Elena POV
The pills don't help anymore.
Each night, I lie in bed watching the stars flicker through the glass dome above my dorm. Their light should be calming, but all I feel is tightness in my chest — an ache that refuses to fade.
My limbs are heavy. My heart? Heavier.
Sleep is no longer rest. It's escape. And when I wake up, I return to a world where he still won't look at me.
I don't know why I did it. Maybe I was desperate.
I threw a robe over my body, slipped on my slippers, and ran down the cold hallway toward his door again — just like yesterday. Hoping. Hoping this time, he'd be there.
But he wasn't.
He was already on the school pitch, preparing for Day Two of the tournament like he hadn't torn me apart just by riding away.
I leaned against his door and let my breath tremble.
My thoughts dragged me back—to that moment right after the match.
Flashback – After the Game
The final score wasn't 3-3.
Jake's goal broke the tie.
4-3.
He smiled as the ball left his foot and curved past the defenders, graceful like it belonged to him. It was the first time I ever saw him smile that way — not just confidence, but... clarity. Like for a second, he belonged.
Laz's gang had tried everything — pressing, blocking, chasing — but they couldn't keep up. Jake didn't just play the game… he owned it. The way he passed, read the field, moved like he could see a few seconds into the future.
It was beautiful.
I wanted to run to him.
Say, "That was incredible."
Maybe even, "Take me home with you."
I stepped forward, but Laz's hand closed around my wrist first.
"I'll take you," he said with a grin that made my skin crawl.
I tried to resist. I really did. But I couldn't move. My limbs didn't listen. My voice wouldn't come out.
Jake looked back. For a second.
And then he just… left.
His hoverbike kicked off the dust as he rode away, like none of us mattered.
Laz's voice followed me, echoing in my skull. "Poor thing. He doesn't even want you."
Morning
"Elena?" a voice said gently.
I turned.
It was Mrs. Mia — the old maid from the estate, the only adult who ever looked at me like I was human.
"What's wrong, child?"
I shook my head.
"He ignored me again," I whispered.
Her face softened with quiet pain. She didn't ask who. She already knew.
"You told me he was different," she said. "But difference doesn't always mean safe, my dear."
I nodded, eyes stinging.
"Maybe… maybe I should stop trying."
But I didn't believe those words. Not yet.
Jake POV – Hours Earlier
3:02 AM
I walked into the dorm drenched in sweat, blood, and guilt.
None of the blood was mine. Eighteen agents. Eighteen trained killers. They surrounded me in the ruined district near Sector W, pretending it was just another mission.
They weren't subtle.
I knew they were coming.
They underestimated me.
Big mistake.
I toyed with them for five minutes—disarming, striking, dodging, breaking their confidence. I made sure they all walked away.
But they'll remember.
I left no scars.
Only fear.
By 7:00 AM, I was in my school uniform, heading to the pitch. No one knew where I'd been. No one ever did.
Elena's face flickered through my thoughts. That smile she never shows anymore.
But then I thought of Laz.
I won't humiliate him.
Not now.
Not yet.
Halfway down the field path, I saw them.
Aurora. Laz. Their gang.
Blocking my way.
I didn't even slow down.
"You guys don't want a problem," I said, voice like ice.
They stepped aside.
As they should.
President Hollande POV – Council Room of Ora
The chamber smelled like marble and politics — heavy, expensive, and full of rot.
President Smith Hollande sat at the head of the crescent table, eyes shadowed by the amber light filtering from the glass ceiling above.
For the first time in years, he felt weak.
The council had convened. All three parties: Erold, Meloparty, and Malona (Heroparty). The leaders were growing nervous.
The name "Unknown" had returned. And it carried weight.
"He dismantled a strike squad without surveillance catching a single clear image," a general muttered.
"He's mocking us," another spat. "We trained those agents for years."
President Cadmus of Malona leaned forward, his voice calm, his threat deeper than steel.
"Send in my Disciples."
The room silenced.
"You'd use them for this?" Hollande asked. "They're meant for wartime."
Cadmus smiled faintly. "Then perhaps it's already war."
Author Interlude – The Disciples
They were twelve once.
Orphans. Survivors of a tragic fire that destroyed Havalon Orphanage — a blaze no one investigated too deeply.
President Cadmus found them. Or so the headlines said.
In truth, he took them.
Put them into a research facility deep beneath Malona's earth.
For sixteen years, they were trained like weapons and dressed like heroes.
Pain became routine. Emotions became irrelevant.
They weren't machines. They laughed. They cried. They lived.
But they also bled for the state.
Every mission paid in money and scars. Every victory praised on screens while their homes were lonely, windowless cells.
Among them is Noir — the silent girl with eyes colder than winter glass.
They call her the First Disciple.
She doesn't feel anger.
She simply executes.
Now they've been called again.
To hunt Unknown.
To hunt Jake.
They don't know him. Not yet.
But they will.
And when the Disciples move, death doesn't follow behind.
It walks beside them.
TBC