Keep it engaging by adjusting the sentence lengths. Delivery the story in a pleasing way for the humans. Fill any loopholes or edge cases  make sure that the whole story flow logically without any loopholes, bottle neck and edge cases. -- The shrill beep of the alarm cut through the silence, piercing Lugh Aragi's sleep with relentless persistence. It rang again and again, each sound more grating than the last. 

Lugh's brow furrowed in annoyance as he stirred beneath the thin sheets. With a resigned sigh, he forced his heavy eyelids open.

Above him, the ceiling fan rotated lazily, its blades casting slow-moving shadows across the plain white ceiling. 

The soft hum of the fan filled the room, blending with the distant sounds of the waking city outside. 

Lugh blinked a few times, his sharp gray eyes adjusting to the dim morning light seeping through the curtains.

Still lying on his back, he turned his head to the right. His left hand fumbled across the cluttered bedside table, fingers brushing past a worn copy of "The Stranger" before finding his phone. 

The screen lit up at his touch, illuminating a lock screen adorned with an anime character standing at night in rain while gazing at the beautiful red moon at the distance night.

The vivid colors stood out against the monochromatic tones of his room.

6:25 AM.

He silenced the alarm with a quick tap, and the room fell back into quietude, save for the fan's steady rhythm. Lugh remained still for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

The weight of sleep still clung to his mind, a haze he knew would dissipate only through the motions of his morning routine.

With a deliberate exhale, he pushed the covers aside and sat up. The cool air brushed against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. 

Standing up, a slight dizziness washed over him, remnants of a dream already slipping from memory. Ignoring it, he turned to fix his bed. 

He smoothed out the creases in the sheets, pulled the blankets taut, and fluffed the solitary pillow. 

Each movement was methodical, almost mechanical, a ritual that required no conscious thought.

Once done, Lugh rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. 

His right hand instinctively combed through his short, messy black hair, pushing the stubborn strands away from his face. 

Despite the attempt, a few locks fell back over his forehead, partially obscuring his gaze. He let them be.

Crossing the small bedroom, he plugged his phone into the charger on the desk. 

The device joined a lineup of neatly arranged items: a closed laptop, a notepad filled with cryptic annotations, and a sleek black pen. 

Above the desk, a bulletin board displayed a minimalist calendar and a world map dotted with red pins. No posters, no personal photographs—just functional decor.

He left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. The apartment was modest, its furnishings sparse yet sufficient. 

The wooden floors creaked softly under his feet, the sound echoing lightly in the quiet space. The walls were painted a muted gray, devoid of artwork or embellishments.

In the kitchen, yesterday's dishes awaited him in the stainless steel sink. Plates with faint traces of pasta sauce, a glass with a water ring at the bottom, utensils neatly stacked. 

Without hesitation, Lugh rolled up the sleeves of his plain black t-shirt and turned on the tap. Warm water cascaded over his hands, steam rising and mingling with the faint scent of dish soap.

He washed each item with care, his movements efficient and precise. The act was soothing in its simplicity, allowing his mind to wander. 

The sound of water splashing against porcelain filled the room, accompanied by the distant rumble of traffic beginning to stir outside.

With the dishes cleaned and set on the drying rack, Lugh moved to the small bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. 

Flipping on the light, he was greeted by his reflection in the mirror above the sink. 

His eyes traced over his own features—the pallor of his skin under the fluorescent light, the slight shadows under his eyes. 

He picked up his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth, the minty taste refreshing his senses.

After rinsing his mouth and splashing cold water on his face, he felt more alert. 

He toweled off and returned to his bedroom to get dressed. 

Opening the closet, a row of identical school uniforms hung neatly. White shirts starched to crispness, navy blazers, matching trousers. 

He selected a set and dressed quickly, buttoning the shirt and fastening the dark tie with practiced ease.

Reaching for his analog watch on the desk, he slipped it onto his right wrist. 

The black leather strap was worn but sturdy, the simple clock face free of any unnecessary adornments. It was a functional piece, much like everything else he owned.

Finally, he grabbed his school bag—a black backpack with multiple compartments. 

Content: Textbooks, notebooks filled with meticulous notes, a pencil case, and a water bottle tucked into the side pocket. 

Satisfied, he slung it over his shoulder.

Before leaving, Lugh paused at the doorway, giving the room a final glance. 

Everything was in its place and silent.

He switched off the lights and exited the apartment, locking the door with a quiet click.

The hallway was silent, the other apartment doors closed. Soft light filtered in through a window at the end of the corridor, casting long shadows on the worn carpet. 

