Marvello checked her phone again.
Nothing.
No message. No missed call. No reply.
Ji-Hyun didn't do silence like this.
Her fingers tightened around the device. The hallway noise blurred into something distant, irrelevant.
She lifted her hand unconsciously and pushed her hair back—fully back, exposing the eye it usually hid.
Amanda noticed immediately.
"…Oh," Amanda murmured. "That's not good."
Marvello didn't look at her. "He read your message."
"Yes."
"And didn't answer."
"Yes."
"And his parents haven't called the school."
Amanda's joking tone was gone now. "They would've. His mom panics over everything."
Marvello turned slowly. Her face was pale—not scared yet, but alert. Focused.
"I'm going to his house," she said.
"We already checked," Amanda replied. "No one's home. Neighbors said he left earlier."
Marvello's jaw clenched.
"He wouldn't disappear."
Amanda swallowed. "Unless he didn't choose to."
That did it.
Marvello was moving before Amanda finished the sentence.
The shortcut.
They walked fast—too fast for conversation.
Marvello's eyes scanned everything now. Cars. Corners. People standing too still. The world had sharpened into details.
"This street," Amanda said suddenly. "This is his shortcut, right?"
"Yes."
Marvello stopped.
Something was wrong with the pavement ahead.
Too quiet.
Amanda spotted it first.
"…Phone."
It lay near the curb, screen cracked, face down like it had been dropped—not placed.
Marvello knelt instantly and picked it up.
Ji-Hyun's phone.
Unlocked.
Her breath caught.
Amanda crouched beside her. "That didn't just fall."
Marvello's eyes moved inches to the side.
There—by the edge of the road.
A glasses case.
She opened it.
Inside was a single lens.
Cracked straight down the middle.
Deliberate.
Amanda's voice came out smaller than usual. "That's a message."
Marvello stood slowly.
Her hands were steady—but her eyes weren't cold anymore.
They were burning.
"He didn't run," she said quietly. "He was taken."
Amanda nodded. "And they wanted us to know."
Marvello looked down the street, then back toward the school, calculating routes, faces, motives.
For the first time—
Worry showed on her face.
Not loud.
Not messy.
Just real.
"We're not waiting," Marvello said.
Amanda stood beside her. "Good. Because whoever did this just made the worst mistake of their life."
Marvello closed her fingers around the broken lens.
And this time—
She didn't hide her eyes at all.
---
The door closed behind him with a soft, final sound.
Ji-Hyun was guided forward—not shoved, not dragged. Just directed, like resistance had already been calculated out of him.
The room was dim, windowless.
A single chair stood in the center.
"Sit," one of the men said.
Ji-Hyun sat.
His body felt heavy—exhaustion pulling at his limbs, head throbbing faintly.
His lips were dry, trembling despite his effort to steady them.
His glasses sat crooked on his nose, one arm bent slightly. His uniform was untucked, wrinkled from the struggle and the rush.
He stared at the chair in front of him.
It was turned away.
The back faced him.
The silence stretched.
Then—
The chair spun.
Mr. Takahashi came into view.
He sat with perfect posture, hands folded loosely, expression unreadable.
No anger. No urgency. Just quiet authority—the kind that didn't need to raise its voice to be obeyed.
"Ji-Hyun," he said calmly. "You've had a difficult week."
Ji-Hyun didn't answer.
Mr. Takahashi tilted his head slightly. "You're not in trouble. I just need information."
"I don't have any," Ji-Hyun replied. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
Takahashi smiled faintly. "Everyone has something."
"I don't," Ji-Hyun said again.
A pause.
"You're close to Marvello," Takahashi continued. "Closer than most."
Ji-Hyun's fingers curled slowly on his knees. "That doesn't mean I know what you think I do."
Takahashi studied him. "Where are the house documents?"
Ji-Hyun blinked. Genuine confusion flickered across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The silence thickened.
From the corner of the room—
"Unbelievable."
Nairo stepped forward, irritation written plainly across his face. He hadn't been hiding well—just waiting.
Ji-Hyun looked at him, startled. "You… didn't go to school?"
Nairo scoffed. "Of course not."
Mr. Takahashi didn't look at him. "Enough."
Nairo crossed his arms, frustration sharp. "He's lying or he's useless."
