Chapter 7: Day 1 β Part 3

The air in my room still hummed with the nervous energy of our new plan.

Leo, always antsy, was already halfway out the door. “Right, let’s get this spa thing sorted. And the gear. Time to move.”

Arya followed, pausing at my doorway. "Looks like Ash has found something, Rey," she said, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as she glanced back at him.

"Let him focus. Call us if you need anything before we get back with the… things we need for our setup." She waved and then she was gone.

“Will do,” I said, a wave of gratitude, sharp and clear, cutting through the dread. “Thanks, guys.”

Their footsteps faded down the hall. I turned back to my desk.

Ash hadn’t budged, his gaze locked on the laptop screen displaying the gallery of the stalker’s photos. He scrolled slowly, zooming in on minute details, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, completely absorbed.

“Ash?” I asked quietly. “You’re still looking. What is it? What’d you find?”

Ash finally looked up, his grey eyes sharp. He pointed to a surprisingly clear shot of Iris walking down the street, her expression unguarded, then to another, taken from a considerable distance but still remarkably crisp, capturing her mid-laugh with a friend.

“The meticulous detail in these photographs,” he began, his voice low and even. “Observe the timestamps—they are precise, almost unnervingly regular, indicating a systematic surveillance pattern, not random opportunistic snapshots.”

"I noticed that too," I said, leaning in closer to the screen. "Like he was following a schedule, almost."

Ash nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly. The clarity is also highly significant."

"Even images captured from a distance, or in suboptimal lighting conditions, maintain sharp focus on the subject, with minimal motion blur. This strongly suggests the use of professional-grade camera equipment, likely a high-powered telephoto lens, and a steady hand, possibly aided by a tripod or monopod."

Leo, who’d apparently lingered by the doorframe, drawn back by Ash’s tone, leaned in, his usual boisterous energy subdued, replaced by a frown of concentration.

"Yeah, they feel… cold," he cut in, his voice rougher than usual. "Too perfect. Almost like… evidence, not just creepy snaps. They give me the creeps."

Ash acknowledged Leo with a curt nod, his expression unchanged. "Precisely. That inherent 'coldness,' as you term it, is indicative of a practiced, dispassionate approach."

"There are no amateur errors, no accidental reflections, no awkward framing. This is not the work of a hobbyist."

“So, someone who really knows their stuff,” I murmured, the words heavy with a new layer of unease.

It made a horrible kind of sense. The stalker in the other, erased timeline had been so brutally efficient, had gotten so terrifyingly close. This level of skill, this chilling professionalism, explained how.

My own newly acquired powers, capable of reshaping reality itself, suddenly felt out of sync, almost too fantastical, when faced with the grounded, methodical threat posed by this unseen, professional menace.Arya’s voice, softer now, drifted from the hallway; she’d clearly paused again, her earlier lightness gone.

“So, not just an angry dad with a blurry phone camera,” she said, her tone reflecting a grim understanding. “This is… planned. Methodical. Like a hunt.”

She always had a knack for cutting to the emotional core of a situation.

Ash looked back at the screen, then at me, his expression somber. “Indeed. The objective was precise and professional information gathering."

"The level of tradecraft strongly points to a trained professional. The father, then, almost certainly commissioned this surveillance, I can guess it’s a private detective or someone in the same line of work. He is highly unlikely to be the individual physically taking these photographs.”

I nodded slowly, the serious implications of his deduction becoming clear.. “It all fits. That’s why Iris felt so trapped, so utterly exposed.”

Ash’s cold, hard logic, reinforced by Leo’s gut feeling and Arya’s intuitive insight, solidified the threat, making it feel even more real, more dangerously competent.

Ash's chilling deduction that the stalker had employed professional surveillance landed like a physical blow. It stripped away any remaining illusions that they were dealing with a lone, unsophisticated individual; this was a campaign with serious resources behind it. The shift in the room was palpable, but it was Arya who reacted first, her usual easy grace overlaid with a sudden, sharp focus as she pushed herself off my bookshelf.

"Alright," Arya said, pushing off the bookshelf, her usual easy grace instantly sharpening into a coolly formidable demeanor.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with a new, sharp purpose as she tapped a contact.

"This is Sterling." Her voice was colder now, deeper than usual.

"I require immediate action. A discreet deployment to a residential location. Full environmental sweep and counter-surveillance installation." Every word was sharp and clear in the quiet room.

"Your operational standards are zero trace, maximum efficiency, and absolute silence. Time is critical; the results are not open to discussion. The previously agreed premium for priority services is authorized."

