Tears burned in Clover's emerald eyes as she stared at Gorge—the school heartthrob she had chased for five years.
He stood beside Recheal.
The school beauty.
Reality settled in like a blade.
She had been used.
"Look at you, Clover," Gorge scoffed, his voice dripping with disgust. "Who would go out with a girl like you?"
Recheal tightened her hold on his arm, smiling with quiet cruelty.
Then she stepped forward.
"I'm sorry, Clover," she said, though her tone held no apology. "I was the one who asked Gorge to make you confess a hundred times."
A pause.
Mockery deepened in her eyes.
"But I didn't think you'd actually be stupid enough to believe he'd date you."
Clover's grip tightened around the red rose in her hand. The stem dug into her skin, but she didn't feel it.
Around them, students gathered.
Phones raised.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Isn't that Mr. Grump?"
"The hundredth confession, right?"
"Didn't he say he'd accept this time?"
"Then why is Recheal here?"
Soft laughter.
Low voices.
Cruel amusement.
"There's no way Gorge would date her."
"Look at him and Recheal—they match perfectly."
Clover stood still, her chest tightening with every word.
"Wait…" Gorge let out a laugh. "You didn't actually believe me, did you?"
The sound hit harder than anything else.
It dragged up every humiliation she had endured.
"Don't blame me," he continued. "If you looked a bit more like a lady… maybe I would've considered it."
His gaze turned cold.
"Look at your cousin, Helen."
Clover's expression darkened.
"She's better than you," he said without hesitation. "That's the one I wanted."
His lips curled.
"I wanted to get close to you just to get to her."
Clover froze.
"I mean," he added casually, "have you seen her? That body… I bet she'd be sweet."
A ripple of shock moved through the crowd.
Gorge clicked his tongue in irritation.
"But she kept saying it was wrong. Said you liked me."
He scoffed.
"Who cares about what's wrong?"
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Then—
"You're just Mr. Grump, Clover."
Something in her snapped.
Five years.
Five years of chasing him.
Five years of humiliation.
And this… was the truth.
Her fist moved before her mind could catch up.
Impact.
Her punch landed squarely against his cheek.
Gorge's body lifted off the ground and crashed hard a few feet away.
A collective scream erupted from the students as they stumbled back, creating space.
Silence followed.
Clover stood there, breathing hard.
Then she let go of the rose.
It fell to the ground.
Crushed.
Without another word, she turned and ran.
She didn't stop.
Not until—
She saw him.
Standing ahead.
Still.
Unmoving.
Dylan.
Black hair fell across his forehead, shadowing eyes that burned a deep crimson-brown.
They locked onto her.
Heavy.
Unreadable.
Dominant.
The air shifted.
Clover's steps faltered.
Embarrassment wrapped around her throat, suffocating.
Of all people…
He had seen everything.
Her humiliation.
Her desperation.
Her weakness.
Dylan didn't speak.
He just watched.
And somehow, that was worse.
Clover lowered her head and ran past him as fast as she could.
She didn't dare look back.
Clover was eighteen.
She had never had a boyfriend.
Not because she didn't want one—
But because no one ever wanted her.
They called her Mr. Grump.
A name she pretended didn't matter.
It did.
She wasn't like other girls. She didn't dress well. Didn't act soft. Didn't fit into anyone's idea of "ladylike."
She wore whatever she found.
That was enough.
Unlike Helen.
Helen was everything Clover wasn't—beautiful, effortless, admired.
The kind of girl people chose without thinking.
Clover was always compared to her.
And always lost.
She tried once.
Tried to be seen.
Tried to be liked.
It ended the same way every time.
Rejection.
So she stopped trying.
Told herself it didn't matter.
But sometimes—
It still hurt.
Her parents told her she was beautiful.
She never believed them.
Because the world had already said otherwise.
Clover wasn't special.
Wasn't outstanding.
Wasn't wanted.
She was just…
Clover.
A girl with a strange name.
A bad reputation.
And a life that never seemed to go right.
But lately—
Something felt wrong.
The dreams.
Too real.
A woman who looked like her.
A monster.
And the red mark on her neck that shouldn't exist.
Sometimes…
She wondered—
Was she really just Clover?
Or—
Had something already begun to awaken inside her?
___________________________________
_______________
Deep within a forgotten cave…
A thin beam of sunlight pierced through a crack in the ceiling.
It struck an ancient casket.
The wood was rotted, split with age, stained by time. Dust stirred in the air, rising like restless spirits.
For a thousand years—
He had been dead.
And now—
Warmth.
Sunlight.
His thoughts stirred slowly.
Who dares…?
Cold. Sharp.
Who is bold enough to wake me?
His eyes opened.
The light burned into them, forcing a low hiss from his cracked lips. His body jerked upright.
Bones snapped.
Joints twisted.
A violent grinding sound echoed through the cave.
He inhaled sharply.
"I am free…"
His voice was hoarse.
Inhuman.
"I am free."
A broken laugh tore from his throat.
Wild.
Unstable.
Alive.
His gaze shifted.
A young girl crouched in the corner, trembling violently.
Her eyes locked onto him in pure terror.
He tilted his head.
Curious.
Then he moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Predatory.
She tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
In a single motion, he seized her by the neck.
Lifted her.
Her body struggled.
Futile.
His grip tightened.
And then—
He took it.
Something warm.
Something vital.
Her life.
It tore from her, drawn into him like a starving force finally fed.
Her strength faded.
Her body went limp.
His own form convulsed violently.
Bones reset.
Flesh shifted.
Like ancient chains snapping open.
Pain surged—
Then vanished.
Silence.
When he released her, she collapsed.
Barely alive.
He stood still.
Changed.
His skin was no longer cracked.
His eyes no longer hollow.
He looked…
Human.
Handsome.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
And then—
He vanished.
Swallowed by the Abyss.