100 Failed Dates

Chapter 3: The Prankster’s Gambit

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

Chronis didn’t wait. He didn't stare at the ceiling. He sat bolt upright, his feet hitting the floor before the bird could even draw a second breath.

"Yeah, yeah. New day, new me. Let's get this over with," he muttered, reaching for his tunic.

Thump.

"Yo, Chronis! You awake, man? Big day! Don't tell me—"

"The bucket is on the left side of the frame today, Lucan. I'm already dressed. Don't trip on the rug when you come in to retrieve it," Chronis called out, his voice flat.

There was a long silence, then the sound of a heavy sigh. "You’re really taking the fun out of this, you know? How do you keep doing that?"

Chronis yanked his door open. Lucan was standing there, holding a pail of ice water, looking genuinely offended.

"I’m a morning person now, Lucan. Deal with it," Chronis said, stepping past him. "Listen, I’m skipping breakfast. If anyone asks, I’m in the basement."

"The basement? The alchemy labs? Since when do you care about brewing potions? You barely passed Basic Transmutation!"

"I’m not brewing potions. I’m recruiting experts," Chronis said over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. "See you at the Mid-Terms!"

"Recruiting? Hey! At least tell me if I should bring snacks!" Lucan yelled, but Chronis was already gone.

The air in the Academy’s basement was thick with the scent of sulfur, dried herbs, and several things that definitely shouldn't have been legal. Chronis navigated the labyrinthine hallways until he reached Lab 4-B. He kicked the door open without knocking.

Inside, two figures were huddled over a bubbling cauldron that was currently emitting a faint, rhythmic whistling sound.

"Add the powdered dragon-scale, Rowan. Gently! If you dump it, we’re both going to be bald for a month," the smaller of the two, Cedric, hissed.

"I am being gentle, Ced. My hands are like silk," Rowan grunted, his massive frame looking absurdly out of place next to the delicate glass vials.

"Silk that can crush a skull," Cedric retorted. "Now, just a pinch—"

"Don't add the scale yet," Chronis interrupted, leaning against the doorframe. "The temperature is three degrees too low. You’ll just get a sludge that smells like wet dog."

Both boys jumped. Cedric nearly dropped a glass jar, while Rowan instinctively raised a heavy stirring rod like a club.

"Chronis? What are you doing down here?" Cedric asked, squinting through his soot-stained goggles. "And how do you know the temperature? You’re a combat major."

"I’ve seen you fail this specific brew twelve times, Cedric. Or, well, let’s just say I have a feeling," Chronis replied.

"Twelve times? We only started this project yesterday!"

"Details. I’m here because I need a favor. A big one."

Cedric swapped his goggles for a pair of cracked spectacles. "A favor? From the guys you usually call 'The Human Fire Hazards'? I’m touched. Truly."

"I need fireworks," Chronis said, stepping into the room. "But not just any fireworks. I need precision. I need them to spell out a name in the sky, in Azure Blue, at exactly ten-fifteen this morning."

Rowan let out a low whistle. "Spell-writing? That’s advanced kinetics, man. That’s a Tier Four enchantment. We’re just third-years."

"You’re the best pyrotechnicians in this school," Chronis said, looking Cedric dead in the eye. "And I know you’ve been smuggling 'Boggart-Blasts' from the black market to spice up the end-of-term party. I won't tell the Headmaster if you help me."

Cedric’s face went pale. "How did you... okay, fine. Who’s the lucky girl? Or is this a 'Happy Birthday' to yourself?"

"It’s for Mirelle," Chronis said.

Rowan started laughing, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the vials on the shelf. "Mirelle? The top student in Alchemy? The girl who thinks 'fun' is a four-letter word? Good luck, buddy. You’re gonna need a miracle, not a firework."

"I’ve tried miracles," Chronis muttered. "Now I’m trying showmanship. Can you do it or not?"

Cedric grinned, his eyes gleaming with a manic energy. "Azure Blue is tricky. We’ll need cobalt salts and a concentrated mana-infusion. Rowan, get the long-range launchers from the locker."

"The ones that kick like a mule?" Rowan asked.

"Those are the ones. Chronis, if we’re doing this, it’s gonna cost you. We need extra reagents for our... personal projects."

"Done. Just make sure the letters are legible. M-I-R-E-L-L-E. Don't mess up the spelling."

"Please," Cedric scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I’m a genius. I could spell it in ancient draconic if I wanted to. Rowan, start the mixing! We’ve got two hours!"

