Nick ended up spending New Year's with us.
He'd saved my life.
No one here knew that.
And thankfully—
no one asked.
It was him who told Robert that while alcohol was technically banned, people looked the other way during the holidays.
As long as you didn't make a mess.
Robert instantly decided Nick was his kind of person.
Didn't stop him from bringing up the bathroom incident.
Over.
And over.
Nick, completely serious, kept confirming it.
"Yes. That's exactly what happened."
Eventually, Robert gave up.
"You're impossible," he said. "Like a rock. Nothing gets to you."
I was enjoying it.
Mostly.
Still—
something felt off.
Andrew.
I'd planned to spend the break with him. Stay at his place.
That was gone now.
Thanks to Taisha.
And he was probably somewhere else. With friends. He'd never mentioned family.
"Give me the bottle already!" Alma snapped.
"You had wine! That's enough for you!" Miguel shot back, trying to grab the whiskey.
"So what, girls can't drink?" she snapped. "I'll outdrink all of you."
"Just give it to her," Sol cut in. "She's completely sober."
"Why are you hugging juice?" Robert jabbed me in the shoulder. "Drink."
"I don't handle alcohol well," I said, raising a hand. "And before you say anything—no, I'm not interested."
Then I grabbed the cup—
and downed it.
Bad idea.
Heat hit first.
Then dizziness.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to reach for juice.
Don't react.
Don't—
Nick brushed the back of his hand against my cheek.
"You're burning up," he said, frowning. "Maybe stop pouring more into him?"
"Oh, relax," Robert laughed. "He'll survive. Better he learns with a professional nearby."
Professional, my ass.
You're already drunk—
And then—
I froze.
Near Alma—
near Koni, who was holding her wrist—
something appeared.
A faint haze.
Thin.
Shimmering.
Then—
thicker.
The room went quiet.
Too quiet.
Everyone turned.
"What…" someone whispered.
Nick leaned forward slightly.
"That's… bodily memory."
"What?" Robert snapped.
Nick didn't answer.
Just pointed.
We watched.
The haze twisted—
formed—
A hand.
Translucent.
Wrapped around Alma's wrist.
Then—
like something rewinding—
the past unfolded.
"Stop!" Alma shouted.
Koni jerked her hand away—
But it didn't matter.
The image held.
Then played.
A third-year elite stood in front of Alma.
"Come on," he said. "Stop pretending. You've done this before. I'll pay more."
"Get lost! I don't do that!"
"Yeah? That's not what I heard."
"Then go to whoever told you that!"
Her voice—
sharp.
Familiar.
"Drop the act. A slut's always a slut. Or what—think you'll get something out of Holivan? He's nothing now. Think it through."
"You're trash compared to Alan," she snapped. "And tell Korhenger—no matter what he says, I won't stop talking to him!"
"He's still an aristocrat. You think he'll stay friendly when he finds out? He wouldn't even touch you. He'd be disgusted."
"Get lost!"
The memory snapped—
shattered—
gone.
Silence.
Heavy.
Alma looked at me.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then she ran.
"Alma—!"
Door slammed.
I moved—
Matthew grabbed my arm.
"Alan. If you're going to say something—"
"I don't care about her past," I snapped.
He let go.
I ran.
Hallway.
Empty.
Her room—nothing.
Showers—empty.
Restroom.
Lounge.
Nowhere.
Footsteps behind me.
I turned.
"Outside," Nick said. "Behind the dorm."
"…Thanks."
He handed me a bottle.
Two cups.
"You know," I said, managing a faint smile, "I'm glad we get along."
Then I stepped out into the cold.
There she was.
Curled against the wall.
Small.
Too small.
"There you are," I breathed.
"Go away," she said.
Didn't even look at me.
"What if I don't?"
"I said I don't want to hear it."
Now she looked at me.
Eyes sharp.
Guarded.
"Good," I said, lifting the bottle. "I didn't come to talk. I came to drink. You'll freeze out here."
"…Sorry," she muttered as I poured.
"For what?" I said. "Alma—you're my friend. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Even after what you saw?" she laughed bitterly.
"I know who you are now," I said. "The Alma who helped me. Who talks too much. Who cares about people."
She downed the whiskey in one go.
"I'm not sick," she said.
I drank too—
immediately choking.
…Yeah. Still hate it.
"I never thought you were."
"That's because you're still naive," she said with a sad smile. "My old job… it comes with risks. Specific ones. I got lucky. Nothing incurable."
"…That's good."
Her hand—
blue from the cold.
Still gripping the empty cup.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go inside. You'll freeze."
She shook her head.
"Then the lounge. It's empty. We sit. Then we go back. Celebrate properly."
She hesitated.
Then—
nodded.
We went inside.
Into the quiet.