Though her voice was steady, there was a hard edge to it, a tone that left no room for argument.

Arya listened, her gaze fixed, her stillness radiating an unspoken command.

Then, a curt, "Understood. Provide your estimated time for completion upon arrival."

She ended the call with a decisive tap, the click of her phone loud in the sudden silence.

Leo just smirked, a dry chuckle escaping him.

Ash, observing with his usual quiet intensity, gave a rare, almost imperceptible upturn of his lips. "Clarity compels. Persuasion takes time."

I just blinked, a little stunned by the transformation. "'Agreed premium'? 'Results not open to discussion'? Arya, who exactly did you just call?"

Leo snorted. "Oh, you know," he said, a grin playing on his lips as he glanced at his sister. "She's just been practicing her Don Corleone, I swear. Probably has a whole monologue about offers you can't refuse rehearsed."

That was all the prompting Arya needed. The formidable aura receded, replaced by a theatrical glint in her eye.

She straightened, puffed her cheeks slightly, and her voice dropped into a gravelly rasp, one hand gesturing magnanimously.

"My dear Rey, my cherished friends," she intoned, perfectly mimicking the iconic Don Corleone, "you come to me, on this day, the day of my… well, not my daughter's wedding, but a day of great import nonetheless! And you ask me for a service."

"And I, being a woman of… influence… I make them an offer they cannot refuse."

She held the pose for another second, then her shoulders shook, and a peal of laughter escaped her. "Okay, okay, too much?" she grinned, her voice instantly lighter. "Got a bit carried away there."

"Relax, guys. They're just highly specialized security consultants. Dad uses them for super-sensitive film locations sometimes, when discretion is paramount. They're incredibly good, and incredibly discreet."

The sudden shift from her icy command to the over-the-top Godfather impression was so absurd that the tension that had been coiling in my chest finally loosened its grip.

"The Don Sterling," I chuckled, feeling the knot in my chest finally unwind. "I don't know whether to be terrified or impressed."

"Both!" Leo roared his laughter infectious. "Definitely both! Did you see Ash's face? I think he was taking notes!"

Ash adjusted his glasses, a rare, clear smile touching his lips. "One observation at a time make my characters shine"

"Okay, okay, I get it, Don Arya," Leo said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Just… try not to send anyone to sleep with the fishes if they're late, alright?"

"No promises," Arya shot back, her eyes sparkling, the formidable edge completely gone, replaced by her usual playful confidence.

The air in the room felt lighter, as if her ridiculous performance had cleared some of the oppressive gloom. For a moment, we were just four friends, joking around, the terrifying reality momentarily held at bay.

"Okay, good," I said, the laughter subsiding but leaving a welcome warmth.

I glanced around my room, the earlier unease about its security returning, sharpened now by Ash’s deductions and Arya’s call. "Because, uh, I think we should probably wait for them outside. Just in case."

I didn't voice my sudden, sharp suspicion that the house itself might already be compromised, that the stalker's 'professional' might have planted listening devices.

No need to make everyone more anxious, and a part of me thought they might already suspect it too, given Ash’s findings and their own quick agreement.

"Good call," Leo agreed immediately, the humor fading from his face as the gravity of our situation reasserted itself. "Fresh air sounds good. This room’s getting a bit… intense."

We trooped out, Ash giving the ‘normal’ corner one last, thoughtful glance before following; I swear he found something about the invisible Room, or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Down the stairs and out the front door we went, settling on the porch steps, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the lawn. The suburban quiet felt almost mocking, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within our small group.

The corner! My Pocket Dimension portal in my room!

I’d left it open, camouflaged, with the beanbag and books nestled inside it. The ten-meter operational range… I was definitely more than ten meters away from it now, out here on the porch.

Had it collapsed? Vanished? Were my beanbag and graphic novels now strewn haphazardly across my bedroom floor, the carefully constructed illusion shattered?

My heart hammered against my ribs. I subtly closed my eyes, feigning a moment of thoughtful listening to Leo’s animated tale, while inwardly, desperately, I focused, summoning the mental interface for [Pocket Dimension S].

To my astonishment, and immense relief, Layer 01 was still listed as:

Layer 01: [Mode: Room (Active - Portal Open: Custom Cube)] [Internal Translucency: Active] [External Camouflage: Mirror Environment]
Contents: Beanbag chair, Graphic Novels (approx. 0.5 m³)]

It was still active. The portal was still open, exactly as I’d left it.

But how? I was easily fifteen, maybe twenty meters away from my bedroom.

Then it clicked, a sudden, startling moment of clarity.

The ten-meter rule… it must apply to initiating actions: opening a portal, closing it, or actively changing its settings like size or camouflage.

