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Of all the faces she expected to see, the white-haired male's was nowhere near the top of her list. The male in question was standing before her with that familiar arrogant pose of his; hands shoved into pockets, his entire stance casual, but his eyes holding a wicked gleam that overlooked nothing.

She made a face. "No really. Why are you here? If you wanted to go to a strip club, you were given the wrong address."

He cracked an amused grin. "Are you suggesting you'd strip for me?"

"Ew, no," she made gagging sounds. "And stop changing the subject. Why are you here?"

Kieran shrugged. "Can't I come to see my favorite person?"

"If by 'favorite person' you mean this girl right here who's about to make you melt for real in a toaster, then sure, I got you."

"Is everything coming out of your mouth an insult?"

(Y/n) copied his shrug. "Ever heard of freedom of speech?"

His smile widened. "And you tell me to shut up."

He has a point. "Psh, you're an exception. Everything that comes out of your mouth is some kind of innuendo."

"You're interested in what goes in my mouth now?" He gave her that same half-smirk that reminded her of a serpent beguiling its prey. "I'm more than happy to show you—"

Her face flushed involuntarily despite her efforts. "See what I mean?!"

"You're the one who asked," he grinned.

"I never asked you to interpret my words however you like," (Y/n) muttered in irritation. Then she sighed, losing some of the hard edges in her voice. "In all seriousness, snowman, why are you and Jay both here at once—"

"Leaving out the prick and Leo-chan now too?"

She nearly choked on her breath. "Who and what are here?"

He raised a finger and waggled it at her, his bright eyes dancing with amusement. "You mean what and who. I respect Leo-chan as a person"—(Y/n) nearly laughed out loud at this—"But the prick is a little..." He made a cringing sound.

"Hard to deal with?" She suggested. "Overbearing? Wannabe dictator? Arrogant like you? An ice pick?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and no. I wouldn't call myself arrogant—"

"The first time we met you thought I wanted to get in your pants," (Y/n) stated flatly. "That's either being a d*ck or arrogant, make your choice."

He raised a hand. "Can I—"

"No."

"What happened to freedom of speech?!"

They traveled up a flight of stairs and across another section of the hallway of Spring Hall towards a room the (h/c)-haired girl hadn't even known existed. It was austere with blank walls and barely any furniture save for the photographs on the walls and a few chairs here and there. There was a wooden podium with a microphone resting on it in the front of the room. Facing it were large, bright windows with the shades drawn. Even through the fabric, the sunlight was blinding.

She surveyed the room with wide-eyed curiosity. Kieran lingered near the doorway, his eyes on her as she approached a bookshelf on one wall of the room and pulled a book from it. Surprising to no one, it was Shakespeare. Her head turned to her companion to ask him where they were, but the volume and depths of his golden eyes made her hesitate and look away.

Something about those eyes felt inhuman. Did all the P4 have eyes like these? Then she remembered Jaehyun's sparkling crimson eyes. Unlike Kieran, his were warm and happy. The two couldn't be any more different.

She cleared his throat. "Is this a drama room? I thought they were only in Winter."

"English has its fair share of drama too." He seemed to come back to life as he made his way into the room to where she stood. He took the book from her hands, his long fingers folding over the cover and touching her hand briefly. (Y/n) fought the urge to shudder—his skin was cold. Too cold.

Kieran examined the cover impassively. "Hamlet," he purred. "An interesting choice, a book about revenge."

"I chose it by random," she shrugged. "You like it?"

"It's one of my favorites." He placed the book back in its respective position on the shelf before leaning against it, turning his unsettling eyes towards her. The (e/c)-eyed girl could see her reflection in them, and suddenly she felt small. What he was seeing, she could only wonder.

"And you?" His lyrical voice broke her out of her thoughts. She blinked in surprise.

"And I what?"

"Do you like the story?"

(Y/n) shrugged again. "It's okay. I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare but it's definitely better than Romeo and Juliet."

"On a scale of one to ten compared to Macbeth," he continued flawlessly. "How is it?"

"Umm...maybe a seven?"

He hummed in satisfaction, his eyes searching her face even as she looked away. His voice dropped. "Is it what you want?"

Confused, her eyes flickered up to look at him. "What?"

"Revenge. Is that what you want?" Now they were completely facing each other, (e/c) eyes locked on golden ones. Whether it was her nerves or her stubbornness, she was determined not to be the first one to break away this time. "Revenge on those who wronged you?"

