WHEN THE MASK SLIPS

The gym had that familiar mix of sweat and dust in the air, with the heavy bag swaying gently as each punch landed.

Thud.

Liliana’s fist hit it with a sharp, precise force. Her dark blue hair was damp against her forehead, strands sticking out from the heat of her workout.

She didn’t take a break. Her rhythm was steady and unyielding.

Rohan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, observing her with his usual inscrutable expression.

“You know…” he started, his voice cutting through the air calmly, “sooner or later, you’re going to encounter people who’ll want to challenge you.

Other students, teachers, or maybe even tougher opponents. What’s your plan when that day comes?”

Thud. Thud.

Liliana didn’t respond immediately. Her fists continued to strike, her breathing steady, almost like a meditation.

At last, she spoke.

“Didn’t you already mention that?” she said, not bothering to meet his gaze. “Just take one hit. Just one. Then…”

Thud.

“…I can do whatever I want.”

Rohan tilted his head, studying her with a quiet intensity. “And what does ‘whatever you want’ mean to you?”

Liliana’s punches began to slow. The bag swayed gently, as if it were waiting for her to say more.

She took a long, steady breath. Then, with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she whispered:

“…It means I stop pretending to be human.”

The bag came to a halt.

Rohan’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching the glimmer in her gaze. It wasn’t just confidence—there was something darker, sharper, almost gleeful.

“Be careful,” he warned softly. “There’s a thin line between control and chaos.”

Liliana tilted her head, finally turning to face him. Her smile widened, unsettling in its calmness.

“…Maybe I enjoy chaos.”

Rohan pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly toward her. His tone shifted—still calm, but now carrying a weight.

“Liliana,” he said evenly, “you’re strong. Stronger than most people your age. But strength means nothing if you’re alone. Friends… they’re important. They’ll keep you grounded when things get tough. Don’t forget that.”

For a brief moment, her fists stilled. She faced the heavy bag, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. His words cut through the fog that usually clouded her eyes.

“…Friends, huh…” she murmured.

Her tone almost softened—almost.

Then, slowly, Liliana rolled her shoulders back. The gym light caught the outline of her frame as her muscles flexed beneath her shirt lean, tight, honed from discipline.

She wasn’t bulky, but her back showed the sharp definition of someone who had dedicated years to her craft. The kind of strength that didn’t belong to “just a girl in school.”

Her lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“…Friends are nice.” Her voice dropped, smooth like silk but with a hint of steel. “…But when it really matters…”

She twisted her neck until it cracked, tilting her head at an odd angle that almost seemed playful.

“…I don’t need anchors. I need opponents.”

Rohan’s face darkened, but she wasn’t done yet.

Her hand glided across her shoulder, trailing down to her clenched fist, veins subtly standing out.

“Friends keep you sane,” she said, her eyes sparkling with something dangerous. “But enemies… enemies keep you alive.”

The heavy bag swayed slightly, as if responding to her words, even though she hadn’t touched it.

For a brief moment, her body quivered not from fear, but from the thrill of anticipation.

“You… hit me.”

Liliana’s voice was low, almost teasing, yet it cut through the stillness like a knife.

She slowly raised her hand, extending a finger to press against the very spot on her stomach where Amara’s knee had landed.

“Right here.”

Her head tilted just a bit, and then—she smiled.

Not a sweet smile. Not a polite one.

It was the kind of smile that chilled the air, twisted the knot in your stomach, and made every student watching forget to breathe.

A grin that didn’t come from pain… but from something much more thrilling.

Amara’s triumphant smirk wavered, faltering for just a moment as a flicker of unease crossed her eyes.

For the first time, the self-proclaimed queen of Class 10-E wasn’t so sure who truly wore the crown.

At the doorway, four pairs of eyes were glued to the scene.

Hudson and Luca leaned in a bit, their jaws hanging open, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Holy crap…” Hudson breathed, though it came out more like a gasp.

“She’s terrifying,” Luca replied softly, but the faint blush creeping up his cheeks gave him away. Even with the tension thick in the air, Liliana’s presence was more than just dangerous. It was mesmerizing.

Coby shifted uncomfortably beside them.

His lips were pressed tight, his eyes narrowed, yet he couldn’t seem to look away.

There was something magnetic about the way Liliana moved, a strange mix of grace and threat. Beautiful, sure. But unpredictable.

And then there was me.

Unlike the others, I wasn’t smiling or flustered. My posture was tense, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. My gaze was locked on Liliana, every shift in her aura sending my instincts into overdrive.

Just moments ago, she’d seemed cute. Calm. Almost gentle.

Now… she exuded something entirely different.

Danger.

I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself as I sensed the faint, undeniable hint of bloodlust in the air. It wasn’t overwhelming yet, but it was enough to make my skin crawl.

She’s not the same person we saw walk in this morning, I thought grimly. And if Amara keeps pushing…

I didn’t finish that thought.

Because inside the room, Liliana’s grin only grew wider.

I caught that her the instant I saw Liliana’s grin light up her face. For just a heartbeat, her gaze flicked away from Amara and landed directly on him.

It was a fleeting moment—barely a second. But I noticed.

She was sizing me up. Testing me.

And unlike Hudson, Luca, or even Coby, I didn’t give her anything. No flinch. No blush. No reaction whatsoever.

My face was as solid as stone, my gaze steady.

Liliana’s grin wavered just a bit. A spark of amusement—or perhaps curiosity—danced in her eyes. For the briefest moment, she looked almost… intrigued.

But before that silent moment could deepen, a sharp voice sliced through the tension.

“Oi! What the hell are you lot doing out here?!”

We at the door whipped our heads toward the sound. A teacher stood at the end of the hall, irritation etched on his face, arms crossed like a guard ready to spring into action.

Hudson opened his mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but the teacher’s voice boomed again before he could get a word out.

“Classes started ten minutes ago! Don’t think I don’t see you loitering!”

And then the boys realized something.

It wasn’t just the four of us.

The hallway outside Class 10-E was packed. Boys were crammed shoulder to shoulder, peering over one another, their faces alight with awe and adrenaline.

Some whispered urgently, others stifled laughs or gasps, but all of them were captivated by the storm brewing inside.