Racheal finally drew in a quiet breath and said softly, "I've heard you, Margaret. But I'm late for class."
Without waiting for another word, she adjusted her bag strap and began walking away.
Margaret's lips trembled as she called out behind her, "Thank you… thank you for at least listening to me." Her voice was heavy with regret, and though Racheal didn't turn back, she could feel the weight of those words lingering in the air.
As she made her way toward the lecture hall, every step felt heavier than the last. Margaret's confession replayed itself in her mind—Benedicta's threats, the manipulation, and most of all, the revelation about Mr. Collins.
Mr. Collins… Mr. Unknown… they're the same person.
Her heart gave a sharp thud. The truth unsettled her more than she cared to admit. All this while, she had hated him, blamed him for everything—yet, if Margaret's words were true, then the same man she despised was the one who had stepped in to shield her when the video spread.
She clenched her fists at her sides, frustration welling in her chest. "Why didn't he say anything? Why hide behind a mask?" she whispered under her breath. The silence offered no answer.
By the time she slid into her seat, the lecture had already begun, but the professor's words were nothing more than noise. Her pen hovered uselessly over her notebook as her thoughts spiraled. If Mr. Collins and Mr. Unknown are one and the same, then what else don't I know about him?
Her chest tightened as a new fear crept in. Was she wrong about him all this time? Or was this just another trick?
She pressed her palm to her temple, but it did little to calm her racing mind. Concentration was impossible. The classroom felt stifling, suffocating. Her world had tilted, and for the first time, Racheal realized she was no longer sure who the enemy truly was.