The noise from the excursion didn't die the next day.
It carried.
Through the hallways.
Through conversations.
Through every group of students still reliving moments from the museum and the waterfall.
"Bro I told you that water almost dragged me!"
"You didn't even go close!"
"I did!"
"You slipped, that's what you did!"
Laughter echoed.
Normal.
Loud.
Alive.
But Aria wasn't part of it.
She walked through the hallway quietly, her bag hanging off one shoulder, her expression distant.
Her mind wasn't here.
It was still at the museum.
That section.
Radiation.
Mutation.
And that—
Restricted hallway.
"…something wasn't right," she muttered.
"Aria?"
Ella's voice pulled her back.
She blinked.
"…hm?"
"You've been quiet since yesterday," Ella said gently.
Mira popped up from the side.
"Yeah, what happened to 'cool Aria'? Don't tell me the mysterious boy broke your brain."
Aria rolled her eyes.
"…you talk too much."
"Deflection," Mira said. "Confirmed."
"I'm serious," Aria said, lowering her voice slightly. "That museum… did you not feel anything off?"
Ella hesitated.
"…I mean, the restricted area was weird."
"Exactly," Aria said.
Mira shrugged.
"Places like that always have restricted zones. Doesn't mean anything."
Aria frowned.
"…maybe."
But it didn't feel like "maybe."
It felt like something she was missing.
Something important.
Her eyes moved—
And landed on him.
Dylan.
Same as always.
Quiet.
Walking like the world didn't touch him.
Her gaze narrowed slightly.
"…and him too."
Mira followed her line of sight and smirked.
"Ohhh here we go again."
"I'm not doing anything," Aria said quickly.
"You are," Mira replied. "You're thinking."
"That's normal."
"Not like this."
Ella looked between them.
"…what is it this time?"
Aria hesitated.
Then—
"…don't you think he's… off?"
Mira burst out laughing.
"You've upgraded from 'weird' to 'off' now?"
"I'm serious," Aria insisted.
Ella glanced at Dylan.
He was at his locker now, moving calmly, unbothered by the noise around him.
"…he is… quiet," Ella admitted.
"That's not normal quiet," Aria said. "It's like… he's always aware of everything."
Mira folded her arms.
"So what, he's a ninja now?"
Aria didn't respond.
Because even she knew how it sounded.
But still—
"…there's something about him."
And she couldn't shake it.
—
Break time came.
Students filled the courtyard, laughter and conversations spreading everywhere.
Aria sat with Ella and Mira, but her attention kept drifting.
"…you're doing it again," Mira said.
"I'm not—"
"You are."
Aria sighed.
"…okay, fine. I'm thinking."
Ella smiled slightly.
"…about him?"
"…among other things."
Mira leaned forward.
"Go talk to him again."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"…you're annoying."
Before Mira could reply—
Aria stood up.
"…I'll go get water."
"Sure you will," Mira muttered.
—
She didn't go to get water.
Not immediately.
Her steps slowed as she spotted him again.
Dylan.
Standing alone near the edge of the courtyard.
Like always.
She hesitated.
Then walked over.
"…you're always by yourself."
He glanced at her.
"…you again."
"…wow, you remember me."
"You ask too many questions."
She crossed her arms slightly.
"…and you answer too little."
A pause.
Then—
"…what do you want?" he asked.
Aria shrugged.
"…nothing."
"Then don't come."
"…you're actually serious."
"Yes."
She stared at him.
Then—
"…do you ever get tired?" she asked suddenly.
He looked at her.
"…no."
That answer—
Was too quick.
Too flat.
Her brows furrowed.
"…that's not normal."
"It works."
"…what does that even mean?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked away slightly.
Conversation over.
Aria exhaled.
"…you're impossible."
"I've been told."
She shook her head.
"…whatever."
But as she turned—
She glanced back.
Just once.
And he was already looking somewhere else.
Like she was never there.
"…weird," she muttered.
—
Dylan left the courtyard soon after.
Not because of her.
Because he always did.
He walked out of the school gates, his steps steady, controlled.
But this time—
His mind wasn't quiet.
She was noticing more.
Asking more.
Getting closer.
Not to the truth.
But close enough to be dangerous.
"…I need to be careful," he muttered.
He adjusted his hoodie slightly and continued walking.
Toward home.
—
The apartment looked the same.
Old.
Silent.
Heavy.
He stepped inside.