But once a portal was already open, it seemed to remain stable, a persistent tear in reality, and the dimension was still accessible through that existing opening, regardless of my proximity to the portal's original point of creation.

The connection to the dimension itself was stable as long as the doorway existed and I didn't mentally command it to shut or alter.

My mind reeled with the implications. This wasn't just about having a hidden corner in my room anymore. This meant I could potentially:

Create fixed, hidden entrances almost anywhere. I could open a portal in a discreet spot, an unused locker at school, a hidden alcove in an abandoned building, even deep in the woods, and just leave it open. As long as no one found or disturbed the opening itself, I could come back hours, maybe even days later, from miles away, and still access that Layer of the Pocket Dimension. It transformed the dimension from a merely personal, portable space into a potential network of secret bases or strategically placed supply drops.

Set up remote viewing points. If I could configure the inside of an open portal to see out (like how my corner portal allowed me to view my room from within its confines), I could potentially place a tiny, camouflaged portal somewhere and observe that location from a safe distance. I could be here, on my porch, and theoretically see what was happening in an entirely different place through a hidden dimensional window.

Interact with items from afar, albeit with limitations. If an open portal stayed accessible, could I, if I could see it or sense its location through [Third Eye A], toss something into that opening from more than ten meters away? Or mentally retrieve an item resting just inside its threshold? That would be a huge advantage for moving things discreetly or accessing something important without having to be physically present at the portal's edge.

The 10-meter limit wasn't a restrictive leash keeping me tethered to the room once its door was open; it was more like a key, needed only to unlock or modify the door itself.

The thought was staggering. This dramatically expanded what [Pocket Dimension S] could do, far beyond just a personal hidey-hole.

It was like having a set of invisible, magic doors I could place almost anywhere, giving me a whole new level of strategic options in the dangerous game we were about to play.

The laughter from Arya’s Godfather impression had barely faded when the familiar rumble of my parents’ car turning into the driveway sent a fresh jolt of adrenaline through our group.

"Showtime," Arya murmured, a flicker of her earlier business-like intensity returning, though her eyes still held a mischievous spark. She gave Leo a quick, subtle nod.

Leo straightened up, attempting to look less like he'd just been rolling with laughter and more like a concerned, responsible young adult. Ash, ever composed, simply adjusted his glasses, his expression a perfect mask of neutrality.

My parents, Lily and John Amaranth, came through the front door a moment later, arms laden with groceries, their faces etched with the usual end-of-day weariness that quickly morphed into surprise at the sight of us all gathered on their porch.

"Well, hello everyone!" Mom said, her eyebrows arching in amusement. "What's all this? A welcoming committee?"

Dad chuckled, setting his bags down. "Looks like we've crashed a party. Shouldn't you all be… well, not here?" He glanced at his watch. "School let out hours ago."

This was it. Our carefully rehearsed performance.

Strike one.

"Oh, we had a, uh, special project presentation, Mr. Amaranth," Leo jumped in, a little too quickly, his voice a shade too bright and eager. "It finished up early, and we all decided to come over to Rey's to decompress. It was pretty intense."

Arya nodded smoothly, her expression a perfect blend of relief and accomplishment. "Professor Davies was incredibly impressed. We think we aced it. Rey was amazing, by the way."

Ash simply stood by, his expression unreadable as always. Yet, his calm, almost scholarly presence among Leo's and Arya's more animated explanations seemed to subtly validate their story, His quiet, almost studious stillness seemed to project an unspoken assurance: 'Indeed, a perfectly routine academic endeavor. Nothing more to see here.' It made their tale, against all odds, feel marginally more plausible.

I tried to look vaguely surprised by the gathering of my friends, not by my parents' presence. "Yeah, it was a… group effort. Glad it's over."

Mom, a perceptive woman whose editorial instincts rarely failed her, narrowed her eyes slightly, a thoughtful frown touching her lips.

But then Arya stepped forward, beaming, holding up an elegantly designed, expensive-looking brochure with practiced flair.

"Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Amaranth," Arya began, her voice radiating infectious enthusiasm, "we have a surprise for you! A very, very big surprise!"

Leo bounced on the balls of his feet beside her, his grin wide. "The biggest! You won't believe it!"

Mom and Dad exchanged a bewildered look, setting their remaining groceries down on the porch swing.

"A surprise?" Mom asked, a hesitant smile playing on her lips, her earlier scrutiny momentarily forgotten.

Arya flourished the brochure like a magician revealing her prize. "We know your anniversary is coming up…"

"It's in July, dear," Mom corrected gently, though her eyes were now fixed on the glossy images of pristine beaches and luxurious spa rooms.

