Elisabeth kissed Nomi like she had been waiting for that moment her entire life.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't hesitant. It carried a hunger—years of silence breaking all at once. Her hands trembled slightly as if she feared the moment might disappear if she didn't hold onto it tightly enough.
Nomi's eyes widened.
Her expression said only one thing: I am dead.
She pushed Elisabeth back suddenly, her breath uneven, her back hitting the bookshelf behind her. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet library.
Elisabeth stumbled a step back but didn't fall.
Nomi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, panic and disbelief flooding her face. "What the hell are you doing?" she snapped, her voice shaking despite the anger.
Elisabeth laughed softly—not mockingly, but tiredly. She exhaled, like she had been holding her breath for years.
"I liked you," she said simply.
Nomi's head snapped up. "What the hell are you saying?" she asked, her shoulders pressing harder into the shelf, as if she needed something solid to keep her standing.
Elisabeth took a small step forward.
Then another.
She lifted her hands, nervously fixing her hair, fingers running through it again and again. "Shh… don't interrupt me," she murmured, her voice suddenly gentle, almost pleading.
She moved closer.
"So many people doubted me," Elisabeth continued, her words spilling out now, unstoppable. "No one believed me. No one helped me. Everyone turned away." Her eyes burned, but she didn't cry. "But you… you always stayed."
Nomi swallowed hard.
"For you," Elisabeth said quietly, "I'm just your friend." She took one last step closer, closing the distance completely. "But for me…"
She leaned in, her lips near Nomi's ear.
"You are my everything."
The words sank in like a blade.
Before Nomi could react, before she could push her away again or speak or breathe—Elisabeth kissed her a second time.
Nomi froze.
Her body refused to move. Her mind screamed, but her limbs didn't listen. The world narrowed to that moment—heat, confusion, fear, something dangerously close to understanding.
Then Elisabeth pulled back.
She stepped away slowly, as if respecting a boundary she had already crossed. She picked up her bag, her face unreadable now—no smile, no regret, just exhaustion.
Without another word, she left.
The door closed softly behind her.
Nomi slid down against the bookshelf, her legs giving up. She stared at nothing, breath shallow, hands shaking. She wasn't angry anymore.
She wasn't anything.
Samy stood there, invisible, watching it all unfold—and she was just as frozen.
This wasn't gossip.
This wasn't drama.
This was a truth buried so deep it had shaped everything without anyone knowing.
And Samy knew—there is more.
—
Outside Samy's mind, the world collapsed completely.
The classroom vanished.
The floor dissolved.
Everything turned into a hollow black space—endless, cold, silent.
Tin, Tony, and Jet knelt beside Samy's unmoving body, panic written across their faces.
"Samy!" Tin shouted, shaking her again. "Wake up—please!"
Nothing.
Tony clenched his fists. "This place… it's gone."
Jet stood slowly, rage burning in her eyes as the darkness thickened around them. Then the voice returned—after a long, deliberate silence.
"Well," it said lazily, "looks like you're all in trouble again."
Jet looked up and screamed, her voice cracking the void.
"Fuck you. And if you're here again, get my friend back into consciousness. Now."
The darkness seemed to ripple.
The voice deepened, turning cold. "Oh? And what exactly will you do to me?"
A pause.
Then a chuckle—low, mocking.
"Let me answer that for you," it continued. "Nothing."
Tony stepped forward, swallowing his fear. "Where are Roger and Kim?" he demanded.
The voice shifted, almost thoughtful. "They're exploring the truth."
Tony's heart dropped.
"A truth," the voice went on, "that can either kill all of you… or set you free."
Silence followed.
Then the voice vanished.
—
Far away, beyond memory and darkness, the two shadows stood once more.
They rose slowly, power flooding back into their forms, stronger than before.
More rage.
More pain.
More unresolved past.
The white shadow clenched its fists. The black shadow's aura burned violently, tearing the ground beneath it.
They didn't speak.
They attacked.
This time, every strike carried intent—not just to win, but to destroy.
The storm returned, louder, wilder, shaking every world connected to it.
Truth was no longer waiting to be discovered.
It was forcing itself to the surface.
And no one—past or present—was ready for what it would demand in return.