Chapter 7

A week passed, and Athasia found herself reluctantly slipping into the routines of her new life.

Cresthill High, the elite private school she now attended, was as flashy as the privileged students that roamed its halls. Everything about it screamed wealth and status—from the marble-tiled floors to the expensive equipment in every classroom. For most students, it was a world of social hierarchies, gossip, and prestige. For Athasia, it was nothing but a new battleground.

She adapted quickly. In her line of work—or rather, her past life—adaptation was survival. It was easy for her to slip into the role of the quiet, mysterious student who kept to herself. The memories of the body's original owner served as a guide, giving her enough information to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

But beneath the surface, Athasia was anything but idle.

The strange dreams continued to plague her every night. The cold darkness, the restraints, the ghostly whispers calling her name, and the recurring murmur of "sixth floor." Each time she woke, she felt as if something unseen was pulling her deeper into this mystery. Her instincts told her it wasn't just a dream—it was a message, a warning, or perhaps both.

Rather than let it unnerve her, Athasia channeled her unease into action.

Her new apartment, though modest, had one saving grace: a decent computer setup. With her exceptional skills in hacking, honed during her years as an assassin, she delved into the school's digital infrastructure. It wasn't long before she gained access to the school's administrative files, databases, and even the private communication networks of its students.

Cresthill High had a long, complicated history, and it didn't take Athasia long to learn that the sixth floor had been off-limits for years. Officially, it was because of structural instability, but unofficially, rumors pointed to something darker. Murmurs of strange events and unexplained tragedies surrounded that part of the school.

But what intrigued her even more than the school's secrets were the students themselves.

Athasia had always had a sharp memory, a trait that had saved her countless times in her previous life. Now, she used it to study her classmates, memorizing their faces, names, and habits. Social hierarchies became clear to her within days. The wealthy elite ruled the school, their popularity often tied to their parents' power or fame. Beneath them were the scholarship students and those trying desperately to stay unnoticed.

Her eyes scanned through student profiles one evening when something—or rather, someone—caught her attention.

"Mira…" she whispered under her breath.

Her fingers froze over the keyboard as her green eyes fixated on the picture on the screen. It was a student record for a girl named Mira Caldwell, and the face staring back at her was both familiar and unfamiliar.

The short, sharp haircut. The confident smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. And her eyes—the same mischievous, knowing gaze Athasia had come to associate with someone from her past.

"Mira," she repeated, her voice softer this time.

It couldn't be a coincidence. The name, the resemblance—it was too uncanny. In her previous life, Mira had been her closest companion, a partner in crime, and the only person she trusted completely. But that Mira had died years ago in a mission gone horribly wrong. Athasia had seen her fall, and she had sworn never to let herself grow attached to anyone again.

Yet here she was, staring at a version of Mira who shouldn't exist.

The girl on the screen was one of Cresthill's star students, the only daughter of a wealthy family, doted on and admired by everyone. She was everything Athasia's Mira had never been—a life of privilege rather than hardship.

Athasia leaned back in her chair, her mind racing.

"Is it really you?" she murmured.

Her chest tightened as old memories flooded back—laughter shared in dark alleys, whispered plans over the hum of city streets, and the painful final moments she had tried so hard to bury.

She didn't believe in coincidences. If this Mira was truly her friend reborn, then fate had brought them back together for a reason. But was she the same Mira? And did she even remember her past life?

Athasia's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Looks like this life won't be as boring as I thought."

With that, she shut the laptop, her resolve hardening. First, she'd unravel the mystery of the sixth floor. Then, she'd find out just who this Mira really was.