Chapter 6: Day 1 β Part 2

The lingering fear on her face and the unshed tears felt like a heavy presence in Iris’s half-packed room.

I watched her take a shaky, fortifying breath, the new light of defiance in her eyes vying with exhaustion.

"Okay," I said, my voice low, trying to project a confidence I was only just starting to feel. "I have a plan, Iris. But for it to work, I need you to trust me. Fully. And I need you to be strong, stronger than you’ve ever been."

She nodded, her gaze fixed on mine. The hand that clutched her phone was still trembling, but resolve was clear in her eyes.

"What do you need me to do?"

"For now? The hardest part." I offered a small, grim smile. "You go about your day. Exactly as you would have if… if none of this had happened. Breakfast with Mom and Dad. The usual goodbyes. Make it look like today is just the day you move out, nervous but determined. No hint of anything else."

Her eyes widened slightly. "But… what if he’s watching? What if he sees I'm not as broken as he expects?"

"He won't," I said, the certainty in my voice hopefully overriding her fear.

My certainty wasn't a guess; the previous timeline had shown me his brutal endgame unfolded later, after she was supposedly alone and vulnerable, a horrifying truth I couldn't yet share. I needed a reason that was both strategically sound for her and aligned with what I knew.

"He expects you to break after you leave, when you're 'isolated.' Your leaving now, looking like you're just moving on, plays into the scenario he thinks he's controlling."

"This keeps Mom and Dad safe, and it buys us critical time to prepare. For now, this is how we start fighting back, on our terms, not his."

"And Iris," I added, my voice softening, "before you go, I need access. Your email, any social media where he contacted you, where those chat logs are. I need to see everything."

A flicker of discomfort crossed her face. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze dropping to her phone.

"My… my accounts?" she murmured, then looked up, a faint flush rising on her cheeks.

"It’s not that I mind you seeing the threats, Rey. It’s just… there’s other stuff. Stellaris’s main fan discord, some of the… sillier fan interactions. Long debates about really stupid stuff. It’s a different side of me."

"I don’t mind you seeing it, but… I guess I worry what you’ll think."

I managed a genuine smile, a brief respite from the tension. "Iris, after 'Princess Starlight,' do you really think I'm going to judge you for online silliness?"

"Besides," I added, a teasing note creeping in, "I'm an expert in stupid online debates."

Her answering smile was watery but real. She quickly tapped her phone, then handed it to me.

"Password's 'ArrakisDancer77'."

"Of course, it is," I chuckled, taking the phone. The familiar weight of it felt alien, a portal to a part of her life I was only just discovering.

"Go on," I urged gently, gesturing towards the door. "Be brave. I'll handle this. We'll handle this."

She nodded, took another deep breath, and walked out, leaving me alone in the quiet, tense room.

The quiet room still held the strong impression of her recent fear.

I immediately dove into her emails and chat logs, the cold dread returning as I scrolled through the stalker’s venomous messages, the horrifyingly personal pictures.

But then, as Iris predicted, I found the other side: Stellaris’s vibrant community, the passionate, sometimes ridiculous, discussions.

One particularly lengthy thread involved a heated debate over whether Princess Starlight’s signature 'Sparkling Heart Beam' was metaphysically powered by love or concentrated stardust.

I found myself snorting with laughter despite the grim context.

It was a brief, much-needed reminder of the Iris beneath the terror, the one worth fighting for.

After a few minutes, I heard her footsteps retreating down the stairs, then the murmur of voices from the kitchen.

Phase one.

My own room felt like a sanctuary, albeit one about to become a war room.

I closed the door, the click of the latch echoing in the sudden quiet.

The first call was to Ash.

The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Rey," his voice was calm and unsurprised, which was typical of Ash's composed demeanor.

"Ash, it's me. I need you. Here. Now. Something… big has happened." I kept my voice low, even though Iris was downstairs.

"Understood," Ash replied without hesitation. "Excuses will be made. I'm on my way."

The line clicked off.

Next, Leo.

He answered on the first ring with a boisterous, "Yo! Change your mind about that rematch so soon?"

"Leo, listen. I need you and Arya. At my place, as soon as possible. Don't ask questions now, just come. It's serious. Tell Arya to clear her schedule."

A beat of silence, then Leo's voice, all humor gone, replaced by a grim seriousness I rarely heard.

"We're there, man. Give us twenty."

I didn't call Rose.

