Liam stepped back into the hallway, the low hum of student chatter already rising as lunch break neared its end. He checked the time—five minutes left. Any moment now, the halls would flood with students returning to their classes.
'Damn it… this really isn't a plan I'm comfortable with.' His thoughts were steady, but his unease simmered beneath the surface.
It wasn't Mystica's plan to trap Gordon that bothered him. It was the uncertainty of his own mind—of it. That voice. That other presence. He still didn't fully understand what it was, only that it stirred when danger approached, taking partial control like a shadow sharing his skin. It hadn't acted since the last incident, but Liam couldn't ignore the pattern. It always emerged at the edge of chaos.
The academy bell rang, piercing his thoughts. Doors swung open, and students began spilling into the halls, laughter and hurried footsteps echoing around him. Liam moved with them, slow and deliberate, blending into the current.
'If I go back to the cafeteria, Gordon's eyes will be on me. He'll assume I'm trying to lose myself in the crowd. That was the bait.'
As he approached the cafeteria doors, they opened—and out walked Charlotte, her eyes locking onto his like a predator catching scent of prey.
"Well, would you look at this pretty charmer," she purred, her hips swaying lazily. "I honestly thought you wouldn't skip returned after you left. But here you are. A man of his word."
"Had to come back," Liam said as he pivoted smoothly beside her. "Otherwise, I figured you'd track me down like I was a meal."
Charlotte giggled, brushing a hand through her curls. "Good thing you know you're a meal… my meal~."
Together, they headed down the hallway toward Tactical Espionage.
As they moved through the packed hallway, Charlotte slid closer, her shoulder brushing against Liam's as if by accident—but they both knew better.
"You know," she murmured, her voice silky and sweet like poisoned honey, "most guys would die for this kind of attention from me. Yet here you are, treating me like background static."
Liam didn't even blink. "That's because you are background static."
Charlotte gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if mortally wounded. "Cold and cruel. Gods, I love that." She leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing his ear. "Careful now… you keep that up and I just might become obsessed."
He gave her a sideways glance, expression flat. "Pretty sure you already are. Which is honestly... exhausting."
She laughed—a deep, sultry sound that made several nearby students glance their way. "Touché. But don't flatter yourself too much, pretty boy. I just enjoy playing with dangerous things."
"You mean like your own emotions? Or your incredibly questionable judgment?" Liam shot back, eyes still scanning their surroundings for signs of Gordon.
Charlotte clicked her tongue, amused. "You're adorable when you pretend to be clever. Makes me want to rip you open just to see what's under that cold, sharp tongue of yours."
'Sometimes I wonder if she's Lady Seraphina's secret daughter,' Liam mused. 'Same chaos, same thirst for blood and affection.'
"I'd love to see you try," he said finally.
She halted mid-step with a theatrical shiver. "Oh no… was that a threat?"
"No," Liam replied, eyes forward. "That would be a waste of effort on someone like you."
For a moment, her smile faltered—not entirely, but enough to let something else flicker behind it. A crack. Something real. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual smirk.
"Damn, Liam. You're seriously growing on me."
Charlotte burst into laughter, this time loud enough to echo off the walls. She bumped her hip into his, playful and persistent, as they neared Seraphina's classroom.
"Come on, tiger. Time to survive another hour of trauma bonding with everyone's favorite seductive psychopath."
But just a few steps from the door, Liam's heart gave a single, violent thump. His body froze.
"You good?" Charlotte asked, a rare flicker of genuine concern lacing her voice.
"Yeah… just need to hit the washroom real quick. Again."
And before she could reply, Liam pivoted and turned down a corridor toward the restrooms.
Charlotte blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Again? Wait…" Her voice dropped to a snicker. "Don't tell me he bailed on the cafeteria just to take a dump…"
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she tried to contain it. "Guess a crappy stomach doesn't care how badass you are."
As Charlotte continued on toward the classroom, Liam subtly picked up his pace, his gaze flicking across the hall, scanning every corner and shadow.
'To make it look real, it must be just like the first time,' he thought, steadying his breathing as he moved with purpose—but not too fast. Just enough to sell the illusion.
Elsewhere, not far behind, Gordon moved swiftly and silently, weaving through the thinning crowd. His eyes were locked on Liam, and his footsteps fell in perfect rhythm with the tension in his muscles.