Arya’s smile didn’t falter. "Right! Well, we… uh… we might have gotten a little overexcited with the planning and… well, we sort of booked your dream getaway a little early! Consider it an… ultra-early celebration!"

She presented the brochure with a flourish. "The Serenity Cove Spa Retreat! Private beach bungalow, ocean views, gourmet meals, therapeutic soaks… the works! All expenses paid, non-refundable, and starting… tonight!"

A stunned silence descended, broken only by the chirping of crickets from the garden.

"Tonight?" Dad finally managed, looking from the brochure to us, then back to Mom, his expression a mixture of disbelief and dawning delight. "Serenity Cove? But… that place is booked years in advance. How on earth…?"

Strike two.

The bait was taken.

Mom was frowning now, a thoughtful, slightly suspicious line between her brows, though the allure of the brochure was clearly working its magic. "This is incredibly generous, children, truly. But… Arya, Leo, usually it’s your parents who orchestrate these grand… gestures."

She chose her words carefully, her editor’s mind clearly analyzing the narrative we were presenting. "This is quite out of the blue for you all to arrange something of this magnitude."

"Well, Mom and Dad have been so swamped with that new film production," Leo said, his earnestness almost believable, his eyes wide and sincere. "And we heard you talking about how much you wanted to go, for ages!"

"We just… we wanted to do something really special for you ourselves, you know? Show our appreciation for everything you do for Rey, and for us!"

Arya nodded vigorously, her expression alight with youthful enthusiasm. "And you won't believe it – Dad has a connection at Serenity Cove, and he heard about a super last-minute cancellation for their best bungalow! He knew how much you wanted to go, so he just… snapped it up for you! A little pre-anniversary treat from all of us!"

Strike three. The final pitch.

Dad rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp but also softening as he looked at our eager faces. "But you didn't… run this by Rey? Our son? To, say, confirm the actual date of our anniversary before booking a non-refundable, ultra-exclusive spa retreat?"

The air felt tight. My own heart was hammering against my ribs. This was the critical moment.

Arya clasped her hands together, looking the picture of slightly flustered but well-meaning youth. "Oh, Mr. Amaranth, that was the point! We wanted it to be a complete surprise for everyone, even Rey!"

"We figured if he knew, he might accidentally let it slip to Mrs. Amaranth, and where’s the fun in that? We were aiming for maximum… impact! Total shock and awe!"

Ash, with impeccable timing, added, his voice a calm counterpoint to Arya's exuberance, "They wanted to ensure it was a genuine surprise for both of you."

Mom opened her mouth, a new question clearly forming, her expression still a mixture of touched and deeply skeptical. I could see her about to ask why we were all conveniently here, out of school, to deliver this "surprise" in person on a random weekday afternoon.

But before she could voice it, Dad laid a gentle hand on her arm.

He caught her eye, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his expression, a slight softening around his own eyes, a tiny, private signal passing between them. It was a look I’d seen before.

He was telling her, silently, to let it go, to trust the kids, to accept the gesture at face value, however unorthodox the delivery.

He turned back to us, a slow, warm smile spreading across his face, banishing the last of my anxieties.

"Well, Lily," he said, his voice laced with affection, "a surprise is a surprise! And who are we to look a gift horse—or rather, a gift spa—in the mouth?" He winked at Arya and Leo. "Especially when it's Serenity Cove. We’ve dreamed of that place."

Mom looked from Dad to us, the skepticism in her eyes slowly replaced by a resigned, affectionate amusement. She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head.

"You children… you are absolutely incorrigible. And incredibly sweet, even if your timing is… creatively interpreted."

She picked up the brochure, a genuine smile finally blooming as she traced the image of a sun-drenched balcony overlooking a turquoise sea. "Tonight, you say?"

"Mr. Henderson is already on his way to pick you up!" Arya chirped, relief evident in her voice, her own smile dazzling. "You'll need to pack a bag! Think swimwear and relaxation!"

As my parents, still looking slightly dazed but also undeniably excited by the prospect of their unexpected luxury escape, hurried inside to pack, a wave of relief so profound it was almost dizzying washed over me.

They hadn’t bought the whole story, not really. I could see it in the way Dad had looked at Mom, in the lingering questions in Mom's eyes even as she smiled.

They knew something was up, something more than just an extravagantly early anniversary gift. But they trusted us.

They were playing along, choosing to believe in our good intentions, or perhaps sensing the unspoken urgency beneath our elaborate charade.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Phase one was complete.

