It was late in the evening, and the stadium lay cloaked in silence. The echo of the last cheering crowd had long faded, leaving only the soft rustle of the wind as it swept across the deserted track. The golden-orange hue of the setting sun bathed the sky, casting long shadows across the seats and illuminating the dry red lanes of the track field. At one of the upper benches, Kairon sat alone.
His back was straight, hands in his pockets, and eyes staring into the distance—cold, calculating, unreadable. The silence didn't bother him. In fact, he preferred it. It was in the quiet that the world made sense, where layers peeled away, and only truth remained.
Aria's footsteps echoed lightly as she walked across the cement floor. She approached with her usual quiet confidence, though a trace of weariness tugged at her steps.
"Here you are," she said softly.
Kairon turned slowly to look at her.
"Class C ended up winning, huh," she continued. "The result was good enough."
