Images flashed through her mind—fragmented, overlapping.
A classroom. Chalk dust.
A stubborn child with red eyes refusing to rest.
A small, quiet figure sitting alone at a corner table.
The child.
Her gaze flicked instinctively to the corner of the restaurant.
The child hadn't moved.
They were sitting exactly where she had left them, small hands folded in their lap, eyes wide but silent. Watching. Waiting.
----
"Hey, what the hell is that?"
Ryen's voice echoed sharply through the room.
He had already stepped forward before he realized it, his face twisted in pure anger as his eyes locked onto the thing wrapped around Professor Lena.
"Disgusting," Leo said flatly.
His hand hovered near his weapon, not drawing it yet, but ready. His gaze was sharp, analytical, though the revulsion was obvious.
Something black and grotesque writhed in the air.
