The festival lights stayed on the next day.
Like nothing had happened.
Like the brief blackout had only been imagination.
Like the world had simply blinked.
Morning sunlight spilled across the campus lawns, warm and golden, revealing scattered paper cups, confetti stuck in the grass, and half-deflated balloons swaying lazily in the breeze.
Evidence of last night's chaos.
But everything else?
Normal.
Too normal.
Lior walked through the gates with a yawn, backpack hanging off one shoulder.
His legs still ached.
His brain felt like it had been squeezed dry.
He barely slept.
Not because of the blackout.
He wasn't scared of small things like that.
It was just—
his thoughts had been too loud.
Mostly about one person.
Which was incredibly annoying.
"…Stop thinking about him," he muttered to himself.
Because every time he closed his eyes—
he remembered that moment.
Dark field.
Noise.
And a hand catching his wrist instantly.
Firm.
Protective.
Like losing him wasn't an option.
His ears burned.
"…It was just instinct," he told himself.
Anyone would help someone nearby.
Right?
Right.
The literature stall looked half-dead in the daylight.
Decorations drooping.
Tape peeling.
Books messy again.
Sena sat on a chair like a defeated soldier.
"…I can't feel my legs," she said.
"You're sitting."
"Exactly."
Tomas was lying on the grass dramatically.
"I've transcended pain."
"You tripped over air yesterday," Lior said.
"That air attacked me first."
Mireo tossed a bottle cap at him.
"Drama king."
Lior laughed softly.
Everything felt the same.
Their silly arguments.
Their stupid jokes.
This world hadn't changed.
Which should've been comforting.
But for some reason—
he kept glancing around unconsciously.
As if expecting something.
Or someone.
He didn't see Kaizen all morning.
Which was weird.
Too weird.
Because lately—
Kaizen appeared almost every day.
Like clockwork.
Like the campus had become part of his routine.
"…Why am I even noticing?" Lior muttered, annoyed at himself.
He should be relieved.
Not disappointed.
Definitely not disappointed.
Across the city—
sixty floors above ground—
Kaizen stood in a silent conference room.
A large screen glowed in front of him.
Security footage.
Festival night.
Electrical panel area.
Time stamps.
One of his assistants spoke quietly.
"Power disruption lasted eight minutes, sir. Not a random overload. Manual interference."
"Source?"
"Temporary wiring near the east stage. Someone accessed the panel."
Kaizen's expression didn't change.
But the air in the room felt colder.
"Camera?"
"Blocked briefly."
"Blocked?"
"Angle covered. Intentionally."
Silence.
Too deliberate to be an accident.
Too clean.
Someone had planned it.
And someone had chosen that exact spot.
Kaizen replayed the footage again.
Frame by frame.
Crowd.
Lights.
Movement.
Then—
a glimpse.
A familiar silhouette near the panel.
Silver ring catching light.
Just for half a second.
But enough.
Kaizen's eyes sharpened.
"…Zyren," he said quietly.
His assistant stiffened.
"Should we—"
"No."
The single word stopped everything.
"…Not yet."
Because if Zyren was making a move now—
he wanted to know why.
And more importantly—
who he was aiming for.
But deep down—
Kaizen already knew.
Back at the campus—
Lior finished his afternoon shift at the café.
His back hurt.
His fingers smelled like coffee grounds.
But tips today were decent.
He counted coins again.
Always counting.
Always calculating.
"…You're saving for something?" Mireo asked, leaning on the counter.
"Rent."
"…That's depressing."
"Life is depressing."
"True."
They shared a small laugh.
Then she nudged him.
"That scary rich guy didn't come today?"
Lior choked on air. "Why are you asking like that?!"
"Because he's basically your shadow now."
"He is not!"
"He is."
"…He's just… Alaric's brother."
"Sure," she smirked.
He threw a napkin at her.
But his chest felt oddly hollow.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Evening classes ended late.
The sky turned purple.
Most students left early, still tired from the festival.
Lior walked through the quieter hallways alone.
For once—
no noise.
No music.
Just footsteps echoing.
Peaceful.
He liked this time of day.
Less overwhelming.
Less staring.
He stopped by a vending machine, digging through his pocket for coins.
Only two left.
"…Great."
He sighed.
"Short again?"
A voice spoke beside him.
Smooth.
Too smooth.
Lior looked up.
A stranger.
Tall.
Sharp features.
Expensive clothes.
Confident smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"…Do I know you?" Lior asked.
"Not yet," the man said lightly. "But I know you."
"…That's creepy."
"Relax. You're pretty noticeable on campus."
He slipped a coin into the machine and pressed a button.
A drink dropped.
He handed it to Lior casually.
"Consider it kindness."
"…Why?"
"Why not?"
Something about him felt off.
Not aggressive.
Not loud.
Just—
wrong.
Like a smile drawn on glass.
"…I'm Zyren," he added.
The name felt unfamiliar.
But for some reason—
Lior's instincts prickled.
Like a quiet alarm.
"…Lior," he said carefully.
"I know."
That answer made his stomach twist.
Zyren tilted his head, studying him.
"…You're interesting," he said softly.
"…Thanks?"
"People with power seem drawn to you."
"…What?"
"Nothing."
A faint smile.
Too knowing.
Too sharp.
"…See you around."
And just like that—
he walked away.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Like he'd already gotten what he wanted.
Lior stood there staring after him.
Heart uneasy.
"…Weird," he muttered.
For the first time in days—
that uneasy feeling returned.
Stronger.
Outside the gate—
a black car waited.
Engine running quietly.
Kaizen leaned against it, arms crossed.
Watching.
The moment Zyren exited the building—
their eyes met.
Across the distance.
Cold recognition.
Silent challenge.
Zyren smiled.
Mocking.
Then left.
Kaizen's jaw tightened.
A slow, controlled anger settling in.
Because now—
it wasn't just suspicion.
Zyren had approached Lior directly.
And that—
crossed a line.
"…You're here again?" Lior said when he noticed him.
"…Yes."
"…Do you just live near my schedule now?"
"…Possibly."
"…That's creepy."
"…I've accepted that."
Lior rolled his eyes.
But somehow—
the tightness in his chest eased immediately.
"…Walk?" Kaizen asked.
"…Yeah."
They walked side by side.
Quiet street.
Soft wind.
City lights glowing.
For a moment—
everything felt calm again.
Then Lior spoke.
"…Hey."
"Yes."
"…Do you know someone named Zyren?"
Kaizen stopped walking.
Just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
"…Why?" he asked.
"I met him today. Weird guy."
Silence.
Then—
"…Stay away from him."
His voice wasn't cold.
It wasn't harsh.
It was something worse.
Serious.
Like a warning carved in stone.
"…Why?"
"…Because I said so."
"…That's not an answer."
"…It's the only one I'm giving."
Lior frowned.
"…You're being dramatic."
"…Maybe."
But his eyes didn't soften this time.
Didn't joke.
And suddenly—
Lior realized something.
Kaizen wasn't overprotective.
He wasn't hovering.
He wasn't just "weird."
He was worried.
Actually worried.
For him.
And that realization…
felt heavier than anything else.
Behind them—
far down the street—
a figure watched from the shadows.
Hands in pockets.
Patient.
Smiling faintly.
Because pieces were moving exactly how he wanted.
And the game—
had only just begun.