The day started like any other.
Nox woke at 4 a.m. The rooftop was quiet as usual—stars fading above, the sky still wearing its midnight hue. He moved through his training routine with precision: stretches, pushups, shadow boxing, rooftop sprints, then finally stillness. A cigarette burned slowly between his fingers. His breath mingled with the cold air. Another day in the cage, another mask to wear.
By breakfast, he had already prepped eggs and rice for the two downstairs. Leo and Ash barely managed boiling water, so Nox cooked in silence, slipping away before either of them could thank him. He wasn't here for gratitude. He wasn't here for anything.
Classes passed like a breeze. Sculpting assignments, joint projects—they worked in a team, but the rhythm had shifted. Leo watched him too much. His gaze lingered. Nox didn't comment, but he felt it. The guilt clinging to Leo's silhouette like wet cloth.
Leo was starting to move differently. His footsteps matched Nox's pace. He brought the exact brand of coffee Nox used to import himself. He slipped a pack of imported cigarettes onto Nox's desk one afternoon—silent, tentative. And yet, Nox didn't smoke a single one of them. He only stared, then pocketed them wordlessly.
Ash noticed the change, of course. He asked more questions lately. He asked Leo if he was feeling okay. Leo always smiled too brightly, like he was afraid silence would crack him open. But Nox wasn't fooled. He saw the way Leo's shoulders curved forward when he thought no one was watching.
The sun set. Dinnertime. They shared a casual meal in the dorm—some boxed meals, soft laughter. Ash cracked a joke about their art instructor's obsession with tragic sculptures. Nox only gave a brief glance before disappearing again.
Later that night, Leo slipped out quietly. He told Ash he was going to grab noodles—the same instant noodles he'd seen Nox eat on the rooftop a dozen times. Somehow it felt... right. Like a thread he wanted to hold onto.
The streets were unusually quiet. Leo bought the noodles, then walked the dim path back toward the dorms, distracted by his thoughts.
Then the ambush hit.
Shadows lunged from the alleyways, metal glinting, bodies silent and fast. But Leo didn't freeze—his training kicked in. Two of his father's secret guards emerged just in time, intercepting the worst of it. Leo fought too, teeth clenched, movement fluid. He barely registered the blood until the last body dropped.
He turned, breath sharp—and froze.
Across the street, under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, Nox stood over a corpse, knife dripping red. His mask still on, hoodie soaked, violet eyes gleaming in the dark like a ghost pulled from myth.
But that wasn't what hit Leo the hardest.
It was Ash.
Standing just beyond the alley, wide-eyed, watching everything.
His expression—horror, betrayal, heartbreak—flashed like lightning in a storm. And then the guards were dragging Leo back, staunching a cut on his arm, barking into comms.
Leo couldn't speak. Couldn't reach out. Couldn't even run after Ash.
He never got the chance.
The next morning
The dorm was eerily quiet. Leo stepped inside slowly, his shirt tugging at the bandages on his shoulder. He was expecting... anything. Screaming. Questions. Something.
But the dorm was clean. Too clean.
Ash's side of the room was empty. His sketchbooks, his posters, his desk trinkets—all gone. Vanished like he had never existed.
Nox stood by the window, hood pulled low, hands tucked into the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. When he turned, Leo noticed the bandage still wrapped around his neck, peeking from beneath the collar.
Without a word, Nox walked over and handed him a folded note.
Leo stared. "...What is this?"
Nox didn't answer. His violet eyes didn't meet Leo's. He simply turned and walked out of the room.
Leo unfolded the paper. The handwriting was clean, rushed.
I'm sorry I saw what I wasn't meant to. Please don't contact me. I won't tell anyone about your secret.
– Ash
Leo felt the breath leave his lungs.
He sank onto the bed, note clutched in trembling hands. His mind replayed every moment—how close he'd come to confessing something he didn't even understand. How Ash had never seen Nox's face, and never would now. How the illusion cracked too soon.
And how Nox… never explained anything. Never asked for anything.
That night, Leo lay awake staring at the ceiling.
That's the thing, he thought, watching the faint glow of the rooftop window.
I don't think he ever would.
End of Chapter 52