Zero had stormed out of the house, his steps urgent, almost frantic. He didn't stop—didn't evenlook back. Tears streaked down his face, hot against the evening wind. A sharp, unbearable painthrobbed in his chest—a kind of pain that came from loneliness, the ache of knowing that hemight never be able to face Sam again. What he had done today… it shattered everything. After this, how could Samever forgive him?The thought alone was suffocating. Zero had once believed he could hide the truth from Sam forever. Bury it beneath jokes, distractions, half-truths. But now... after today... he couldn't even bear to imagine what Sammust
be thinking. How much he must hate him. He walked briskly along the edge of the street, as if trying to outrun himself. There wasn't eventime to cry properly—he had too many things to prepare. Once home, he packed with precision—clothes, notebooks, and whatever essentials he might
need. Then he emailed an urgent leave application to the university, grabbed his gun, andsteppedout again. On the way to the airport, he checked the time: an hour left until the flight. His stomach
twisted—he hadn't eaten anything since morning. Without thinking, his feet turned towardthelittle ramen shop he and Sam used to frequent. Their favorite. He sat down quietly and ordered a bowl. Soon, the waiter brought over steaming ramen, andasthe scent reached him, hunger finally caught up. He devoured it quickly, but as he stood toleave, the waiter stopped him. "Sir, the bill, please…" Zero paused. The words were about to escape his lips—"He'll pay…"—but then it hit him. Hewas alone this time. Sam wasn't here. Sam had always paid. Always. Zero swallowed hard, said nothing, and took out his wallet. He paid and walked out. He couldn't
even remember the last time he'd used that wallet. Sam's words echoed in his mind: "Seriously, Zero, what will you do without me?" A broken smile curved on Zero's lips as he whispered to himself, "See, Sam? You're not herenow… Let's see what becomes of me."
And with that, he walked toward the airport, the weight of everything pressing down on his backlike an invisible storm. ______________________________________________________________>>>
Sam was still sitting exactly where Zero had left him—frozen, unmoving. His mind refusedtobelieve what had happened. Tears slipped quietly down his cheeks, but there was no sobbing, nosound—just a hollow gaze fixed on the wall ahead. The room hadn't changed. Books still lay scattered. The heater buzzed softly by the corner. Ahalf-eaten cup of noodles sat untouched. That thick book Zero had thrown at himwas still lyingon the floor where it had landed. Everything was as it was. Everything, except Zero was no longer there. Sam's chest felt empty. As if something vital had been torn away. "When did I stop being Sam… and become Samael for him?" he whispered to himself, the nametasting foreign and intimate all at once. His mind reeled back to memory after memory:
Zero blushing when he saw him shirtless.Zero quietly giving in during arguments.Zero saying"I
love you" at the university steps.Zero kissing him while he slept.The way he touched him.Theway he held him.The way he let Sam rest on top of him as if he were home. All of it—every little gesture—felt different now. He had missed the signs. But now…nowit
was all clear. For the past two months, Zero had been changing. And Sam…he hadn't daredseeit. He didn't want to think any further. His head ached now. He buried his face in his hands andlet
out a frustrated cry: "God, Zero… What the hell have you done?!" Trying to clear his thoughts, Sam stood up and began tidying the room. He put on a live musicbroadcast on his phone to distract himself. A slow, melancholic tune filled the room: "In the silence of winter nights…You leave me alone... You make me regret...I never thought
of you... more than friends...But can you be mine…Can you love me more than I hate
myself…Can you say 'I'm fine'…Whenever I kiss you on your lips…Ooh, my love…I loveyou…Let me love you…Let me hold you, my love…" Sam paused mid-cleaning. The lyrics hit too close. His head throbbed harder. He opened a
drawer, took out a painkiller, and swallowed it with water.
He gave up cleaning, collapsed on the couch, and stared at the ceiling as the song continuedtoplay. The room was still a mess—except for the cup of noodles he had moved four times, unableto decide where they belonged. The music lingered in the air, soft and sorrowful. "'Cause you are mine…My love…" Eventually, the exhaustion won over. Whether it was the song's lulling melody or the weight of
everything finally pressing him down, Sam drifted into sleep, the broken lyrics fading intothesilence of the room. __________________________________________________________________>>>>Sara visited Alexa at the hospital after many days. She had asked her several questions while sitting beside the unconscious girl on the hospital bed. Alexa couldn't answer—her eyes remained closed—but the doctors had assured her that her
condition was improving. By the time Sara left the hospital, it was already late. The route back to the dormitory was long, and at this hour, no cabs were in sight. With a heavy sigh, she decided to trust her legs andbeganwalking briskly along the quiet roadside. It was winter. Most people were already tucked away in their warm beds. The streets were
desolate, and not a single car passed by. Cold wind bit against her skin, but her mind was
preoccupied with something else entirely—if she reached the dorm too late, she'd have tospendthe entire night outside, shivering in the cold. Lost in thought, she didn't notice the sudden glare of headlights until three motorcycles
screeched to a halt right in front of her. Her steps froze. A group of seven or eight men dismounted—tattoos lined their arms, the way they movedmadeit clear: they were a gang. "Well, well… where are you going, little princess?" one of them grinned, licking his lips. "Needcompany? You must be scared walking alone at night." Sara stepped back instinctively, her heart pounding. She had never been in a situation like thisbefore. One of them grabbed her arm roughly. "Bro, check out her figure—total hourglass," the guy laughed wickedly. Another one moved closer, brushing a hand across her neck. "Damn, she's soft."
