100 Failed Dates

Chapter 1: One Hundred Mornings

The sun hadn’t even cleared the horizon when the first note hit. It was a sharp, piercing trill from a blue-winged warbler perched on the windowsill—the exact same C-sharp it had hit for the last ninety-nine mornings.

Chronis didn't groan. He didn't toss his pillow. He simply opened his eyes, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling of his dormitory.

"Yeah, yeah. Morning to you too, you feathered alarm clock," Chronis muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He didn't wait for his eyes to adjust. He knew the layout of the room better than the back of his hand; he knew it by heart, by soul, and by sheer, agonizing repetition. He reached out, grabbing his tunic from the chair three seconds before the wind would have blown it onto the floor.

"Three, two, one..." he counted under his breath.

Thump.

A heavy boot hit the door from the hallway.

"Yo, Chronis! You awake, man? Big day! Don't tell me you're still dreaming about passing the Mid-Term Trials!"

Chronis pulled his boots on, tying the laces with lightning speed. "I'm up, Lucan. And don't bother with the bucket. I’m already by the door."

There was a confused silence from the other side. Chronis could practically hear Lucan’s brain gears grinding.

"The... bucket?" Lucan’s voice sounded muffled. "What bucket? I was just gonna... you know, say hi."

"The bucket of freezing spring water perched precariously on the top of the doorframe," Chronis said, his hand hovering over the latch. "The one you spent twenty minutes setting up while trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl."

"I do not giggle like a— wait, how the hell do you know about that?" Lucan blurted out.

Chronis smirked, yanking the door open. Lucan stumbled back, clutching a half-empty pail of water, his face a mask of utter bewilderment.

"Magic," Chronis said, patting Lucan on the shoulder as he stepped into the hallway. "Or maybe I'm just psychic. Either way, you’re getting slow, buddy."

"Slow? I was stealthy as a cat!" Lucan protested, following him down the hall. "Seriously, did someone snitch? Was it Elara? I bet it was Elara."

"Nobody snitched, Lucan. You’re just predictable. Every. Single. Morning."

"Predictable? I changed the water temperature today! Added ice charms and everything!"

Chronis chuckled, navigating the stairs without looking down. "Next time, try a different floor. Or maybe just don't do it at all? Just a thought."

"And miss the look on your face? No way," Lucan said, then paused, jogging to keep up. "Hey, where are you going anyway? Breakfast isn't for another hour."

"Got an errand," Chronis said, his pace quickening. "A very specific, time-sensitive errand."

"Is this about Mirelle? It's about Mirelle, isn't it? Dude, you’ve been trying to get her attention since the Academy entrance ceremony. Give it a rest."

Chronis stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face his friend. "Lucan, trust me. Today is different."

"That’s what you said yesterday. And the day before. And, like, last Tuesday."

"Today," Chronis emphasized, pointing a finger at Lucan’s chest, "is the day I actually get the flowers before that meathead Adrian Westfall buys out the whole shop."

Lucan rolled his eyes. "The Azure Lilies? Man, those things sell out in five minutes. You’d have to be at the gates before the sun is even up to—"

"I’m already late," Chronis cut him off, spinning on his heel. "See you at the gates!"

"Wait! You didn't even grab a piece of toast! You’re gonna faint during combat practice!" Lucan yelled after him.

Chronis didn't look back. He sprinted through the courtyard, his feet hitting the cobblestones in a rhythm he had perfected over a hundred loops. He knew exactly which stone was loose, which corner had a puddle, and which shortcut through the herb garden would save him exactly forty-two seconds.

He reached the "Petals & Potions" shop just as the owner, an elderly man named Silas, was unlatching the shutters.

"Morning, Silas," Chronis panted, though he wasn't actually out of breath.

Silas blinked, startled. "Whoa there, lad! I haven't even got the kettle on. We aren't open for another ten minutes."

"I know. But you have the Azure Lilies in the back, right? The ones delivered from the valley this morning?"

Silas scratched his chin, looking suspicious. "How’d you know the delivery came early? The wagon just pulled in the back alley five minutes ago."

"Lucky guess," Chronis said, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a handful of silver coins. "I want the best bunch. The ones with the silver dew still on the petals. Don't even put them on the display shelf."

Silas looked at the coins, then back at Chronis. "You’re a determined one, aren't you? Most boys your age are still snoring."

"Time is of the essence, Silas. Can I get them or not?"

"Alright, alright, keep your shirt on," the old man grumbled, disappearing into the back of the shop. He returned a moment later holding a bouquet of shimmering, deep-blue lilies that seemed to glow with a soft, inner light. "Here. Cost you extra for the early bird service."

"Keep the change," Chronis said, snatching the flowers. "And Silas? Watch out for the delivery crate by the door. The bottom’s about to give out."

"What? My crates are—"

CRACK.

The sound of splintering wood echoed from the back of the shop, followed by the sound of glass vials shattering.

"Son of a—! How did you—?" Silas started, but Chronis was already halfway down the street.

"Thanks, Silas! See you tomorrow! Or, well, hopefully not!" Chronis shouted over his shoulder.

He checked the clock tower. Seven-fifteen. He was ahead of schedule. On loop sixty-four, he’d missed the flowers by thirty seconds. On loop eighty-two, he’d tripped over a stray cat and crushed them. Today, everything was perfect.

