JAY'S POV — WHAT I WASN'T MEANT TO HEAR
Home felt… tighter than usual.
Not hostile.
Just aware.
Kuya Angelo noticed everything. He always had. The jacket folded over my arm didn't escape him for even half a second.
"New clothes?" he asked casually, not looking up from his phone.
"Borrowed," I replied just as casually. "Car broke down. Got caught in the rain."
"From who?"
"A friend."
That earned me a look.
Not suspicion.
Assessment.
"Mm," he hummed. "Make sure you return them."
"I am."
I didn't lie.
I just didn't elaborate.
I escaped to my room before the silence could turn sharp, changed, folded Yuri's hoodie carefully, and placed it at the top of my bag like it deserved respect.
Sleep didn't come easily.
Neither did peace.
---
THE NEXT DAY — OFF
No school.
No alarms.
Just a restless kind of quiet that pressed against my ribs until staying in felt like a mistake.
So I left.
The city was brighter than yesterday—washed clean by the storm, streets still damp, air crisp. I took a cab instead of driving. Less questions that way.
Yuri's building rose into view again—glass and restraint and money that didn't need to flex.
I checked the address twice.
Same place.
Good.
I adjusted the strap of my bag and headed toward the entrance.
That's when I heard it.
Laughter.
Loud.
Unfiltered.
Too many voices.
Male voices.
I slowed.
The sound wasn't coming from the street.
It was coming from inside.
From above.
From his place.
I stopped short of the door.
Then I heard a name.
Mine.
"…nah, I'm telling you, she's not what she looks like."
Cin's voice.
I froze.
Another laugh—deeper.
Keifer.
"Oh please. She plays innocent real well. You don't end up in Hanamitichi's penthouse by accident."
My fingers curled around the strap of my bag.
Someone else chimed in—David, uncertain. "You're assuming too much."
Keifer scoffed. "Am I? She's smart, sure. But people like her always want something."
Cin snapped back. "You don't know her."
"Oh?" Keifer said lightly. "Then enlighten us."
A pause.
Then Yuri.
Calm. Measured.
"She didn't ask for anything," he said. "She came because she needed shelter. That's it."
"Right," Keifer replied. "And you just happened to give her your clothes."
A beat.
"That wasn't—" Yuri started.
"Relax," Keifer cut in. "I'm not blaming you. I'm impressed."
Laughter followed.
My chest tightened.
Cin's voice again—lower now. "You're talking like she's a plan. She's a person."
"Everyone's a plan," Keifer replied smoothly. "Some people just don't know it yet."
Silence stretched.
It didn't break gently.
It snapped.
"So," Rory's voice cut in, amused, curious, already drunk on the idea of control, "how far is this plan going, exactly?"
A beat.
Then Keifer laughed.
Not loud.
Not messy.
A soft, knowing sound—like a knife being turned just enough to remind you it's there.
"How far?" he echoed. "Depends how convincing she is."
Someone whistled.
Someone else snorted into their drink.
Keifer continued, casual as breathing. "We let her get comfortable. Let her think she's winning. Let her think we're… different."
Another laugh.
"I mean," he added lightly, "she's already halfway there, isn't she?"
Glasses clinked.
The room filled with approval.
"With you?" someone teased.
"With us," Keifer corrected smoothly. "She opens up, we learn what makes her tick. What she wants. What she hates."
"And then?" Rory pressed.
Keifer leaned back—voice lazy, cruelly entertained.
"And then," he said, "we remind her what Section E does best."
The laughter that followed was louder.
Messier.
Uncomfortable.
Except—
Cin didn't laugh.
David didn't either.
They exchanged a glance instead—tight, knowing, helpless.
They smiled anyway.
Because in Section E, silence was treason.
And I—
I stood outside the door, perfectly still.
Every word landed clean.
Every assumption sharp.
Every laugh precise enough to carve.
So this was it.
Not curiosity.
Not coincidence.
A plan.
I exhaled once.
Slow.Steady.
No shaking. No heat. No tears.
Just clarity.
I stepped back quietly.
Turned.
And walked straight into the hallway like nothing inside that room mattered anymore.
A maid stood near the elevator—young, stiff-backed, eyes darting between floors.
She noticed me.
Startled.
"Miss—"
I held up the bag gently.
"Please," I said softly. "These belong to Yuri."
She hesitated. "I should announce—"
"No," I interrupted, voice still calm. "Don't tell him I was here."
Her brows knit. "He'll ask."
"He won't," I replied. "Not today."
Something in my tone settled it.
She took the bag carefully.
I met her eyes. "Thank you."
She bowed, uncertain.
I didn't wait for the elevator.
I took the stairs.
---
Outside, the air felt different.
Not heavier.
Cleaner.
Like the moment before a storm decides where it's going to land.
I pulled out my phone.
✉️ Jay: I'll be staying at a friend's place tonight.
Jay: Back tomorrow.
The reply came faster than expected.
✉️ Angelo: Be safe.
Angelo: Text if anything feels off.
I smiled faintly.
Too late.
I flagged down a car and gave an address I hadn't visited in months.
A private bar.
No signage.
No noise spilling out.
The kind of place that didn't ask questions and didn't remember faces unless you wanted it to.
The driver glanced at me through the mirror.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Very."
---
The bar was dim and familiar—low lights, dark wood, quiet power humming beneath the music. No one watching too closely.
I took a seat at the far end.
The bartender recognized me.
"Been a while," he said.
"Yeah."
He slid a glass across the counter without asking.
I wrapped my fingers around it.
Didn't drink.
Just stared into the reflection.
Keifer thought he was patient.
Thought he was clever.
Thought the dance was his to lead.
I lifted the glass.
Took one slow sip.
And finally—
I smiled.
Because now I knew the plan.
And the thing about plans?
They work best when the other side doesn't know they're part of one.
Section E had made one fatal mistake.
They assumed I'd react.
They assumed I'd fall.
They assumed I'd be hurt.
What they didn't understand—
Was that I don't break when people show me who they are.
I adjust.
And when I step back into that classroom—
When I look Keifer Watson in the eye again—
It won't be confusion he sees.
It won't be warmth.
It won't even be anger.
It'll be intention.
Because if he wants a game—
I'll let him believe he's winning.
Right up until the moment he realizes—
I was never the piece.
I was the the Entire Game.....