The morning sun spilled through the tall library windows, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden floor. The room was quiet—too quiet. The faint rustle of pages, the occasional scratch of a pen, and the distant murmurs of students studying faded into the background.
At the center of it all, two figures sat across from each other, locked in an unspoken tension.
She leaned forward, her fingers tapping against the edge of the desk. Books were scattered around them, untouched, irrelevant. Right now, only one thing mattered.
"So… are you going to tell me everything?" Her voice was calm, but beneath it lay something firmer—something that wouldn't accept silence as an answer.
He didn't look up right away. His gaze lingered on the open book in front of him, as if pretending to read would somehow make the question disappear. But finally, he met her eyes.
"Everything?" His voice was steady—too steady.
She sighed, crossing her arms. "You know what I mean. Last night. The fight. That hologram. The way they spoke to you…" Her eyes narrowed. "Who were they?"
For a moment, he said nothing. The air between them felt heavy, charged with something unseen. Then, his gaze drifted toward the window. Sunlight reflected off the glass, but his expression remained unreadable.
"People from my past."
Her brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to tell me? After four years?"
He exhaled slowly, closing his book with a quiet thud. "I didn't want that past to touch this life. You."
Her fingers curled against the table, her grip tightening. "Well, it just did."
A flicker of something crossed his face—regret, hesitation, something else. But he didn't deny it.
The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words. She studied him, waiting. And finally, he gave in.
"Four years ago, I wasn't just some nameless kid running with a gang." His voice was quieter now, but the weight behind it made every syllable land like a stone. "I was the one leading it."
She froze.
The library, the books, the students—all of it felt distant, as if the world had momentarily dimmed around them.
"You were the leader?"
A slow nod. "Yeah."
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression clouded with something old—something that had never quite healed. "It wasn't just a group of delinquents picking fights. We built something powerful. Something structured. We had influence—businesses, underground fight circuits… even corrupt officials under our control." His voice darkened. "We weren't just surviving. We were ruling."
A chill ran down her spine.
"But then… why did they turn on you?"
His fingers drummed lightly against the wood, his jaw tightening. "Because they thought they were stronger."
She blinked. "What?"
He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. "At first, we all had the same goal. I built something they believed in, something they thought they needed me for. But power shifts. Ambition grows. Some of them started thinking… why follow when they could lead?"
Her brows furrowed. "But you built it. You made it what it was."
"And that's exactly why they wanted me gone." His smirk was bitter, almost mocking—though whether it was aimed at them or himself, she couldn't tell. "They didn't want to live in my shadow anymore. They wanted control—without me."
She exhaled sharply, realization dawning. "So they didn't just get rid of you out of fear… They thought they could do better."
His eyes darkened, memories flickering behind them like ghosts. "Exactly."
She could hear it in his voice—the edge of something deep, something unresolved.
"They believed my way of leading was outdated. Too restrictive. They wanted power, chaos—the freedom to do things their way." His fingers curled slightly against the table. "So they turned on me. A vote. Majority rules, right?"
Her throat tightened. "And just like that… you lost everything."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "I let them take it."
She stiffened. "Why?"
His expression shifted—something raw beneath the surface, something rare.
"Because he was the one who convinced me to start it in the first place," he murmured.
A shadow passed over his face.
She frowned. "Who?"
"My best friend." His words were laced with something bitter. "The only person I trusted completely. He told me we could change things. That we could build something bigger than ourselves. So I did it—I made the gang, I set the rules, I turned us into something unstoppable."
A pause. A slow inhale.
"And then, when he saw how much power I had… he decided he wanted it for himself."
Her fingers dug into the fabric of her sleeve.
"He was the one who came up with the vote. The rule about majority rule? That was his idea too." His chuckle was hollow. "And in the end, he used it against me. I could have fought back. Could have crushed them before they ever had the chance. But…"
His voice faltered, his gaze fixed on the table.
"What would that have proven?" he muttered. "That I was exactly what he claimed I was?"
His fingers curled against the table again, his knuckles paling. "The thing is… if he had just asked, I would have given it to him. I never wanted to rule forever. I built it for him. Because he asked me to. Because I believed in him. If he had just told me he wanted to lead… I would have stepped aside."
She inhaled softly, the weight of his words settling in.
"But he never gave me that chance."
She wanted to say something—anything—but another question gnawed at her.
"And after they took over?" she asked. "What happened to them?"
His expression didn't change, but his answer came without hesitation.
"They fell apart within a year."
Her eyes widened.
"The ones who took over started fighting among themselves. They wanted power, but they didn't understand leadership. The structure collapsed. Most of them either turned on each other or got taken out by rival factions." His voice was unreadable. "The empire I built crumbled the second they tried to claim it."
She swallowed hard.
"And now… they're looking for you."
His lips pressed together. "Seems like it. Someone survived. Someone with enough influence to start pulling strings again. And they know I'm out here."
A cold realization crept over her.
"That hologram last night… That wasn't just some old enemy reaching out. That was a warning."
His eyes met hers at last. Something flickered in them—something unreadable.
"That's the part I don't know yet."
She hesitated for only a second before reaching out. Her fingers lightly brushed over his hand.
He stiffened slightly at the contact but didn't pull away.
"Then maybe you don't have to figure it out alone," she said softly.
A long pause. Then, finally, he let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening just slightly.
"Guess trouble really does have a way of finding me."
She smirked, tilting her head. "Good thing you're not facing it alone."
The past still loomed between them, heavy and unshaken. But for the first time in years, he wasn't carrying it alone.