"I… I think Mr. Kieron isn't human!"
Devanie's sudden declaration during the club meeting struck Leci like a stone dropped into still water — sending ripples of unease through her chest. Until now, she had believed she was the only one who knew the truth about Kieron. His identity was a secret she had guarded alone.
But now… Devanie — timid, soft-spoken Devanie — was claiming aloud that Kieron wasn't human.
How was that even possible?
"Hahaha… are you delirious?" Cullen guessed between bouts of laughter.
The other members of the Journalism Club shared the sentiment. Not a single one of them believed Devanie's words. One after another, they burst into laughter, effortlessly dismissing her claim as nonsense — simply another one of Devanie's strange exaggerations.
"But I'm serious," Devanie insisted, hugging her trembling arms as if trying to anchor herself. "In class earlier… he was terrifying."
Her voice shook. Her pale face reflected a fear so genuine that even Leci felt a chill slide down her spine.
Leci found herself growing uneasy, curiosity gnawing at her thoughts. What had Kieron done to reduce someone as gentle as Devanie to this trembling state?
From what Leci knew, Devanie was not the type to stand out, nor the type to provoke conflict. She glided through school life quietly, harmlessly — never making enemies, never stirring trouble.
So why would Kieron frighten her?
As the others continued laughing at Devanie's expense, Leci's mind wandered — back to that day in the empty clubroom. To the incident involving Devanie and Cullen.
She glanced subtly at the pair. Could it be… that Kieron had somehow discovered what the two of them had done that day?
But that wasn't Leci's business. Besides, no one believed Devanie anyway.
In a way, that meant their secret was still safe… right?
Clap, clap, clap.
Fianna, the president of the Journalism Club, clapped her hands sharply, pulling everyone's attention back to her. She forced the group to stop laughing and end their teasing of Devanie.
"Alright, alright. Let's get back on track, everyone," Fianna announced with her hands resting confidently on her hips.
At once — almost instinctively — the club members straightened up and returned to their seats, their earlier laughter dissolving into disciplined silence. All eyes locked onto Fianna, who now stood at the front of the table like a captain regaining command of her ship.
Leci quietly observed from her seat, obedient and composed, though her thoughts still lingered on Devanie's trembling voice.
"Our school's representative just won the national-level speech competition," Fianna began, her tone bright yet authoritative. "The Student Council President has requested that we interview the winner."
A murmur stirred among the club members, though none dared speak. Fianna's gaze swept over each face — sharp, discerning, evaluating who would be the next to shoulder the club's responsibilities.
"So," she continued, "who's willing to take the lead on this interview?"
She looked from one member to the next. But the room fell into collective stillness — everyone either averting their gaze or pretending they hadn't heard the question at all. No hands rose. No volunteers stepped forward.
At last, Fianna sighed softly, then raised her finger.
"If that's the case, I'll leave it to Leciara."
Silence snapped into place like a trap.
Leci's name echoed in her own skull. Her spine straightened instinctively, her breath catching as if someone had pulled the ground from beneath her feet.
Me? She had never once conducted a school interview in the entire year she'd been in the Journalism Club. She usually only edited articles or helped select which reports to publish — quiet, behind-the-scenes work that suited her perfectly.
Being thrust into the spotlight so suddenly made her pulse race.
"M–me?" Leci pointed at herself, her voice trembling in disbelief — as though Fianna had just mistaken her for someone else entirely.
She had only joined the Journalism Club to uncover the truth behind the Lost Spirit haunting the school. She never once intended to actively participate in its activities. And yet… why did it feel like she was suddenly being pulled deeper into the club's orbit?
Fianna nodded with absolute certainty. "Yes. This is a perfect chance for you to finally show what you're capable of," she said warmly — too warmly, as if she were trying to ignite some hidden spark inside Leci.
The rest of the club members erupted into applause, far too enthusiastically to be sincere. Of course they were happy — none of them had been chosen to take on the special assignment.
Leci, meanwhile, only fell into deeper confusion.
She hadn't the faintest idea who the winner of the speech competition even was. And yet she was the one being tasked to interview them?
"Um… w–who exactly won the competition?" Leci ventured, her voice small, careful, almost pleading.
Fianna answered without hesitation — and Leci felt the world stop.
"It's Irza Nagel, the former Student Council President."
The moment the name Irza Nagel left Fianna's lips, it struck Leci like a jolt of electricity — sharp, sudden, merciless.
She never expected to hear that name again. Not after nearly a year had passed since her first love quietly came to an end. She had worked so hard to bury it, to forget its warmth and its ache. And for the most part… she had succeeded.
Or so she thought.
But now?
Out of nowhere, without warning — they wanted her to interview Irza? As if the universe itself had plucked the one name she wasn't ready to face and placed it right before her.
Why? What was the meaning of all this? There had been no omen, no whisper of fate, no gentle shift in the wind — yet suddenly she was being pushed toward the one person she thought she'd never have to confront again.
Her stomach twisted.
