Two girls stepped out of a cab that came to a slow, hissing halt before the gates of Diamond College—a fortress of privilege nestled in the icy heart of Alaska. One was a vision of light, dressed in soft pink and white, her ivory skin glowing beneath the pale morning sun. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with innocence, framed by lashes too long to be fair. Her long black hair danced in the wind like silk threads.
The other girl beside her was death in disguise.
Clad in an all-black ensemble—hoodie, trousers, combat boots, and a sleek black mask that concealed most of her face—Lyric Cassandra Sandras radiated cold, unmoving silence. Her eyes, the only thing visible, were void of light. She looked more like a shadow than a person.
"Lyric, come on!" the girl in pink chirped, her voice sweet, naive. Lilian Garcia. Her tone was filled with a kind of hope that didn't belong beside someone like Lyric. But Lyric didn't respond. She didn't even glance her way. She simply began walking forward.
Diamond College was no ordinary school. It was a kingdom built by wealth, sustained by legacy. Its gothic-style architecture towered over them—arched bridges connecting buildings, marble staircases, fountains with statues of forgotten gods. Golden trims gleamed across black stone walls. Inside, glistening chandeliers floated like ice stars in endless halls, and velvet curtains whispered secrets of the elite.
The girls stepped through the grand entrance. Lyric's sharp eyes swept the space like a predator in a den of prey. She caught students turning to whisper, their faces twisted with judgment and amusement. Their gazes lingered on Lyric's black clothes and her silent demeanor.
"She's definitely poor…"
"A scholarship rat?"
"Why does she wear a mask like she's someone important?"
"She must be hiding her ugly face."
Lyric rolled her eyes slowly, then leaned in toward Lilian and muttered coldly, "Be careful here. They're not your friends."
Her voice was hollow. Chilling. It froze Lilian mid-step. "Why are you always like this?" Lilian pouted. "Can't you feel... life?"
Lyric ignored her entirely and pulled out her phone, dialing a number. Moments later, a man in a sharp grey suit appeared from one of the glass-walled offices. His expression shifted the moment he saw her. He bowed—deeply.
"Miss Sandras, welcome."
Lyric didn't acknowledge his greeting. "Take me to your office."
"Yes, Miss."
They walked into the Principal's Office—an opulent space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a private lake on campus. The man's hands trembled slightly as he brought out the registration forms. Within the hour, everything was finalized.
"Congratulations," he said, standing. "Welcome to Diamond College's elite student circle."
Without flinching, Lyric calmly transferred four million dollars to his account. No emotion. No hesitation.
She turned and walked out, Lilian hurrying behind her.
In the halls, the whispers were louder now.
"Wait… did she just—transfer millions?"
"No way. Wasn't she poor?"
"Who the hell is she?"
Lyric walked through them as if they were ghosts.
Outside, the cab still waited. She stepped in wordlessly. Lilian followed, throwing one last glance at the murmuring students. "Aren't you going to say anything about them? They were calling you—"
Lyric leaned back, eyes closed, face expressionless.
Her lips barely moved as she said, "Remember why we're transferring in the middle of the semester?"
Lilian's breath hitched. Her voice died in her throat.
Yes… she remembered.
At their previous school, a group of students made the fatal mistake of mocking Lyric's late parents. They laughed, called them failures. Said they must have raised a demon.
Lyric smiled.
Not the sweet smile of a girl. The terrifying one. The one that meant death.
That same day, in front of the entire school, she butchered the four boys who had insulted her family. Cut them into pieces with surgical precision and mailed the parts to their homes as "gifts."
Their parents screamed for justice, tried to press charges. But Lyric's money silenced the law. Her power erased the crime. Lilian had watched it all. And ever since, she'd stopped asking questions she didn't want the answers to.
She shivered, clutching her arms, and whispered, "Okay…"
Lyric said nothing. She was either asleep or pretending—like she often did when the world annoyed her.
The cab stopped before a colossal, golden gate, guarded on both sides by stone wolves with ruby eyes. The driver stared in disbelief. The gate opened slowly.
The mansion behind it was enormous—more castle than house. Three floors of brutal elegance. Its walls were a strange, unsettling sight… entirely black. Jet black walls. Black windows. Black rooftop. Even the flowers lining the driveway were a deep, unnatural shade of crimson, like dried blood.
"Who paints a house black?" the driver muttered under his breath.
Lyric stepped out, paid the fare, and walked forward.
At the entrance stood a couple. Lilian lit up. "Aunt Maya! Uncle Darren!" she cried, running into their arms. They embraced her warmly.
Lyric walked past them as if they were air. She didn't look at them. Didn't greet. As she passed the butler, she snapped, "Don't let stray dogs into my house."
The couple's smiles faltered. Aunt Maya's eyes dimmed, but she nodded quietly, watching Lyric disappear inside the house.
The interior was colder than the outside. Black chandeliers, black velvet drapes, black marble floors. A house of mourning. Of secrets.
And the third floor? Off limits. Even to Lilian.
Lyric stepped into the elevator, pressed the button, and vanished behind silver doors.
Outside, Lilian apologized to the couple. "I'm sorry for her attitude. She's… complicated."
Maya gave a sad smile. "She's in pain, Lilian. Go in. Before she locks you out again."
As the couple walked away, Lilian stood silently.
What in the world made Lyric this way?
She remembered when she first met Lyric—just seven years old, recently discharged from the hospital. No smile. No warmth. Just cold eyes and silence.
Two weeks later, her mother was murdered.
And then they ran.
Then came the money. Then came the blood. Then came the change.
Lyric, who once loved pink… now lived in a house as dark as her soul.
Lilian sighed, stepped into the elevator, and hit the button for the second floor. Her room. Her refuge.
Above her, Lyric entered the shadows of the third floor.
Where no one dares to go.