Eliza's gaze didn't leave Ling's face.
"It's eleven in the morning," she said calmly, which somehow made it worse. "You never sleep this late."
Ling nodded once, posture straightening automatically, instinct drilled into her since childhood. "I trained late. I was tired."
Eliza hummed, unconvinced. Her eyes flicked again—brief, sharp—to Ling's neck. The mark was impossible to miss now in daylight.
"I see," Eliza said. "Go take a bath."
Ling blinked. "I'll take it later. You should go rest, I'll come down for breakfast—"
Eliza's expression hardened instantly.
"Don't be my mother," she snapped.
Before Ling could react, Eliza stepped forward, took Ling by the shoulders, and physically turned her toward the bathroom. The movement wasn't rough, but it was absolute—commanding in a way that left no room for refusal.
"Go," Eliza said. "Take a bath. I'll wait here."
Ling stiffened. "Mom—"
Eliza's glare cut her off. "Now."
Ling clenched her jaw, then nodded. "Fine."
She walked toward the bathroom, every step measured. Inside, she shut the door but didn't lock it—she knew better.
She leaned against the sink for half a second, breathing out slowly.
Calm. Control. Think.
Her fingers brushed her neck again.
Rhea.
Outside, Eliza didn't sit. She stood in the middle of the room, eyes scanning—bed slightly disturbed, an extra pillow out of place, the window curtains not quite right.
She noticed everything.
Minutes passed.
Water ran.
Then stopped.
Ling emerged in a fresh black T-shirt, hair damp, expression unreadable. She met Eliza's gaze without flinching.
Eliza crossed her arms. "You're injured."
Ling glanced at her hand instinctively. "It's nothing."
"I wasn't talking about your hand."
Silence fell heavy between them.
Ling's shoulders squared. "Say what you want to say."
Eliza stepped closer. "Who was here last night?"
Ling didn't answer immediately.
"I asked you a question," Eliza said coolly.
Ling met her eyes. "No one you need to worry about."
Eliza laughed softly, humorless. "If you think I don't need to worry, then you're lying. And if you're lying, it's because you care."
Ling's jaw tightened. "You don't get to interrogate me like this."
Eliza tilted her head. "I'm your mother. I absolutely do."
Ling's voice dropped. "Not about this."
Eliza's eyes sharpened. "About her?"
Ling didn't deny it.
That was mistake enough.
Eliza exhaled slowly. "You're losing discipline."
Ling bristled. "I'm choosing."
Eliza stepped even closer, voice lowering. "Be very careful, Ling. People who make you forget your schedule, your routines, your control—they never stay. They leave you dealing with consequences alone."
Ling held her ground. "Then that's my problem."
Eliza stared at her, searching, calculating.
"Come for breakfast," Eliza said finally. "We'll talk later."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "And Ling?"
Ling looked up.
"Cover your neck next time," Eliza said quietly. "The world doesn't need to know where your weaknesses are."
The door closed behind her.
Ling stood there, heart pounding—not from fear, but from something sharper.
Rhea had heard everything.
And for the first time since stepping into this war, Rhea felt it clearly:
Eliza Kwong wasn't just an obstacle.
She was a threat.
Ling didn't let Rhea slip away this time.
The moment Eliza's footsteps faded down the hall, Ling crossed the room in two strides and caught Rhea by the wrist, pulling her back inside and locking the door with a sharp click.
"Don't take her seriously," Ling said immediately, voice low but steady. "She cares too much. That's her problem."
Rhea's chest was still rising fast. "She doesn't care. She controls."
Ling didn't argue. She pulled Rhea into her arms instead, firm, grounding, like she was pinning reality back into place. Rhea stiffened for a second—then exhaled, forehead dropping against Ling's shoulder.
"She scares me," Rhea admitted quietly.
Ling's jaw tightened. "She doesn't get to scare you."
Rhea scoffed. "Easy for you to say."
Ling shifted, hands settling at Rhea's back. "You're not leaving today."
Rhea pulled back. "What?"
"You heard me." Ling's tone was final. "You'll go tomorrow night. Today—you're with me."
Rhea stared at her. "All day?"
Ling nodded once. "All day."
Rhea laughed under her breath. "So what, I just hide?"
Ling shrugged. "Yes."
"That's insane."
Ling smirked. "Welcome to my life."
She turned toward the bathroom and tugged Rhea along with her. "Come on. You should take a bath too."
Rhea planted her feet. "What do you mean I should take a bath? I have to go."
"No," Ling said calmly. "You don't."
Rhea folded her arms. "Ling—"
"I'm not asking," Ling replied, opening the bathroom door.
Rhea looked inside, then back at Ling. "I don't have anything to wear."
Ling raised an eyebrow. "I do."
Rhea's lips twitched. "Your clothes are… not made for me."
Ling smiled, slow and unapologetic. "They'll survive."
"They'll be tight."
Ling laughed quietly. "I'm aware."
Rhea shook her head. "You're enjoying this."
Ling leaned against the doorframe. "A little."
Rhea sighed dramatically. "I hate you."
Ling corrected, "No, you don't."
Rhea glanced at the closet visible through the open door. "What are you even planning to give me?"
Ling shrugged. "A shirt."
"Just a shirt?"
Ling's eyes flicked to Rhea's bare legs. "Mid-thigh. Same one you wear every night. I don't have any problem with it."
Rhea narrowed her eyes. "You're impossible."
Ling stepped closer, voice dropping. "You're safe here."
That stopped her.
Rhea looked up at Ling, really looked at her—at the calm certainty, the way Ling stood like the world could knock itself out against her and still not pass.
"…Fine," Rhea muttered. "But if your mother kills me—"
"I'll handle it," Ling said immediately.
Rhea scoffed. "You keep saying that."
Ling reached out and brushed her thumb briefly against Rhea's wrist. Not lingering. Just enough. "Because it's true."
Rhea hesitated, then stepped into the bathroom. "You owe me for this."
Ling followed, shutting the door behind them. "I owe you a lot of things."
Rhea glanced back. "That wasn't romantic."
Ling smirked. "It wasn't meant to be."
She reached past Rhea, turned the water on, then added casually, "And for the record—"
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Ling touched her own neck, right where the mark still sat, faint but unmistakable. "You're lucky my mother didn't comment on that."
Rhea's lips curved, smug. "She noticed."
Ling looked at her. "You're proud?"
Rhea shrugged. "A little."
Ling shook her head, amused despite herself. "You're trouble."
Rhea stepped closer, eyes sharp. "You keep me anyway."
Ling met her gaze. "Always."