Of course it's Rei’s voice.

  “Get up!”

  “It’s my day off,” I groaned into my pillow.

  “Doesn’t matter. You're late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “Existing.”

  I dragged myself up, opened the door, and blinked at her.

  She held a small paper bag and looked mildly irritated.

  “Happy birthday,” she said, tossing it at me. “Now eat.”

  Inside was a still-warm sweet bun.

  I stared at it.

  “You remembered?”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  “...I do?”

  “Last week you said, and I quote, ‘This taiyaki is mine. You can’t take it, shadow people.’”

  I blinked at her.

  “That sounds like something I’d say.”

  “Obviously.”

  She folded her arms and looked away like she wasn’t admitting she’d been keeping track of something personal.

  But she was here. On my birthday.

  That said more than any gift could.

  Later that morning, the squad met up in the dorm lounge.

  Ren had made tea. Riku brought of course balloons and a cake that looked like it had been punched into shape by a Riftborn.

  “Happy shadow day!” Riku yelled, throwing confetti.

  “It’s just called a birthday,” I said.

  “Nah. You’re too edgy for that.”

  The four of us chilled for once. No tactics. No danger. Just... normalcy.

  Even Rei sat with us, cross-legged on the carpet, quietly sipping tea while pretending not to enjoy the chaos.

  I liked this.

  I liked all of it.

  Which meant something bad was probably coming soon.

  You don’t get a whole morning of cake, sarcasm, and Rei sitting in a circle without something creeping in by afternoon.

  And sure enough, it started with a ping.

  Not the squad comms.

  Not a mission alert.

  A direct message.

  Encrypted.

  From Kyra.

  I stared at it for a good twenty seconds.

  Kyra the #2 ranked student in the Red Division. Ice in human form. Charming, but cold. Not someone who messaged people for fun.

  The message was short.

  “Meet me on the north rooftop at 6 p.m. Come alone.”

  No explanation. No context. Just a black sigil stamped at the end her division mark.

  “You gonna open that or just admire the font?” Rei asked from across the lounge.

  I flipped my wrist, letting the message fade from the screen.

  “Just a bot,” I lied.

  She gave me that look.

  You know the one.

  Like she didn’t believe me but didn’t care enough to ask. Not yet.

  6 p.m. came fast.

  The north rooftop was quiet technically off-limits during training days, but the instructors never enforced it unless someone started skydiving off the rails.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Kyra stood at the edge, leaning into the wind, her white uniform coat fluttering behind her.

  She didn’t look at me when I arrived.

  Just said:

  “You’re better than your rank.”

  I blinked.

  “You brought me up here for compliments?”

  “I don’t give those. Just statements.”

  She turned then, eyes sharp frost blue, like glass you shouldn’t tap too hard.

  “I saw the Riftborn report. Your squad wrote it clean. Too clean.”

  “We survived. That’s what matters.”

  “No. How you survived is what matters.”

  I stayed quiet.

  She stepped closer.

  “There’s a reason people are watching you, Lynn Kurosaki. They’re waiting to see what side you land on.”

  “Side of what?”

  “That’s the thing,” she whispered. “No one’s told you there are sides.”

  She reached into her coat, pulled out a sealed folder. Analog. Paper. Untraceable.

  “This is from a place you’re not supposed to know exists. I’m not giving you answers. Just options.”

  I took it.

  She didn’t wait for a thank you. Just walked past me, voice soft as she passed.

  “Be careful who you trust. Even in your own squad.”

  And then she was gone.

  I didn’t open the folder right away.

  Not because I was afraid.

  But because I knew once I did there’d be no going back.

  Meanwhile…

  Location: Restricted Staff Archives – Sublevel Three

  Rei sat in a darkened terminal chamber, hood drawn, fingers gliding across a decommissioned instructor login.

  She shouldn’t be here.

  But she’d memorized the access paths two weeks ago. Waited for the right moment.

  And now?

  Now she found it.

  “Subject File: Kurosaki, Lynn – Shadow Essentia Origin Unknown – Locked Tier 4 Access”

  Her brow furrowed.

  Next to the file was a secondary tab.

  Labeled:

  Project Echo — Eyes Only

  Last Accessed: Baek, Daejin

  Rei stared at it.

  And for the first time since Namhae Hollow…

  She felt fear.

  Some things are better buried.

  For now.

  Rei and I never talked about what she saw in the archive room, not out loud. Not in the dorms. Not in the cafeteria. Not even during sparring, when everyone else would casually throw out everything on their minds like it was a therapy session.

  We weren’t scared. Not exactly.

  We were aware.

  If KISA was watching us and we both knew they were then silence was survival.

