Arthur jolted midnight.
He got up, not hearing his parents anymore.
Arthur stepped into the hallway, the lights dim, the house unusually quiet.
The clock read 12:03 a.m.
His parents still weren't home.
A few maids were quietly cleaning, others sitting together, talking in low voices. The atmosphere felt… loose. Unsupervised. Different.
Then he noticed Heather.
She stood near the stairs, clipboard in hand, giving calm instructions like she owned the place—which, in practice, she almost did when his parents were gone.
The moment she saw Arthur, her attention locked onto him.
"Arthur?" she said, surprised. "You should be asleep."
"I woke up," he replied. "I was just checking."
She smiled—but it wasn't the warm, professional smile she used during the day. It lingered too long. Her tone softened.
"You shouldn't be wandering around alone at night," she said, stepping closer. "This house can feel… empty."
Arthur immediately felt it.
Something was off.
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "I'll go back to my room."
Heather tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle.
"You always push people away," she said calmly. "You know, I worry about you more than anyone else here."
That made his chest tighten.
"I didn't ask you to," he replied.
For a brief second, her smile faltered.
Then she straightened, professionalism snapping back into place.
"Of course," she said. "Go get some rest. I'll make sure everything stays quiet."
Arthur didn't wait for another word.
He turned and walked back to his room, closing the door behind him and locking it this time.
Leaning against it, heart racing, he realized something important:
This house wasn't safe just because it was expensive.
And not everyone who smiled at him had good intentions.
He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
----
The club was loud—bass shaking the floor, lights flashing red and violet like a heartbeat gone wild.
Liam sat back on a leather couch near the edge of the dance floor, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Around him, chaos.
His friends were gone.
One was grinding with a girl near the bar.
Slapping her ass while doing so.
Another was already kissing someone he didn't know the name of.
Someone else was laughing, drunk out of his mind, arms around two girls at once.
Normal night for them.
Not for Liam.
Girls noticed him fast.
He stood out—broad shoulders, muscular build stretching his shirt, sharp jawline with a neat goatee and mustache. Calm. Dangerous-looking. Not desperate.
Beautifully. Handsome
One girl leaned in close, hand brushing his arm.
"Why are you sitting alone, handsome?"
He didn't even look at her.
"Fuck off."
No anger. No raised voice. Just flat.
She blinked, offended, then walked away.
Another tried. Then another.
Same result.
Eventually, word spread: don't bother him.
Liam stayed where he was, eyes drifting across the crowd without really seeing it.
All he could think about was Emma.
Her eyes when she stared straight at danger.
The way she didn't flinch when he stepped close.
Her voice—controlled, sharp, never wasted.
The night she ripped his shirt.
The way she looked at his strength, not impressed… but aware.
He clenched his jaw.
He hated this place.
Hated the noise.
Hated how his friends drowned themselves in bodies and alcohol.
He was only here because they dragged him along.
One of his friends stumbled over, drunk, grinning.
"Brooo—why you not having fun?"
Liam finally looked up.
"I am."
His friend laughed. "You look like you're planning a murder."
Liam looked back toward the dance floor.
"Maybe."
He stood up.
"I'm heading out."
"What? Already?"
Liam grabbed his jacket.
"There's only one girl I care about," he said calmly. "And she's not here."
He walked out of the club, music fading behind him, the cold night air hitting his face.
Emma was somewhere out there.
And whether she liked it or not—
He wasn't planning on letting anything happen to her.
----
Emma closed the book softly.
The last page settled, her thumb lingering there for a second before she let it go.
"…It's time to sleep," she muttered to herself.
She placed the book on her desk, stretched her shoulders, and reached for her phone to set an alarm—
Ring.
She froze.
The screen lit up.
Unknown number.
Emma stared at it for a moment, expression unreadable, then answered.
"Hello."
Silence.
Then a familiar voice, low and calm.
"Check your window."
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
She didn't ask how he got her number.
She didn't panic.
She already knew.
Emma stood, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain aside.
Liam was there.
Standing below, hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at her like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Streetlight cutting shadows across his face.
Emma slid the window open just enough for her voice to pass through.
"What do you want?" she said flatly.
Liam didn't smile.
"I wanted to see you."
There it was.
Simple. Honest. No excuses.
Emma leaned slightly against the window frame, eyes locked on him.
"You break into people's nights for that?"
"I knocked," he replied calmly. "You didn't hear."
She stared at him for a long second.
"…You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
"Then leave."
He didn't move.
Instead, he looked at her properly—really looked at her. Tired eyes. Sharp posture. The way she stood like she was always ready for something to go wrong.
"I won't stay long," he said. "I just needed to know you're okay."
Emma's fingers tightened slightly on the window edge.
