The soft hiss of the shower echoed through the dorm's shared bathroom just past dawn. Ash stirred in bed, rolling onto his side, still tangled in dreams. Leo opened one eye blearily, his mind already ticking through the day's schedule. But as usual, Nox was already up.
The scent of fresh coffee lingered faintly in the air. The burner on the portable stove still glowed red, barely cooling. His dark clothes were always pristine. Mask in place. Hair slightly damp. Only those sharp violet cat-eyes visible beneath the sculpted black lines of his ever-present mask.
Ash mumbled, "How does he even manage to shower, dress, and prep coffee without making a sound?"
Leo grunted, sitting up. "seven months now, and we still haven't caught him eating."
Ash yawned, rubbing his face. "I swear he doesn't eat. He probably just charges in the sun like a lizard or something."
On the shared desk, two wrapped sandwiches sat. One labeled with Ash's messy name, the other in a neat, minimal scrawl: Leo.
Ash beamed. "He saw us eating these before the midterm critiques, didn't he? Creepy but thoughtful."
Leo didn't smile, but his gaze lingered on the sandwich. "Yeah. He sees everything."
By late morning, the lecture hall buzzed with energy. The professor paced at the front, a massive slide projected behind her: "Urban Legends and Folklore: Societal Mirrors and Warnings."
"The concept of the 'watcher in the window,'" she said, tapping the pointer against the slide, "originated in post-war Europe. A symbol of both comfort and paranoia—someone always watching over, but with unknown intent."
Ash nudged Leo. "Sounds like someone we know."
Leo smirked faintly. "Watcher in the window. More like 'cat in the shadows.'"
Ash chuckled. "He's probably sitting behind us right now, listening. Ready to pounce."
From the back of the room, Nox leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Silent. Observant.
The professor continued, "And let's not forget the 'Black-Eyed Children.' Mysterious entities who appear at doors and ask to be let in. Their presence often represents humanity's fear of the unknown."
Ash turned fully to Leo, whispering, "Still not as scary as Nox. Imagine him knocking on your door in the middle of the night asking for salt."
Leo's eyes narrowed slightly. "I wouldn't say scary. Intimidating, sure. But not threatening. Not to us, anyway."
He didn't mention the creeping suspicion still lodged in the back of his mind. His father's call replayed over and over:
"Two men dead. One with every bone shattered. Who's helping you, Leo?"
He remembered the beach. The quiet. The stillness.
The safest he'd felt in months.
His gaze drifted back to the silent figure by the wall.
Yeah. It had to be him.
Afternoons at the dorm had fallen into an odd rhythm.
Ash sprawled out in front of the low screen, game controller in hand, fully immersed in a brightly animated battle royale. "No, no, no—DIE ALREADY!"
Leo sat at the shared table, sketching out concepts for their final project. "Your strategy's all over the place."
Ash huffed. "Says the guy whose idea of fun is dissecting mafia symbolism in Renaissance sculpture lectures."
Leo gave him a faint smile averted his gaze, then his eyes shifted toward the window. "Hey. Nox's mug is still hot."
Ash blinked. "You think he left?"
"He didn't sleep again last night."
Ash paused the game, glancing toward Nox's empty desk. "He was here when I woke up. That's two nights now, right?"
"Yeah."
Ash leaned back, thoughtful. "You think he's, like… okay?"
Leo didn't answer immediately.
Ash filled the silence. "I mean, he doesn't talk much, but the stuff he makes? That sculpture of the twins? The painting of the broken tower? He sees things. Deep things."
Leo looked over, curious. "You really like his work."
Ash flushed a bit. "I mean, yeah. It's raw. Like, haunted but alive. He's got talent."
Leo nodded slowly. "He does."
They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
By dusk, Nox's boots hit the concrete rooftop. The city sprawled before him, bathed in cold orange light. His breathing was steady now, the earlier sluggishness dulled by black coffee and sheer will.
Weakness, he thought, flexing his fingers. This body should be better. Three days shouldn't matter now training it for two days it is getting better.
But it did. The tightness in his muscles, the faint tremble in his legs. He hadn't earned this exhaustion. He hated that it took root so easily.but he will eliminate it.
He leaned against the low wall, watching students move like ants below. Behind him, Leo and Ash laughed at some joke, their voices muted through the walls.
He didn't hate the sound.
Meanwhile, down the corridor in an unused wing, Leo stepped through a dimly lit doorway. A tall man in a suit leaned against the windowsill.
"Report," Leo said, his tone clipped.
The man handed him a folder. "The politician went rogue. Aligned with the Lisbon faction. Orders are out."
Leo skimmed the document, his expression unreadable. "Understood. Any new hits?"
"None for you. But someone's been cleaning up for you."
Leo's grip tightened. "I know."
Later that night, far from the campus lights, Nox crouched atop a silent rooftop.
His rifle was steady, wind gauge set, breath controlled.
Through the scope, the rogue politician who he got paid to take down,adjusted his tie before stepping into a waiting car.
One breath.
One purpose.
The trigger pulled smooth. The shot echoed once.
A clean end.
Nox disassembled the weapon swiftly, disappearing into the alley's dark maw like a phantom.
His punishment was done.
The body may be weak.
But the will?
Still sharp.
Still deadly.
Still making money .
End of Chapter 29