By Monday, it was no longer just whispers.
It was stares.
Open, unblinking, shameless stares.
At lunch, at her locker, in class. Every hallway Aara walked down felt narrower than the one before. She felt it in the silence that stretched too long after she passed. In the way certain classmates wouldn't meet her eyes.
They knew.
Not all of them. But enough.
The name Ash had slipped into the wrong mouths. And in a place like this, truth didn't matter nearly as much as entertainment.
Rumors were stories.
And stories were currency.
Aara could already hear the fiction being written in real time.
"She fights for money.""She broke a guy's nose in the alley behind the 24-hour diner.""I heard she stabbed someone once.""She's in a gang.""She does it because her dad's in jail."
None of it was true.
Except the parts that were.
She kept her head down through most of the day, pretending the heat crawling up her spine wasn't real. Pretending the comments didn't land.
But pretending got harder when she saw the graffiti scrawled in red marker across her desk during fourth period:
"ASH BURNS."
Below it:"Try me."
Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
Her stomach didn't drop.
It burned.
Haru didn't show up to class that day.
But his absence felt louder than any presence.
Because by last period, three things had happened:
A senior named Jinwoo left school early — with a bloody nose and a split lip
A group chat connected to the original rumor mysteriously disappeared overnight
Minji wasn't in school either
And everyone knew exactly who was responsible.
He was waiting for her after school, leaning against the fence near the back exit.
Still in uniform.
Still looking like something beautiful and feral.
"You shouldn't have done it," she said, walking past him.
He fell into step beside her.
"He lied about you. I handled it."
"You don't need to 'handle' things I can fight for myself."
Haru's tone didn't change. "I know you can. Doesn't mean I want you to."
They walked in silence for a block.
Aara could feel his mood even before he spoke again — not rage. Something colder. Calculating.
"I don't want them talking about you," he finally said. "Not like that. Not like you're a myth they can twist into something dirty."
"You can't control what people say."
"No," he said, voice low. "But I can control how scared they are to say it again."
They stopped outside the corner shop. He looked at her then — really looked.
And she could see it: the quiet storm under his skin. The way he was holding himself back.
Haru wasn't just angry. He was focused.
"Listen to me," he said. "You're not a secret anymore."
She didn't reply.
"I need you to understand what that means."
"I do."
"You don't," he said. "But you will."
That night, Haru made his first real move.
He pulled strings — quietly, forcefully.
Paid a friend's older brother to delete any posts connected to the name Ash.Tied it to a burner IP address that would redirect anyone searching for her name.Used a private account to feed the school a new lie — that Ash was a dropout from another city, a tall guy with a scar across his lip.
A story strong enough to distract.
A lie strong enough to cover the truth.
For now.
Aara didn't ask him to do any of it.
She didn't thank him either.
But when he showed up at her door that night with a bag of food and no explanation, she let him in without a word.
They didn't talk about the fight.
They didn't talk about the rumor.
He sat on her floor, handed her a drink, and leaned back like this was just how things were now.
And maybe it was.
Because Haru wasn't just protecting her.
He was rebuilding the myth around her — piece by piece, lie by lie.
And Aara?
She was starting to wonder if she was okay with it.
Because for once…
The mask was easier to wear than the truth.