Riiiing—Riiiing—Riiiing.
The final bell shrieked through the classroom like metal scraping against metal, marking the end of yet another dragging school day. Chairs screeched, backpacks thudded, and the air swelled with chatter as students bolted for the door in a chaotic swarm. The teacher tried—weakly—to remind everyone of the assignment due tomorrow, but her voice drowned under the tidal wave of teenage noise.
At the back of the room, untouched by urgency, a group of girls gathered around a single desk. Their textbooks remained closed. Their notebooks empty. Their conversation—far more important than any assignment—spiraled with excitement.
At the center sat Sarah.
Short, brown-haired, her warm golden eyes reflecting the soft orange afternoon sun that poured through the windows. One of the prettiest girls in class, effortlessly. And the Class Representative—responsible, hardworking, a model student.
Which made her friends' teasing even more ruthless.
"So, Sarah," Yuki said, leaning across the desk with a wicked grin, "who do you have it bad for?"
Sally nudged her. "It's Isaac, right? Tell us!"
"Isaac? No," Mariam snorted. "It's totally Eithen. She blushes every time he speaks."
Sarah gawked at them. "What—? Where did that even come from?? You all seriously sound like every cliché high school movie ever. Can we please focus on the assignment?"
"Booo!" Yuki groaned. "Miss Saint is back."
"Drop the good girl act and spill," Mariam teased.
Sarah laughed helplessly, cheeks faintly pink. Their laughter filled the classroom, warm and obnoxious—
Then she froze.
Her eyes locked on someone near the door.
Without another word, she stood abruptly, her friends falling silent behind her as she walked away from them.
"Hey, Yuri!" she called.
He paused mid-step, stopping like he hadn't expected to hear his name spoken by anyone—let alone her. His worn-out bag was already slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.
He blinked. "Uh… hello, Class Rep. Can I help you?"
She frowned. "C'mon, I told you not to call me that. Just… Sarah. Okay?"
He hesitated. "Right. Sorry. Thanks, Sarah. I'll… see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Bye," she said softly.
He left quietly, disappearing into the hallway like a ghost slipping into the shadows.
Behind her, her friends stared in disbelief.
"Yuri?" Mariam gasped. "Really?"
"What??" Sarah sputtered.
Yuki leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Girl… that boy is weird."
"I wouldn't say weird," Mariam murmured, "but he creeps me out. A little."
Sally twirled a strand of hair. "He's kinda cute, though? But he always looks so tired. Pale skin, dark circles, messy hair… I like the hair, but—"
"He's too quiet," Yuki said. "No friends. Probably hiding something."
BANG.
Sarah's palm slammed against the desk before she even realized she'd moved. The girls jumped, wide-eyed.
Instant regret washed over her face as she pulled her hand back.
"I—sorry," she stammered. "Just… don't talk about him like that. He's our classmate. Maybe he's going through something. So please… just be kind. Keep an open mind."
She grabbed her bag and rushed out, leaving her friends stunned into silence.
Meanwhile…
A door creaked open.
Yuri stepped into his small apartment. The silence welcomed him like an old enemy—too still, too suffocating. He set his bag down gently, as though any sudden movement might cause the world to fall apart again.
He inhaled.Held it.Exhaled.
Then he knelt beside his bed.
His hand reached underneath, fingers brushing against the rough edges of an old wooden box. He slid it out carefully. Opened it slowly.
Inside lay a mask.
White. Plain. Unsmiling.A single black cross carved across its face—splitting the mask in half. One side pale and expressionless. The other side swallowed by darkness.
Yuri stared at it.
His fingers trembled—not from fear, but from memory. History. Pain.
Once he put this on, there was no undoing what he had become.
Three years.
Three years of training.Three years of torment.Three years of rage boiling inside a boy who had once been quiet, soft-spoken, gentle.
Three years since his world died with her.
Three years ago, my life shattered. The only bond I ever had—the only person who ever loved me—was taken from me in cold blood.
She always feared this day would come. She prayed no one else would suffer like she did… but prayers are useless.
If she asked me to make cows fly, I'd drag them into the sky. If she wished for the heavens to fall, I'd tear them down with my bare hands.
Her dream… her will… her pain… lives through me.
I will find the one who killed her.I will make him feel every form of suffering known to man.Slowly.Painfully.Completely.
He picked up the mask.
Held it against his face.
And whispered—
"I will be death."
He tightened the straps, the mask settling onto his skin like fate sealing itself.
"I will be…"
A breath.
A final heartbeat of the boy he once was.
"THE VIGILANTE."