"Half of them are dead already," (Y/n) laughed bitterly. "Even if they weren't, why would you care? I thought the great and mighty you didn't care for us plebeians."

The gold in his eyes darkened. From this close, she could see little flecks of silver in his eyes. There was a ring of dark fire around his pupils that flowed seamlessly into the molten gold around it. His uniform, hair, face—it was white. He was a man devoid of color, with the only color being his eyes.

It was unnerving.

She blinked the dryness from her eyes and suddenly found her feet very interesting. "What good would it do?" She said quietly, biting her lower lip. "In the end revenge doesn't bring anyone back. I could blame Ms. Florence all I want but ultimately I get nothing out of it besides what, temporary relief? It'll just make the pile of bodies grow higher."

"Oh?" Kieran's eyes followed the action, settling on her mouth. "So you rather let the killer run free without avenging your friends? I was under the impression they were all you cared about."

Her steely gaze wavered, and she nearly stumbled a second time. "That's none of your business," (Y/n) snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. "I'll wish for this Game to end when I win. They'd want that."

"Are you sure? Even when I clearly saw your attempts on your teachers' lives?"

Her head snapped up in shock. "You saw that?"

"Was that supposed to be a secret?" A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. "It's hard to keep my mouth shut these days, especially with the freedom of speech we're given in this country. What should I do?"

The (h/c)-haired girl's mouth thinned and her hands balled into fists. "Are you threatening me?"

He canted his head in innocent confusion. "Threatening you? Allow me to remind you I'm the perfect gentleman. I'd never do something so crass to a lady—"

"Skip the useless introductions and get to your point already."

Kieran raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I cut to the chase. I particularly like Brooks, you don't want him here. Don't our interests align?"

She tensed and glared at him suspiciously. "What are you implying?"

His smile was suave and seductive. "We'd make a great team, koneko-chan. I'll handle the dirty work while you work your magic with the security system. This Game and future Games will be a piece of cake."

"Game? You're not even a player. What do you get out of this?"

"A kick, I suppose," the male's eyes finally left her face and focused on the window behind her. The afternoon sun lit his eyes on fire, forming two amber pearls ringed by flames. "I've been growing bored lately. None of my usual habits are any more amusing than playing checkers with the dean is."

"You're willing to put two teachers in harm's way for what, sh*ts and giggles?" Her confusion was replaced by a feeling of anger at his flippant words. "This isn't anything like your usual messing around, sn—Kieran. People die because of this—"

"If it's death we're facing, then that's great. It's the last thing I'm afraid of." The white-haired male peeled himself off the shelf. "Why, are you scared? Despite the bloodlust that nearly knocked me over earlier you're actually just a little girl inside, aren't you?"

He leaned closer to her, his warm breath fanning over her ears. "(Y/n)-chan~"

The (h/c)-haired girl's head snapped up at the sound of her name being drawn out in his baritone voice. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Kieran was already gone, laughing as he danced back. "The look on your face was priceless," he laughed. "You should've seen it."

Her bewildered features settled back into a scowl. Should've remembered he's never a serious person. But forget snowman and Yeti. He's the Devil.

SPRING:HALL ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ мєαηωнιℓє

Jasper Reynolds was no stranger to having blood on his hands. After all, he's the one behind his mother's "accidental death" in the insane asylum. Nurses walked into Hailey Reynolds' room one day to discover her foaming at the mouth and her eyes rolled back in her school, a glass of half-empty water and a bottle of pills next to her. They assumed she'd been collecting the Morphin she was administered weekly or stole it, resulting in her fatal overdose.

As if. He remembered sleeping a lethal dose of the anesthesia into his mother's drink. The poor woman was too out of it to notice the difference in the taste and appearance.

Still now the guilt ate at him, burning him from the inside out until he was nothing but a hollow husk of what he once was. Jasper Reynolds, stellar straight-A student, and president of the debate club. The perfect student, the perfect friend, and the perfect son. His smiling exterior hid his dark wishes for his parents to enter a violent dream they'd never wake up from.

So he killed his mother. But his father proved difficult—too many bodyguards. He was close to giving into his father's demands until the perfect opportunity arose: the Game. He'd kill the sons and daughters of his father's business associates and when he won, he'd wish for his father's death and take over the family business, Gemini.

