CHAPTER 41
We followed the path to the school cafe, where the atmosphere was thick with the low hum of voices and the clatter of trays. We found Luke and Irfan sitting at a central table, but as we approached, the look on their faces stopped us cold. Luke looked genuinely shocked—a rare sight—and even Heather looked like she'd just seen a ghost.
"Well, well," Luke said, leaning back as we reached the table. His eyes were hard, scanning the room before settling on us. "You know the rules of this tournament, right? We are only supposed to pair up with Class A and Class C of the second year."
I nodded, feeling a prickle of unease. "Yeah, I know. Why are you bringing that up now?"
Irfan adjusted his glasses, his pale face looking even more serious than before. "Because that rule doesn't seem to apply to everyone. Or rather, it's not a rule for us."
"What do you mean?" Zack asked, his voice dropping into that low, guarded tone.
"I mean," Irfan explained, "that while the official brackets are set, the underground alliances are already shifting. People are free to make deals with anyone they wish behind the scenes. Which means..."
"Which means some people might betray us the second the first whistle blows," Luke finished, his gaze piercing. He leaned forward, staring directly at Zack. "And you suspected it to be Robert, didn't you? Am I right?"
Zack didn't flinch. He met Luke's gaze with a steady, unexpected calm. "No. He won't betray us."
Heather's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? Zack, how on earth do you know that? Ten minutes ago you were ready to take his head off!"
I stepped in, my hand still resting near Zack's. "Because we just had a conversation with him. All of us—Robert, Jugram, and even Anto. He agreed to the alliance, Luke. He's in."
Luke's eyebrows shot up. "He agreed? Just like that? Robert doesn't 'agree' to things unless there's a hook."
"He has his reasons," I said, thinking about the strange look Robert gave Victor and the cryptic words Anto had left us with. "But for now, the Superiors are standing with Class C."
Irfan and Luke exchanged a long, silent look. The "Reformed King" and the "Class C Leader" seemed to be weighing the risk, realizing that our army had just gained its most dangerous—and unpredictable—soldiers.
Luke turned his gaze fully toward Zack, his eyes cold and clinical. "I'm not going to believe you, Zack."
Zack's head snapped back slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What?"
"How can we trust a guy like Robert?" Luke added, gesturing vaguely toward the cafe entrance where the Superiors had disappeared. "He's incredibly cunning. He's the type of person who plays three moves ahead while you're still looking at the board. He might lie to your face just to see you fall. Am I right, Jane?"
I hesitated. I looked at Zack's determined expression, then thought back to Robert's predatory grin and the way he'd dodged questions. The logic of the tournament started to override my emotions. "Yeah, Luke... you might be right," I said softly. "He might betray us. We can't take his word as gospel just because he was smiling."
Zack looked at me as if I'd just slapped him. The shock on his face was followed by a flicker of genuine hurt. "Jane? You don't believe me?" his voice cracked slightly. "After everything... you're siding with him on this?"
Seeing the pain in his green eyes made my heart ache. I quickly reached out, placing both of my hands over his, squeezing tightly to ground him. "No, Zack, listen to me. I do believe you. I believe that you're being honest with us about what he said."
I paused, looking him straight in the eye. "But I am not going to believe him. I trust you, but I don't trust how slippery he is."
Zack's expression softened slightly, though the sting of the doubt still lingered in the air. Beside us, Heather leaned over and playfully tapped my shoulder, giving me a knowing, exaggerated wink that suggested we were being a bit too dramatic.
"Stop it, okay!" I told her, feeling my face flush as I tried to maintain my serious tone.
Before the tension could break any further, the school bell let out a long, jarring scream, signaling the end of the break. The sanctuary of the cafe was over.
"Class time," Irfan said, standing up with his usual calm. "We'll continue this later. But remember—a little suspicion keeps you sharp, as long as it doesn't tear us apart."
We all gathered our things and began the walk back to our floor. Zack stayed silent, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine in the crowded hallway. We had an alliance on paper, a strange rumor about Victor, and a leader who was waiting for the first sign of a double-cross. Saturday was coming, and the pressure was only getting started.
The classroom was buzzing with the low hum of students settling back into their desks, but for us, the air felt thick with the leftover tension from the cafe. I slid into the seat beside Zack, the proximity between us feeling more charged than usual after our disagreement in front of Luke.
I found myself drifting, my eyes scanning over him. He was dressed sharper than most, wearing a crisp white shirt layered under a sleek black coat that made his shoulders look broader. Around his neck, a thin gold chain caught the light every time he moved, a small touch of luxury that fit his "Prince" persona perfectly.
Zack caught me looking. He turned his head slightly, a faint, teasing smirk playing on his lips despite the lingering gloom in his eyes. "What are you staring at, m'lady?"
