The abandoned hall reeked of mildew and neglect. Broken glass crunched underfoot as a group of girls huddled in a circle, their whispers echoing off the cracked, peeling walls. A faint breeze pushed through the shattered windows, making the already cold place even chillier.
At the center of the circle lay a heavyset girl, motionless, her uniform stained with dirt, her breath so faint it was barely audible.
"Get up, pig," the leader sneered, her lips curling into a smirk as she kicked the girl with the toe of her polished shoe. "Stop acting like you're dead. You're not fooling anyone."
The other girls shifted uneasily. One chewed her lip, while another glanced toward the rusted doors, as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.
"What if she's… You know… actually dead?" one of them whispered.
The leader rolled her eyes, folding her arms. "And what if she is? Who would care? She's nothing but a useless lump of flesh. Even if her pathetic life ended here, nobody would trace it back to us. She's not important."
A nervous silence followed. Their breaths fogged faintly in the chilly air, and one girl rubbed her arms as if trying to brush away a sudden shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Come on," the leader snapped. "We've wasted enough time. Let's get out of here before anyone sees us."
The group hesitated and then hurried out, their footsteps fading until only silence remained.
For a moment, the hall was still.
Then—
Cough!
The girl on the floor jerked, her chest heaving weakly. A rattling cough tore through her throat as she rolled onto her side. Every movement felt like an effort; her arms trembled and her legs refused to obey. She clawed at the floorboards, dragging herself upright inch by inch.
Her eyes fluttered open. Dusty light poured in from the broken windows, blinding her for a second. She blinked rapidly, trying to piece together her surroundings.
Where… was this?
Her throat burned like fire, and her body felt sluggish and heavy. She glanced down and froze.
A school uniform?
Her fingers pinched the fabric of the pleated skirt, disbelief washing over her. Just moments ago—hadn't she been on a mission? She remembered the smell of gunpowder, the target in her sight, her finger tightening on the trigger.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
No. She wasn't supposed to be… this.
Her gaze darted around wildly until she spotted a cracked shard of mirror leaning against the wall. Stumbling forward, she picked it up with trembling fingers.
The reflection staring back at her made her heart stop.
A bloated, round face. Puffy cheeks. Small, frightened eyes. The face of a girl who had clearly been bullied one too many times.
Her lips parted, but at first, no sound came out. Then a bitter laugh escaped her.
"You've got to be kidding me."
From silencing men with a single strike… to this? To wheezing inside the body of a trembling, pathetic schoolgirl?
Her hands clenched the mirror until it cracked further in her grasp.
Frantically, she searched the body—checking the pockets, the skirt, anywhere that might reveal a clue. Her fingers brushed against something rectangular. A phone. She pulled it out, her breath hitching.
Unlocked.
Not hers.
She swiped the screen, scrolling through unfamiliar photos of the girl whose body she now occupied. Images of students in uniforms. Mocking text messages flashed on the screen, filled with laughter at "Fatty Lila."
Lila. That was her name.
Her jaw tightened.
She lifted the mirror shard again, staring at her reflection, as though her sheer will could burn away the truth. But no matter how hard she looked, her face remained the same—soft, weak, unrecognizable.
Memories hit her like lightning. The stone. That cunning man's sly smile. His voice urged her to "just touch it."
Her last thought before darkness had swallowed her whole.
Her breath quickened, fury igniting inside her chest.
"That cunning man… tricked me."
Her grip tightened, and the mirror shard sliced into her palm, warm blood dripping onto the dusty floorboards. She didn't flinch.
Her lips curved upward, but it wasn't a smile. It was a predator's snarl, sharp and cold.
"No one tricks me," she whispered, her voice laced with venom. "Not him. Not fate. And certainly not this miserable world."
Her eyes gleamed with something lethal, something terrifying.
"If this is the body I've been given… then so be it. I'll use it. But I'll make them all regret ever crossing me."
The weak, bullied Lila was gone.
What rose in her place was something else entirely.