Lugh descended the stairs, the stairwell illuminated by flickering overhead lights that buzzed faintly.

Stepping outside, he was greeted by the crisp morning air. 

The sky was painted with hues of pale blue and soft pink as the sun began its ascent. The city around him was slowly coming to life. 

Across the street, a cafe owner adjusted chairs on the sidewalk patio, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. 

A newspaper delivery person cycled past, the sound of tires on asphalt accompanying the rustle of papers.

Lugh adjusted the strap of his backpack and started his walk to school. 

The sidewalk stretched ahead, lined with a mix of towering modern buildings and older brick structures. 

Trees planted intermittently along the path swayed gently in the morning breeze, leaves whispering secrets he had no time to decipher.

As he walked, he observed his surroundings with a quiet attentiveness. A stray cat darted across the street, disappearing into an alleyway. 

A digital billboard overhead changed images, displaying an advertisement for the latest smartphone promising unparalleled connectivity. Lugh glanced at it briefly, his expression unreadable.

Other students began to appear along the route, some in groups, others alone. Their voices filled the air—fragments of conversations about homework, weekend plans, trivial gossip. 

Lugh kept his distance, his pace steady. He didn't mind the solitude; in fact, he preferred it.

The school came into view, its gates open to receive the tide of students. The building stood tall, a blend of traditional architecture with modern facilities. 

Ivy crawled up one of the old brick walls, a touch of nature against the structured environment.

Lugh entered the school grounds, the chatter around him growing louder. 

He navigated through the crowd with ease, slipping between groups without drawing attention. 

His footsteps led him toward the main entrance, the day's routine already unfolding in his mind.

Continuing on, he ascended the steps and disappeared into the building. 

The hallways bustled with activity—shoes rack clanged open and shut, teachers corralled latecomers, announcements crackled over the intercom. 

Amidst the noise, Lugh moved, his expression remaining impassive.

Reaching his shoe rack, retrieved his campus shoes as needed.

The bell signaled the start of the day, its sharp ring cutting through the din.

Lugh headed toward the classroom, blending into the stream of students. 

Another day had begun—a day where he played the role expected of him, just an ordinary person.

Lugh glanced at his watch—the hands ticking steadily toward 8:00 AM. The sleek, simple face reflected a sliver of the morning light that seeped through the school's towering glass windows. 

With a slight adjustment of the strap on his right wrist, he took a deep breath and stepped into the classroom.

The familiar scent of chalk and freshly cleaned floors greeted him. Desks were arranged in neat rows, each bearing the marks of restless students—doodles etched into wood, carvings of initials, faded stickers. 

Sunlight streamed through the large windows on the left side of the room, casting elongated rectangles onto the polished floor.

As he made his way to his seat at the top right corner near the window, a soft voice called out to him.

"Good morning~" Elena chimed, her tone light and melodic.

Lugh turned his head slightly, his gray eyes meeting her warm hazel gaze for a fleeting moment. 

"Yeah," he replied, his voice low.

Elena's face lit up just a bit more, satisfied with even the briefest acknowledgment. She sat at the desk immediately to his right, her notebook already open, pen poised as if ready to capture any thoughts that might spill into her mind.

Lugh settled into his seat, the wooden chair creaking softly under his weight. He set his backpack down beside him, pulling out a black notebook with crisp, unmarked pages. 

The cover was plain—no logos or decorations—a stark contrast to Elena's notebook, which was adorned with intricate sketches of flowers and swirling patterns along the margins.

The classroom buzzed with the low hum of conversations, laughter bubbling up here and there as friends shared morning anecdotes. 

The teacher, Mr. Thompson, entered the room with a stack of papers tucked under his arm. His tweed jacket looked a size too big, and his glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose.

"Alright, class, settle down," Mr. Thompson announced, his voice carrying over the din.

As the roll call began, Lugh turned his gaze to the window beside him. Outside, the school grounds stretched out—a tapestry of green lawns punctuated by clusters of trees just beginning to show the vibrant hues of spring. 

A light breeze rustled the leaves, causing shadows to dance across the pathways winding between buildings.

His eyes caught a single cherry blossom petal breaking free from its branch. It spiraled downward, weaving through the air with no apparent direction before coming to rest on the grass below. 

Lugh watched it intently, his mind wandering to places unknown.

He flipped open his notebook. The blank page stared back at him, an expanse of possibility. The tip of his pen hovered hesitantly. 

