Lucas walked into classroom 777.

Philosophy class.

He glanced around.

Empty.

Not a single student.

Not even the teacher.

Lucas stood at the entrance for a few seconds, waiting for someone to appear. Maybe he was early. Maybe everyone else had decided to show up late for once.

He checked the time.

He wasn't early.

He walked toward one of the desks and dropped his bag beside it.

The classroom looked completely normal.

Rows of desks.

A whiteboard.

The professor's desk at the front.

Nothing unusual.

Except for the complete lack of people.

Lucas sat down.

He looked toward the door.

Nothing.

He looked toward the professor's desk.

Still nothing.

He waited.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Still nobody.

Lucas sighed.

It wasn't the first time.

Actually, it had been happening for a while.

Every day, whenever he came to class, it was always the same.

Not just Philosophy.

All of his classes.

There was never anyone there.

No students.

No teachers.

Nobody.

At first, Lucas thought it was strange.

Then he stopped caring.

The weird part was that the university itself wasn't empty.

He could hear people outside.

Students talking in the hallways.

Someone laughing somewhere downstairs.

Footsteps passing by the classroom.

A group of students walked past the open door, talking among themselves without even looking inside.

Lucas watched them disappear around the corner.

He got up and stepped into the hallway.

There were people everywhere.

Students carrying books.

People rushing toward their classes.

Someone arguing with another student near the stairs.

A professor walked past while reading something on a clipboard.

Everything seemed completely normal.

Lucas looked back into classroom 777.

Empty.

He walked farther down the hallway.

Through the glass window of another classroom, he could see students sitting at their desks while a professor wrote something on the board.

Another classroom was packed.

Another had students giving a presentation.

Another had a professor shouting at someone for using their phone.

The university was alive.

It was only his classes that were dead.

Lucas returned to 777.

He stood in the doorway and stared at the empty room.

He couldn't remember when it started.

Maybe it had always been like this.

Maybe he had simply never questioned it.

He walked back to his desk and sat down.

The chair beside him was empty.

So was the one in front of him.

And the one behind him.

Every seat was empty.

Lucas looked toward the professor's desk.

Still nobody.

He leaned back.

“Guess it's just me.”

His voice sounded strangely loud in the classroom.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, somewhere outside, he heard a burst of laughter from another class.

Lucas looked toward the door.

People were still there.

The university was still moving.

Students were still attending their classes.

Teachers were still teaching.

Everyone had somewhere to be.

Everyone except him.

Lucas turned back toward the front of the classroom.

The clock on the wall continued ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

He stared at it.

For some reason, the longer he watched it, the slower it seemed to move.

And he remained there, alone in classroom 777, waiting for a philosophy class that never seemed to begin.

The room was dark.

Quiet.

The only sound came from metal.

A faint clinking.

Then another.

Then the slow, irregular scrape of something shifting somewhere in the darkness.

The floor was covered in blood.

Some of it was fresh, still wet beneath the pale light.

Other stains had dried long ago, turning almost black against the metal floor.

It was difficult to tell where one stain ended and another began.

The walls were metal too.

Cold, seamless sheets of steel surrounding the room like the inside of some enormous refrigerated chamber.

But it didn't feel like a morgue.

It felt like a slaughterhouse.

Bodies hung from the ceiling.

Dozens of them.

Some had been skinned completely, their bodies pale beneath the harsh darkness.

Others still had their skin.

Some looked as though they had died only moments ago.

Others looked much older.

Yet none of them had begun to rot.

No decay.

No discoloration.

No smell of decomposition.

They all looked strangely fresh.

As if death had happened to them at exactly the same moment.

The bodies hung from thick metal hooks, swaying almost imperceptibly whenever the air moved.

Clink.

One hook tapped against another.

Then silence.

In the center of the room, a single light hung from the ceiling.

It illuminated only a small circle of the floor.

Everything beyond it disappeared into darkness.

And beneath that light stood an old woman.

She was completely still.

Her clothes were old and dark, hanging loosely from her thin frame.

Her face was difficult to make out beneath the light, but what could be seen of it was enough to make the room feel colder.

