Eyes in The Golden Hour

The golden hour wrapped the GPPS in warmth, painting shadows long and soft. The gentle breeze swayed through neatly trimmed trees, ruffling Kemiko's princess bangs. She strolled leisurely, humming a tune only she could hear, as if her search for Edo had been just a regular afternoon adventure.

Her steps, light and innocent, carried a tinge of awareness.

There's a feeling that tugged at her instincts.

Eyes.

Somewhere, someone was watching her.

Her 'Kemi senses' whispered that someone's gaze had followed her since she parted ways with Hyun.

Still, she wore her brightest, most oblivious smile.

Safety rule number one: act clueless—Oton said so—Most people won't bother to think a cheerful kid who seems to have no idea what's happening as someone... Aware.

But now...

She blinked as a chill crawled down her spine.

Another set of eyes.

Sharper.

It pricked at her skin, despite the golden warmth of the afternoon.

It felt like a predator sizing up its prey.

The muscles in her legs tensed.

She wanted to turn around, to catch the gaze, but she resisted.

😶😗🎵 (Just humming here, totally normal!)

Her heart thumped louder when she caught a sudden shift in the air—movement.

Sharp. Quick.

Her body moved on instinct, turning sharply.

But...

Nothing.

Just the peaceful afternoon breeze rustling leaves in the golden glow.

Kemiko's chest heaved softly as she steadied her breath. Her eyes scanning the seemingly calm path, but all she found was stillness. Nothing out of place.

Yet...

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was there, lurking just beyond the edges of perception.

Then her lips curled into a smile.

Interesting.

Her heart no longer raced with unease but curiosity.

This wasn't just a school for high-scoring geniuses, the kind who aced exams and calculated formulas on napkins. No, this place was a world of its own — full of secrets.

The kind of place where brilliance wasn't measured solely by grades, but by survival.

...They said this was a place for a bright future....

...But nothing can be truly bright without darkness, can it?...

...~•~...

Edward sat on the edge of his bed, the air in the room heavy with silence. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady the storm brewing inside.

What was that?

The split-second flash in his mind refused to fade — her smile, soft, bright... with that faint dimple on her right cheek. Revived something he had long buried.

It couldn't be possible. No way...

He exhaled sharply, grounding himself.

But before he could settle, his gaze moved towards his youngest roommate standing by the window. His posture unusually tense.

"What?" Edward asked, brows furrowing.

The boy didn't respond, just shook his head slightly, still staring out the window as though he'd seen something... impossible.

"What did you saw?" Edward pressed, his tone low but sharp.

Words caught in his throat. "I... I don't know."

"Diego." Edward pressed one more time, quieter this time.

"Something..." Diego pointed towards the window, his finger trembling slightly in the direction of the building across from theirs.

Edward's gut tightened.

"Stay." he commanded, voice cold and clipped.

Before anyone else in the room could react, Edward was already moving — fast, furious. His feet barely touched the floor as he bolted for the door, throwing it open with such force it nearly bounced off the wall.

"Edward!" the boy called, rushing after him.

But by the time he reached the hallway and looked both ways—Edward was gone.

The air still buzzed with the aftermath of his speed. Diego whispered to himself, "This is bad..."

He knew Edward wasn't just anyone. No one in this school was just anyone. But this? Whatever had just pulled Edward out of the room, this fast?

It was dangerous.

And now the boy could feel it in his bones — something was about to begin.

..."I wish you're here with me, Red wing."...

...~•~...

The air was thick with tension, Edward's footsteps echoes sharply against the stairwell. The dorm walls blurred past him; students instinctively moved aside as he barreled through the hall, their startled voices fading into static in his ears.

Too fast. Too quiet. Too wrong.

His heart slammed against his ribs, but it wasn't just adrenaline — it was instinct honed from years of watching at the edges of crime scenes. His mother's footsteps had always guided him into places where danger didn't wait for permission.

Think, Edward. What did the he see?

He knew better than to dismiss oddities.

Coincidences don't exist.

Not in the world he grew up in. And certainly not here, in this strange island school that already felt more like a chessboard filled with pieces moving in ways they shouldn't.

The golden hour glow outside only heightened the surreal calm — a peace that felt manufactured, fragile, like glass ready to shatter.

Edward's breath was sharp as he cut through the courtyard, narrowly missing a group of students. His shoulder clipped someone. "Hey!" the voice called after him, but he was already gone.

Focus. Cross-references. Details.

The boy had pointed toward the east building — the faculty wing and research annex. Quiet, restricted, and supposedly secure.

Supposedly.

If something's there, it's not just a wandering student. Especially if it's enough to stunned Diego.

A sharp chill ran down his spine. If this is real — a threat in GPPS — that changes everything.

...~•~...

Edward's steps echoed in the empty corridor, steady and measured, though every fiber of his being hummed with unease. It was quiet. Too quiet.

No sign of anyone.

But something had moved to this building — fast, precise. Diego had seen it from their dorm window. Something sharp enough to cut through the air.

There was a target, Edward reasoned, glancing back towards the dorms through the glass panes.

He moved, aligning his steps with what he imagined to be Diego's line of sight.

Right here.

The perfect trajectory.

His eyes scanned the floor, searching for disturbances. At first, there was nothing, just smooth tiles gleaming under the fading afternoon light. But then —

There.

A faint disruption in the dust, barely perceptible. Not footprints exactly, but subtle traces of movement. Someone had been here — recently.

Edward knelt down, one knee pressing to the floor. His sharp eyes caught a tiny fragment, almost indistinguishable from debris. Carefully, he retrieved it with his handkerchief.

This could be nothing. Could be everything.

He rubbed a bit of dust between his fingers, feeling the texture shift. His brow furrowed as he spotted it — fine strands, fragmented to near invisibility.

Hair... shredded like dust.

A chill ran down his spine. Whoever was here didn't just flee. They were hunted.

He traced the disturbance further, eyes narrowing as the scenario reconstructed itself in his mind.

...~•~...

[Edward, replaying his deduction]

Someone launched a precise attack from a distance — sharp, fast, deadly.

And the target? Skilled enough to dodge it.

Barely.

They must have realized they were being watched and fled before their cover was fully blown.

Two people. One who throws, one who evades.

The odds?

Both dangerous yet against each other, or... one hunting the other. Predator and prey.

That was unsettling enough, but the next thought hit harder. This is a private island.

Every inch of it protected by cutting-edge security systems, updated and upgraded frequently.

How could someone break in without setting off a single alarm?

There are two possibilities I can think off now,

Either they 'took' someone's place—Or they were skilled enough to bypass the system completely.

With what intention? If it was just for some petty crime — that didn't add up.

What kind of psych would take that risk here? What for?

...~•~...

He tried to convince himself it was nothing more than his mind spiraling into overanalysis, but his gaze caught something else — a fresh jagged mark on the wall.

Impact point.

It was clean — too clean. The weapon, whatever it was, had been retrieved.

The owner came back for it.

Edward's heart thudded against his chest, his face remaining neutral, composed.

They were here before me... and they're—still here. Probably watching.

His hands felt cold despite the warm afternoon.

Unarmed. You rushed here unprepared, you fool. Don't act out of line.

He straightened smoothly, brushing off his knee as though he'd simply dropped something. His expression remained neutral — just another student passing through.

But his thoughts were razor-sharp as he walked toward the exit.

...~•~...

...Look closer, huh? Mande? — But I got carried away....

...Someone here knows how to hide too well....

...And now, they knew I was aware....

...~•~...

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