Vince POV

Headquarters pulsed with noise—boots striking pavement in perfect rhythm, commands slicing through the air, the sharp crack of gunfire echoing from the training grounds. Every soldier moved with purpose.

I was in the middle of a marching drill when my name cut through the chaos.

"Sergeant Vince—report to the captain. Now."

I broke formation without hesitation.

By the time I reached the main building, sweat clung to my skin, my uniform damp and heavy, dust coating my combat boots. I didn't bother changing. There wasn't time—and even if there was, it wouldn't matter. A soldier doesn't complain about discomfort. You learn early that survival doesn't care about appearances.

I paused outside the captain's office, steadying my breath before raising my hand.

Knock. Knock.

"Sergeant Vince reporting, Captain."

"Come in."

The door opened with a quiet creak. I stepped inside and snapped into a salute.

Captain Sofia sat behind her desk, composed as always. To the left, Kate and Dave lounged on the couch like they owned the place.

"At ease, Vince," she said.

"I'm just following protocol, Captain."

A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained sharp—calculating, always thinking ten steps ahead.

Captain Sofia wasn't just any commanding officer. She was the youngest captain in the country's history—a battlefield prodigy, a strategist who had never once failed a mission.

And a princess.

She gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. "Sit."

I obeyed.

She slid a thin envelope across the table. The moment it touched my hands, something in my chest tightened—an instinct I couldn't explain.

Inside was a student profile. A photograph.

A girl.

"She's Mia Garcia," Captain Sofia began. "First-year student at BHNS. Officially, she's the daughter of a civilian couple."

She paused.

"Unofficially… she's the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Mendiola."

Everything inside me went still.

The name hit harder than any bullet.

"They were part of our research division," she continued. "After the laboratory explosion, she was the only survivor. Severe trauma resulted in complete memory loss. The government constructed a new identity for her—new records, new family, a new life."

I stared at the photograph.

A normal girl. Soft expression. Unaware of the storm surrounding her.

The Mendiolas… had a daughter?

My grip tightened on the file.

They were the ones who took me in. Fed me. Trained me. Treated me like I was something more than a weapon.

And yet… they never mentioned her.

Why?

"To protect her," I muttered under my breath.

Captain Sofia's gaze flickered, as if she'd heard.

"Starting tomorrow, you will enroll at BHNS as her classmate," she said. "Sergeant Major Kate and Sergeant Dave will accompany you, posing as your guardians."

I glanced at them.

Dave gave me a lazy grin. Kate simply nodded—calm, but alert as ever.

"Your mission is simple," Sofia continued. "Protect her."

Simple.

Right.

"We've intercepted intel suggesting enemy interest in the girl. We don't yet know why—but whatever she carries, they want it badly."

Her voice lowered.

"And we cannot let them have it."

A brief silence filled the room.

Then—

"Your transport is waiting. Everything has been prepared. Move immediately."

We rose in unison.

"Yes, ma'am."

The aircraft hummed steadily as it cut through the sky.

Dave stretched his arms behind his head, completely at ease.

"Man… living under one roof with Kate?" he said, grinning. "This mission just got interesting. Don't worry, darling—I'll be the perfect husband."

Kate didn't even look at him.

"Say one more word and I'll throw you out of this plane."

Dave laughed. "Careful. You might miss me."

"In your dreams."

Their bickering filled the cabin, loud and relentless.

I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes.

Annoying… but familiar.

On the battlefield, they moved like one mind in two bodies—Dave, the flawless sniper; Kate, a ghost in close combat. Fifteen years of fighting side by side had turned them into something unbreakable.

Noise and all… they were reliable.

The kind of people you trusted with your life.

The apartment was already prepared when we arrived.

I stepped inside without waiting for the others, their argument fading behind me.

The place looked ordinary at first glance—modern furniture, clean lines, nothing suspicious.

But appearances lie.

I found my room quickly.

My name was printed neatly on the door.

Inside, the illusion shattered.

