Chapter 23: I Don't Want to Hurt You
The aftermath of the training field incident didn't fade with the night.
By morning, Class E3 was under complete lockdown.
All sessions suspended. Training field access denied. Armament deployment, voided. Even their basic clearance had been downgraded.
The official reason?
"System integrity under review. Temporary containment for safety."
No one spelled it out, but everyone knew—it was because of Nie Shi.
He hadn't slept.
He sat on the edge of his bed, unmoving.
The curtains were pulled shut, but a sliver of morning light bled through, drawing a faint line across his arm like an incision.
He was still in yesterday's clothes, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenched tightly on his lap.
His palm bore a mark—reddish, faintly bruised—from where he'd been pressing into it all night. Like he could silence the thing inside him if he just pressed hard enough.
Void hadn't come back.
But it hadn't left, either.
He could still feel it.
A pulse under his skin.
A whisper behind every heartbeat. It coiled in the cracks of his thoughts like a shadow waiting for an invitation.
It wasn't speaking to him now. But it didn't need to.
It was still there.
Waiting.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
"…It's me."
The voice was quiet, gentle—Lin Kui.
She always sounded like that. Like someone afraid her presence might be too heavy.
Nie Shi didn't respond. Not at first. He just stared at the thin beam of light stretching across the floor like a silent timer.
Then, slowly, he stood.
His body ached. His thoughts were frayed.
He reached the door and opened it.
She was there, dressed in her academy loungewear.
Wind had ruffled her hair slightly. She was holding a bottle of water and a folded note in her hand.
"I… just wanted to check on you," she said softly, not meeting his eyes as she held the bottle out.
He didn't take it.
He stared at it for a second, then looked away.
She paused, shifting slightly. "Does it… still hurt?"
"…It's none of your business."
His voice was low, hoarse.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the bottle. "But yesterday, you—"
"I said it's none of your business!"
His voice snapped.
She flinched. Just barely.
His eyes were sharp, colder than she'd ever seen them.
That wasn't just pain. That was fear.
"Stop getting close to me."
He took a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can control it.
The closer you get… the more I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
She stood there, still. Not angry. Just quiet.
The bottle slipped from her hand. It rolled to the side with a dull plastic rattle.
"I wasn't here to blame you," she said after a moment. Her voice was soft but clear.
Nie Shi's eyes lowered. "But I'll blame myself."
There was nothing else to say.
He took a step back—and closed the door.
Not violently.
Not with anger.
Just… closed.
Outside, Lin Kui crouched slowly and picked up the bottle.
She didn't cry.
She placed the folded note beneath it, set it carefully at the base of the door, and walked away.
The hallway was bright with morning light.
But her shadow stretched long and thin behind her.
Later that day, Instructor Zhong Lan's office was sealed off.
A warning flashed on the faculty network:
"Pending investigation. Supervision failure under review. Temporary suspension of duties."
The class fell into stunned silence.
"This is messed up," Su Xu muttered. "Punish us all you want, but Zhong Lan? Seriously?"
Lu Jingxing's eyes narrowed. "This isn't discipline.
It's extraction."
At the back of the room, Lin Kui sat quietly.
She was holding nothing but a blank notepad, but her fingers kept brushing over the corner like something had been there.
Her voice was barely audible.
"Does he really not want me near him…
or is he afraid I'll leave?"
Elsewhere—
In the backend of the academy's system logs, something triggered.
[System Audit: Irregular Log Deletion Detected]
[User 'ZhongLan' accessed and wiped memory boundary records related to Class E3 and the anomalous Armament.]
[Recommendation: Elevate threat level. Isolate and monitor.]
It should have gone unseen.
But someone saw it.
Luo Jia stood on the rooftop of the faculty wing.
Her coat hung over her shoulders, and in front of her hovered a projection screen flickering with raw logs and system flags.
Her eyes didn't blink as she scrolled.
Line by line.
"…She really did it," she whispered.
Her face was calm, but her fingers trembled.
She looked toward the dorm building in the distance.
Toward a single window, faintly lit by evening light.
The boy who had never stood on her side.
Not then.
Not now.
Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear. Nie Shi sat in silence, his mind cycling through fragments of memory and fear.