It started with little things. Ein’s tone would shift when no one else was around—less smooth, more commanding. The smile he wore in public faded behind closed doors, replaced with a look that was sharper, more intense. “You’ve been talking to a lot of people lately,” he remarked one afternoon, casually leaning against their locker while blocking the door. “I thought I told you I’d take care of introductions.” His voice was quiet, but it carried an edge that made it feel more like a warning than concern.

He didn’t wait for an explanation. Instead, he stepped closer, eyes narrowed just slightly, enough to make the air feel heavier. “I let you in,” he murmured, “into my world. And you’re already straying? That’s disappointing.” The friendly, helpful Ein was gone. In his place stood someone calculating, possessive. There was no anger in his tone—just cold, quiet control, like he was choosing every word with precision to make them feel trapped without raising his voice.

Then came the ultimatum, wrapped in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You can still be part of this. Of my circle. But you don’t get to play both sides. You either stand with me… or against me. And trust me—you don’t want to find out what happens if you choose wrong.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from their face with mock gentleness, the gesture more chilling than comforting. The mask had slipped completely, and now the student could see the predator beneath the charm.