around and listen to the coach,” Nev instructed, clapping his hands again to emphasize the point. Winking at Mr. Maniae, Nev landed with his backside on the back of the couch, an arm's length away from Ice, and this time, he carefully examined the faces of the newcomers. He was indirectly familiar with all of them from the files provided by Eros. Nev had personally selected some of the players, listening to the coach's advice. For example, Corbin Hartley—a simple-looking guy with a pretty face and dark hair — had delivered excellent speed results in his final years of school. In the Snake team, this quality would be useful and give the team an advantage. It wouldn’t be hard to befriend him, as the file indicated he was non-confrontational and even stood out for his restraint. Naitiri Mecento — Nev had heard of her. She had become quite popular among her peers as a defender during her school years. Her maneuverability and quick reactions, as shown in some of the footage he had watched, were impressive. He was curious to see how she would perform now as a member of the Snakes. Outwardly, she was an absolutely unshakable girl. Nev thought that if she reacted so calmly to all the circus around her, she might handle things even better than he had expected. Eveline Grayson—a girl with a striking appearance—tried to stay closer to the guys than the girls, and that stood out a bit. Her gaze darted from side to side. Nev thought that this was a deliberate display of how well she could read the movements of those around her, as she had been quite good at distributing passes. Her photo in the file differed from how she looked now, but Nev wasn’t at all bothered by that. The pink hair suited her even more than the blue did. Mala Carvet, as an attacking midfielder, would be a great replacement for Ruben, a former team member (and Nev’s ex-boyfriend) in the same position. Considering her passion for dancing, Nev could bet that in tandem with other players, she could unleash some great plays, and her short stature wouldn’t matter much. The captain had personally asked the coach to take this girl for the position, and when it worked out, Nev smiled victoriously. He also smiled back at Mala now, nodding a greeting. She responded with a "Victory" sign. Cain Manor was an indisputable choice for the coach. At first glance, it was clear that he had all the necessary qualities. He had been the captain of his previous team and had handled his responsibilities excellently. Nev wouldn’t even think to argue with the coach about his selection for the team — Cain’s stats and results were promising. His build was pretty good for a defender, and he had a pleasant face. Nev hoped he would be able to work well with him. Amor Maniae — the highlight of the year — was now, by a happy coincidence, looking directly at Nev. When their eyes met, Nev didn’t lose his smile. Amor gave Nev a thumbs up, acknowledging his work calming the team. With a brief wink at the guy, Nev gently moved his gaze away from Amor. Eros’ son, Amor Maniae, had nothing but astonishing results in his file, and his references were beyond reproach. Eros had suggested the captain watch a few games that featured the younger Maniae, and Nev had immediately agreed, diving into the task. Coming from the same school as Krenaria and Ice, Amor was very, very popular for his seventeen years. When Krenaria talked about him, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but Nev was more interested in seeing how Amor would perform in a more neutral setting. Nev, of course, had listened to Krenaria’s opinion about Amor’s specific character, but he wasn’t ready to make premature conclusions. At first glance, he seemed like a nice guy. “Alright,” Eros started, “I’m really glad to see you sticking to your idiocy. At least the newbies' rose-colored glasses shattered in my presence. Let’s start from the beginning. This year, we have six new players. Whether you like it or not, they’re now part of the ship, and that means if something goes wrong, we all sink together. You’ve got five days to get used to each other, after that, we start training. Williams, this includes you too. Think I don’t see you sleeping?” “I’m listening,” Darcy mumbled into his palm, still supporting his face with his hands. “So, the fourth and fifth years are out, and the first-years take their places. Room 303, Killian, you’ve got three: Corbin, Amor, and Cain. 366 stays the same,” Storm, Ice and Darcy fist-bumped each other happily. ‘SID’ remained unchanged. “As does 306, Nev, Tallon, and Marco, you won’t have anyone for now. 326, Irida and Krenaria, you’re getting Mala, try not to kill her.” Krenaria didn’t look at Irida after the coach’s words, but she did glance at Mala with interest. “Try not to kill her” sounded so intriguing that Krenaria silently accepted the challenge. The girl seemed pretty cute, but Krenaria was hoping to see some backbone in her and didn’t want to treat her as a weakling. She didn’t get along very well with girls, and her conflicts with Addams were proof of that. “Arrea, in 369 you get Eveline and Naitiri – no more loneliness.” Just as Arrea opened her mouth to protest the new roommate arrangement, the coach immediately interrupted her mental tirade: “No objections. Starting Tuesday, we’ll have morning and evening trainings. The first game is on August 27, and I doubt anyone did any real work over the holidays.” Eros looked around at everyone. Arrea shook her head and rolled her eyes, glaring at the tanned blonde and the pink-haired girl. “If I leave you for 20 minutes to go get the passes for the new students, will you not destroy everything here? Bresset,” Eros pointed his pen at Nev, “I’m counting on you.” The captain accepted the task without protest, nodding to him, still not entirely sure whether everything would remain intact by the time Eros returned. Even he couldn’t guarantee it. He was curious to see what would come of it... While light chaos reigned in the foyer and the coach was throwing out instructions, Amor was watching Krenaria. Since their last encounter, Heart hadn’t changed much. She was still into bikers, still a cocky bitch