Side Story (3) - Chaper 4
The early morning sun filtered gently into Solace's room, casting a soft glow over the polished surface of her desk, so pristine that she could make out her faint reflection in it. She sat in silence, twisting a pen between her fingers, her gaze unfocused and distant. Her nightgown, a pale blue with delicate lace at the cuffs and collar, brushed against her skin, cool and lightly starched—chosen by her mother, like so many details of her life. She hadn't even realized she'd been staring into her reflection, the loops and twists of her pen keeping time with her thoughts.
It was the one peaceful part of her day—these early moments before anyone else had risen, before the house filled with sounds of footsteps and distant voices. She took in the stillness of the room, letting herself breathe deeply, as if the quiet could somehow shield her from the memory of her parents' argument. Their voices replayed in her mind, a low, tense exchange that seemed to carry hidden meanings. It was only a few words, half-heard and muffled, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface.
Solace set down her pen and closed her eyes briefly, letting the soft light rest on her eyelids. She leaned back in her chair, the faint weight of her neatly braided hair falling against her shoulder. Her mother had always insisted on tying her hair before bed—"It'll stay neat in the morning," she'd say in that matter-of-fact tone Solace had long since learned not to question. Every choice, every action felt planned, like she was part of a carefully arranged scene.
After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, she rose, slipping out of her nightgown and reaching for her uniform, which hung precisely on its hanger near her closet. She ran her fingers along the crisp lines of her blouse, the neatly pressed pleats of her skirt. Each piece felt like a part of her daily armor, a way to mask whatever uncertainties lingered in her mind. She buttoned her blouse carefully, smoothing down the collar, and then pulled on the skirt, making sure every pleat fell exactly into place.
Crossing over to the mirror, Solace took a moment to examine herself, hands moving with practiced precision as she pulled her hair back into the school's required style. She stared at her reflection, the polished image of her face and neatly arranged hair, but the person looking back felt distant. In the early light, she could almost imagine another version of herself—a girl who chose her own clothes, wore her hair as she liked, a girl who didn't feel as if she was playing a part.
But the moment passed, and Solace let out a small, nearly imperceptible sigh. She adjusted her uniform one last time, feeling the cool fabric settle on her shoulders, before picking up her bag and heading downstairs. The house remained as quiet as she'd left it, save for the faint ticking of the hallway clock. In the dining room, breakfast was already set by the household staff—a solitary arrangement of toast, fruit, and tea, arranged as precisely as everything else in her life.
She sat down alone, lifting the cup of tea to her lips, letting the warmth spread through her hands as she took a small, steadying sip. Today was another day, another set of expectations, another round of duties. Whatever her parents were hiding would surface eventually, she told herself firmly. For now, she needed to focus on her own tasks, to press forward with her own quiet resolve.
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The morning passed without much distraction, each lesson dragging as Solace anticipated her assignment. She moved through her classes on autopilot, her mind occupied with Ms. Rourke's words and the task at hand. She'd reviewed the instructions repeatedly, reminding herself it was "just an assignment," but something about this specific task sat heavily in her chest. Her target wasn't just any student—it was Megan. Why had Zenith chosen her? And why was it so important?
As the bell rang, signaling the transition between classes, Solace moved swiftly through the hallways toward the gym locker room. She'd planned her approach carefully, arriving early to ensure privacy. If her timing was right, Megan would show up before the other girls filled the space with chatter and the chaos of gym class prep.
The locker room was quiet when Solace entered, the fluorescent lights humming softly above. She found a spot at the end of a row, close enough to the entrance to see when Megan walked in, but far enough to avoid drawing immediate attention. She busied herself with adjusting her gym bag, the minutes ticking by as her mind rehearsed the words she would say.
The door creaked open, and Solace's breath caught for a second as Megan stepped in, a bit surprised to see someone already there. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Solace felt a pang of unease. It was strange—the familiarity in Megan's expression, the way she held herself, almost mirroring Solace's own quiet reserve.
"Hey, Megan," Solace greeted, standing up straighter, her voice carefully casual.
"Oh, hi, Solace," Megan replied, her smile polite but reserved as she moved to her locker nearby. She seemed a little taken aback by the unexpected greeting, but there was a softness in her gaze, a hint of curiosity.
The silence stretched between them, and Solace knew she had to act fast before anyone else arrived. "I was actually hoping I could ask you something," she ventured, glancing briefly at the floor as if gathering her thoughts. "You're in advanced literature, right?"
Megan nodded, slipping her bag off her shoulder. "Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?"
Solace felt a strange twist in her chest as she spoke, carefully steering the conversation. "I was just curious about the assignments. I've heard it's a pretty tough class, and I'm thinking about signing up for it next year."