Her lips moved.

She was speaking.

Not English.

Not any language that would have been immediately recognizable.

The words came slowly, almost like a whisper.

A language so old that almost nobody alive would have understood it.

Almost nobody would even know it existed.

She murmured the words again.

They echoed against the metal walls.

The sound seemed to travel through the room, passing between the hanging corpses before returning to her.

Behind her stood two stainless-steel tables.

The kind found in hospitals and morgues.

The first held a human body.

A man.

His legs were broken at unnatural angles.

His face had been crushed so badly that it was almost impossible to recognize him.

He was completely motionless.

Dead.

Yet there was no sign of decay.

On the second table sat something that looked almost absurdly out of place.

A teddy bear.

Small.

Old.

Covered in stains.

The old woman stood over it.

Still murmuring.

Her hands moved carefully over the bear as though she were performing some kind of ritual.

She stroked its head.

Then its ears.

Then its small, worn body.

The words continued.

Soft.

Rhythmic.

Ancient.

The dead man beside her remained forgotten.

The bodies continued hanging above her.

The blood remained beneath her feet.

And somewhere in the darkness, something metallic scraped slowly across the floor.

The old woman stopped.

The room became completely silent.

Then she whispered one final word.

Something moved in the darkness.

The Beaumont House

Morning had settled over the Beaumont house.

For once, it was quiet.

At least downstairs.

Upstairs, behind a closed bedroom door, Beth was curled up on her bed, hugging her pillow tightly against her chest.

She was crying.

Not quietly, either.

Her sobs came in uneven bursts, muffled slightly by the pillow she had buried her face into.

Her mother, Bianca, stood outside the door with her ear pressed against it.

She listened for a few seconds before pulling away.

Her expression was almost completely indifferent.

She looked toward Benjamin, who was standing a few steps behind her.

“So she has been like this?” Bianca asked.

“Yeah,” Benjamin replied. “She has.”

He glanced toward Beth's door.

“If she's not crying, she's either throwing tantrums, breaking things, or not thinking before she does something.”

Bianca folded her arms.

“Eljin's death is ruining my family.”

Benjamin didn't respond immediately.

Bianca looked at him.

“I thought leaving you alone with the kids was a good idea, dear.”

“It was,” Benjamin said.

Bianca raised an eyebrow.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Benjamin shrugged. “As you can see, she's the only one who's a problem.”

Bianca gave him a long look.

Then she scoffed.

“I taught her better.”

She started toward the stairs.

“And you made her soft.”

Benjamin followed her with his eyes.

“I don't think grief works like that.”

Bianca stopped halfway down the stairs and looked back at him.

“Everything works like something.”

Benjamin sighed.

He already knew where this conversation was going.

“I called your mom,” he said.

Bianca's expression changed slightly.

She turned around.

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn't expect you to be back by the time she arrives.”

He paused.

“But it seems she'll be late.”

Bianca stared at him.

“She said she'd help Beth through her grief.”

For a moment, Bianca said nothing.

Then she gave him a strangely calm smile.

“I don't think you understand what that means, honey.”

Benjamin frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Bianca simply continued downstairs.

“Let me make some food.”

She smiled as though they had just been discussing breakfast rather than their daughter's emotional collapse.

“Okay, love.”

Benjamin turned and started walking back upstairs.

As he passed Bella's room, he glanced at the door.

A few stickers were scattered across it.

BE KIND.

I'M ASLEEP.

And his favorite:

DON'T SNEAK IN — DOOR NOT LOCKED.

Benjamin stopped for a moment.

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Smart girl,” he muttered.

He shook his head and continued upstairs.

Behind Beth's door, the crying continued.

Downstairs, Bianca opened the kitchen cabinets.

And the Beaumont house carried on with its morning.



Bella lay on her bed, hugging her pillow tightly against her chest.

The room was quiet.

Morning light slipped through the curtains, leaving soft patches of brightness across the walls. For once, there was nothing demanding her attention.

Except the voice.

“I think there has to be a reason for us to have this connection,” the voice said inside her mind. “The only sad part is, it's hard to figure out.”