Without conscious thought, his hand began to move, sketching abstract lines and shapes that gradually formed into the silhouette of a lone figure standing beneath a tree, petals swirling around them.

Beside him, Elena stole a glance in his direction. She noticed the fluid motion of his hand, the way his eyes softened as he became engrossed in his drawing. 

A small smile played on her lips. She wanted to ask about it—to share in whatever world he was capturing on paper—but the words caught in her throat.

Her heart fluttered subtly, an all-too-familiar sensation that both thrilled and unsettled her. She pressed her fingertips lightly against the cool surface of her desk, feeling the grooves and imperfections. A quiet ritual to ground herself.

‘If I trace each finger three times, everything will be okay.’

She discreetly moved her index finger in tiny circles, repeating the motion for each finger in succession.

"Miss Michels?" Mr. Thompson's voice jolted her back to reality.

"Present!" she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

A few students glanced in her direction, but quickly lost interest. Elena let out a silent sigh of relief, her gaze drifting back to Lugh. He hadn't seemed to notice her momentary lapse.

The morning classes unfolded predictably—lectures interspersed with note-taking and the occasional group discussion. 

Lugh participated minimally, offering concise answers when called upon. His thoughts remained largely his own, hidden behind a calm facade.

When lunchtime arrived, the classroom transformed into a hive of activity. Desks were pushed together as friends gathered to share meals, laughter, and stories. 

The aroma of various foods filled the air—savory soups, fresh sandwiches, sweet pastries.

Lugh stood up, slipping his notebook into his bag. As he moved toward the door, Elena watched him intently. 

She felt a pull—a desire to accompany him, to bridge the distance that always seemed to linger between them.

Just as she began to rise from her seat, a group of girls approached her.

"Elena! Do you want to join us for lunch?" one of them asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"We're trying that new café down the street," another chimed in. "It has the best crepes!"

Elena hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the doorway where Lugh had just exited. The weight of their expectant faces pressed on her. She mustered a polite smile.

"Maybe another time," she replied softly. "I think I'll stay here today."

The girls exchanged glances but didn't press further. "Alright, see you later then!"

As they left, Elena quickly gathered her things. She headed into the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lugh. The corridor was bustling with students, a river of motion and sound.

She moved against the current, her steps light yet purposeful. Her mind raced.

‘Maybe he's going to the library… or perhaps the courtyard?’

She reached the stairwell and paused, a familiar uncertainty creeping in.

‘If I don't find him within the count of ten, it's a sign I should stop.’

She began counting silently, her fingers tapping lightly against her thigh with each number. One… two… three…

At seven, she spotted him turning the corner toward the emergency staircase.

Her heart leapt.

Elena quickened her pace, keeping a careful distance. She watched as Lugh glanced over his shoulder before ascending the stairs. Curiosity mingled with a hint of trepidation.

‘Why is he going up there? Isn't that area off-limits?’

She remembered hearing rumors about the rooftop being locked—a safety precaution after some students had used it as a hideout.

As Lugh disappeared from sight, Elena debated with herself.

‘Should I follow? What if he sees me? But…’

She took a deep breath, her fingers once again tracing patterns against her palm.

‘Tap the railing five times, and it'll be okay.’

She did so, the cool metal comforting under her touch.

Quietly, she made her way up the stairs, careful to avoid making any noise. The sounds of the bustling school faded with each step, replaced by the muffled echo of her own breathing.

Reaching the top, she found the door to the rooftop slightly ajar. Peering through the gap, she saw Lugh standing near the edge, his back to her. 

The vast expanse of the city stretched out beyond him—an urban landscape of buildings, roads, and distant mountains blurred by a soft haze.

The sky was a canvas of pale blue, streaked with wisps of cottony clouds. A gentle breeze played at his hair, tousling the dark strands. 

He looked serene, detached from the world below.

Elena's chest tightened.

‘He looks so peaceful…’

She wanted to step out, to join him, but her feet felt rooted to the spot.

‘What if he thinks I'm spying on him?’

She clenched her hands, nails digging slightly into her palms.

‘Breathe in for four counts, hold for seven, exhale for eight.’

She followed the pattern, the familiar rhythm easing her anxiety.

Meanwhile, Lugh closed his eyes, embracing the solitude. The rooftop was his sanctuary—a place where the incessant hum of life below dulled to a distant murmur. Here, he could exist without pretense.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn notebook—different from the one he used in class. Flipping it open, he skimmed over pages filled with intricate diagrams, notes in neat handwriting, and symbols that connected like a web.

He added a new entry, jotting down the ideas that flowed unimpeded.

