From void profound 4

Eva tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So, I'm a she-devil now, huh?" she asked, her voice calm yet unsettling.

"Oh, crap," the fourth thug muttered as he toppled backwards off his chair.

"Miss Devil—I mean, Miss Eva!" stammered the third thug, trying to compose himself. "We've been taking real good care of your demon dog—I mean, your pet, Goldie."

Eva stood silently, her piercing blue eyes scanning the group. After a long, tense pause, she simply said, "Thanks."

The thugs visibly relaxed. "No problem!" the third thug replied quickly, before barking orders to the others. "Someone, go get her demon—I mean, her pet!"

"I got it!" blurted the fourth thug as he scrambled to his feet and rushed inside the house.

A moment later, Goldie, a golden retriever, came bounding out, tail wagging furiously. The dog spotted Eva and bolted toward her, leaping up with uncontained excitement.

Eva crouched slightly to pet Goldie, her expression softening. "Good girl," she murmured. She straightened and turned to leave, Goldie trotting beside her.

"Till next time," Eva said over her shoulder.

"Bye-bye! Please don't come back," the first thug muttered under his breath as he slumped in his chair, relief washing over him.

***

Goldie dashed around the house, her tail wagging like a propeller. Her excitement filled the air, making the old house feel alive. Eva watched her with a small nod, a rare sense of peace settling over her. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was truly home.

She pulled out her phone and opened the streaming app. A notification lit up her screen—JustAlex had posted a new video. This time, he was attempting to act out a viral voiceover. It wasn't perfect—his delivery was a little stiff—but there was something different about him. His eyes held a spark, a quiet determination that hadn't been there before.

Eva's lips curled into a bright smile as she liked the video. She typed out a quick comment: Damn, you look good.

Then she rewatched the video. Once. Twice. By the third time, her smile had grown wider, her cheeks lightly flushed.

Meanwhile, Goldie sat patiently by the bed, her bright eyes fixed on Eva. She let out a soft whine, her tail thumping against the floor. This was their usual playtime, and Goldie was eager to get started.

But Eva didn't move. Thirty minutes passed, and she was still glued to her phone, replaying the same video.

Goldie finally had enough. She glared at the device, letting out an annoyed whimper, her patience wearing thin. But Eva, lost in the screen, paid her no attention.

The retriever let out a low huff, clearly offended. What could be more interesting than me?

Goldie had had enough. With a sudden burst of determination, she lunged for Eva's phone, trying to snatch it with her mouth. Eva yanked the device away just in time and slowly turned to face Goldie. Her expression was blank, but her voice carried a sharp edge.

"I see now why they call you demon dog," Eva said flatly.

Goldie tilted her head, her tail wagging cautiously as though trying to gauge whether Eva was truly upset. Without another word, Eva stood, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the door. Goldie barked happily and trotted after her.

They walked all the way back to the thugs' rundown house. Eva didn't bother knocking politely. She pounded on the door with enough force to make the wood rattle.

"Who the fu—" thug 1 began angrily, opening the door. His expression changed instantly when he saw Eva. "Oh! Miss Eva. H-how can I help you?"

"I need you to take care of Goldie for the night," Eva said, her tone brooking no argument.

"What?!" thug 1 exclaimed in horror. His face drained of colour.

"Thank you," Eva said curtly, ignoring their protests as she turned to leave.

Goldie tried to follow, her golden fur brushing against Eva's leg. "Stay," Eva commanded. Her voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for disobedience.

Goldie whimpered and cried, her ears drooping as she watched Eva walk away without looking back.

Thug 2 leaned out cautiously. "What's taking so long?" he asked thug 1, who hadn't moved an inch. Then he noticed Goldie. The dog sat at the doorstep, growling softly, her sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. Both men froze.

Meanwhile, back at her house, Eva slipped onto her bed, phone in hand. She opened the streaming app again and saw Alex's video still on her screen. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she hit play.

And so, the night passed with Eva replaying the same video, utterly absorbed, while Goldie terrorized the thugs from their doorstep.

***

The next morning, Peter woke up early, laced up his sneakers, and went for a run. The crisp air and quiet streets helped clear his mind. Afterward, he took a quick shower, dressed, and grabbed his bag, ready for another day at the university.

Michael was already waiting in the car when Peter stepped outside. "Took you long enough," Michael said with a smirk as Peter got in.

The drive to the university was uneventful until they reached the entrance. As Peter was about to get out of the car, Michael glanced at the fuel gauge. "Wait. I'm out of fuel."

Peter gave his brother a flat look. "Really, dude?"

"Yes, really," Michael replied, keeping a straight face that Peter didn't buy for a second.

"You don't need fuel money, Michael," Peter said, annoyed.

Michael raised a hand, feigning innocence. "I'm just saying, you wouldn't want me stranded, would you?"

Peter sighed and stepped out. "Fine. I'll send it to you," he said, adjusting his bag.

"And Peter," Michael called out as Peter shut the door, "the PS5 just came out."

Peter paused mid-step, turned back, and flipped Michael the middle finger.

As Peter walked away, he was too distracted muttering curses under his breath to notice where he was going. He took a few steps backward to glance at Michael, who was laughing as he drove off, and—

Thud.

