The school changed, but the faces didn't.
They just got quieter.
Fake sympathy replaced open hate.
The whispers didn't stop — they just got smarter. Softer. Smiles carried knives now.
But none of them knew:
I was already dissecting them all in my mind.
One by one.
Like I always have.
Like I always will.
---
Tamim was getting sloppy.
He kept looking over his shoulder in class.
His hands trembled during the chemistry lab.
And when the teacher asked him to read aloud, he stuttered through every sentence like English was foreign to him.
Guilt did that.
But I didn't move yet.
Because what I needed wasn't fear.
It was confession.
---
Lunch break.
I didn't sit at my usual table.
I didn't sit at all.
Instead, I stood behind the pillar near the old staffroom — where signals dropped and secrets echoed.
Tamim walked past.
He paused.
He sensed me.
But didn't see me.
Then his phone buzzed.
I heard him say:
> "We have a problem. He's not cracking."
Bingo.
---
Now I had confirmation.
He wasn't working alone.
Someone else was pulling strings — someone smarter.
And it wasn't just about framing me.
It was about silencing me.
Because whoever they were… they knew I knew too much.
Maybe about the school.
Maybe about them.
Maybe both.
---
I pulled out my notebook.
The real one.
The one I don't even save digitally.
The one with names. Timelines. Patterns.
There were four suspects:
1. Tamim – the pawn, unstable and loud.
2. Raya – the social media queen, always knows who's dating who before they do.
3. Ahsan – the vice principal's pet, with admin access and zero morality.
4. Nafisa – too quiet, too observant, too perfect.
One of them was the spider.
The rest?
Flies in her web.
Or his.
---
That night, I didn't sleep.
I studied.
Not books.
People.
Their comments, their habits, their contradictions.
Raya's account had a sudden surge of views — because she posted a "mental health awareness" story about bullying...
a week after helping bully me.
Ahsan's browser history had been cleared on every school device after the incident.
Nafisa's handwriting matched the note I found in Tamim's locker.
Too clean to be coincidence.
Too perfect to be ignored.
---
Next day.
I triggered the first domino.
A fake email to Ahsan:
> "We know what you did. The cameras weren't really off."
Sent it from a school account I hacked two months ago. Old password. Easy access.
Then, I waited.
He ran to the IT lab like his feet were on fire.
I followed at a distance.
He was deleting things.
Panicking.
Sweating.
Good.
---
Then I made a move no one expected.
I walked straight up to Nafisa in the library.
Sat across from her.
Opened my notebook.
Flipped it to the page with her name at the top.
She looked up.
Smiled.
But her eyes?
Stone.
"You've been watching me," I said.
"I observe everyone," she replied.
"No. Not like this."
She closed her book.
Leaned forward.
And whispered:
> "Then observe this — you're still three moves behind."
Then she stood up and walked away like nothing happened.
---
For the first time in weeks, I felt real danger.
She wasn't just involved.
She was leading it.
Nafisa was the Thought Broker's predator.
And now I was her prey.
But she made a mistake.
She told me I was behind.
Which means—
She assumes I'm playing the same game.
She doesn't know I've already changed the rules.
---
End of Chapter 11
---