For three days, Chase Morgan behaved perfectly, which was suspicious.
He did not approach Amelia.
He did not send Mayra messages asking whether Amelia had changed her mind.
He did not attempt to swat me.
Most importantly, he did not ask her to dinner again.
I began reconsidering my earlier tactical assessment.
Perhaps Amelia had been right.
Perhaps Chase was simply a normal college student who had been rejected, accepted it, and moved on with his life.
A mature human being.
Healthy boundaries.
Personal growth.
I hated it.
Not because I wanted him to become a problem.
Obviously.
That would be ridiculous.
I simply disliked having my concerns disproven.
There is a difference.
Mayra disagreed.
“You want him to do something stupid.” I was sitting on the edge of her laptop while she worked on our Lot 7C spreadsheet.
Amelia sat across the room studying.
I delivered two short buzzes.
No.
Mayra didn’t even look at me.
“Liar.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
“Exactly.” I stared.
That response had made no sense.
She smiled.
“You’ve been watching his social media.” I froze.
Amelia’s page stopped turning.
Traitorous silence filled the room.
I looked toward Mayra.
How did she know?
Mayra finally turned the laptop.
Chase’s public profile filled the screen.
Basketball clips.
Team photos.
Campus events.
An advertisement for a shoe company.
I had not been watching his social media.
Technically.
Mayra had been watching it while I happened to be nearby.
Often.
For tactical reasons.
Amelia looked at me.
Her expression was unbearably calm.
“How often?” I began grooming.
Mayra answered.
“Every time I open it.” I stopped.
False.
Exaggerated.
Possibly.
Amelia sighed.
“Plenteaful.” I flew away.
Conversation over.
Behind me, Mayra laughed.
“He absolutely wants Chase to become a villain.” I did not.
A villain would create work.
I hated work.
What I wanted was confirmation that my initial caution had been justified.
Very different.
Chase, unfortunately, continued being reasonable.
He posted nothing about Amelia.
Made no public comments.
At practice, he appeared normal.
When we crossed him near the student union, he nodded and kept walking.
When Mayra mentioned him, it was usually because other people were talking about basketball.
So I stopped thinking about him.
Mostly.
We had more important problems.
Dr.
Esther Caldwell knew something was wrong with Westbridge’s environmental energy.
Lot 7C had disappeared seven months ago.
ARB was watching East Residence.
A humanoid spirit beast had entered our dorm and left me moth scales.
And I still needed almost ten Evolution Energy for Light-Absorbing Chitin I.
My priorities were clear.
Then Thursday happened.
— I had begun accompanying Amelia to class.
Not inside every classroom.
That was unnecessary risk.
But campus travel gave me practice flying outdoors, learning routes, and identifying safe hiding places.
Also, Amelia occasionally carried small containers of suppressed blood for controlled feeding.
This had absolutely nothing to do with my willingness to accompany her.
Nothing.
That afternoon, Amelia had a lecture in Hawthorne Hall.
Mayra had a class elsewhere.
I waited outside beneath a stone ledge where wind could not easily reach me.
Students moved through the courtyard.
Warm bodies.
Conversation.
Backpacks.
Phones.
Ordinary life.
I watched.
Being small made human social behavior fascinating.
People behaved differently when they believed nobody important could hear them.
From six inches above a bench, I had learned more about several students’ relationships than their partners probably knew.
Humans were terrible at secrecy.
Which was ironic considering I was currently hiding the fact that I was a dead twenty-five-year-old man inhabiting a genetically evolving mosquito body.
Nobody’s perfect.
The lecture ended.
Students poured through the doors.
Amelia appeared among them.
Easy to find.
Not because of supernatural senses.
Because people unconsciously made space around her.
Some looked.
Some whispered.
A few men straightened when she passed.
Amelia noticed none of it.
Or pretended not to.
She walked toward the courtyard.
I left the ledge.
Dropped quietly toward her.
Then stopped.
Chase Morgan stood ahead.
Not alone.
Four teammates.
Several other students nearby.
Sam stood near a planter holding a phone mounted on a small stabilizer.
He was filming something.
Campus promotional footage, probably.
Mayra had mentioned he occasionally helped the plant-sciences department with social media.
Chase saw Amelia.
