Lagonoy High School wasn't famous for being extraordinary. But for the students of Star Section Diamond, it had begun to feel like every hallway hid a secret, every corner whispered a story, and every desk could be the start of something magical—or at least mildly dramatic.
Kiel L. Fernando was known across Diamond Section as "Astro"—not because he was a star athlete, but because he loved stars. He could explain the Big Bang in five languages (two of which he made up), recite the scientific names of every known galaxy cluster, and once corrected the science teacher about a misquoted Neil deGrasse Tyson line. He dreamed of becoming an astraulogist—a mix of an astrologer and an astrophysicist, he claimed, despite being told repeatedly that astrology wasn't real science.
He was quiet, nerdy, and mostly uninterested in social interactions. Love? Adventure? All highly illogical distractions.
Until she burst into the library like a rogue asteroid.
BAM.
The heavy wooden doors slammed open, the echo bouncing off the ancient bookcases. Students jumped. Even the librarian—so used to silence you could hear dust settle—merely sighed and went back to cataloging.
In marched a girl with her ponytail bouncing, shoes dusty, and eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement.
"Keiiiiiel!"
Kiel barely looked up from his notebook filled with formulas. "Do not shout in the—"
She slammed her palm on his desk.
"I heard you know stuff about mathematical formulas and weird science theories, right?"
He blinked at her. "Aria Calvento, you startled my notes."
"Cool. Anyway," she said, ignoring him entirely. "I found something. A secret. Hidden in this school. And the first clue? It's written in equations. Beyond me."
Kiel stared, expression flat. "You're smart. Use your brain."
Aria grinned. "Nah. Not when there's an adventure waiting. I need someone who understands these... weird letter things. Like what's a lambda, anyway?"
"A Greek symbol. Used to represent wavelength," he replied automatically.
"Exactly! That's why I need you! Come! The adventure of us begins!"
Before he could protest, Aria grabbed his wrist and pulled. He stumbled forward, half-protesting, half-aware that no one in the library was helping him.
He called out, "This is academic kidnapping!"
"You'll thank me later!"
That day began something Kiel had no formula for. For weeks, Aria dragged him through campus, showing him cryptic notes carved under staircases, numbers chalked onto abandoned bulletin boards, and faded equations written beneath bleachers.
One note scribbled on the back of an old music room schedule read:
x² + y² = z²
Kiel raised an eyebrow. "That's just the Pythagorean Theorem."
"Maybe. Or maybe it's a map!" Aria replied.
Another note etched into the floor under the stage read:
S(t) = ut + ½at²
"Basic physics," Kiel muttered, before noticing an arrow drawn next to the equation, pointing toward the science lab.
Each clue was connected by strange riddles. One paper tucked behind a hallway clock read:
"To find the stories long forgot,
Start where time forgets to tick-tock.
The room of echoes and of steam,
Where stars and dreams begin to gleam."
Kiel translated: "The abandoned physics lab."
"EXACTLY!" Aria cheered. "This is better than any fantasy novel!"
And slowly, Kiel began to agree.
In between adventures, something changed.
Kiel noticed how Aria smiled even when she didn't understand a formula. How she walked with reckless joy like the world was just another treasure map. He started looking forward to her sudden entrances, her impulsive excitement, the way she said "us" when talking about the adventure.
Aria, for her part, stopped seeing Kiel as just a living calculator. He was funny in his own dry way. He muttered complaints but always followed her anyway. He explained every math symbol patiently, even when she doodled cats in his notes.
Once, while they hid behind the school chapel trying to decipher a chalked equation, their hands touched while reaching for the same dusty notebook. They both froze.
Aria laughed first. "Careful, science boy. You're gonna catch feelings."
Kiel's cheeks turned red. "Feelings are unquantifiable and highly irrational."
But he didn't pull his hand away.
As the weeks passed, so did the clues. The riddles became more complex.
One led them to a janitor's closet that hadn't been opened in years. Inside, on the inner wall, they found an engraved equation:
∫₀^∞ e^(-x²) dx = √π / 2
"What the heck does that mean?" Aria asked.
"It's a Gaussian integral. Very advanced. But why... here?" Kiel murmured.
Next to it, a message was carved:
"When numbers end and dreams collide,
You'll find what truth the stars may hide.
The final key, the final test,
Lies where scholars go to rest."
"The library," they both said at the same time.
It was the day before Intramurals. Most students were focused on jerseys and tryouts. But Kiel and Aria weren't done.
They returned to the library, searching every shelf until Aria, climbing on a chair like a jungle explorer, pointed at a dusty, misfiled volume labeled The Starbound. Hidden behind it was a thin, leather-bound book.
Inside were old photos, doodles, and notes from a group of fourth-year students from years ago—the Star Section Barayong. The final message read:
"Congratulations, Adventurer.
We knew someone would find this.
We weren't the last dreamers—just the first. The adventure doesn't die. It passes on.
From: Lorenzo B. Moreña."
They stared at the message for a long time.
Aria gently closed the book.
Kiel finally asked, "What now?"
She turned to him, eyes brighter than stars. "Now we make our own story."
He looked at her, this wild, loud, brilliant girl who had kidnapped his heart like she did his study time.
And he smiled.
"Maybe... maybe I'll study archaeology with you."
"And I'll learn physics. Maybe," she teased.
"Deal."
And for the first time, Kiel felt something even the universe couldn't measure.
A future, not of stars—but of shared wonder.
Together.