~~~~~
Two weeks had passed since the tragedy that had shaken Pristine High to its core. Two weeks since the once-lively corridors turned silent, since laughter and gossip were replaced by whispers and mourning.
The funerals of Cindy and Cathy were grand — the kind that felt more like public mourning than private grief. Cameras flashed, reporters crowded around the entrance, and fans wept openly behind metal barricades, clutching posters, flowers, and candles.
Even in death, the late members of the Triple Cs had managed to capture the attention of the entire city. They had been idols once — adored, envied, worshipped — and now they had become a memory too haunting to fade.
But for Zhane, the funerals were just another reminder of how fragile everything around him was.
Pristine High had been temporarily shut down for the first time in its long, flawless history. The administration called it "a necessary measure for student safety."
Dormitories were emptied, the once-bustling grounds now silent as students returned to their homes. But Zhane… Zhane had nowhere to return to.
He had stood before his empty dorm room, staring at the cracked wall where his timetable still hung, and realized that all he owned fit into a single, worn-out but neat backpack.
There was no relative waiting for him with open arms, no home to seek refuge in. Just a world that kept moving while he stood still.
And so now, late in the afternoon, nearly evening, he sat on a wooden bench in the city park. The sky had begun to dip into shades of orange and violet, the sun melting into the horizon as if exhausted from burning all day.
Zhane sat slouched, wearing a faded black hoodie and a rough tracksuit that looked as though it had been washed one too many times. His sneakers — the only pair he owned besides an old, worn-out pair of sandals — tapped idly against the pavement.
The faint hum of traffic played in the distance, blending with the laughter of children and the chatter of couples passing by.
His fingers gripped his backpack tightly, holding it close on his lap like a shield. Inside were his few belongings — his books, some clothes, a cheap phone charger, and a single photo of his late mother that he could never bring himself to throw away.
He had been sitting there for hours as he watched people go about their daily lives oblivious to his struggle. When boredom seeped in he tried to distract himself by memorizing the clothes of random passers-by or naming the cars that zoomed past.
"Toyota… Honda… Mercedes… Nissan Altima. ." He whispered them under his breath, pretending it was a game, though the truth was that he was simply trying not to think too much.
When the boredom finally caught up with him, he pulled out his phone. News headlines glared back at him like sharp reminders of things he didn't want to remember:
> "CINDY & CATHY'S KILLER STILL AT LARGE."
"PRISTINE HIGH UNDER INVESTIGATION."
"MYSTERY BEHIND THE MURDERS — WHO'S NEXT?"
He sighed, his brows furrowing. "They're really milking this tragedy," he muttered, scrolling past the endless wave of online theories and fake sympathy posts.
So far, the police were still investigating the murders, but so far, they had no leads. The killer remained a mystery, and Zhane couldn't help but wonder who could be capable of such a heinous crime.
He didn't know why, but part of him still couldn't stop wondering — who could've done it?
Who would have wanted those girls dead? Revenge? Jealousy? Some twisted thrill?
The possibilities made his skin crawl.
He leaned back, inhaled deeply, and tilted his head toward the sky and exhaled. The fading light painted the clouds in soft gold and violet streaks, and for a fleeting moment, he felt calm — no thoughts, no worries, just the wind brushing against his face.
But then, reality came back to bite.
His chest tightened as he remembered — he had nowhere to go tonight. The dorms were locked, and he had only a few hundred dollars left in his account. Hotels were too expensive.
He could try returning to his uncle's place, but… no. That man had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him after Zhane refused to drop out and work. Going back would be like walking into a cage. His pride will never allow it.
"Fuck," Zhane muttered quietly, his voice breaking the calm air.
A nearby woman glanced in his direction, whispering something to her friend. Zhane instinctively looked away, embarrassed.
Even without looking, he could sense the judgment in their minds — faint ripples of thought brushing against his awareness like echoes in a cave.
> That boy's been sitting there all day… strange.
Is he homeless?
Maybe he's waiting for someone…
He rubbed his temples, exhaling through his nose. 'Damn it, I should stop reading people's thoughts accidentally'.
Sometimes Zhane had wondered what was the deal with his powers and how to control it, but with how his life was turning out, he had little or no time to dwell on such thoughts and just decided to bear with it.
He looked up again, watching as another car passed by — a sleek black one this time, tinted windows, purring engine.
He paid it no mind until it suddenly screeched to a halt a few meters ahead. Zhane blinked, startled, as the car reversed slowly — deliberately — until it stopped right beside the bench.
He froze.
The door opened with a smooth click, and a leg stepped out — slim, elegant, clad in a glossy black high heel. Then came the rest of her.
The girl that emerged looked like she'd stepped straight out of a magazine. A fitted black suit jacket hugged her figure, the matching skirt ending just above her knees, teasing yet formal.
Her long blonde hair cascaded freely around her shoulders, the dying sunlight glinting off every strand, giving it a faint, golden glow. A pair of dark sunglasses and a black face mask concealed most of her face, but her presence alone carried an aura of quiet confidence — the kind only someone used to attention could have.
For a moment, Zhane's throat went dry.
She was familiar. Too familiar.