"Oh, it definitely is," Megan replied, her tone warming with enthusiasm. "We're working on a big comparative analysis paper right now. It's a lot, but it's interesting."
Megan's response was genuine, her eyes brightening as she shared a bit more about the class. Solace, however, couldn't shake the guilt building inside her with each passing second. It was as if she was watching someone she knew, and yet Megan was practically a stranger. Why had Zenith singled her out? And why did Solace feel such an inexplicable connection?
As they continued to talk, Solace took in the small details—the way Megan smiled, the slight tilt of her head as she listened. There was an eerie sense of similarity that made Solace's chest tighten with something unidentifiable, something that felt almost like recognition.
"Thanks for sharing," Solace said finally, her voice soft. Megan gave her a friendly nod, picking up her gym bag and heading toward the changing area as the first sounds of other students entering reached them. Solace watched her go, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite place.
As she turned away, the unsettling feeling remained. She couldn't shake the thought: What would Zenith actually do with this information? And why did it have to be Megan?
It was just an assignment, she told herself again, but the rationalization felt hollow.
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The air was crisp as the gym teacher directed them to the track outside, the early autumn chill biting against the students' skin. Solace lined up with the others, her mind heavy with the weight of her earlier conversation with Megan. Her mother's voice played in the back of her head, a reminder to always excel, no matter the task. Gym was no exception. She'd always been expected to perform well in every area, physical activities included.
As they started running laps, Solace focused on the rhythm of her feet against the track, trying to clear her mind. But her gaze kept drifting, finding Megan among the group. She seemed unaware, her expression light, cheeks tinged pink from the brisk air. Solace wondered if she had any idea of the scrutiny she was under, if she knew how deeply connected they were—or rather, how Solace felt they were, without even knowing why. The girl was just a classmate, a stranger really, yet this unexpected assignment had planted a seed of protectiveness in her, a sense of betrayal lingering from her actions.
What could Zenith possibly want with her?
Her thoughts drifted to her parents' argument. Those hidden, half-muffled words haunted her now, blending with her growing suspicions. Could all of this be connected somehow? The possibility gnawed at her, unsettling in its implications.
For years, she'd believed her world was straightforward, her daily life bound by her parents' strict routines and high expectations. Only recently had she learned about Zenith, this shadowy organization that had quietly shaped her life in ways she hadn't understood. She'd only just begun to understand the depth of their reach, and the power they held over her family. At first, she'd accepted the instructions they passed along as simply a new, rigorous phase in her life—a path her parents had chosen for her.
But now, doubt crept in, curling around this budding sense of duty and casting shadows over everything she thought she understood. What else had been hidden from her?
She quickened her pace, her breath forming small clouds in the cool air. The teacher's whistle blew, signaling the last lap, but Solace barely registered it. She couldn't afford to lose herself to these questions, not here, not now, but the feeling lingered, a steady thrum of distrust. She glanced once more at Megan. I'll keep an eye on her, she resolved silently, as though it would somehow make amends for her actions.
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The next day, when Megan didn't show up to school, Solace told herself it was nothing to worry about. Maybe she just wasn't feeling well, she thought, trying to rationalize her absence. It was easy enough to brush off for one day, but as the week progressed and Megan continued to remain absent, a small knot of worry began to form in Solace's stomach.
They didn't share the same homeroom, only a few brief encounters in passing as well as a couple shared lectures, but in the close-knit community of her school, it didn't take long for rumors to start spreading. She overheard snippets in the hallways, whispers in the cafeteria: "Did you hear about Megan?" "Apparently she hasn't been seen since last Wednesday." "Some say her family just up and left, but it's all so sudden…"
Solace tried to push the rumors aside, but the doubt in her mind grew louder. Had she done something to trigger this? The thought gnawed at her, casting a shadow over her days. She couldn't shake the eerie feeling that, somehow, she'd set a sequence of events into motion that she couldn't control.
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As Solace left school that day, her mind bounced between lingering questions about Megan's absence and her upcoming League match. She'd checked her messages earlier—today, her scheduled practice was a 2v2 with a duo called NightProwl and FoxFlare. She'd be teaming up with Soulchaser, and though the stakes felt high, a small part of her was eager to show him what she'd learned from their last game. This time, she thought, I'll play as his support. She'd read up on the role and felt confident she could create openings for him. At least the pressure of dealing the damage wouldn't be on her.
As she made her way home, the thought of the game was a relief, a welcome distraction from the gnawing guilt she couldn't quite ignore. Her fingers brushed over her phone as she unlocked her front door, the image of Megan's empty seat in class flashing in her mind. Shaking her head, she set her bag down and headed to her room, booting up her laptop. The familiar hum of the machine brought some comfort, pulling her focus back to the task at hand.
Soulchaser was already waiting in the lobby when she logged on. His greeting was friendly but direct, "You ready for round two?"