with a sharp tongue — nothing new. Once, Amor had rated her 6 out of 10, but now he’d probably raise her score by a couple of points in his eyes. Despite her awful character, the girl was still to his liking. It’s just that there was nothing to talk about with her — their interests diverged too much. They had once been a team on the school field for the exy, but that was all that connected them. Playing the same position had mostly led to some rivalry for dominance. Amor immediately shifted his focus to her brother, Ice. He didn’t know him well and had never spoken to him face-to-face. He and Krenaria had a lot in common, despite having different fathers. Ice had never appealed to Amor, but sometimes he enjoyed watching him put his sister in her place or vice versa. That kind of circus still amused him now. And how did it happen that their paths crossed again? Amor gave Ice a 3 out of 10 and moved on. Next to him, apparently, were his buddies. As far as Amor could remember, one of them was named Storm: his body was covered with countless tattoos, as if there was a tattoo machine lying around at home and he used it on his own body whenever he got bored. Amor gave him a 6 out of 10. On the floor, by the couch, sat a red-haired guy named Darcy. Amor remembered him from his blacked out leg, which went up to the knee. Right now, he was wearing black denim shorts, so spotting the inked leg wasn’t hard. He sat with his face covered by his hands, looking like he was suffering from a lack of sleep. Amor gave him the same score as Storm. Hanging out with them would be interesting. The next target of the ruthless evaluation was the team captain, sitting near the trio — Neville Bresset. He gave the impression of being an open guy, someone you could talk to about a lot of things, and from what Amor could tell, he had a sense of humor, which was the most important thing in a person. His black hair, braided into a long braid, hung behind his back. His almond-shaped eyes kept wandering around the room, genuinely studying those standing by the door. Amor gave him a 9 out of 10, docking one point for the captain’s title, which his best friend had been so eager to achieve. In the chair nearby, two guys sat one atop the other. Guessing their orientation wasn’t difficult. The smaller one seemed friendly and quite harmless. But his height… what position did he play again? Backliner? Amor could practically step over him — how could he guard the goal? Maniae gave him an 8 out of 10. Beneath him sat a guy with coppery-auburn hair. Amor tried to guess where he might be from but came up empty. He was a goalkeeper, but Amor had forgotten his name. There was nothing particularly memorable about him, so Amor gave him a 7 out of 10 and moved on. The red-haired girl, whose bottle had been stolen, looked cute but far too sleepy and aggressive. Her personality matched Krenaria’s. Amor figured it was due to a hangover and rated her an 8 out of 10. Under more favorable circumstances, she could climb higher in the rankings. Sitting somewhere near the red-haired girl was another guy. Judging by appearances, he was one of the owners of the helmets lined up on the shelf. Amor recalled seeing three motorcycles in the parking lot. If one belonged to him, who owned the other two? Maybe one was the redhead’s. Or Krenaria’s? Why not? That obsessed gearhead adored them so much that Amor wouldn’t be surprised if she had one. But the third? The captain’s, perhaps, or maybe that quiet girl sitting away from everyone else? For a moment, Amor considered that this guy — what was his name again… Kilvin? Kieran? Yeah, Kieran, probably — might currently be dating Krenaria but immediately dismissed the thought. What idiot would put up with her personality? In any case, if they were dating, Amor gave him a 5 out of 10, deducting points for idiocy. If not, then an 8 out of 10. The last girl, an Asian, was the quietest of them all, but she exuded an aura that made Amor uneasy just by looking at her. Without lingering his gaze, he gave her a 3 out of 10 and glanced over at Cain. "Are you doing it again?" his friend whispered. Amor nodded enthusiastically, widening his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. This year promised to be intense and fun. Amor leaned against the doorframe and pushed his glasses up onto his head. As soon as Eros disappeared behind the doors, everyone finally exhaled in relief. Maniae Jr. fixed his piercing blue gaze on Krenaria. "Missed me, Heart?" "Oh, so much, Maniae," the girl replied in the same tone. Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes. "Still a striker?" "Still," Amor confirmed, then added, "ready to send you to the bench." Cain nudged him in the side, but the gesture had no effect on Amor, though it amused Krenaria. Her smile only widened. Amor was unlikely to be stopped by such a gesture. "We’ll see," she nodded. Not everyone saw competition as the engine of progress for the team, but most adhered to that path, Krenaria among them. Pushing off the shelf she was leaning on, she took a step toward him but stopped without coming any closer. "Glad to see you haven’t changed your ways." Amor laughed, lowering his head to look at the ground. "Hope you’ve got something to surprise me with." Krenaria raised her eyebrows in amusement, nodded, and lost interest in the conversation. "Now we can get to know each other for real — after all the posturing," Nev turned to his teammates. "But before that, let me say — welcome to the team, everyone!" He nodded politely and continued, "My name’s Nev Bresset. I’m a backliner and, as you’ve probably guessed from the coach’s colorful comments, the team captain. I’m studying English and Creative Writing. If you’ve got any questions or requests, I’m at your service. But remember," Nev raised a finger, "all services come with a price." After the captain welcomed the new players, Killian wasted no time brushing off the unnecessary introductions so he could bury himself in his phone before Coach Maniae returned. After all, the rookies would show what they were capable of on the field. Morgan was an open person by nature, but these new