Bella stared at the ceiling.

“Maybe we're not supposed to figure it out.”

“You don't sound very interested in finding out.”

“I am.”

She paused.

“Eventually.”

The voice went quiet for a moment.

Bella smiled faintly.

“It doesn't matter as long as you stay there.”

“There?”

“In my mind.”

The voice seemed almost amused.

“Oh, you're serious? Even if it eventually means you're going insane?”

Bella chuckled softly.

“I'd definitely prefer that.”

“You would?”

“Yeah.”

She squeezed the pillow a little tighter.

“At least I'd have someone to talk to.”

There was a brief silence.

Not an uncomfortable one.

Bella had started getting used to those moments.

She didn't need to speak every second.

The voice was simply there.

Always there.

Somewhere inside her thoughts, yet somehow separate from them.

Bella looked toward the window.

“I should go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. You should.”

The voice sounded almost pleased.

“I'll be here in your mind waiting for you to accidentally say something while you're thinking.”

Bella smiled.

“How cute.”

“Maybe.”

Bella rolled onto her side, still hugging her pillow.

She closed her eyes.
The room became quieter.
And somewhere inside her mind, the voice remained awake.

Early in the morning, Lucas was already at Cavewoods.

Since it was Saturday, there was no reason for him to be at the library. The Oakwood Public Library would still have people coming and going throughout the weekend, especially students looking for somewhere quiet to spend their time, but Lucas had no reason to be there today.

He had chosen the cliff instead.

Cavewoods was quiet this early.

The trees stood almost completely still, with only the occasional movement of leaves breaking the silence. A cool breeze passed through the woods as Lucas walked toward the edge of the cliff, his hands tucked into his pockets.

This was the place where many people had made their final decision.

They came here, stood at the edge, and took one step forward.

Then there was nothing beneath them.

Lucas stopped at the edge and looked down.

Far below, the river moved steadily through the rocks. From this height, the water looked almost peaceful.

Almost.

His eyes followed the river for a moment before something caught his attention.

Someone was down there.

A man.

He was standing near the river with a fishing rod in his hands, apparently completely comfortable with being at the bottom of a cliff that most people only approached when they had no intention of coming back.

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

He couldn't remember ever seeing anyone down there before.

He watched the man for a while.

The fisherman didn't seem to notice him.

Lucas tilted his head.

“What the hell are you doing down there?”

The question wasn't really directed at the man. There was no chance the guy could hear him from that distance.

Still, Lucas remained where he was.

Watching.

His curiosity began getting the better of him.

Usually, Lucas was perfectly capable of ignoring things that weren't his business.

Usually.

But this was different.

He had spent enough time at Cavewoods to know every path he regularly used. He had claimed this spot as his own little place to disappear from everything, yet he had never once bothered to find out what existed beneath the cliff.

Now there was a reason to.

For the first time since securing this spot for himself, Lucas decided he was going down there.

He stepped away from the edge and started looking through the woods for a path.

There had to be one.

He searched along the side of the cliff, pushing branches aside and stepping over exposed roots. He found a few steep sections where the ground dropped sharply, but nothing that looked safe enough to climb.

He tried another direction.

Nothing.

Then another.

Still nothing.

Lucas stopped and looked back toward the river.

The fisherman was still there.

Fishing.

Completely unaware that Lucas was standing above him, trying to figure out how to get down.

Lucas rubbed his chin.

“Okay.”

He looked around the woods.

“If there's no path...”

His eyes moved toward the trees.

“...I'll make one.”

He walked away from the cliff.

A few minutes later, Lucas returned carrying a long rope.

He approached one of the trees growing near the edge and began securing the rope around its thick trunk.

He pulled on it several times to make sure it was firmly tied.

Then he looked over the cliff again.

The river waited below.

So did the fisherman.

Lucas tightened his grip on the rope.

And prepared to climb down.



Lucas held onto the rope and looked down.

The fisherman still hadn't looked up.

Not once.

Lucas watched him for another few seconds, almost expecting the man to notice him hanging above the river.

Nothing.

He took a deep breath.

Then he began climbing down.

The first few steps were easy enough.