That was his plan. The only person who might've suspected him being behind the killings despite his flawless acting was (Y/n). But he trusted her; she knew so many of his secrets, what was the harm in one more? He knew she'd never betray him, and she has been living up to his expectations since day one.

But then everything changed. Everything had started in a downward spiral the day (Y/n) brought Keller and his group to spend lunch with them under the Wishing Tree. Nobody noticed, but Jasper found himself enjoying the brown-haired male's company. He almost began to wish for more, but his father's hurtful words knifed through his hopes mercilessly.

"You are the Reynolds heir. If you cannot surpass me, then you are useless to me."

Things kept going down from there. He met Keller in the hallways just as he was about to kill Mackenzie Taylor. Thankfully, the brown-haired male didn't notice anything unusual. Jasper had planned to separate himself from the male before he got too attached.

But of course, Fortuna never adheres to anyone's wishes. He found himself falling in love. It was frightening, love. The feeling was too foreign and familiar at the same time. He remembered loving a boy in freshman year, only to be shot down by his parents. He remembered seeking affection from his parents as a child, only to be treated as a nuisance by his father and a pet by his mother. Even still with his inexperience in the area, the navy blue-haired male was completely and regretfully sure that he was smitten.

The hardest part wasn't confessing but waiting for his answer. The moments after his confession was nerve-wracking and painful. Keller was silent at first, which made Jasper's heart drop to his stomach. If word got out that he was gay—his family would have his head and send him abroad.

Keller smiled at him instead. The male admitted that he was still exploring his sexuality and wasn't sure if he was into girls, boys, or both. He suspected he might be bisexual.

And then everything was a rollercoaster ride upwards until the sudden drop at the zenith shattered Jasper's entire happy fantasy. He should've realized it sooner; happiness was not something that came with the Reynolds name. He'd never be happy, he couldn't be happy, especially if he's still tied down by his surname.

And so the plan continued, his kills increasing day by day until there was only one.

The person who took his single shred of happiness away from him. A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye. I'd send it all back to them, whoever you are.

Jasper didn't make promises. He made decisions.

SPRING:HALL ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ ℓαtєя

When it came to work and responsibility, (Y/n) was no stranger to procrastination and getting constantly sidetracked, and that was when she was alone. Now throw Kieran Fujikawa into the equation, it was undoubtedly impossible to get anything done.

They were sitting by a table, him directly across from her. Thankfully, she'd found a computer she could use. Even without any wifi in the building, (Y/n) managed to get something working and pulled the cameras onto her screen. As she worked, the light trickling from the shades dancing across her features, Kieran was toying with the cord of the computer charger as he rested his face on his hands. The setting might've been peaceful if not for his constant remarks.

"I'm bored," he whined, tugging at the wires. "Don't ignore me, koneko-chan. Staring at the screen for too long is bad for your eyes too."

(Y/n) simply ignored him and tugged the cable out of his hands, before resuming her hands' dance across the keyboard, the keys clicking a steady tune into the air like a piano. Kieran pouted and flicked the back of the laptop. "Come on, don't ignore me. We can do something other than this boring stuff, hmm? When I said 'let's work together,' this wasn't exactly what I had in mind..."

She had enough. She closed the laptop firmly and fixed a hard look at the white-haired male. "What did you expect, me to suddenly turn into Bruce Lee 2.0? Nuh, uh, dude. I don't work that way."

"Mhm, but I know another way you can work—"

"Also please stop calling me by that nickname," she interrupted. "I still have no idea what it means and I really don't want to know, but it's bothering me."

Kieran had a thoughtful look on his face before a sheepish smile broke out across his lips. "It's a habit," he said apologetically. "Mary, Melissa, whatever her name was wanted me to call her that. It kind of stuck."

This donkey hole. "So you're confusing me with another girl now?" She raised an eyebrow. "Very smooth, snowman. Very smooth."

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"You can start by not calling me...whatever you called me. (Y/n) is fine."

"Alright, then how about...what was it he called you?" His smile broadened as he snapped his fingers. "(N/n)-chan. Yes, I like the sound of that."

Her eyes sharpened into slits, a pang in her chest at the sound of the familiar nickname. "Don't call me that either."

He canted his head in mock confusion although his glimmering catlike eyes betrayed him. "Why not? Freedom of speech, remember?"

"Because I said so. So stop."

