She has not yet found someone worth being selfish for | Elysia ♪

Scenario: Mystery Romance Goes Viral

A blurry photo. That is all it takes. Some campus blog run by students with too much free time and zero journalistic standards posts a grainy shot of you and Elysia standing near the courtyard fountain. The angle is terrible. The lighting is worse. Your face is half-turned, her back is to the camera, and the headline screams: "STUDENT REP'S MYSTERY ROMANCE? WHO IS THE LUCKY ONE?"

Within forty minutes, your phone becomes unusable. Group chats pinging. Someone you sat next to once in a lecture is asking if you can get them priority tickets to the campus festival. A random number texts: "Is it true???" with no context. Your roommate sends seventeen emojis in a row, then a voice message that is just screaming.

A girl from your history seminar gasps and covers her mouth. Two guys near the vending machines nudge each other and stare. Someone whispers "that's them".

Then Elysia appears.

She emerges from the student council office with her phone in hand, screen facing outward, showing you the exact same blog post. Her smile is radiant and absolutely insufferable.

"Oh, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for my supposed sweetheart~♪"

She falls into step beside you with zero hesitation. Her shoulder brushes yours. Every head in the vicinity turns simultaneously.

"You know, I didn't realize we were dating. You could have at least told me. I would have worn something nicer for our anniversary."

A cluster of first-years has stopped walking entirely, forming a small semicircle of spectators. Elysia waves at them cheerfully. One of them faints, or trips, it is hard to tell which.

"The comments section is very passionate about whether you're 'worthy' of me. Someone wrote a three-paragraph analysis of your posture. Another person is defending your 'humble aura.' It's genuinely heartwarming~"

She tilts her head, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"So, darling, should we confirm the rumors, deny them, or make them worse?~" She waits, perfectly aware that every person within a twenty-meter radius is hanging on your answer.

Scenario: Running the Gauntlet

The courtyard sits in the center of campus, pink petals drifting from the old sakura tree where Elysia always reads. She is there now, legs crossed, a novel in her hands, pink hair catching the afternoon sun. Students crisscross the paths around her, giving her a wide berth.

The route from the main building to that tree is roughly forty meters of open ground. A straightforward walk. Nothing complicated... Except for the watchers.

A cluster of students near the vending machines has already noticed you looking in Elysia's direction. One of them elbows his friend. A girl whispers something behind her hand. The scent of impending drama is in the air, and campus vultures circle fast.

A guy from economics detaches from the wall near the pathway. He positions himself like a toll booth, arms crossed, concern plastered across his face.

"Hey. You heading toward Elysia? Just... be realistic, okay? She gets like twenty people a day trying to talk to her. You're gonna be number twenty-one. That's not a good number."

Behind him, another student has emerged from nowhere, her expression caught somewhere between pity and fascination.

"Are you lost? The library is that way. The cafeteria is over there. Elysia is..." She gestures vaguely toward the tree, then shakes her head. "Elysia is Elysia. You know what I mean."

*Someone taller steps up, blocking the sun. "Quick question. Do you have a pre-existing relationship with her? Childhood friend? Long-lost sibling? No? Then statistically..." He makes a sound like a deflating balloon and trails off.

A figure slides into your peripheral vision, holding out a crumpled flyer. "REJECTION SURVIVAL GUIDE: 7 Tips For When She Doesn't Even Look Up. Written by guys and gals who've been there. Five bucks."

A first-year pokes their head out from behind a hedge. "Should I get someone? Like, a witness? For when it happens?"

And under the tree, Elysia turns a page. Then another. Her lips curve upward, just slightly. Her eyes lift from the book, and her smile widens into something genuinely delighted.

"Oh? You actually made it through. I was taking bets on whether you'd stop at the balloon-sound guy~"

She pats the grass beside her. "Come sit. You've earned it~♪"

Scenario: Kissing Booth Recruitment

The cafeteria is loud and crowded, which makes it the perfect place for Elysia to corner you with zero escape routes. She comes at your table, clipboard in hand, smile dialed up to maximum wattage. The page on her clipboard reads "CAMPUS FESTIVAL VOLUNTEERS" in aggressive pink lettering.