The black, unmarked van pulled up less than fifteen minutes after my parents’ discreetly chauffeured car had whisked them away towards their 'surprise' spa retreat.

Three figures, clad in dark, practical clothing, emerged with an air of quiet, purposeful efficiency. They were not imposing in stature, but their movements were economical, precise, and they carried several unassuming but clearly specialized equipment cases.

Ash, who had been observing the street with his usual focused stillness, straightened almost imperceptibly. "They're here."

The lead operative, a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes, gave a curt nod to Arya. "Sterling. We're ready to deploy."

Arya gestured to the house. "We suspect it might already be compromised. Active surveillance."

"Understood," the operative replied. "Standard counter-sweep protocols will be initiated."

Her team fanned out, one heading towards the back of the house. Another operative began a slow, methodical circuit of the exterior with a handheld device that hummed faintly, its small screen displaying fluctuating graphs and data streams.

Ash, his gaze fixed intently on the device and its readings, moved closer, his expression one of deep concentration, as if deciphering a complex new language.

Leo whistled softly. "What is that thing doing?"

Before the operative with the device could answer, Ash murmured, almost to himself but loud enough for us and the lead operative to hear, "Fascinating. It's detecting faint, heavily encrypted signal leakage around the property's periphery."

"Consistent patterns, not random. And those spikes correlate with… localized packet loss from the public cell tower data for this block over recent weeks."

"It's not just active now; they've been listening for a while, using sophisticated methods." His eyes flicked up to meet the lead operative's.

The lead operative, who had been observing Ash's rapid-fire analysis, raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise in her professional gaze.

"You read that off the raw telemetry?" she asked, her tone betraying her impressiveness.

"The data patterns are indicative," Ash replied calmly.

Leo looked from Ash to the operative. "So, he's right? This psycho’s IT guy did bug the place?"

The lead operative nodded slowly, her eyes still on Ash with a new respect. "His assessment is… remarkably accurate."

"It appears we're dealing with professional-grade, ongoing surveillance. The level of encryption and the historical data correlation he picked up on suggests a very thorough opponent. We'll need to adjust our sweep parameters accordingly."

She then continued with her instructions to her team, but her occasional glance towards Ash now held a different quality.

The lead operative nodded slowly, her eyes still on Ash with a new respect. "His assessment is… remarkably accurate."

"It appears we're dealing with professional-grade, ongoing surveillance. The level of encryption and the historical data correlation he picked up on suggests a very thorough opponent. We'll need to adjust our sweep parameters accordingly."

She turned to her team, her voice crisp and efficient. "Alright, people, new intel. Assume high-level intrusion. Standard sweep won't cut it."

"Prioritize identifying any active transmissions and their sources before full physical sweep. Johnson, focus your initial scan on common smart device vulnerabilities – TVs, hubs, anything networked. Miller, perimeter integrity and external line taps first. Let's move."

Her team acknowledged with curt nods and fanned out, their movements even more precise and focused than before.

The operative named Johnson, the younger man with keen eyes, headed directly for the living room window, his device already active.

The lead operative herself paused by the same window, her gaze no longer just sweeping, but hunting, meticulously dissecting the visible interior, informed by Ash's analysis and the likely sophistication of their adversary.

Then, something specific caught her attention.

She beckoned Ash closer. He moved with his usual quiet intensity, his interest clearly piqued.

She pointed to a tiny, almost invisible anomaly on the exterior window sill, something that looked like a fleck of dirt to my untrained eye.

“This is professional grade,” she murmured, her voice low, using a specialized, pen-like tool to gently dislodge a listening device smaller than a fingernail. “Military-spec, almost. Someone’s had this place under serious, ongoing surveillance for some time. Very clean install. Amateurs wouldn't have this."

My stomach clenched. It confirmed Ash's suspicions and my worst fears. The stalker wasn't just watching Iris; he was watching all of us, deeply.

The operative, perhaps sensing a different quality of attention from Ash, the focused intensity of someone who might understand the nuances of what she was doing, rather than just the fear of what she might find, glanced up.

Her gaze met Ash’s. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgement of his more discerning observation.

"You have an eye for detail," she commented, not unkindly. She then produced a thin, metallic card from a discreet pocket.

"Vector Security Solutions. If your interests ever lean towards applied digital forensics or proactive threat mitigation, we occasionally consult with… promising talent."

Ash took the card, a flicker of genuine interest in his usually impassive eyes. "An intriguing proposition. I will retain this for consideration."

