The music room was supposed to be soundproof.
But tonight, the notes leaked through the cracks — jagged, uneven, like a heart trying to beat through broken ribs.
Aika's fingers slammed the piano keys again.
Wrong note. Wrong rhythm.
Her shoulders trembled.
Mio stood by the door, hesitant.
Sora leaned against the wall, watching silently.
Aika hit the final note — a C sharp — and let her hands fall into her lap.
"She taught me to play this piece," Aika whispered.
"Moonlit Prayer in G Minor."
"The night before she kissed me."
Flashback – 9 months ago.
Winter. Aika had stayed late for extra lessons. The corridors were dead silent — the kind of silence that made clocks sound like bombs.
Reika-sensei had smiled.
Said she saw "potential."
Touched her wrist while adjusting her posture at the keys.
Let her hand linger too long.
"She said… I looked like someone she used to know. Someone she lost."
Aika's voice cracked.
"She told me... she never wanted to hurt me. That she just wanted to feel needed."
Mio couldn't speak. Her lips were parted, but no words came.
Sora, however, moved forward.
"Did she threaten you?" she asked, voice flat.
Aika nodded once.
"She said if I told anyone, I'd be labeled unstable. A manipulator. 'Too intense.' That I'd never get into Juilliard if this went on my file."
Sora stepped back, pacing.
"She preys on the ones with fire," she muttered. "Not the weak ones — the bright ones. The ones with spark. And she douses them. Makes them question their own glow."
"I thought I was crazy," Aika admitted. "But then I saw her watching you two. I knew I wasn't the only one anymore."
Mio sat on the edge of the piano bench.
"So what do we do?"
Aika smiled, tired but sharp. "We play her game. But on our terms."
📅 Next Day – Lunch Hour
Plan A: The Tuning Trap
They left an anonymous request for "urgent tuning" on the music room's piano. Signed as from a guest judge for the upcoming cultural festival.
The idea?
Lure Reika-sensei in. Bug the room. Record everything.
Simple.
Except...
At 12:40 p.m., Reika entered the room with a soft knock — and didn't look alone.
She was followed by a young man in technician overalls.
Sora, watching from the AV room with Mio and Aika via hidden cam, leaned forward.
"Who the hell is that?"
Mio zoomed in.
A clipboard. Headphones. Small laptop. USB mics.
"Wait," she said. "He's not a piano tuner."
Aika's eyes widened. "That's not a stranger. That's her nephew. Tatsuya-senpai. He graduated two years ago."
"And he's setting up something," Mio said. "Sh*t. They're onto us."
The feed cut.
Screen: "NO SIGNAL."
A chill crawled down their backs.
"She's flipping it on us," Sora muttered.
"We've been made," Aika whispered.
🏫 Later That Evening
Mio stared at the school's event board. A new notice had gone up.
> Advanced Performing Arts Lecture
Guest Session: Reika Aoyama, "Emotional Influence Through Sound."
Attendance Mandatory (Class 11–12)
"Sh*t," Mio said under her breath.
That was them.
Back in Dorm Room
Mio sketched again.
Not art this time. A layout. The room. Seating. Speakers. Lighting.
Where Reika might walk. Where she'd stand.
Suddenly, her phone pinged.
> Unknown ID: "Nice sketches. I always loved your lines. —R"
Her blood ran cold.
She stared at the message.
The sketch hadn't been posted.
It was on her desk.
Reika had been in her room.
Midnight Emergency Meet – Girls Only
The three sat under Mio's blanket, flashlight on, eyes wide with dread.
"We need to expose her," Mio said. "Not just for us — for everyone she's groomed before."
"But she's smart," Aika warned. "She'll make us look like jealous girls with daddy issues."
"We don't need proof anymore," Sora said suddenly.
They turned to her.
"We need power."
Operation "Truth & Tremble" — Their New Plan:
1. Hijack the live mic during Reika's lecture.
2. Play her own words — twisted, real, threatening — edited over dramatic piano music.
3. Make her unravel on stage.
"Like reverse gaslighting," Sora grinned.
Aika nodded. "Emotional theatre. I like it."
📅 The Next Day — Lecture Hall
Rows of students.
Dim lights.
Piano set. Microphones live.
Reika stepped up to the podium in a navy-blue silk blouse and a faint smile.
"Emotion," she said, "is not what you feel. It's what you control."
Behind the curtain, Mio clutched the switch.
Sora held the USB.
"Now," Sora whispered.
Mio clicked it.
The speakers crackled. Then:
> Reika's own voice:
"She acts like she doesn't need anyone, but she craves attention like a stray cat. Pathetic."
Murmurs across the hall.
Then another:
> "I don't hurt them. I inspire them. Intimacy is a form of education."
Gasps.
Reika stepped back. "Stop that. This isn't—"
Another voice clip:
> "If you ever tell anyone, your career is over. Remember that."
Silence. Then someone clapped.
Then another.
A wave.
The crowd believed it.
Reika trembled.
Just before security came up, Aika stepped into the light, lifted the mic.
"Art," she said softly, "is the most dangerous weapon. Thank you for your lecture, Reika-sensei."
Drop. Mic.
📆 Epilogue Scene – That Night
Sora and Mio sat on the dorm rooftop again.
Same stars. Same air. Different energy.
"She's on indefinite leave," Sora said.
"And the academy started an investigation," Mio added.
They both sat in silence for a while.
Then Sora turned, looking directly into Mio's eyes.
"You know," she said, voice softer than ever, "when I asked you to come that night… I didn't think you would."
"I always will," Mio replied.
Sora leaned in.
This time — no shadows.
No trauma.
Just warmth.
A gentle kiss. Not stolen. Not forced.
Earned.
And the rooftop wind finally felt like a lullaby.