The studio was flooded with sunlight, the windows flung wide to welcome in the last breeze of spring. The final sculpture exam for the year had begun, and each student stood by their workstation, surrounded by tools and clay, lost in their own creative battles. Ash and Leo shared a table near the back, while Nox had claimed the table by the far window, as usual. He was already in his apron, mask in place, sleeves rolled, hands working the clay with unrelenting focus.
Ash glanced over at Nox for a moment, nudging Leo with an elbow. "He was already here when I woke up. Again. Does he ever sleep?"
Leo looked up from his own slab of clay and followed Ash's gaze. Nox's movements were methodical, almost mechanical, as if sculpting wasn't an exam but a ritual. "I don't think he does," Leo muttered. He hesitated for a second. "But the burner was still warm when I woke up, so he probably had breakfast."
Ash sighed. "He left sandwiches again. Same kind we like. He's thoughtful for someone who never speaks unless it's lecture-related."
"Yeah," Leo agreed, his fingers kneading into the soft clay. "He watches. Learns. Doesn't ask."
Ash leaned in closer. "I'm sculpting a city melting into the sea. Like the weight of expectations crushing the skyline. What about you?"
"A boy under water, but he's looking up at the light." Leo glanced at his sketchbook. "Like he's choosing to swim up. Or at least thinking about it."
Ash blinked. "That's deep. Symbolic much?"
Leo smirked faintly. "Yours isn't exactly subtle either."
Ash chuckled. "I like hiding meaning in chaos. Makes people think."
Nox's voice cut across the table suddenly, sharp and clear. "Use more structure in the base if you're planning to arc that spire. Otherwise, it'll collapse under the glaze."
Ash turned, startled. "You—thanks. I didn't think you were listening."
Nox didn't respond. His hands moved like machines, building something that none of them could yet comprehend. His sculpture looked like a fractured angel wing rising from a mass of thorns. Violent and beautiful.
Lunch passed with quiet energy. Students filtered out to the courtyard or stayed to keep working. Ash and Leo stayed behind, wiping sweat from their brows and taking long sips of water.
"He's a mystery, huh?" Ash said, motioning his bottle toward Nox, who hadn't left his post.
Leo's gaze lingered. "Maybe that's the point. Some people aren't made to be figured out."
Before Ash could respond, Leo's phone buzzed. He stepped out, away from the room, answering with a low voice. His father's voice was sharp on the other end.
"The hit was confirmed. Clean shot. No trace. Our men found no evidence—like he vanished."
Leo's brows furrowed. "And you're calling me because you think it's my doing?"
"I'm calling you because this was surgical. Professional. Like someone with resources."
Leo's eyes flicked toward the window, where Nox stood like a statue himself, lost in the folds of clay. "Not me," he said simply.
"Then keep your eyes open. Someone's watching your back. I want to know who."
The line went dead.
Leo returned to his desk with a furrowed brow, glancing once more at Nox. There was a calmness in the way Nox worked, as if he were sculpting the world back into balance. Leo didn't say anything, but his mind was racing, but his logic told him it couldn't be nox.
Night fell over campus like a velvet curtain. Ash was sprawled on his bed, controller in hand, defeating some demon boss on the TV. His laughter filled the dorm room.
Leo, shirtless and toweling off his damp hair, looked up. "You're loud."
"You're grumpy," Ash shot back. "Come play."
"I'm not dying to pixelated monsters tonight, thanks."
"Lame." Ash grinned. "Hey, do you think Nox likes us?"
Leo blinked. "What?"
"Like, he doesn't hate us, right? He answers our questions. He left us coffee last week."
Leo chuckled softly. "I think... he tolerates us. That's probably the only thing we'll get."
Ash turned the volume down. "I think he's got a good soul. Even if he's wrapped it in barbed wire."
Leo didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on Nox's empty bed. "Maybe."
Nox was on the roof, shirt off, muscles taut as he moved through a brutal set of exercises. His limbs felt heavier than usual, even after hours of rest. Four sleepless nights had dulled him. Weakness. It made his jaw clench.
He lit a cigarette after, smoke curling around his mask as he stared at the moon.
Below, students laughed in their rooms. He checked his watch.
Time for work.
He slipped underground with practiced ease, vanishing into the old maintenance tunnels until he reached the hidden vault. His arsenal—neatly stored, polished, locked.
He opened a terminal in the corner, tapping into encrypted files, scrolling through bounties, blacklists, and assignments.
Then, the report: "Politician X - status: eliminated. No trace."
His fingers hovered. That mission had been clean. Perfect.
He cracked his neck. Weakness was unacceptable. His exhaustion would not be his downfall. He had to be sharper.
He returned to the dorm just past 2 a.m. The room was dark except for the faint screen glow on Ash's side. Controller still in hand, he'd fallen asleep mid-battle.
Leo, curled under his blanket, stirred slightly but didn't wake.
Nox stood still for a moment, staring at them. Two people wrapped in a mundane world he would never have ,but read all about. He turned to his bed, silent as the shadows, and lay down, one arm draped over his chest.
The night whispered secrets, but for once, he didn't listen.
He slept.
Just for an hour.
End on chapter 30