Sara jerked his hand away, her panic rising. But then another one laughed darkly, steppingforward. "Not very obedient, are you?" he snarled. "Let's remind her of her place. Boys, grab her. Let's
teach her a lesson she won't forget." He shoved her hard—she stumbled and hit the wall behind her. Those words echoed in her skull: "Let's remind her of her place." Her fists clenched. A heat surged inside her—a storm of rage. Remind me of my place?Her jaw tightened. In a low, strange voice, she growled, "You'll show me my place, huh, bastard?" Her head hung low, her voice suddenly no longer hers—deep, unnatural. Inside her mind, voicesclashed. "Who are you?" Sara whispered internally. "Why are you taking over?"Let me protect you, the voice replied. It's my turn now, Cherry. She raised her head. Blood was trickling from her eyes. The boys stopped. Shocked. "The hell… is she crying blood?"
"Quit the act," one of them barked and lunged forward. "Let's just—" Before he could finish, Sara's hand shot out. She grabbed his wrist—and twisted. A sickening crack. He screamed. Another charged at her with a baseball bat. She kicked him in the chest with deadly force, thenlanded a clean punch to his face. He dropped like a ragdoll. The others hesitated, stunned by the brutality. Two more rushed in—she took themdownswiftly, every move precise, merciless. Now, only three were left. They turned to flee. But she wasn't done. She caught up to one, who fell to his knees, sobbing. "P-p-please, let us go. Who…who areyou?Please…"
"I'm Lyall," she whispered, her lips curled into a crooked smile. "I'm your death." And then she laughed. Madly. Uncontrollably. From her coat, she pulled out a knife. "No… no please… please—" She grabbed one boy by the jaw. His eyes widened in horror. "No mercy. I'm not made for that." With chilling joy, she whispered, "Scream. Scream louder. Your cries excite me." And then she sliced off his tongue. The boy shrieked, collapsing in agony. The others scattered, but she caught another. "Where do you think you're going?" she hissed. "I don't let my prey escape." She bit into his fingers—tearing them off one by one. His blood poured like a broken faucet. The others fled, screaming into the night. Lyall licked the blood from her knife. "Mmm… not bad," she muttered. "A little sweet." The boy fainted. She stood over him. "Hey, don't forget your fingers," she said sarcastically and kicked him. When he didn't respond, she shrugged. "Fine. I'll keep them." With that, she turned and calmly walked away, heading toward the dormitory as if nothinghadhappened. By the time she reached the dorm, everyone was already asleep. She climbed the gate and entered quietly, the knife still in her hand, blood soaking her sleeves. As she stepped into her room, her eyes landed on the books resting neatly on the bed. Something shifted. She froze. Her knees buckled—and she collapsed to the floor. Her head lowered. She was shaking now, the rage gone. The laughter gone. She wasn't Lyall anymore.
She was Sara again. Tears poured down her face as she rushed into the washroom. Her mouth still tasted like blood. Her clothes reeked of it. She scrubbed her face again and again, yanked off her hoodie, gasping for air. Then she lookedup—into the mirror. She was crying. But the girl in the mirror?
The girl in the mirror was smiling. "Why are you crying, Sara?" the reflection asked sweetly. "I protected you. I taught thema
lesson." Sara stared in horror. "Who… who are you?"
"I'm you, Sara. I'm inside you. We're the same."
"No…" Sara sobbed. "We're not the same. You're a monster." The girl smirked. "Fine, fine. Hello, Miss Sara. I'm the monster. You can call me Lyall." Sara's eyes widened. "Lyall… you're… But that's just my stage name—my singing
pseudonym—"
"That I gave you," Lyall interrupted. "Don't you remember? I created it for you. Because we'reone, Sara. We've always been one."
"No!" Sara shouted. "We're not one! I'm not a killer. I'm not like you!" Lyall only laughed, louder this time. Sara stumbled back, panic flooding her body. She grabbed a glass figurine and hurled it at themirror. Shattering. Glass exploded everywhere. Sara's reflection fractured into a thousand pieces. But the voices didn't stop.
"We are one, Sara… You and I… one…"
"No… no… no!" she screamed, clutching her head. She fell to the ground, shaking violently, until everything went dark. A while later…
Sara's eyes snapped open. There was a strange gleam in them. Her face wore a smile—not hers. Still lying on the bathroom floor, she looked up at the ceiling and whispered in a voice that wasno longer her own—
"Ha… Sara, you're such a coward. Keeping you under control is going to be fun…" TO BE CONTINEUD....