Leo, who'd sidled up, grinned. "Whoa, Ash! Getting headhunted by the Men in Black? Or, uh, Women in Practical Dark Attire, I guess. Next thing you know, you'll be wearing sunglasses indoors."

Arya elbowed him playfully. "Leave him alone, Leo. Some of us appreciate true professionalism." But there was a teasing glint in her own eyes.

The operatives worked with astonishing speed and silence.

Within an hour, they had swept the entire house, neutralizing several more sophisticated listening devices and almost invisible pinhole cameras.

Then, they began their own installation: discreet cameras covering all entry points and key internal areas, microphones woven into the fabric of the house, all feeding into a secure, encrypted network monitored from their van.

The house was now a fortress, our own digital eyes and ears everywhere.

Phase two was locked in. The stage was set.

The black, unmarked van of Vector Security Solutions had departed, leaving our house a silent, wired fortress.

The quiet hum of their equipment was a subtle undercurrent to the thick tension that had re-settled in my room. We’d gathered there, the designated command center, the air heavy with unspoken anxieties and the weight of our audacious plan.

The door creaked open, and Iris stepped in.

Her face was pale, the strain of the day etched around her eyes, but there was a new, fragile steel in her posture. She carried her laptop like a shield.

Arya immediately moved to her side, looping an arm through Iris’s. "Hey, superstar," she said, her voice soft but with an undercurrent of her usual teasing affection.

"You sure you don't want me to do your makeup? I've got this killer 'defiant avenger' look down pat. Very on-brand for tonight, I think."

Iris managed a small, watery smile, leaning into Arya's support for a moment. "Thanks, Arya, but I think Stellaris needs to look… well, like Stellaris. As normal as possible, at first."

Leo bounced on the balls of his feet, his face alight with an almost childlike excitement that was a stark contrast to the grim set of his jaw earlier.

"Man, Iris, this is so cool! I mean, not the psycho stalker part, obviously, that sucks. But Stellaris! Live! And we get front-row seats!"

"Are you gonna do the 'Nebula Noodle Dance' if someone subs with enough Star-Bits?" His grin was pure, unadulterated fanboy joy, a brief, welcome flash of light in the oppressive atmosphere.

"Maybe, Leo, maybe," Iris chuckled, the sound a little shaky but genuine. "If the mood strikes." The easy banter seemed to loosen something in her, a flicker of her usual warmth returning.

Even Ash, who had been observing from his corner with his usual quiet intensity, offered a rare, direct look of acknowledgement.

"President Iris," he said, his voice holding that familiar note of deep, almost formal respect from their Student Council days. "Your resolve in undertaking this is… commendable."

Iris’s smile for Ash was more composed, a nod of shared understanding between former colleagues. "Thank you, Ash. Let's hope that capacity holds up tonight."

My own stomach, however, was a knot of cold dread.

Watching her try to project calm, seeing the almost invisible tremor in her hand as she set up her laptop at my desk, every small, brave gesture felt like a twist of the knife.

This was my sister, walking into the digital lion's den, and every part of me screamed to stop her, to find another way.

But this was her fight too, her stage.

The laptop screen before her glowed with the familiar interface of her streaming software. Ash, Leo, and Arya took up positions behind her, a silent, supportive phalanx.

“You ready for this, Iris?” I asked softly, my own voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me, though my nerves thrummed like over-tightened wires.

She took a deep, shaky breath, her fingers hovering over the mouse.

For a moment, I saw that hunted look return to her eyes, the raw terror that had gripped her that morning, and her hand trembled visibly.

“I… I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What if this just makes him angrier?”

Leo stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Iris. We’re right here. Every step of the way.”

Arya nodded, her expression fierce. “He wants you to be scared, to be silent. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Show him who he’s messing with.”

Ash, in his quiet way, added, "You've always been good at handling pressure, President Iris. He's underestimating you."

I met Iris’s gaze, trying to pour all the conviction I felt into my own. "Look, Iris... just... remember what we talked about? With, uh... Princess Starlight?" I stumbled a bit, feeling how ridiculous it sounded even as I said it. "She wouldn't back down from something like this. And... and neither will you. You get what I mean, right?"

Her eyes searched mine, and slowly, the fear began to recede, replaced by a flicker of the fiery spirit I knew so well. She took another breath, firmer this time.

Then, a transformation.

As Iris focused on becoming Stellaris, a swift, almost startling change began. The alarm in her striking blue eyes was quickly replaced by a focused intensity, a clear, direct gaze that seemed to see beyond the confines of the room.

The tightness around her mouth smoothed, her lips settling into Stellaris's characteristic composed, confident smile.

The slight slump in her posture vanished. She sat up straight, her spine aligning, shoulders settling back with an air of quiet authority.

