The dusty storage closet was suffused with shadows, cobwebs hanging like draped curtains in the corners, and the air heavy with the scent of old wood and forgotten things. In this cramped, suffocating space, two figures stood facing each other—just three feet apart, yet they may as well have been worlds apart. Emery, his face etched with resolve, and the creature before him, trembling with fear. To move, to rush toward the other, would only lead to certain death.
In Emery's hand, something gleamed—through its luster barely pierced the gloom. It was at first barely recognizable in the shadows, a simple object, humble in appearance: the standard-issue chef's knife from the cafeteria. Now, however, it was something more. Blood stained its blade, dark and thick, glistening ominously in the dim light.
Time stretched out, the seconds feeling like years. Silence suffocated the room until, at last, the creature broke it with a growl—a low, guttural sound that seemed to ripple through the very walls. "How did you know, boy?" The words were a rumble, almost animal in their intensity.
A sly chuckle escaped Emery's lips, quick and sharp as an arrow. His voice was cool, calculated. "You're not as clever as you think," he said. "Your walking, your speaking, your eating patterns—they don't match Sangoin's. I didn't think much of it at first, until I saw Aubrey cut her hand."
The creature's eyes flickered, a flash of recognition. "You… suspected me then?"
Emery's eyes narrowed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Your excuse was good. A fear of blood, you said. But that's not how Sangoin would react even with a fear of blood. He wouldn't recoil in disgust. He'd help her. You're not like him. He's strong, even in his weakness. Unlike you, he wouldn't focus on his own fears—he'd help her."
The creature's lips curled back in a snarl, its posture tense. "You think you're so clever, boy? You think you know everything?"
Emery's eyes gleamed, cold and unwavering. "I'm assuming you're a juvenile, considering how easily you revealed yourself. A child could never get past the academy's tests—unless they were something more."
The creature's face twisted in rage, but the fear in its eyes betrayed it. Emery's words were like nails driving into the creature's pride, each syllable a reminder of its inferiority, its failure.
The knife gleamed between them, a silent promise of death, its weight unbearable.
The creature sneered, showing sharp teeth. "You may be strong, boy, but your species is weak. We Rapiophage are faster, smarter, stronger—"
Emery's expression didn't waver. "And yet, you lost. If I die here, your secret is exposed. If you die here, your whole kind is exposed. Either way, it doesn't matter to me."
A heavy silence settled between them. The air was thick with the tension of the moment, the inevitability of what would happen next looming in every breath.
Emery's grip on the knife tightened, his muscles coiling in preparation. He took a step forward, every inch of him focused, calculating the exact moment to strike.
And then, a voice—a familiar voice—broke through the tension.
"Sangoin, Emery, are you guys in there?"
The creature before him stiffened, its human form flickering like a dying candle flame. Its posture shifted subtly, its features warping for a split second before the creature gritted its teeth and quickly transformed back into Sangoin's form. In a swift movement, the creature dropped its monstrous disguise, trying to return to its human appearance as though nothing had happened.
"Sangoin?" The voice outside the door called again, softer now, unsure. "What's going on?"
Emery's heart was pounding in his chest, his mind spinning. He needed to act fast, but any move could betray him. The creature was almost fully back in its disguise, but the tension was still thick in the air. He knew that if he was too obvious, it would give it away.
Without missing a beat, Emery quickly threw the knife to the back of the storage closet, making it look as if it had simply been dropped in haste. He wiped his hand on his pant leg, acting as if nothing had happened. "Where in here," he said, his voice steady, masking the turmoil he felt.
The creature now fully assumed Sangoin's form, its eyes wide, trying to appear innocent, but the edges of its features still held that faint, unnatural twist. It smiled too wide, too stiffly.
"Yeah, everything's fine," it said, its voice perfectly mimicking Sangoin's.
The door creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was their classmate—Emery's old friend, the one who hadn't yet seen through the ruse. She looked between Emery and the creature, a confused frown onAubreyface. "What's going on in here? I heard you two fighting or something."
Emery felt his stomach churn, but he kept his face neutral. "Nothing. Just—just a little disagreement." He moved quickly, as casually as he could, to stand between the creature and the door. He tried to block the view of the corner where the knife had landed, keeping the focus on himself.
Sangoin—or what used to be Sangoin—stepped back, silently moving away from the door as if to back up Emery's story. It glanced at him once, the briefest flash of something passing through its eyes—danger, recognition, a warning—but Emery refused to show any weakness.
The classmate hesitated, then nodded, accepting the flimsy explanation. "Okay, I guess… just, don't scare me like that again."
With that,Aubrey turned, walking back down the hall.
Emery let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He turned back toward the creature, now fully Sangoin again.
It gave him a knowing look. "You're playing a dangerous game, boy," it said, its voice carrying a hint of malice beneath the familiar tone. "But it doesn't matter. I'll win in the end. All of you will fall."
Emery met its gaze, his eyes hardening. "We'll see about that."
As the door clicked shut, the weight of what he'd just done sank in. For now, he had bought time—but how much time? How many more of these creatures were there? How many had already replaced the people he once trusted?
The lines between good and evil had blurred, and Emery was no longer sure where he stood. All he knew was that this fight had just begun.