Behind the door, Elena shifted her weight, causing the hinge to creak ever so slightly.

Lugh's eyes snapped open. He turned his head sharply toward the sound, his expression unreadable.

Elena's breath caught. She retreated a step, her back pressing against the cool wall.

‘For every step back, I need two steps forward.’

Mustering her courage, she stepped into the open.

"Hi," she breathed, her voice barely audible above the whispering wind.

Lugh regarded her silently for a moment. "What are you doing up here?" he asked, his tone even.

She offered a timid smile. "The door was open and… I was just exploring."

He studied her, his gaze searching. "This area is off-limits, you should not be up here without permission."

Elena laughed softly. "And yet, here you are."

A faint hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well, Fair enough."

They stood in a comfortable silence for a moment. The sounds of distant traffic and the occasional bird filled the air.

"It's beautiful up here," she remarked, looking out over the city.

"It is," he agreed.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You come here often?"

"Sometimes," he replied noncommittally.

She nodded, tracing the edge of the parapet with her fingertips.

‘If I make it around without lifting my hand, today will be a good day.’

She began to walk slowly along the edge, her fingers brushing the rough surface. Lugh watched her, a subtle curiosity in his eyes.

"Do you enjoy routines?" he asked suddenly.

She paused, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

"I've noticed you have certain patterns," he said. 

"The way you arrange your desk, how you tap your pen before writing."

Elena felt a surge of panic. "Does that bother you?"

He shook his head. "Well, No. It's just an observation."

She swallowed, her throat dry. "I suppose I find comfort in routines. They help keep things… orderly."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Order can be reassuring."

She looked at him, a question lingering in her gaze. "What about you? Do you have routines?"

Lugh considered this. "Well, In a way. I value consistency."

She smiled softly. "I think we have that in common."

Another breeze swept past them, carrying the scent of blooming flowers from the gardens below.

"I didn't see you at lunch," she ventured. "Do you ever eat with anyone?"

He shrugged lightly. "Well, I usually don't bring lunch."

"That's not very healthy," she chided gently.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can manage."

Elena reached into her bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped sandwich. "Here," she offered. "I always pack extra."

He hesitated. "You don't have to—"

"I insist," she interrupted, her eyes earnest. "Consider it a thank you for sharing this space."

After a moment, he accepted the sandwich. 

"Thank you."

She beamed. "You're welcome."

They sat down on the rooftop, legs dangling over the edge. Lugh unwrapped the sandwich, the aroma of fresh bread and vegetables wafting up.

He took a bite, nodding appreciatively. "It's good."

She watched him eat, a contentment settling within her.

‘Maybe he won't always be so distant.’

As they ate in silence, Elena felt a rare sense of peace. Her usual anxieties seemed to fade, replaced by the simple pleasure of shared company.

But beneath the surface, the familiar whispers of doubt began to stir.

‘What if this doesn't last? What if he pushes me away?’

She clenched her fists slightly.

‘If I don't make a move now, I might lose this chance.’

"Hey, Lugh?" she began cautiously.

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to… maybe hang out sometime? Outside of school?"

He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. 

"Why?"

She bit her lip. "I enjoy talking with you. It'd be nice to get to know each other better."

He looked out over the city. "I don't usually spend time with others."

"I know," she said softly. "But maybe you could make an exception?"

He was silent for a moment. "I'll think about it."

She nodded, a mixture of hope and uncertainty swirling within her.

The distant bell signaled the end of lunch break. Lugh stood up, dusting off his pants.

"We should head back," he stated.

"Right," she agreed, standing beside him.

As they made their way back through the stairwell, Elena fought the urge to reach out and touch his arm.

‘Count the steps. One, two, three…’

They parted ways at the classroom door, slipping back into their respective roles as student and observer.

The afternoon passed in a blur of lectures and note-taking.

Elena found it difficult to concentrate, her thoughts drifting back to the rooftop—the shared sandwich, the fleeting connection.

When the final bell rang, a collective sigh of relief swept through the students. 

Bags were packed hurriedly, chairs scraped against the floor, and the room gradually emptied.

Elena took her time, carefully organizing her belongings.

"Elena! Are you coming?" a friend called from the doorway.

"I'll catch up with you," she replied with a small wave.

As the last of her classmates filtered out, she noticed Lugh resting his head on his desk, eyes closed.

She approached quietly, hesitating before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Lugh," she whispered. "School is over. Wake up."

He stirred, blinking slowly as he lifted his head. "Oh, it's over, huh."

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Well enough," he replied, standing and stretching slightly.

