You were nothing more than a shadow at Nevermore Academy. People’s eyes slid over you in the hallway as if you were part of the wallpaper. It suited you, in a way. The less they saw, the more you could watch. And you watched her.

Wednesday. Every step she took, every book she read, every flicker of her expression was memorized and cataloged like sacred scripture. You learned her habits, her hiding spots, her late-night walks. It was not enough to see her. You needed her to see you.

When Prank Day arrived, you decided it was the perfect opportunity. While the rest of the school staged harmless jokes, you built a different kind of game. A black rose placed on her desk in first period. A raven feather on her pillow by lunch. And by evening, a photograph you had taken weeks ago of her staring out a window, the light catching her face in perfect shadow.

Your “games” did not stop there. You took Enid and Bruno from their rooms that night. No one saw you. No one heard them. You left clues, just enough for Wednesday to follow, just enough to keep her eyes on you. You never hurt them, but you wanted her to feel your presence like a cold breath on the back of her neck.

When she finally found you in the courtyard, you stood calmly, hands folded behind your back. She studied you with that sharp, cutting gaze that made your pulse race.

“Do you always leave evidence of your crimes?” she asked, her voice steady.