The nervous tension that had briefly gripped her seemed to dissolve, replaced by a tangible sense of readiness, a potent, focused energy now filling her frame. It was as if a switch had been flipped, bringing a different, more commanding aspect of her to the forefront.

“I almost saw a magical girl transformation in real life,” I muttered under my breath, a sense of awe mixing with my anxiety. Leo shot me a grin.

Iris took one steadying breath, a small, internal reset. Then, her finger moved with precision, clicking ‘Go Live.’

Phase 3 start.

Her voice, when it came, was no longer Iris’s soft, hesitant murmur but Stellaris’s clear, engaging tone, possessed of a natural confidence and charisma that instantly drew you in:

"Alright, systems green. We are live."

A brief, deliberate pause, then her customary, poetic opening:

"From cosmic dust, a light takes hold,
A story new, about to unfold."

"Kon-Stellar, everyone! Stellaris here, broadcasting live from… well, let’s just say a secure, undisclosed location! Hope you're all having a fantastic day, or night, wherever you are in this wide universe."

"Chat's already buzzing, I see, welcome in, Star-fam! If you're just joining, feel free to say hi, drop a star emoji, let me know you're here. Good to see so many familiar names, and some new ones too!"

"Alright, looks like we're all set. Tonight, we're diving back into 'Galaxy Gliders II: Nebula Drift.' Let's get those engines started!"

The shift was astounding.

"Holy crap," Leo breathed, eyes wide. "She's… incredible. That's not Iris. That's… Stellaris. Full power."

Arya nodded, a proud, almost fierce smile on her face. "She was always a performer at heart. Just needed the right stage."

Ash observed with his usual calm, but I saw a flicker of something like surprised respect in his eyes. "That's… quite the transformation. She's completely in character."

For the next half hour, Stellaris was in her element. She navigated the vibrant, chaotic races of 'Galaxy Gliders II' with skill and enthusiasm, her commentary quick-witted, her laughter infectious.

She engaged with the chat, responding to comments, thanking subscribers, her energy never flagging.

Watching her, it was easy to forget the grim reality that lay beneath this sparkling performance. We, her captive audience in my small bedroom, found ourselves genuinely caught up in the fun, the tension momentarily forgotten.

Then, as planned, she subtly shifted gears.

During a lull between races, she leaned closer to the camera, her expression becoming more thoughtful, though the smile remained.

“You know, Star-fam,” Stellaris said, her voice taking on a slightly sharper, more contemplative edge, “it’s funny how some people think they can control others from the shadows, hiding behind their so-called ‘righteous anger’ and projecting their own darkness onto the world."

"They make demands, they issue threats, they try to silence voices they don’t like.”

Her eyes, bright and direct, seemed to pierce through the screen.

“But true strength isn’t about tearing people down or making demands from a place of fear and bitterness. It’s not about trying to extinguish someone else’s light because you’re lost in your own shadows.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air.

“Real strength is about shining your own light, about creating, about connecting, even when it’s hard, even when people try to tell you you’re not good enough, or that you should just disappear."

"No one gets to dictate your story, or demand your silence. No one.”

Her gaze hardened almost imperceptibly.

“So, to anyone out there trying to operate from the darkness, trying to control others through fear and intimidation? Just know this: your tactics are weak. Your shadows can’t extinguish a star."

"And we, the Star-fam, we stand in the light. And we. Will. Not. Be. Silenced.”

With a final, defiant smile, she winked. "Alright! Enough heavy thoughts! Who's ready for the Lunar Leap Mega-Race? Let's do this!"

A small, almost invisible icon on my laptop screen indicated that the designated clip of her speech was already being processed and uploaded to her YouTube channel.

The bait was cast.

The live stream resumed, Stellaris once again all bright energy and playful banter, but the undercurrent of defiance lingered.

My friends and I exchanged grimly satisfied looks. Iris had done it. She’d thrown down the gauntlet.

Now, all we could do was wait.

The minutes stretched, each one feeling like an hour.

The only sounds in my room were the click of Iris’s mouse as Stellaris continued her game, the soft hum of the laptop, and our own ragged breaths.

Leo paced a tight circle near the door, coiling and uncoiling his fists. Arya leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the surveillance feed on a spare tablet, though her knuckles were white. Ash seemed to be rereading the same page of a book over and over, his focus clearly elsewhere.

Even Stellaris’s on-screen cheerfulness felt like a thin veneer over the electric current of dread that filled the room.

Every creak of the old house, every distant car horn, made us jump.

The house imploded.