The white-haired male leaned forward, his golden eyes glowing dangerously. "And if I say no?"

"Then I have no qualms with getting rid of you too."

An incredulous look appeared on his face before he tipped his head back in laughter. "Get rid of me?" His shoulders shook with his laughter. "It hurts to think you don't want my company. Right here." He patted his chest, right above his heart. "Kiss it better for me?"

(Y/n) wrinkled her nose in disgust. "No. Go away."

"Nope~" Kieran drawled, placing his head on the table as he peered up at her through long lashes. "I'm bored. Entertain me."

"Try bungee jumping out the window," the (h/c)-haired girl said dryly. "If you're unlucky, the bullets might just miss you."

He frowned. "You mean lucky."

She frowned back. "No, I mean unlucky."

The next step to their so-called "partnership," which was mostly just Kieran distracting her from her attempts to get something done, was to find the remaining players, namely Mr. Brooks, Ms. Florence, Jasper, and Jason. Unfortunately, since Mr. Brooks knew the person who had activated the security system on them had access to the cameras, he's been going to great lengths to avoid being detected by the devices.

(Y/n) clicked her tongue in irritation. So annoying. He's like a rat that can't stay still.

At the same time, the notification bell chimed, breaking her out of her thoughts. She ignored Kieran's curious gaze as she checked her newest message. It was from a number she didn't recognize. She frowned. Weren't our signals jammed?

~ ❀ ~

+04372 91220: I hope I'm sending this to the right person. I don't know why I'm sending this to you, considering the fact that you will probably try to kill me in the future. Maybe you already have. I won't know.

+04372 91220: First off, I want to say I'm sorry. Nova Charlot's death was partially mine. I was working for Howards, which you probably already know. I led her to him, and you know how the story goes. I guess my biggest sin is Lucinda Summers and Isla Myers. I admit I helped Howards capture them, but you have to understand I had no choice. It's my life or theirs. You have no idea what he's capable of.

+04372 91220: I'm not asking for your forgiveness. You'll never forgive me anyway. I'm not here to tell you to get revenge on Howards for me either. I don't think there's anything in this world that can kill that monster. No, he's not the monster here. He's just another puppet. Like me.

+04372 91220: I'm sure you're under the impression the P4's here to help you, right? If not all of them, some of them. I thought the same at first; I thought they were just untouchable princes that would score me a golden ticket to everything I've dreamed of as a little girl if I bagged one of them. And I mistakenly thought Kieran would be the easiest, even if he ends up breaking up with me in the end.

+04372 91220: I know what they say about the Ice Prince, but you have to know; Kieran Fujikawa's the real monster. He can't feel anything. All of the P4 are monsters. They're probably shifting all the blame on Howards, right? Then you should know the two are in the same boat. All Howards wants is Ms. Florence, and the P4 has some sort of plan with the Game they've been working on ever since the 24th Game. You're the only outlier in that plan. Why? I have no idea.

+04372 91220: I'm actually really insecure about my looks. That's why I encouraged the girls to pick on Summers. I'm sorry. Of course, they found out. Kieran found out. I don't think he has any particular plan. He's just there for his personal amusement. He's the type who'd sit back and laugh during the Holocaust. I'm no stranger to manipulation, and neither is he.

+04372 91220: This was an encrypted message. You won't be able to reply. And even if you did, I'm probably no longer alive to receive it. Be it the P4 who kills me or you, I don't think I'd be able to feel any more anger. But I'd prefer you to win, or Kieran will turn Fortuna into his personal sick playground.

+04372 91220: I'm no hero, but at least I could warn you.

~ ❀ ~

As soon as her eyes fell on the last word of the messages, they snapped up to the golden-eyed male before her despite her attempts not to. He caught her looking at him and smiled. "What's wrong? Was it something important?"

She shook her head and slowly returned her phone to her pocket, trying to play it off as casual. "No, just checking the cameras. Mr. Brooks is really good at avoiding them."

"There are better ways to find someone," he purred, tracing circles on the back of her hand with a long finger. "Want some tips?"

(Y/n) stopped herself from shivering at his cold touch and snatched her hand away. "No thanks, I'm good." She fought to keep the wariness out of her voice. She couldn't let him suspect anything, but she also wanted answers.

"You never answered my question," she continued carefully. "Why are you here? I doubt you're here for the same reasons sun—um, Jay is. And if z—Leon is here, does that mean Tristan is too?"

