The school bus hummed with the low chatter of students, the sound of laughter occasionally spilling into the aisles like a ripple in still water. Yui sat by the window, her reflection ghosted against the glass — pale, tired eyes, lashes trembling as she tried to ignore the view across the aisle.
Haruto.
He sat there with that unreadable half-smirk of his, one arm carelessly thrown over the seatback. And beside him — Yuki, the perfect doll of the class, leaning a little too close, her voice sugary sweet as she said something that made Haruto chuckle.
Yui's stomach twisted.
She turned her head toward the passing scenery — trees, walls, the blur of daylight — anything to distract from the way Yuki's manicured fingers "accidentally" brushed against Haruto's sleeve again and again.
It wasn't new, this pattern. Haruto's eyes would flick toward Yui from time to time, as if checking whether she was watching, his expression almost daring her to react. He was playing his little game again — the one that always left her chest feeling like it was splitting open.
And Yuki was all too eager to be his weapon.
The bus hit a bump, and Yuki's hand landed on Haruto's knee. She giggled. He didn't move away.
Yui's throat tightened. He was enjoying it. Enjoying watching her feel something — jealousy, maybe pain — anything that proved she still cared.
The driver announced, "We're here!"
The bus slowed, brakes hissing, and pulled up in front of a sleek boutique. Silver letters gleamed across its glass front — Komae Atelier, one of the most reputed designer houses in the city.
The students spilled out one by one, voices buzzing with excitement. Yuki hooked her arm through Haruto's possessively, loud enough for Yui to hear, "Come on, Haru, let's go in together~"
Yui stayed behind, fixing her skirt, her breath shallow. The moment her foot touched the pavement, she felt eyes on her — Haruto's. But when she looked up, he was already walking away with Yuki.
Inside, the air was thick with perfume and fabric dust, mirrors reflecting flashes of color and movement. The designer, a tall, sharp-faced woman named Reina, greeted the students with a calculating smile. "Welcome, everyone. Today, we'll be fitting you for the dance showcase. Please line up — one at a time."
Yuki was the first to go. She was practically glowing as she introduced herself. "Ah, Reina-san! You probably remember me, right? I modeled for your fall collection last year."
The designer's crimson lips curved. "Of course, Yuki-chan. How could I forget?"
Yuki glanced back — directly at Yui — as if to flaunt it.
One by one, students stepped into the fitting rooms, came out twirling, showing off their outfits. Laughter filled the hall. The sound pressed against Yui's temples.
When it was finally her turn, the assistant handed her a pale dress — soft fabric that shimmered like mist under the light. "Try this one. It'll look lovely on you."
Inside the changing room, Yui undressed quietly. The air was cool against her skin, and the full-length mirror reflected a fragile version of her — bare shoulders, goosebumps forming under the faint hum of the AC.
She slipped into the dress. It hugged her waist perfectly, the skirt flowing like melted silk. But when she reached back for the zipper, it wouldn't move. She tugged once. Twice. The zipper stayed stuck halfway down.
"Chiyo?" she called, voice soft. "Can you help me with the zip, please?"
No answer.
Yui sighed and tried again. The fabric refused to yield. She heard footsteps behind her — soft, measured. Relief flooded her. "Ah, you came. Can you zip it up for me? It's caught halfway."
The person didn't answer. But the next thing she felt made her breath freeze.
Fingers — cold and deliberate — brushing against the bare skin of her back.
Her shoulders tensed instinctively, but the touch didn't falter. The hand slid slowly, carefully upward, tracing the edge of the zipper. The metal teeth clicked softly as it moved, a quiet, intimate sound that echoed far too loudly in the still air.
Yui's heart began to race. That wasn't Chiyo.
The scent — faint cologne, sandalwood, and smoke — hit her next. Familiar. Dangerous.
Haruto was standing close behind her, head tilted slightly, eyes dark with a focus that bordered on predatory. There was a flicker in his expression — something raw, conflicted, almost pained.
The zipper reached the top. His fingers lingered there, brushing against the nape of her neck.
Yui turned, forcing a small smile, "Thank you, Chi—"
Her voice broke mid-word when she saw him.
He looked... different. The fluorescent light caught his eyes, deep and unreadable. His gaze didn't waver, locked on her face as if trying to memorize something he'd already lost.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, taking a step back.
But before either could say another word—
"Don't you dare try to snatch my man!"
Yuki's voice sliced through the tension like glass. She was standing in the doorway, eyes blazing, her perfectly curled hair swaying with each furious breath.
She strode in, grabbed Haruto's wrist, and yanked him out of the room. "Come on, Haruto. You don't need to be here."
Yui stood frozen. Her reflection in the mirror looked fragile — the color drained from her face, her lips trembling.
She straightened the dress quietly, pressing her palms over her chest to calm the erratic rhythm beneath. "It's okay," she murmured to herself. "It's okay…"
She was about to open the door when the handle turned again.
This time, it was Reina — the designer. But there was something unsettling about her presence now. Her expression had changed — softer, almost too soft — eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"Yui-chan," Reina said, her voice dripping with unnatural calm. Yui blinked, "Yes?"
The designer stepped closer, holding a long pair of silver scissors in her hand. The blades gleamed under the light, catching the faintest glint of menace.
Reina tilted her head slightly, smile widening. "You're already beautiful, but…" she raised the scissors slowly, tracing them near the hem of Yui's dress, "…let me make you more beautiful."
Yui's throat went dry. Something in Reina's eyes… wasn't normal.
Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice.And just like that — blackout.