Hidden bricks

Cassie had made herself a promise: review the notes after every session with Otto. Cram it all in. Force it to stick. So—library. Notebook. Whatever it took. It didn't matter that he was a junior; Greta wouldn't recommend a fraud. 

The boy was probably one of those kids aiming for early graduation.

But brains weren't enough for that. You needed pull. Connections. Someone to grease the wheels. That was for the elite—the ones with warm desk chairs already waiting for them in some high-rise office. They didn't need five years in this hellhole.

Even the Hales couldn't swing that. Or rather, Claudia had decided that status had to be earned. Since childhood, she’d drilled Sophia to memorize every textbook, to claw her way to the top of the Academy rankings through sheer intellect.

Cassie, on the other hand, had been shunted off to extra physical training—a move that felt like a dumping ground for the dim-witted. Her father hadn't once objected.

The thought of him—perched behind a massive oak desk, guarding his rank while Sophia was... nowhere—made Cassie's stomach turn. He loved his seat in the system. He loved the stillness of it.

Her eyes scanned the pages, but the words were ghosts. Minutes felt like hours. Muscles were tight, a dull ache crawling up the spine, and the throat felt like sandpaper. I need water. A good enough excuse to bail. Outside in the quad, she spotted him.

Konrad.

Tall, but wearing his height like a burden—the same old slouch, the same loose, arrogant stride. Only now, he moved slower, like a man who had nowhere to be and no one to impress. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up in a messy tangle. Even here, he looked like he lived by his own rules. Some would say he was shaming the family name, but that was exactly what Cassie had always liked about him. He didn't give a damn.

Konrad came from old money. She wasn't sure what titles his parents held, but the name carried weight—enough to let him snore through every lecture without a word from the instructors. As he got closer, a thin glint caught the light on his earlobe. A piercing. Cassie felt a twitch of a smile. Idiot.

"Cassie?" He tilted his head, as if he couldn't believe she was real. Two years of sharing a desk, and he was looking at her like she was a ghost.

"What are you staring at?" She raised a brow.

He smirked. Same old mockery. "You look like you've been shoved up someone's ass for a week, Hale."

"And you're as elegant as ever." She gave a short, dry laugh. 

He looked her over. For a split second, the mask of indifference loosened. "So... how are you?"

"Not sure."

"I'm sorry," he said.

They weren't friends. Just co-conspirators against boredom. Endless lectures were survived together, whispering and judging everyone in the room until the bell rang. Then he’d go his way, and she’d sprint to Sophia’s classroom.

"You with the dropouts now?" he asked with a half-grin.

"The restoration group," Cassie corrected.

"Hurry up with that test and get back to our desk. There’s a waiting list for your spot; everyone’s dying to sit next to me these days." He brushed a lock of black hair from his eyes—it had grown long enough to reach his lashes, making him look like some broody lead in a romance novel.

Cassie laughed. "Really? You’re the local celebrity now? Guess I’d better move fast." She kept walking with him through the swarm of noisy students. The notes could wait until she was back in her room.

Suddenly, her gaze snagged on a hostile gesture in the crowd. 

A hand shot out, clipping another student on the back of the head. The movement was sharp and commanding—less of a friendly pat, more like a strike. She recognized those dark circles and those nimble fingers; for a heartbeat, Otto was looking down at the other boy with an expression of strange, cruel satisfaction.

But she must have been mistaken. From this distance, it was too easy to misread a face in the blur of gray uniforms. Besides, nerds were supposed to be quiet, the kind of submissive pushovers who spent their lives being stepped on. There was no way a scholarship grunt like him was capable of that look. 

Yeah, she’d definitely imagined it.

"Looking for Eli?" Konrad’s voice pulled her back into the conversation.

Back then, Eli had made a habit of lurking outside Sophia’s classrooms, grabbing her hand and steering her toward the library. The prick always looked so damn clean—hair slicked back like some poster-boy student—while Sophia just... faded. She’d grown pale, as if the life were being sucked out of her.

Cassie was certain he’d found a way to bleed her dry, forcing her to do his assignments or "help" with his studies. Whatever it was, it had left Sophia hollowed out—so drained she’d actually started pushing Cassie away.

The memory made a lump rise in her throat.

"Seen him?"

"Nope. Just his pack. Haven't seen him in weeks." Konrad glanced at her. "Listen, Cass... did you really jump him?"

"I just wanted to know what happened to Sophia. They were on that mission together." Her fists tightened until the skin over her knuckles felt thin, ready to snap. "He pushed me too far. If he was clean, he would've just told me the truth."

"If you cross paths with him, try to keep your cool" Konrad said. His voice was low, devoid of its usual mockery.

"Don't worry. I don't need him right now. I just need to know who else was on that mission besides his besties and Sophia."

Cassie knew that mission had been an 'elevator'—the kind of test that got you noticed and promoted. Eli went, his two shadows followed, and someone else was there. But the files were locked. Closed. She needed a way in, and Eli's friends weren't talking.

A few more steps and the noise of the Academy faded. They reached a low, heavy metal door. Konrad opened it without looking back, and the cold air hit Cassie’s face like a slap. 

Outside was cramped. Concrete, pipes, and the blank wall of the next building. No yard, no sky—just a narrow pocket of dead space.

"You want one?" Konrad asked suddenly.

"What?"

The taller boy didn't answer. He dropped his bag and crouched by the wall, prying a loose brick from the masonry. A small bundle emerged, quickly disappearing into a pocket before the stone was slid back into place.

Cassie narrowed her eyes. "Well, I'll be damned." 

He pulled out a cigarette, struck a match, and took a long drag. He held a second one out to her without looking. Cassie waved it off. "Since when? I don't smoke, and neither do you."

He snorted, that wide, effortless grin finally appearing. "Is that right?"

"Yeah. And what's with the wall-safe? You're in with the Web now?" 

He didn't answer right away, just let the smoke out slowly. It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew about the Web—the Academy's black market. If it was forbidden, they had it. Cigarettes, booze.

"Since when are you with them?" she pushed.

He looked straight at her. "What else is there to do here, Cass?" His voice was even. "At least this is actually fun."

And damn it, he was right. For outcasts like them, there really wasn't anything else. To keep from losing your mind under the crushing weight of drills, the rigid rules, and the mountain of mindless paperwork—constant reports tracking every single hour of mandatory self-study—people like them needed something. Anything to give the drudgery a shred of meaning.

He exhaled another cloud of smoke, staring at the concrete. "They have people everywhere," he said quietly. "If you're in... they can get you things. And they can get you information."

He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes searching hers with a heavy, unspoken prompt. It was an invitation—an offer hanging in the gray smoke between them, waiting for her to reach out and take it.