After losing track of Liam back at the Knight Training Wing, Gordon had considered heading straight to the cafeteria. Logically, it would've been the most crowded, defensible place for Liam to blend into—too obvious. And Liam wasn't stupid.
So Gordon searched other areas of the academy first, trying to anticipate Liam's real move. When that failed, he finally gave in and made his way toward the cafeteria, hoping for a lucky break.
And luck, it seemed, answered.
As the bell rang, Gordon caught a glimpse of him—Liam, alive and well, strolling out as if the world wasn't hunting him. The sight sparked a deep, simmering rage inside Gordon. He wanted to strike right then and there, to erase the smug look from Liam's face for making him waste time and energy.
But he couldn't—not with dozens of students flooding the hallway. Not yet.
So he waited, stalking from a distance, watching Liam closely. He needed him to break away from the crowd, even for a second.
And then it happened.
Liam veered into a quiet, nearly abandoned corridor.
'Thank you, Lady Luck,' Gordon thought with a twisted grin, his body coiling like a spring. He followed immediately, his steps silent, his focus unblinking—like a starving predator who'd finally cornered his prey.
Liam took another sharp turn, this time entering a corridor that was completely deserted. The moment Gordon rounded the same corner and saw Liam's pace quicken, he didn't hesitate.
Lightning surged through his limbs—amplified by the demonic blood thrumming in his veins—and in a blink, he shot forward like a bolt.
Before Liam could fully react, Gordon's hand clamped around his neck and slammed him hard into the wall, lifting him a few inches off the ground. The impact rattled the corridor.
Liam had anticipated the ambush. He hadn't expected to counter it—only to endure it until the real trap was sprung.
"I've finally got my damn hands on you, you miserable little freak," Gordon growled, his face twisted with rage. "I'm going to kill you slowly, and enjoy every second of it. You've made my day more exhausting than the last five years combined."
His grip tightened as his right hand began to change—morphing into a hardened, bark-like form laced with jagged rock, pulsing with corrupted myst.
"Any last words?" he sneered, the grotesque arm lifting Liam higher.
'Did he seriously just transform? Completely unnecessary...' Liam thought, nose wrinkling as the overwhelming stench of corrupted Myst flooded his senses. 'Now I have to deal with this awful smell.'
"Y–You're... as s–stupid as Mystica said," Liam choked out, his voice strained under the crushing grip.
Gordon froze. "What? Mystica?" he muttered, unease creeping into his tone. His eyes darted nervously around the corridor, searching for a presence that wasn't there—yet.
The moment his gaze snapped back to Liam, a chilling voice echoed behind him, cold and smooth like a dagger across stone.
"Spatial Void Domain."
Suddenly, the world shifted.
Darkness swallowed everything. Not just a shadow—but a void, as if existence itself had been ripped open and consumed.
As that happened, Gordon's composure cracked. He blinked rapidly, trying to see—anything. But the void around him was absolute. Even Liam, who had been clutched tightly in his grip just moments ago, had vanished from sight.
Yet he could still feel Liam's throat in his hand.
"Start talking, you little bastard!" Gordon barked, his voice echoing strangely through the abyss. "What the hell did you do? Say something before I snap your damn neck!"
A voice, honeyed and laced with danger, drifted through the black. "How many versions of you can one man be?"
Gordon froze. The voice wasn't Liam's. It was smooth. Feminine. Playful. And far too close.
"Who's there?" he snapped. "Show yourself! No—get me the hell out of here or I swear I'll crush the kid's throat!"
A soft chuckle echoed in reply. "Pfft... You really are a riot, Gordon Rvack. Absolutely hilarious."
The next instant, he felt warm breath against the side of his neck—chilling him far worse than the darkness.
"Whose neck were you planning to snap, exactly?" the voice whispered, amused.
In that instant, the sensation of Liam's neck vanished from Gordon's grasp—gone, as if the boy had evaporated into thin air.
"What the—?!" Gordon stumbled back, disoriented. "What is this?!"
Then came laughter—silky, rich, and brimming with menace.
"Mm~, welcome to my domain, sweetie," Seraphina purred from everywhere and nowhere at once.