Peter collided with someone, nearly knocking them over.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said quickly, turning to apologize to the person he'd bumped into. His words trailed off when he saw her.

She was stunning—a dark-skinned girl with striking features and an aura that left Peter momentarily speechless. She looked equally surprised.

"Hi, I'm Peter," he said awkwardly, offering a crooked smile.

"Mercedes," she replied, smiling back.

Before Peter could say anything else, Jane appeared out of nowhere, her arms crossed and a scowl etched on her face. "And I'm Jane," she said curtly.

"And I'm Alan," chimed in Alan, a redhead with freckles and brown eyes, grinning as he slung an arm around Jane's shoulders.

Mercedes blinked, a little taken aback by the sudden introductions. "Nice to meet you all. I've got a class, so… later," she said, flashing a polite smile before walking off.

As she disappeared into the crowd, Alan let out a low whistle. "Damn, she's fine, right, Jane?" he teased, giving Jane a playful nudge.

Jane's glare could have melted steel. Peter chuckled as he gently removed Alan's arm from Jane's shoulder. "Dude, stop," Peter said, shaking his head.

Jane huffed and turned on her heel, walking off without another word.

Peter watched her go, confusion written all over his face. "What's her problem?" he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Could she be… jealous?" A hopeful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Alan snorted. "You wish. She's probably just racist or something."

Peter rolled his eyes. "She's not," he said firmly, though secretly, he hoped jealousy was the answer.

***

Mercedes was walking to class when her friends caught up with her, their voices bubbling with excitement.

"Girl, you were just talking to Peter!" one of them exclaimed, practically bouncing with energy.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "That's the Peter you guys are always going on about?"

"Uh, yeah!" another friend chimed in. "Isn't he so hot?"

Mercedes allowed a small smile to curve her lips. "Yeah, he is."

"God, I want a piece of him," one of her friends said dreamily.

"Don't make it weird," Mercedes said, chuckling but shaking her head at the comment.

As they walked, Mercedes found her thoughts drifting back to Peter. She couldn't help but hope they'd run into each other again soon.

***

Jane scowled all the way to the lab, her frustration radiating like a storm cloud. The other students instinctively stepped aside, unwilling to cross her path when she was in one of her moods.

She made her way to her private corner in the lab, a space she'd claimed for herself, and pulled out her tools and equipment. Several devices she used during diabolist missions were damaged, and she needed to fix them.

"He looks at every pretty thing that walks by," Jane muttered under her breath, her fingers twitching as she inspected a torn wire.

Grabbing her soldering iron, she began to work, her thoughts churning. "Like I don't even exist," she mumbled, her frustration making her movements jerky.

As she carefully pressed the iron to the wire, a quiet question slipped out. "Aren't I pretty too?"

"You are," a voice answered casually.

Jane froze. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. "Mind your own business, Derrick," she snapped, her irritation flaring.

Derrick, the teaching assistant, leaned on the edge of the workbench next to her. "What's got you all worked up this time?" he asked, his tone light but probing.

Jane bit her lip, debating whether to confide in him. "Do guys... look at other girls even if they already like someone?"

Derrick tilted his head, thinking. "Yeah. It doesn't mean anything, though. Just like if you saw a guy with a great body and looked—it doesn't mean you like your crush any less."

Jane frowned, her soldering iron still in hand. "So it's meaningless?"

"Yup. Completely. So stop stressing about it," Derrick said with a grin, pointing at her work. "Because right now, your soldering looks like a bird's nest."

Before she could snap at him, Derrick ruffled her hair and walked off.

Jane sat there, her mood slightly lifted. She glanced down at the wire she'd been soldering and grimaced. It was a mess.

***

Peter settled into his seat as the lecturer walked into the classroom, setting down his notes on the desk. "I hope your assignments are coming along well, considering the reports are due tomorrow," the lecturer announced.

Peter froze. His stomach dropped. "What assignment?" he whispered urgently to Alan, who was seated beside him.

Alan leaned over and whispered back, "Suggest a new product and write your market entry strategy."

"When was it given?" Peter hissed.

"Four weeks ago," Alan replied nonchalantly, as if that should have been obvious.

Peter's eyes widened in panic, and he turned fully to Alan, his voice barely a whisper. "How did I not know about this?"

Alan shrugged. "You were off on your tutoring trip, remember?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Peter asked, his whisper edging on a hiss.

Before Alan could reply, the lecturer cleared his throat loudly. Peter turned back to see the entire class staring at him, and the lecturer's eyes bore down on him like twin lasers.

"Since you two seem to find it appropriate to hold a conversation during my lecture," the lecturer began, his tone icy, "I'm assuming your report and PowerPoint presentation are ready. I look forward to seeing your work tomorrow, Mr. Davis and Mr. Andrews."

Peter's face turned pale. "Tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alan interjected, his voice weak, "wasn't the presentation supposed to be next week?"

The lecturer's stern expression didn't waver. "For interrupting my lecture, the two of you will present tomorrow. Consider it a lesson in punctuality and respect."

Peter slumped in his chair, his mind racing. He had just found out about the assignment, and now he had less than a day to complete it and prepare a presentation. He was doomed.

"Great job, Peter," Alan muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"Oh, shut up," Peter shot back, his mind already frantically trying to come up with a plan to salvage the situation.