?

  Mira stood by the door of the dorm lounge, tapping her fingers on the magazine in her hand, waiting for Adrian to walk in. She had been meaning to drop this off earlier, but the moment had slipped away. Now, there was no avoiding it.

  Adrian entered, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he walked toward her, his gaze flicking toward the magazine she was holding.

  Mira tossed it to him, letting it land with a soft thud on the coffee table between them.

  “Here,” she said with mock indifference, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her mood. “Your shiny new cover. First edition. Don’t thank me.”

  Adrian’s fingers brushed over the smooth, glossy cover, the bold text at the top catching his eye: The Brightest Minds of the Future: A New Generation of Scholars.

  Beneath it, their names, Adrian Vale and Mira Larkspur, stood out in bold, crisp font.

  For a moment, Adrian just stared at it. The photograph was striking, capturing both of them in a way he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just a stiff, posed shot; it was a candid moment, something more authentic.

  His usual stoic expression softened, almost imperceptibly, as he looked at Mira in the shot, her smile soft and genuine, and his own posture was more relaxed than he’d ever allowed himself to be in front of a camera.

  Mira blinked. “Wait, did we pose like this?”

  Adrian leaned in beside her, his tone even. “I don’t remember us posing like this.”

  She squinted at the image. Her smile was effortless. His expression, unusually open.

  “This must’ve been when we weren’t paying attention.”

  She flipped a few pages forward. “Honestly, though, this looks more convincing than anything we tried to pose for. I mean, maybe your usual expression scared them off.”

  “Scared who?”

  “The editorial team. They probably looked at your serious face and thought you were about to shut down the entire publication.”

  She didn’t expect him to chuckle, but he did. Just briefly. She could almost see him trying not to.

  Mira settled back, turning to the text and skimming quickly. “Huh. They actually kept it all. No strange rewording, no ‘Mira smiles mysteriously’ or whatever.”

  “They didn’t dare,” Adrian replied, reaching casually for the folded version of the same issue beside him. “Written clarification clause.”

  Her jaw dropped slightly. “You made them send you a draft?”

  “I made them send me five.”

  “You… are terrifying.”

  “Professionally,” he said. “Mostly.”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh and flipped to the solo portraits, tapping a finger on his page. Adrian stood alone in the lab, the lighting focused behind him, giving him the solemn air of a scientist caught in thought. It was well-composed. Strong. But it made her smirk.

  “So this is Tremella fuciformis in its natural habitat?” she teased. “In deep research mode, radiating the aura of a man who’s about to write a thesis on fungal diplomacy?”

  Adrian didn’t even blink. “Do you want to start this again?

  She grinned without restraint, and for a moment, the polished magazine cover felt more like a behind-the-scenes blooper than an official feature.

  ?

  The coffee table was cluttered, notes, half-eaten snacks, and someone’s water bottle tipped sideways but miraculously not leaking. Luca walked in first, holding a glossy magazine like he’d just pulled it out of a fire.

  “Okay,” he announced, waving it in the air. “Which one of you didn’t tell us Mira freaking Larkspur is on the cover of Insight Profiles?”

  Everyone turned. Elara grabbed it first. Her jaw dropped.

  “Is this photoshopped?” she blurted. “No way that’s Adrian Vale smiling. And Mira’s… what is this lighting?!”

  Valeria leaned over, blinking hard.

  “I thought she had class all day. What, how did she not say anything?”

  Elias snorted. “Because it’s Mira. She probably thought it wasn’t important.”

  “Wait, wait, ” Luca squinted, flipping to the article. “Oh. My. God. This is a full spread. Look at these quotes! Look at this layout! Look at their faces, why does this feel like the cover of a drama poster?”

  Camille, sitting cross-legged by the window, was too focused.

  Elara turned on her. “You knew.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Camille shrugged, guilty, but smug.

  “I might’ve been sworn to secrecy. National diplomacy level, obviously.”

  The room exploded.

  “CAMI, ”

  “You let us walk around campus like we didn’t know our girl is out here being a full public figure?”

  “I need to re-evaluate my understanding of friendship.”

  Just then, the lounge door creaked open. Mira stepped in, clutching a bag of snacks from the vending machine. She spotted the magazine on the table, and froze.

  “…Oh no.”

  “OH YES,” Luca declared, waving it like a flag of betrayal. “Explain. Now.”

  “Why is Adrian Vale smiling at you like that?” Elara demanded. “Like you just cured international conflict with eye contact.”

  Mira, half-pouting, half-defeated, flopped into the beanbag beside Camille.

  “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

  Naomi gestured wildly. “This is iconic. And also, what is with the quote about the mushroom diplomacy?”

  Mira covered her face with both hands. “Don’t start.”

  Elias leaned back, clearly amused. “Too late. Your cover story is officially campus canon.”

  Valeria plopped down on the armrest beside Mira, flipping the magazine so the quote was front and center.

  “‘If I were a plant, I’d be a mushroom. Probably Tremella fuciformis.’” She snorted. “What does that even mean?”

  “Ask Adrian,” Mira muttered into her sleeve. “It was his answer.”

  Luca gasped, loud and theatrical. “Wait, his answer? But they quoted you right after! ‘The mimosa might be too obvious. But it closes up easily, so maybe that fits.’”

