The Dubai sun set slow, draping the city in ribbons of gold, but inside the luxury hotel that hosted Goldridge Academy's seniors, the air was electric. It wasn't the kind of buzz that came from excitement or tourist hype. No, this was something darker—like static before a lightning strike.
Because Kevin was back.
The UK branch had whispered his name into existence just hours earlier, and now it was spreading like perfume and smoke through every corner of the hotel. By the time the evening lights blinked on across the skyline, students from the US and Swedish branches were already trading versions of the story.
"Did you hear? He used to be in their circle—Zion's circle.""Apparently he exposed Zion's parents' scandal and got smacked by Mabelle in front of the whole school.""No way. That's savage. And he still showed up here?""They say he's dangerous…like, teachers are even wary."
Rumor wasn't a stream anymore. It was a flood.
Zion felt it first at dinner. The hotel restaurant was buzzing louder than usual, students from every branch gathered around long marble tables, forks scraping against porcelain, conversation overlapping. Mabelle sat next to him, Celeste across from Mikey, Isla scrolling on her phone with Lucian peeking over her shoulder. Normally, Zion's presence commanded calm. Tonight? Eyes followed him. Whispers trailed like smoke.
He didn't need to guess why.
Kevin hadn't even made his move yet, but somehow, he was already winning.
Mabelle leaned closer, her perfume cutting through the heavy air. "They're talking about him, aren't they?"
Zion smirked, though his jaw was tight. "Let them. Kevin's always been good at rewriting the script. Doesn't mean I'll let him direct the play."
But even as he said it, he could feel the shift. Kevin wasn't charging at him head-on this time. No cheap tricks, no outbursts. He was letting the whispers do the heavy lifting.
Kevin played his part masterfully.
He wasn't sitting alone in a corner like some disgraced villain. No—he was at the rooftop lounge, casually sipping on iced coffee, looking like he belonged more than anyone else. And that was the point. He looked unbothered, unshaken. Students gravitated toward him out of sheer curiosity.
"You're Kevin, right?" one girl from the Swedish branch asked, sliding into the seat across from him. "Is it true what they say?"
Kevin's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Depends what they're saying."
"That Zion ruined you. That you tried to…you know, take him down."
Kevin leaned forward, his voice dropping low enough to hook her in. "Ruined me? No. Exposed him? Maybe. But do you really think everything you've heard about Zion Vale is true? People don't like uncomfortable truths. They prefer golden boys with clean reputations."
The girl frowned, processing. Kevin didn't press harder. He didn't need to. He let silence do the work, planting seeds that would grow later.
By the time she left, another group had slipped into her place. Then another. Kevin didn't beg for attention. He let it orbit him.
Downstairs, Zion noticed. Of course he did. He was watching Kevin the same way Kevin had always watched him.
Lucian was the first to speak. "He's working them," he muttered, eyes narrowed. "Not with shouting or drama—just soft poison. You let this go on too long, he'll have half the branches questioning your entire reputation."
Mikey shifted in his seat, restless. "Bro's acting like a cult leader. Can't believe people are eating this up."
Mabelle reached under the table, brushing her hand against Zion's. "You're not going to let this get to you, right?"
Zion's smirk didn't falter, but there was steel in his eyes. "Kevin wants me rattled. He won't get that. Let him have his whispers. I'll be waiting when he needs to shout."
But even as he spoke, Zion couldn't ignore the sting of how easily Kevin slipped back into the spotlight.
Later that night, the tension bled into the hallways.
Students gathered in clusters, whispering Kevin's name like it was forbidden, like saying it too loud might summon him. Some laughed, some defended Zion, some admitted they didn't know what to believe. And that was the problem. Doubt was a disease, and Kevin was spreading it faster than wildfire.
Isla clung to Lucian's arm, her face pale. "Why are people listening to him? He's…he's toxic. I mean, I've seen it."
Lucian tilted his head. "People love a villain, Isla. Especially one who looks like he's the underdog. They forget what he's done. They just want a story."
Isla's grip tightened. "But what if…" She didn't finish the sentence.
The teachers felt it too. Normally, staff kept their distance during excursions, but even they couldn't ignore the tension simmering in the air. One of them, Mr. Anderson, called Zion aside after curfew checks.
"Keep your head straight," he warned quietly. "This isn't just about you anymore. Kevin's presence—it unsettles the entire academy. Students are choosing sides. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you break character."
Zion gave a polite nod, but his mind was already racing.
Kevin wasn't just trying to embarrass him anymore. He was trying to destabilize the entire academy. And judging by the whispers in the hall, it was working.
The next morning confirmed it.
At breakfast, the US branch boys—Elias at the center—laughed loud enough for everyone to hear. "Hey Zion, thought you were untouchable, huh? Guess your halo's slipping."
Mabelle's eyes snapped up, fury burning in them, but Zion raised a hand to keep her calm. He looked Elias dead in the eye and said, "Funny thing about halos. Even when they slip, they still shine."
It silenced Elias, but the damage was done. The room had heard. The room had chosen to listen.
And in the corner, Kevin stirred his coffee with deliberate calm, watching like a king who didn't need a crown.
That night, Kevin made his boldest move yet.
He invited students from every branch—except the UK—into one of the hotel's private lounges. No teachers, no chaperones. Just him, leaning back like the host of some underground meeting.
The whispers from earlier turned into confessions. Students shared stories about how Zion intimidated them, or how the UK branch acted like they owned the school. Kevin didn't add much. He didn't need to. He just listened, validating every word with a nod or a quiet hum.
By the end of the night, the narrative had shifted. Zion wasn't the golden boy anymore. He was the empire Kevin promised to topple.
And yet—Zion saw it all coming.
Back in his suite, leaning against the glass wall that overlooked the glittering city, Zion smirked to himself.
Kevin thought he was playing chess. What he didn't know was that Zion had been watching him since the first whisper.
"You're loud when you think you're quiet," Zion muttered under his breath. "And I'll let you build your little army. Because when it falls, it'll fall harder than you ever imagined."
Mabelle stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her hair. "Talking to yourself again?"
Zion glanced at her, his smirk softening. "Just talking to my shadow."
She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "Then don't let the shadow win."
He didn't answer. He just stared out at Dubai's skyline, where somewhere in the same building, Kevin was plotting his next move.
The Whisper War had only just begun.