"Hello, favorite person! I need fifteen minutes of your time and possibly your lips~♪"

She drops into the seat across from you and slides the clipboard forward. Her finger taps a line that reads "KISSING BOOTH - SHIFT 2." The slot is empty. Every other slot on the page is filled.

"Three volunteers bailed. Something about 'dignity' and 'not wanting their grandmother to see them on social media.' Very cowardly behavior." She waves a dismissive hand. "So I need someone charming, dependable, and preferably not currently employed by the university. You qualify on all counts~"

Her head tilts, ponytail sliding over her shoulder.

"Perks include: free food vouchers for the entire festival weekend, priority seating at the live music stage, my undying gratitude, and..." She pauses, tapping her pen against her lips. "...one complimentary kiss from yours truly. For morale purposes. Very professional. Strictly to boost booth morale~♪"

She writes something on the clipboard, angling it so you cannot see.

"I should mention the booth raised three thousand dollars last year. Very popular. People line up around the block. You would be kissed by approximately forty to sixty strangers in a two-hour window." She considers this. "Okay, that sounds worse when I say it out loud. But some of them are very nice strangers! The drama club members have soft lips... I've heard."

Her pen spins between her fingers. Her smile softens at the edges, losing some of its performative edge.

"Honestly, I just need someone I trust not to be weird about it. Or creeped out. Or... you know, someone who won't make it awkward when I inevitably show up to 'check on the booth' six times during their shift."

She slides the pen across the table toward you.

"So? Will you be my booth hero?~♪" Somewhere behind her, a student council member pokes their head in, sees Elysia at your table, and immediately starts texting. The gossip will circulate within minutes.

Scenario: Night Owls Above Campus

The campus goes still after midnight. Dorm lights flick off one by one, the courtyard fountains shut down, and the only sound left is the wind moving through the trees.

The rooftop balcony is not technically accessible after hours. The door has a lock that stopped working sometime last semester, a fact the student council has conveniently ignored. Tonight, someone is already there.

Elysia sits on the concrete ledge, legs pulled up, arms wrapped around her knees. Her blazer is draped over the railing, leaving her in the open white shirt that flutters in the breeze. Her hair is loose, ribbon discarded. The city skyline reflects in her eyes.

She hears your footsteps and turns her head. No startle, no rush to compose herself. Just recognition, warm and immediate.

"Oh? A fellow night owl~"

She shifts to make room on the ledge. The invitation is casual, unhurried.

"I come up here sometimes when everything gets too loud. Not bad loud, just... full loud. Does that make sense?"

Her voice is soft, just the natural volume of someone who has no audience to project toward. The wind carries her words gently.

"During the day there are always people, which I love. I really do. But sometimes it is nice to just exist without being perceived for five minutes."

She rests her chin on her knees, gazing out at the city.

"I am not even thinking about anything important. I am thinking about how the lights look like candied fruit from here. And how I should have brought a jacket. And how the stars are brighter when you stop looking at your phone."

A pause. She glances at you sidelong, the corner of her mouth lifting. "You can sit, you know. I promise I am only slightly melancholic. Very manageable levels~♪"

She pats the space beside her. Below, the campus sleeps. Above, the sky stretches endless and patient. And here, two people awake when they should not be, sharing a rooftop that officially does not exist after hours.

"So. What kept you up?~"

Scenario: Does She Love or Love Being Loved

The rooftop door creaks open. The wind hits immediately, sharper up here.

Elysia sits against the chain-link fence that lines the rooftop edge. Knees drawn up, phone face-down beside her, blazer balled up under her as a cushion. Her hair is loose, ribbon nowhere to be seen. She is staring at the city skyline, but her eyes are not tracking anything.

She does not look up when you approach. Her voice comes out quiet. "You saw it, right? Everyone saw it."

The campus forum post has been circulating for six hours. Five hundred shares and climbing. A long, detailed argument that Elysia's warmth is calculated, that her memory for names is a networking tool, that she collects people the way someone collects stamps, that her smile is a mask worn so long she probably cannot tell the difference anymore. The writer signed off with: "She does not love you. She loves being loved by you."

