When we arrived, we walked the corridor of the SHS building and unlocked the door to the Student Council office. I sank into my chair, while Kyoi sprawled onto the sofa across from me.
"So, what's up?" he asked casually.
I leaned back, sighing deeply. "Well… I've wrapped up everything for the week. But now, my hands are tied to a missing twin."
His lips puckered slightly as he nodded. "And what have you got so far?"
"Only the records of who's in charge of Greenhouse 1. My plan was to interview them one by one. Maybe I'd find a lead."
Kyoi narrowed his eyes. "That's a slow, vague plan. There are eighteen or more members in each greenhouse—1 through 4. And for all you know, the suspect isn't even from the club at all."
I clenched my jaw. He was right. My plan was shallow—barely enough to scratch the surface.
"Felix… I know you, and right now, you're running through walls, don't rush. Think."
His words echoed in my head. I fidgeted with the chain around my neck. The sound of a grandfather clock ticked inside me, louder, steadier. I let myself sink into the trance: my breath, Kyoi's breath. Water trickling. Boots crunching. Newspapers rustling in a breeze. The smell of dirt.
I blinked, meeting Kyoi's patient gaze. "Kyoi. June 6, 2024. The newspaper."
His calm expression fractured into realization. His eyes widened. "Rutherford…" He shot to his feet, rifling through stacks until he found it.
"June 6, 2024. The death of Hanna Cruz—found buried in her school garden."
A chill ran through me.
"So…" My voice caught.
We stared at each other, unspoken words tying the thread between us.
I rushed toward the greenhouse, but Kyoi gripped my wrist hard. "Felix! Slow down. If you run straight there and something's found, you'll be the one blamed. And what makes you so sure she's buried there?" His whisper was sharp, his grip desperate.
"Because everything points to it—she disappeared from Greenhouse 1. Like Hanna. Like her twin said—she never left."
"Still!" His tone cracked with worry.
"But Kyoi—"
"No buts." His eyes locked on mine, commanding. "Rationalize. Breathe through your nose."
I inhaled with him. Exhaled. My mind steadied. "Okay. So what do we do?"
He hesitated. "…Dig."
The moment he said it, a sharp pain stabbed my skull. A voice screamed through me. "Hurry, Felix. Dig!"
I staggered, clutching my head.
"Felix? Are you okay?" Kyoi's voice blurred, echoing like it came from underwater.
"Do as I say!" The weight of his scream inside my mind made the pain unbearable.
"I'm fine," I forced out. "We can't tell anyone—"
"—Or you'll trigger the trap," the voice hissed.
Kyoi's face twisted in confusion. "But what if they blame us?"
"If we tell them now, the suspect will know we're onto them. They'll vanish—or worse."
Kyoi paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I trust you."
We walked casually into the greenhouse. My body was floating, sweating, every step heavier.
"We can't just dig at random," I whispered. "A body—after four days—it'd reek. It'd draw insects. Keep your eyes sharp. Look for disturbed soil. Look for the swarm."
The search began. Every step Kyoi took trembled with dread. I could hear his breathing, shaky, uneven. My own heart thundered, each beat echoing through my chest like a drum.
The Linnaea borealis flowers drew me in, their delicate faces staring like witnesses. My body shivered in rhythm with my pulse.
I knelt, shovel in hand. Slowly. Carefully. Soil turned under the blade. Insects wriggled and shoved deeper into the earth.
Then—resistance.
The shovel struck something solid.
"So pale, Felix…"
The voice hissed as the earth gave way, revealing a pallid arm.
I dropped the shovel, trembling. "Shut up!" My voice cracked. My knees buckled, collapsing into the dirt.
Kyoi spun to me—then froze. His breath hitched, his body stumbling back as his eyes fell on the arm.
"No…" His whisper broke.
The laughter inside my skull rattled, mocking.
"We need to call someone," Kyoi stammered, trembling.
"No!"
"Felix, she's dead! She deserves respect."
My head throbbed violently. I felt no grief, no remorse—just the splitting ache in my skull.
"We're in no position to act on this ourselves," he begged. "Please. This isn't right."
I forced myself to breathe, the pounding easing slightly. "Fine."
He slipped his hand against my back, grounding me as we left the greenhouse.
…
After reporting to the head, after the truth spread like wildfire, the cold breeze found me again.
That was when I knew.
I had stepped on the trap.
And the hunter now had his eyes on me.