I didn't look away. "Well, I'm looking at your outfit. It looks good on you, Zack."
"Thanks," he muttered.
His voice was flat, almost hollow. There was a clear layer of disbelief in his tone, as if he didn't quite trust the compliment—or perhaps he was still feeling the sting of me siding with Luke's logic earlier.
"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning closer so only he could hear. "Why do you sound like that?"
Zack stared straight ahead at the chalkboard, his jaw tight. "It's nothing, Jane. Just thinking about the 'deal' and who actually trusts who in this room."
He was still hurt. I could feel it radiating off him, a cold wall he was building to protect himself. Wanting to bridge the gap and prove that my doubt was for Robert, not for him, I ignored the risk of the open classroom. I reached up, my palm settling softly against his cheek, my fingers brushing the hair near his temple.
I felt him freeze instantly. His breath hitched, and the cold, distant expression on his face shattered. The skin of his face was warm, a sharp contrast to the icy tone he'd been using. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned into my touch almost instinctively, his own hand coming up to cover mine, pressing my palm harder against his face as he finally turned to look at me, his green eyes burning with a sudden, intense heat.
"So what should we do?" Ethan asked, his voice tight with the mounting pressure.
Heather stood up, her eyes bright with a sudden realization. "There's another class we've all completely forgotten about. The first-years. Specifically, Class C of the first year. We don't know anything about them or where their loyalties lie. What if they're the wildcard that flips the whole board?"
The room went quiet for a moment as we processed that. We had been so focused on the power players in the second year that the freshmen hadn't even crossed our minds.
"Class C is really something," Dayana spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She shifted in her seat, looking uncharacteristically uneasy. "I honestly wish we didn't have to make an alliance with them at all."
I looked over at Dayana. She was famous throughout the school, but not for her grades. She was known for her revolving door of boyfriends and a social life that was more complicated than the tournament rules. I remembered a specific rumor floating around the gym lately—something about a messy breakup with a guy named Melvin, who happened to be the current vice-captain of my basketball team.
Heather caught the look on Dayana's face and raised an eyebrow, a devious smirk tugging at her lips. "Is this because of your ex-boyfriend, Dayana? Are you trying to avoid a whole class just because of one guy?"
Dayana bit her lip and looked away, the usual confidence in her eyes wavering. "Yeah... I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have ended things the way I did." She looked back at Heather, her expression grim. "Because Melvin isn't just the vice-captain of the basketball team anymore. He's the leader of that first-year class."
The revelation sent a new wave of tension through the room. If our bridge to the first-years was guarded by a bitter ex-boyfriend of one of our own, getting them on our side was going to be a nightmare. I glanced at Zack, then at Luke, who was still standing at the front of the room. This wasn't just a tournament of power anymore—it was becoming a tournament of grudges.
The classroom atmosphere remained heavy, the revelation of the second-year loophole hanging over us like a silent threat.
"So... could you just become his girlfriend again?" Heather asked, leaning across the aisle toward Dayana. "If it secures the alliance with the first-years, isn't it worth it?"
Dayana's eyes welled up, her breathing becoming shallow and erratic. "I would, but..."
"But what?" Sanaku chimed in from the row behind. "If he's the leader of Class 1-C, you're the only bridge we have. It's for the sake of the class."
"It's different," Dayana whispered, her voice trembling with an intensity that felt like more than just heartbreak. She sat down abruptly, burying her face in her hands. She wouldn't explain further, but the way she curled into herself made it clear that Melvin was someone she couldn't simply "go back" to.
Luke cleared his throat, his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of the podium. "I'll figure this out," he said, his voice straining under the sudden weight of managing a three-way alliance. "I'll find a way to manage the first-years. I won't let the pressure break this class."
I looked at Luke. He was trying to be the pillar for everyone, but the exhaustion was visible in the way he held his shoulders. He was trying to lead Class C against the Superiors and the First-years all at once. He couldn't hold this pressure alone.
"I'll help you with that, Luke," I said firmly, my voice cutting through the murmurs.
I saw Zack's hand twitch on the desk beside me. I knew the "Prince" in him didn't like me stepping into the line of fire, but I had a logical opening. "Melvin and I are in the Arts Club together," I reminded the class. "It's a quiet environment. I can find a way to get close to him there and see what his real angle is without a whole crowd watching or the basketball team hovering."
Beside me, I felt Zack flinch. He didn't move away, but a sudden, sharp coldness radiated from him. He kept his eyes fixed on his notebook, his jaw set so tight it looked painful.
Zack's POV
I stared at the ink on my page until the letters started to blur. I'll help you, Luke. The words looped in my head. I told myself to stay grounded. I shouldn't ask her about it; I shouldn't be that guy. Jane is already with me. She's sitting right here. I shouldn't be worried about my place, and I definitely shouldn't be jealous of Luke.