The thought brought a familiar ache, a tightening in my chest.

The chasm between us, carved by the accident and my own guilt, felt too wide to bridge for something like this.

How could I ask for her help when I was still so mired in the shame of my connection to her pain?

With the calls made, I surveyed my room.

My desk was cluttered with textbooks and half-finished homework, clothes were draped over the back of my chair, posters of obscure bands and sci-fi movies adorned the walls.

My gaze fell on the corner diagonally opposite the door, currently occupied by a leaning tower of unread graphic novels and a forlorn-looking beanbag chair.

Perfect.

I moved with brisk efficiency, clearing the corner, stacking the graphic novels on my already burdened bookshelf, and shoving the beanbag chair against the foot of my bed.

The bare patch of floorboards looked stark.

Then, I focused inward, summoning the [Pocket Dimension S] menu.

Layer 01, already set to Room mode from my rooftop experiments.

"Open External Access," I willed, picturing the entrance not as a door, but as the entire three-dimensional space of the cleared corner, a perfect cube of reality sectioned off.

The air in the corner shimmered, a faint, almost invisible distortion, like heat haze on a summer road.

The translucent boundary of the Pocket Dimension solidified, flush with the walls and floor, effectively replacing the corner of my room with an entrance to the grey, featureless void within.

With the calls made, I surveyed my room.

My desk was cluttered with textbooks and half-finished homework, clothes were draped over the back of my chair, posters of obscure bands and sci-fi movies adorned the walls.

A secure place to talk, free from any conceivable surveillance.

My gaze fell on the corner diagonally opposite the door, currently occupied by a leaning tower of unread graphic novels and a forlorn-looking beanbag chair.

That corner was roughly a 2-meter by 2-meter square, extending up to the ceiling.

I focused inward, summoning the [Pocket Dimension S] menu.

Layer 01 was still in Room mode from my rooftop experiments.

The default portal size was 1m x 2m, but I recalled the "Adjustable" option.

"Okay," I murmured, "let's try something new."

I mentally pictured the desired portal, not as a simple door, but as an open-faced cube, precisely 2 meters wide, 2 meters deep, and extending from floor to ceiling, perfectly matching the dimensions of that corner of my room.

I willed Layer 01 to "Open External Access" with these custom dimensions, the 'opening' facing out into my room.

The air in the corner shimmered, then solidified.

It wasn't a hole appearing, but rather the surfaces of the Pocket Dimension (its floor, two walls, and ceiling) superimposing themselves onto the existing physical surfaces of my room's corner.

The 'front face' of this dimensional intrusion remained open, like an invisible fourth wall looking into my room.

Stepping into the now-altered corner, I was effectively inside Layer 01.

The three surfaces around me (the two walls and the floor I now stood on) were the matte grey of the Pocket Dimension.

But looking out through the open 'front' where the portal was, I saw the rest of my room perfectly.

Now for the crucial part.

The novel fragments hinted at advanced manipulations.

I remembered the translucent quality of the portal itself on the rooftop.

Could I make the walls of the Pocket Dimension translucent from the inside, while they remained invisible or camouflaged from the outside?

I focused on the matte grey surfaces of Layer 01 around me.

"Internal Translucency: Active," I willed, pouring intent into the command.

"External Camouflage: Mirror Environment."

There was a subtle shift.

The grey walls of the Pocket Dimension around me became like one-way mirrors.

From inside Layer 01, I could now see through them, directly into the physical walls of my bedroom.

It was disorienting: I was looking at the wallpaper and skirting board of my actual room, but they were overlaid by the faint, ghostly outline of the Pocket Dimension's boundary.

I couldn't pass through them, of course; the dimensional barrier was still there.

But the visibility was uncanny.

It was like being in a glass box pressed into the corner, a box whose walls perfectly mimicked the appearance of the original corner from the outside.

From the perspective of anyone in the main part of my room, the corner would look… empty.

This was because the Pocket Dimension itself was invisible from the outside, except for the open portal face.

Anything inside it, including me, would also be invisible if they were looking at the corner from the rest of the room.

The "Mirror Environment" camouflage meant the exterior-facing surfaces of the Pocket Dimension simply reflected their immediate surroundings, making them blend in seamlessly.

This rendered the dimensional intrusion itself undetectable.

This created a perfect hidden observation post, but not a secure meeting room yet.

The open portal face meant anyone could still see inside if they looked directly into that specific corner area.