acquaintances were sometimes hard for him to handle. "I’d like to say it’s not always this chaotic around here, but I don’t like lying," he said cheerfully. "I’m Killian Morgan, a striker. I’m studying Philosophy, though I doubt any of you enrolled in that dumpster fire. Nice to meet you all." He waved casually and immediately buried his head in his phone, watching a biker disassemble their bike’s engine in a video. Throughout the introductions, Naitiri had been silently observing everyone. She wanted to sit down—her shoes were expensive, but that didn’t make them comfortable. Spotting a tall side table to her right, she placed her bag on it and perched herself there. For now, her attention was drawn only to the blonde guy, who, like her, was a freshman. "I’m Irida Addams," the redhead said, "also a striker. Normally, I’m not this grouchy, but I think you’ve all noticed this team loves a good party. I’m in Criminal Justice. If anyone else is and needs help, I’m happy to lend a hand." Her voice was raspy, thanks to the sheer number of cigarettes she had smoked yesterday. Her lungs were practically ready to abandon her body, but that didn’t mean she didn’t crave a smoke right now. "I hope we all get along." Yeah, a warm welcome indeed. The Snakes sure knew how to leave an impression — a brutally honest one. "And watch out for this Redhead — she bites," Morgan added without looking up from his phone. "Didn’t I already tell you to shut up, or does your leaky head let everything slip through?" Addams snapped, pulling her hood back over her head. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. Don’t lose your temper yet," Morgan replied nonchalantly. "Then stop annoying me so I don’t lose it. What’s with all of you constantly provoking each other?" With that, their brief verbal spat came to an end. Naitiri watched Irida, her expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. And since everyone else remained silent, she decided to introduce herself. She didn’t feel the need to mention her last name right now, even if some already knew it. Drawing attention to her background wasn’t necessary. "My name’s Naitiri. I played as a backliner in school and had some success with it. I’m also in Criminal Justice." At those words, she glanced at the Redhead, who, upon hearing where Naitiri would be studying, actually pulled her hood down to get a better look at her for the first time. Tilting her head slightly, Irida smiled faintly. "Wow. You totally look like a law student. Which is more than I can say for myself," she chuckled lightly. With a condescending smile, the newcomer replied, "Yes, you’re right. You don’t look like a future lawyer at all." Naitiri’s tone dripped with sarcasm, clearly rubbing Irida the wrong way. She had been trying to be nice, damn it! This doll in her expensive clothes obviously thought far too highly of herself. Even Killian looked up from his phone, clearly hoping for a fight to break out. Irida pressed her lips together and squinted. Attacking the new girl within minutes of meeting her wasn’t rational. But when had she ever been rational? "You might want to tone down the arrogance, sweetheart," Irida said slowly and clearly. "If you think your Chanel bag gives you the right to be rude, you’re in for a surprise—no one here’s impressed." In response, she received another smile from that blonde bitch. Yeah, with that kind of attitude, she’ll fit right in with the Snakes. “We’ll see about that,” Naitiri said, keeping her face calm and composed. “Give me a cigarette,” Irida grumbled at Killian. No politeness, just a blunt order rather than a request. Killian didn’t hesitate for long. “I’ll go with you. Maniae will be back soon, and I didn’t have a chance to smoke this morning,” he said, standing up with her. They headed toward the lobby exit, leaving the team staring in surprise. Morgan tipped an imaginary hat and gave a bow, lingering a moment as he looked at the newcomer. “Nice meeting everyone again. See you in ten minutes,” he said cheerfully. Then, lowering his voice, he added: “If I don’t come back, call the cops.” “I can hear you, Morgan!” Irida yelled, already far ahead. While everyone was distracted by the exchange between Irida and Naitiri, Storm pulled a half-empty vial of pills and a clear plastic baggie out of his pocket. He slipped two pills into it and rolled it into a tight tube. Arrea, meanwhile, was engrossed in the contents of a drawer in the middle of the room: random papers, a few pens, and something resembling a stapler—but without staples. Instead, it had sharp, fang-like teeth, reminding her of a snake’s jaws. She decided to call it the office cobra. Gripping the baggie between two fingers, Storm cupped his hands around it and blew. The baggie flew across the room and hit Arrea on the back of her head, interrupting her attempt to bite her finger with the anti-stapler. “Work it off,” Storm teased, winking as he slipped the vial back into his pocket. Arrea fished the baggie out of her loose shirt collar and deep neckline. “Thanks, Stormy,” she chuckled, blowing him a kiss. Rising to her feet, she stuffed the baggie into the pouch on her belt, tossing the cobra in there too. Neither Darcy nor Ice paid any attention to the whole scene. “Like anyone gives a damn about you,” Darcy mumbled as he stood. Stretching his neck, he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for the exit without explaining himself. Neither Storm nor Ice bothered to ask where he was going. As Darcy passed by, Eveline had to shift slightly, accidentally bumping into Amor’s shoulder. Marco, who had been idly bouncing his leg, suddenly froze and stared at the blond, as if trying to read something in him. Mala perked up slightly. The chaotic mess of activity in the lobby was overwhelming, but she hoped this wasn’t a regular occurrence. She wanted to believe she could make friends with the Snakes—at least some of them. Watching the three walk away, she felt a little disappointed but decided to introduce herself. “Um, hi, my name is Mala Carvet. I’m studying choreography because I’ve been dancing all my life, and I love it as much as I love playing Exy.” From somewhere in the room came an excited shout. Marco sprang from his seat, darted over to Mala, and clasped her hands in his own, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “What kind of dancing do you do?” Mala’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t falter, breaking into a bright smile. “I used to do ballroom dancing, then contemporary. Now I’m into hip-hop, but I’d love to try street jazz and femme dancehall too.” As Marco listened, he bit his lower lip in anticipation. “Wow, wow, wow!” he practically bounced with excitement. “Will you dance with me sometime?” Mala beamed, squeezing his hands in return and rising onto her toes. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Marco mirrored her, standing on his toes, then suddenly swept her into a hug and spun her around. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly set her back down, stepped away, and offered a handshake. “By the way, I’m Marco. I study art with a focus on women’s, gender, and sexuality studies, and I play defense on the team,” he rattled off loud enough for the other freshmen to hear. “Cool! Can you tell me more about what you study?” From a corner of the room, Ice was observing them. The girl had caught his attention, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his upper lip. He decided he’d talk to her when the chance arose. Once Mala and Marco stopped chattering and calmed down, Corbin stepped forward, glancing over the remaining people in the room. He walked past a dark-haired guy standing nearby, then waved to the group, turning to include those behind him as well. It was a little awkward, but he didn’t let it throw him off. Introducing himself to his teammates was an important step. Getting in was one thing, but the rest depended on him. “Hi,” he began, placing a hand over his chest, which covered the icon on his T-shirt. “I’m Corbin Hartley. I’m majoring in visual arts with a concentration in photojournalism.” “Welcome. You’ll spend your first semester shooting rocks and horizons,” Arrea chimed in, not looking up from her phone. She dropped into an armchair, throwing her legs over the armrest. “Then it’s just the usual: asphalt, landscapes, people, cars, random crap, and more people. I’m Arrea, by the way.” She gave a Vulcan salute, her eyes fixed on Corbin’s face. He found her amusing, smiling briefly, but when the eye contact dragged on, he frowned and looked away. “Uh, nice to meet you,” Corbin exhaled, tearing a piece of skin from his lower lip. Returning his focus to those still paying attention, he blinked and continued. “Anyway, I really like photography. For a couple of years, I shot pictures at my high school Exy matches, then started doing my own stuff. Now, I’m your new middleman.” "Awesome! Can you shoot videos too?" Mala asked eagerly. "It’d be great to record mine and Marco’s dances." Corbin glanced at her, pressing his lips together. "Well, yeah, I can. It’s not that different, and I have some experience," he replied with a shrug, stepping closer to join the conversation. Amor pushed himself off the wall, gently nudging Eveline aside. To command more attention, he clapped his hands once, causing Mala, Corbin, and Marco to fall silent. "Many of you already know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Amor Claude Maniae," he said, pronouncing his middle name and surname with a distinct French accent. "I’m studying langue, littérature et culture françaises , but that’s just a detail. I’m here to play Exy at a professional level, and I hope you won’t disappoint me. Honestly, I’m not interested in socializing with most of you." Amor smiled, biting his lower lip before theatrically spreading his arms wide. "My goal is to make it to the National Exy Team. All I need from you is to stay out of my way." A heavy silence settled over the room. Ice, propping his cheek on his fist, was the first to break it. "Well, damn, Princess Isabelle de Ligne de La Trémoille, do you need a tiara, or should we kiss your ass? I didn’t quite catch your point in all that crap," he drawled. Darcy walked back in just as Ice finished speaking, scratching his wet head. It seemed he had managed to shower and freshen up, now looking more energetic than five minutes ago. Amor completely ignored Ice, not even glancing his way. Cain covered his face with his hand. The younger Maniae knew exactly what kind of reaction his words would provoke and was prepared for it. Besides, he didn’t care. He wasn’t here for them. Joining the university and its team was merely another step toward his goal. "No questions? No questions," Amor answered himself. Krenaria hadn’t expected anything less dramatic from his speech. "Did that little brat just decide to ignore me?" Ice muttered, slipping off the same ring he had thrown at Tallon earlier and this time hurling it at Amor. But Amor reacted quickly, stepping forward as the ring missed and clinked against the glass door near Corbin. Krenaria smirked openly at Ice’s outburst and the sight of the family signet ring flying toward Amor again. Storm, previously indifferent, looked up from his phone at Maniae. Amor continued to act as if Ice didn’t exist. "Alright, pretty boy, move along before they start throwing stones," Cain said, pushing him back. "Stones? At me?" Amor laughed. "They wouldn’t have the aim." Catching Cain’s serious look, Amor stepped aside and perched on a counter, blocking the team trophy with his back. "Anyway, hey everyone. My name’s Cain Manor. To preempt questions, yes, you’ve probably seen our jewelry stores around — they’re called ‘Manor,’" Cain said, miming air quotes at the end. He made eye contact with everyone while speaking. Keeping his hands in front of him, gently rubbing them together instead of locking them, Cain radiated the air of a friendly manager meeting new employees. His crisp white shirt only reinforced the impression. Amor clicked his tongue and grinned widely. "I’m studying International Business. On the field, I’m a backliner, and I used to captain my high school Exy team. In my free time, I enjoy reading, though I’m not against a drink, as long as it doesn’t interfere with training