The sky remained gray.
Not storming.
Not clear.
Just… hanging.
Like something unfinished.
-
Michael hadn't gone back to class.
Not immediately.
He stayed outside, leaning against the cold wall near the stairwell, his breathing still uneven.
His phone was still in his hand.
The messages still there.
Unchanged.
Unforgiving.
-
"You didn't fall that day."
"But someone else did."
-
His fingers trembled slightly.
"No one knows…" he whispered.
His voice was hoarse.
Uncertain.
Almost pleading.
-
But deep inside—
He knew.
That wasn't entirely true.
-
Footsteps approached.
Michael quickly locked his phone.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
-
"Mike."
Raka.
Again.
Michael clicked his tongue softly.
"…What?"
Raka stopped a few steps away, studying him.
Not joking this time.
Not laughing.
Serious.
"You've been acting weird."
"I told you—"
"Don't give me that again."
Silence.
Heavy.
-
Raka stepped closer.
Lowered his voice.
"This about yesterday?"
Michael's jaw tightened.
"…No."
"Then what?"
"Nothing."
Too fast.
Too defensive.
-
Raka exhaled slowly.
"You know that doesn't convince me."
Michael looked away.
That was the problem.
Raka knew him too well.
-
From the second floor—
Arthur watched.
Of course he did.
-
"They're closer than the others," Mira said quietly beside him.
Arthur nodded.
"Yes."
"Which means?"
Arthur's eyes sharpened slightly.
"He's the first fracture point."
-
Back below—
Raka crossed his arms.
"…You sure this isn't about that incident?"
Michael froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
-
Arthur noticed.
Immediately.
-
"…What incident?" Michael asked.
Too calm.
Forced.
-
Raka frowned.
"You serious?"
He stepped closer.
Lower voice.
"The rooftop. Two months ago."
-
Silence.
Total.
Absolute.
-
Michael's heartbeat spiked.
Loud.
Violent.
Impossible to ignore.
-
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
But his voice—
It cracked.
Just slightly.
-
Raka stared at him.
Long.
Hard.
"…You're a bad liar today."
-
Arthur smiled faintly.
There it is.
-
Raka ran a hand through his hair.
"…Look, I didn't say anything. No one did."
Michael said nothing.
-
"But if something's coming back…"
Raka hesitated.
"…we should deal with it before it becomes a problem."
-
That word.
We.
-
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
-
Michael finally spoke.
"…Drop it."
His tone changed.
Lower.
Sharper.
Dangerous.
-
Raka blinked.
"…What?"
"I said drop it."
Michael stepped forward.
Now their distance—
Too close.
-
"I handled it."
The words came out cold.
Controlled.
Final.
-
Raka's expression shifted.
Not fear.
Not yet.
But something close.
-
"…Handled?" he repeated.
-
Michael's eyes darkened.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then—
"Like we agreed."
-
Silence again.
But this time—
Different.
-
Arthur leaned slightly forward.
Focused.
-
Raka exhaled slowly.
"…Right."
But his voice—
Less certain now.
-
"Just don't drag me into anything stupid," Raka added.
Michael didn't reply.
-
Raka walked away.
But his steps—
Slower than before.
-
Arthur watched him go.
Then—
He turned his gaze back to Michael.
-
"Now we know," Mira said.
Arthur nodded.
"Yes."
-
He spoke softly.
Almost like stating a fact.
-
"There was someone else."
-
Mira crossed her arms.
"And they didn't 'fall' by accident."
-
Arthur didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
-
Because the truth was already there.
Just beneath the surface.
-
And now—
Michael knew that someone else knew.
That was enough.
-
-
The rest of the day passed…
But not normally.
Michael couldn't focus.
Not in class.
Not in conversation.
Not even on his phone.
Every sound—
Triggered him.
Every laugh—
Felt directed at him.
Every whisper—
Suspicious.
And worst of all—
Every time someone mentioned the word "roof"…
His body tensed.
Instinctively.
Arthur noticed everything.
"Paranoia stage," he muttered under his breath.
Mira glanced at him.
"You've done this before."
Arthur didn't deny it.
He simply said:
"People destroy themselves faster than you think."
-
-
After school—
The sky darkened again.
Not rain.
Just shadow.
Students began leaving.
Groups.
Pairs.
Alone.
Michael stayed.
Of course he did.
Arthur stood near the staircase.
Waiting.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Michael moved.
Not toward the gate.
Toward the stairs.
Up.
Arthur followed.
Silently.
At a distance.
-
One floor.
Two.
Three.
Until—
The rooftop door came into view.
Michael stopped in front of it.
His hand hovered over the handle.
Hesitating.
Arthur stood behind the wall, hidden.
Watching.
-
"This is where it loops," he whispered.
Michael slowly pushed the door open.
/CREAK./
The rooftop greeted him with cold wind.
Empty space.
And silence.
The same place.
Two months ago.
-
Flash—
A figure.
Standing near the edge.
-
A voice.
Panicked.
"Don't do this—"
A shove.
A scream—
Michael staggered back slightly.
His breathing unstable.
"…It wasn't my fault," he muttered.
Arthur stepped forward.
Just enough—
So his shadow became visible.
-
Michael froze.
-
"…Who's there?"
Arthur didn't answer.
He stepped out slowly.
Into the open.
Calm.
Unshaken.
-
Michael's eyes widened slightly.
"…You?"
-
Arthur tilted his head.
"Do you remember now?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
-
Michael clenched his fists.
"…You've been doing this."
-
Arthur smiled faintly.
-
"Doing what?"
-
Michael stepped forward.
Anger replacing fear.
"Stop playing games."
Arthur's gaze didn't change.
"I'm not playing."
/A pause./
"I'm reminding."
-
Wind blew across the rooftop.
Cold.
Sharp.
Michael's voice dropped.
"…What do you want?"
Arthur took one step closer.
Then another.
Until the distance between them—
Felt intentional.
-
"Nothing."
Michael frowned.
Arthur's eyes locked onto his.
"I just want you to remember…"
/A beat./
"…what really happened."
/Silence./
Then—
Michael laughed.
Short.
Dry.
Unstable.
"You think you can scare me with that?"
Arthur didn't respond.
Didn't react.
Which made it worse.
Because Michael realized something—
Arthur wasn't bluffing.
-
-
Arthur leaned slightly closer.
And whispered—
"Next time…"
/A pause./
"I won't just remind you."
His voice dropped lower.
Colder.
"I'll make everyone else remember too."
-
-
/Silence./
Absolute.
Michael didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because for the first time—
He understood.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't a prank.
This—
Was targeted.
Calculated.
And unstoppable.
-
-
Arthur stepped back.
Turned around.
And walked away.
Leaving Michael alone—
On the same rooftop…
Where everything had started.
-
-
The wind howled softly.
And somewhere deep inside—
Michael felt it.
Something breaking.
Not outside.
But within.