"Right," I thought. "The open face needs to look normal."

I stepped back out into the main part of my room, observing the corner.

It now appeared as if the beanbag and graphic novels had simply vanished, leaving an empty section.

My plan was to make this pocketed corner look exactly like it did before.

I began moving the physical beanbag chair and the stack of graphic novels into the Pocket Dimension.

I placed them carefully within its invisible confines, arranging them to mimic their original positions.

From outside, in the main part of my room, as I placed the items inside the now-camouflaged Layer 01, they would appear to be sitting in the corner as they always had.

The "Mirror Environment" camouflage on the Pocket Dimension's exterior made the dimensional space itself unseen.

The items I placed within it were now behind that invisible barrier, yet perfectly visible, as if they were still in the physical room.

The effect was uncanny.

To an outside observer, the corner would look completely normal, furnished as it always was.

But I knew that beanbag and those books were now inside a pocket of space-time, and the corner itself was a hidden entrance to a secure, signal-proof room that offered a one-way view of my bedroom.

The doorbell chimed just as I finished arranging the last graphic novel to perfectly match its previous dusty outline.

Ash.

Ash stood on the doorstep, his expression unreadable as always, but his grey eyes held a flicker of something: keen assessment.

He took in my slightly dishevelled appearance, the tension I couldn't quite mask.

"You look," he stated, his voice neutral, "like you've wrestled with a rather significant existential crisis and the crisis is currently winning by a narrow margin."

He then offered a curt nod. "Lead the way."

As I escorted him up the stairs, I felt his gaze sweep over everything, cataloging, analyzing.

When we reached my room, he paused at the threshold, his head tilting slightly.

His eyes narrowed, not on me, but on the corner I'd just… altered.

My breath caught.

Had he seen the shimmer? Did he somehow sense the spatial anomaly?

"Interesting," Ash murmured, his gaze fixed on the 'normal-looking' corner.

"The floorboards in that section… there are faint, almost imperceptible scuff marks, as if something relatively heavy, like a stack of books or a piece of furniture, was recently dragged away from that exact spot."

"Yet, everything appears to be in its place."

He finally looked at me, a question in his eyes, before stepping inside.

"Curious."

Before I could formulate a response, the doorbell rang again, a more impatient, rapid series of chimes.

Leo and Arya.

Mr. Henderson, their driver, gave a stoic nod from the gleaming black sedan idling at the curb. He, like everyone in the Sterling household, seemed to operate under the unspoken rule that when it involved me, normal rules of attendance and scheduling were… flexible.

Arya swept in first, a bright, almost forced smile on her face, though her eyes, those sharp Sterling blue eyes, were narrowed with concern.

"Rey! Skipping school for a clandestine meeting? How delightfully scandalous! Are we plotting a revolution or just trying to figure out Mr. Evans' cryptic hints about the final exam?"

Her cheerfulness felt like a thin layer of paint over something far more serious.

It was a subtle inversion of their usual roles; normally, Leo was the boisterous one, quick with a joke, while Arya maintained a cooler, more observant demeanor.

Now, Arya seemed to be deliberately injecting lightness, perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation and trying to preemptively diffuse some of the tension she anticipated.

It was a carefully constructed performance, and I knew her well enough to see the effort behind it.

Leo followed, his usual boisterous energy conspicuously absent.

His jaw was tight, his hands clenched lightly at his sides. He looked like a wolf scenting trouble, every nerve on high alert.

His usual easygoing grin was gone, replaced by a taut watchfulness that mirrored the seriousness in Arya's eyes beneath her playful facade.

If Arya was trying to lighten the mood, Leo was a barometer showing just how heavy it truly was.

He bypassed the pleasantries. "What's wrong, Rey? You sounded… bad on the phone."

"Thanks for coming, guys," I said, managing a weak smile. "My room. It's… more private."

As we walked down the hallway, Arya’s gaze flickered around, her earlier vivacity dimming slightly.

"So," she asked, her voice losing some of its forced lightness, "is Rose joining our little study group?"

I felt a pang. "You know the answer to that, Arya," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as we reached my door. "How could I face her, ask for her help, with everything that's happened? With what I…"

I trailed off, unable to voice the full weight of my guilt.

Arya gave me a long, searching look, then a small, enigmatic smile touched her lips. She said nothing.

Leo, walking beside her, just sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken frustration.

