Ling turned.
One look. Something colder. Mira's smirk died instantly.
Ling walked up to her, stopping close enough that Mira had to tilt her head back to meet her eyes.
"You speak," Ling said quietly, "when I permit it."
Mira swallowed. "I was just saying—"
Ling leaned in slightly. "You were just enjoying it."
Mira's face flushed. "Ling, I—"
Ling straightened, cutting her off. "Another word," she said evenly, "and you'll learn what it feels like to be on the other side of a rule you thought protected you."
Rina let out a slow breath. The surrounding students were pale now.
Ling turned back to the mess.
"Clean this," she ordered the corridor at large. "Now."
No one moved.
Ling's eyes lifted again.
"I won't repeat myself."
Students scrambled. Someone ran for cleaning supplies. Another started wiping the floor desperately, hands shaking.
Rina watched Ling closely. "You okay?"
Ling didn't look at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Rina studied her profile. The clenched jaw. The tight shoulders.
"…They went too far," Rina said carefully.
Ling's fingers curled once, then relaxed.
"That wasn't the point," Ling replied.
Rina frowned. "Then what was?"
Ling finally turned to her.
"To make sure she understood," Ling said flatly, "that the world doesn't soften for anyone."
Rina's eyes narrowed slightly. "And did you need this to prove it?"
Ling didn't answer.
She stepped over the last remaining stain without looking down, adjusting her blazer like the mess had never existed.
As she walked away, students pressed themselves flatter against the walls.
Behind her, the floor was being scrubbed raw.
Rina followed Ling down the corridor, heels clicking faster now, irritation sharpening her voice.
"You put the doll there," Rina said flatly. "You announced the threat without words. You know exactly what that means here."
Ling didn't slow.
"They followed the rule," Rina continued. "So why are you scolding them like they crossed your line?"
Ling stopped abruptly.
Rina nearly collided into her back.
Ling turned slowly, eyes sharp, jaw locked.
"I was angry because they made a mess," Ling said coldly. "This university isn't a slum."
Rina laughed once short, humorless.
"Oh please," she said. "At least lie properly."
Ling's eyes flickered.
Rina stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You don't give a damn about floors. You've walked past worse without blinking."
Ling's nostrils flared. "Watch your tone."
Rina crossed her arms. "No. I won't. Not today."
She tilted her head, studying Ling's face like she was stripping armor layer by layer.
"You marked Rhea," Rina said. "You knew what would happen. And the moment it did, you looked like you wanted to burn the building down."
Ling scoffed. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" Rina shot back. "Then explain why Mira got a death glare for saying what everyone else was thinking."
Ling's voice hardened. "Mira overstepped."
"Exactly," Rina said. "She said it out loud. And that's what pissed you off not the prank. Not the rule."
Ling stepped closer now, invading Rina's space.
"Careful," Ling warned. "You're forgetting who you're talking to."
Rina didn't move.
"No," she said quietly. "You're forgetting who knows you."
Silence stretched.
Ling looked away first.
Rina softened just a fraction. "You wanted her humiliated. Without wanting her hurt."
Ling laughed sharp, bitter.
"Don't flatter her," Ling said. "She's stronger than she pretends."
"That's not an answer," Rina replied. "That's deflection."
Ling turned back to her, eyes cold again.
"She made her choices," Ling said. "This is consequence."
Rina shook her head slowly. "No. This is you punishing yourself through her."
Ling's hand clenched at her side.
"Enough," Ling snapped. "I didn't ask for your analysis."
Rina sighed. "You never do. You just bleed and call it control."
Ling's gaze cut into her. "Say that again."
Rina met it evenly. "You're lying to yourself."
A beat.
Then Ling straightened, mask sliding back into place with practiced precision.
"Clean-up is done," Ling said dismissively. "Class starts in five."
She turned to walk away.
Rina watched her go, voice following her down the hall.
"You can destroy her reputation," Rina said. "You can scare the entire campus."
Ling didn't turn back.
"But don't insult me by pretending this is just about rules."
Ling's steps didn't falter.
Yet when she reached the corner, her hand brushed the wall just once steadying herself before she disappeared from view.
Rina exhaled slowly.
"She's already breaking," Rina murmured to herself. "And she still thinks she's winning."
While bathroom door was locked.
Rhea stood bent over the sink, both hands gripping the cold marble so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Water rushed endlessly from the tap, splashing against the basin, drowning the sound of her breathing uneven, broken.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Hair plastered to her face.
Mascara streaked.
Skin flushed red from scrubbing too hard.
She turned the tap off suddenly.
Silence slammed into her ears.
A tear slid down her cheek.
Then another.
She laughed short, bitter, hollow.
"How can I go out like this," she whispered to herself, voice cracking. "How?"
Her dress clung to her body, soaked through, fabric heavy and uncomfortable. Water dripped from the hem onto the tiled floor. She tugged at it angrily, as if pulling harder could erase what had just happened.