Weapons. Surveillance monitors. Tactical equipment.

A full security system, all focused on one location.

Mia.

I approached the window.

And there she was.

Standing on her balcony, laughing softly as she played with a small cat in her arms. The evening light wrapped around her, gentle and warm.

She looked… normal.

Too normal.

Like she didn't belong anywhere near this world of blood and secrets.

"Mia…" I murmured.

"What are you hiding?"

Something twisted in my chest.

A strange, unfamiliar ache.

The last time I felt anything like it…

…was when I first started remembering what it meant to feel human.

General Sofia POV

"I'm worried."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I leaned forward, pressing my fingers against my temples as exhaustion crept in.

Lieutenant General Daniel stood quietly nearby. "Sergeant Vince is strong, ma'am. This mission will help him grow."

"That's not what I'm afraid of."

I lifted my head.

For a moment, I wasn't a general. Not a strategist. Not a princess.

Just… someone uncertain.

"I'm afraid of what this mission will awaken in him."

Silence settled heavily in the room.

Major General Henry placed a document on my desk. "We'll be monitoring them closely."

I glanced down.

Vince's school registration form.

A normal life—on paper.

"Make a donation to the school," I said quietly.

Henry blinked. "Ma'am?"

A faint smile crossed my lips.

"I have a feeling… our sergeant is about to experience something new."

Something dangerous.

"Understood."

He left the room.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes… I wonder what my life would have been like without this gift.

Would I have gone to school?

Made friends?

Lived… normally?

A soft exhale escaped me.

No.

This is the life I was given.

And because of it…

I found people worth protecting.

"Stay safe, Vince," I whispered.

Chapter 2 — The Distance Between Dreams

Mia's POV

The night sky stretched endlessly above me, scattered with quiet, distant stars.

I leaned against the balcony railing, gently stroking Carotin's soft fur as she purred beneath my touch.

Moments like this were peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Because whenever everything became quiet…

The same question returned.

What kind of life did I have before?

Two years ago, after the accident, it felt like I had been born again—placed into a world I didn't recognize, surrounded by people I was told I once knew.

A life that was supposed to be mine.

But felt like someone else's.

Flashback

The first thing I remembered was the ceiling.

White.

Blinding.

Unfamiliar.

Then—

A woman.

She sat beside me, crying.

Her eyes were swollen, red, exhausted—as if she hadn't slept in days.

Who is she…?

My head throbbed violently as I tried to make sense of everything.

Pain pulsed through me, sharp and relentless.

The moment she noticed I was awake, she pressed a button beside the bed.

"Doctor! She's awake!"

Moments later, people rushed in—voices overlapping, movements urgent.

A man stepped forward.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Jansen. I'm here to check on you. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?"

Name…?

Birthday…?

I stared at the ceiling again.

Blank.

Empty.

Nothing came.

"I… I don't know."

The words felt heavy leaving my mouth.

The room fell silent.

The doctors exchanged glances.

And that silence—

It made everything worse.

Who am I?

Why am I here?

My thoughts spiraled, but the pain in my head surged stronger, drowning everything else.

My hand moved instinctively to my forehead—

Bandages.

"It hurts…"

Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.

Machines around me began to beep rapidly.

"Vitals are dropping—"

"Stabilize her—"

Voices blurred.

The world tilted.

Then—

Darkness.

When I woke again, everything felt quieter.

Calmer.

The pain had dulled.

"It's good that she regained consciousness," a doctor said nearby. "That's a positive sign."

I turned slightly.

"Excuse me…" My voice was weak. "Where am I…? What am I doing here?"

The same woman rushed to my side and took my hand.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered.

Later, the doctors explained everything.

The accident.

The injury.

The memory loss.

They said my memories might return someday.

But in that moment…

I didn't know how to feel.

A person without memories—

Was like being born again.

Except I wasn't a child.

And I was expected to understand everything.

That was when I learned the truth.

The woman beside me—

Was my mother.

