❥⁠˙⁠๑ Chapter 45

A/N: From here on, the writing style will not be from Seth's POV or any other specific POV anymore. I'll handle that later.

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Seth pushed open the door to the detention room, barely glancing up as he stepped inside. It was a routine at this point—same dull classroom, same uncomfortable wooden chairs, same silent minutes ticking away until he was allowed to leave.

But today, something felt off.

He slowed his steps.

Across the room, Ethan and Seira were already standing by one of the desks. Seira's desk. They weren't just standing there—they were completely fixated on something. Ethan had his arms crossed, staring at it with an unimpressed frown, while Seira's hands hovered uncertainly near the surface, her posture tense.

Seth frowned. "What happened?"

Neither of them answered immediately.

Ethan glanced at Seira, then back at the desk, before exhaling sharply through his nose. Seira, however, didn't move. Her gaze was locked onto the wooden surface, her lips pressed together like she was trying to decide if she should say anything at all.

Something about her expression made Seth feel uneasy.

He stepped closer, finally able to see what they were looking at.

His stomach twisted.

The entire surface of the desk was covered in deeply etched carvings. Someone had taken a sharp object—maybe a knife, maybe a pair of scissors, maybe even a key—and dug into the wood over and over, leaving behind jagged words and rough, uneven scratches. Some lines were so deep that the wood had splintered around them.

It wasn't just mindless scribbles. It was deliberate.

And worse—it was personal.

Scattered across the desk, in various sizes and angles, were cruel, mocking sentences.

"Seira Fallon: Only noticed when she messes up."

"She talks, but no one listens."

"No presence, no importance—just a passing extra."

"They don't even like you. They tolerate you."

"Why are you still here?"

Among the insults was a single familiar sketch—a sunflower, drawn in rough, uneven strokes.

Seth's jaw tightened.

Seira finally spoke, her voice quiet but edged with something unsteady. "That—" She pointed at the sunflower and the largest set of words, her fingers curling slightly. "That's from my notebook."

Ethan turned his head sharply. "What?"

She exhaled, her shoulders stiff. "I lost it, remember ? I thought I misplaced it, but someone must have taken it, read it, and—" She gestured at the desk, her voice tightening. "—put it here instead."

Seth's eyes darkened.

Ethan clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Who, though? It's the holidays. No one's here but us." He leaned against the desk, tilting his head mockingly. "Unless the principal sneaks in after hours, hunched over like some gremlin, carving insults into desks just for fun." His expression turned exaggeratedly thoughtful. "Maybe that's why she always looks like she has two sets of eyes—one for glaring, the other for vandalism."

Seira let out a short breath, but she wasn't amused.

The silence stretched between them.

Seth hadn't said a word yet.

Seira shifted uncomfortably and glanced at him—but when she did, something about his expression made her pause.

His usual lazy, indifferent attitude was gone. His posture was rigid, his jaw clenched, his eyes still locked onto the desk. His fingers, curled loosely at his sides, twitched slightly.

And then, without warning, he reached out.

His hand slammed down onto the desk with a force that made both Ethan and Seira jolt. The loud, abrupt bang echoed through the nearly empty classroom.

Neither of them spoke.

Seira blinked, startled, while Ethan straightened slightly, eyebrows raised.

Seth finally looked up. His expression wasn't just annoyed—it was furious.

His voice, when he spoke, was dangerously low. "Who the hell did this?"

Seira and Ethan exchanged glances. Seth never reacted to things like this. He was the type to roll his eyes at drama, shrug off insults, and ignore anything that didn't directly involve him.

But this?

His anger was real. And it was sharp.