But a darker thought surfaced, unbidden and cold: Am I really that important to Jane? Or am I just the person she spends time with while she does the 'important' things with Luke? The insecurity gnawed at me. I wanted to believe I was her priority, but watching her volunteer to help Luke—to put herself in Melvin's orbit for the sake of the class—made me feel like a secondary character in her story. I wanted to ask her why it had to be her, why she had to be the one to bridge every gap, but the words felt too heavy to speak.
"Zack."
Luke's voice snapped me back to the room. I looked up to find him watching me from the front.
"I need your information," Luke said, his eyes narrowed as if he could sense the conflict brewing inside me. "You're the one who navigated the Superiors. I need the specifics of Robert's deal before Jane goes off to the Arts wing."
I straightened my coat, the gold chain clicking against my white shirt. I felt Jane's presence beside me, but my mind was already miles away. "The deal is solid for now, Luke," I said, my voice sounding distant. "But if we're counting on the Arts Club to save this alliance, we're playing a game we might not be ready for."
The school bell rang, its sharp chime cutting through the heavy silence that followed Zack's words. Instantly, the spell was broken. Students began packing their bags with a frantic energy, desperate to escape the pressure cooker of the classroom.
I turned to Zack, my hand lingering near his for just a second before I pulled back. "You go on ahead," I told him softly. "I have something I need to talk to Dayana about."
Zack looked at me, his green eyes still clouded with that lingering coldness, but he didn't protest. He simply nodded, his jaw tight, and stood up. He adjusted his black coat, the gold chain catching the light one last time before he disappeared into the crowd of students heading for the hallway.
Zack's POV
I walked out of the classroom, the noise of the hallways barely registering. My mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts and a bitter taste I couldn't quite wash away. I'll help you, Luke. The phrase was stuck on repeat.
I needed to clear my head. Maybe hitting the gym after school would help—focusing on something physical instead of the mental gymnastics of these alliances. I just wanted to forget about Melvin, the Arts Club, and the way Jane had jumped to Luke's side.
"Yeah, Zack... it's been a while, hasn't it?"
The voice was smooth, confident, and familiar. I stopped and turned to see Ashley, the leader of Class 3-B. She was leaning against a locker, her arms crossed, watching me with a knowing smirk.
"Yeah, Ashley," I replied, my voice flat. I wasn't in the mood for small talk, but she wasn't the type you could easily ignore. "Last time I saw you, you were crying."
Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and she pointed a warning finger at me. "Hey! Don't bring that up. That was a long time ago, and we agreed never to talk about it."
I leaned back against the opposite wall, closing my eyes for a moment. "Fine. So, what brings the leader of B-3 out into the hallway? Looking for trouble?"
"Looking for information, mostly," she said, her tone turning playful again as she stepped closer. "So, who are you making an alliance with? I've heard rumors, but I want to hear it from the Prince himself."
I opened my eyes, watching her carefully. "You first. Who's on your team?"
Ashley laughed, a bright, melodic sound that drew a few stares from passing students. "Class 1-A and Class 2-B. They've been really nice to me, you know. Especially the boys. They're so much easier to manage than the seniors."
She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, how about you, Zack? What's the word on Class C?"
I didn't answer. I thought about Robert's predatory grin, Luke's mounting desperation, and Jane's plan to infiltrate the Arts Club. The truth was far more complicated than a simple alliance.
"It's a work in progress," I said vaguely, pushing off the wall. "I'll see you around, Ashley."
"Still playing hard to get, I see!" she called out after me, laughing again.
I didn't look back. The gym was calling, and I needed to lose myself in the weights before I did something stupid, like going back to the Arts wing to see if Jane was really just 'scouting.'
I watched Zack disappear into the hallway, his silhouette looking lonelier than I cared to admit. As soon as the door cleared, I turned my attention back to Dayana. She was still sitting at her desk, staring blankly at the graffiti etched into the wood.
"So, tell me, Dayana," I said, sliding into the seat Zack had just vacated. "What really happened between you two? You don't react like that just over a normal breakup."
Dayana let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped. "It's nothing, Jane. Just drop it."
"Come on," I insisted, leaning in closer to lower my voice. "You can tell me everything. I'll keep it a secret—I swear. No one else has to know, not even Luke or Zack."
She finally looked up at me, but there was no gratitude in her eyes. Instead, they were sharp and defensive. "Leave me alone, Jane. Seriously. I don't trust you. You're too close to Luke and Zack... you'll eventually tell them if it helps 'the mission.'"
"Dayana—"
"I said move!" she snapped, standing up so quickly her chair nearly toppled over.
Before she could bolt, Heather appeared from the side. For once, she didn't choose violence or a witty insult. Her face was surprisingly calm, though her voice carried a heavy weight.