"I don't need checking."
"I know," Liam replied. "That's why I'm worried."
Silence fell between them.
A quiet one.
Not awkward.
Not comfortable either.
"…You're reckless," Emma finally said.
"And you're stubborn."
She didn't deny it.
"You should go," she said again, quieter this time.
Liam nodded once.
"Tomorrow," he said, already stepping back, "I'll stay away."
Emma watched him turn, walk a few steps—
Then stop.
He looked back up at her.
"Lock your window."
She did.
But she stayed there long after he disappeared down the street, curtain still in her hand, heartbeat steady—but louder than before.
----
The next morning.
Arthur adjusted his uniform in the mirror, fingers hesitating on the last button.
Behind him, the house was already alive with motion—heels clicking, doors opening, assistants talking schedules.
His parents were getting ready for work, sharp and perfect as always.
"Wait," Arthur said suddenly, stepping into the hallway.
"We already finished the curriculum. I'll go check if school's even running."
His mother glanced at her watch. His father barely looked up.
"Alright," she said. "Be quick."
No hug. No questions.
Arthur grabbed his bag and left.
---
The school gates felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
Classrooms dark. Hallways empty. Notices plastered on the board about optional attendance, teachers' meetings, shortened schedules.
Most students hadn't come.
Arthur blinked.
"…Huh."
Then he saw them.
Emma.
Diana.
Of course.
They were walking through the courtyard like nothing was strange at all.
Diana was talking loudly, arms moving everywhere. Emma walked beside her, calm, hands in her pockets, eyes scanning the area like she always did.
And—
Mostang.
Leaning against a pillar like he owned the place, chewing something, watching random girls pass by with dramatic sighs.
Arthur sighed in relief without realizing it and headed toward them.
---
Inside the classroom, there were barely ten students.
Diana dropped into her seat dramatically.
"So let me get this straight," she said loudly, "everyone decided to skip except US?"
Emma sat down smoothly.
"They didn't check."
Diana grinned. "Skill issue."
Mostang spun his chair around.
"I came for the atmosphere," he said seriously. "This classroom needs me."
No one reacted.
Arthur walked in last, hesitating near the door.
Emma glanced up.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Arthur looked away immediately, heart jumping, and sat a few seats behind her.
Diana noticed instantly.
"Oh?" she said, turning halfway around. "You came even though everyone's absent?"
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to check."
Mostang gasped.
"A responsible rich boy? Impossible."
Arthur ignored him.
The room settled into an awkward quiet.
No teacher yet.
Sunlight spilled through the windows.
Emma stared forward, resting her chin lightly on her hand.
Diana leaned closer to her and whispered, loud enough for Arthur to hear:
"You see? Even when school is basically dead, people still come for you."
Emma didn't react.
"…Sit straight," she muttered.
Arthur swallowed and stared at his desk, pretending his heart wasn't beating way too fast.
Outside, the school felt empty.
----
The classroom door slid open.
The principal stepped in, adjusting his glasses, looking mildly tired.
"Alright," he said. "You can all go home. There's no teaching today. Exams will be next year—after a few weeks. Use this time wisely."
That was it.
No lecture.
No warnings.
Freedom.
Chairs scraped back instantly.
Diana shot up first.
"LET'S GOOOO—"
Emma stood calmly, already packing her bag.
Mostang stretched like he'd worked all day.
"Another successful academic contribution by me."
Arthur stood too—heart racing.
This is it, he thought.
He took a step toward Emma.
"E-Emma—"
Before he could finish—
BEEEEEEP.
A loud, clean car horn echoed from outside the school gates.
Arthur froze.
Diana leaned toward the window.
"…That sounds expensive."
Emma glanced outside.
A sleek black car was parked right in front of the gates.
And leaning against it—
Heather.
Tall. Confident. Perfect posture. Sunglasses.
She looked completely out of place next to a public school.
She lifted her phone, eyes already locked on Arthur.
Arthur's stomach dropped.
"…Oh."
Mostang whistled.
"DAMN. Who's the model?"
Diana squinted.
"Why is she staring at him?"
Arthur swallowed hard.
Heather tapped the car lightly, then gestured with her head—
Now.
Arthur turned back to Emma, panicked.
"I— I was going to ask—"
Heather honked again. Short. Sharp.
Arthur flinched.
"My parents… they told her," he said quickly.
"The principal called them. There's no teaching, so—"
He stopped.
Emma was already slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Her expression was neutral. Calm. Unbothered.
"Oh," she said. "Okay."
That was it.
No disappointment.
No hesitation.
Diana noticed—and frowned slightly.
Arthur forced a small smile.
"…Maybe another time."
Emma nodded once.