or a game. To me, the most important thing in the game is team spirit and mutual support — not a race for individual glory. So I’m always open to communication, feedback, and suggestions." "All businesslike. You’re just missing a bow tie, sweetheart," Amor quipped, earning a smile from Cain. "Oh, screw you," Cain retorted, blushing slightly as he returned to his spot. Tallon vaulted over the back of a chair, landing in front of Cain and looming slightly taller. His angular smile was almost predatory, but there was an unmistakable warmth behind it. "Tallon Lancer, goalkeeper, graphic design major. Nice to see someone with that kind of attitude. Good luck. I mean it — good luck," he said, emphasizing the last words with deliberate intensity. A few strands of dark auburn hair fell across his face as he spoke. Saluting Cain, Tallon leaned back against his favorite chair, resting his lower back against it. Turning to Arrea, who stood with her arms crossed indifferently by the wall, Nev gave her a subtle nod, silently asking if she planned to introduce herself. She shrugged without interest, biting the forked tip of her tongue. Nev exhaled, tilting his head toward her as he addressed the newcomers. "This is Arrea Wong, another one of our goalkeepers. Unassuming, slippery — think of her as Georgiy’s best friend. You’ll meet him once we’re back at the dorm. No need to fear her. Arrea, give us a smile," Nev raised an eyebrow at her. She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind but decided to indulge his little public act. Extending the tips of her split tongue, she flashed a predatory grin. Her light-brown eyes swept over the freshmen and the others still lingering in the foyer. Catching Bresset’s gaze, Arrea mock-saluted him. Happy now? Screw you. Nev’s attention shifted to Krenaria, who stretched as if waking from a nap, offering an encouraging smile his way. She turned to the newcomers, letting her gaze rest on each of them in turn — everyone except Amor, who had no need for her introduction. "I’m Krenaria Leverette Heart," she began, deliberately emphasizing her middle name more out of spite than necessity. Glancing briefly at an amused Amor, she continued, "As you already know, I’m a striker. I aim to play Exy professionally, continuing the family tradition." She brushed an invisible speck off her fitted pants. "Like Cap, I study English and Creative Writing. In my spare time, I ride motorcycles. If I’m not on the field or the highway, you’ll find me in the library — though probably not with academic material." A faint smile graced her lips, only to disappear quickly. "Never mind she’s high on her way," Ice interrupted, biting a knuckle with a smirk. Krenaria shot her brother with a glare that could melt steel before carrying on. "My only and most important advice to you: ‘Snakes always bite back.’ Competition or not," her eyes darted between Amor and Cain, "you’re Snakes. Or at least, you’ll become them. Welcome to the real pit." "Uh, thank you, Ri. Thanks," Nev interjected, nodding as he removed his hand from his mouth. "And these guys here," he gestured to three guys who lived in the room next to him, Marco, and Tallon, "are Icel–" Nev paused as Ice shot him a pointed look, daring him to say his full name. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Ice Satherland, our third goalkeeper and resident ray of sunshine lighting up this foyer, as you can see. Darcy Williams, our defensive midfielder and sleeping beauty. And finally, Storm Havers, our electrifying striker." "You're talking a shitload of bullshit today," Ice remarked, not even sparing Nev a glance. "Gotten over your emo heartbreak over your ‘hole’ yet?" Nev froze mid-thought, not bothering to open his mouth. Tallon whipped around, barking a sharp rebuke at Ice, but it had no effect. Clenching his jaw, Tallon fell silent. Storm and Darcy exchanged uneasy looks. The sound of a candy breaking under teeth echoed in the quiet room. Darcy cracked his knuckles, his eyes flitting between Nev, Tallon, and Marco. The latter, who had been chatting peacefully with Mala and Corbin, now wore a rare expression of severity. Ice kept scrolling on his phone, oblivious or indifferent to the tension. Nev inhaled briefly, but before he could say anything, Marco broke the silence. “I think you're a total dickhead and should shut that shithole you call a mouth,” he argued. Tallon turned to Marco, nearly dropping his jaw. This side of him rarely surfaced, and it wasn’t one anyone liked provoking — but Ice had crossed that line with a single sentence he probably didn’t fully understand. The instigator raised his eyebrows at Marco’s words, lips pressed into a silent, mocking "Oh yeah? What else?" Nev knew that being part of a team meant an unspoken awareness of everyone’s business, but he’d begun to forget that lately. The departure of the fifth-years two months ago hadn’t ended on good terms, and it had become clear in how everyone was acting. Jaw tight, Nev locked eyes on Ice, who had taken things too far today. "Usually, I’m the asshole, but I think I’ve found someone worse, right, Cain? Maybe I’m not so bad after all," Amor chimed in, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed behind his head, watching Nev for a reaction to the provocation. Eveline stifled a soft giggle at Maniae’s words. Arrea silently observed, shifting her gaze from one person to another. Krenaria, while throwing a side glance at Amor, was ready to bristle at her brother, but Nev suddenly couldn’t hold back and let out an irritated chuckle. "You know what, Ice? You’re right. My emo `heartbreak` is so overwhelming I just can’t handle it," Nev said, quoting Ice's words with finger air quotes. His tone hardened, not turning to anger but clearly showing disdain. He practically spat out the final words: "Want to help? You’d do a great job." "Nothing can help you anymore," Ice smirked, holding Nev's gaze. Nev didn’t react to the fact that Ice deigned to actually meet his eyes. There was absolutely nothing in them — no regret, no intention to take back his words. Nev hadn’t expected anything in the first place. "Thanks for the