The next morning, Devon walked into class as if yesterday's brush with death had been nothing more than a bad dream. The room buzzed with the same dull chatter, the same stale perfume of school life pretending to be normal. But his mind wasn't fooled. His thoughts circled around her.
Stephanie sat in the front row, posture neat, expression calm—too calm. Devon lingered at the farthest desk, buried in shadows where he preferred to breathe. He watched the back of her head, trying to piece her into something that made sense.
Who is she?
His mind offered only one answer—one that tasted like cold steel.
She had to be from one of the assassin families. That was the only way any of this madness could line up.
A poke to his arm snapped him back.
"Heyyy."
It was the same girl from yesterday—the one he insulted. Devon's lips twitched, ready to fire back, but something told him to hold his tongue.
"I came to apologize… for yesterday. We didn't mean to get on your bad side." She stood with her hands pressed awkwardly between her thighs, a picture of timid repentance.
Devon's eyes widened.
Don't tell me she's one of those masochistic freaks…
He pushed his chair back, ready to give her a proper tongue-lashing—
—but the world screamed first.
Sirens of terror, sharp and raw, rose from outside. Students rushed to the windows. Devon followed.
"What the hell…?"
The street was chaos—people sprinting, stumbling, fleeing from something unseen.
He turned, instinctively searching for Stephanie. Their eyes met. A brief spark. She looked away, cheeks tinged pink.
Devon felt the air shift.
The moment had come.
History would later call this day The Great Fall. The day humanity slid off the throne and never climbed back.
The teacher burst in, flustered. "Everyone sit! No one leaves until we receive an update on the situation outside. Where is Stephanie?"
"Devon is missing too," another student murmured.
---
Men's Restroom – outside
Stephanie stood pressed against the tiled wall. Devon blocked the exit.
"Why did you drag me here? Don't tell me you plan to… ugh." She hugged herself defensively.
"Cut the crap," Devon said. "We need to talk. I have a feeling you know a lot more about what's happening than you let on."
She shrugged. "Perhaps."
"And I know one thing for sure: if we don't move fast, we're all dead."
Her playful mask dropped. "Listen… every time you say things like that, your heartbeat doesn't change. So I don't know what scares me more—your calm… or whatever is out there."
"They're called Oedipals. If that thing hasn't been affected yet—"
"Affected? What does that mean?" she asked, brows knitting.
Devon exhaled slowly. When he raised his eyes to hers, something ancient flickered there.
"I'm from the future," he said. "A future so twisted it barely deserves to exist. I came back to fix things."
A lie… and yet not a lie. He truly believed he was here to make things right—at least his version of right.
"What's out there can wipe out an entire nation alone. So Elliot—"
"I prefer Stephanie," she corrected softly.
"Fine. Stephanie… I need your help."
He barely finished speaking before she spun, a kunai flashing like a silver tongue. Devon tensed, ready to block—but she wasn't aiming at him.
Another shadow fell.
Stephanie's blade caught someone by the collar and hauled them into view.
"You know," she said, eyes narrowing, "it's rude to eavesdrop."
Devon stared at the trembling figure in her grip. Recognition slammed into him.
"You again?"