She held my hand and told me everything would be alright.

And I believed her.

Because I had nothing else to hold on to.

Back to Present

Time passed.

Slowly at first.

Then easier.

My parents never pressured me.

They didn't force me to remember.

Instead, they gave me something else—

Patience.

Care.

Love.

We moved to a new place for a fresh start. They didn't want me overwhelmed by things I couldn't recognize.

I even asked for old photographs once.

Hoping something would trigger a memory.

But nothing did.

Just emptiness.

Still…

Because of them, I learned how to live again.

I made new friends.

Built new memories.

Became someone new.

Months later, they asked if I wanted to return to school.

I said yes.

Because maybe—

Moving forward mattered more than looking back.

Carotin let out a soft purr, pulling me back to the present.

I smiled faintly.

"You're getting sleepy too, huh?"

She stretched and padded toward her bed.

The night had grown quiet.

I stepped inside, closing the sliding door behind me, and lay down on my bed.

My eyes slowly grew heavy.

Maybe tomorrow…

Would be just another normal day.

Or maybe—

Something new would begin.

Morning

The morning air slipped quietly through the half-open window, cool and pale with the first light of day.

It brushed against my skin—

Soft.

Distant.

Almost unreal.

Because I wasn't really there.

Not in that room.

Not in that morning.

I was somewhere else entirely.

The Dream

Music unfurled like silk through the air—slow, elegant, endless.

A grand ballroom stretched around me, bathed in the golden glow of chandeliers that shimmered like suspended stars. Light spilled across polished marble, catching the gentle turn of dancers moving in perfect, unbroken rhythm.

And at the center of it—

I stood in his arms.

Louis.

His presence was quiet, grounding. One hand rested at my waist, firm but careful, guiding me with a precision that felt almost instinctive. As if he already knew every movement I would make before I made it.

My fingers curled lightly against his shoulder.

"Mia…" His voice was low, threaded with warmth. "I love you."

The words settled into me like something long-awaited.

"I love you too, Louis."

The world softened.

Faded.

There were no other faces. No distant footsteps. No sound beyond the quiet rhythm of the music and the steady pull of his presence.

Only him.

Only us.

We moved in slow circles, weightless, as though time itself had loosened its grip. The music slowed, stretching each note into something deeper—something fragile.

Then—

Silence.

The music ended.

Around us, the other dancers began to drift away, their forms dissolving into the golden light as if they had never truly been there.

Leaving only the two of us behind.

We stopped.

But neither of us stepped back.

His eyes held mine.

Dark. Steady.

Searching.

There was something in his gaze—something that reached past the surface, pressing gently against places I didn't have words for.

I couldn't look away.

Didn't want to.

He leaned closer.

Closer—

"Mia."

The voice shifted.

Sharpened.

Intruding.

"Mia, it's time to wake up!"

Reality

RIIIIIIING!!!

My eyes snapped open.

The world collapsed back into shape—walls, ceiling, morning light cutting too brightly across my room.

For a moment, I lay still, caught somewhere between two realities.

Then—

Awareness hit.

I was hugging my pillow.

Tightly.

My lips pressed against the fabric.

There was a faint dampness at the corner of my mouth.

"…No," I whispered hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling.

A long, defeated breath left me.

"We were so close…"

My hand fumbled blindly across the bedside table until it found the alarm. I silenced it with a dull tap.

The quiet that followed felt heavier than the noise.

The bed was still warm.

Too warm.

Inviting in a way that made logic feel optional.

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then—

I pulled the pillow back into my arms, burying my face into it.

"Just five more minutes…"

My eyes slipped shut.

Mia's Mother

"Mia, breakfast is ready!"

The words carried easily up the stairs, warm and practiced—part routine, part habit, part love.

I stood at the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled, the faint scent of cooking still clinging to the air. Normally, she would answer immediately.

A lazy "coming" or an annoyed groan.

Something.

Today—

Nothing.

I paused, hand stilling against the plate I was washing.

