Ken sat through most of the lesson like a statue.
Mr. Berlin's voice was muffled, like it was underwater. The whiteboard was filled with notes that looked more like scribbles, meaningless symbols written by someone trying to distract from the truth. The truth that none of this really mattered. Not the equations. Not the charts. Not the carefully orchestrated seating arrangements.
This class wasn't about learning.
It was about watching.
Ken felt it in the way Berlin's eyes swept the room every five minutes, like a hawk circling prey. Felt it in the way the cameras mounted in each corner shifted subtly with movement, following them all like shadows.
Misty, still smiling, was doodling on her notebook. She wasn't really paying attention either.
Her fingers moved in smooth strokes, drawing what looked like... a tree. But not a normal one. The roots were shaped like hands reaching up from the ground. And the trunk? It had an eye.
Ken blinked. Before he could look closer, Misty caught him staring and quickly closed her notebook.
"Nosy," she whispered, but her voice wasn't teasing. It was... tired.
Ken opened his mouth to respond, but the classroom door creaked open.
Everyone froze.
A girl stepped inside. She was tall, with dark violet braids that cascaded down her back. Her uniform was pristine, pressed to perfection—but something about her face was off. Too symmetrical. Her smile stretched too wide.
"Students," Mr. Berlin announced, "please welcome a transfer from Section A—this is Ravyn."
Section A.
The highest of the highest. Government-trained. Future leaders of the "Perfect World."
Misty stiffened in her seat.
Ken felt the shift instantly. The energy in the room dropped like a blade.
Ravyn's eyes scanned the room like a barcode scanner. Sharp. Cold. Unblinking.
Her gaze landed on Ken.
Then Misty.
Then Crow.
She smiled again. "I look forward to working with all of you."
Berlin motioned to the seat in the back, near Misty.
Ken caught Misty's face twitch. Her fingers gripped her pencil so hard it snapped.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
Nobody ever did.
After class, Ken walked faster than usual. Misty was trying to catch up, but he didn't slow down.
"Hey, wait! Ken!" she called.
He stopped at the end of the hallway, beside one of the school's white-paneled walls. The "peace walls," they called them. Pure white, no flaws.
Ken stared at it.
There were cracks in the corner.
Tiny ones.
Misty finally caught up, breathless.
"Are you okay?" she asked, worried.
Ken looked at the wall. Then at her.
"Who is Ravyn?" he asked.
Misty looked away.
"That girl... she's not like us."
Ken didn't reply. But he didn't have to.
They both knew it.
Ravyn wasn't here to learn. She was here to watch.
To report.
To control.
In a quiet room lit only by the flicker of an old bulb, Crow stood in front of a screen.
Static fizzled before clearing to reveal a familiar face.
A man with white eyes and a voice like ice.
"Did you make contact?"
Crow hesitated. "She pushed me away. Hard."
"Push back harder," the man said. "We need her close. You know what will happen if she remembers everything."
Crow's throat tightened. "I know."
The screen cut to black.
Crow clenched his jaw.
In the girl's bathroom, Misty stood in front of the mirror again.
She stared at herself—at the girl she didn't recognize.
Behind her, in the stall, something beeped.
She opened the door.
Inside was a small black box.
No label.
Just a blinking red light.
Misty touched it.
And it began to speak.
"Hello, Misty."
"Do you remember who you really are?"
"They've been lying to you."
"All of them."
"Even him."