  So we played it smart. We smiled. We trained. We didn’t dig deeper.

  But some nights, we’d walk into town just to breathe. Talk about nothing and everything. Like tonight.

  We sat on the edge of the city’s upper boardwalk, drinks in hand—mine, some overhyped energy tea; hers, something lemony and sour she sipped like it insulted her.

  The air was cooler up here. Wind carried the buzz of distant scooters and the smell of street food from four blocks away. It was late enough for the streets to start thinning, early enough for the lights to still feel alive.

  “You ever think we’re just actors?” Rei asked suddenly.

  I turned to her. “Actors?”

  “In someone else’s script. Playing a part we don’t know we’ve been cast in.”

  That got a laugh out of me. “You’re getting philosophical on me, Minahara.”

  “Blame the drink,” she said, raising her cup. “This has regrets in it.”

  We sat there for a moment.

  Then she added, quieter this time:

  “But seriously. You ever feel like you’ve been here longer than just these last few months?”

  I didn’t answer right away.

  Because yes. I did.

  And now I had a folder tucked beneath my bed that might explain why.

  But I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. Neither was she.

  So I leaned back on my elbows, looked at the sky, and asked something else.

  “What if we’re not actors?” I said. “What if we’re the ones writing the ending?”

  She didn’t respond.

  But the corner of her mouth curved upward.

  And for Rei, that said more than words ever could.

  We headed back to the campus a little after ten. The walk was quiet, calm.

  At the front gates, the security post blinked green and opened like always.

  Except there were three people waiting on the other side.

  And I knew all three of them.

  Jayven Carter.

  Malik Obadele.

  Theo Raines.

  I hadn’t seen them in years—not since I left the North American branch.

  But there they were, standing in the moonlight, half-amused and fully chaotic.

  Jayven was already waving.

  “LYNN KUROSAKI, as I live and breathe,” he shouted. “Still dramatic, I see.”

  Rei arched a brow beside me. “Friends of yours?”

  “Old ones,” I said. “From before Korea.”

  Jayven never did know how to keep his voice down.

  “You’ve got that main character haircut now,” he said, walking toward me. “Did they issue that when you landed, or did you grow into it?”

  “Still loud, I see,” I said, smirking.

  He grabbed me into a hug with the force of a linebacker, clapped my back twice, then pulled away to let Malik and Theo step forward.

  Malik nodded once. “You got taller.”

  “You got broader,” I said, taking in the thick forearms and that calm, heavyweight energy he always carried.

  Theo just fist-bumped me. He didn’t speak. He never needed to.

  Jayven’s grin shifted when he noticed Rei standing slightly behind me. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t smiled.

  “And you are?” he asked, flashing that charismatic edge he always used when he didn’t know whether to charm or challenge someone.

  Rei looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Minahara. Rei.”

  “She’s squad,” I added. “Also the reason I’m not dead.”

  “Ohhh,” Jayven said slowly. “That Rei.”

  “You’ve talked about me?” Rei asked without looking at me.

  “A little,” I muttered. “Context-dependent.”

  “It was flattering,” Jayven said. “Mostly.”

  Rei rolled her eyes. Malik stepped forward, extending a hand to her.

  “Ignore him. He thinks banter’s a combat style.”

  “Sometimes it is,” Jayven shrugged.

  Rei took Malik’s handshake. “I’m used to worse.”

  I didn’t miss how she stepped closer to my side afterward, though.

  We walked them through the campus that night—Jayven asking way too many questions, Malik keeping him in check, and Theo… just silently absorbing everything. The guy had this uncanny ability to read a place like it was a book no one else had access to.

  “So this is the dorm quad,” I said, pointing toward the west wing. “Red and Black Divisions share most of the facilities, but there’s crossovers during mixed drills.”

  “And where do they keep the secrets?” Jayven asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  Theo finally spoke. “You’ve changed, Lynn.”

  Everyone stopped walking.

  I turned toward him.

  “Good different or bad different?”

  “Neither,” he said. “Just… heavier.”

  That word lingered longer than it should’ve.

  Because he wasn’t wrong.

  Back in my dorm later that night, Rei and I sat on opposite beds, the window open, moonlight pouring in. She twirled her empty tea cup between her hands.

  “They’re a lot,” she said.

  “Yeah. But they’re good people.”

  “I can tell.”

  She didn’t say more.

  But I knew she was wondering the same thing I was.

  Why were they here, now?

  Out of every KISA branch, every division, every placement in the world they were dropped here, at this academy, this month, just after everything started spiraling beneath the surface?

  Coincidences don’t stack like that.

  Someone wanted me watched. Or distracted.

  Or tested.