The Price of Being Seen

—Previous Evening—

Lis slammed the door shut, the sound ricocheting like a gunshot through the quiet of her dorm room. She leaned against the wood, barricading herself against the world outside, her breath ragged and shallow. The damp towel clung to her chest, hugged tightly despite the icy seep of water into her uniform, the chill spreading like a stain across her ribs.

"You're safe."

She shook her head violently, as if dislodging the words from her skull. Safe? Since when did Kiria and safe share the same breath? Fragments of the encounter flickered behind her eyelids: Kiria's crackling fingertips, the smirk that never softened, the way her gaze never left Lis. "Drowned kitten". The words sounded almost affectionate. Almost.

Lis pressed the towel to her mouth, inhaling deeply. The scent of soap—floral and faintly chemical—filled her lungs. She held it there for a moment, the familiarity of it steadying her racing heart, before exhaling slowly, her breath warm against the fabric.

Why did she let me go?

The question gnawed, relentless.

Did she grow bored? Find a better toy? She said she'd had her fill…

Lis's face contorted, her nails digging crescents into the towel.

Then why talk to me? Why notice me?

The towel fell to her lap, forgotten. Her reflection wavered in the vanity mirror—a girl fraying at the edges, freckles like ash scattered over pale skin.

What am I to her?

—Now—

The hallway buzzed with the usual chaos, but Lis moved through it like a shadow. Books clutched to her chest, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the floor. Her mind churned with the same questions that had haunted her all morning:

Kiria did it, didn't she?

Horrifying images flickered in her mind— blistered skin, the stench of burnt flesh, screams - none of which she seen, but could imagine all too well.

Will she do it to me too? What can I do to stay safe? Will she—?

An unfamiliar tingle crawled up her neck—as if someone was watching her.

Some guy juggled fire orbs, his laughter bright. Kiria's lackeys leaned against lockers, wands sparking with mischief. A group of girls compared spell-runes, their chatter airy and careless. No one glanced her way.

Always nothing.

She turned—

—and collided with something solid. Her books scattered. "S-sorry!"

A laugh, low and dripping with mockery. "Watch your step, stray."

Lis froze. Above her stood Mina Gratzia, second-year terror and dethroned "Shadow Queen." Her burgundy hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing a face that was all sharp angles and sharper smiles. Her lips curled like a predator's, and her eyes—narrowed and glinting—held a cruelty that made Lis's stomach twist. At her wrist coiled a black serpent, its scales gleaming like tarnished obsidian, its eyes blacker than the void between stars.

"Look what slithered into my path." Mina slowly moved forward, her movements deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey. Her smile was a blade, cutting through Lis's fragile composure. "Kiria's little mutt. Lost?" Her head tilted in mock concern.

Lis scrambled for her books, but Mina's boot came down on a page with a sharp rip.

"Aw, did I startle you?" Mina tilted her head, her expression a mockery of sympathy. Behind her, two lackeys prepared the scene, their presence alone enough to herd curious onlookers away. The hallway emptied, leaving only the hiss of Mina's serpent and the weight of her gaze. "Poor girl, did you lose your master?"

Lis's throat tightened. "Sh-she's not—"

"Not what? Not your owner?" Mina's laugh was honeyed poison. "Please. You're the chew toy she hasn't tossed yet. But don't fret—that bitch will ditch you soon enough."

Lis flinched. No. Kiria wouldn't…

But the thought unraveled. Why wouldn't she? I'm just a nobody to her. A game. A distraction. What am I even doing—?

"You're pathetic," Mina purred, her voice dripping with disdain. "But you're not the problem. It's her.Kiria thinks she can waltz in here, take whatever she wants, and no one will dare push back." Her words overflowed with anger before she cleared her throat and returned to her honeyed false tone. "Well, guess what?" She leaned in, her rosewater perfume cloying and suffocating. "I'm not afraid of her. And you? You'll be the perfect message."

"N-no," Lis stammered, trying to stand.

Mina's boot came down on her ankle, pinning her in place. "No, no, stray. I'm not done with you yet."

The serpent struck.

Fangs sank into Lis's wrist—cold, so cold, like liquid ice flooding her veins. Her muscles locked, her breath hitching as the venom spread, a firestorm of pain erupting beneath her skin.