"I'm not lying," Ji-Hyun said quietly. "And I'm not useful to you."
Takahashi leaned forward slightly. "You could be."
"No," Ji-Hyun replied.
That word landed heavier than shouting ever could.
Nairo's patience snapped.
"You really think she cares about you?" he said, voice sharp. "Marvello?"
Ji-Hyun's jaw tightened.
"She's dangerous," Nairo continued. "A silent psychopath. You've seen it. She doesn't panic. She doesn't cry. People like that don't protect—they use."
"That's not true," Ji-Hyun said immediately.
Nairo laughed harshly. "You think she saved you out of kindness? Or because you're convenient?"
Ji-Hyun lifted his head fully now, eyes clear despite the fear.
"She didn't hesitate," he said. "That's how I know you're wrong."
Takahashi watched closely.
"Fear makes people lie," Nairo pressed. "And she's very good at hiding hers."
Ji-Hyun shook his head once. "You're projecting."
That earned him a sharp look.
Mr. Takahashi finally stood.
"You don't know what you're protecting," he said calmly. "But refusal has consequences."
Ji-Hyun swallowed—but didn't look away.
"Then you'll have to live with them," he replied.
Silence.
Takahashi studied him for a long moment.
Then, softly—
"…Interesting."
The lights buzzed faintly overhead.
And somewhere far away—
Marvello was already following the trail they'd left behind.
Marvello didn't cry.
That was the first thing Amanda noticed as they stood on the quiet street, Ji-Hyun's broken lens still warm in Marvello's palm.
Most people would panic first.
Marvello went still.
Too still.
"He was taken here," Amanda said softly. "Broad daylight. That's bold."
"No," Marvello replied. "That's permission."
Amanda looked at her. "From who?"
Marvello's eyes lifted, scanning the street again—not for Ji-Hyun, but for patterns.
"A random kidnapper wouldn't leave a clue," she said. "And they wouldn't know Ji-Hyun matters."
Amanda frowned. "Matters to who?"
Marvello exhaled slowly.
"To me."
She crouched, examining the ground more closely. No drag marks. No broken struggle. Just interruption.
"They spoke to him first," she continued. "He didn't run. Someone called his name."
Amanda's face tightened. "So they knew him."
"Yes. And they knew where he walks. His shortcuts."
Amanda straightened. "That narrows it."
Marvello stood too.
"Naoki's parents are loud," she said. "They threaten. They sue. They don't take people quietly."
"Agreed," Amanda said. "So not them."
Marvello's gaze hardened.
"Mary doesn't move directly," she went on. "If she took him, she'd make sure I never found the phone."
Amanda inhaled. "So someone who wants you scared—but not blind."
Marvello nodded once.
"Mr. Takahashi," she said.
The name settled between them.
Amanda's jaw clenched. "Authority. Access. Silence."
"And motive," Marvello added. "He was at the hearing. He listened when everyone else talked."
Amanda's eyes widened slightly. "He watched Ji-Hyun."
"Yes," Marvello said. "Not me."
She turned the cracked lens between her fingers.
"They're looking for the house documents," she said calmly. "But they don't believe I'd give them up."
Amanda swallowed. "So they're using Ji-Hyun as leverage."
"They think he knows something," Marvello said. "Or that I'll trade for him."
Amanda shook her head. "They don't know you very well."
"No," Marvello agreed. "They don't."
She pulled out her phone.
"Who else was at the hearing?" Amanda asked.
"Nairo," Marvello replied instantly.
Amanda's breath left her in a sharp laugh. "Of course."
"He hates losing control," Marvello said. "And he hates that Ji-Hyun spoke."
She typed quickly.
Amanda watched her. "Who are you texting?"
Marvello didn't look up.
"Eiren."
Amanda blinked. "Why him?"
"Because Aria watches him," Marvello said. "And Aria watches me."
The message sent.
Marvello finally looked at Amanda.
"They took the wrong person," she said quietly. "And they left the wrong clue."
Amanda's smile was thin, dangerous. "So what's the plan?"
Marvello slipped Ji-Hyun's broken lens into her pocket.
"We don't react," she said. "We advance."
Somewhere behind locked doors, Ji-Hyun was refusing to speak.
And somewhere above them all—
Mr. Takahashi was about to learn that Marvello did not negotiate with fear.
She dismantled it.