"Yeah."
Simple.
Arthur turned and walked out.
---
Outside, Heather straightened immediately when she saw him.
"There you are," she said warmly. "I was worried you'd miss me."
She opened the passenger door for him herself.
Arthur hesitated one last time and glanced back.
Emma and Diana were exiting the building together.
Diana was talking again, animated as ever.
Emma walked beside her, hands in her pockets, eyes forward.
She didn't look back.
Arthur got into the car.
Heather closed the door gently, then leaned in through the open window.
"You don't need to come to school if there's no teaching," she said softly.
"I'll take care of you today."
The engine started.
As the car pulled away, Arthur watched the school disappear behind them.
Heather glanced at him from the driver's seat, smiling.
"You look distracted," she said.
"Did something happen?"
Arthur looked down at his hands.
"…Nothing."
Outside the window—
Emma kept walking.
Unaware.
Unbothered.
---
Emma was walking alone after diana left, when in a sudden Liam appeared beside her—quiet, like he'd always been there.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Emma stopped.
Turned.
"What."
Liam's expression wasn't playful. Not teasing.
It was sharp. Serious.
"Vex is ready to kill," he said. "Anyone you love."
Emma didn't blink.
"Your mother," Liam continued. "And… maybe Arthur."
Silence.
Emma's face stayed calm—cold, unreadable.
But inside, something clicked.
She understood immediately.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't a threat.
It was pressure.
Liam watched her closely. "He wants a reaction. He wants you to move."
Emma nodded once.
"I know."
She turned and walked away.
Liam didn't follow this time.
---
Emma went straight home.
Asuka was in the kitchen, humming softly, wiping the counter.
Emma paused for a second—just a second—watching her.
Then she went to her room.
She changed.
No skirt.
No school uniform.
Simple clothes. Neutral. Easy to move in.
She tied her hair back.
Checked her phone.
Then she left the house quietly.
---
Arthur's house was… different.
Big gates. Security cameras. Perfect lawn.
Too clean.
Emma stood in front of it for a moment.
Rich. Protected. But not untouchable.
She stepped forward and pressed the bell.
Ding.
Nothing.
She pressed it again.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
Heather stood there.
She blinked in surprise.
"…You're Emma."
Emma nodded. "Arthur's here?"
Heather smiled—polite, sharp, curious.
"He is. Come in."
Emma stepped inside.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Heather glanced at her outfit, then back to her eyes.
"You're not here for schoolwork, are you?"
"No," Emma said calmly.
Heather's smile widened slightly.
"I figured."
She turned and called out,
"Arthur? You have a guest."
Footsteps from upstairs.
Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs—and froze.
"Emma?"
She looked up at him.
Her expression was still calm.
Still controlled.
But this time, her eyes were serious.
"Arthur," she said.
"We need to talk."
Arthur stood there, confused, still processing why she was even here.
Emma turned to face him.
Her eyes were cold. Sharper than he'd ever seen.
"I hate you."
The words landed hard.
Arthur froze.
"…What?" His voice cracked before he could stop it. "Emma, what are you talking about?"
She didn't look away.
She couldn't afford to.
"I hate you," she repeated, flat. "You're annoying. You follow me. You stare. You think a sandwich means something."
Arthur took a step forward. "That's not— Emma, if I did something wrong, just tell me. We can talk it out."
"Don't."
Her voice cut through him like a blade.
"Just don't," she said again, quieter—but heavier.
Arthur opened his mouth anyway. "You don't mean this. Yesterday you—"
Emma's hand clenched at her side.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear.
"Go away," she said. "And don't talk to me again."
Arthur stared at her, searching her face for anything familiar.
Nothing.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Did I scare you? Did someone say something to you?"
Emma's jaw tightened.
If he kept talking, he'd get closer.
If he stayed close, Vex would notice.
She couldn't allow that.
"I don't want you near me," she said, harsher now. "You're weak. You wouldn't survive my world."
That one hurt.
Arthur flinched.
Heather, watching from the hallway, sensed the shift. She stepped forward slightly, but Arthur lifted a hand—stopping her.
He looked back at Emma.
"…I really loved you," he said softly.
Emma didn't respond.
She couldn't.
After a long moment, Arthur nodded once—slow, defeated.
"Okay," he said. "I'll go."
He turned and walked up the stairs.
Each step felt louder than the last.
Emma didn't look back.
The front door closed behind her minutes later.
Only when she was outside—only when the gate shut—did she finally stop.
Her breath trembled.
Her hand pressed briefly against her chest.
"…Good," she whispered to herself.
Because now—
Arthur was farther from her.
And farther from Vex.
Which meant he was safer.
Even if it meant she had to be the villain.
Chapter end