Slowly, Leci raised her hand, mustering the courage to protest. If only the interviewee were someone — anyone — else, she would have gladly accepted the assignment.
"But… what happens if I refuse?" Her voice came out soft, cautious — almost fragile.
Fianna's warm expression froze instantly, replaced by a chilling sharpness. Her eyes narrowed, trapping Leci in a gaze that felt far too heavy.
"Well," Fianna replied coolly, "since club activities help contribute to your academic record… your grades might simply disappear. After all, you're the one who refuses to cooperate."
Leci's heart sank.
Of course. Of course it would turn out like this. She should've known the moment she tried to resist. Fianna wasn't threatening her outright — but the meaning behind her words was unmistakable.
Cornered, Leci had no choice.
"…All right. I'll do it," she answered, each word dropping like a stone in her chest. She agreed with great reluctance, but there was no turning back now.
Fianna immediately brightened, looking satisfied. Meanwhile, the other club members quietly exhaled in relief — thirty more minutes of discussion awaited them, but at least none of them had been dragged into this particular storm.
⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄⋅⋆⋄⋅⋆⋄
Message:
Teacher, I'm heading to the Basil Residential Complex in the Western District of the Capital to investigate the Haunted Lotus Pond.
Status: Sent
Leci slipped her phone back into the pocket of her blazer. For some reason, she was hunting a ghost alone today — Kieron was nowhere to be found. He vanished without leaving even a whisper behind. Where on earth did that man go?
The Journalism Club meeting had lasted barely an hour. Had he grown impatient and simply… left?
Huft… whatever. At the very least, she had already sent him a message.
Tightening the straps of her backpack, Leci stepped forward just as the bus she'd been waiting for finally arrived.
The Basil Housing Complex — Leci had learned the address from Taryn. A secluded residential area, distant from the city's usual bustle despite being part of the capital. It took her around fifteen minutes to reach it by bus.
Still no reply from Kieron, even as Leci found herself standing before the complex's front gate. For a supposedly luxurious neighborhood, the atmosphere here felt strangely bleak. A shadowed stillness clung to the air. Leci stepped inside. Thankfully, there were no guards nor restrictions for outsiders entering the area.
Leci paused and reached into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a folded piece of paper Taryn had given her. On it were simple hand-drawn directions to the lotus pond she'd mentioned that morning. According to the map, Leci only needed to walk straight until she reached a turn marked by a mango tree.
Following the instructions, she arrived exactly at the mango tree. Her stomach growled instinctively at the sight of ripe mangoes hanging heavily from its branches. Seeing the fenced area, Leci guessed the tree belonged to someone.
Ignoring her hunger, she continued. She needed to take a left turn next until she found a squirrel statue with peeling paint. And there it was — worn, faded, and oddly endearing. Her stomach grumbled again at the carved acorn in the statue's tiny paws.
I should've bought something to eat before I came here… Leci grumbled internally while turning left again.She veered right only after spotting a small, silent playground. With the sun nearly swallowed by the horizon, the quietness felt fitting — expected, even.
After some walking, Leci reached a dim road — darker than the others in the area. A shiver crawled across her skin, not from fear, but from the uncanny sense of isolation. She silently admired Taryn for being brave enough to take Ciko on walks through a place like this.
The road was quieter because it lay on the edge of the neighborhood. On her right stood a two-meter-tall iron fence protecting a wide garden. On her left, a brick wall rose one and a half meters high.
The lighting was minimal, leaving the path swallowed by shadows. Leci walked calmly through them. She was not afraid of spirits — after all, she had come here precisely to meet them.
Her brows furrowed when she noticed an old woman standing alone at the roadside, unmoving, staring into the fenced area where a broken gate hung loosely. Something about the scene tugged at Leci's instincts. She found herself approaching.
Shwaaa…
As soon as she stood beside the old woman, a chilling aura washed over her — cold, oppressive, unmistakably supernatural. It emanated from the pond beyond the wall, the one the old woman had been watching.
Sensing Leci's presence, the woman turned, a gentle smile blooming on her wrinkled face. "Oh my, why is a young girl wandering around here alone?"
Leci returned the smile politely. "I just came from a friend's house. We were working on a school assignment," she lied effortlessly.
The old woman didn't seem suspicious. She simply nodded slowly. "Be careful, dear. There have been more crimes in this neighborhood lately. If possible, ask someone to pick you up. Don't walk home by yourself." Her hand patted Leci's shoulder with grandmotherly warmth.
Inside, Leci apologized — for lying, and for knowing she couldn't follow the woman's advice. Still, she nodded obediently, playing the role of a model student as the old woman offered a few more pieces of heartfelt guidance.
"Oh—right. May I ask what you're doing here? I noticed you were looking at the pond earlier." Leci ventured carefully, hoping for information.
The old woman shifted her gaze back to the pond — now murky, littered with fallen leaves. The water had turned green with neglect.
"I was simply reminded of an old tale…" Her voice drifted, soft as a fading wind.
"…A story of a wife who was killed by her husband in that very pond."