chapter 1| Grayford high

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“This wasn’t suicide.”

The voice was low. Calm.

But underneath it lingered something dangerous.

“It was murder.”

Rain slid down the train windows in uneven trails as Noah Sterling leaned back against his seat silently.

Cold city lights blurred past outside the glass, reflecting faintly across his sharp features.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

And far more intimidating than most people his age.

Even sitting down, Noah carried the kind of presence that naturally made people avoid eye contact for too long.

Dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead, slightly messy from sleep and travel. His black hoodie stretched faintly across a lean but muscular frame built from years of sports and disciplined training rather than vanity.

But what stood out most about Noah Sterling were his eyes.

Cold gray.

Unreadable.

The kind of eyes that looked permanently exhausted, as if they had already seen too much.

Headphones rested loosely over his ears while one hand remained buried inside the pocket of his hoodie.

Wrapped tightly around a small silver choir badge.

Scratched near the edges.

Old.

Worn down.

Mateo’s.

Noah lowered his gaze toward it quietly.

Two years.

It had already been two years since his brother died.

Or rather—

Two years since everyone decided to call it suicide and move on with their lives.

The train slowly began entering Grayhaven.

Outside, dark clouds covered the sky completely while rain poured endlessly over the city streets below.

Grayhaven.

The city Noah once swore he would never return to.

The train came to a stop with a metallic screech.

A robotic voice echoed through the carriage.

“Grayhaven Central Station. Final stop.”

Passengers immediately stood and gathered their belongings while conversations filled the compartment around him.

Noah remained seated.

His eyes stayed fixed on the rain-covered window.

And slowly—

a memory surfaced.

Back then, Mateo Sterling used to call him almost every night.

Sometimes to complain about exams. Sometimes about choir practice. Sometimes simply because he was bored.

But during the final weeks before his death—

something changed.

The calls became shorter.

Awkward.

Distracted.

Sometimes Mateo stopped speaking halfway through conversations, as if something around him had suddenly stolen his attention.

Sometimes he sounded exhausted, like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

And sometimes—

he sounded genuinely nervous.

Noah remembered one call clearly.

“You okay?”

Silence answered him first.

Static buzzed softly through the speaker.

Then Mateo laughed quietly.

But it sounded forced.

“Yeah.”

“Just tired.”

Noah frowned immediately.

“You sound terrible.”

“Thanks.”

Another silence followed.

Then faintly—

as if distracted by something happening nearby—

“I gotta go.”

“At least sleep properly, idiot.”

A small laugh came from the other side.

“Yeah.”

“See you later."

That was the last normal conversation they ever had.

Three days later—

Mateo Sterling was dead.

Noah slowly opened his eyes again.

The train doors slid apart.

Cold air rushed into the carriage immediately.

Without another word, Noah stood and grabbed his bag from beside the seat.

Several nearby passengers unconsciously moved aside to let him pass.

Not because he was rude.

But because something about him felt difficult to approach.

The moment Noah stepped off the train, an uncomfortable heaviness settled in his chest.

Grayhaven.

Cold.

Quiet.

And somehow suffocating.

The station looked exactly the same as he remembered.

Tall gray pillars. Dim overhead lights. Rainwater dragged across the floor by strangers rushing past.

Yet now the city felt different.

Heavier.

Noah adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the exit.

Outside, rain poured endlessly onto the streets.

Cars passed through puddles while neon signs reflected across wet sidewalks in blurred colors.

Grayhaven looked beautiful at night.

That was probably the worst thing about it.

Noah pulled his hood over his head and began walking.

His apartment wasn’t far from the station.

He chose it intentionally.

Close enough to Grayford High.

Far enough from everyone else.

By the time he reached the apartment building, rain had soaked the sleeves of his hoodie completely.

The building stood between narrow streets lined with old cafés and convenience stores glowing softly beneath the storm.

Nothing luxurious.

Nothing memorable.

Perfect.

After climbing the stairs to the third floor, Noah unlocked apartment 307 and stepped inside.

Silence greeted him immediately.

The apartment smelled faintly of dust and unopened windows.

A single lamp near the kitchen cast weak yellow light across the room.

Noah dropped his bag beside the couch before shutting the door quietly behind him.

For a while, he simply stood there.

Alone.

The rain tapping softly against the windows was the only sound in the apartment.

Then slowly, Noah crouched near his bag and unzipped it.

Clothes. Books. Headphones.

And beneath everything else—

A thick folder.

Noah pulled it out carefully and placed it on the table.

Inside were newspaper clippings, copied reports, printed articles, and handwritten notes.

Every single thing connected to Mateo’s death.

For two years, Noah had investigated quietly by himself.

Because none of it made sense.

Mateo wasn’t depressed.

He wasn’t unstable.

And he definitely wasn’t the type to suddenly end his own life without explanation.

Noah opened one article slowly.

GRAYFORD HIGH STUDENT FOUND DEAD

POLICE RULE CASE AS SUICIDE

His jaw tightened immediately.

Bullshit.

The article barely contained any details.

Everything about the case had been closed too quickly.

Too cleanly.

Almost like someone wanted people to stop asking questions.

At first, Noah only investigated because he couldn’t accept the answer he was given.

But the deeper he searched—

the stranger things became.

Deleted reports. Missing witness statements. Articles suddenly removed online. Former students refusing to speak openly about Grayford High.

And then—

one name began appearing repeatedly.

Silas Noxveil.

Noah still remembered the first time he found it.

Buried inside an online discussion forum that disappeared hours later.

“Don’t mention the Noxveil family if you value your future.”

At first, Noah ignored it.

But then the same name appeared again.

And again.

And again.

Until eventually every road somehow connected back to the same person.

Silas Noxveil.

Rain struck the apartment windows harder outside.

Noah leaned back against the chair slowly while staring at the papers spread across the table.

His eyes drifted toward the choir badge resting in his hand again.

Mateo used to wear it constantly.

Even after practice ended.

Noah remembered teasing him about it once years ago.

“Why do you wear that thing everywhere?”

Mateo glanced down at the silver badge clipped onto his blazer before grinning lazily.

“It’s lucky.”

Noah snorted.

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid."

The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.

The apartment became silent again.

Noah lowered his gaze slowly.

Then his eyes landed on the transfer application form resting beside the scattered papers.

TRANSFER STUDENT APPLICATION

GRAYFORD HIGH

For a long moment, Noah stared at it silently.

Then he picked it up.

His reflection stared back faintly from the dark apartment window behind the paper.

Tired eyes.

Cold expression.

Nothing like the person he used to be before Mateo died.

Outside, thunder rumbled across Grayhaven.

Noah looked toward the distant silhouette of Grayford High visible beyond the rain-covered buildings.

Dark.

Massive.

Watching.

Then slowly, he placed Mateo’s choir badge beside the transfer form.

His gray eyes darkened slightly.

“Wait for me, hyung.”

Silence filled the apartment.

Then quietly—

almost like a warning meant for someone far away—

Noah spoke again.

“I’ll drag the truth out myself.”

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