A new week.
Monday dawned like any other—soft light slipping through the blinds, the distant hum of the city breaking through the quiet.
But something felt… wrong.
Ili stirred, a dull pressure settling in his chest.
He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the strange fog clinging to his mind. It was like a fragmented dream slipping through his fingers, impossible to hold onto.
Snippets of last week floated to the surface—faces, voices, moments—but they didn't connect properly.
Something was missing.
Something important.
Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?
…And why does it feel like I've been saying those words over and over again?
"Ili," Haru's voice snapped him back.
He looked up, seeing his roommate tossing a crumpled shirt onto his bed. "You're gonna be late if you keep daydreaming, man."
Haru grinned, but it didn't fully reach his eyes.
"We've got exams this week. Don't wanna bomb those, right?"
Ili blinked, nodding absently. "Yeah. Right."
His movements felt automatic as he got ready. But his mind wouldn't settle.
Certain moments from last week felt… off.
Kouko's hesitant smile.
Tatsuya's smirk.
The weight of something unspoken between them.
A sharp, unexplainable pressure clenched his chest.
Something was coming.
The usual warmth of student chatter had been replaced with something colder.
Ili stepped onto campus, immediately feeling the shift.
The conversations weren't normal background noise anymore.
They felt… pointed.
Sharp-edged words cut through the air, slicing through Ili's already fraying nerves.
"…He tried to follow her home, you know. Kouko didn't even want him there."
His steps faltered.
What?
He turned slightly, but no one was looking at him directly.
Yet, the voices continued.
"Not surprising. Did you hear how he threatened Tatsuya after that study session?"
"Psycho behavior, I'm telling you."
A sudden, shuddering chill ran down Ili's spine.
Each comment grew worse, spiraling into accusations that sounded too sinister to be just gossip.
And yet—they believed it.
The buzz of hostility thickened around him, students avoiding his gaze, their sidelong glances burning with quiet judgment.
Across the hall, Kouko stood near her locker, flipping through her notes.
But she wasn't really reading them.
Her ears picked up the whispers, fragments of words that sent a sinking feeling through her stomach.
She frowned.
Something about the way people were speaking about Ili… it didn't sit right.
She glanced toward the other students, hoping to see some hesitation in their faces, some doubt.
But there was none.
The belief in their words was unshaken.
And that was the part that scared her the most.
She wanted to say something, to tell them that Ili wasn't like that.
But—
Why was she hesitating?
Her grip tightened around her books.
Why do I feel like if I speak up, it'll only make things worse?
She turned, catching sight of Ili further down the hallway.
He looked tense, his shoulders squared like he could feel the weight of every gaze on him.
Then—
She heard it.
"…cornered her in the stairwell, apparently."
Kouko's breath hitched.
What?
She turned sharply, her voice almost breaking free—
But no one else seemed to question it.
As if the story had already been decided.
As if the truth didn't matter anymore.
Her pulse pounded.
Why is everyone so sure?
Her chest tightened with something she didn't want to name.
Guilt.
Because even she hesitated.
And that hesitation felt like a betrayal.
By the time Ili reached his locker, his breath was uneven, the weight of a dozen stares suffocating.
His hands trembled as he fumbled with the combination, his fingers clumsy, unsteady.
A burst of laughter erupted from a nearby group of upperclassmen.
He didn't turn—
Until he heard his own name.
"…he's hiding something."
Ili's fingers froze over the lock.
"Heard he's done worse. Hurt someone, maybe even worse, back where he came from."
The words hit like a punch to the ribs.
His stomach dropped.
His mind raced—
Each whisper sank deeper, like hooks in his flesh.
His memories taunted him—
What if they were right?
What if—
"Ili."
Haru.
He barely noticed his friend's presence beside him, not until he felt a hand gripping his shoulder.
"You need to hear this."
"What now?" Ili's voice felt foreign to his own ears.
Haru hesitated. His face was pale. Drawn.
"…It's worse than you think."
Ili turned fully now. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
"People are saying—someone's spreading stuff about you. Really bad stuff."
Ili's jaw clenched.
"No kidding," he muttered.
But Haru's expression darkened.
"No, Ili. They're saying…" He swallowed. "They're saying Kouko is too scared to report you—but she's planning to."
Ili's chest caved in on itself.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he hissed.
"That's not—none of this is true!"
"I know." Haru's grip tightened, desperate.
"But that doesn't matter."
The words sent a cold shock through Ili's body.
Because Haru was right.
It didn't matter.
Because people already believed it.
At first, Kouko hadn't noticed.
She had spent the morning forcing herself to focus on class, brushing off the vague unease lingering from last week.
But as the hours stretched on, the signs became impossible to ignore.
Conversations cut off as she passed.
Eyes lingered on her too long.
And then—the whispers.
At first, they were nothing more than fleeting murmurs, the kind of casual gossip that filled school hallways. But the words sharpened as the day progressed, each one laced with venom.
