Laughter crashed against the back of Leon's neck like heat.
He stared at the smudged text in the book, as if the words could shield him—especially from her.
"I mean, honestly," Vera's voice cut through the classroom chatter with a sweet and venomous texture.
"Does he think staring at the building will make his father's work any less pathetic? Or earn respect?"
The words hung in the air, aimed directly at him. Leon's knuckles whitened around the edge of his desk.
In this glass-walled academy, he was the only one with a father who worked with his hands, who always came home smelling of sweat and solvent instead of money and power.
He focused on the distant silhouette of the Granum Tower, a needle scratching the underbelly of the sky.
His father was up there right now, on the scaffold, adding colors to its surface. The thought was usually a knot of anxiety and pride. But today, under Vera's scorn, it was just shame.
'Dad… I'll make you proud, take you out of your work, and earn you respect.'
A tear slipped down his cheek, falling with the drifting leaf outside the window.
A chorus of synchronized chimes erupted around the room, then another. Smart devices lit up on every wrist and desk. A low murmur of interest stirred, replacing the lazy hum of the afternoon.
A gasp cut through the murmur. Leon didn't need to look; he could picture her tossing her hair, soaking in the attention. With Vera, everything was a performance.
"Oh, my gods, guys, have you seen the news? A plane crash! Guess where this one landed?"
Leon didn't look up; he had no device to check. He just kept staring at the Granum Tower, at the tiny speck he imagined to be his dad's scaffold.
Vera cleared her throat, pulling his attention back to her. Leon's gaze flicked past her just long enough to catch Zoe's eyes.
They were steady and calm, as if she was holding something back. Then, Vera's voice sliced through the numbness, each word hitting like a poisoned dart.
"It says it hit a building under maintenance near an outbreak site." She said, and he could hear the ugly joy in it.
"They say the plane hit a building near an outbreak zone." She smiled. "Guess painters got more than paint on them—probably monster blood too."
Leon's chest froze. Outbreak zone. Granum Tower.
For a second, the classroom vanished. Every sound was drained out. Only Vera's smug face moved, but her words had become meaningless noise.
"Guess their families can pick up the brushes now." Her stare shimmered in Leon's mind like polished staff. A cracking sound echoed around Leon as he tightened his fist.
'No. Not Dad. Not there.'
Leon's chest locked, causing his breath to claw for escape. His book slipped from his hands and smacked the floor with a sound that echoed in the sudden silence of his own mind.
"NO…"
He was moving before he could think, fumbling in his patched bag for the ancient, cracked communicator his family had shared through ages.
His hands trembled so violently as he raised it, causing him to nearly drop it.
With shaking breaths and tear-filled eyes, he hit the single speed-dial button. Home. It rang and rang, but no response came.
He tried again countless times, but the empty tone that played turned like a nail in his own coffin.
The other students' whispers now felt like they were shouted directly into his ears.
As he looked around nervously, he caught Jade's indifferent glance, Zoe's steady gaze, and Tiger's predatory grin.
They were all looking at him like a shadow. They knew; they all knew his father was there.
But Zoe's eyes were different. There was no mockery in them, no pity either—just a quiet look he couldn't quite name, one that stayed with him longer than he wanted to admit.
"Some people are just born unlucky." Vera's laugh rang like shattering glass. "Guess that's what happens when your dad's just a painter."
Then, a shadow fell over his desk. Mr. Lee stood at the classroom door, his face pale, his kind eyes etched with a grief so profound it stole the last air from Leon's lungs.
The teacher's gaze found Leon's and held it like bonded chains.
"Leon," Mr. Lee said, his voice low and rough with an emotion Leon had never heard from him before. "A word, in my office. Now."
Leon felt every head turn, their stares glaring down on him, bright and merciless as streetlights.
The laughter was gone, replaced by a ringing, anticipatory silence that comes before a storm.
Leon rose on unsteady legs, the world a blurred vision. He had a restless mind and tear-blurred eyes.
He knew, with a certainty that was colder than fear, that he was walking toward the confirmation that his world had just collapsed.
"Don't worry," Vera whispered as he passed. "We're here for you, as we always do." This time she didn't laugh. She just smirked and whispered sweetly.
Every step was a battle. Every breath burned in his chest.
Mr. Lee didn't speak and didn't wait for him either. They walked until they were at his office door, where no prying eyes could see them.
He placed a heavy hand on Leon's shoulder and exhaled deeply. "I saw the news," Mr. Lee said, his voice low, carrying a grief Leon had never heard before.
"I know your father was at the Granum Tower today. I am… so sorry, Leon."
The words landed like a verdict in Leon's mind, causing the last flicker of hope in his heart to gutter and die.
He stared at the pristine floor, unable to speak, unable to breathe either. Sorry. People said they were sorry when there was no hope left.
"Let me take you home," Mr. Lee offered. "You shouldn't be alone."
Numb, Leon just nodded. He followed Mr. Lee through the gleaming halls, a ghost in a world of vibrant, careless life.
Every window seemed like a prison's gate. Eyes drew to them like holes in a fishing net.
But among the wide eyes, one stayed still, unblinking. Just staring like the destroyer of worlds.
'Why?! I won't believe it until I see his body with my own eyes.'
As the door opened wide, sunlight stabbed into his eyes. Leon's knees buckled, but Mr. Lee's hand steadied him, pushing him forward.
The world stayed a blur, each step seeming like a stumble through brightness and noise.
He barely noticed when Mr. Lee opened the sleek silver car and also barely felt himself slide into the seat.
His thoughts stirred only when the engine hummed as the city began to move past the window.
His vision began fully clear as they moved past a military tanker streaked with ichor.
'Another outbreak?' The thought clawed in, but his mind couldn't hold it as it snapped back to the one truth he wasn't sure of.
'Dad. Tower. Crash.'
As they drove past them, they climbed a high-arching bridge in a speeding silence. Through the tinted glass, the city unfurled like two separate worlds in Leon's gaze.
On his left, towers gleamed, their floating gardens drifting on anti-gravity platforms like ornaments of power.
And on his right, crammed into the river basin like an open wound, was Dusthollow. His home.
A tangled mess of crumbling concrete, rusted metal, and laundry lines sagging between collapsing towers.
At the height they were on, Dusthollow looked nothing like home; instead, it looked like a scar he wished he could erase.
Being the first place to experience the monster outbreak, it had secrets the elders ran away from when asked for answers.