She grabbed paper towels, pressing them against her hair, her neck, her chest but it was useless. The wetness stayed. The humiliation stayed.
Her breathing quickened.
"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "No, no, no."
She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand, smearing tears instead of stopping them.
Her mind replayed everything the laughter, the phones, the way people had looked at her like she was entertainment.
And worse —
The doll.
Ling.
Rhea slammed her palm against the mirror.
The sound echoed sharply in the empty bathroom.
"You wanted this," she said to her reflection, voice trembling with fury at Ling, at Kane, at herself. "Didn't you? You wanted to feel nothing. You wanted to be strong."
Her lips quivered.
"Congratulations," she whispered. "This is strength."
Another tear fell. Then more hot, angry tears that burned as they came.
She slid down against the wall slowly, dress pooling around her, knees drawn to her chest. Her wet clothes chilled her skin, but she didn't move. She hugged herself tightly, nails digging into her arms like an anchor.
"I hate you," she whispered not knowing who she meant anymore.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She ignored it.
Outside, footsteps passed. Laughter drifted faintly through the door.
Rhea pressed her forehead against her knees.
"I won't cry," she murmured stubbornly, even as tears soaked into the fabric. "I won't give her that."
But her shoulders shook anyway.
Water couldn't wash away what had been done.
And Rhea Nior proud, sharp, unyielding sat alone on a bathroom floor, soaked, furious, humiliated, realizing that this war had crossed a line where survival itself was starting to hurt.
And she still had to walk back out. The bathroom door creaked open softly.
Rhea didn't look up.
Zifa slipped inside and locked the door behind her.
"I checked," Zifa said quietly.
Rhea's fingers tightened around the fabric at her knees.
"Our lockers," Zifa answered, already knowing the result even before she'd gone. "There's no extra shirt. Nothing."
Silence stretched.
Then Rhea laughed a small, broken sound.
"Of course," she murmured. "Why would there be."
Zifa crouched in front of her, eyes scanning the wet dress, the red-rimmed eyes. Her jaw clenched.
"You can't go out like this," Zifa said firmly. "Your clothes are soaked. People will—"
"I know," Rhea cut in sharply, finally looking up. "You don't have to finish that sentence."
Zifa swallowed. "Then wait here. I'll find something. I don't care if I have to steal from the lost-and-found."
Rhea shook her head immediately. "No."
"Rhea—"
"No," Rhea repeated, stronger now. She pushed herself up slightly, wincing at the cold fabric against her skin. "You should go to class."
Zifa stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes."
Zifa stood abruptly. "I'm not leaving you here like this."
Rhea forced herself to her feet, unsteady but upright. She smoothed her wet dress uselessly, chin lifting — pride reasserting itself like armor.
"You will," Rhea said. "Because if you don't, they'll mark you too."
Zifa's breath hitched. "I don't care."
"I do," Rhea snapped.
Zifa fell silent.
Rhea's voice softened then, exhaustion bleeding through the anger. "Please. Just… go. Sit in class. Act normal."
Zifa shook her head slowly. "This isn't normal."
Rhea gave a bitter smile. "It is for her."
Zifa's hands curled into fists. "I hate this place."
"So do I," Rhea said quietly. "But hating it won't save you."
She stepped closer to Zifa, placing her hands on her shoulders — a rare, grounding touch.
"Go," Rhea said. "If they see you hovering around me, it'll get worse."
Zifa's eyes filled. "And you?"
Rhea looked away.
"I'll figure it out," she lied.
Zifa knew it was a lie.
She hesitated, torn, then nodded reluctantly. "I'll be back. I promise. I'll find something."
Rhea met her eyes again. "Don't rush. Don't get caught."
Zifa stepped back toward the door, then paused.
"Rhea," she said softly.
"Yes?"
"You don't deserve this."
Rhea didn't answer.
Zifa left.
The door clicked shut.
Rhea stood alone again, the bathroom suddenly feeling colder, larger, emptier.
She hugged herself instinctively, teeth chattering slightly — from cold, from fury, from something dangerously close to despair.
"Figure it out," she whispered to herself again.
But as she stared at her reflection soaked, humiliated, marked she realized with a sick twist in her chest.
Then she stepped out of the bathroom because there was no other option left.
The corridor went silent.
Her dress was still clinging to her skin, wet fabric outlining everything she wanted hidden. Her hair dripped slowly onto the floor, each drop sounding louder than it should have. For half a second, no one spoke.
Then whispers started.
Phones came out.
One student laughed under their breath.
Another openly lifted their camera.
"Look at her."
"Is this part of the doll thing?"
"Damn, she looks pathetic."
Rhea walked forward anyway.
Her back was straight. Her face blank. Every step burned, but she refused to slow down.
She told herself she wouldn't cry.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
She felt it before she saw it a sudden shadow falling over her shoulders.
A familiar weight.
A black blazer wrapped around her from behind.
The smell hit her instantly.
Ling.
Gasps rippled through the corridor.