Once inside my room, Ash had already seated himself in my desk chair, calmly observing.

Leo immediately started pacing the small space, his restless energy filling the room, while Arya leaned against my bookshelf, arms crossed, her earlier cheerfulness completely gone, replaced by a quiet, watchful intensity.

"Okay," Leo said, stopping his pacing abruptly. "What's so important it pulled us all out of school?"

Before I could speak, Ash, who had been idly tapping at his phone, looked up.

"No signal," he announced, his voice flat. "None at all. My phone’s completely dead in here. Same with the tablet."

"It’s not just cell service; Wi-Fi is non-responsive, Bluetooth fails to connect. This room is a complete dead zone."

His eyes held a neutral, questioning gaze that still felt unnervingly perceptive.

Leo and Arya pulled out their own phones, expressions of surprise dawning.

"Mine too," Leo confirmed.

Arya just nodded, her eyes flicking towards the 'normal' corner, then to me.

"Highly unusual. Like a Faraday cage, but more… thorough."

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Ash, with his characteristic keen observation, had immediately registered the dead zone for what it was: a sophisticated signal-blocking effect, far beyond simple "old wiring."

It made sense; if this corner of the room was now literally a separate space, it wouldn't be surprising if Earth-based signals couldn't penetrate it. An inherent property of being 'elsewhere,' perhaps, and an inconveniently noticeable one.

"That's… weird," I said, trying to sound casual, my earlier confidence wavering under their scrutiny. "Must be the old wiring in this house. Anyway, I have something really important to tell you all."

I needed to divert them, quickly.

I took a deep breath and laid it all out: Iris’s secret life as Stellaris, the devoted fanbase, the fateful stream where she’d lost her temper, the user she’d clashed with, the terrifying doxxing and threats from the user’s supposed parent, the pictures, the demands, her desperate plan to leave to protect us.

I watched their faces as I spoke, gauging their reactions.

When I finished, a heavy silence filled the room. Leo had stopped pacing and was staring at the floor, his fists clenched. Arya’s expression was a mixture of shock and a fierce, protective anger. Ash, as always, was harder to read, his gaze distant as if processing complex data.

I fidgeted, the silence stretching, my anxiety mounting. What if they thought Iris was to blame? What if they didn’t want to get involved?

Arya broke the silence first, a slow whistle escaping her lips. She pushed herself off the bookshelf, a disbelieving smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "Just… wow."

"Iris. A Vtuber. And a famous one, at that. I mean, I knew she was capable, driven, but… Stellaris? That’s… a shocker." Her tone, surprisingly light, managed to dispel some of the oppressive gloom.

Leo looked up, a flicker of something like awe in his eyes. "Stellaris? That Stellaris? No way!"

"I’ve watched her streams! She’s hilarious! And yeah, super energetic." He ran a hand through his hair. "Man, I even bought some of her merch for a cousin’s birthday. But… Iris? That personality shift is… wild. I had no idea she had that side to her. Princess Starlight, huh?" A reminiscent smile touched his lips.

Ash, who had been silently scribbling in his ever-present notebook, finally looked up.

"It does provide a certain logical consistency," he mused, tapping his pen against the page. "When I was assisting her with Student Council duties, President Iris was… remarkably serious. Almost to a fault."

"This 'Stellaris' persona, this engagement with a more playful, performative identity, could very well have been a necessary outlet, a way to vent the pressures of that highly controlled public image."

He made another note. "Fascinating psychological dichotomy. Excellent material."

Their reactions, so devoid of judgment, so focused on the unexpected revelation of Iris’s secret life rather than any blame, sent a wave of relief through me.

Then, the mood shifted.

"I understand now why you called us, Rey," Arya said, her voice dropping, the earlier surprise replaced by a steely resolve. Her eyes met mine, full of grim understanding. "This is… a nightmare for her. For you all."

"This must be incredibly tough for you, man," Leo added, his gaze steady and serious. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re here. Whatever you need."

Ash closed his notebook with a quiet snap. "The emotional distress this individual is inflicting upon your sister, and by extension your family, is considerable. The situation is untenable. We will assist."

"Thanks, guys," I said, a genuine smile finally breaking through my worry. "That… that means a lot."

Ash steepled his fingers. "The stalker’s primary advantage lies in the asymmetry of information. He operates from the shadows, possessing knowledge about Iris and your family that you lack about him. Our first objective must be to bridge that informational divide."