He made his way toward the Academy’s main archway. The air was crisp, smelling of damp earth and magic. Students were beginning to filter out of the dorms, their robes fluttering in the breeze. And there, standing near the fountain, was Mirelle.

Her golden hair was tied back in a practical braid, and she was buried in a thick leather-bound tome, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looked exactly the same as she did every morning, yet to Chronis, the sight never got old.

"Okay," Chronis whispered to himself, smoothing his hair. "Just walk up, give her the flowers, and tell her... tell her the truth. Or at least a version of it."

He started toward her, his heart hammering—a sensation that even a hundred loops couldn't dampen.

"Mirelle!" he called out, his voice steady.

She looked up, blinking. A small, polite smile formed on her lips. "Oh, hello, Chronis. You’re early today. Is everything alright?"

"Better than alright," he said, holding out the Azure Lilies. "I saw these and thought of you. I know you were complaining about the lack of alchemical reagents for your thesis, and these are the freshest batch in the city."

Mirelle’s eyes widened. She took a step forward, her gaze fixed on the glowing petals. "Azure Lilies? Chronis, these are incredibly rare this time of year! How did you—"

"I have my ways," he said, feeling a surge of triumph. "I just wanted to say—"

SCREECH!

The sound of grinding metal and panicked horses cut through the morning air. Everyone turned toward the main road. A heavy, ornate carriage—marked with the crest of the Royal Mage Council—was careening out of control. The horses were wild-eyed, their manes sparking with runaway lightning magic.

"Get out of the way!" someone screamed.

The carriage was headed straight for a group of freshmen standing near the gate.

"Chronis!" Mirelle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Chronis cursed under his breath. The carriage. He’d forgotten about the carriage. It didn't happen every loop—only when the Royal Council arrived early for the inspection.

"Stay here," Chronis said, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't let those kids get trampled, even if it meant delaying his moment with Mirelle. He dropped the flowers into her hands and bolted toward the road.

"Hey! Clear the path!" Chronis roared, his voice amplified by a quick burst of mana.

The freshmen scattered just as the carriage slammed into a stone pillar, its wheels spinning uselessly in the air as the lightning-crazed horses kicked at the debris. Chronis dove, rolling across the pavement to pull a lagging student out of the way of a flying piece of wood.

The dust settled. The horses were eventually calmed by the Academy guards, and the chaos began to subside into a frantic buzz of conversation.

Chronis stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees. He turned back toward the fountain, looking for Mirelle. She was still there, clutching the lilies, looking at him with an expression of genuine awe.

"That was... incredible," she whispered as he approached. "You moved before the horses even bolted. How did you know?"

"I've got good reflexes," Chronis said, offering a lopsided grin. "Now, where were we? I believe I was trying to impress you."

Mirelle laughed, a light, melodic sound that made the last ninety-nine failures worth it. "I think you succeeded, Chronis. These are beautiful. Thank you."

"So, maybe we could grab some tea after classes? I know a place that—"

Chronis stopped. The air around him suddenly felt heavy, charged with a different kind of magic—something cold and oppressive.

A shadow fell over him.

"Impressive display, Chronis," a smooth, arrogant voice drawled. "Truly. I didn't know a commoner like you had such... heroic instincts."

Chronis felt his blood run cold. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Standing in his path was a tall, silver-haired student wearing the prestigious gold-trimmed robes of the elite class. His eyes were like chips of ice, and on his right hand, he wore a gleaming, runed gauntlet that pulsed with a dull, rhythmic light.

Adrian Westfall.

"Adrian," Chronis said, his voice dropping an octave. "You're late. Usually, you’re already at the training grounds by now."

Adrian stepped closer, his presence pushing Mirelle back a step. He raised his gauntlet, the metal hissing as it tightened around his fist.

"I decided to take a different route today," Adrian said, his smile not reaching his eyes. "I heard someone was making a scene. And I see you've bought the flowers I specifically reserved at Silas's shop."

"I paid for them, Adrian. First come, first served," Chronis snapped.

Adrian let out a short, dry laugh. "Is that how it works? I was under the impression that certain things belong to those who can actually defend them."

He stepped forward, the gauntlet glowing a fierce, angry red. He slammed the metal fist into his open palm, creating a shockwave that made the nearby fountain spray water into the air.

"Chronis, maybe you should just go," Mirelle whispered, her face pale. "He’s in a mood."

Chronis looked at the gauntlet, then at Adrian’s smug face. He had lived this day a hundred times, but this... this was new. Adrian had never intercepted him here. The timing was off. The loop was changing.

"You want the flowers, Adrian?" Chronis asked, his hand drifting toward the practice wand at his belt. "Or do you just want to remind everyone how much of a prick you are?"

Adrian’s eyes flashed with genuine rage. He raised the gauntlet, pointing it directly at Chronis’s chest.

"I think," Adrian said, his voice a low growl, "I’ll just take them. And maybe I'll take that arrogant look off your face while I'm at it. Step aside, or I’ll make sure you spend the rest of this 'big day' in the infirmary."

Chronis didn't move. He felt a strange thrill—a spark of something that wasn't boredom or fatigue. For the first time in a hundred days, he didn't know exactly what was going to happen next.

"Give it your best shot, Westfall," Chronis said, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "I've got all the time in the world."