"...cornered her in the stairwell..."
"...obsessed, probably. Did you see how he looked at her last week?"
"...dangerous. Exchange students like that always have a past."
Her stomach twisted.
By the time lunch rolled around, the cafeteria—usually filled with the comforting hum of laughter and chatter—felt suffocating.
Even the clatter of trays against tables sounded sharper, like glass about to shatter.
Mika and Rina sat across from her, their usual chatter absent.
Kouko barely touched her food, staring down at her tray, pushing rice aimlessly with her chopsticks.
Something was wrong.
And the look on Mika's face told her she was about to find out what.
"You haven't heard, have you?"
Mika's voice was low. Cautious.
Kouko looked up sharply, a spike of unease tightening in her chest.
"Heard what?" she asked, her tone harsher than intended.
Mika hesitated.
Rina sighed, breaking the silence.
"There are... rumors. About you and Ili."
Kouko froze.
Her chopsticks hovered mid-air before clattering onto her tray.
Rumors?
Her pulse quickened.
"What kind of rumors?" she asked, even though she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.
Mika and Rina exchanged another glance—hesitant. Careful.
Mika leaned in slightly, her voice dropping.
"They're saying... he's jealous."
Kouko blinked. "Jealous? Of what?"
Rina exhaled. "Jealous of Tatsuya."
Kouko's stomach dropped.
"That's ridiculous," she snapped. But even as she spoke, the accusation lodged itself in her chest like a splinter.
Ili? Jealous?
Her mind raced, piecing together the way Ili had been acting lately.
Distant one moment. Protective the next.
It didn't make sense.
Did it?
Her silence only seemed to encourage them.
Mika's gaze was sympathetic, but firm.
"That's not all, Kouko."
She leaned in further.
"Some people are saying he's been... aggressive."
Kouko's stomach churned.
"Aggressive?"
Her voice trembled before she could stop it.
"What are you talking about?"
Rina sighed, crossing her arms.
"There's a rumor going around that he cornered you in the hallway last week. That you looked scared and didn't want to be near him."
The air left Kouko's lungs.
That moment—she remembered it vividly.
Ili had stood close, figuring out she felt uneasy and helping her get out of it.
There had been no fear. No threat.
"That's not what happened."
Her voice came out firm—but not as strong as she wanted it to be.
"He wasn't—he didn't—"
She faltered.
Her hands curled into fists beneath the table.
Mika spoke quickly. "We believe you."
But something in her tone wavered.
Rina didn't sugarcoat it.
"But you know how people are."
She met Kouko's gaze, unflinching.
"They see something and blow it out of proportion. And because he's an exchange student..."
Her voice trailed off.
Kouko swallowed, already knowing how that sentence would end.
"They're assuming the worst."
Kouko's fingers trembled as she clasped her hands together in her lap.
She could feel it now—the weight of the whispers, the venom in people's gazes.
Her mind flashed back to Tatsuya's smirk from last week.
Did he see us?
Did he say something?
The pieces clicked together.
This wasn't just careless gossip.
This was deliberate.
Someone had started this.
And that someone knew exactly what they were doing.
"This isn't fair," she whispered.
The words felt hollow.
"Ili hasn't done anything wrong."
"But people believe he has," Rina said bluntly.
"And the more they talk—the worse it's going to get."
Later that afternoon, Kouko found him at the far end of campus, near the vending machines.
The spot was quiet, tucked away, as if Ili had chosen it specifically to be unseen.
He stood with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets.
The sharpness that usually defined his posture was gone.
For the first time, he looked smaller.
Like the weight of everything had drained the life out of him.
"Ili."
Her voice was soft. Hesitant.
He didn't react at first.
Then—**slowly, like it took effort—**he lifted his gaze.
For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes at the sight of her.
Something tired. Something familiar.
But then—
His expression hardened.
His jaw tightened, his shoulders squared, and whatever moment of vulnerability had been there—it was gone.
"What do you want?"
His voice was flat. Distant.
But the exhaustion beneath it was undeniable.
She clutched the strap of her bag, fingers twisting around the fabric.
"I heard what people are saying."
Her voice wavered, the words clumsy and uneven.
Ili's shoulders tensed visibly.
He turned away.
His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter.
"Let them talk."
His voice was low, like he didn't have the energy to care.
But Kouko knew he cared.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered.
Kouko took a step closer.
Too fast. Too loud.
Her emotions spilled over before she could stop them.
"It does matter, Ili!"
Her voice cracked, frustration breaking through the silence.
"This isn't fair—none of it is true, and you know that!"
Something in Ili snapped.
He spun to face her.
The intensity in his eyes made her flinch.
But it wasn't anger.
It was pain.
Raw. Unfiltered.
"Do I?"
His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Because from where I'm standing, everyone seems more than happy to believe it."
Kouko's breath caught.
