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It all started with a dare.
Off course it did.
And like most dumb decisions in my life, it involved friends, testosterone, and a pretty girl who definitely looked like she had a black belt in breaking hearts—and possibly ribs.
"Bro, I swear," I said, arms folded like I knew what I was doing, "I got game."
"Yeah," said Dimeji, deadpan. "So does my grandma. And she's in a wheelchair."
Laughter. Slaps to the back. Brutal betrayal from my own crew.
That's when she walked past.
Tall. Black hoodie. Skirt too short for school rules. Boots that probably had knives hidden in the soles. She didn't even glance at me—but my brain? Oh, it short-circuited.
"Yo! Juno! There's your chance, Romeo," Malik whispered, eyes wide. "Go talk to her. Bet you won't."
That was all it took. My pride and two energy drinks said yes, even though every survival cell in my body was screaming DON'T.
So what did I do?
I followed her.
---
She headed toward the back building—the forbidden building—the one where all the security cameras mysteriously didn't work.
She stepped into the elevator. Just as the doors began to close, I slid in like a movie star.
Smooth.
Except for the part where I tripped over her foot and faceplanted into the wall.
"...Ow."
She blinked at me. Not in fear. Not in confusion.
Just a slow, calculating blink like she was deciding where to bury my body.
"You're late," she said.
"Huh?"
"You're the new recruit, right?"
My mouth opened. Nothing came out but air and panic.
"Sure!" I said. "That's me. Definitely the... new... kill person?"
She tilted her head. "They sent you?"
"Uh. Yeah?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You're... skinny."
"Built for speed," I said, flexing my nonexistent muscles.
For a second, I thought she'd stab me with her boot.
Instead, she turned and muttered, "Follow me."
The elevator stopped at the top floor. She walked out. I followed—because what else do you do when a mysterious girl tells you to come with her?
My heart was pounding. My mind was spinning. Was this... the moment?
---
She unlocked a sleek black door, pushed it open, and looked over her shoulder.
"Get in."
I stepped inside—ready for anything.
Except them.
There were five girls inside.
Not just any girls—these were the kind of girls you'd see on an anime poster labeled "Warning: May Cause Nosebleeds."
One was lounging on the couch, polishing what looked suspiciously like a grenade.
Another was upside down on the ceiling beams doing yoga with a sword strapped to her back.
One sat in front of a wall of glowing computer screens, wearing cat-ear headphones and zero patience.
A fourth was calmly throwing daggers at a dartboard... shaped like a teacher's face.
And the last one—goth boots, red eyes, and a death glare—was staring straight at me like I owed her money.
"Uhh..." I whispered. "Wrong room?"
"No," said the girl beside me. "Welcome to Crimson Dusk."
The bomb girl perked up. "Ooh! Is that the new recruit? He's kinda cute."
"No, he's not," said the goth one instantly.
"I think he's dying inside," the tech girl added without turning around.
I was dying inside.
These girls were way out of my league. Not just romantically—spiritually, physically, dimensionally.
This wasn't a room.
It was a danger zone with lip gloss.
"Guys…" I croaked. "I think there's been a mistake."
"You followed me," said the first girl, arms folded. "You entered the elevator. That means you passed the first test."
"That was a test?! I thought I was getting... invited. To... coffee. Or... murder?"
"Correct," said dagger girl. "Murder coffee."
Before I could bolt for the door, two of them grabbed my arms like I was luggage.
"Let's take him to HQ," bomb girl chirped.
"Wait—what HQ?! I have math class in ten minutes!"
"Congratulations," goth girl said as she opened another hidden elevator panel. "You're officially skipping math... forever."
---
Ten minutes later, we were in a hidden underground facility that looked like Batman's garage had a baby with a K-pop stage.
Sleek black walls. Holograms. Weapon racks. A glowing neon sign that read:
"WELCOME TO CRIMSON DUSK. TRY NOT TO DIE."
I stood in the middle of it all, still in my school uniform, still shaking, still very much confused.
I'd followed a pretty girl into an elevator...
Now I was somehow part of a secret assassin organization led by five dangerously attractive lunatics.
And for some reason?
I think they expect me to survive.
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