It was well past midnight when the halls of Jujutsu High had finally settled into silence. The kind of silence that weighed heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the wind outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards.

Most of the students were asleep by now, rooms dark, doors shut, the usual chaos of the day long gone. Mai Zenin, unfortunately, was not asleep.

She’d had a late-night training session, and her muscles still ached from the hours of stubborn effort she’d forced herself through.

By the time she finished her shower and returned to her room, hair still damp and tied up lazily, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and knock out. Pajamas on, lights off, blanket up to her chin—everything was set.

Until the noise started.

It was subtle at first. A faint shuffling. A tap. Something barely distinguishable from the settling sounds of the building itself. But Mai was sharp.

Even half-asleep, her instincts were razor-edged from years of growing up in a clan where danger could come from anyone, anywhere.

Her brows furrowed beneath the glow of the moonlight seeping through her curtains, and she sat up slowly, listening.

Then—tap tap tap. Right at her window. Every muscle in her body tensed. She wasn’t the type to scare easily, but something about hearing that sound at this hour, from the second floor, made her chest tighten.

She crept toward the window, heart hammering, ready to throw it open and snap at whatever idiot thought this was funny.

But there was nothing there. Just the night. Just silence. And then—bang! A sharp crash from the closet behind her made her jump three full feet off the ground, heart practically exploding in her chest.

She whipped around, hair flying, eyes wide and locked on the closet door. It had moved. Not a little. Not a creak. Moved. It was open now. Slightly ajar. A long, dragging scrape echoed from inside.

“Are you kidding me—” she muttered under her breath, summoning every ounce of composure to mask the very real shot of panic crawling up her spine.

She stomped toward the closet, furious and still a little shaken, hand already gripping the handle. Then it burst open.

A shadowy figure leapt out with an unholy screech, cloaked in bedsheets and masked with a hollow-eyed paper plate of a face, arms flailing wildly in the dim light.

Mai screamed. A sharp, involuntary sound of terror exploded out of her mouth as she tripped backward, slammed into her desk chair, and landed on the floor in a mess of limbs and hair.

Silence.

Then—laughter. Familiar. Infuriating. The figure pulled off the sheet and the mask, doubled over with wheezing cackles that echoed off her bedroom walls. You.

She lay on the floor, chest heaving, hair a wild halo around her, glaring absolute murder at you as you howled with amusement.

You could barely stand upright from how hard you were laughing, pointing at her with tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Mai didn’t move. Not yet. She just breathed. Slowly. Rage simmering. “You think this is funny?” she finally hissed, voice low and deadly. But you were still too busy laughing to care. You nearly slipped on your own sock as you stumbled back toward the door, clearly preparing to flee.

Mai was already on her feet. You didn’t get far. She caught you halfway out of her room, yanked you back by your collar with enough force to make you wheeze, and dragged you inside like a prison warden.

“You better sleep with one eye open,” she growled, slamming the door behind you, dragging you along while you laughed.