The classroom was lively.
The air buzzed with energy as students filled their seats, chatting among themselves. Books and pens were scattered across desks, and the faint sound of pages flipping could be heard over the low murmurs.
But one seat remained empty.
Liam's seat.
It had been a week since anyone had seen him.
Not that most people cared.
The girls who used to swoon over his face had quickly moved on. For them, Liam was nothing more than a pretty decoration, a beautiful waste of space. His timid nature, his cowardly attitude—it all made him unworthy of the face he had. Some of them even called him a "waste of a face," saying someone else—anyone else—deserved to look like that instead of him.
The guys? They didn't care either. If anything, his absence made things more peaceful. No more annoying jealousy. No more reason to beat him up.
Nobody asked about him.
Nobody except one person.
Dickson.
Liam's best—only—friend.
For the past week, Dickson had searched everywhere.
Liam's house? Locked.
His favorite spots? Empty.
His usual hideouts? Nothing.
He even went to the police. But as expected, they were no help. Just another missing kid they didn't care about.
Now, sitting by the classroom window, Dickson let out a long sigh. His chin rested on his palm, his fingers drumming against the wooden desk. He wasn't even paying attention to the class.
Most of the other guys, however, were.
And the reason?
Her.
The teacher.
A woman in her late twenties, Miss Amanda.
She wasn't just any teacher—she was the teacher. The kind of woman who made guys suddenly interested in subjects they normally couldn't care less about.
Her long, wavy black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a flawless face with deep brown eyes and full, pouty lips. But what really made every male student in the room struggle to focus was her body.
Curves in all the right places.
A full, voluptuous figure that made it impossible to look away.
And today?
She was wearing a tight, form-fitting blouse that hugged her chest a little too well, paired with a black pencil skirt that accentuated her wide hips. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.
With every step she took, the heels of her shoes clicked against the floor, demanding attention.
It was almost hypnotic.
The entire room was locked onto her.
All except one person.
Kyle.
He wasn't paying attention.
His mind was somewhere else.
His eyes kept flickering back to the empty seat behind him.
Liam's seat.
It had been too long since he last saw Liam, and the guilt was starting to eat away at him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that horrific moment again—Liam, lying in a pool of blood, his body broken, his hand weakly reaching for help.
He should have helped.
He should have done something.
Instead, he had run away like a coward, just like the others.
His hands clenched into fists under his desk. He felt sick just thinking about it.
Was Liam even alive?
Had someone found him?
Was he buried in a ditch somewhere, rotting away while they all sat here, pretending nothing happened?
His stomach twisted at the thought.
And then—
A movement outside caught Dickson's eye.
He turned his head slightly, glancing out the window.
What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.
A figure was walking toward the school, his bag slung lazily over his shoulder. His steps were a little off—unsteady, almost unnatural—but he kept moving forward.
Dickson's eyes widened.
His heart pounded.
A name slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken.
"Liam?"
Every head in the classroom snapped toward him.
And then—toward the door.
The room fell into silence as they watched Liam step inside.
A wave of shock spread through the students.
Murmurs broke out almost instantly.
"Wait... that's Liam?"
"He's back?"
"But look at him..."
Dickson wasn't the only one who noticed something strange.
Liam looked... different.
His body wasn't the same as before.
He was taller.
Broader.
More muscular.
His school uniform, which once fit him loosely, now hugged his frame perfectly, showing the lean, sculpted shape of his chest and arms. His jawline seemed even sharper than before, his eyes carrying a depth that hadn't been there before.
The whispers grew louder.
"Did this bitch get more handsome?"
"For fuck's sake, what is this luck? He disappears for a week and comes back looking even better?"
"Shit! Maybe if my mom hadn't fucked that ugly bastard, I'd have been like him too."
Kyle's mouth went dry as he stared at Liam.
There was something off.
Something about his eyes.
Liam wasn't really looking at them.
He was standing frozen at the door, his gaze locked on something they couldn't see.
A flickering blue light reflected in his pupils, like a digital screen.
His lips parted slightly, a quiet breath escaping him.
And then—
[Mission]
[Grab a butt]
Liam's entire body stiffened.
His eyes widened in pure disbelief.
His fingers twitched slightly as he read the message again, his mind struggling to process what the hell was happening.
He felt his pulse quicken.
His heart slammed against his ribcage.
The room was still buzzing with whispers, but he couldn't hear any of it.
All he could see was that one line.
[Grab a butt]
His lips moved on their own.
"...What the fuck."
****
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