16/08/2026
The hallway outside Harris Hall at the University of Texas at Austin was louder than usual that Tuesday afternoon.
Backpacks scraped against lockers. Sneakers squeaked on polished floors. Someone laughed too hard at a joke that wasn’t funny. Midterms were a week away, and stress had a way of turning ordinary college kids into something sharper, uglier.
Ethan Cole felt it before it happened.
That familiar tightening in his chest. The instinct to keep his head down. To walk faster. To disappear into the flow of students moving toward the parking garage.
He didn’t.
“Hey, library boy.”
The voice came from behind him—confident, loud, practiced. Ethan knew the tone. Everyone did.
He stopped.
A hand shoved his shoulder. Not hard enough to draw attention, just enough to make a point. His books slipped from his arms and crashed onto the floor. A notebook skidded under a bench. His backpack followed, spilling loose papers across the hallway like snow.
Laughter exploded around him.
Five guys stood there. All wearing varsity jackets. All taller. Louder. Comfortable in their dominance. The kind of students whose parents donated buildings, whose futures were already lined up with corporate internships in Dallas, Houston, and New York City.
“Careful, man,” one of them said, laughing. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your philosophy class.”
Another nudged him with a shoe. “Pick it up. That’s what quiet guys are good at.”
Ethan knelt down slowly.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t glare. He just reached for his books, his brown hair falling forward as he bent.
That’s when it happened.
His collar shifted.
Just an inch.
Enough.
The laughter stopped.
At first, no one spoke. The hallway noise seemed to fade, as if the building itself had leaned in to look.
On the left side of Ethan’s neck, partially hidden under the collar of his plain gray hoodie, was a tattoo.
A dragon.
Not the cartoon kind. Not decorative.
This dragon was coiled tight, detailed down to individual scales. Its eyes weren’t wild—they were disciplined. Controlled. The kind of eyes that didn’t need to threaten.
The kind that promised consequences without saying a word.
One of the guys swallowed hard.
“Dude…” he muttered.
Another took a step back without realizing he was doing it.
That tattoo wasn’t random.
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