The girl reached up and pulled down her mask, then slid off her sunglasses.
Zhane's eyes widened. "Celine…" he murmured, the name escaping his lips before he could stop it.
"Hi, Zhane," she said softly, her voice carrying that same melodic calm he remembered — the voice that could disarm a room. She gave him a small wave, almost shyly, as if the world had turned upside down and she was the one unsure of herself.
Zhane blinked a few times, processing the sight in front of him. He hadn't seen her since the funerals, and even then, she'd been surrounded by reporters and mourners. Seeing her here, now, was surreal.
Her eyes — bright ocean-blue, though dimmed with a kind of sadness — met his.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking a few steps closer. Her perfume, faint but intoxicating, drifted toward him — something floral and expensive.
Zhane hesitated. He could lie. Or maybe tell the truth. But what good would that do, He didn't want her pity.
"What do you mean what am I doing here?" he said, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I'm just… resting. Taking a break."
Celine stared at him intently, her eyes piercing through his facade. Zhane felt like she could see right through him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if dissecting his words. Zhane averted his eyes, pretending to check his phone.
"Resting?" she repeated softly. "You've been here since noon, haven't you?"
He froze. She had noticed.
Celine sighed, crossing her arms. "You're struggling to find a place to stay, aren't you?"
Zhane's shoulders tensed. He didn't answer. He didn't need to — she already knew.
Her voice softened. "I'm sorry to hear that, If you don't mind, why don't I give you a ride to my house? You can stay for the night. Maybe even till you figure something out."
Zhane blinked, completely caught off guard. "I—what?"
Celine smiled faintly under her mask. "Don't worry. My parents aren't around. It's just me and the maids. You'll be safe there."
He stood, shaking his head. "You don't have to trouble yourself, really. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind already. Besides…" His voice trailed off. "I'm not sure what your parents would think about a random guy staying in your house."
He picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "But thanks. Really."
He stood up and turned to leave — but before he could take a full step, something tugged lightly at the hood of his hoodie.
He stopped.
Celine stood there, holding onto the fabric, her expression unreadable. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke again. "Look… you don't have to worry, okay? I'm not doing this because I pity you. I just…" She bit her lip. "I owe you. And I want to make it right. Please… just let me."
Zhane turned slowly to face her. Her eyes were glistening, shimmering faintly in the dying sunlight. It wasn't manipulation — it was raw emotion. Guilt, sadness, sincerity.
He could feel her heart racing, even without touching her mind.
A sigh escaped him. He ran a hand through his hair. Damn it.
"Okay," he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended. "I'll go. So don't cry, alright?"
He reached out and gently patted her head, his palm brushing against the soft strands of her blonde hair.
Celine's lips curved into a smile — small, but genuine. And for the briefest second, Zhane's chest tightened. She looked… adorable. Like the kind of girl who could melt your defenses without even trying.
Then he quickly withdrew his hand, realizing what he was doing. 'What the hell am I thinking? Get a grip, Zhane'.
"Thank you," Celine said, her voice tinged with gratitude and relief. She turned toward the car, gesturing for him to follow. "Come on. Let's get going before the sun sets completely."
Zhane stood there for a moment, watching her walk away — her hair swaying lightly with each step, the black skirt accentuating her movement in a way that made his heart flutter and his thoughts wander somewhere dangerous.
He looked up at the sky once more. The first stars were beginning to appear, faint but clear, scattered across the dusky canvas.
"Guess fate isn't done playing tricks on me," he muttered with a small, humorless smile.
He picked up his backpack and followed her into the car.
As the door shut behind him, the hum of the engine filled the air. Celine adjusted her sunglasses again, starting the vehicle. The headlights cut through the evening haze as they merged onto the main road.
Outside, the world blurred past — city lights, trees, people. Inside, the car was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio.
As they drove off, Zhane couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. He had accepted Celine's offer, but he had no idea what it would entail. Would she treat him like a charity case, or would she be kind to him? One thing was for sure, he would have to be careful around her. After all, he didn't know what she was capable of.
Zhane glanced sideways at her. The faint glow from the dashboard lit up her profile — calm, collected, beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair. He turned away quickly, resting his head against the window.
Neither of them spoke. But somehow, the silence didn't feel awkward. It felt… peaceful.
Celine's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and for a brief moment, she looked at him — really looked at him. His hoodie, his tired eyes, the faint lines of worry carved into his face. She wanted to say something — maybe an apology for all the things she'd said before, or for how she'd treated him when he was just working as a cleaner .
But she couldn't find the words.
Zhane, on the other hand, stared at the lights flickering past, his mind drifting somewhere between gratitude and unease. He didn't know what awaited him in her house. But deep down, something told him — this wasn't just coincidence.
The air between them held something unspoken. A quiet thread connecting two souls from different worlds, pulling tighter with each passing second.
And as the car turned onto the long road leading out of the city, the glow of the headlights cutting through the night mist, Zhane couldn't shake the feeling that whatever awaited them next… would be something big, he just couldn't put his finger on it.
The city faded behind them. The horizon ahead glimmered faintly, like a promise neither of them yet understood.
And just like that — beneath the evening sky — the car drove off, disappearing into the distance.
---