"I was thinking the same thing," I said, pulling Iris’s phone from my pocket. "I have her login details. We can go through her emails, her chat logs, everything."

We huddled around my desk, Iris’s phone connected to my laptop, the stark, threatening emails displayed on the larger screen. The playful chat logs from her fans stood in stark contrast to the chilling precision of the stalker's messages.

Arya leaned closer, her brow furrowed as she scrolled through the chat transcript from the infamous stream.

"This is… weird," she murmured, pointing to a section of the log.

"Look at this user, 'StarBrightSeeker6'. Her earlier comments, for weeks, are all super positive, almost sycophantic. 'Stellaris, you’re the best!' 'Love your energy!' Then, that one stream… boom."

Her finger traced the abusive messages Iris had described. "'You're so fake.' 'Sad and bitter.'"

"It’s like a completely different person suddenly took over the account. The syntax, the tone… it’s jarringly different."

"The abusive messages are more mature, more articulate, more cutting. The earlier ones are almost childishly enthusiastic."

"How can someone switch like that?" Leo asked, shaking his head. "From sweet and supportive to… that venom? It doesn’t make sense."

"I think it's clear we are observing two distinct authorial voices," Ash stated, peering at the screen.

"The shift is too abrupt, too fundamental, to be a mere mood swing. The 'attacker' persona uses more complex vocabulary, different sentence structures."

"I thought so too," I said. "If Iris hadn't been so blindsided by the attack, so overwhelmed by her own anger and then the fear, she probably would have noticed that discrepancy herself."

"It could, theoretically, be a single individual with a severe dissociative episode," Ash conceded, "but Occam’s Razor suggests two separate entities operating the account sequentially."

"Then we have the stalker, the author of these emails." He gestured to the threatening messages. "The critical question is whether we are dealing with one, two, or three characters. The father, the daughter, and potentially a third party controlling the initial 'sweet' persona, or some combination thereof."

"You think the two personalities in the chat and the stalker might be the same person?" I asked, trying to follow his logic.

"Unlikely for all three to be one, but it remains a remote possibility," Ash replied. "If I were to posit a more probable scenario, I would suggest two primary actors: the daughter, with the innocent personality, and the father, the stalker, acting in perceived retribution."

Arya tapped the first email from the stalker. "You’re thinking of this, aren’t you, Ash? 'You will regret what you did to my child.' It’s almost an explicit statement of motive and identity."

"Precisely," Ash confirmed. "The simplest interpretation is that the parent is the stalker. It is… conceivable, the parent might also orchestrated the initial online attack through the daughter’s account to precipitate this crisis, but that is pure speculation. We lack data to support such a complex machination."

Leo slammed a fist lightly on the desk. "But how could a parent do that? Cause their own kid so much pain, get them doxxed and harassed, and then blame someone else for it? That’s twisted. I want to believe it’s not true."

"The photos are key," I added, pointing to one of Iris through her bedroom window. "That's close. Too close for comfort. He had to be on our property, or very near it, to get that angle. And the one of Mom and Dad at the grocery store… he knew their routine."

Ash made a note. "The perpetrator exhibits classic signs of obsessive behavior. They see themselves as a righteous avenger. Their actions are, in their mind, justified. The demand for Iris to 'disappear' is about control, about inflicting a punishment they deem fitting."

"We need a plan of attack," I said, the urgency pressing in on me. "We can’t just sit here and analyze."

Arya’s eyes lit up, a predatory gleam I recognized from her more competitive moments.

"I think," she said slowly, her gaze fixed on the email demanding Iris cease all activity, "I know how we can draw him out. How we can make him make a mistake."

"The stream," I said, understanding immediately. "He demanded she stop. If Stellaris goes live…"

"Exactly," Arya confirmed. "Going directly against his explicit demands will enrage him. It will force him to react, to move."

"Hold on," Leo interjected, his brow furrowed with concern. "That’s deliberately poking the bear. What about calling the police? That seems like the safest, most logical first step."

Ash nodded. "Objectively, involving law enforcement remains the most prudent course of action."

"However," he added, his gaze thoughtful, "the stalker has demonstrated a degree of sophistication. He may have already prepared for that contingency, established plausible deniability. A premature police intervention might simply make him more cautious, more dangerous, without yielding actionable evidence."

"I disagree," I said firmly.

The memory of Iris’s lifeless body flashed in my mind, fueling a cold resolve.

