The arcade's ambience surrounded them, a messy symphony of flashing lights, clinking tokens, and loud cheers. Liewen straightened, the shift in his demeanor subtle yet noticeable. His shoulders were squared, his steps purposeful, and his gaze carried a sharpness that seemed out of place.
Kian noticed first, exchanging a glance with Malik, but the latter merely shrugged and smirked, clearly enjoying the change.
"Well, someone's feeling bold," Malik said, spinning a coin in his fingers.
Liewen's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Maybe I'm just warming up."
Malik raised an eyebrow. "Warming up, huh? Let's see how long you last, champ."
Kian chuckled nervously. "Take it easy on him, Malik."
But Liewen was already scanning the rows of machines, his movements deliberate. He stopped in front of a shooting game with bold red and blue plastic guns mounted on the console.
"This one's a classic," Liewen said, running his fingers over the edge of the machine. "What do you think? Feel like losing?"
Malik blinked, then let out a short laugh. "Losing? You're throwing shade now?"
"Just stating the facts." Liewen gestured to the second controller.
Malik raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right, Mr. Confidence, let's see what you've got." He grabbed the blue gun, spinning it dramatically before pointing it at the screen.
The screen flashed a countdown: 3… 2… 1…
The game launched them into a pixelated world—a crumbling city swarming with enemies. The objective was simple: shoot as many targets as possible while dodging the incoming fire of bullets.
Liewen's gun clicked rapidly as he moved through the first wave of enemies with surprising precision. Malik matched his pace, though his style was more chaotic, taking down targets with sweeping motions and muttered taunts.
"Come on, Liewen, is that all you've got?" Malik said, shooting a power-up that gave him a grenade.
"Focus on your own score," Liewen replied coolly, landing a headshot on a stacked boss.
Kian watched from the sidelines, his unease growing. Liewen's voice carried a tone—calm yet unnervingly sharp. He couldn't tell if Liewen was genuinely having fun or putting on a front.
The first round ended with Malik narrowly in the lead.
"Ha! Told you I'm the king of this place," Malik said, pumping his fist.
"King of noobs, maybe," Liewen replied, reloading his gun.
Kian's eyebrows shot up. Liewen never teased Malik like this.
"All right, tough guy," Malik said, shaking his head. "Round two. Let's see if you can back up all this talk."
The second round was faster and more intense. The enemies were stronger, their attacks more coordinated and with some of them possessing RPG's, obviously marking themselves as elite enemies. Malik's aggressive strategy began to falter, while Liewen stayed calm, methodically picking off targets and collecting power-ups.
"Where did you learn to play like this?" Malik asked, genuinely curious as Liewen shot down a helicopter boss with pinpoint accuracy.
"Does it matter?" Liewen replied without looking at him.
Malik chuckled, though his competitive streak was clearly taking a hit. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But the final round decides everything."
The last level was pure chaos. Enemies swarmed the screen from all directions, and the game threw every challenge imaginable at them—exploding barrels, armored tanks, and a timer ticking down ominously.
Kian leaned forward, his eyes darting between the two players. Malik was gritting his teeth, clearly determined to win, but Liewen was eerily calm, his focus unshakable.
"Come on, Malik! Don't let him beat you!" Kian shouted, half-joking.
"I'm trying, man!" Malik fired wildly, missing a few shots.
Liewen didn't miss. His character advanced smoothly, taking out the final wave of enemies just as the timer hit zero.
The screen flashed: PLAYER 1 WINS.
Kian jumped up. "Liewen! You did it!"
Malik stared at the screen in disbelief, then laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. Didn't see that coming."
Liewen set the gun down with a satisfied smirk. "Guess the king's been dethroned."
Malik pointed a finger at him. "All right, all right. You're good. But don't let it go to your head."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Liewen said, already moving to the next machine.
x x x x
The energy shifted after that. Malik's usual banter grew lighter, less cutting, as if he respected Liewen a little more. Kian, however, couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
By the time they left the arcade, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink.
"Not bad for a Monday," Malik said, stretching his arms above his head. "We should definitely do this again, just like basketball."
"Maybe," Liewen replied, his tone flat.
"Come on, don't play coy," Malik teased. "You had fun. Admit it."
Liewen smirked but didn't answer.
As they reached their bikes, Kian finally spoke up. "Hey, Liewen... are you okay?"
Liewen frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're just... different today," Kian said hesitantly.
Liewen gave a short laugh, low and almost dismissive. "Maybe I'm just tired of being predictable."
Kian blinked, unsure how to respond.
Malik laughed. "Well, if this is the real you, I like it. You've got some bite, man."
"Thanks, but I'm not a dog." Liewen said simply, climbing onto his bike.
The ride home was quiet, but Kian couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Liewen had always been reserved, cautious, and introspective. But today?
Today felt like he was someone else entirely.
x x x x
The ride home was quiet, the rhythmic clicking of the bike chain blending with the breeze of distant traffic. The city was winding down, the streets painted in warm, golden hues as the sun set. Liewen let the cool evening air wash over him, trying to shake off the lingering unease from the arcade.
When he arrived at his apartment complex, he secured his bike in the small rack near the entrance and took the stairs two at a time to his floor. The familiar creak of the worn-out steps grounded him, a small comfort amidst the confusion swirling in his mind.
Inside his apartment, the dim glow of the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. He dropped his backpack near the door and stood there for a moment, taking in the silence.
Usually, it was the kind of peace he craved, but tonight, it felt oppressive. He wandered to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, and leaned against the counter, staring at nothing in particular.
That smirk. That voice. The way he felt untouchable for those fleeting moments at the arcade—it all unsettled him. It wasn't him. At least, it didn't feel like him.
But if it wasn't him, then who was it?
It's just like what happened at history class last week, but different...
The thought made his chest tighten. He pushed away from the counter and headed to his room, collapsing onto the bed without bothering to change out of his clothes.
His eyes wandered to the ceiling, where faint patterns of light flickered from passing cars outside. He let the city's muffled sounds lull him into a restless haze, his mind spiraling with questions he didn't want to answer.
Somehow, sleep found him anyway, though it offered no solace.