The dorm room was tense. Taiyashè tapped the edge of his notebook, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Renny-Penny," he said, smirking, "today we go hero hunting."
I groaned. "Not hunting heroes. Interviewing them. For five minutes each. That's all the database allowed."
Taiyashè rolled his eyes. "Same difference. Let's see who knows what — or who might be messing with you."
The pro hero facility was impressive. Sleek glass walls, quiet hums of energy fields, and posters of heroes in dynamic poses lined the hallways.
We were led to a small waiting room, where we would have exactly five minutes with each pro hero girl, no more, no less. Each one gave off a different vibe — confident, cautious, cheerful, serious.
The first hero, Flameveil, radiated heat as if her quirk burned through her sleeves. We asked casually about unusual campus activity.
"I don't know," she said, eyes flicking briefly to Taiyashè. "No one's allowed in the dorms without clearance. You should check the logs."
Five minutes later, we were escorted to the second hero, Skybloom — calm, poised, with subtle wind currents brushing her hair. Questions were similar, answers equally vague.
"Anything suspicious?" I asked."Not really," she said, smiling politely. "Students and staff follow strict rules."
Taiyashè whispered, "Too polite. That's either a pro hero or hiding something."
We went down the list: five minutes each. Time was short. Notes were frantic. Names, quirks, personalities, potential motives. Most were helpful but cautious — only one girl was on the League of Villains' radar, slim chance, but still possible.
Taiyashè leaned back after the last interview, scribbling furiously in his notebook. "So, either someone's really clever, or they're hiding behind the rules… or maybe… League of Villains. The odds are tiny, but hey, it's not zero."
I nodded. "Exactly. That girl is our wildcard. Slim chance, but it exists. Whoever left the notes could be… anyone. Or nobody we've officially met yet."
A quiet weight pressed on me. The thought of a villain, or even someone remotely dangerous, so close… leaving notes on our dorm windows… it made my hands itch. Fire sparked faintly along my fingers. I clenched them, hiding the glow.
Taiyashè glanced at me. "You okay, Renny-Penny?"
I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just… thinking about possibilities."
He grinned. "Possibilities, mysteries, villains, secret notes. You love this, admit it."
I didn't answer. I just scribbled more notes. Each five-minute interview was a piece of the puzzle — small, frustrating, and critical.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, that latent power — my Sovereign Pulse — hummed quietly. Waiting. Watching.
Because someone was already watching us.