The next two hours were a blur of frantic activity. Chronis watched as the two alchemists worked with a chaotic harmony he hadn't expected. Cedric shouted instructions while Rowan handled the volatile ingredients with surprising grace.

"Okay, the payload is set," Cedric announced, wiping a smudge of blue paste off his cheek. "We’ve got the launchers hidden behind the fountain in the main courtyard. I’ve rigged a remote trigger to this wand fragment."

He handed a small, splintered piece of wood to Chronis.

"One flick of mana, and boom. Eternal love or a very expensive restraining order," Cedric said.

"And you’re sure about the color?" Chronis asked.

"Blue as the summer sky," Rowan promised, giving a thumbs up. "We even added a little glitter-dust. It’ll shimmer."

"Perfect. Ten-fifteen. Don't be late setting up," Chronis said, heading for the door.

"Hey, Chronis!" Cedric called out. "Why the sudden rush? Usually, you’re just moping around the training grounds."

Chronis paused at the door, a shadow of a smile on his face. "I realized that if I’m going to be stuck in the same day forever, I might as well make it a show. See you out there."

The courtyard was buzzing with students as the clock tower neared the ten-fifteen mark. Chronis stood near the archway, his heart thumping against his ribs. This was it. No fighting Adrian, no saving carriages—just a grand, romantic gesture.

He saw Mirelle walking toward the library, her nose buried in a book as usual. She looked peaceful.

"Okay, boys. Give me the signal," Chronis whispered to himself.

He saw Cedric and Rowan crouching behind the stone lip of the fountain, giving him a frantic series of hand signals. Cedric held up three fingers. Two. One.

Chronis snapped his fingers, sending a spark of mana into the wand fragment.

THWUMP.

The sound wasn't the sharp crack of a firework. It was a heavy, wet thud, followed by a whistling sound that sounded suspiciously like a screaming teakettle.

"Uh oh," he heard Cedric yell from the fountain. "Rowan! Which crate did you grab?"

"The one on the left! Like you said!" Rowan shouted back.

"I said my left! Not your left! That was the Boggart-Blast prototype!"

Chronis looked up, his jaw dropping. Instead of elegant blue letters, three massive, bloated projectiles were wobbling through the air. They didn't explode; they hissed, spinning in erratic circles like panicked bees.

"Mirelle, look out!" Chronis shouted, instinctively moving toward her.

Mirelle looked up, her eyes widening as the first projectile reached its apex directly above her head.

"Chronis? What are you—"

POP.

The first Boggart-Blast didn't produce fire. It produced a dense, swirling cloud of neon-pink smoke.

POP. POP.

The other two followed suit, cascading down like a sugary, neon waterfall. Within seconds, the entire center of the courtyard was swallowed by a thick, strawberry-scented fog that was so bright it practically hurt to look at.

"I can't see!" someone screamed.

"Why does it smell like candy?" another voice cried.

Chronis lunged into the pink gloom, waving his arms to clear the air. "Mirelle! Mirelle, are you okay?"

"Chronis?" Her voice sounded muffled, coming from a few feet away.

He stumbled forward, his boots clicking on the stone, until he saw a silhouette through the haze. He reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the edge of the cloud.

As they broke through the edge of the smoke, Chronis stopped. Mirelle was standing there, her white robes now stained with streaks of bright pink powder. Her braid was covered in shimmering glitter, and a single, pink bubble was floating near her nose.

She looked like she had been attacked by a dessert.

Behind them, Cedric and Rowan were sprinting away toward the dorms, Cedric’s laughter echoing across the grounds.

"That... was not blue," Chronis whispered, his face burning with a heat that had nothing to do with magic.

Mirelle wiped a layer of pink dust from her forehead, staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. She took a deep breath, and a small puff of pink smoke escaped her lips.

"Chronis," she said, her voice dangerously calm.

"I can explain," he started, backing away. "There were supposed to be letters. Azure Lilies... I mean, Azure Blue letters. It was meant to be... aesthetic."

Mirelle looked down at her ruined book, then back at him. The pink smoke continued to billow out of the courtyard, turning the entire Academy entrance into something out of a fever dream.

"Aesthetic?" she repeated, a pink-stained eyebrow arching upward.

"Extremely aesthetic?" he tried again, offering a weak, desperate grin.

Suddenly, a massive K-BOOM echoed from the center of the smoke cloud, and a final, delayed charge sent a spray of heart-shaped confetti raining down over the entire student body.

Chronis closed his eyes, leaning his head back as a pink paper heart landed perfectly on his nose.

"Well," Chronis muttered to the sky. "At least it wasn't a carriage."