"There's another solution. A more direct one."

Leo’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "I know that tone, Rey. You’re talking about confronting him yourself, aren’t you?"

Arya’s breath hitched. "Rey, no! That’s far too dangerous. We don’t know what he’s capable of."

"It is dangerous," I admitted, my gaze unwavering. "But so is the status quo. So is letting him dictate our lives through fear. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Don't worry," I added, trying to sound reassuring, "I’ll handle the confrontation alone. If it gets too risky, I can…" I stopped myself before I mentioned [Save & Load].

Leo moved so fast I barely registered it. He surged forward, his hand shooting out, grabbing the front of my shirt, yanking me violently towards him.

His face was inches from mine, his blue eyes blazing with anger.

"Don't you ever say something that stupid again, Rey!" he snarled, his voice tight with raw emotion, shaking me hard. "Nobody here is abandoning their friend to face a maniac alone! You think we’re cowards?"

Arya was beside him in an instant, her hand on his arm, though her eyes, fixed on me, echoed his fierce sentiment. "He's right, Rey. We're in this together. All of us."

Ash, from his chair, simply nodded once, a silent affirmation that was more potent than any words.

The force of their loyalty, their unwavering solidarity, hit me harder than Leo’s grip. Shame washed over me, hot and sharp.

"I… I'm sorry," I choked out, the words inadequate. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it like… like you were afraid. I just… I don't want any of you hurt because of me, because of my family."

Deep down, the thought of reloading if they were in danger was a constant, selfish whisper, a burden I didn't know how to share.

The tension in the room, though still thick, shifted. Leo slowly released his grip on my shirt, his breathing still ragged, but the fury in his eyes softened into a bruised concern.

I straightened my collar, the imprint of his fingers a stark reminder of his words.

"Okay," Arya said, her voice regaining its composure, though a steely edge remained. "So, if we’re doing this, we do it smart. You mentioned luring him out with a stream, Rey. How do we ensure we have the advantage when he takes the bait?"

"We turn Stellaris’s return into a direct challenge," she elaborated, her eyes bright with a strategist’s focus. "Iris goes live. But not just a normal stream."

"She needs to weave in a message, something subtle, a critique that only he would understand, given the context of his threats and his 'child.' Something that questions his righteousness, his control."

"It needs to be a direct dare, designed to enrage him, to make him act impulsively."

I nodded, a grim sense of relief settling in. With this plan, I wouldn't need to explain how I knew the stalker would likely attack today. If he appeared, they'd assume Arya's bait had worked perfectly, perhaps even more quickly than anticipated.

"That could work. He’s clearly unstable. A direct taunt might push him over the edge."

Ash, however, leaned forward, his expression skeptical. "A provocative strategy, certainly. But consider the endgame. You enrage a 'mad person,' as you put it, Rey. He appears. Then what?"

"Leo, your martial arts prowess is considerable, as is Rey's. But against an unknown assailant, potentially armed… a firearm, for instance, renders physical skill a far less reliable defense."

My mind raced. Ash was right. If the stalker had a weapon…

But then, a flicker of reassurance: the ten-meter operational range of [Pocket Dimension S]. If he got close enough, I could neutralize the weapon, snatch it into storage. The problem was doing it without revealing my abilities.

But if my friends’ lives were on the line, secrecy can go to hell.

"That might be true," Leo countered, his jaw set. "But if we ambush him, if we control the engagement, the initiative is ours. He won't be expecting a confrontation."

"An ambush relies on him being alone," Ash pointed out, his tone dry. "We have no data to support that assumption. He could have accomplices. Always prepare for the worst-case scenario. Ambushing multiple armed individuals is… ill-advised."

Arya tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Then we add another layer. Surveillance. We wire the house, or at least the key access points. Cameras, microphones."

"If he shows up, we assess. If he’s alone and we clearly have the tactical advantage, we proceed. If he has backup, or if the situation looks too volatile, we disengage, fall back."

"But what about your parents, Rey?" Leo interjected, a practical concern creasing his brow. "Even if Iris is 'moving out,' they'll be here. We can't exactly set up a high-tech ambush with them in the next room making tea."

Arya’s lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. "That," she said, "is where a little well-intentioned misdirection comes in."

"This stalker is clearly focused on Iris, on her supposed transgressions. Your parents, Rey, are leverage, collateral damage in his eyes."