Then the cliff became steeper.

Lucas tightened his grip around the rope and lowered himself carefully, placing his feet against the uneven surface of the rock.

Every step felt like the wrong one.

Like the slightest mistake would send him tumbling down.

He moved slowly.

One foot.

Then the other.

He kept his eyes on where he was placing his feet, occasionally glancing toward the river below.

A loose rock shifted beneath his shoe.

“Shit—”

Lucas jerked his foot back as the rock broke free and fell down the cliff.

He froze.

The rock bounced off the cliffside several times before disappearing toward the river.

Lucas looked down.

The fisherman didn't react.

He hadn't even flinched.

Lucas stared at him.

The man simply continued fishing.

Lucas shook his head.

“Okay...”

He continued down.

Another step.

Another.

Then another loose section of rock gave way beneath him.

Lucas nearly lost his balance.

His body swung away from the cliff as he desperately tightened his grip around the rope.

For a second, his feet dangled above the rocks.

Then he managed to find his footing again.

He breathed heavily.

“Jesus.”

The fisherman still didn't look up.

Lucas continued.

Eventually, the cliff began to flatten.

His feet finally touched solid ground.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He had made it.

Lucas stood at the bottom of the cliff.

For the first time, he was standing on the ground where so many people had landed.

Where so many final moments had ended.

He looked around.

The rocks were clean.

Not a trace of blood.

Not even an old stain.

It was almost strange.

From above, he had imagined this place differently.

He had imagined the rocks stained by years of death.

But there was nothing.

Just stone.

The river flowed beside him, moving calmly between the rocks.

The trees whispered in the breeze.

Birds called somewhere deeper in the woods.

The sound of the water mixing with the wind created a strange kind of peace.

Lucas stood there quietly.

It was almost impossible to believe that this was Cavewoods.

A place known for death felt completely untouched by it.

He looked toward the fisherman.

The man was still sitting there.

Still fishing.

Still completely calm.

And somehow, that bothered Lucas more than anything else.



Lucas walked toward the fisherman.

The man's bucket sat beside him.

Empty.

Lucas glanced at it, then at the fishing rod in the man's hands.

“What are you doing out here?”

The question left his mouth before he could think about it.

Fuck. That was a dumb question.

The fisherman didn't even look at him.

“Fishing.”

Lucas stared at him.

“I can see that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

The man kept his eyes on the river.

There was something strange about the way he looked at it.

Not like a fisherman waiting for a bite.

More like a man hungry for something the river hadn't given him yet.

Lucas looked down at the water.

It moved calmly between the rocks.

He tried to see beneath the surface, hoping to catch a glimpse of even one fish passing by.

Nothing.

“What type of fish do you think you'll catch here?”

The fisherman finally answered.

“Mermaid.”

Lucas stopped.

He slowly turned his head toward him.

The fisherman hadn't smiled.

He didn't look like he was joking.

He was completely serious.

Lucas stared at him for a moment.

“Mermaids aren't real.”

The fisherman finally looked at him.

“Neither are fish until you catch one.”

Lucas blinked.

He wasn't sure what to do with that answer.

The fisherman turned his attention back toward the river.

Lucas studied him for a moment longer.

There was something about this guy.

Something he couldn't quite place.

Maybe it was the fact that he was fishing at the bottom of a suicide cliff.

Maybe it was the mermaid thing.

Or maybe it was simply the way he spoke as if everything he said made perfect sense.

Lucas decided he might as well ask.

“What's your name? Are you a student?”

The fisherman looked at him.

“I am Damon.”

He paused.

“Not a student.”

His eyes returned to the river.

“But I'm looking for a room.”

Lucas stared at him.

“You came all the way down here looking for a room?”

Damon said nothing.

Lucas pulled out his phone and looked at the screen for a moment.

No particular reason.

He simply needed something to do while processing the conversation.

He scratched the back of his head before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“I don't sell room information in the woods like some kind of drug dealer.”

Damon remained silent.

Lucas looked toward the rope hanging from the cliff.

“Well, I should probably go.”

He took a step toward it.

“Hope you catch some fish.”

