The guards pressed Keal harder against the cold floor, his white hair splayed out beneath him. His glowing eyes — one blood-red, one deep violet — widened in shock as June Wes's words echoed.
She is dead.
Keal's poker face cracked, the mask he always wore slipping away. His voice trembled as he spoke, disbelief cutting through. "What… what do you mean she is dead?"
June Wes's golden eyes blazed. He stretched his hand out, pointing directly at Keal, his voice rising into a shout. "Stop pretending you don't know!"
The accusation hung heavy in the air, pressing down on everyone in the room.
Zack stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate. He lowered June's hand with a calm gesture, his expression unreadable. He blinked once, then spoke, his tone measured. "You don't know if he is the one."
Then Zack's voice cut through the silence, calm but edged. "If you really want information," he said slowly, "you should at least do it civilly."
The words lingered, deliberate, forcing the air to shift.
June's jaw tightened. His golden eyes flickered toward Zack, then back to Kev. For a moment, the silence stretched, heavy and unbroken.
Finally, June exhaled, his expression firm. He raised his hand, weaving it in a commanding gesture.
The two guards in armor obeyed instantly. Their grip on Kev loosened, and they stepped back. Without a word, they turned and left the room, the sound of their boots echoing down the corridor until it faded into silence.
Now it was only Kev, Zack, Ron, and June Wes. The air felt different — less oppressive, but no less tense.
Kev slowly sat up, brushing the dust from his black suit, his poker face returning piece by piece. His crimson and violet eyes flickered toward June ,his glowing eyes dimmed back into their usual cold stare, his poker face returning.
June Wes did not sit. He stood firm, golden eyes locked on Keal, his voice steady and commanding. "I need your alibi."
The words hung in the air, heavy, deliberate.
Keal exhaled slowly, the sound quiet but sharp in the stillness. His poker face slipped for a moment, replaced by weariness. He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the window.
Zack leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed, watching with playful eyes. Ron sat stiffly, his hands folded, waiting. June remained standing, unmoving, his presence pressing down on Keal.
"What happened…" he began, his voice low, almost reluctant. "With Instructor Lira. And all the other shit."
The room fell into silence has keal was talking.
Minutes passed. The silence stretched.
Finally, after what felt like five long minutes, June spoke again. His voice was firm, unwavering. "I will confirm your alibi."
"Do not tell anybody." Kev said
Without another word, June left the room, his footsteps heavy, his aura burning with anger.
The silence lingered until Ron finally spoke, his voice low, almost hesitant. "It must be tough… losing your twin. You two have been together since birth. They said you were with her…"
Kev turned his head slowly toward Ron, his cold face unreadable. His glowing eyes dimmed, but the weight in them was heavy.
Ron met his gaze, steady but quiet. "Yea, just for a while" he replied simply.
Immediately, Zack shifted. His expression twisted into something oddly comical, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "So… you were with Instructor Lira and in girls dorm?."
Kev's voice cut in, sharp and tired. "Oh, Zack, don't start. And by the way, it was you that put me in the mess."
Zack chuckled, shrugging with mock innocence. "True. But if not for me, you wouldn't have entered the girls' dorm. So what did you do? Did you go to the room and check?"
Keal rose slowly, his movements deliberate. His black suit — the same one he had worn when drunk — hung heavy on him, regret woven into its fabric. He wanted to change it , his poker face returning. "No," Keal said firmly, his voice low.
Zack's grin faded. He stood up, following Kev's movement, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Then tell me more," Zack pressed, his tone shifting from playful to serious. "Details, Keal. Every detail."
Kev's voice had been firm when he said no. The denial lingered in the air, heavy, but unshaken.
Hours passed. The tension of the dorm faded into silence, replaced by the rhythm of the academy's daily routine.
Kev walked through the stone corridors, his white hair catching the faint glow of daylight filtering in through tall windows. His black suit was neat again, his steps steady, his poker face restored.
When he entered the classroom, the atmosphere shifted. Students whispered, their eyes flickering toward him. Some looked away quickly, others stared longer, curious, suspicious.
Kev sat rigidly at the back, his cold face masking the turmoil within. The instructor's words echoed faintly, but they were little more than noise against the storm in his mind.
Whispers rippled through the classroom like a current. "Isn't that him?"
"They say he was with July…"
"Look at his eyes…"
Kev's glowing gaze dimmed, fixed forward, unflinching. He did not respond, did not flinch. His poker face was iron, but inside, June's commanding voice replayed again and again: I need your alibi.
"What if he turns out to be the Violet Reaper?" one of the students in Kev's class whispered.
"Oh crap, that would be insane," another replied, their voices carrying on with shenanigans and nervous laughter.
"Wow…" someone muttered under their breath.
From within, a shadow-like creature stirred, its voice echoing in Kev's mind. "Well, you do have an alibi."
Kev exhaled slowly, his cold face unbroken. "It's been a pretty long shadow," Kev said.
Beside him, Geo shifted slightly, leaning closer. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "Kev… everyone here sees you as a killer."
Kev turned his head slowly, his glowing eyes dimmed but steady. He didn't answer. His poker face held, but he was suprised has Geo talked. Everyone see him has a killer but the Geo still talk to him at that moment he thought Geo would be a good friend to have.
Geo's eyes flickered nervously, watching Kev's reaction. "I don't believe it," he said softly, almost pleading. "But they're comparing you to him."
Kev exhaled slowly, his breath controlled, his face cold. He didn't speak. His silence was heavier than denial, heavier than words.
The classroom buzzed faintly, but at Kev's desk, the air was thick, suffocating. Every glance from his peers carried judgment. Every whisper carried fear.
Then the door opened has the instructor entered .
At the front of the room, Mr. Tompson, the instructor, His sharp eyes scanned the class, then settled on Kev. The silence stretched for a moment, heavy, as if the entire room held its breath.
Mr. Tompson adjusted his spectacles, his voice firm but calm. "Enough whispering. Focus on the lesson." Has he faced the board to teach after he dropped his book
The murmurs died down, but the tension remained. Students lowered their heads, pretending to listen, though their eyes still flickered toward Kev.
Kev sat unmoving, his poker face restored, but inside the storm churned louder.