"If Iris is ostensibly leaving, and her departure is… accelerated, shall we say, the immediate perceived threat to them might lessen in his twisted logic. And if they were to be conveniently, and quite happily, occupied elsewhere…"

She paused, a glint in her eye. "Your parents' anniversary, Rey. When is it exactly?"

I frowned slightly, trying to recall. "End of July, I think? The 28th or 29th? Why?"

Arya’s smile widened. "Perfect. Not even close. That gives us plausible deniability for a charmingly 'bungled' surprise."

She turned to Leo. "Brother dear, remember how Mom was mentioning that your parents, Rey, were talking about that renowned coastal spa retreat for their next anniversary? The one with the private beach bungalows?"

Leo nodded, his expression serious and supportive. "Absolutely. Your mom was saying how they’ve dreamed of going there for years, Rey, but it’s always booked solid, practically a lottery to get in. She said it was their ultimate 'someday' trip." He gave a subtle, affirming glance towards Arya.

"Exactly," Arya continued smoothly, her expression a picture of innocent enthusiasm. "So, picture this: Two incredibly thoughtful, if slightly overeager, young family friends hear about this dream."

"And, in our boundless affection and perhaps a touch of youthful impetuousness, we decide to make it happen for them… a little early. We 'misremembered' the date, thinking it was, oh, let's say, this week."

She beamed. "I know that exact coastal spa retreat, the one with the impossible waiting list. But, funnily enough, a 'last-minute cancellation' just opened up their most exclusive private bungalow. Ocean views, personal chef, therapeutic soaks… the works. All expenses paid, non-refundable, and starting tonight."

Leo leaned forward, his tone earnest and persuasive, as if addressing Rey's parents directly. "Look, we know we probably jumped the gun on the date, Mr. and Mrs. Amaranth, but when a spot like that opens up, you just have to grab it, right? Especially knowing how much you wanted it."

"Think of it as… an extremely enthusiastic pre-anniversary celebration. It’s all arranged!"

"They'll be so touched by our 'mistake' and the sheer extravagance of the gesture, they won't ask too many questions," Arya said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Mr. Henderson can arrange a discreet car service. They’ll chalk it up to us being sweet but a bit scatterbrained with dates, and frankly, overwhelmed by the generosity."

"It ensures their safety, removes them from the immediate vicinity, and gives us a clear field."

Ash, who had been observing their performance with a flicker of amusement, commented, "A well-constructed fiction. The emotional appeal of the gesture, coupled with the exclusivity of the purported opportunity, will likely override any logical queries regarding the timing."

"It minimizes variables and potential civilian casualties, so to speak."

"And," she added, a shrewd glint in her eye, "all that lovely footage becomes irrefutable proof for the police, should it come to that."

"Installing all that will take time," I said, the unspoken knowledge of the day's limited span pressing down on me. "We don't have much."

Leo grinned, a flash of his usual confidence returning. "That, my friend, is the easiest problem to solve."

Arya mirrored his smile. "One phone call," she said, already reaching for her phone. "I can have a professional crew here, discreet and efficient. They'll have this place looking like a spy movie set in under an hour."

"Army of professionals, Rey. They do this for a living, often for people who value… privacy."

Ah, the power of money, I thought, a wry internal commentary. It truly is a scary, and occasionally very useful, thing.

Ash let out a slow breath. "I maintain that this course of action carries significant, unpredictable risks. Many variables must align perfectly for a favorable outcome."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over us. "However, there are moments when the potential rewards of decisive action outweigh the inherent dangers of passivity. This appears to be one such moment."

Leo clapped Ash on the shoulder. "Well said, Ash, you always nail it! I know going up against some psycho stalker is scary."

"But you know what’s scarier? Doing nothing. Standing by and letting this happen, and then living with that regret for the rest of our lives."

Arya nodded, her expression serious. "The plan is taking shape. But everything hinges on Iris."

"She’s the star of this show, the one who has to step back into the spotlight, knowing who’s watching."

Her gaze met mine, a question in her eyes. "After everything she’s been through… can she do it?"

I thought of Iris, of the fierce defiance that had finally broken through her terror. I remembered the little girl who’d shared her Dune picture book with a silent boy, and the young woman who’d found her voice again through stories.

"I know her," I said, my voice filled with a conviction that surprised even myself. "When she needs to, Iris can summon a courage, a persistence, that’s unmatched. I believe in her."