The room smelled like old varnish and forgotten secrets.
Sharon sat still, hands folded on her lap, her blazer too warm under the flickering fluorescent light. Across the table sat three staff members — two women with clipped accents and disapproving eyes, and Mr. Elias, whose smile looked more like a trap than reassurance.
"Tell us again," one of the women said, "why your name appeared alongside Mara's in the system logs."
Sharon blinked. "I don't have access to the system."
"That's not what the logs say."
She stared at them. "Then your logs are wrong."
They shifted uncomfortably, expecting fear. She gave them stillness instead.
"We're not accusing," Mr. Elias said smoothly. "We're simply concerned. You've always been… promising. But this school doesn't tolerate those who misplace their loyalties."
There it was — the threat dressed in silk.
---
After what felt like hours, they let her go.
As she stepped out into the hallway, the silence weighed heavier than any words. Nora was waiting outside, sitting stiffly on the bench. When she saw Sharon, she stood too quickly.
"You okay?"
Sharon nodded. "How long was I in there?"
"Long enough for Reina to walk out of the prefect's meeting."
Sharon froze. "What?"
Nora's lips thinned. "She left. Walked out mid-meeting. Told Bianca something like, 'If this is your way of keeping peace, I'd rather live in the chaos.' Then just… left."
For Reina — the girl who rarely even missed a curfew — it was more than rebellion. It was a declaration.
---
By evening, the dorm buzzed like a hive disturbed.
Zuri pulled Sharon aside. "You made a list."
"What list?"
"The one they posted — students to be 'interviewed.' You're on it. So am I. So's Reina. Tega, Leo, three juniors, and that boy from science club who hasn't said a word since first term."
"And Bianca?" Sharon asked.
Zuri gave a dry laugh. "Her? She's the one helping review the reports."
Of course she was.
Sharon said nothing, but her fingers curled into her palm.
---
That night, Sharon unlocked the bottom drawer Mara used to keep her backup journals. Most were blank — or filled with quick notes on assignments, poetry lines, and class schedules.
Except for one.
It was missing the cover. Inside were two entries — both undated.
> They said she never existed.
But I saw her. The girl who used to wear her socks inside-out and whispered to the roses in the garden.
Bianca knows. She just pretends she doesn't.
> If I disappear, it won't be sudden. They'll rewrite me in pieces, like they did her.
And everyone will play along, because it's easier than asking what really happened to the student who never existed.
Sharon's breath caught.
Was Mara talking about herself? Or someone else?
She turned the page, but that was it. The rest was blank.
---
The next day, the prefect board called another meeting — this time in the Great Room.
Bianca stood at the center, eyes icy, lips pursed. "We need cooperation," she said, addressing the room like a general. "Someone is trying to tear this system apart from the inside. This is not the time for misplaced empathy."
Leo raised a hand. "What if it's not about empathy? What if we're… being lied to?"
Bianca looked at him long and hard. "Then I suggest you start trusting the chain of command. Before it turns on you."
There was something in her tone — clipped, razor-sharp — that silenced the room.
But Sharon saw the smallest twitch in Bianca's jaw.
She's losing control.
And she knew it.
---
Later that evening, Sharon went back to the computer lab. Alone.
The main system had locked her out — but the backup logs still cached temporary user data. She dug in, fingers moving fast.
Most names had standard ID paths.
But one name — a simple C.A. — had no records.
No courses. No ID number. No birthday.
And yet…
It showed up every three days for the last year — logging in, accessing senior-level files, erasing footprints.
The last access was three hours ago.
Sharon blinked, staring at the screen.
Not Mara. Not Reina. Not Bianca.
Someone else. Someone who shouldn't exist.
The next scheduled login was for Saturday. Midnight.
And the access point?
Lab Terminal 4.
The one right beside her.
---
She didn't sleep that night.
And when the bell rang the next morning, something was taped to her locker.
A single photo — grainy, low-res — printed from a security feed.
It showed Sharon standing in the lab.
Behind her, barely in frame, a figure with braided hair and a crimson hoodie.
No face.
Just a hand reaching toward her shoulder.
She hadn't seen them. Not then.
But someone had been right behind her.
Watching.
---
End of Chapter 22