"That's unusual…"

A quiet unease crept in, subtle but persistent.

"Mia?"

Still nothing.

The silence stretched too long.

What if something's wrong?

The thought came uninvited—and once it did, it refused to leave.

I set the plate down and moved quickly, steps sharper as I climbed the stairs. By the time I reached her door, the unease had already begun shaping itself into something heavier.

I tried the handle.

Locked.

My frown deepened.

I knocked, firmer this time.

"Mia? Mia, are you okay?"

No answer.

I leaned closer, pressing my ear gently against the wood.

For a second—

Nothing.

Then—

"Louis… mm… not there… that's my ticklish spot…"

…

I froze.

The silence that followed was no longer empty.

My expression shifted.

Concern unraveled—thread by thread—into something else entirely.

"…I see."

A slow, knowing smile curved at my lips.

"Well… my daughter is growing up."

From my pocket, I retrieved the spare key.

"Let's confirm that."

The lock clicked softly.

I opened the door.

"This girl, what are you doing so early in the morni—"

I stopped.

There she was.

Tangling herself in her blanket like it was another person, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow she clung to with surprising devotion.

Murmuring.

Smiling.

Dreaming.

…

I stared.

"…I panicked for this?"

My hand rose to my temple.

A breath in.

A breath out.

Then—

My expression darkened.

"This child…"

My voice dropped—flat, dangerous.

"She has time for this…"

I stepped forward.

"But not to wake up for school?"

Without hesitation, I grabbed the blanket—

—and yanked.

"Louis… I'm cold… warm me…" she murmured.

That was it.

I pulled harder.

Mia

I was there—

Right there—

At the edge of something—

THUD!

"Ow!!"

The world flipped violently.

I hit the floor, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

For a moment, everything blurred.

Spun.

My thoughts scrambled as I pushed myself upright, blinking rapidly.

Earthquake?

Then—

A shadow fell over me.

Tall.

Still.

Unmoving.

Two glowing red eyes burned down at me.

"Monster!!"

Smack.

"Oh."

I blinked again.

"It's just Mom."

"Good morning, Mama," I said, forcing brightness into my voice.

She looked down at me.

Smiling.

But her eyes—

Her eyes said something else entirely.

"Go downstairs in one minute," she said calmly.

Then, sharper—

"Or I'll let Carotin eat your breakfast."

She turned.

Left.

The door slammed shut with finality.

I sat there for a second, staring at nothing.

"…That was a threat."

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my head.

"She ruined everything…"

My gaze drifted toward the bed.

"We were almost there…"

I reached for the clock.

7:00 AM.

My class starts at 7:30.

…

…

…

Everything in me went still.

"…No."

My heartbeat spiked.

"NO."

"I'M GOING TO BE LATE!!"

The next few minutes blurred into chaos.

Water.

Steam.

Buttons half-aligned.

Hair barely tamed.

I moved on instinct alone—fast, clumsy, desperate.

By the time I rushed downstairs, my hair was still damp, droplets trailing down the back of my neck. My blouse was only half-buttoned, fingers still working at it as I moved.

Breakfast was already packed.

Of course it was.

Mom always knew.

"Thank you!" I called, grabbing it and stuffing it into my bag.

"Take care on your way to school," she replied, as calm as ever.

Like she hadn't just ended my dream life.

I leaned in, kissed her cheek quickly, and ran.

The street felt quieter than usual.

Too quiet.

Most people had already disappeared into the rhythm of their day—work, school, routines that didn't wait for late sleepers.

I patted my cheeks lightly.

Once.

Twice.

Stay awake.

Stay focused.

You can still make it.

If I hurried.

If nothing went wrong.

Something did.

Not wrong.

Just—

Unexpected.

Near the end of the alley, I slowed.

There were unfamiliar faces.

New neighbors, maybe.

Then I saw him.

A boy stood beside a sleek black car, its surface reflecting the morning light too cleanly, too sharply—like it didn't belong in a place like this.