observation," Nev said, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. With that, the conversation was over. Turning back to the first-years, he sighed, his shoulders slightly slumping. "Please excuse me, greenhorns. I’ll be stepping away for a moment. Enjoy getting acquainted," he added with a strained smile before walking past all six of them, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as he went. Tallon and Marco exchanged a glance before following after him. Tallon turned back to look at Ice one last time but snorted and quickened his pace. Storm, not taking his eyes off his phone, addressed the group. "What the fuck are you blabbing about? We can't do without a bottle of vodka anyway,” he tossed the phone aside. “Let’s throw a party tonight, get to know each other there, instead of everyone’s so fucking serious." "Oh, for fuck’s sake," Darcy sighed. "Drinking again?" Within a few minutes, Irida and Killian returned to the lobby. Corbin, momentarily distracted from Mala, picked up a stray ring that had rolled across the floor. It belonged to a sullen figure sitting nearby with a face like a thundercloud. Gesturing for Mala to wait, he approached the couch. "Here," Corbin said briefly, handing the ring back to Ice. "Who managed to piss off Bresset?" Killian decided to ask, though the answer was obvious. Ice silently accepted the ring from Corbin’s hand. "Someone who doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut," Krenaria snapped, shooting a glare at her brother. A little more, and she probably would’ve lunged at him, but she refrained from causing a scene. No one from the trio answered Killian’s question, but the glances from the rest of the team made everything clear. Ice and Storm didn’t react to the unspoken accusations, while Darcy, feeling the team’s unpleasantly pointed stares, rolled his eyes. "What the fuck are you staring at?" he snapped. "Everybody's so fucking holy, it's sickening." Williams didn’t defend Ice, but only because he couldn’t care less about either his friend’s provocations or the feelings Ice had hurt. Running a hand through his damp, disheveled hair, the black "no future" tattoo along his hairline became clearly visible. He was initially going to ignore Krenaria’s comment, but something—maybe the lingering hangover irritation — changed his mind. "You think you're so fucking better than us, right? Krenaria, you're always bullshitting yourself, or don't you notice that?" Darcy’s voice was utterly calm, almost drained of emotion. "Right on, dude," Storm chimed in, grinning broadly but not looking up from his phone. Arrea clicked her tongue at that and pointed a finger in his direction in agreement.  "Exactly. That’s how you deal with her." Their mutual animosity had been simmering since the first year, despite repeated attempts to mend things. "Get the fuck away from us and be happy, 'cause we don't give a fuck about you and your whining and shit,” Darcy finished and turned away from everybody, pulling out his phone. Of course. Where Ice was, his two loyal lapdogs were sure to follow, always ready to leap off the leash at the slightest provocation. Krenaria had anticipated this in advance. They’d never back down from their words, nor take any responsibility. She hated hearing Ice’s words directed at her friend, but Ria couldn’t step forward to oppose him. Nev could handle it himself, and even if she did intervene, Ice wouldn’t care — he’d been that way since childhood. “Don’t take offense when no one’s talking to you, Williams, and you’ll be just fine,” Krenaria retorted dryly, not even sparing a glance at Darcy or his bright red hair, which flared somewhere in her peripheral vision. She didn’t intend to continue the conversation but couldn’t let it slide either. If he wanted to bite, let him — she’d long since donned thick leather gloves that snake fangs couldn’t pierce. “For fuck’s sake, you’re all so goddamn annoying!” Irida finally snapped, still standing in the doorway with Morgan. “Can’t you go one day without acting like idiots? I get it — nobody gives a damn about anyone or anything — but could we at least pretend we’re a team and not a bunch of alcoholics and lunatics ready to tear each other’s throats out? And yeah, I know I’ve made mistakes too, but seriously, cut it out already!” Her voice was sharp. This was one of Addams’ defining traits — she could be aggressive and call people out but hated when everything devolved into chaos. Exy and the team meant a lot to her, even if she didn’t plan to pursue professional sports. She didn’t want the newcomers thinking they were a pack of criminals. Naitiri smirked at the unfolding scene, silently watching. That Redhead was right — their group did give off that impression. It was hard to call them a team just yet. There were those three… what were their names again? Storm, Ice, and Darcy. And then there was Arrea. They were a separate unit — it was obvious from the start. The others got along relatively well but still had moments of tension, as if unresolved issues lingered. Maybe it was just the long summer break, who knows. Cain assessed the situation. Ice was clearly in the wrong, but apologizing wasn’t in his nature — that much was obvious, and Cain didn’t dwell on it. As he worked through his analysis, Storm suddenly sprang up from the couch. “Man, you’re all such buzzkills,” Storm muttered on an exhale, scanning the room. A sudden surge of energy hit him, making his hands and fingers twitch. His legs felt restless — he had to do something with the energy. “I don’t care what you’ve all decided; we’re doing a freshman initiation tonight. Gonna turn them into real Snakes,” he declared with a gleam in his eyes and a grin stretching from ear to ear. His bangs fell into his eyes as he scooped up his phone from the couch. Deciding to make it a sort of interview, he ignored Darcy and Ice — it was pointless to ask them anything since Storm’s parties always involved their block anyway. Havers plopped down next to Arrea. “Shit, that hurt,” he hissed, landing awkwardly. “Hey, Viper, are you coming to our freshman initiation?” He shoved an imaginary microphone in Wong’s face, staring