Damon didn't answer.

Lucas grabbed the rope and started climbing.



As Lucas climbed, he couldn't help talking to himself.

“Another weird guy fishing for mermaids and looking for a room.”

He pulled himself higher, gripping the rope tightly as he climbed.

“Something makes me feel like being in this university corrupts you.”

He reached the top of the cliff and pulled himself onto solid ground.

Lucas sat there for a moment, catching his breath.

Then—

Snap.

The rope broke.

Lucas froze.

He slowly looked at the broken end still wrapped around the tree.

Then he looked over the edge of the cliff.

“Oh... damn.”

He stared at the rope hanging uselessly down the side.

“I almost didn't make it.”

Lucas stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes.

Then he looked down toward where Damon had been sitting.

Nothing.

Lucas frowned.

The spot beside the river was empty.

The bucket was gone.

The fishing rod was gone.

Damon was gone.

Lucas looked left.

Nothing.

He looked right.

Nothing.

He leaned slightly over the edge, trying to get a better view of the area below.

Still nothing.

He hadn't heard footsteps.

He hadn't heard the fisherman leave.

There hadn't even been enough time for him to climb the cliff.

Lucas stared at the empty space for a few seconds.

“...Okay.”

He straightened himself.

“I need rest.”

He turned away from the cliff and started walking through the woods.

Behind him, Cavewoods returned to its usual silence.

And somewhere far below, the river continued flowing as if nothing had happened.

Bella walked outside with her hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie, her steps faster than usual.

She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Unfortunately, she had someone to talk to anyway.

“You're busy.”

Bella barely reacted to the voice.

“Yeah. She stole my charger.”

She kept walking.

“And she's lying about it.”

Her jaw tightened.

“She fucking stole my charger and left the fucking head.”

“Eh, I really don't get why you leave your charger when you're aware she might steal it, as she did before.”

Bella stopped for half a second.

“What the fuck?”

She continued walking.

“I forgot it this morning.”

“You can't expect simple change from someone like her, bruh.”

“The bitch took the chance and stole it.”

Bella kicked a small stone out of her path.

“And she was lying to my face.”

She shook her head.

“Wtf.”

Her pace quickened.

“I'm pissed right now.”

She dragged a hand over her face.

“Like, seriously fucking pissed.”

She knew.

“She knows she stole it.”

Bella stared ahead.

“She knows.”

“Um...”

The voice paused.

“Yeah. She knows.”

Bella didn't answer.

“She's just lying.”

Bella exhaled through her nose.

Then again.

She slowed her breathing, taking a few deep breaths as she continued down the path.

“I'm gonna go borrow a charger.”

“Um... sorry about that, love.”

Bella remained silent.

“Just don't give her another chance to piss you off.”

“Nah, bruh.”

Bella shook her head.

“Witch took it.”

She muttered the next words under her breath.

“That stupid bitch.”

She glanced around as she walked.

“She's acting like a victim.”

“Well, she loves pretending.”

Bella didn't respond.

“It's shitty.”

The voice continued.

“Maybe you should steal it from her.”

A pause.

“But I bet that will cause more problems.”

Bella kept walking.

She wasn't listening anymore.

Her mind had already moved on to finding someone with a charger she could borrow. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but her attention had drifted away from the conversation.

The voice noticed.

It didn't stop.

“Honestly, I don't know why people do that.”

Bella walked past a group of students without acknowledging them.

“They take something, get caught, and suddenly they're the victim.”

She kept walking.

“Then they make you feel guilty for being angry about it.”

Nothing.

The voice continued anyway.

“It's almost impressive.”

Bella's thoughts were elsewhere now.

She wasn't deliberately ignoring it.

She simply wasn't focusing on it anymore.

And because of that, the voice began to sound less like a conversation and more like something that existed on its own.

“Anyway...”

A pause.

“You really should stop leaving your charger around.”

Bella continued walking.

The voice went on inside her mind.

And Bella didn't answer.




It was afternoon when a car pulled up in front of the Beaumont house.

An old woman stepped out.