  Camille’s eyes lit up. “So... Tremella and Mimosa?”

  Naomi’s mouth fell open. “Is that your ship name now? Trémimosa?”

  “Absolutely not,” Mira said, bolting upright. “I will actually move out.”

  Luca looked delighted. “Embarrassment? Mira, this is legacy material. People will whisper about this in the hallways. There will be memes.”

  The laughter kept rolling, bouncing off the walls of the dorm lounge like it had no plans of stopping. Mira, buried halfway in the beanbag, let them have their fun, for about five more seconds.

  Then she sat up, pulled the magazine out of Luca’s hands, folded it in half with precise, exaggerated calm, and said,

  “If anyone says Trémimosa one more time, I’m assigning each of you a twenty-page policy paper on the role of mycelium in global agriculture.”

  A beat of silence followed. Genuine fear flickered in Elias’s eyes.

  Camille arched a brow. “Double-spaced?”

  “Single,” Mira replied. “APA style.”

  The room erupted in groans and dramatic collapses. Naomi slid off her chair in protest. Valeria mimed being stabbed in the chest. Elara, whispering “She’s unhinged,” earned a glare and a pointed finger.

  “And you,” Mira said, turning her glare on Luca. “Any memes go public and I’m switching your coffee to decaf.”

  Luca clutched his chest. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  Finally, Camille nudged Mira’s arm. “Truce?”

  Mira exhaled, shoulders relaxing, a tiny smirk breaking through. “Truce.”

  And with that, the page turned, metaphorically and literally, as she tossed the magazine onto the coffee table, leans back, and let her friends move on… for now.

  ?

  The recent issue of the university’s student magazine, featuring Adrian Vale on the cover alongside Mira, quickly turned into an unexpected sensation. Adrian, heir to the Vale dynasty, was known worldwide for his family’s dominance in the fields of medicine and science, but his public appearances were rare.

  To see him featured in a casual, seemingly unplanned moment with a fellow student sent shockwaves through the university and beyond. The magazine, originally intended to showcase campus activities, became a viral success, quickly selling out its print run and gaining far more attention than anyone anticipated.

  The success of the magazine was far beyond what the university’s PR team had expected. The hard copy edition, initially printed in 5,000 copies, sold out within hours, and the university quickly had to print more to meet the demand.

  The digital version, however, achieved an even more spectacular reach, spreading across social media platforms and being shared thousands of times. Within a few days, the magazine was circulating beyond the university’s immediate community, drawing the attention of alumni, media outlets, and even international audiences.

  Students were fascinated by the sight of someone as accomplished as Adrian Vale in a seemingly more approachable setting, standing alongside Mira, who embodied the more relatable side of university life.

  The magazine had not only promoted a student activity, it had inadvertently showcased the university as an institution that attracts exceptional individuals and fosters unexpected connections.

  Even those who might never have paid attention to a student magazine before were now engaging with it, creating buzz both on campus and online. The magazine became a symbol of the university’s ability to bridge the gap between academia and the wider world.

  ?

  Vermillion Crown Academy – Office of Communications, Morning Meeting Room.

  A stack of half-opened envelopes lay scattered across the table, beside a glowing tablet screen displaying the cover of Vermillion Voices: Spring Edition, Mira and Adrian, mid-laugh, caught in an impossibly candid, too-perfect frame.

  Ms. Collins adjusted her glasses with a sigh, tapping the screen with one finger. “Five thousand hard copies. Gone in 24 hours. Not just students, faculty, alumni, even rival schools are asking for it.”

  Mr. Taylor, sleeves rolled up, leaned back in his chair with a barely concealed grin. “Honestly? I knew that shot was gold the moment I took it. But I didn’t think we’d crash the download servers overnight.”

  Professor Ikeda, ever the composed academic advisor, raised an eyebrow. “Adrian Vale doesn’t just smile in photos. He exists. That alone would’ve caught attention. But pair him with Mira, and you have a visual narrative that feels… genuine. Human.”

  Ms. Collins clicked through a spreadsheet. “The e-version has been shared over 50,000 times across platforms. Hashtags trending in languages I can’t even read. We’ve received inquiries from international media asking to feature the cover.”

  “Should we go to print again?” Mr. Taylor asked.

  Collins didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood, walking to the whiteboard. “We underestimated the public's appetite for Adrian Vale, not as the Vale heir, but as a person. This cover cracked that fa?ade. And Mira... she wasn’t supposed to be the story, but now she’s part of it.”

  Professor Ikeda nodded slowly. “We must tread carefully. If we push too hard, it feels like exploitation. But ignoring it would be worse. This moment is organic, and the students have claimed it as their own.”

  Collins tapped her marker on the board. “I’ll inform the principal, but the decision to reprint stays here. We double the run, maybe triple. Keep it exclusive but available. Let the demand breathe.”

  Mr. Taylor grinned. “And maybe next time, let me plan the viral moment.”

  She shot him a look over her glasses. “If you had planned it, it would’ve never felt real.”

  They all chuckled, the tension diffused but the excitement lingering in the room.

  This wasn’t just a PR win.

  It was a phenomenon.

  “The Tremella Fuciformis Frenzy”

  ?