The laughter came late.
That was mistake number one.
"…Guess that settles it," a voice said lightly.
Too lightly.
A man pushed himself up from the floor, rolling his shoulders with exaggerated care, lips curling into a crooked grin. He clapped once, slow and deliberate, as if applause might turn humiliation into humor.
"Well," he added, "still hits like a—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Why Laughter Fails
Aria stopped walking.
Didn't turn around.
Didn't sigh.
She simply paused.
That was enough to make the corridor tighten again.
The man noticed it too late.
"…Hey," he said, chuckling.
"Relax. We're all friends here, right?"
No one echoed him.
No one even breathed too loudly.
Aria Turns
She faced him.
Her expression wasn't cold.
It was empty.
"You think this ends with a joke," she said.
Not a question.
The man shrugged.
"Gallows humor," he replied.
"Old habit."
She nodded once.
"So is testing boundaries," she said.
"And you just did."
The Correction
She didn't move fast.
That was what terrified him.
She stepped into his space and placed two fingers on his chest.
Not a strike.
A marker.
"You laugh to pretend you didn't feel it," she continued.
"But you did."
Her fingers pressed—just enough.
Pain flared sharp and sudden, stealing the air from his lungs.
He staggered back, choking.
Hands clawing uselessly at nothing.
She caught him before he fell.
Lowered him to the floor.
Controlled.
Precise.
No One Misses the Lesson
"Humor doesn't make you brave," Aria said calmly.
"It just makes you loud."
She straightened.
Looked around.
"Anyone else need to cope?"
Silence answered.
Deep.
Complete.
Noah Understands the Final Layer
From the doorway, Noah swallowed hard.
"…She's not punishing them," he realized.
"…She's stripping excuses."
There would be no jokes to hide behind.
No bravado.
No nostalgia.
Only truth.
The Man Doesn't Laugh Again
On the floor, the man lay still, breathing shallow, eyes unfocused.
Not injured.
Just corrected.
He nodded once.
Barely.
Understood.
Closing Beat
Aria turned away again.
This time, she didn't stop.
The corridor stayed silent behind her.
Not because anyone was afraid to speak—
But because nothing else needed to be said.
The hierarchy had been restored.
And laughter—
Like everything else out of place—
Had been removed.