Nairo came down the stairs slowly.
Not angry.Not rushed.
Calculated.
His parents were in the living room—Aunt Mary seated stiffly on the couch, Uncle Takahashi standing near the window, phone still in his hand like he'd been waiting for bad news.
Nairo stopped at the bottom step.
"She remembers," he said.
The room froze.
Aunt Mary's head snapped up. "Remembers what?"
Nairo exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Everything. Her family. What happened. Why this house exists."
Uncle Takahashi's jaw tightened. "That's impossible."
"She moved the mirror," Nairo replied flatly. "She knows."
Silence swallowed the room.
Aunt Mary stood. "You're sure?"
"She looked at me," Nairo said. "Not like before. Not confused. Not scared. Like someone counting."
Uncle Takahashi turned away. "She was a child. She couldn't have understood—"
"She understood enough," Nairo cut in. "Enough to remember whose name was on what. Enough to know this place was never ours."
Aunt Mary's voice dropped. "Lower your voice."
Nairo laughed once. "Why? There's no one left to hear us. That was the point, wasn't it?"
Her face hardened. "You were fourteen."
"And you were adults," he shot back. "Don't pretend this was sudden greed. This was planned."
Uncle Takahashi finally spoke. "Everything was in her father's name. The house. The accounts. The business."
"And you wanted it," Nairo said simply.
Aunt Mary's lips pressed together. "We took what we deserved."
Nairo's eyes flickered—not with guilt, not with fear.
With annoyance.
"She was cleaning blood off the floor," he said. "Do you remember that? While you were signing papers."
Aunt Mary turned away.
"She remembers that too," Nairo continued. "She remembers being told to stay quiet. To be grateful. To forget."
Uncle Takahashi's voice was low. "What do you want?"
Nairo shrugged. "What I've always wanted. Money. Security."
"And her?" Aunt Mary asked sharply.
Nairo smirked. "She's a problem now."
"She's dangerous," Uncle Takahashi muttered.
Nairo's smile widened. "She always was. You just thought breaking her would make her obedient."
A pause.
"She mentioned her sister," he added casually. "That shut me up for a second."
Aunt Mary's eyes widened. "She wouldn't dare—"
"She already is," Nairo said. "Not loudly. Quietly. That's worse."
Uncle Takahashi clenched his fists. "We gave her a roof."
"You gave her a cage," Nairo replied. "And now she remembers who built it."
Another silence.
"So what do we do?" Aunt Mary whispered.
Nairo looked back toward the stairs.
"She won't run," he said. "She wants answers. Proof. Control."
"And you?" his father asked.
Nairo smiled, cold and unbothered.
"I'm on my own side," he said. "Always have been."
He turned and walked away, leaving his parents standing in a house that suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Upstairs, behind a closed door, Marvello sat perfectly still.
She had already remembered.
And that was the beginning of everything unraveling.
---
By lunchtime, it was official.
Marvello no longer belonged to the school the way she used to.
She wasn't ignored anymore.She was measured.
Students lowered their voices when she passed. Some stared openly. Others pretended not to see her at all. Her name had changed shape overnight—from rumor to warning.
In the cafeteria, the pattern was clear.
Marvello sat with Ji-Hyun and Hana.
Only them.
Empty seats formed a careful circle around their table, as if no one wanted to be close enough to catch whatever had made her different.
Ji-Hyun shifted nervously, fingers tightening around his tray. "They're acting like you might explode."
Marvello took a slow sip of water. "They're acting like they've finally noticed I exist."
Hana glanced around. "You don't care?"
Marvello's eyes flicked up briefly. "I care about accuracy."
Fourth period brought silence.
Then the door opened.
The teacher paused.
"This is our new student."
She stepped inside with the kind of composure that couldn't be taught.
Blonde hair, pale and smooth, fell neatly down her back. Her features were soft but sharp in the right places—eyes observant, lips calm, posture relaxed yet alert. She was beautiful in a way that didn't ask for attention.
She already had it anyway.
Her gaze swept the room.
When it reached Marvello—
It didn't linger.
It acknowledged.
Marvello glanced at her once.
And smirked.
Not surprised.
Not pleased.
Just… certain.
"Amanda Takahashi," the teacher said. "You'll sit by the window."
The class buzzed immediately.
Takahashi?As in—Related to Naoki? and Marvello?
Ji-Hyun stiffened. Hana's fingers tightened around her pen.
Marvello leaned back in her chair, eyes forward again.
She had known Amanda would come.
She just hadn't known when.
After class, someone tried to intervene.
A girl from Naoki's circle blocked Amanda near the lockers. "You should stay away from Marvello."
Amanda blinked. "Is that advice or a threat?"
"People who get close to her don't end well."
Amanda smiled faintly. "I've heard worse."
"You don't know her."
"That's where you're wrong."
The hallway shifted.
Marvello had stopped beside them.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't look angry.
"Leave," she said to the other girl.
The girl hesitated—then did.
Amanda turned fully toward Marvello.
For a moment, the school disappeared.
Twelve years old again.
Two girls sitting too quietly in a house that didn't feel like home. Listening from behind doors. Learning names, signatures, secrets. Learning that adults lied better than children ever could.
They had learned together.
"You moved in," Marvello said calmly.
"Yes," Amanda replied. "With Nairo."
Ji-Hyun sucked in a breath behind them.
Amanda's gaze softened—just slightly. "I didn't choose him."
Marvello nodded. "Neither did I."
They stood there, mirrors of restraint.
Amanda spoke first. "You look different."
"You look prepared," Marvello answered.
A flicker of understanding passed between them—old, familiar, dangerous.
They had been cousins once.Not by blood.
By circumstance.
By survival.
By a shared understanding of what the Takahashi name had cost.
"When we were twelve," Amanda said quietly, "you said one day the truth would surface."
Marvello's smirk returned, slow and sharp. "I said it would wait until the right moment."
Amanda's eyes glinted. "Is this it?"
"No," Marvello replied. "This is the beginning."
Amanda exhaled. "Good. I didn't come here to pretend."
"Neither did I," Marvello said.
They both knew Nairo's parents were watching.Counting.Hiding.
They had always had the same motive.
Not chaos.
Not revenge for show.
Exposure.
Control.
The kind that made liars unravel themselves.
Amanda straightened. "People will think I'm here to protect him."
Marvello stepped back, gaze unreadable. "Let them."
Amanda smiled. This time, it wasn't polite.
"They won't see us coming," she said.
"They never do," Marvello answered.
As they walked away from each other—separate directions, same purpose—the whispers started again.
But this time, they weren't about fear.
They were about anticipation.
Because the school could feel it now:
Marvello wasn't alone.
And Amanda Takahashi hadn't come to blend in.
She had come to align.