The photo burned in her pocket like it was laced with napalm.
Yan Xiyan sat in the back of the classroom the next day, half her mind on derivatives and the other half unraveling. She didn't want to believe it, but the resemblance was there,mthe grin, the sharpness of the eyes, the same messy scrawl on the back of the photo that matched Qiao Zeyan's handwriting on their last group assignment.
She'd killed someone close to him.
And he didn't even know it.
Or did he?
That question gnawed at her worse than the guilt. Qiao Zeyan was too sharp. He didn't just sense things, he unraveled them.
He sat diagonally in front of her. Pencil tapping. Then stopping.
Without turning around, he said quietly, "You've been staring at me for exactly seven minutes, Yan Xiyan. Either you've fallen in love or you're plotting something."
Her pen slipped.
Students chuckled around them. The teacher didn't even glance up.
"Sorry," she muttered, barely audible.
"Which one is it?" he asked again, low enough that only she could hear.
She didn't reply.
Lunch Break
The rooftop was off-limits but rules were flexible when you were dealing with ghosts and guilt. She needed air. Space. Distance.
But someone was already up there.
Qiao Zeyan.
Of course.
He was leaning against the railing, the wind teasing his black uniform jacket. He didn't look surprised to see her.
"I was beginning to think you were stalking me," he said.
"You're the one who's always where I go."
He smirked. "Maybe we're just cursed to cross paths."
Silence.
Then: "Did you have a brother?" she blurted.
His jaw clenched just a fraction. A muscle twitched beneath his eye. But the smirk didn't fade. It just grew... heavier.
"I did."
"Did he…?"
"Die?" he finished for her. "Yeah."
Pause.
"Murdered. A while back. No one knows who did it."
Yan Xiyan swallowed. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"You miss him?" she asked, carefully.
Zeyan looked at her. This time, really looked.
"He was the only one who ever made me feel like I wasn't alone in this world."
That gutted her.
He turned his gaze back to the skyline. "Funny how revenge looks glorious until you realize you're chasing shadows with blood on your hands."
You don't know how right you are, she thought.
Then, just when the atmosphere thickened to suffocation...
"By the way," he added casually, "your cover story sucks."
"What?"
"The whole 'amnesiac piano prodigy' thing? A little too dramatic. What's next, secret twin sister with a vendetta?"
She blinked.
"…That's actually not a bad idea," she mumbled under her breath.
He laughed.
And for one terrifying moment, she laughed too.
Two broken kids on a rooftop, playing normal.
Elsewhere
In a dark, smoky room lined with monitors, the Shadow watched them through a grainy rooftop cam feed.
The figure leaned forward, gloved fingers steepled beneath their chin.
"Let's see how long you two can dance around the truth."