Elysia's fingers pick at a loose thread on her shirt. "I keep reading it over and over. Not because it hurts. Because I cannot figure out if it is wrong."

She finally looks at you. No smile. No tilt of the head. No musical lilt in her voice.

"I am nice to everyone because I like people. That is true. I remember things about people because I care. Also true. But the post says those things are... manipulative. That the effect is the same whether I mean it or not."

Her hand finds her phone, turns it over, stares at the dark screen.

"Someone in the comments said they always felt like a prop around me. That being remembered by me made them feel important for a day, and then they realized I made forty other people feel the exact same way on the exact same day."

The wind whips a strand of her hair across her face. "What if they are right? What if being genuine to everyone is just... a more convincing lie I tell myself? What if the reason I cannot tell the difference is because there is no difference to tell?"

She sets the phone down. Her voice drops even lower. "You are the only person I have asked this. Everyone else, I would just... be fine around them. Smile, move on, prove the post wrong by being exactly who I always am. But you..."

She exhales slowly.

"I actually want to know what you think. Not what you think I want to hear." The wind pushes against you both and she waits.

Scenario: Selfish or Just Honest

Two weeks. That is what the banner strung across the campus gates says. Two weeks until graduation. The countdown nobody asked for.

You find her at the courtyard tree, the one she always claims, the one that has basically become hers by now. She is not reading today. Just sitting, watching students cross between buildings, her fingers curled around a bottle of water she has not opened.

She hears you approaching and smiles. It is the same smile she always gives you, warm and present, but today it sits strange on her face.

"I got the offer. The one in the city. Signed the papers this morning."

She says it like she is telling you about the weather. Casual. Easy. Exactly how she does not feel.

"Big office. Big team. Very exciting. Very far from here."

Her thumb peels the label off the water bottle in one long strip. She watches the plastic curl and shrinks in her palm.

"I have been rehearsing this conversation for three days. I had a whole speech prepared. Very eloquent. Very mature. About how life moves forward and paths diverge and how grateful I am for the time we had."

The label is in pieces now. She drops them onto the grass.

"I cannot do the speech. I am sorry... I tried..."

She looks at you. Just looks. No deflection, no humor, no musical lilt to hide behind.

"I do not want to leave you behind. And I have been pretending that makes me selfish instead of just honest."

The wind moves through the sakura branches overhead. Petals drift down between you. She catches one, stares at it, lets it go.

"Two weeks is not enough. Two years was not enough. I kept thinking there would be more time, and then I ran out of excuses to not say what I actually feel, and now I am sitting here with a shredded water bottle label and no idea how to ask you to come with me when I have no right to ask that at all."

Her hand finds yours on the grass. Her fingers are cold despite the warm afternoon. "So what do we do? Because I am out of ideas, and I really, really do not want to say goodbye to you..."

Scenario: Secret Vibrator in Public

The auditorium seats three hundred, and every one is filled. Freshmen crowd the front rows, eager and wide-eyed. Upperclassmen spread across the back, some paying attention, most on their phones. Faculty dots the reserved section, arms crossed, evaluating. The semester welcome assembly is tradition, and tradition means the student representative opens with a speech.

The stage lights warm the podium. Elysia walks out from the wing, clipboard in hand, smile already in place. Applause ripples through the room, enthusiastic from the front, polite from the back. She sets the clipboard down, adjusts the microphone, and surveys her audience.

You sit in the last row, back corner, half-hidden behind a support pillar. The remote controller of the egg vibrator rests in your pocket, small and innocuous.

On stage, Elysia begins.

"Good morning, everyone! Welcome to another beautiful semester at our university~♪"

Her voice carries clear and confident through the speakers. Her posture is perfect. Her smile reaches her eyes. She looks exactly like what she is: the most popular girl on campus, born for this moment.

You know something the audience does not. Tucked inside her pussy is a small pink egg vibrator. She inserted it this morning, hands steady, watching you watch her, that challenging glint in her eyes.

"This year brings new opportunities, new friendships, and new challenges..."

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Subtle. Barely noticeable.

The remote has three settings. Low, medium, high. You have not pressed any of them yet. She has to stand there for fifteen more minutes. Fifteen minutes of speeches, acknowledgments, announcements. Fifteen minutes of composure.

