Oakridge didn't celebrate victories.
It swallowed them.
The morning after the basement incident arrived quietly—too quietly. No announcements. No assemblies. Just rumors slipping through corridors like whispers under locked doors.
James and his group were gone. Suspended. Transferred. No one knew which. The administration called it "an internal matter."
To the students, it was a warning.
**Aftermath**
Aarvin stood on the terrace outside the academic block, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky. The storm inside him hadn't passed—it had only learned to stay silent.
Riyan leaned against the railing beside him. "You notice something weird?"
Aarvin didn't look away. "People are scared."
"Not just scared," Riyan said. "They're… careful."
Across the courtyard, juniors moved aside when Aarvin walked past. Seniors stopped conversations halfway. No one stared openly anymore.
Adrien joined them, hands in his pockets. "Fear doesn't mean respect," he said. "It just means silence."
"And silence breaks," Aarvin replied.
Adrien smiled faintly. "Exactly."
**John's Weight**
John hadn't slept.
He sat alone in the library, staring at a blank notebook like it had personally betrayed him. The knife from the basement lay locked away in his drawer, but its weight still pressed against his chest.
He had chosen Aarvin's side.
That didn't mean the past stopped watching him.
Someone slid into the chair across from him.
Not aggressive. Not rushed.
Just… present.
John looked up.
The boy was unfamiliar—tall, neatly dressed, dark hair tied back loosely. His eyes were sharp, but calm. Too calm.
"You dropped this," the boy said, placing a folded paper on the table.
John frowned. "I didn't—"
Then he saw it.
His handwriting.
His breath hitched. "Who are you?"
The boy smiled, polite and empty. "A friend of consequences."
John stiffened. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet," the boy replied softly, "neither should you."
**The Name**
The boy leaned back slightly. "You picked the storm."
John swallowed. "I picked survival."
"Same thing," the boy said. "Different excuses."
Silence stretched.
Then the boy spoke again.
"Lucien Crowe."
The name meant nothing.
And somehow, that made it worse.
John blinked. "Should I know you?"
Lucien's smile sharpened—not cruel, not kind. Calculated.
"No," he said. "But Aarvin will."
**The Observation**
Lucien stood, straightening his coat. "Tell him this for me."
John didn't move. "Tell him what?"
"That storms don't destroy systems," Lucien said. "They expose who built them poorly."
He paused. "And Oakridge was built very carefully."
John's pulse raced. "Are you threatening him?"
Lucien shook his head. "I don't threaten. I observe."
He turned to leave, then stopped.
"Oh—and John?"
John looked up.
"You made the correct choice," Lucien said calmly. "That doesn't mean you're safe."
Then he walked away, footsteps fading into the quiet.
### **Shift**
That evening, Adrien entered Aarvin's room without knocking.
"We've got a new variable," he said.
Aarvin looked up. "James loyalists?"
Adrien shook his head. "Worse. Someone smarter."
He placed a single name on the table.
**Lucien Crowe**
Aarvin read it once. Then again.
"Who's that?" Riyan asked.
Adrien met Aarvin's eyes. "Someone who didn't show up for the fight."
Aarvin leaned back slowly, tension coiling beneath his calm.
"And yet," he said quietly, "he already knows my name."
Outside, thunder rolled—far away, restrained.
The storm wasn't over.
It was being watched.
* *To be continued…*