She grinned slightly, feeling her nervousness ease. "Ready as I'll ever be."
FoxFlare and NightProwl joined the lobby a few moments later. She eyed their champion picks—Ahri and Rengar. Her confidence wavered a little. Ahri's agility and Rengar's burst damage could be tricky. She hovered over her options before locking in Zyra.
Soulchaser quickly locked in Ezreal. "Trust me," he typed in the chat.
As they entered the loading screen, Solace noticed their opponents' ranks—both were higher than hers. The pressure mounted, but she took a steadying breath. Focus, she told herself. Soulchaser has my back.
The game started off tense, and she tried to prove herself, staying close to Soulchaser, timing her vines and seeds to create openings. At one point, she managed to stun Ahri, allowing Soulchaser to jump in and land a clean combo to finish her off. She allowed herself a small smile, pleased by his approving comments. But then Rengar leaped out from a bush, catching her off-guard. Despite her best efforts, she was taken down.
"It's okay," Soulchaser assured her, his voice steady over the headset. "You did great with the setup—just keep that focus."
Encouraged, Solace took a moment to adjust, planning to get back into rhythm when she respawned. Just then, a message from Ahri popped up in the chat: "Your name is… Solace… isn't it?"
Her heart skipped a beat. How did they know her name? She hesitated before typing back: "Yes… how did you know?"
The reply came swiftly: "Real shame…"
Solace's fingers tightened over the keyboard. Real shame? She couldn't help but type, "What do you mean?"
Ahri's response took a moment. "Poor thing… as if you wouldn't know… You seem sharp… strange you haven't figured it out yet."
Solace's pulse quickened, her fingers shaking as she typed back: "What are you…t-talking about…"
Another pause. Then, Ahri's last message: "In due time… you'll understand. Hey, I hope nothing… too bad happened to that girl…"
Solace's mind spiraled, questions and dread weaving together. What did Ahri mean? And… did they know something about Megan that she didn't? She tried to refocus on the game, but her mind was miles away, her hands unsteady on the controls as a chilling thought began to take shape: whatever she'd been dragged into, it was deeper than she'd realized.
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As the game ended, Solace barely noticed the victory screen. Her mind was still tangled in FoxFlare's cryptic words. Just as she was about to log off, a notification popped up—Soulchaser had invited her to a private call. She hesitated for a moment, then clicked "Join," still trying to process the strange encounter.
"Hey," Soulchaser's voice came through her headset, his tone calm, yet with a hint of underlying concern. "Don't worry about what FoxFlare said, alright? I'm sure… she didn't know what she was talking about."
Solace found herself gripping her mouse, the lingering unease still gnawing at her. "How could she know… about me?" she asked, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
Soulchaser paused, the line going quiet for a beat, as if he was choosing his words with care. "Sometimes people say things to seem bigger or more intimidating. Could be she's trying to throw you off. Don't let it get to you," he said, his voice steady but with an edge of protectiveness that surprised her.
"Maybe…" she murmured, a little more at ease but still feeling a knot in her chest. But there was something that had been on her mind for a while now. "Soulchaser... you're always… nice to me. Encouraging." She hesitated, unsure if she should even ask. "Why?"
He let out a soft chuckle, a sound that was both warm and faintly amused, like he'd been asked this before. "Well, you're new to all this," he replied, sounding casual but sincere. "When I started, I was pretty clueless myself. Didn't have anyone to help me out, and… well, I know what it's like to feel like the odd one out, to wonder if you're good enough. It's easy to feel lost."
Solace's voice softened. "So… you're helping me because you know what it's like?"
"Yeah," he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. "Besides, you're giving this your all. I respect that, and I figure… it's nice to have someone in your corner, y'know?"
A faint smile crept across her face. Soulchaser's encouragement felt genuine, like a steady hand reaching out when everything else seemed so uncertain. For a moment, it almost felt like he saw her, like he understood the part of her that still wondered if she belonged here.
As the conversation settled, a gentle pause filled the space between them, stretching into a kind of understanding. Solace felt a strange comfort in Soulchaser's presence, like he'd somehow managed to make her feel seen in ways she didn't fully understand.
Just as she was about to end the call, his voice came through one last time, soft and sincere.
"Hey… take care of yourself, alright?" He paused, the weight of his words lingering. "The journey ahead of you won't be easy. But you're stronger than you think."
Solace felt a warmth spreading in her chest, his quiet encouragement filling the corners of her mind. She didn't reply right away, letting his words settle. Finally, she managed a quiet, "Thank you… really."
There was a brief silence before Soulchaser responded, "Anytime, Solace. I'll be around."
With that, the call ended, leaving her alone once again—but this time, with the faintest glimmer of reassurance.