She opened the back door, reached inside, and pulled out a bag before closing the car again. She adjusted her clothes, looked toward the house, and made her way to the front door.

Before she could knock, the door opened.

Bianca stood there with a smile.

“Afternoon, Mom.”

She immediately wrapped her arms around the old woman.

Beatrice Beaumont smiled and hugged her daughter back.

“How have you been, my child?”

“I've been alright.”

Bianca stepped aside, allowing her mother into the house.

Beatrice entered, carrying her bag with her.

“Is Benjamin home?” she asked.

“Yeah, he's home.”

Bianca closed the door behind them.

“Is there something you want from him?”

Beatrice looked at her daughter.

“Of course. He called me here.”

Bianca rolled her eyes.

“You didn't have to come just because a worm like him called you, Mom.”

Beatrice gave her a look.

“It was about Beth.”

She paused.

“My favourite.”

Bianca's expression remained unimpressed.

Beatrice walked toward the sitting room and placed her bag down.

“Now go call your husband.”

She looked around the house.

“And where's your youngest daughter?”

“Oh, Bella? She's out.”

Bianca turned toward the stairs.

As soon as her mother wasn't looking at her, the smile disappeared from her face.

Her expression hardened.

She walked upstairs, her footsteps becoming heavier with every step.

When she reached the bedroom, she opened the door.

Benjamin was asleep.

Bianca stood in the doorway for a moment.

“Ben.”

Nothing.

She walked closer.

“Wake up.”

Benjamin didn't move.

“Mom is here.”

Still nothing.

Bianca stared at him.

Then, without warning, she slapped him hard across the face.

SMACK.

Benjamin jolted awake.

Bianca smiled brightly at him as if she had just playfully tapped him on the shoulder.

“Heyyy, wake up. Mom is here, honey.”

Benjamin's face was still red from the slap.

He slowly rubbed his cheek and looked at Bianca.

“I'll follow behind.”

Bianca smiled.

“Good.”

She walked out of the room.

Before she reached the stairs, she stopped.

“Don't forget.”

Benjamin looked at her.

“Don't forget what?”

Bianca's expression suddenly became serious.

“Don't mention Elsa. At all.”

Benjamin's face changed slightly.

“Unless you want Grandpa Raker to take care of us.”

She gave him a look that made it clear she wasn't joking.

Then she walked downstairs.

Benjamin remained in the bedroom for a moment, watching the doorway after she left.

Downstairs, Beatrice was already sitting in the living room, busy watching television.

Bianca walked over to her.

“Have you found him?”

“I have. He said he's coming.”

“Good girl.”

Beatrice stood up.

“Make me my tea.”

Bianca gave her a small look before heading toward the kitchen.

Beatrice, meanwhile, picked up her bag and began walking upstairs.

She reached Beth's room.

She opened the door and stepped inside before quietly closing it behind her.

Beth was still in bed.

She turned her head toward the door.

When she saw who it was, her face immediately brightened.

“Grandma.”

Beth tried to get out of bed.

She pushed herself upright and placed her feet on the floor.

But the moment she tried to stand, her legs gave out.

She fell.

“Aw, little one.”

Beatrice hurried over and helped her back onto the bed.

“You shouldn't force your body to do the work of two souls.”

Beth looked at her grandmother.

“Morning, Grandma.”

Beatrice smiled.

“It's not morning.”

She leaned closer and kissed Beth gently on the forehead.

Then she returned to her bag.

She opened it and pulled something out.

A teddy bear.

It was old, but carefully kept.

Beatrice handed it to Beth.

“Here.”

Beth looked at it.

Beatrice smiled.

“Hug it tight. It will bring your strength back.”

Beth held the teddy bear against her chest.

For the first time that morning, she seemed a little calmer.

Beatrice gave her another gentle look before turning toward the door.

She opened it.

As she stepped into the hallway, Benjamin was already there, heading downstairs.

“Mom.”

Beatrice looked at him.

“I'm so glad you made it.”

Benjamin smiled.

“Is Beth okay now?”

“She'll be okay.”

Beatrice closed the door behind her.

“You did well calling me before things could get worse.”

Benjamin nodded.