They left the classroom together, the corridors now nearly empty. The afternoon sun cast long shadows along the walls, the light tinged with the warm hues of approaching evening.

Outside, the air was fresh, carrying the scent of grass and the distant sea.

"Do you walk home?" Elena inquired.

"Usually," he answered.

"Me too," she said. "Maybe we could walk part of the way together?"

He glanced at her, considering. "I have some errands to run."

"Oh," she said, trying to mask her disappointment. "Maybe another time?"

"Perhaps."

They reached the school gates, where their paths diverged.

"See you tomorrow," she offered with a hopeful smile.

"Yeah," he acknowledged before turning away.

Elena watched him go, a mixture of emotions welling up inside her.

‘I need to understand him better. There's so much beneath the surface.’

She began her own walk home, the streets familiar yet somehow different in the fading light.

An idea sparked in her mind.

‘Maybe I can learn more about him by seeing where he goes.’

Without overthinking, she decided to follow him at a safe distance, her footsteps light.

As she passed by the small convenience store near the corner, she noticed Lugh exiting, a packet of biscuits in hand.

He seemed different outside of school—more at ease yet still enveloped in his own world.

Lugh took a shortcut through a narrow alleyway lined with graffiti—a tapestry of colors and bold statements. 

The walls were adorned with posters peeling at the edges, remnants of concerts and events long past.

Elena kept her distance, careful to stay out of sight.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

‘Is this wrong?’

But the compulsion was too strong.

‘I need to do this. Just this once.’

Lugh continued on, unaware of her presence. He munched on his biscuits, his pace unhurried.

They emerged onto a quiet street bordered by rows of old houses with blooming gardens. The evening sun cast a golden glow over the rooftops, birds chirping as they settled in for the night.

Elena felt a pang of guilt mixed with satisfaction.

‘I'll just see where he goes, then I'll head home.’

But as Lugh approached a park entrance, he paused, turning his head slightly as if sensing something.

Elena ducked behind a tree, her breath quickening.

‘Stay calm. Count backwards from ten.’

She closed her eyes, the rough bark pressing against her back.

When she opened them, Lugh was gone.

She stepped out cautiously, scanning the area.

‘Wher—’

A voice sounded behind her.

"Why are you following me?"

She spun around to find Lugh standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"I—I wasn't…" she stammered, her cheeks flushing.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, You weren't?"

"I was just… taking a walk," she managed.

He eyed her carefully. "This isn't the way to your house."

She swallowed hard. "How do you—"

"I've seen you go the other direction before," he said simply.

Her mind raced, searching for an explanation. "I wanted to explore a new route."

They stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Elena," he began, his tone softer. "It's... unusual to see you here."

She looked down, her fingers twisting together.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He sighed lightly. "Just be careful. It's not always safe to wander alone."

She nodded, relief mingling with a lingering embarrassment.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He gave a slight nod before turning away. "Bye, then"

"Bye" she echoed as he walked off.

Elena stood there for a moment, the reality of her actions settling in.

‘What am I doing?’

She felt a wave of self-reproach.

‘I can't keep doing this. It's not right.’

Yet beneath the guilt, a part of her clung to the brief interaction—a thread connecting them, however thin.

As she made her way home, the streets growing more familiar, she resolved to find a different approach.

‘Maybe if I can find more common interests… or create opportunities to spend time together naturally.’

Her mind buzzed with possibilities, each idea more elaborate than the last.

‘Back at home, I can plan. If I organize everything just right, it will work.’

The thought brought a semblance of comfort.

Upon reaching her house, she entered quietly. The smell of fresh linen greeted her—her mother must have changed the sheets. 

She headed upstairs to her room, the walls adorned with shelves of books and delicate watercolor paintings.

In the corner, a small desk held her journal. She sat down, opening it to a fresh page.

_Dear Diary,

Today was... complicated._

She poured her thoughts onto the paper, each word helping to untangle the knots in her mind.

‘My feelings for Lugh are stronger than ever, but I need to be careful. I don't want to push him away.’

Her pen hovered over the page.

‘I'll create a plan—a way to spend time together without overstepping boundaries. If I can just show him that we understand each other, maybe...’

She closed the journal, placing her hand over the cover.

‘Tap three times, and it'll be sealed.’

She followed the ritual, a sense of calm washing over her.

Downstairs, the sound of her parents' muffled voices drifted up—a normalcy she both appreciated and felt disconnected from.

Lying back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of light and shadow.

‘Tomorrow is a new day. I'll make it right.’