His face brightened.
Not good.
I hovered farther back.
Observe.
Do not assume hostility.
Amelia continued walking.
Chase stepped toward her.
“Hey, Amelia.” She stopped.
“Hello.” Polite.
Neutral.
His teammates became suspiciously quiet.
I did not like that.
Chase appeared to notice too.
He glanced back.
“Don’t.” One guy smiled.
“We didn’t say anything.” Exactly the sort of sentence people said before becoming annoying.
Chase turned back to Amelia.
“Can I ask you something?” I moved closer.
Amelia’s gaze flicked toward me for half a second.
She knew I was there.
“Yes.” Chase put both hands into his jacket pockets.
For a moment, he looked genuinely nervous.
Interesting.
Not confident.
Not entitled.
Nervous.
That softened my assessment by approximately one percent.
“There’s a party Saturday.” Mayra had mentioned it.
Some athletics fundraiser after-event at an off-campus house owned by somebody whose parents had too much money.
Chase continued.
“Nothing crazy.” One teammate coughed.
Chase looked back.
“I mean it.” The guy raised his hands.
“Didn’t say anything.” Chase returned to Amelia.
“Private thing.
Team, some friends, a few people from campus.” Amelia already knew where this was going.
So did I.
Chase smiled.
“I thought maybe you’d want to come.” Not technically a date.
But date-adjacent.
Amelia answered immediately.
“No, thank you.” Clear.
Polite.
Done.
Chase’s smile faltered.
Only slightly.
“Okay.” Good.
Leave.
Then one of his teammates said: “Damn, man.” Everything went wrong.
Chase’s shoulders stiffened.
Another guy laughed.
Not maliciously.
Not at Amelia.
At Chase.
“Three for three.” A few nearby students looked over.
Chase’s face changed.
Embarrassment.
Tiny.
But visible.
The courtyard suddenly contained an audience.
That mattered.
If he’d asked privately, rejection belonged to two people.
Now it belonged to everyone watching.
Sam’s phone was still recording from twenty feet away.
Probably not intentionally focused on them.
But close enough.
Chase glanced around.
Saw the attention.
Then looked back at Amelia.
Something in his posture shifted.
Not anger.
Pride trying to recover.
“You’re sure?” There.
Second ask.
My wings tightened.
Amelia’s expression did not change.
“Yes.” Another teammate murmured: “Bro, abort.” Several people laughed.
Chase heard.
His jaw tightened.
I moved closer.
Not attacking.
Just ready.
Amelia remained calm.
“Thank you for inviting me.” That should have given him an exit.
A gracious one.
He could laugh.
Walk away.
Blame his friends.
Move on.
For one second, I thought he would.
Then Chase smiled.
Not the relaxed smile from before.
A public smile.
The kind humans wore when they were trying to pretend something did not hurt.
“Right.” He looked toward his teammates.
“Apparently I’m not mysterious enough.” More laughter.
One guy said: “Maybe get reincarnated as a mosquito.” My entire body froze.
Coincidence.
Obviously.
Mayra’s pet-mosquito nonsense had spread through casual conversation.
Nothing more.
Still— I disliked the joke.
Chase looked toward Amelia’s shoulder.
I wasn’t there.
Hidden several feet away.
He laughed weakly.
“Guess I’ve got competition.” Amelia’s face cooled.
Not because of romance.
Because she hated being made into part of a joke after giving a direct answer.
I knew that expression.
Chase apparently didn’t.
He added: “I’m kidding.” Amelia spoke quietly.
“I know.” That was worse than anger.
He stopped smiling.
Amelia continued.
“I said no.” Simple.
No insult.
No humiliation.
No lecture.
Just boundary.
Chase’s friends went silent.
The nearby students did too.
For the first time, Chase looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“I heard you.” Amelia held his gaze.
“Good.” Then she walked away.
No dramatic exit.
No icy aura.
No supernatural threat.
She simply left.
I followed.
Behind us, silence lasted approximately three seconds.
Then one teammate said: “Jesus.” Another: “That was brutal.” It hadn’t been.
That was the problem.
Amelia had done nothing cruel.
But public embarrassment did not care about fairness.
Chase snapped: “Shut up.” His voice was sharper than I’d heard before.