"So many questions...aren't you a curious thing?" He leaned back in his chair lazily, his eyes never leaving her face. "Will you tell me why you're against being called (N/n)-chan?"

She remained silent, looking away from his eyes that seemed to look straight through her. The male's smirk widened. "You have your secrets and I have mine. If we told them all, things wouldn't be so interesting, would they?"

"I don't care about interesting, I care for the facts," (Y/n) snapped, looking everywhere but his eyes. "All I want is to win the Game and give the headmaster a piece of my mind. But if you're here to ruin things for me..."

"It's funny how you talk about facts when just a moment ago you were abusing the security system to take out your own teachers," Kieran chuckled. "Perception is everything."

"Stop changing the subject. Answer me plainly."

"Haven't anyone taught you to say please, (N/n)-chan?"

Her eye twitched in irritation and her hackles rose. Her hands curled into tight fists as she reminded herself what the most logical decision here was. To calmly get answers out of him. Kieran watched on with a bemused look at her struggles, his posture lazily careless in contrast to her tensed frame.

"Please, Kieran," she said tensely, stressing the word. "Why are you really here?"

She wasn't sure if he would answer. Compared to the rest of the P4, Kieran Fujikawa was a man of secrets. It was hard for even her to read through his cocky smirk and his unchanging eyes that revealed nothing, not even one drop of emotion. They were dull orbs. Bright and shiny like twin suns, blazing just as bright as the real thing, but only on a superficial level. There was nothing else. Even Tristan showed more feelings than the white-haired male did.

"That's a good question for you and me both," he finally said, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. "The prick had a few family problems he had to deal with. The Game was the perfect setting, and I thought, why don't I lend a hand? It would be good for me if I get him in my debt, but too bad he's keeping a lot from me."

She waited for him to continue. He didn't. "That's it?"

"What, not exciting enough for you? Or are you disappointed I didn't come all this way just to see you?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and her nerves died down, the fog of anxiety and anger disappearing instantly. "You're more of a prick than Tristan."

"If that's what gets you in my bed at night—"

"I'll make you a bed in the ground," she muttered. "Six feet under, to be exact."

"Unique. Can't say I don't like it if you're with me."

She wanted to rip his hair out and make him eat it. "How about less of the jokes and more action?"

He lifted a corner of his mouth into a roguish grin. "Depends on what kind of action, I'm down for that."

Don't let him get to you, (Y/n)! "Nice to see you so enthusiastic," the (h/c)-haired girl drawled sarcastically. She turned around and made her way to the couch where her bag was, conscious of the feeling of his eyes burning two holes into her back. At least, she hoped it was her back he was looking at.

She grabbed something from the bag and threw it at him. His smile faltered as he caught it. "What is this?" He held the wrench like it was a tampon. "Never knew you were into kinky things like this, (N/n)-chan."

(Y/n) ignored the nickname for both her and his sake. "Cameras in Winter Hall are broken. Fix them."

He lifted a brow and she almost let out a frustrated growl. "You expect me to fix shattered cameras with a wrench?"

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Work your magic, sir Know-it-All. And so you do know what's going on."

She had to give it to him; his acting skills were top-notch. Kieran looked genuinely confused and she would've believed him if she hadn't known any better. "Know what?"

"Please, spare me the effort. You said p—um, Tristan never tells you anything, but you knew the cameras were broken."

He shrugged, his expression unchanging. "I saw them when I was on my way here."

"All the way from Winter Hall? That's a long walk, don't you think?"

Kieran gave her a cheeky grin and gestured to himself. "How else do you think I got this body?"

"From your mother. Obviously."

"Semantics," he scoffed. "I didn't become this way by sitting around."

"Clearly," (Y/n) muttered, eying his hand that was picking up her things and examining them. The memory of stumbling in on Kieran and another girl doing the nasty popped into her head, making her shudder. Who knows where his hands have been.

Pushing down the twinge of irritation she felt, (Y/n) flashed a fabricated grin with her best effort in the illusion of sweetness. She threw a screwdriver at him. "Get to work, dumba**."

He gave her a sh*t-eating grin in return. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

Forget popsicle. When it comes to getting on my nerves, snowman takes the cake.

━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━

A/N: I ask myself why I write romance every single day when I cringe every time I read or write it. Forget romance movies—blergh.