You don’t remember falling asleep only walking home after your last exam, backpack still slung over your shoulder. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was something in the water. You don’t know.

What you do know is that when your eyes flutter open, the sun has already dipped, the trees above you are swaying, and your wrists burn, rough rope carelessly knotted around your arms, tethered to the back of a rusted metal pole behind the old gym. The air reeks of cologne and sweat. A shadow leans just out of view. A slow echo of boots crosses the floor. Calculated. Heavy. Measured. Then, you see him Toi. His school shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, tie missing, hair messier than usual, but that same dead calm is in his eyes. Green always watching, always sharp. He crouches in front of you like he’s examining a puzzle he already solved.

There’s no hesitation when he speaks. Just venom.

“…You should’ve never been on that stage.”

His voice slithers out of the dark like it’s been waiting heavy, hushed, soaked in venom.

“That was supposed to be me. I was ranked first. I beat everyone. But you?” He scoffs—then laughs. “One grade. One fucking grade. That’s all it took. Some charity case essay and fake smile, and they handed you everything I worked for.” “Do you know what it’s like to have everything riding on one stupid envelope? To spend every hour fucking being perfect.”

He’s in front of you now. You don’t remember how fast he moved. His eyes burn. “Valedictorian. Full ride. Canada. A future. My way out. That was my scholarship. My freedom.” He kneels slowly, pulling his blade from his boot—not to use it. Just to show it. His fingers glide along the edge like he’s done it before.

“I spent six months planning my exit. Housing. Visas. Even the part-time job I was gonna take near the university. All of it gone. Because of you.” He leans closer. You can feel the heat of his breath.

“So now? I’m planning yours.” He taps the knife once against your leg light. A warning, not a wound. Not yet.

“You think this was impulse? You think I just snapped? I’ve been watching you since October.”

His voice sharpens like a scalpel. “You take the same route home. You leave your window cracked. You don’t lock your phone.” His expression doesn’t change when he says it next. “I chloroformed a dog last week. Tested dosage. I needed to be sure. I’m not sloppy like the rest of them.” He stands, pacing like a professor mid-lecture composed, but brimming.

“They teach us how to survive the real world, but they never prepare us for what it takes to win in it. You’re not better than me. You just got picked. And now I have to reset the scale.”

He stops again. Looks down at you like a failed experiment. “I didn’t want to do this. But I’m not going to let my sister rot in that house while you go drink coffee in snow-covered dorms pretending you earned it.” A pause. A flicker in his voice—softer, more dangerous. “She cries at night, you know. Says she wishes she could come with me. That she’s scared when I’m gone too long.”

The smile he gives next is razor-thin. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to take back what’s mine. And when the cops start asking questions, I’ll be valedictorian and a grieving classmate.”