Someone laughed again.
“Relax, man.” “I said shut up.” There.
First crack.
I slowed.
Amelia kept walking.
I looked back.
Chase’s face was red.
Not heartbreak.
Humiliation.
He noticed several students staring.
Then Sam lowered his phone.
Too late.
The clip existed.
I had a very bad feeling.
— Amelia walked three buildings before I caught up.
I landed on her shoulder.
She did not acknowledge me.
That was unusual.
I waited.
No response.
Then I gave one low buzz.
Yes?
Not official meaning.
More: You okay?
She understood anyway.
“I’m fine.” Lie.
Not severe.
But lie.
Her pace remained steady.
I moved closer to her neck.
She glanced sideways.
“I am not upset because he asked.” I knew.
“He was polite.” Mostly.
“His friends were immature.” Definitely.
“That is not my problem.” True.
She kept walking.
Then added: “I dislike being made into a spectacle.” That was the real wound.
Small.
But real.
Amelia Vaelora had once ruled an empire.
Crowds had probably watched her execute treaties, command armies, pass judgment.
Yet modern public attention— phones, whispers, jokes— seemed to irritate her in a different way.
Maybe because imperial attention had rules.
This did not.
I buzzed once.
Understood.
Amelia’s shoulder relaxed slightly.
Then she looked at me.
“Do not do anything.” I froze.
I had not proposed anything.
Yet.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I know that posture.” What posture?
I was sitting.
“Your front legs are rubbing.” I looked down.
Damn.
I stopped.
“A bruised ego is not a declaration of war.” There it was.
Emperor law.
Boring.
Reasonable.
I gave one buzz.
Fine.
“No venom.” Obviously.
“No biting.” Fine.
“No flying into his nose.” Why did she keep mentioning that?
The idea was becoming more attractive through repetition.
I buzzed once.
“Plenteaful.” One buzz.
Promise.
She studied me.
Then nodded.
“Good.” I had agreed.
I would keep the agreement.
I was mature now.
Responsible.
Evolution had taught restraint.
Nothing would happen.
Probably.
— By dinner, the video had twelve thousand views.
Mayra burst through the dorm door.
“Sam is an idiot.” Sam, apparently, was currently hiding from both women.
Mayra held up her phone.
A short video filled the screen.
Campus courtyard.
Students walking.
Plants in the foreground.
Then Chase’s voice: There’s a party Saturday…
thought maybe you’d want to come.
The camera had not been aimed at them initially.
Then Sam had noticed the exchange.
The framing shifted slightly.
Not zooming much.
But enough.
Amelia: No, thank you.
Chase: You’re sure?
Amelia: Yes.
Then the teammate: Bro, abort.
Laughter.
Chase making the mosquito joke.
Then: I said no.
Yeah.
I heard you.
Good.
Clip ended.
Mayra stared at the screen.
“He posted it because he thought the ending was funny.” Amelia’s expression was cold.
“Why?” “Because Sam has the judgment of a golden retriever.” Fair.
Mayra continued.
“He deleted it after twenty minutes.” Too late.
“Somebody downloaded it.” “Then another campus account reposted it.” Of course.
“Then athletics people started sharing it.” Naturally.
I watched the clip.
Nothing terrible.
No one looked evil.
Amelia looked calm.
Chase looked embarrassed.
His friends looked childish.
Yet captions had already transformed the situation.
CHASING THE ICE QUEEN AND GETTING FROZEN Terrible.
Another: WHEN SHE LIKES HER PET MOSQUITO MORE THAN YOU I stopped.
Mayra saw.
“Don’t.” I rubbed my front legs together.
She pointed.
“No.” Amelia looked at me.
Two against one.
Unfair.
Mayra scrolled.
Most comments were jokes.
Some sympathetic to Chase.
Some praising Amelia.
Some criticizing her.
Could’ve let him down nicer.
She had.
Girl thinks she’s royalty.
Technically— No.
Do not.
She’s always been stuck-up.
Mayra’s face hardened.
“People are stupid.” One buzz.
Yes.
Then a comment from someone on the basketball team: Chase needs to retire before he goes 0-4.
Thousands of likes.
That one mattered.
Not because it attacked Amelia.
Because it turned Chase’s embarrassment into an ongoing public joke.
