Rose screamed as she yanked Isabel's hair violently, dragging her forward.
Isabel stumbled, nearly falling.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to pry Rose's hand away—
But Rose only pulled harder, her face twisted with fury.
"She's a witch!" Rose shrieked. "She's a witch!"
The words spread through the village like poison.
Zach rushed out of the house, pushing through the growing crowd.
Villagers gathered quickly, drawn by the chaos.
He reached them and forcefully tore Rose's hand away from Isabel.
"What did my wife do to you, Rose?" he demanded, his voice hard.
"Yes, what did she do?" a woman asked, stepping forward.
"I heard she killed Bubu," someone from the back shouted.
The crowd stirred.
"His body was found in the forest this morning," another voice added. "Drained… completely drained."
A woman covered her mouth. "He was just a child…"
"She must be evil."
"She's cursed."
"She's a demon."
The accusations rose, sharp and merciless.
"I didn't kill anyone," Isabel said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that made people uncomfortable.
"She doesn't even look sorry," someone muttered.
"Look at her… standing there like nothing happened."
"You've heard them, Zach!" Rose snapped. "Your wife is a witch! Why do you keep protecting her?"
Her voice trembled with rage.
"You know nothing about her! No past, no family, no history—nothing! And yesterday, that boy only poured water on her by mistake…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"And now he's dead."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Cold.
Then—
"Crucify her!"
The shout came from the crowd.
Another voice joined.
"Crucify her!"
Then more.
"Crucify her!"
"Crucify her!"
The chant grew louder.
Relentless.
Zach's grip on Isabel tightened.
No… this is madness.
But a thought crept in—
Unwanted.
What if…?
He turned to her slowly.
"Did you kill the boy?"
For the first time—
Something flickered in Isabel's eyes.
Pain.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Pain.
"No," she said softly. "I didn't kill anyone."
Zach held her gaze.
Searching.
Then he turned back to the crowd.
"You all heard her," he said firmly. "My wife didn't kill anyone."
His voice cut through the noise.
"If you believe she is a witch, then bring proof."
His eyes swept across them.
"Otherwise, I'll drag every one of you to court for defamation."
The crowd fell into uneasy murmurs.
No one stepped forward.
No proof.
Only fear.
"Don't regret this, Zach," Rose said coldly.
He didn't respond.
One by one, the villagers left.
But their stares remained—
Suspicious.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
And even after they were gone…
The accusation lingered.
Like a stain.
_____________________________________
____________________
Clover stood before the mirror, trying to fix her hair.
For once—
She cared.
I can't look like a disaster today… not in front of Dave.
She paused.
Her reflection stared back.
Then—
She froze.
Her eyes.
They weren't emerald.
They were—
Purple.
Bright.
Unnatural.
Her breath caught.
She blinked—
And they were normal again.
Green.
Familiar.
Safe.
Clover stared.
No… I saw that.
A nervous laugh slipped out.
"I'm hallucinating now," she muttered.
First dreams. Then missing time. Now this?
Her grip tightened on the dresser.
What is happening to me?
She forced herself to move.
After breakfast, she headed to school.
But something felt… off.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
She was supposed to go to class.
Instead—
She found herself at the pool.
She stopped.
Frowning.
How did I get here?
She didn't remember deciding to come.
It was like—
Her body had chosen for her.
Weird.
She sat down slowly.
"Skipping class?"
The voice was smooth.
Low.
Dangerous.
Clover turned—
And froze.
What… is that?
He was—
Too perfect.
Too sharp.
Too unreal.
If Dave was attractive—
This man was something else entirely.
The kind of beauty that felt dangerous.
Unfair.
His black hair rested slightly messy on his forehead.
His body—
Muscular.
Defined.
Bare chest exposed, water still clinging to his skin.
Clover swallowed.
Why am I staring? Stop staring!
"Hi…" she said before she could stop herself.
He smiled slightly.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
"Have we met before?" she asked.
"Yes."
He leaned back lazily.
"At the walkway. You didn't notice me."
Clover frowned.
"Notice you?"
A smug look appeared on his face.
"I'm surprised. My face usually gets attention."
She blinked.
Did he just… praise himself?
"I'm not impressed," she said flatly.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
Confident.
Dangerous.
"I'm Dylan," he said, extending his hand.
"And you are?"
Clover stood abruptly.
"I don't shake hands with narcissists," she snapped. "And you're not that handsome."
Why did I say that?!
But she turned and walked away anyway.
Behind her—
Silence.
Then—
Her foot slipped.
Everything happened at once.
Cold water swallowed her whole.
She plunged into the pool.
Panic exploded.
I can't swim.
Her arms flailed.
Water filled her mouth.
Her lungs burned.
"Help—!"
Through blurred vision—
She saw him.
Standing.
Watching.
Is he serious?!
"Save me!" she choked.
"I only save pretty ladies," Dylan said lazily.
Laughter echoed from somewhere nearby.
This idiot… I'm going to die because of this idiot—
Her strength faded.
Darkness crept in.
Then—
Splash.
Strong arms wrapped around her.
Pulled her up.
Air hit her lungs.
She gasped violently.
Dylan looked down at her.
Amused.
"If you keep staring at me like that," he murmured, "you'll go back in."
I hate him.
He pulled her out of the pool.
She coughed, dragging in breath after breath.
"Be grateful," he said. "I saved you."
Something snapped.
Clover shoved him hard.
Splash.
He fell back into the pool.
Silence.
Then—
She smiled.
"Mercy," she muttered.
And ran.
She sat at the pavilion, soaked and shaking.
That was so embarrassing…
"Hey."
She looked up.
Dave.
Concern filled his eyes.
He draped his jacket over her shoulders.
Warm.
Gentle.
Safe.
"How did you get wet?" he asked.
"I slipped," she muttered.
He frowned. "Be careful."
Silence followed.
Soft.
Comfortable.
"Are you free this weekend?" he asked.
Clover blinked.
"Why?"
"We could hang out."
She tilted her head.
"Are you asking me out?"
Why am I like this?!
Dave chuckled.
"You're direct."
"You didn't answer."
His smile softened.
"You asked me for lunch. I'm just returning the offer."
Oh.
Oh no.
She forgot.
"Then… it's a date," he said.
Her heart skipped.
But—
Why am I thinking about that idiot instead…?
Later
Clover stood in her messy room.
Clothes everywhere.
Why is this so hard? It's just clothes!
A knock.
Helen entered—
And froze.
"Are you going on a date?" she asked.
"And how is that your business?" Clover snapped.
Instant regret.
Why did I say that…?
Helen's expression softened.
"I just wanted to help."
Guilt twisted inside Clover.
"I don't need it," she muttered.
Helen nodded and left.
Silence.
Heavy.
Clover stared at the door.
…I messed up.
After a long pause—
She stood.
Walked to Helen's room.
Knocked.
The door opened.
Clover hesitated.
"Um…"
Her mind went blank.
Helen smiled gently.
Like she already understood.
"Come in."
_______________________
___________
Back at the pool—
Dylan climbed out slowly, water dripping from his body.
His expression had changed.
No longer amused.
No longer playful.
His crimson-brown eyes darkened slightly.
He stared in the direction Clover had run.
She pushed me…
Silence.
Then—
A slow smile curved his lips.
Not normal.
Not human.
Dangerous.
"Interesting," he murmured.
For the first time in a thousand years…
Something had touched him.