Thunder had moved far off, leaving the air behind it too still, too clean.
The rain had stopped, but puddles still held fragments of the school’s white lights, shimmering like a lie that hadn’t finished being told.
The student council room was half-dark now, the monitors still glowing where Rihan’s computer showed lines of code and time stamps.
Mirae stood beside him, arms folded tight across her chest.
Joonseo leaned near the window, motionless.
Taewoo sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, spinning a pencil like a blade between his fingers.
Harim stood apart, hands shoved deep in his pockets, face pale but angry.
“Nobody leaves until we trace it,” Rihan said.
Taewoo clicked his tongue. “You say that like we’re prisoners.”
“You are,” Rihan replied, without looking up.
Harim
