Keifer's POV
The dawn didn't break over Hell University; it bled. A pale, sickly grey light filtered through the reinforced glass of the private lounge, illuminating the wreckage of the night before.
I hadn't slept. My back was against the mahogany arm of the sofa, my hand resting on the hilt of a blade I didn't remember drawing, and my eyes were fixed on the girl curled into my side.
Jay-jay.
She looked so small. The "Executioner" who had stood in Madam Violet's office—the woman with the obsidian eyes and the steady, murderous hands—had vanished the moment the doors closed.
In her place was this: a girl with matted hair, smelling of copper and expensive cologne, breathing in short, jagged hitches that told me her subconscious was still fighting the ghosts of the warehouse.
"Jay," I whispered. My voice was a wreck, a low, tectonic rumble that felt foreign in the quiet room.
Her eyelids flickered. For a split second, I saw that terrifying, blank void return—the "subject" reacting to a stimulus. My heart skipped a beat. I didn't want the weapon. I wanted the girl.
"It's me. It's Keifer," I said, my voice hardening with an anchor-like steadying force.
The void cracked. Her brown eyes regained their depth, focusing on my jaw, then my eyes. She let out a long, shuddering breath and slumped back against me, her forehead thumping against my collarbone.
"My head feels like it was used as a soccer ball for the Varsity team," she croaked. "And my mouth tastes like I chewed on a penny."
I let out a breath I'd been holding since the warehouse. The relief was so sharp it felt like a physical blow. I shifted, my numb arm finally tingling back to life. "That would be the adrenaline crash. And the iron. You... remembered what happened last night, Jay."
She pulled back, looking at her hands. They were clean—I had personally wiped the blood away while she drifted in and out of her trauma-induced sleep—but she stared at them as if she could still see the stains.
"I remember the lights, Keifer," she whispered. "The way they clicked. Like they were counting down. And then... I didn't feel cold anymore. I just felt... efficient."
I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Listen to me. I don't care what they triggered. I don't care about the 'Mariano' blood or whatever you said to Violet. You are Jay-jay. You're the girl who gets excited about cheap snacks and fails basic math. If they try to turn you into a weapon, I'll dismantle the armory. Do you hear me?"
She blinked, a small, lopsided smile finally touching her lips. "I don't fail all my math, Keifer. Just the parts with numbers."
The tension in the room didn't disappear—it was too heavy for that—but it thinned. It became breathable.
"I'll buy you a calculator," I muttered, brushing a stray hair from her face. "A gold-plated one. Just stay on this side of the line."
"Finally," Percy grumbled, though his eyes were bright with relief. "I was about to start charging you rent for staying in dreamland so long. You snore, Jay. It's like a chainsaw and a pug had a baby."
She threw a decorative silk pillow at his head. "I do not snore! I breathe... enthusiastically.
"Good morning ,Jay.Are you all right??",Vannesa and Freya asked .
"I feel like I got hit by a bus. Then the bus reversed to check if I was okay, and hit me again. But other than that? I'm starving. Is it legal to eat the furniture in this school?", She replied.
"Jay don't eat furniture,they are not tasty",Cin and Felix said.
"Jay you look terrible",Mia said checking her.
"Your hair looks like a bird's nest. A very disorganized bird's nest."Edrix said
"Hey!" she chirped, throwing a stray cushion at my face. "It's called 'trauma-chic.' Look it up."
Finally the tension of last night settling in the room. And filled with teasing
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Ace's POV
I stood by the window, the cold glass pressed against my forehead. My shoulder was screaming, a dull, rhythmic throb that reminded me I wasn't as invincible as the Watson name suggested. But the physical pain was a distraction from the mental loop: Jay-jay's face as she held that knife to Violet.
I don't do jokes. I don't do "lighthearted." My life has been a series of tactical assessments and calculated risks. And right now, the calculation was simple: Jay-jay was the most dangerous variable in this school, and she was also the only person I'd burn my inheritance to protect.
I heard her wake up. I heard Keifer's low rumble. I didn't turn around immediately. I needed my face to be a mask of neutrality before I faced her.
"You are conscious," I said, my voice cold and clipped. I finally turned, crossing my arms over my chest. "Status report, Jay-jay. Are you ok? Is your vision blurred? Do you feel any sudden urges to assassinate your friends?"
Jay-jay rolled her eyes, leaning back into the pillows Keifer had piled around her. "Good morning to you too, Thunderpuff. I feel like crap, thanks for asking. My vision is fine, but my urge to kick your shin is currently at an all-time high."
I gave a sharp look which she ignored. I walked over and stood at the foot of the sofa. I didn't smile—I never did—but I looked her dead in the eye. "Don't ever go dark like that again. If you lose control, you become a liability. And I don't like liabilities."
"I'm not a liability, Ace," she whispered, her voice losing its edge. "I'm just... scared
"Don't be," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "That's what we're here for. You do the eating and the complaining. We do the worrying."
The door opened, and Zein stepped in. She was carrying a tray of coffee and a few wrapped sandwiches. She looked like she hadn't slept either, her usual poise traded for a weary, haunted look.
"Coffee," she said, her voice small.
She walked toward me first. As she handed me a mug, our fingers brushed. It was a half-second of contact, but it felt like a tactical breach.
My heart, usually a steady, mechanical throb, skipped a beat. I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the way her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks.
"Thanks, Zein," I said, my voice sounding rougher than I intended.
"You're welcome, Ace," she whispered. She didn't move away.
For a moment, the room felt like it was shrinking, the air between us becoming charged with a tension that had nothing to do with the Mariano experiment and everything to do with the way she was looking at me.
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Jay-jay's POV
I watched Ace and Zein from my nest of blankets, and for a moment, the heavy weight of the "Executioner" felt like a distant memory. This was much more interesting.