Neither did he.

He wore the same school uniform.

My school.

First year?

I would've remembered him.

He reached for the car door—

Then stopped.

His head turned slightly.

Not abruptly.

Not casually either.

Deliberate.

Like he had already noticed me long before I noticed him.

Our eyes met.

Something in my chest tightened.

Shifted.

He smiled.

Small.

Controlled.

The kind of smile that revealed nothing it didn't intend to.

Then he walked toward me.

Each step measured.

Balanced.

Not slow.

Not rushed.

Just… precise.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm Vince. New student. First year."

He extended his hand.

I hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before taking it.

"I—I'm Mia. First year too. We'll probably be classmates."

His hand was warm.

Steady.

But his grip—

It adjusted slightly the moment our fingers met.

Not tighter.

Not looser.

Just… calibrated.

Like he was careful not to apply more force than necessary.

Like he was aware of it.

Of me.

Of everything.

"That's good," he said.

His gaze flicked—not at me—but past me.

Brief.

Sharp.

Then back again.

"You're heading to school, right? We can give you a ride."

Before I could answer, his hand moved to my bag.

He lifted it easily.

Naturally.

But there was no hesitation in the action.

"Hey—wait—"

Too late.

He had already turned.

He opened the car door.

"After you."

I paused.

Something about this felt—

Off.

Not wrong.

Just… too smooth.

Too certain.

Like a decision had already been made somewhere, and I had only just arrived at it.

But—

I was late.

And his parents were inside.

Watching.

Waiting.

So—

I got in.

The interior was immaculate.

Quiet in a way that felt insulated from the outside world.

Vince slid in beside me.

The door closed.

Soft.

Final.

"Oh my," a woman's voice chimed, light and amused. "Looks like our Vince has already made a friend."

"Darling," a man added, "don't tease the girl."

I glanced forward.

His parents.

Composed.

Observant.

"Oh, she's blushing," the woman continued.

Heat rushed to my face.

"I'm not—I mean—I just—my skin does that sometimes—"

They laughed gently.

Not mocking.

But not entirely casual either.

I shrank slightly into my seat.

Then—

I glanced at Vince.

He wasn't looking at me.

His gaze was fixed on the window.

But not lazily.

Not absent-minded.

Focused.

Tracking.

His eyes moved subtly—left, right—pausing at reflections rather than the street itself.

Watching angles.

Distances.

People.

And for just a second—

His expression shifted.

Sharpened.

Like something had aligned.

Unseen

At the corner, a black van slowed.

Tinted windows.

Engine low.

Inside, a man watched the passing car.

"…Target confirmed."

Mia

I didn't notice.

I didn't see the van.

Didn't see the way Vince's gaze had changed.

All I knew was—

My heart hadn't settled.

My thoughts felt tangled.

And sitting beside me…

Was someone I didn't understand yet.

Someone careful.

Someone controlled.

Someone who felt—

Not like coincidence.

But like the beginning of something already in motion.

Something I had just stepped into.

Without realizing it.

Chapter 3: Controlled Variables

Vince POV

The corridor outside the principal's office was empty.

Too empty.

I stood near the wall, positioned just off-center from the door—far enough not to block it, close enough to react if needed. From here, I had a clear line of sight down both ends of the hallway.

No blind approach.

No unnecessary exposure.

Just enough control.

I checked my watch.

They were taking longer than expected.

Inside, Sergeant Dave and Sergeant Major Kate were finalizing the last details of my transfer—playing their roles as my "parents." On paper, it was a simple cover.

A wealthy family relocating.

A quiet son enrolling mid-term.

Clean. Believable.

And not entirely false.

Dave was, technically, a crown prince.

Kate came from an old Dutch family with enough influence to move quietly through most systems without resistance.

Both of them had access to wealth most people wouldn't even know how to spend.

And yet—

They argued over discounts.

Got excited over free samples.

And once spent fifteen minutes debating whether instant noodles counted as a "proper meal."

