She was not the same. Weeks had passed since then. She rested her cheek in her palm, slumped over her desk, as if that single gesture were enough to hold her together. She stared at nowhere, lost inside her own silences.
Rudy watched her from behind, persistent, almost motionless.
She wandered aimlessly through the central courtyard. Lía approached her with an awkward gentleness, as if any word might splinter her.
"Hey… want some ice cream?"
"Sure…"
Rudy kept watching her from a distance. Beside him, Roy and Gary arrived distracted, typing on their laptops, unaware of her unease.
Roy spoke in that voice of his, one that seemed to command by inertia alone:
"No tutor showed up today either… we've got more work than usual."
"I'm sick of this! How long are you going to keep us like this?" Gary complained.
"I don't care," Rudy murmured, wearing his usual calm expression.
"Easy…" Roy said, without lifting his eyes from his laptop, larger than the rest. "We only received one message. They informed us we'll have a new member on the council." He sighed. "We never should've carried so much on our own… this is strange."
Gary inhaled as if about to shout, but Rudy placed a hand on his shoulder. That simple gesture deflated him; Gary crossed his arms, frustrated.
Rudy spoke for him.
"And when is this new member arriving?"
"He'll be one of the usual transfers. He should already be around."
"I see…"
Elsewhere, Lía kept trying to steady Cinthia with the same clumsy care.
"Is it good?"
"It's the same flavor…"
"Want another?"
Cinthia let out a weary sigh.
"Don't you have other things to do? Being with Roy, for example?" Her voice carried resentment. "I wonder why you get to be a couple without anything happening to you."
"Everything off-camera, dummy." Lía nudged her with her shoulder. "And you can't say that out loud…"
"It doesn't make sense… I don't understand…"
"Don't keep pushing this, dummy. You make that face and people notice…"
"So it's easier to pretend I'm crazy? You don't get it… I can't convince myself to forget what happened…" she murmured, curled in on her knees.
"Are you listening to me?"
"And are you listening to me?" Cinthia raised her voice.
The tension grew so dense neither of them spoke again. They remained seated, staring in opposite directions, as if speaking would betray something.
But Lía couldn't let it end like that.
"What was the last thing that happened before he disappeared?"
Cinthia hesitated. She reconstructed the scene in her mind, blushing.
"W-well… um…" She swallowed. "I was about to—"
Flapping.
Cinthia's eyes flew open. Her story stopped short.
"Cinthia?"
Flapping again. Closer.
"Hey… what's wrong…?"
Cinthia jerked her head from side to side; her despondence turned into frantic unease. It was the same sound.
"Wait, Cinthia!"
Her pace was fast, but she didn't run. She moved with restrained tension, careful not to draw attention as she followed the trail of the flapping, the sound.
Here? No.
Here? No.
The sound came twice more. Without seeing where she was going, she tripped and fell. In front of her—shoes.
She lifted her face. Sunlight cast shadows over the figure standing above her.
She saw a smile. Slightly slanted eyes, almost drowsy. It was the most beautiful face she had ever seen: an improbable beauty, a creature of orange hair and eyes.
But everything shattered when she heard his voice.
"Hey… hey, are you okay?" He offered her his hand.
It was a rough, deep voice, yet strangely sweet. A man. The male uniform confirmed it. A dream broken instantly.
"Y-yes…" she replied, still disoriented by that abrupt revelation. She said nothing more out of politeness.
"Be more careful next time. You shouldn't run like that," he said, smiling as he helped her to her feet.
"Who are you…?" Her voice betrayed a thread of distrust.
"My name's William," he said, calm and friendly. "Nice to meet you."
She stayed silent. He went on:
"What blue eyes you have—and they look so far away…" His gaze locked onto hers with almost uncomfortable intensity. "Looks like I'll have a lot of work to do here."
He gave a small laugh and walked on.
"Cinthia! What happened? Are you okay?"
Lía had arrived. But Cinthia barely heard her; she was caught on the figure moving away, on the almost unreal elegance of William's stride.
Elsewhere, the council was running out of patience.
"So is that new member going to show up or not?" Gary snapped, irritation hardening his voice.
"He was supposed to be here by now," Roy replied. Even in him—usually so composed—the annoyance showed, like a crack refusing to close.
Recess was dying out. The courtyard's noise began to fade, dissolving into a thin murmur.
"A few minutes left," Rudy said flatly, like someone observing a foreign phenomenon.
"If he doesn't show, I'm leaving the council," Gary growled. "I'm not carrying work that isn't mine."
Roy exhaled slowly, resigned, staring at nothing in particular, letting time push him without resistance.
"You know it's not in your best interest to step down…"
"I don't care. Better if I'm out of here."
The complaints stopped.
A distorted sound tore through the air of the central courtyard, vibrating above everyone's heads. The murmurs vanished instantly. Cinthia and Lía looked up, just as confused as everyone else.
Cinthia recognized something in that first echo. A timbre. A shape.
A throat clearing.
"Hello… hello? Can you hear me…?"
"It's him…" Cinthia said, unable to stop herself.
"Who…?" Lía asked, still lost.
The voice grew firmer.
"I know this is sudden, but… well. Your new president speaking. My name is William… William Bianca…"
The softness of his tone was almost insolent, as if he weren't addressing the entire school but a small group that had been waiting for him.
"Who the hell is talking?" Roy said, feeling alarm lodge in his chest. "No one is supposed to use the loudspeaker."
The broadcast continued.
"I've heard you've been left on your own lately… so I was sent to help with the problems ahead. You can trust me… and the council under my care. I ask its members to come to the meeting room."
A sharp thud. Static. Silence.
Air returned to the courtyard. Students eyed one another cautiously, as if waiting for someone to decipher what had just happened.
Roy stayed still only a moment—long enough for indignation to fully settle.
"He was supposed to be just an assistant… why are they trying to replace me?" he muttered, anger no longer hidden.
He headed toward the building with the rough determination of someone displaced without warning. Gary followed, chewing on his irritation. Rudy brought up the rear, unhurried, seemingly untouched.
Roy moved through the corridors with an urgency that nearly stole his breath. Only when he stood before the meeting room door did he realize how fast he'd arrived. He didn't knock or announce himself—he shoved the door open, propelled by anger seeking release.
Inside, an unexpected silhouette greeted him. A figure reclined against the desk, feet crossed atop the table, as if the room had always belonged to him. A serene beauty, even insolent. The smile—soft, sustained—carried a playful edge that repelled all solemnity.
Roy froze at the sight. He had to blink, like someone trying to shake off a mirage.
"Who are you? Where's the loudspeaker idiot…?" His tone came out rough, still charged.
"Idiot?" he replied, voice lightly mischievous. "That's a bit too familiar, don't you think?"
The toothless smile was unsettling. There was something in his expression that demanded a second look. And then Roy understood: it was the same voice from the loudspeaker. That rough, almost sweet voice—coming from a figure born of contradiction.
He went cold.
"You're a—"
"A boy?" William interrupted, tilting his head. "I am. Surprised?"
The flirtation in his voice wrapped around Roy for a moment, nearly pulling him off course. But he managed to steady himself.
"Y-you need to leave—" he tried to step forward.
"Stop."
The word fell softly—but it was enough. Roy halted as if he'd struck an invisible wall. He didn't understand why he obeyed, why his body clung to that command as if it were some hidden law.
William looked at him with a drowsy, calm, almost indifferent expression. And yet something in that gaze held him there, motionless, trapped in a silence he didn't know how to break.