Neither the commute nor the trivial small talk he had with Vanesa had been as uncomfortable as facing the rest of the group. Vanesa's friends couldn't hide what they were thinking; their expressions said it all. To make matters worse, the guy accompanying them, Ned, treated Ima with a narcissistic coldness that rubbed him the wrong way. It was clear that Ima was in for a difficult time, but he now had his abilities as a trump card.
"Alright, let's get moving. We only have 30 minutes before the concert starts," Ned mentioned. "If I don't get there on time, the band will be in trouble."
Ned paused, realizing he wasn't sure of the fastest shortcut. Emma noticed his hesitation.
"So, which way do you suggest we go?" she asked.
<
[Sympathy +3xp, Condescension +10xp]
[Status: Attentive]
Perfect, Ima thought. Seconds later, he was explaining with surgical precision the route they should take to arrive on time. Even Luna and Ned watched expectantly as he pulled out his phone to show them the path on a map app.
With the route mapped out, the walk was pleasant—almost boring for Ima. Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to talk to Vanesa or the others. He could only observe from the edge of the group while the wind-blown street dust hit his nose, irritating it. Most of the people around them were of the same age, making it easy to deduce they were all heading to the same spot. Despite being excluded from the conversation, Ima felt a sense of peace watching Vanesa chat with such playful extroversion.
However, Ima's mind eventually drifted back to his previous concerns.
I hope if I contact that four-eyed thing again, I can actually get some answers. I really want to talk more and... Ima slowed his pace and pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Why did you give me this?" he muttered to himself, staring at the icon of the mysterious application. "Was it mercy, as those who preach about God would say? Was that thing... God?" The screen's brightness made his pupils dilate.
"Is something wrong?" Vanesa, noticing Ima had fallen behind, moved to his side to peek at his phone. Instinctively, Ima turned the screen off.
"It's nothing. I was just double-checking the route."
For the rest of the way, Ima remained quiet, still reflecting. The fear that his curiosity might take over again and cause another fatality—like what happened to Barry—gave him an inexplicable feeling of emotional suffocation.
Meanwhile, without anyone noticing, Barry had been watching the entire group from across the street.
II
Barry had spent most of the morning enduring both his internal rage and the morning sun. This, coupled with the constant shouting of an old man who seemed to have nothing better to do, and a couple of people he saw tossing trash in the park right in front of him as if they didn't care, had pushed him to the limit. Although lunch had managed to temper his mood slightly, facing the students again caused his mind to spiral into chaos.
At dismissal time, the first pair to strike him with their presence were Ennard and Willie—the two Ima only knew as "the fat one" and "the skinny one." Upon seeing him, both approached with the characteristic sympathy of lackeys, but Barry could read nothing but mockery in their faces. Despite their words of appreciation and their "regret" for not being able to prevent his situation, Barry saw them as traitors and fake altruists. He began shouting insults, attacking nearby objects, and glaring with a look they had never seen before. Even though they weren't directly to blame—even though they had only told him about the embarrassment Ima had caused them that day—they could have never separated Barry from Ima even if they tried. The fault lay nowhere else but in Barry's already damaged mind. Pure determinism!
Both Ennard and Willie left the scene, embarrassed by Barry's outburst. Unfortunately, another pair of students leaving at the same time witnessed the scene and stared at Barry without blinking, which only made things worse. Even though their faces held expressions of sympathy or curiosity, Barry could see nothing but smirks and laughter.
When his shift ended, he simply left as usual. The idea he had been cultivating over the last few days—despite his last sparks of humanity making him doubt—solidified as his only goal. Now that Barry was ruined, he could only integrate one thing into his nearly non-existent sense of purpose: killing Ima.
He had spent hours at home memorizing Ima's commute, possible routes, and independent locations where he could get materials without raising suspicion. His home seemed to match his mood: the dim afternoon light gave it a faded look; the majestic silence mirrored the thousand possibilities of his plan; and the sour scent of his own sweat hung in the air. It felt like a divine coincidence.
Once he finished molding his thoughts, he headed out in his uniform. This way, if he bought certain materials, people would assume he was working on something where they were necessary. He would fully use the money his father had left behind before disappearing.
He bought what he needed quickly—not even pausing to wonder if the authorities would suspect his recent activity—and returned home. On the table, the materials gleamed under Barry's perverse gaze: a pair of ropes, long cloth rags, screws, and finally, a baseball bat. All that was left was to find Ima and acquire sleeping pills. Since his plan was to kidnap him under the guise of an apology—offering him a drink laced with sedatives—he believed in his cover story, though he felt it wouldn't even be necessary.
Heading to the nearest pharmacy, he prepared to commit a robbery, knife in hand, until a nearly miraculous sight stopped him. As if a mysterious waiter had offered him his dish on a silver platter, Ima passed by with his group on the opposite sidewalk. Barry couldn't help but smile. He decided to follow.
After a few minutes, he noticed other people heading in the same direction, which he found strange. Curious, he approached a boy who looked terrified upon seeing Barry's expression. He asked where everyone was going, and the boy stammered that they were all likely going to the concert starting at 6:00.
Barry left the boy alone and followed Ima's group from a considerable distance, smiling. He never lost sight of them. Seeing Ima talking normally with Vanesa during the walk reignited the memories of the day Ima had confessed his feelings.
"Bingo..." he whispered. Minutes later, after confirming the exact location of the concert, he left the area to prepare his new plan, laughing internally. Anyone who bumped into him was left stunned by the "psychotic" look in Barry's eyes.