There was genuine relief in his expression.

Beatrice began walking down the hallway toward the stairs.

“Drink tea with me.”

Benjamin smiled.

“Yeah, Mom.”

He followed behind her.

And behind the closed bedroom door, Beth remained sitting on her bed, holding the teddy bear tightly against her chest.



Time passed.

By then, the three of them had settled around the table, their tea nearly finished and a few crumbs from the buns scattered across the plates.

The conversation had been ordinary.

Until Beatrice suddenly looked toward Bianca.

“Bella Beaumont.”

Bianca and Benjamin both looked at her.

Bianca raised an eyebrow.

“What is it, Mom?”

Beatrice took another sip of her tea before setting the cup down.

“This year, she will be of age.”

Benjamin's expression changed slightly.

Bianca remained quiet.

“I have already chosen who will be teaching her.”

Benjamin frowned.

“Isn't it too early for her to be taught?”

“No, it isn't early, Ben.”

Bianca bumped her shoulder against Benjamin's.

He looked at her.

She gave him a small look as if telling him to stay out of it.

Bianca turned back toward her mother.

“Mom, who will be teaching her?”

“It will be Becca.”

Beatrice said it casually, as though the name meant nothing.

“I've already told her to come.”

She picked up her cup again.

“She'll be here in four days.”

Bianca's expression immediately changed.

“Becca?”

She looked toward Benjamin.

He, on the other hand, seemed almost pleased.

Of all the people Beatrice could have chosen, Becca was someone Benjamin actually got along with.

Bianca noticed his expression.

“I don't like Becca.”

Benjamin said nothing.

Beatrice frowned.

“Don't be like that, Bianca.”

She looked directly at her daughter.

“Becca is your sister. You should treat her with respect.”

Bianca leaned back in her chair.

“Becca is stupid.”

Benjamin glanced at her.

“And she wants my husband.”

“Bianca—”

“She does.”

Her voice became sharper.

“She'll ruin my family.”

She paused.

“And she'll ruin my Bella.”

Beatrice remained calm.

Bianca stared at her mother.

“Can you choose someone else, please, Mom?”

Beatrice shook her head.

“I was only advised by your great-grandfather.”

Bianca's expression hardened.

“This isn't my decision to make.”

She took another sip of tea.

“If you wish to change who teaches her, go and talk to your great-grandfather, my child.”

Bianca fell silent.

Benjamin looked between them.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

The name of their great-grandfather had changed the atmosphere at the table completely.

Whatever Becca was going to teach Bella, it was apparently something that had been decided long before Bella was old enough to have a say in it.



“There's really no need for you to do that,” Benjamin said.

Bianca slowly turned toward him.

Her eyes narrowed.

Benjamin noticed.

He wisely decided not to say anything else.

Before Bianca could respond, the front door suddenly opened.

Everyone in the sitting room looked toward the entrance.

A bald head appeared first.

Then Bennett walked inside.

His appearance had changed since the last time Beatrice had seen him.

There were now tattoos covering his bald head, strange markings stretching across his scalp like written symbols.

Bennett was smiling as though there was absolutely nothing unusual about his appearance.

Beatrice stared at him.

Benjamin stared at him.

Even Bianca, who had already left the sitting room, seemed to have noticed.

Bennett rubbed the side of his head.

“Seems you have taken a liking to my beautiful head.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

“What's all that?”

“Scriptures.”

He smiled proudly.

“I got them from the Black Templars.”

Benjamin stared at him.

Beatrice, however, simply smiled.

“Rebellious Bennett.”

She opened her arms.

“Come to Nana.”

Bennett walked over without hesitation.

The two hugged.

Beatrice squeezed him tightly before letting go.

“How have you been?”

“I've been fine.”

Bennett shrugged.

“Just school and teenage-life mistakes.”

Beatrice smiled.

“That's how you learn things in life.”

Bennett nodded.

“Yeah.”

He glanced toward the door.

“I should be going.”

Beatrice looked at him.

“My friends are waiting outside. I only came to get my bottle of oil.”

He started toward the hallway.

“Bennett?”

He looked back.

“Don't be gone too long.”