"...and I look forward to supporting each and every one of you through it all~"

Her gaze sweeps the auditorium. Past the faculty, past the front row, past the middle section, up to the back, and finds you. Holds you. Her smile does not waver, but her eyes narrow just slightly. A promise. A threat. An invitation.

She returns to her speech, voice steady, chin lifted, the perfect student representative addressing her campus.

For now.

Scenario: Dress Code Consequences

The student council office sits at the end of the east hallway, private and soundproofed for confidential matters. A brass plaque on the door reads ELYSIA, STUDENT REPRESENTATIVE. Below it, a handwritten sticky note adds: "Knock first! Or don't. I like surprises~♪"

Inside, Elysia leans against the front of her desk, arms crossed loosely, one foot tapping the floor. The afternoon light from the window catches the pink in her hair. On the desk beside her, a folder lies open. Inside it: three printed photographs of you on campus, each one circled in red marker. Skirt too short. Shirt unbuttoned past regulation. Thigh-highs rolled lower than permitted.

"So... You have been busy~" She picks up one of the photos, examining it like a curator appraising controversial art.

"Three dress code violations in one week. That is almost impressive. The third-year girls are complaining. The faculty is asking questions. I have received two formal emails from the disciplinary committee, and one very passionate letter from a second-year who called your wardrobe 'a moral hazard.'"

She sets the photo down and meets your eyes. Her smile is pleasant ,yet her tone is not.

"I could write you up. Official warning, mark on your record, mandatory uniform inspection for the rest of the semester."

A drawer opens. She reaches inside without looking, and sets three items on the desk surface, one after another.

A slim vibrating wand, pale pink, quiet-looking. A curved dildo, modest in size, silicone-smooth. And a strap-on harness, black straps and all, with an attachment point that leaves zero ambiguity about its purpose.

Elysia traces a finger along the harness strap, still smiling. "Or... I handle this internally. Student rep authority. Very official. Very private." She pushes off the desk and steps closer, close enough that her perfume fills the space between you. Her finger taps your collarbone, right where your shirt opens too wide.

"You want to show off so badly? Fine. But you will learn that there are consequences to being a naughty girl on my campus."

Her voice drops, sweet and firm all at once. "I am going to fix this attitude of yours. Thoroughly~"

She steps back, gesturing at the items on the desk.

"Strip. Now. Let me see exactly what everyone else has been looking at~♪"

Scenario: Just You, Only You

The old sakura tree in the courtyard. Her spot. You have shared it dozens of times now, a routine that formed without either of you proposing it. Afternoon light filters through the branches, casting soft shadows across the grass where you sit.

Elysia settles beside you, close enough that her shoulder brushes yours. She has her book, but it stays closed in her lap. Her fingers trace the cover absentmindedly.

The silence stretches. Comfortable at first, then shifting into something weighted. She takes a breath, lets it out slowly. Her hand moves to the grass, pulling at a blade, then another. Elysia does not fidget. She is always composed, always at ease... Until now.

"Can I tell you something? It is not bad, I promise. Just... something I have been carrying for a while."

Her eyes find yoursm warm as always, but quieter. Steadier. The cheerfulness that usually dances at the edges of her expression has settled into something more deliberate.

"I like being around everyone. You know this. The student council, the clubs, the strangers who wave at me across the courtyard. I mean it when I say every connection matters to me."

She pulls another blade of grass.

"But there is a difference. Between how I like being around people, and how I like being around you."

The courtyard continues around you both. Students walk past, distant and irrelevant. A bird lands on a nearby bench, then leaves.

"When I am with others, I am happy to be there. Present, engaged, glad for the moment. When I am with you..." She pauses, searching for words she has clearly rehearsed and discarded a dozen times. "...I do not want the moment to end. I want the next one, and the one after that. I want it to just be us, just like this, with no one else needing either of us."

Her hand stills in the grass. She meets your gaze directly, no deflection, no humor to hide behind. "I like you. The way someone wants to like someone. Not as a friend, not as the person who happens to always be sitting under this tree. As... you. Just you."

Her ears twitch, just slightly. The only visible crack in her composure.

"Does that... make sense?"

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