…Until they didn't.

Because when necessary—

They could switch.

Posture. Tone. Presence.

Everything sharpened.

People listened when they spoke.

Doors opened.

Questions disappeared.

I exhaled quietly and reached into my bag, pulling out a small notebook.

The motion was casual.

Routine.

My eyes weren't.

I scanned the corridor as I wrote.

Entry points. Exit routes. Camera placements.

Distance between corners.

Reflection angles from the polished floor tiles.

No immediate threats.

Still—

I mapped two fallback routes.

One direct.

One indirect.

Always have options.

The faint click of a doorknob cut through the silence.

I moved instantly.

Notebook closed.

Back into the bag.

A folded newspaper appeared in my hands, lifted just enough to cover my line of sight without blocking my peripheral vision.

Relaxed posture.

Unaware student.

The door opened.

"…thank you, Madam Principal. I do hope my little one will enjoy his time here," Kate's voice flowed smoothly—warm, elegant, carefully measured.

"I'm sure he will, ma'am. Our school offers excellent facilities," the principal replied.

"Vince, we're heading out now," Dave added. "The principal will guide you from here."

A hand tapped my shoulder.

I lowered the newspaper, blinking as if pulled from focus.

"Oh—sorry. I didn't realize you were already here."

The principal smiled. "You seemed very absorbed. That's a good trait."

"Ah, yes," Kate added lightly. "My little Vince is very mature."

Dave cleared his throat. "I'm standing right here."

Kate slipped her arm around his with practiced ease, offering a soft apology that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Dave, on the other hand—

Was enjoying this.

Far too much.

Noted.

He's getting hit later.

They walked off together, perfectly in sync—Kate leaning into him, Dave looking entirely satisfied with himself.

I watched them go for a fraction longer than necessary.

Ensuring no one followed.

No one lingered.

No unusual movement.

Clear.

"So," the principal said, drawing my attention back. "Shall we?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I stepped forward and opened the door for her.

"After you."

She paused, pleasantly surprised. "Such a gentleman."

A small, polite smile.

Nothing more.

I followed behind her, closing the door softly.

The hallway felt different now.

Occupied.

But still too quiet.

Our footsteps echoed in a controlled rhythm—muted slightly by the structure of the building.

Soundproofing.

Good for learning.

Bad for awareness.

I adjusted my pace half a step behind her.

Enough to observe.

Not enough to lead.

We stopped briefly at a door labeled Teachers and Staff.

She opened it—

Then paused.

"Oh dear… it seems we've missed them."

Empty.

No residual noise.

No movement.

"They must have already gone to their classes," she added.

"I don't blame them," I said lightly. "My parents can keep anyone talking for hours."

She laughed.

Accurate.

We continued.

My gaze lifted briefly—

Cameras.

Standard placement.

Decent coverage.

Blind spots at intersections.

Temporary.

Dave would already be inside their system.

If he wasn't—

That would be the real problem.

We stopped outside a classroom.

"Please wait here."

I nodded.

She knocked and stepped inside.

Voices filtered through the door.

Normal classroom noise.

No distress.

No disruption.

A moment later, another adult voice approached.

They stepped outside.

"I have a transfer student for you," the principal said. "Please take good care of him."

There was a pause.

Then—

"Oh my… what a handsome young man."

…

I maintained a neutral expression.

Handsome.

That wasn't usually the first word people used.

Noted.

Mia POV

The second the teacher stepped out, the room shifted.

Conversations sparked instantly—low at first, then building into a steady buzz of curiosity.

I leaned forward slightly, trying to hear through the door.

A transfer student…?

"Miaaaa~"

I flinched.

A finger poked my back—persistent and annoying.

I turned.

Samantha.

Of course it was her.

She had that look.

The one that guaranteed trouble.

"I saw you this morning," she whispered dramatically. "Fancy car. Very suspicious. So—who is he?"

My brain short-circuited.

"No! It's not like that," I whispered back urgently. "I just met him on the way to school! I was late, and they offered me a ride!"