Ace was standing there like a statue that had accidentally been plugged into an electric socket, and Zein looked like she was trying to memorize the pattern of his shirt.
"breath catching in my throat.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," I interrupted, leaning over the back of the sofa. "Are you two going to kiss or am I going to have to throw my coffee at you to break the tension? You're staring at her like she's a rare Pokémon, Ace."
"Jay-jay!" Zein squeaked, looking like she wanted the floor to swallow her.
"They're like two magnets that are too shy to click."I said shouldering Keifer.
"Jay-jay, stop it," Zein stammered, finally pulling her hand back and busying herself with the tray. Her face was flushed a deep, beautiful pink.
"I'm just saying!" I laughed, feeling a spark of my old self returning. "Ace acts like he's made of ice, but I think he's melting. It's messy. There's a puddle on the floor, Ace."
"I am not melting," Ace snapped, though he finally sat down in the armchair, his movements unusually stiff. "I am exhausted. There is a difference."
"Sure, sure," I teased.
Keifer stood up then, his presence immediately pulling the room back to reality. "The argument is stopped now. Jay you need rest . So sleep. No arguments."
"Fine. I will not you all will also join ",they nodded.
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Author's POV
The exhaustion was a physical entity in the room. Even with the coffee, the "crash" from the previous night's trauma was inevitable.
By early afternoon, the sun had moved, casting long, golden fingers across the lounge. Keifer had finally succumbed, falling asleep on the far end of the sectional. His sharp features were relaxed, but his hand was still draped over Jay-jay's ankles, a subconscious tether.
Ace, the serious, stoic Supremo ,was out cold in the armchair. His arms were crossed, his head tilted back against the leather, his breathing deep and even. He looked younger when he was asleep—less like a soldier and more like a boy carrying too much weight.
Zein was curled up on the rug at the base of the sofa, her head resting on her arms, dozing fitfully.
Jay-jay, however, was wide awake. The "Mariano blood" or perhaps just the sheer, stubborn hyperactivity of her personality had kicked in. She felt a strange buzz in her fingertips. She looked at her "protectors" and felt a wave of affection so strong it made her chest ache.
Then, she saw the black permanent marker on the side table.
She looked at Zein, who had just blinked her eyes open. Zein looked at Jay-jay, then at the sleeping boys, and a silent, wicked understanding passed between them.
"Jay, no," Zein whispered, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Ace will actually murder us. He doesn't have a sense of humor. He has a sense of 'justice'."
"He won't murder us," Jay-jay hissed back, already reaching for the pen. "He'll just... write us a very sternly worded letter. Besides, Keifer looks too handsome. It's distracting. He needs a flaw."
Jay-jay crept off the sofa like a ninja. She went to Ace first. She held her breath as she leaned over him. With the precision of an artist, she drew a curly, ridiculous handlebar moustache on his upper lip. She added a tiny, pointed goatee and a small "X" on his forehead.
Ace didn't move. He just snored once, a low, rumbling sound.
Then, she moved to Keifer. This was the boss battle. She gave him a thick, bushy "monopoly man" moustache and two very angry, slanted eyebrows that made him look like he was fuming even in his sleep.
The two girls retreated to the corner of the room, clutching each other and shaking with silent, hysterical laughter.
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Keifer's POV
I woke up to a sound I didn't recognize. It wasn't a scream, and it wasn't the sound of a blade. It was a high-pitched, muffled wheezing.
I opened my eyes. My "angry eyebrows" shifted, but I didn't know that yet. I saw Jay-jay and Zein huddled together on the floor, their faces purple as they tried to suppress screams of laughter.
I sat up, my gaze immediately going to Jay-jay. "What did you do?"
Ace jolted awake at the sound of my voice. "What happened!" he barked, his hand flying to his empty holster.
Jay-jay pointed a shaking finger at us. "The... the situation is... very serious, Ace! You look... you look so distinguished!"
I frowned, feeling a strange, dry texture on my upper lip. I looked at Ace.
The serious, cold face was sitting there with a curly handlebar moustache and a goatee that made him look like a villain from a silent movie.
"Ace," I said, my voice deadpan. "You have something on your face."
"So do you," Ace replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked at my "angry" eyebrows.
Just then, Ci-N walked in. He took one look at us and dropped the bag of chips he was holding. He let out a bark of laughter so loud it probably reached the administrative wing.
"OH MY GOD!" Ci-N howled, doubling over and slapping his knee. "Keifer! Ace! You guys look... you look like you're about to start a barbershop quartet! Is this Phase Three of the experiment?"
Ace and I both stood up and walked over to the reflection in the window.
A silence louder than a gunshot filled the room.
"JAY-JAY!" Ace roared, his "serious" persona finally shattering.
"RUN!" Jay-jay yelled, bolting for the door.
She was fast, but Ace was faster. He predicted her zig-zag path and cut her off at the heavy double doors, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back.
"Got you!" Ace shouted, a rare, genuine grin breaking through the ink on his face.
I walked toward her, the black marker held firmly in my hand. Jay-jay was squirming, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"No! Keifer!" she pleaded.
"The Matriarch needs to match her generals," I whispered, leaning in until our noses almost touched.
Despite her protests, I carefully drew a thin, elegant French moustache on her upper lip, complete with little curled-up ends.
"Perfect," I said, stepping back.
Jay-jay ran to the window, seeing her own reflection. She turned back to us, her face a mess of ink and joy.
Ace moved toward Zein saying , "You saw her still you didn't stop her. Time for your punishment ".
He drew a moustache on her face too while jay hold Zein . We all brust into laughter .
For the first time since Hell University had tried to claim her, she looked like she was winning.
The Watsons, the Marianos, the experiments—none of it mattered as much as the sound of their laughter echoing through the halls of Hell.