The corridor outside the lecture hall buzzed with voices, but to Racheal it felt strangely muted, as if her senses were still trapped in that moment—his words echoing, his laughter clinging to her like smoke she couldn't shake off.
She walked quickly, heels clicking against the floor, refusing to glance back. Every step was a silent declaration: I won't give you more power. I won't let you see me rattled.
Yet her mind betrayed her. Black Queen. The way he said it—mocking, yet laced with something she couldn't name—stuck like a thorn. She hated it. She hated him. And she hated herself even more for how the words refused to leave her head.
"Racheal!"
The sound of her name made her tense. For a heartbeat she feared it was him again, but when she turned, it was Erica jogging toward her, clutching a notebook.
Racheal's chest tightened. What now? she thought bitterly. Is she here to add fuel to everything? To remind me of the whispers, the stares, the accusations? Hasn't she done enough already?
She faced forward again, quickening her steps, but Erica caught up and fell in beside her.
"Hey," Erica said softly, a little breathless. "Wait."
Racheal forced her voice to stay steady. "What do you want, Erica?"
"I just—" Erica faltered, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I wanted to talk. Please."
Racheal's jaw tightened. She remembered too well the way Erica had pulled back when the rumors spread—the way she had looked at her with suspicion instead of trust. Of all people, Racheal had believed Erica would stand by her. Instead, she had chosen silence. That wound still stung.
Before Racheal could respond, laughter drifted from behind. Not the crowd's. His. Low, deliberate, far too close.
Her breath caught. Erica's eyes narrowed. "It's him again, isn't it?"
Racheal didn't answer. She only pressed forward. Ignore him.
But ignoring Mr. Unknown had never been that simple.
His presence clung like a shadow, his footsteps faintly echoing behind them. And then, just as they reached the stairwell, his voice curled into her ear like smoke:
"You wear defiance so well, Racheal."
She froze.
Her name.
He knew her name.
Erica grabbed her arm and pulled hard. "Don't stop. Just keep moving."
They rushed down the stairwell, bursting into the courtyard where the crowd thinned. Racheal finally exhaled, but her pulse raced wildly.
"Racheal…" Erica's voice was quieter now, heavy with hesitation. She slowed and looked at her with regretful eyes. "I owe you an apology."
Racheal shot her a guarded look. "An apology?"
"Yes." Erica clutched her notebook tighter. "For everything. The rumors. The way I treated you. I should've known better. You trusted me, and instead of standing by you, I turned away. I believed gossip without ever asking you for the truth."
Her voice cracked. "I accused you in my head, when I should've defended you. That wasn't fair. It wasn't right."
Racheal's throat tightened. A dozen retorts burned on her tongue—Why now? Why only after everything? Do you know how badly you hurt me?—but the raw guilt in Erica's tone silenced them.
Erica swallowed hard. "I just need you to know I'm sorry. Truly. And I promise—I'll be here for you from now on. No matter what. You're not alone in this, Racheal."
For the first time that day, something in Racheal's chest loosened. The tension, the smirk, the whispers—all of it blurred for a heartbeat. She managed a faint, genuine smile. "Thank you, Erica."
They walked side by side across the courtyard. For a fleeting moment, it felt almost like old times—lighter, warmer.
But then—
That laugh again. Low. Mocking. Cutting through the air like a knife.
Racheal stiffened.
She didn't dare look back.
Because she already knew.
Mr. Unknown was still watching.
And now, he carried her name.