Mayra sighed.
“This is going to get worse before it gets better.” Amelia took the phone.
Watched the video once.
Then gave it back.
“I don’t care.” Lie.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
Her eyes warned: Do not.
I began grooming.
Mayra noticed.
“He’s plotting.” “I know.” I buzzed two.
No.
“You’re both terrible liars.” Again.
— Chase did not post anything that evening.
Good.
He did not insult Amelia publicly.
Good.
He did not message her.
Good.
Instead, he posted a basketball-training clip.
Normal.
Acting unaffected.
Probably wise.
Then his friends continued.
Comments.
Memes.
Jokes.
One edited Amelia’s face onto an iceberg.
Another put Chase in a tiny mosquito costume.
I hated that one on artistic grounds.
Mayra laughed for almost thirty seconds.
Traitor.
Amelia did not.
But her mouth twitched once.
I saw it.
Maybe not all bad.
Then around ten at night, Chase replied to one friend: Y’all act like I care that much lol Normal defensive response.
Then: Some people just like attention.
Mayra stopped laughing.
Amelia read it.
Said nothing.
The sentence was ambiguous.
Could refer to his friends.
Could refer to Amelia.
Comments immediately decided it meant Amelia.
Another reply: Bro she embarrassed you in front of everybody.
Chase: She knew exactly what she was doing.
Not accusation exactly.
Rationalization.
The rejection had become something done to him.
Instead of something Amelia had done for herself.
My front legs rubbed.
Amelia saw.
“No.” I buzzed.
He was blaming her.
“He is embarrassed.” Still.
“He will calm down.” Maybe.
“And if he doesn’t?” I pointed at the phone.
Amelia looked at the comment.
Then at me.
“If he crosses a line, we respond to what he actually does.” Reasonable.
Hate it.
“Not what you imagine he might do.” Fine.
Mayra crossed her arms.
“I vote mosquito harassment.” Amelia slowly turned.
Mayra raised both hands.
“Kidding.” I stared at Mayra.
She stared back.
Something passed between us.
A terrible idea.
Amelia noticed instantly.
“No.” Nobody had spoken.
This was becoming supernatural.
“Both of you.” Mayra looked innocent.
I cleaned one antenna.
Amelia pointed at me.
“Especially you.” I gave one buzz.
Promise.
Mostly.
— That night, Amelia cultivated.
Lightly.
The dorm anomaly remained suppressed.
ARB sensor green.
No vent activity.
I rested near the edge of her aura.
My thoughts refused to settle.
Not because Chase had asked her out.
I maintained this.
Because his pride was turning outward.
Small comments.
Nothing worth retaliation.
Yet.
Amelia was right.
A bruised ego was not war.
I knew war now, indirectly.
Amelia’s memories.
The basement creature.
ARB.
Real danger.
Chase Morgan was a college student embarrassed by his friends.
Nothing more.
I would leave him alone.
Completely.
Absolutely.
Then my Codex displayed my available trait.
— LIGHT-ABSORBING CHITIN I Integration cost: 10 Evolution Energy — Current balance: 0.22.
I sighed internally.
Still poor.
Maybe I could focus on energy acquisition instead.
Useful work.
Evolution.
Responsible priorities.
Then a notification from Mayra’s phone lit the room.
She was asleep.
Screen preview: WESTBRIDGE HOOPS LIVE — Tomorrow 4 PM.
Open practice stream.
Basketball.
Chase.
Public livestream.
My compound eyes rested on the notification.
No.
I looked away.
A bruised ego was not a declaration of war.
Amelia inhaled.
Cold flowed.
I focused on training.
Thirty seconds.
Then I looked at the phone again.
Open practice.
Live camera.
No.
Absolutely not.
I was better than this.
I had evolved.
Matured.
Learned restraint.
I rubbed my front legs together.
Across the room, Amelia opened one eye.
“Plenteaful.” I froze.
“What are you thinking?” Nothing.
I began grooming.
Her eye narrowed.
“That is not reassuring.” I gave one low buzz.
Good night.
Then retreated toward my enclosure.
Very calmly.
With dignity.
I had made a promise.
No biting.
No poisoning.
No injury.
And I intended to keep every word.
Every.
Single.
Word.