The door closed behind her.Cinthia had just left the meeting room.
The air felt heavier, charged with an unease that was hard to pin down—a faint irritation, barely perceptible. Because Rudy was walking behind her.
"Three meters."
She said it in a childish tone, lowering her chin just a little.
"As you wish…" Rudy replied, following the instruction with surgical precision.
She scanned the corridors with her eyes. She was looking for something, and when she didn't find it, she seemed relieved. Then she spoke, almost reluctantly.
"Don't even think this is an opportunity. I can feel your eyes on me. You don't stand a chance. Loser."
"How cruel," he said effortlessly.
"Why are you following me?"
"We're a team, aren't we? You might need help."
"I don't need anything from you. People like you have nothing to offer. You're lucky I even let you hear me speak. If there were anyone else here, I'd act like you didn't exist. Insect."
The words came out like a rehearsed line. Maybe Lía had taught her. There was a slight hesitation in them, a stiffness that made them feel borrowed—like a child mimicking a gesture she didn't fully understand.
Rudy noticed immediately. He smiled faintly and repeated:
"How cruel."
It was as if that exchange had slightly reduced the density of the air. It was the first time they had spoken. Even if it was contempt, even if it brushed against humiliation. Something loosened: that uncomfortable sensation of not recognizing one another.
She felt more at ease too. She would never admit it. She wasn't going to turn around, not lower herself. And she didn't want to make things worse for Lía.
Around them, a few students whispered.
"Is that Cinthia? Why is that guy following her?"
"Must be another lovesick fan…"
"Delusional… like he has a chance. They say he's from the other side. Disgusting."
Rudy caught the whispers. Of course. He didn't care. Still, he wanted to know.
"Do you hate me?"
The question was simple. The answer, on the other hand, came out ambiguous, unthinking. Quick. Childish.
"You people are unbearable…"
"Gary and me? Why?"
She couldn't explain it. She clung to the reasons Lía had given her.
"B-because you're savages… inferior… mostly bad people…"
"Mmm… I see…" He caught the emptiness in her words.
"Just stop asking stupid questions and tell me what we're supposed to do!"
"I want to talk to you about that, but you won't stop walking…"
"I don't want anyone to see me talking to you… and I have other questions for you…"
"About what?"
She didn't face him. She lowered her voice. What she said carried more weight.
"It's about Oliver… I saw you the night he disappeared… and you were coming from the other side… I wanted to know if… you know anything… or if you at least remember him…"There was resignation in her voice.
"Oliver?… yeah… I remember him… Roy's friend…"
He said it easily, almost carelessly. The contrast was brutal for Cinthia. She turned, lunged like a child, and grabbed his shoulders.
"What?! You remember him?! You saw him?! You kidnapped him?!"
Rudy's eyes widened slightly and he leaned back. She hadn't measured the distance. Her face—too close. She glanced around. Her shout had drawn attention.
The popular Cinthia, that close to that guy. Some froze at the sight.
How humiliating. It was unbearable. Too late to pretend anything else. Color rushed to her face with unexpected violence, brushing her cheeks, lighting her eyes with an exposed, almost clumsy shine.
She didn't think. There was no calculation, no clear intent. Just impulse—formless urgency. She clenched her fist at waist height, inhaled sharply, and with a brief scream, threw the punch forward. She closed her eyes before feeling the impact.
It never came.
The blow stopped in midair, cushioned by something firm. Her wrist trembled, suspended, as if it had struck an invisible boundary.
It was Rudy's palm.
He had intercepted it inches from his face. He didn't look affected. His expression barely changed; he only let out a low, almost neutral sound.
"Oh…"
She staggered back two steps, incredulous. The force she couldn't break through frightened her more than any violent retaliation would have. For a second, there was a mute expectation: punishment, a returned blow. What would a savage from the other side be capable of?
But Rudy released her wrist carefully. Then he slipped his hands into his pockets, as if nothing had happened.
"Be careful…" he said, with a calm that hurt more than the gesture.
The onlookers had only heard the scream.
"Cinthia, are you okay?" some called out."Cinthia…" others insisted from a distance.
She didn't answer. She stood still, eyes locked on Rudy's, who didn't look away either.
Not even when more students began to surround them did he lose his composure.
"What's going on? Did something happen?"
"I don't know… I think that guy attacked her…"
"Isn't he from the other side?"
"Someone help Cinthia!"
Rudy lifted a hand to his head, scratched briefly, like someone buying time. Of all his options, he only inclined himself slightly—a wordless apology. Then he turned and tried to leave.
But his path was blocked by a group of students. All of them male. The shared expression on their faces left no doubt.
"Cinthia… what did he do to you?" asked the one in front. Some murmured his name on recognizing him: Joan.
She still didn't answer. She lowered her gaze to the floor. A sigh escaped her lips.
"Nothing…"
They didn't seem satisfied. Several looks returned to Rudy.
"Speak. What did you do?"
He answered with the same dry ease.
"Nothing."
The silence thickened. No one wanted to be the first to break it.
Then Rudy took a step forward. He moved through them without looking at them, as if offering them a chance to leave things untouched. Cinthia watched his back retreat.
Rudy stopped. A hand landed on his shoulder. Light pressure.
"Where do you think you're going?" Joan said. His companions closed the circle with mute coordination.
Rudy didn't look away from the front.
"I already said I did nothing."
"I don't believe you," Joan replied. "Just look at Cinthia's face."
She didn't dare raise her voice. She barely breathed.
"I-I…"
No one intervened. The hallway seemed to hold its breath.
"They taught us how to defend ourselves from violent creatures like you."
He revealed the weapon with a slight flick of his wrist. The others did the same. The barrels all pointed to the same place.
"They're electric," he added. "I suppose your kind doesn't know peaceful methods. The rules say we take you to a nearby agent. So don't resist…"
Rudy barely reacted. He kept his eyes forward and let out, without any force:
"What a hassle."
After a few seconds, he took another step. The hand fell from his shoulder.
"What a hassle… I don't want to deal with those idiot uniforms…" he said softly, and kept walking.
Joan frowned. He adjusted the weapon and raised it higher, aiming at his back.
"Last warning…"
And Rudy took another step.
The weapon answered with a fractured sound. The impact startled even Joan.
Cinthia's vision shook at the sharp crack of the sound.
The convulsions were immediate. Rudy dropped to one knee as more students crowded around. They saw him shut his eyes, rigid, almost animal, as if his body were unsure whether to fall completely or not.
The silence closed in.
Rudy let his hands fall to the floor. It seemed he had a limit.
Joan had time to let the weapon recharge. And with trembling hands, he aimed again—at a Rudy who could barely support himself on his palms.
"I-I warned you, idiot…"
Cinthia understood it then. Something surged up her spine—dry, unstoppable. She wanted to speak. She couldn't. Around her, the murmur grew into a thick buzz, ordering her to stay still, telling her this was how it should be. She couldn't obey. She couldn't flee either. With guilt pushing from inside, her mouth opened on its own, slowly, just enough.
"P-… p-please… stop…"
She swallowed as she watched Joan's finger inch toward the trigger. And, true to herself, the next word wanted to come out as a scream.
"D—" she inhaled. "Sto—"
But—
"…did something happen? I'm sorry I'm late… you look scared…"
Lía covered her mouth before the sound escaped. The embrace was gentle, almost careful. Protective.
But when Cinthia looked back, she saw that Lía's eyes were not on her.
They were fixed on the scene—wide, unmoving.
Unsettling.