“I won't.”

He disappeared toward his room.

Beatrice watched him leave.

Then she slowly turned toward Benjamin.

“How old is he?”

Benjamin was already looking back at the television.

“Sixteen.”

Hours later, it was already night.

Most of the house had gone quiet. Lights had been turned off in the rooms, footsteps had disappeared from the hallways, and most people were already asleep.

Bella wasn't.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

The room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window.

Her pillow was tucked beneath her head as she let out a tired breath.

“I had a fight,” she said quietly.

She paused.

“I cried.”

Her face tightened slightly.

“Stupidly... in front of her.”

She pulled the blanket slightly higher.

“I just wanna be silent.”

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then the voice spoke.

“Hey.”

Bella didn't respond immediately.

“You shouldn't have done that.”

The voice sounded calm.

“You should've just ignored her actions and stopped leaving your charger around. It's more peaceful.”

Bella frowned.

“She lied.”

She turned onto her side.

“I got ticked off.”

Her voice became more frustrated as she continued.

“I already had a messed-up day.”

She stared at the wall.

“I come home, my charger's gone, then she lies.”

Bella exhaled.

“And yeah, it's possible I can steal it if I want to, but Mom hides her money.”

She paused, thinking about it.

“Sometimes she forgets where she even hid it herself. Nobody knows her hiding spots, so how the fuck am I supposed to steal it?”

The voice remained quiet.

Bella continued.

“Second, she said I broke her keys.”

She shook her head.

“I don't even touch her keys. That's for her safety.”

Her expression became more irritated.

“How the fuck do you break a key?”

She sat up slightly.

“And the key to my room? What's the use of breaking it when she can get in anyway without them?”

She stared ahead.

“She said I freaking broke keys?”

“She lies a lot.”

The voice sounded almost matter-of-fact.

“I know you can't help it, but when you're pissed, talk back less. You obviously don't want to take her bullshit and stuff, but people like her are just energy-killing.”

Bella went quiet.

Her anger had begun fading into exhaustion.

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her hands.

“It was my fault.”

“Sometimes it's best to let her say the stupid bullshit and ignore it.”

Bella sighed.

“I regret not just leaving it.”

“Because ignoring her is better than getting involved in shit.”

“I regret shouting at her.”

Bella's voice became quieter.

“I feel guilty.”

She looked toward the window.

“This is my lesson to keep my mouth shut.”

“Well, you shouting was actually a bad move.”

The voice paused.

“You only had to walk out and shout outside.”

Bella gave a tired laugh.

“I need to learn to stay calm even in hard situations.”

“Yeah. That's the move.”

The voice sounded almost encouraging.

“Or if you see you can't, you just leave.”

A brief silence followed.

“Better to leave than say bad shit you'll regret.”

Bella nodded to herself.

“I said enough.”

“Maybe a lot.”

Bella sighed.

“Nothing she will hear again.”

The voice seemed amused.

“When someone says bullshit, I act like they're not there at all.”

Bella smiled faintly.

“That'll piss her off more.”

“Or ask something that isn't even about the situation.”

Bella shook her head.

“Twisting shit. I hate that.”

She paused.

“She kicked me out.”

Her expression tightened again.

“And when I wanted to leave, she stopped me.”

“She's dramatic.”

The voice paused.

“And obviously childish.”

Bella stared at the ceiling again.

“As you know, when my emotions get out of control, my thoughts are everywhere and nowhere.”

She rubbed her eyes.

“And when I'm pissed, they just shut down.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

The voice sounded softer now.

“You're explosive.”

Bella didn't argue.

“But by now, you know what type of person she is.”

The voice continued.

“You should be able to handle her lies, victim acts, twisting shit... all of it.”

Bella took a slow breath.

“I was already in a bad mood.”

She looked down.

“But yeah.”

A small pause.

“You're right.”

She sighed.

“It's my fault.”

Bella shifted beneath the blanket.

“I already apologized to her.”

She thought for a moment.

“And the kids.”

Another pause.

“And Dad.”

“Well, that's good stuff.”

Bella smiled slightly.

“Thanks, love.”