Her chest tightened.
"Ili, I'm so sorry."
Her voice was softer now, almost pleading.
"I don't know who started this, but—"
"But you think it's Tatsuya, don't you?"
Ili's words hit like a slap.
Her breath hitched.
His eyes pierced into hers, demanding an answer.
And for the first time—
She hesitated.
She looked away.
She knew her silence was as good as confirmation.
Ili let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
"Of course."
He ran a tired hand through his disheveled hair.
"Guess that makes sense."
His voice was so empty that it scared her.
"Who else would enjoy twisting the knife like this?"
"Ili."
She stepped forward, reaching for him before she could stop herself.
"I'll talk to him. I'll figure this out. You don't have to deal with this alone."
The second her words left her mouth, Ili recoiled.
It wasn't deliberate.
It was instinctive.
Like she had just touched fire.
"No."
His voice was sharp. Final.
"You don't need to get involved."
Kouko's heart pounded.
"But I want to help!"
Her emotions swelled, breaking through the space between them.
"You don't deserve this!"
Ili's gaze softened for a moment.
But then—
He stepped closer.
Close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Kouko."
His voice was so quiet.
So tired.
"You have to stay out of this."
Her chest ached at the way he said it.
Like he was pleading.
Like he was begging.
"Why?" she whispered.
Her voice broke.
"Why won't you let me help?"
For a long, agonizing moment, Ili just stared at her.
His expression was a storm of emotions.
Anger. Sadness. Something deeper.
Then—he exhaled.
His shoulders slumped.
And when he spoke again—his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because if you get involved…they'll turn on you too."
His eyes burned into hers.
"And I… I can't let that happen."
"But Ili—"
"Kouko."
He cut her off.
His voice sharper now.
"You have to choose."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
Her breath caught.
"Choose?"
She barely recognized her own voice.
Ili nodded.
"Between believing in me and staying out of it…"
His gaze flickered.
"Or… whatever this is."
He gestured vaguely at the growing distance between them.
His next words were so quiet she barely heard them.
"Because I don't think I can keep this up if you don't trust me."
Silence.
Heavy. Crushing.
Kouko's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
She opened her mouth—
Nothing came out.
The weight of his ultimatum was suffocating.
"Ili…"
She whispered his name like a lifeline.
"I do trust you."
Ili closed his eyes for just a second.
Then—he let out a sharp breath.
"Then trust me to handle this my way."
His voice wasn't cold.
It was pleading.
"Please."
The quiet vulnerability in his voice made her want to cry.
Reluctantly, she nodded.
"Okay," she whispered.
Even though every part of her wanted to protest.
Ili's posture relaxed slightly, but his expression remained heavy.
"Thank you," he murmured.
But it didn't sound like a thank you at all.
It sounded like a goodbye.
A silence stretched between them.
Kouko watched him, heart aching.
Ili looked... broken.
Like the weight of everything was eroding the person she knew.
He turned to the vending machine, pressing buttons mechanically.
Without looking at her, he spoke again.
"I don't know who started this."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"But whoever it is… they're good at it."
The evening air was thick with the hum of campus life—laughter spilling from open windows, hurried footsteps echoing down the pathways, conversations overlapping like a tangled web of noise. Yet amidst the chaos, Tatsuya moved like a phantom.
Unnoticed. Unbothered. Unstoppable.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded, his sharp gaze trailing over the faces passing by. A small group of students crossed his vision, their voices light, their expressions carefree. He barely heard them. His focus was elsewhere.
On Ili.
On the cracks forming beneath that calm, collected surface.
On the growing weight in Kouko's gaze—the hesitation, the doubt he had carefully placed there.
A slow, calculated smirk pulled at his lips.
He's starting to break.
He tilted his head slightly, replaying the moment Ili's expression had shifted, that brief flicker of frustration, of something dangerously close to anger. And Kouko—she was already slipping.
She thought she was steady, but she was exactly where he wanted her.
Tatsuya exhaled, pushing off the wall with ease, but something in his posture shifted—the amusement in his smirk dulled, replaced by something colder.
This wasn't enough.
Not yet.
Not until Ili shattered completely.
Not until Kouko was standing on the wrong side, questioning everything she thought she knew.
And then—when it was too late—when Ili was too weak to fight back—
Tatsuya would remind him why.
Why he should have never come back.
Why some things should stay forgotten.
His fingers twitched, itching for the moment when the final pieces would fall into place. The edges of his vision sharpened, the world around him blurring into irrelevance.
Only Ili.
Only Kouko.
Only the inevitable collapse waiting just beneath the surface.
He could already see it—the moment Ili would realize. The moment he would try to fight back.
And the moment he would fail.
Because this wasn't just about toying with them anymore.
This was about making sure Ili never stood up again.
A flicker of something darker passed through Tatsuya's eyes, something twisted and unshakable.
The pieces were moving.
And he was ready to tip the board