University mornings always hum with a fevered kind of life—the laughter, the low buzz of clever minds dodging boredom. My footsteps echo on clean linoleum as I slip through the main hall, careful, invisible, yet never unseen. Everyone sees a perfect student: Illiana Rose, best grades, polite voice, a smile too practiced to be real.
Jay catches up to me just outside the lecture theatre, his leather jacket thrown over a crisp shirt—a rebellion wrapped in gloss. He grins, dropping his bag at my feet, his storm-grey eyes flickering with something restless.
"Late again?" he teases, grinning wider.
"If you stopped charming every professor, maybe we'd both manage to seem average," I murmur, nudging his shoulder. Jay laughs, tossing his golden hair out of his eyes. I sometimes wonder what darkness he keeps hidden beneath that laughter, but I never ask.
We pass through the courtyard, warm light streaming over ordered flowerbeds and the old library—a maze of books and secrets. The librarian, Noah, stands on the steps, glasses perched on his nose, his gaze following us. He's too observant, that one. Slender, always in sweater vests, his chestnut hair falling into thoughtful brown eyes. He waves at me, almost shy. I only nod.
Today's lecture should have been as dull as usual—Economic Systems, the kind of theory that numbs ambition. But Professor Reed walks in with a shadow in his eyes I've never seen before. His suit is impeccable, but there's something new—an intensity, a challenge underneath his calm. Students whisper about his past, but no one knows anything. A university icon, they say. A mystery, I think.
The class slides by in a blur, notes and words whirlwinded together. Adrian, my secretary, sits at the edge of the hall, sharp as ever. His white hair glints under the harsh ceiling lights, and his green eyes scan the room. He's always watching, sometimes I catch him studying people like threats. No one dares talk to him unless they have to.
When the lecture ends, Jay heads off for training, flashing me a casual wave. Noah finds me as I leave, offering a book I'd requested—a volume on surveillance, oddly fitting. He whispers, "You read dangerous things," before vanishing into the stacks. For a moment, I feel exposed.
By midday, rumors ripple through the campus—a new organization, something dark and silent. Students murmur the name: Black Sea Guild. Whispers of theft, of violence, of hidden power. Some say it's just another urban legend. But when Professor Reed passes by and catches my eye, a chill runs down my spine. The threat isn't distant. It's in the walls, in the corners. And I am beginning to realize that innocence is my greatest weapon.
On the way home, Adrian drives in silence. The city slides by, all glitter and rot. He asks, almost too quietly, "Did you notice anything out of place?"
I answer truthfully. "Everything feels wrong today."
He smiles at the road, a promise in the cold twist of his lips. "Then we'll fix it."
We all pretend. We all hide. But some secrets are seeds—the kind that split concrete, no matter how hard you try to cover them up.
And today, the cracks are beginning to show.