"Look, Dayana," Heather said, blocking the aisle. "If you don't tell us what's going on, we aren't going to win this tournament. We're going to walk into a trap because we're missing a piece of the puzzle that only you have."
Dayana glared at Heather, her lip trembling for a second before her expression hardened into a mask of pure coldness.
"I don't care about the tournament," Dayana said, her voice icy. "I don't care about the class, and I don't care about winning. If you want to lose, lose. Just stay out of my life."
She shoved past Heather and ran out of the classroom, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Heather and I stood there in the sudden silence of the empty room. The "secret" was clearly a lot bigger than we thought. I looked at the clock—fifteen minutes until the Arts Club met. If Dayana wouldn't talk, I'd have to get the truth directly from the source. I had to find Melvin.
The POV shifts to Dayana, who was practically running through the corridors, her vision blurred by tears she refused to let fall. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a sharp, aggressive vibration that made her stomach drop.
She ducked into the empty girl's bathroom and fumbled with her screen. It was a message from Melvin.
Melvin: Do you want me to leak it? 😏
Dayana's breath hitched. Her fingers trembled so violently she almost dropped the phone against the tiled floor. She typed back with desperate, shaking thumbs.
Dayana: What do you want?
The reply came almost instantly, the "typing" bubbles feeling like a countdown to her execution.
Melvin: You know what I want.
Dayana's heart hammered against her ribs. She knew that tone. He wanted the power back; he wanted her under his thumb, exactly where she had been before she finally found the courage to leave him. She couldn't breathe. The walls of the bathroom stall felt like they were closing in. Unable to look at the screen for another second, she slammed her phone shut and pressed her forehead against the cool plastic of the stall door, trying to stop the world from spinning.
But the phone buzzed again.
She didn't want to look. She prayed it was Jane or Heather, but deep down, she knew. She opened the message, and her blood turned to ice.
It was the file. The thumbnail of the video played for a split second before she could even process it—a hauntingly clear image of her most private moment.
Melvin: You're a slut. Don't think for a second you're ever getting away from me.
Dayana let out a choked, silent sob, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. She was trapped. If she helped Class C, he would ruin her. If she didn't help, she'd be his puppet forever. She looked at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, seeing a girl who was about to lose everything before the tournament even began.
The bathroom door creaked open, but it wasn't the sound of a student just passing through. The footsteps were slow, deliberate, and stopped right in front of Dayana's stall.
"Let me help you," a voice said—cool, calm, and entirely unexpected.
Dayana froze, quickly wiping her eyes and clutching her phone to her chest. She pushed the stall door open to see a girl she rarely spoke to standing by the sinks, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Why are you here?" Dayana asked, her voice thick with suppressed tears. "Are you here to mock me too?"
The girl didn't flinch. "I'm here because I know what it's like to have a shadow following you. And I think it's time we shine a light on Melvin."
Jane's POV
Outside in the hallway, Heather and I were pacing, the weight of Dayana's outburst still heavy on us.
"What are we going to do now?" I asked, looking at the clock. The seconds were ticking away toward the Arts Club meeting. "If she doesn't talk, we're flying blind."
Heather crossed her arms, leaning against a locker. "We can't really do anything unless we know why they broke up. If we know the 'why,' we might find a way to convince Melvin to work with us—or at least find his weakness."
"Convincing him is going to be the hard part," I muttered.
Our conversation was cut short when we spotted Ray at the end of the hall. He wasn't alone. He was deep in conversation with a girl I didn't recognize—a second-year, judging by the trim on her blazer. She had a sharp, confident air about her, and she was laughing at something Ray said.
Heather's eyes narrowed. "Who is that?"
Before I could answer, Heather marched over. Ray saw us approaching and quickly waved the girl goodbye. She gave him a lingering smile before turning the corner.
"Who was she?" Heather demanded the second we reached him.
Ray rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at us. "Oh, her? She's... she's nobody. Just someone asking for directions."
Heather didn't buy it for a second. She stepped forward, closing the distance until she was deep in his personal space. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, forcing him to look back at her. "Tell me the truth, Ray. I don't like being lied to."
Ray's face turned a deep, bright crimson. He stammered for a second, his breath hitching as Heather leaned even closer.
"S-she's the leader of Class D of the second year," Ray finally blurted out, his voice a pitch higher than usual. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. "We were just... discussing the tournament. That's all!"
Heather pulled back just an inch, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "Class D, huh? Seems like everyone is busy making their own 'sub-alliances' while we're stuck dealing with Melvin."
I looked at Ray, then at Heather. The web was getting more tangled by the minute. If Ray was talking to Class D, and I was about to face Melvin in the Arts Club, the "simple" tournament Mr. Peterson described was officially dead.