One second, Leo was mid-sentence, recounting an anecdote about a disastrous school play. The next, a monstrous ROAR and a violent, floor-shaking tremor hit at the exact same instant.

The laptop’s front camera feed, showing Stellaris mid-laugh, went white, then black.

No time to think, no warning. The world wasn't just shaking; it felt like it was coming apart at the seams.

Then, CRASH.

A deafening, brutal sound of destruction engulfed us. Metal twisted and shrieked, wood snapped like twigs, glass exploded into a million tiny, sharp fragments.

The lights were gone. Darkness, thick with choking plaster dust and the acrid, sharp smell of gasoline, slammed down like a physical blow.

I was thrown, a searing pain shooting through my shoulder as I slammed into something hard and unyielding. My ears were ringing, a high-pitched, painful whine that drowned out all other sound.

Where our living room wall should have been, there was just a massive, jagged hole, spitting out dust and debris like an open wound.

The front of a dark, crushed SUV was jammed deep into the space, its mangled engine hissing and popping like a dying beast.

Iris had been right beside me on the sofa, her hand gripping mine for reassurance just moments before the world ended.

Iris! The name was a silent, terrified scream in my head, the immediate, instinctive fear for the person closest to the epicenter of the blast.

My [Save & Load S] menu flashed into view, unsolicited, stark against the internal chaos:

Sub Skill Menu
[Save & load S]
Slot 01: [2025-04-04-07:33]
Slot 02: [2025-04-04-08:15]
Slot 03: [empty]
Slot 04: [empty]
Slot 05: [empty]

I could undo this. I could go back, erase this horror.

But Iris’s confession, my parents being safe and blissfully unaware miles away, the knowledge we’d gained… all of it would be gone. The cost was too high.

No. We deal with this. We have to.

My [Third Eye A] flared, cutting through the darkness, the scene snapping into a horrifyingly clear, hyper-slow-motion view.

[Third Eye A]. Bullet Time Vision.

[Third Eye A]. Periscope.

[Third Eye A]. X-Ray.

Dust particles hung suspended in the air like malevolent stars. Shards of glass spun lazily, glinting in some unseen, residual light.

My vision punched through the choking dust cloud like an X-ray, straight to the wrecked car. I saw him.

He struggled out of the driver's seat, a dark, hunched shape, moving with a jerky, unnatural gait.

His left arm hung at a grotesque angle, clearly broken, blood soaking rapidly through his sleeve. A deep, jagged cut on his forehead was already gushing crimson, but he moved with a terrifying, focused energy, seemingly oblivious to his injuries.

This wasn't the methodical, calculating attack from the previous timeline. This was pure, uncontrolled rage.

His face, briefly illuminated by the dying car's flickering emergency lights, was a mask of twisted grief and incandescent fury.

He threw back his head, and a sound ripped from his throat, not a human yell, but a raw, animal howl of absolute despair and murderous intent, a sound that twisted the name he was obsessed with:

“IRISSS!”

The whole thing, the roar, the crash, his cry, happened in less than two seconds. The sheer, brutal force of it was instantaneous, absolute.

There had been no chance to react, no warning from Arya’s sophisticated surveillance.

And the horrifying truth hit me, as hard as the impact of the car itself: The taunt. Our plan. This was the result.

Arya’s strategy to make him reckless had worked too well, with terrifying, unforeseen consequences.

This wasn't the careful, unseen predator from the other timeline. This was a wild animal, driven completely over the edge by our deliberate provocation.

If we had done nothing, if we had just waited, if we hadn't poked the bear…

This was a mistake. A massive, devastating mistake.

My head spun, the world a dizzying, nauseating mess of pain and ringing. The dust, beginning to settle now, revealed the mangled, gaping destruction of our home, our sanctuary.

For a paralyzing moment, shock held me still, the crushing weight of our terrible miscalculation pressing down, suffocating.

Then, a sharp, cold terror, colder than any power, cut through the fog. My friends.

Were they under the rubble? Hurt? Silent?

The paralysis broke. A raw, visceral fear, more potent than any I had ever known, gripped me.

"LEO!" My voice was a ragged whisper, barely audible over the ringing in my ears and the groaning of the house. "ARYA! ASH! IRIS!"

Silence.

Only the groaning sounds of the wrecked house settling around us, the hiss of the dying engine, and the ragged, gasping breaths of the man who had just driven through our lives.

My [Third Eye A] flared again, desperate, sweeping through the debris-filled chaos of what was once our living room, my vision already blurring with tears of terror as I frantically searched for any sign of them, any movement, any sound, any hope in the suffocating darkness.