.
The school theater looked like it had survived three generations of drama—and not the good kind.
The wooden seats groaned if you so much as looked at them wrong.
The crimson curtains were faded and wrinkled, like they'd fought in a war and lost.
And the stage?
Yeah.
One wrong step and it would creak so loud you'd think it was exposing your secrets to the entire room.
The air smelled like dust, old popcorn, and the faint scent of regret.
And right in the middle of all that chaos—
Mr. Rick.
Reclining on a chair like he was starring in his own movie.
Sunglasses on. Indoors. Again.
Honestly, I was starting to think he slept in them.
Meanwhile, the six of us stood on stage, lined up like we were about to be judged by a panel of very disappointed ancestors.
Posture straight.
Faces serious.
Brains? Confused.
Mr. Rick suddenly stood up, stretching like a cat that owned the entire building.
He walked toward us slowly—dramatically—hands clasped behind his back, shoes echoing against the wooden floor like he was about to announce the end of the world.
"This competition…" he began.
Pause.
Long pause.
"Means everything to me."
His voice echoed through the empty theater.
Liam leaned toward me and whispered, "Did he just declare war?"
"Shut up," I muttered.
Mr. Rick continued, lowering his voice like it made things more serious.
"I want perfection."
He clapped loudly.
I flinched.
"Let me give you your partners."
Oh no.
No no no—
He scanned us like he was choosing players for a game none of us signed up for.
Then he smirked.
"Emma and Liam."
Emma blinked, then smiled—a little too happily.
Liam, however, leaned back slightly. "Oh… this is… great."
"You sound like you're in pain," I whispered.
"I am," he whispered back.
"Regina and Mark."
I froze.
Of course.
Regina's face lit up like someone had just handed her the crown early.
She turned slightly toward Mark, already smiling like they were in a romance movie.
Mark, on the other hand, adjusted his glasses and looked like he was calculating his escape route.
His eyes flickered toward me for a second—
Then away.
And then—
"Ayana and Ethan."
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"Wait—what?" I said under my breath.
Ethan didn't react.
Of course he didn't.
He just stood there like someone had paused his emotions mid-loading.
I glanced at Regina again.
She was already leaning slightly toward Mark, laughing softly at something he didn't say.
I felt something twist in my chest.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
I turned to Ethan and nudged him. "You're not going to say anything?"
He slowly looked at me.
"I don't do unnecessary talking."
Flat. Calm. Emotionless.
I stared at him.
"…I got paired with a wall," I muttered.
"I heard that," he replied.
"Good."
He blinked once.
"I only speak when necessary."
I crossed my arms. "So what? You're going to stand there during the performance and just vibe?"
"If that's required," he said calmly.
I let out a short laugh. "Wow. This is going to be painful."
Mr. Rick clapped again. "Practice!"
We split into pairs.
Emma immediately turned to Liam. "We should rehearse seriously."
Liam leaned closer. "Or… we could improvise and become legends."
Emma sighed. "You're impossible."
"I've been told," he grinned.
Across the stage—
Regina.
Mark.
She stepped closer to him, tilting her head slightly.
"So," she said softly, "looks like we're partners."
Mark nodded. "Seems like it."
"You don't sound excited."
"I'm… focused."
She smiled. "You don't have to pretend around me."
He adjusted his glasses again. "I'm not pretending."
Her smile didn't drop—but her eyes sharpened just a little.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Meanwhile—
Me.
And Mr. Emotionless.
Ethan stood there, staring at the ceiling like he was waiting for divine intervention.
I waved a hand in front of his face.
Nothing.
"Hello? Earth to Ethan?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Are you alive?"
"Yes."
"Barely."
He ignored that.
"What's the script?" he asked.
I held it up. "You're supposed to be some mysterious guy who barely talks."
He nodded. "That works."
I stared at him.
"…you're not even trying."
"I am."
"No, you're not."
He looked at me again—longer this time.
"You talk too much."
I gasped. "Excuse me?"
"It's inefficient."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, placing a hand on my chest dramatically. "Next time I'll communicate in Morse code."
"That would be quieter."
I stared at him for a full second.
Then—
I laughed.
"I can't believe this is my life."
He didn't smile.
But—
For a split second—
His eyes softened.
Time passed.
Voices echoed.
Footsteps creaked.
And somehow, despite the chaos—
Something was building.
Tension.
Rivalry.
Something bigger than just a school competition.
And far away from the laughter…
Far from the stage lights and petty arguments—
Darkness.
Thick.
Heavy.
A room hidden from the world.
The walls were stained, marked by time and something far worse.
A single candle flickered weakly, its light trembling against the shadows that refused to leave.
The air was suffocating.
Damp wood.
Smoke.
And something metallic.
In the center stood a man.
Tall. Lean. Dangerous.
His black hair was slicked back, a scar cutting sharply along his jaw.
His eyes—
Cold.
Calculating.
"Sir…" he said, voice low.
"They're becoming a problem."
Silence.
"They've taken down ten of our men in Blackthorn Alley."
His hands clenched slightly.
"They're not just interfering anymore. They're hunting us."
A pause.
Then—
A voice from the shadows.
"I know."
Calm.
Too calm.
"There is one weakness."
The man lifted his head slightly.
"That girl."
A photograph slid across the table.
Ayana.
Smiling.
Unaware.
"They will protect her," the voice continued. "No matter what."
The man picked up the photo.
Studied it.
"So we use her."
Silence thickened.
"If we take her… they come to us."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"And then?"
The voice darkened.
"We end them."
The candle flickered violently.
The man nodded slowly.
"Yes… sir."
He turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut.
And the darkness swallowed the room again.
A low laugh echoed.
Cold.
Empty.
"They think they're heroes…"
A gloved hand tightened around the photograph.
"Ayana…"
A whisper.
Sharp.
Deadly.
"You're the key."
The shadows deepened.
"And the reason they fall."
Back at school—
I sneezed.
"Wow," Liam said from across the stage. "That sounded dramatic."
"Shut up," I muttered.
But for a second—
Just a second—
I felt something.
A chill.
Like someone had just walked over my grave.
Ethan glanced at me.
"You okay?"
I frowned slightly.
"…yeah."
But my voice wasn't as sure as I wanted it to be.
And for the first time—
Ethan didn't look away immediately.
He kept watching.
Like he knew—
Something was coming.