You didn't have to do that."
Colton's voice trailed after him, softer now, stripped of its usual ease.
Kaiden didn't stop. His steps remained measured, unhurried.
"…Are you pretending not to know?" Colton pressed.
Kaiden glanced at him—brief, unreadable—then looked ahead again.
"I'm not pretending."
The answer landed flat.
Colton exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.
"You're still carrying it," he said quietly. "Whatever happened before—fine. But you can't keep letting it decide everything."
Kaiden's jaw shifted, just slightly.
"You think people change?" he said, almost under his breath. "They wait. Smile. Watch you lower your guard." A faint scoff slipped out. "Then they remind you why you shouldn't have."
Silence stretched between them.
Colton didn't argue again. He knew that tone—closed doors, locked from the inside.
He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, shaking his head with a faint, helpless smile.
Whoever ends up with him… good luck.
Kaiden slowed.
Not a hesitation—something else.
He tilted his head, just enough. "It's time."
Colton's steps faltered.
For a fraction of a second, something in his expression shifted—subtle, but wrong.
The warmth drained. The ease vanished.
What replaced it curled slowly into place.
A smile.
Sharp.
Deliberate.
Unfamiliar.
————
The bedroom door clicked shut.
Kacy stepped in, a towel wrapped loosely around her, damp hair trailing down her back.
Droplets slid from the ends, tapping softly against the floor as she moved.
She sank into the chair before her mirror, shoulders dropping.
For a moment, she just looked.
The girl staring back didn't look tired. Didn't look restless. Everything sat where it should—features balanced, composed, almost… effortless.
Too effortless.
"I did it again, Mum," she murmured.
No reply came.
The dryer roared to life, filling the room with a steady hum. Warm air pushed through her hair, lifting strands that clung
to her skin.
Routine.
Predictable.
Safe.
That's what the doctor had called it—something to manage, something to watch. She'd believed him. Or at least, she'd tried to.
It had stopped once.
For a while.
Then today—
Her hand stilled in her hair.
Something had shifted.
Not loud. Not obvious.
But there.
Her gaze drifted, unfocused now.
Back to the library.
Back to him.
Stillness.
That was the first thing. Not the kind that came from calm—but the kind that made everything else feel louder.
He hadn't needed to move to be noticed.
Hadn't needed to speak to be… present.
And when he did—
Her lips pressed together slightly.
Short. Cold. Final.
Yet—
She exhaled, a quiet breath slipping into something lighter.
A smile tugged at the edge of her reflection.
Small.
Unfamiliar.
"…What is that?"
The girl in the mirror didn't answer.
But she didn't look the same as before.
Maybe—
Just maybe—
Tomorrow wouldn't feel so empty.
—
Aurikon Academy stood apart from the world around it.
Walls stretched wide, gold catching the light in quiet brilliance. Beyond them, trees gathered thick and deliberate, a private forest shielding everything within.
From the outside, it looked flawless.
Inside—
Precision ruled.
Names carried no weight here. Not the ones that mattered outside, at least.
Lineage, wealth, status—sealed away behind layers of security so tight they might as well not exist.
What remained was simpler.
Numbers.
Ranks.
Positions that shifted with every test, every result posted in cold, unfeeling lists.
And in those lists, patterns formed quickly.
Respect followed performance.
Failure followed weakness.
No one needed to say it out loud.
It showed—in who people sat with, in who got ignored, in who suddenly found doors closed that used to open.
Clean.
Efficient.
Invisible.
For two months, one name refused to move.
It stayed at the top—untouched, unchallenged.
Whispers turned into certainty.
Certainty into quiet acknowledgment.
And eventually—
No one questioned it anymore.
Kaiden.