𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

── .✦ 3

Y/n sat stiffly at her desk, her hands gripping the edges of her chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. The classroom buzzed faintly with the teacher's voice, droning on about Marxism or something equally abstract, but the words slid off her like water. She couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe.

Her mind replayed the events from the gym storage room on an endless loop. The cold bite of the knife, Ayato's chilling whisper, the lifeless body of Osano—her brain screamed for a reprieve, but it wouldn't come. Her breaths came short and shallow, and every time her eyes flickered toward the door, she felt the same suffocating dread, like Ayato might appear at any moment.

"Y/n?"

The sound of her name jolted her. Her head snapped up to find her teacher staring at her expectantly, arms crossed. The classroom had fallen silent, all eyes now on her.

"I asked," the teacher repeated, clearly unimpressed, "if you could explain how Marx's concept of alienation applies to modern labor practices. Or is daydreaming your chosen area of expertise?"

A murmur of snickers rippled through the room. Y/n's throat tightened as her face grew hot, the weight of everyone's stares pressing down on her like a physical force.

"I—uh..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She hadn't even heard the question, let alone thought of an answer.

"Maybe she's alienated from reality," someone whispered from the back of the class, earning a few quiet laughs.

"Enough," the teacher said sharply, silencing the class. She turned her attention back to Y/n, her gaze narrowing. "If you're feeling unwell, you should visit the nurse. But if you're going to sit in my classroom, I expect you to engage."

Y/n swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "Y-yes, ma'am. Sorry."

The teacher sighed and moved on, her voice fading into the background as Y/n slumped lower in her seat. Her fingers trembled as she pressed them to her temples, trying to steady her breathing. 'Get a grip,' she told herself. 'Just survive until the final bell.'

But the whispers and sidelong glances didn't stop.

"Y/n, are you okay?" a soft voice came from beside her.

She flinched and turned to see Taeko Yamada watching her with a concerned expression. Taeko leaned in closer, her brow furrowed. "You look pale. Are you sick? Should I walk you to the nurse's office?"

The genuine kindness in Taeko's voice made Y/n's stomach churn with guilt. She could still feel Ayato's grip on her, hear his words echoing in her mind. For the love of my life... Taeko Yamada.

"No, I'm fine," Y/n lied, forcing a strained smile. "Just a headache."

Taeko didn't look convinced but nodded anyway. "If you're sure... let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks," Y/n mumbled, quickly looking away. She couldn't handle Taeko's gaze—not when she knew what Ayato was capable of, not when she felt complicit just by staying silent.

When the final bell rang, Y/n bolted from her seat before anyone could stop her. She shoved her notebook into her bag haphazardly and darted toward the door, ignoring the curious glances from her classmates.

"Y/n!" Taeko called after her, but Y/n didn't look back. She couldn't.

Her feet carried her through the school halls, past lockers and lingering students, straight to the main doors. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed them open and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. The crisp air hit her like a wave, but it did nothing to steady the storm inside her.