She narrowed her eyes.

"…Still suspicious."

Then she leaned in closer, voice dropping.

"What if they're kidnappers?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"Or yakuza," she added. "Rich, organized, terrifying."

"…Why would yakuza drive kids to school?"

"Cover identity."

…

Why does that almost make sense?

Before I could respond, the door opened.

The teacher stepped back in.

"Everyone, we have a new student—"

"Oh my—A PRINCE," Samantha whispered loudly.

I looked up.

And froze.

It was him.

Vince.

Relief hit me instantly.

Okay. Not kidnappers.

Probably.

Vince POV

The moment I stepped into the room—

Noise.

Movement.

Attention.

Every variable shifted at once.

Thirty-plus individuals.

Different postures.

Different reactions.

Curiosity. Excitement. Judgment.

I stepped forward, controlled, steady.

"Introduce yourself," the teacher said.

Before I could—

Hands shot up.

Too fast.

Too many.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I don't," I replied calmly. "The only woman in my heart is my mother."

Reaction: strong.

Emotional response triggered.

Group cohesion increased.

Useful.

"Where are you from?"

"Iraq. Lebanon. Germany. The United States… and others."

Laughter.

They think I'm joking.

That works.

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"I'm not sure if tanks, airships, or submarines count."

Louder laughter.

A boy pointed at me. "You're my new best friend."

Noted.

High social acceptance.

Unexpected.

"What kind of movies do you watch?"

…

Pause.

Problem.

I searched my memory.

Training footage.

Mission briefings.

Surveillance recordings.

None of those qualified.

"…It's classified between me and my father."

The room erupted.

Again.

Acceptable outcome.

Dave POV

"Oh, that's gold."

I leaned back, watching the feed.

Audio synced perfectly.

Crystal clear.

"What kind of movies do you watch?"

Oh, here we go.

"…classified between me and my father."

I lost it.

Full laughter.

"He really said that?!"

I wiped at my eye, still grinning.

"If they knew the only thing he's watched is training footage…"

Hopeless.

Absolutely hopeless.

Vince POV

The interrogation lasted one hour.

One.

Hour.

I exhaled slowly, leaning back in my seat as the noise settled into something more manageable.

My gaze drifted upward.

Camera.

Active.

Angle confirmed.

Dave definitely saw that.

Unfortunate.

I opened the school handbook.

Schedule.

Routine.

Predictability.

Useful.

Then—

Cleaning assignments.

I stood.

Walked toward the posted list.

Names.

Groups.

Rotations.

And—

There.

Mia.

I stepped closer.

Memorizing.

Adjusting.

"Oh? Interested in the cleaning schedule?"

I turned.

A girl stood behind me.

Close.

Too close.

I hadn't heard her approach.

Mistake.

My posture remained relaxed.

Inside—

Alert.

"Yes," I said. "I was wondering how to join Mia's group."

Her eyes flickered—just slightly.

Too direct?

Possibly.

My fingers shifted subtly toward my pocket.

Electric pen.

Non-lethal.

Effective.

"Just write your name," she said casually, reaching past me.

She added it herself.

Smooth.

Unthreatening.

"Everyone chooses their schedule. It rotates."

No tension in her shoulders.

No hesitation.

No concealed movement.

…Not a threat.

I released the pressure in my hand.

"Thank you."

"My name is Yumi," she said with a smile. "Class president."

"Thank you, Miss Yumi."

She laughed lightly.

"No need to be formal. Just Yumi."

She tapped my shoulder and walked away.

I watched her go.

Friendly.

Open.

Normal.

…

I looked back at the board.

Then at the room.

Then at the camera.

Everything here looked ordinary.

Sounded ordinary.

Felt ordinary.

Which only meant one thing.

I couldn't trust any of it.

Not yet.

Not when I was still the unknown variable.

Not when someone, somewhere—

Was already watching.

Just like I was.

Just like them.

Just like me.