at her sideways, still grinning. “Long time no see, you little viper,” Arrea chuckled, poking Storm in the ribs. Grabbing his wrist to steady him, she tapped a finger on the imaginary microphone like she was testing a real one. “Testing, testing — oh, it works. Sure, let’s give them a warm welcome!” Storm beamed, his eyes darting toward the newcomers. Springing to his feet, he approached Amor, leaning against the wall with his hands on either side of Amor’s head. Amor mirrored his grin, and for a moment, they just stared each other down, grinning maniacally. "You coming tonight, bleach prince? I’ve got a playlist, some questionable dance moves, and a throne with your name on it," Storm teased, his grin mischievous. Amor raised his eyebrows as Darcy snorted somewhere nearby. “What the hell did you just say?” Amor laughed, running a hand through his stark white hair that perfectly matched Storm’s playful jab. “Bleach prince, huh? Fine. If there’s a whole throne, count me in. Cain too — he’s all about royalty,” he added, shooting a quick grin at his friend. “Huh?” “Done deal, albino.” Storm pushed off the wall and turned to Mala. Stepping closer, he rested his elbow on her shoulder, looking into her eyes and edging Corbin out of the way. “Hey there, sweetie,” Storm began in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve got two tickets to the world of a great vibe tonight. One’s mine, and the other’s waiting for you. What do you say — ready to join me?” Storm playfully bit his lip and narrowed his eyes at Mala. She batted her lashes and broke into a smile, catching on to the joke. She extended her hand, as if to accept the “ticket.” Storm rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, he placed it in her hand, which closed around it instantly. “Thanks for the invite,” Mala said with a smile. Storm locked eyes with another newcomer he hadn’t noticed before. Pointing at him with a finger, a grin spread across his face again. His tongue ran along the edge of his upper teeth. “Well, well, who do we have here, baby boy? You joining the party?” Corbin opened his mouth, giving a slightly awkward smile at the unexpected performance. Scratching the back of his head and glancing at Mala, he nodded slowly. Why not? “Corbin, yeah,” he reminded him. “I’ll… uh, I’ll come.” Storm gave him a salute and, spinning around, ended up next to Cain. Remembering Amor’s earlier comment, he simply pointed at Manor before shifting to Eveline. He touched her pink hair, lifting it slightly with a wave of his hand. “Well, well, a mysterious and quiet soul — please, introduce yourself,” Storm said in an exaggeratedly serious tone, his expression matching his voice. Eveline lowered her phone and started twirling it near the hem of her tennis skirt. “Um… well, my name’s Eveline, but you can call me Eva or Lina. I’m also majoring in French language, literature, and culture,” she said with a smile, glancing at Amor, who looked at her in surprise. “In Exy, I’ve always played midfield. Besides that, I like listening to music, watching anime, or reading books.” “That’s awesome — there’ll definitely be music,” Storm assured her. “You coming?” Eveline smiled and nodded. She’d already decided to go when Amor agreed. Havers patted her on the shoulder and crouched in front of Naitiri, holding his phone like a microphone, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “Hello there, doll. We might not have Ley tequila or Chateau Lafite wine, and our whiskey is nowhere near Isabella’s Islay, but could you still grace our humble little gathering with your presence?” Mecento pressed her lips together in slight distaste, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Are you planning to drink beer in some kind of dump?” Storm burst out laughing, lowering his head. Her assumption made Ice and Darcy pause their phones and turn toward them. Williams laughed silently behind his hand, his shaking shoulders giving him away. “Yeah, we're going to pile under the bridge, set the tires on fire, spike and douse it all with beer,” Darcy shouted from his seat. Storm stopped his sarcastic tirade with a pointed finger. “I’m conducting the poll here; the audience stays quiet,” he threw back at him, then turned to Naitiri and continued in a completely serious tone. “No, ma’am. You might think of our dorm as a dump, but I doubt you’d call pure alcohol beer,” he joked, spreading his arms. Naitiri rolled her eyes. Well, she wasn’t going to say no, but caution was still a priority. “I’ll bring my own alcohol and only drink that,” the blonde declared firmly, texting Ray, her personal driver, to let him know they’d need to stop by a wine shop. Darcy raised an eyebrow slightly at Naitiri. Storm silently raised his hands in a capitulating gesture, nodding in understanding. “Got it. Too good to drink moonshine with the common folk,” he sighed dramatically, but within a second, he laughed, jumped to his feet, and was already in front of Irida. “Irida, bro, you ready to dedicate another night to alcoholism? Word is, they’re bringing in some premium booze tonight — you won’t have to mix vodka with water. What do you say, huh?” Storm said, grinning and egging her on with nods. Adams dreaded the question, knowing she’d feel terrible again tomorrow. But who was she to pass up a chance to party? Training sessions were about to start, and this kind of fun would be rare. She stared at Storm seriously for a few seconds, then broke into a wide grin. “Always down, bro. We say yes to drought in the morning!” Irida declared enthusiastically. “Good, that's the attitude I fucking like to get,” Storm cackled before extending his “microphone” toward Killian without moving. “How 'bout you, big boy? You riding high tonight?” Morgan briefly glanced at Irida before shifting his brown eyes back to Storm. “I’m always ready, my dear friend. You know that. Who else will film when this lady starts yelling ‘YOLO’ while standing on a table with a bottle of whiskey?” A sly smile crept across his face. “Oh no! You actually got it?” Irida groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Delete it!” “No way, Redhead. That moment must never