"…I'm back."
No answer.
His eyes shifted instantly.
"…mom?"
He moved quickly now.
Into the living area.
She was there.
On the couch.
But—
Something was wrong.
Her breathing.
Too slow.
Too weak.
"…mom."
He stepped closer.
Her eyes opened slightly.
"…Dylan…"
Relief hit him.
But it didn't stay long.
"…did you take your medication?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
"…you didn't."
"I… forgot."
His jaw tightened.
"…you can't forget."
"I know…"
"Where is it?"
She didn't answer.
He looked around.
Table.
Drawers.
Empty.
His chest tightened.
"…we're out."
Silence.
That was worse.
"…I'll get more," he said quickly.
"You don't have to—"
"I do."
Before she could argue—
"Big bro?"
His sister stood at the doorway, holding a book.
"…is mom okay?"
Dylan forced his voice steady.
"She's fine."
"…are you sure?"
"Yes."
She stepped closer slowly.
"…you said you'd help me with homework."
He paused.
Just for a second.
Then nodded.
"…I will. Later."
She looked at him.
Then at their mother.
Then back at him.
"…okay."
She didn't argue.
But she understood.
More than she should.
—
Later—
Dylan stood in a small pharmacy.
Counting money.
Quiet.
Careful.
The cashier watched him.
"…that's not enough," the man said.
Dylan's grip tightened slightly.
"…I'll come back."
He turned.
Walked out.
No anger.
No frustration.
Just—
Silence.
Heavy.
Cold.
—
Night came again.
And with it—
The other life.
Dylan stood on the rooftop.
Now—
VEX.
Mask on.
Armor set.
Pain still there.
Ignored.
A presence landed behind him.
"You're late."
Aria.
"…you're early," he replied.
She crossed her arms.
"…you don't rest, do you?"
"No."
"…you're going to collapse one day."
"Not today."
She frowned slightly.
"…you're annoying."
"And you talk too much."
She almost smiled.
Then—
"…you push yourself too hard," she said.
"It's necessary."
"For what?"
He didn't answer.
That—
Annoyed her.
"…you always do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like nothing matters."
A pause.
Then—
"…because hesitation gets people killed," he said.
Her expression shifted.
"…so that's it?"
"Yes."
"That's a terrible way to live."
"It works."
She stared at him.
"…you're impossible."
"I've been told."
Silence.
Then—
"Again," he said.
They moved.
Training.
Harder this time.
Faster.
Sharper.
Aria attacked—
He blocked—
Countered—
Corrected.
"Too slow."
"I'm not slow."
"You hesitated."
"I didn't—"
"You did."
She gritted her teeth.
"…fine."
Again.
Faster now.
Stronger.
She pushed.
He matched.
Even injured—
Still precise.
Still controlled.
"…you're holding back," she said.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"Then stop treating me like I'll break!"
A pause.
Then—
He didn't hold back.
Next move—
Faster.
Sharper.
She barely blocked.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…okay—!"
"Focus."
"I am focused!"
"No. You're emotional."
"…you're the problem!"
"And you're distracted."
That hit.
She froze for a second.
Then attacked again.
Harder.
More controlled this time.
He blocked.
Then—
"…better," he said.
She blinked.
"…was that a compliment?"
"It was an observation."
She exhaled.
"…you're unbelievable."
But something in her chest—
Shifted.
Again.
—
Far away—
A screen lit up.
Dr Blanc stood before it.
Cold.
Calm.
Watching.
"…public reaction patterns are stabilizing," he said.
Behind him—
Slander stood.
Silent.
Still.
"…we move to the next phase," Dr Blanc continued.
A small pause.
Then—
"The boy is becoming a variable."
Slander didn't react.
But his gaze shifted slightly.
"…he won't stop," Dr Blanc said.
Silence.
Then—
A low voice.
"…I know."
—
Later that night—
Dylan walked home.
Tired.
Quiet.
His phone buzzed.
He stopped.
Looked at it.
Unknown number.
A message.
He opened it.
And read.
His expression didn't change.
But his grip tightened slightly.
Stay away from the facility… or your family suffers.
Silence.
The city noise faded.
Everything—
Felt still.
For a moment.
Then—
He locked the phone.
Looked ahead.
Eyes colder now.
Sharper.
"…so it starts," he muttered.
And somewhere in the distance—
Something was already moving.
Closer.
Faster.
Waiting.
For everything—
To break.