be forgotten.” Irida groaned into her palms, trying to come to terms with her predicament. “Fine, fine. We’ll be there. Keep the show going, Storm,” she said as Killian smirked mischievously. “Sweet,” Storm chuckled, saluting them before spinning on his heels and heading toward Krenaria. With a couple of steps, he closed the distance between them, stopping almost uncomfortably close. “Hellooo, gorgeous! Word is, it’s gonna be fun tonight, but I highly doubt it’ll truly be fun unless you show up,” he said, flamboyantly fixing his hair and fluttering his eyelashes. Krenaria raised an eyebrow. Flattery, if less obvious, might have been a welcome touch. In this form, however, it was amusing at best. Still, it did entertain her. The tension lingering among the Snakes seemed to dissipate as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “I’ll come. Now go,” she said with a chuckle, visibly more cheerful than before. A cold but faint smile touched her lips. She brushed a couple of strands from Storm’s forehead and gently pushed him away. Upon returning to the hall, the first thing Eros saw when he crossed the threshold was Storm standing on the coffee table in the center of the room. Storm didn’t notice him, and Eros chose to stay silent for a moment, observing. Tallon, Marco, and Nev stood nearby, also watching. “I’ll probably pass out in a couple of hours,” Storm announced, looking at his wrist as if checking a non-existent watch. “Be there by ten. Alcohol’s on Naitiri tonight, right, doll? Haha, just kidding,” he laughed. “But seriously, if you have drink preferences, bring your own. Don’t come whining about what’s there.” Storm spun dramatically on the table, spotting Eros, Nev, Tallon, and Marco standing behind him. “Oh, hey, Coach,” he stammered, jumping off the table. “If I get one more complaint about you, I’ll call the police myself. Deal with it however you like.” “We’ll be quiet, as always, Coach,” Storm assured him. Eros didn’t believe a word of it. Storm’s antics completely justified his name. As you name the boat, so shall it float. “Sure, I totally believe that,” Eros deadpanned, scanning the team to ensure everyone was present. “I hope you’ve all had a chance to get acquainted. No blood on the walls, so I assume no one’s torn any throats out.” From a folder, he pulled out a stack of personalized dorm access cards that unlocked both the doors and the elevator. He handed them out to the freshmen one by one. When he reached Amor, Eros paused. “You’re taking Mala, Eveline, and Corbin to the dorms,” he instructed, handing Amor his card. “Got it,” Amor agreed without argument. Eveline, who had been examining her dark green card with her name on it, lit up with excitement. Joining the Snakes already felt like the best decision of her life. Krenaria briefly locked eyes with Nev as he re-entered the room. Tilting her head slightly, she silently asked if he was okay before tucking her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and glancing at Mr. Maniae. Nev responded with a reassuring smile and crossed his arms, watching the coach. “And one more thing,” Eros added, his tone firm. “Actually, not a request but a near-order: everyone quits smoking until the first game. Got it? If not, I can repeat myself.” The collective look of indignation was hard to miss on the faces of the Snakes. Darcy didn’t mind much, as he only smoked at parties or when particularly stressed, avoiding the smell in everyday life. However, Storm and Ice nearly collapsed at the ‘request.’ Cain nodded in agreement — it made sense. Smoky lungs wouldn’t survive a match’s intense pace. Amor pretended not to care, acting as if he’d never touched a cigarette in his life. Eveline and Mala remained unfazed. Krenaria frowned slightly, but the logic behind the order was undeniable. Considering the speeds they often reached during games, it was a miracle their lungs held out even for one half. Nev whistled softly, smiling. He’d try, as a responsible captain, but if he failed, he wouldn’t push himself too hard. He glanced at Tallon across the room and raised an eyebrow as if to say, You hear that? Tallon narrowed his eyes and waved him off dismissively. Killian, however, had no intention of quitting. Even if he coughed up his lungs on the field, his smoking habit, ingrained since he was 13, wasn’t going anywhere. As quickly as the grumbling began, it died down. Whether they’d accepted it or simply decided not to argue was unclear. “Quick safety recap: no alcohol in the dorms, no smoking in rooms. Drugs — do I even need to say it? Absolute taboo. Quiet hours start at ten. And please don't get knocked up. If something like that does happen, call me first, and I’ll handle it. Bikers,” he pointed at Tallon, Killian, and Krenaria, “no going over 100. I need you in one piece. No jumping out of windows, no street brawls. Save the adrenaline for the field. And most importantly, be on time for practice. No hangovers, no groggy mornings. You’re athletes. Get into a healthy rhythm. Understood?” Nev tuned out the rest of Eros’s speech — it barely applied to him. Krenaria, however, nodded politely at the coach before exchanging a glance with Killian, barely suppressing a smile. Tallon, who never drove recklessly, especially with Marco as a passenger, nodded without guilt. “Yes, Coach,” the Snakes chorused begrudgingly. At that moment, Naitiri was lost in thought, imagining what the evening would bring. Student parties were unlikely to compare to the events she was used to in New York. None of Eros’s restrictions seemed relevant to her. Eros felt satisfied, though fully aware that his rules would likely be ignored. As long as they stayed alive and could play, he could handle the rest. “You’re dismissed. Head back to the dorms. You can have a drink tonight to celebrate meeting each other. That doesn’t mean blowing the entire dorm sky-high. Nev, I’m counting on you. Amor—”  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Amor interrupted, already hopping off the bench. Eros nodded and left the stadium. Amor pulled his car keys from his pocket and gestured toward Mala, Eveline, and Corbin. “Follow me, kittens.”