━━━━༻ ♣ ༺━━━━ white hat 00100000 ━━━━༻ ♣ ༺━━━━

(Y/n) woke up with tears pricking the edges of her vision. Of all nights, her mind had to choose this one to plague her with a dream. In it, she was standing in a sea of what felt like wisps of mist and shadows. But with each step she took towards the flash of light in the distance, her feet felt heavier and heavier as if something was dragging her down. The airy floor turned into black tar, coating her hands, feet, face—every part of her skin.

And then it melted into ripples of crimson blood that left bloody handprints on her arms. You did this, they wrote. You killed us. In that pit of tar, blood, and haunting emptiness, the corpses of her friends rose up around her in the same state they had been when they died. They clawed at her, tried to drag her down, pull her deeper and deeper into whatever void they came from.

You did this. So you're not allowed to be happy. You have to be alone too.

Endlessly, there was no escape from this violent dream that gripped her. Dream or reality—she wasn't sure anymore. One morning she'd wake up feeling fine, feeling as if all those deaths and murders were a bad dream. And then the next she'd remember and the weight of her emotions would hit her all at once. It's a feeling of suffocation as the poison wraps its claws around her throat, not letting go until she is completely painted in its shades of black and blue.

The color of bruises. Bruises no one could see. Not a single mar on her skin. Underneath it, however, was a different story.

She slid her legs over the comforter and off the bed. The dog—she's yet to name it—woke up drowsily and circled her legs in concern. (Y/n) padded towards the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth in the sink. When she looked up, a girl she almost didn't recognize stared back at her; dark circles under her eyes, a hollow, sunken-in look as if she had been abusing drugs for years, and pale, chapped lips.

Normal (Y/n) wasn't especially stunning. But current (Y/n) looked even worse.

She couldn't help but make a face in the mirror. Haha, I look funny. Not bothering to comb her hair, she stepped into the closet and drew on the cheapest-looking pair of clothes she could find, T-shirt and jeans, and came out of it within seconds. Her stomach growled.

I raise a pet called my stomach, she mused as she patted her belly. Where can I disown it? The dog weaved through her legs again, its soft fur tickling her skin. She scooped it up listlessly, not quite registering her actions as she flopped back onto the bed.

Oh, wait...this isn't my room, she realized. She had been moving on routine, not even realizing the bedroom she was in was leagues larger than her usual one at home. Why did I bother to get changed them?

Her answer came in the form of a hyperactive blond lugging a folded up easel through the doorway. He wore an oversized pink hoodie with the sleeves tugged over his hands and a pair of navy blue shorts. There was a little furrow between his brow as he struggled to fit the tall wooden structure through the narrow doorway. He stumbled and nearly fell over but managed to regain his footing. He bit his lip in concentration as he slowly eased the easel into a leaning position and slid it into the room.

It would've been funny had his face not brought unpleasant memories to mind. She sighed. At the rate he was taking, she'd have to put up with it for another hour at most. "Need help with that?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice. His head whipped around, his eyes wide in alarm. "Y-you were still here?" He stammered with a squeak. In his surprise, the easel slipped out of his hands and crashed into the floor before he could catch it. (Y/n) flinched at the loud sound.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Jaehyun bent down to hurriedly pick it back up. "I-I'll be more careful! Sorry for disturbing you—I mean, go back to doing whatever y-you were doing. I promise I'll be quiet!"

Rather than angry, (Y/n) was amazed. She's never seen someone shift this quickly between an angel and a devil. She watched him with both suspicion and hesitancy in her stare as the boy got around the easel and pushed it inside. She saw that he was carrying a large bag full of art supplies which made the task harder.

She cleared her throat to draw his attention. "You do realize it would be easier if you put the bag down, right?"

He looked up in a daze and then at the orange bag on his arm. His face lit up in pink flames. "O-oh, you're right." Jaehyun hurriedly untangled his arms from the bag's straps and set it down against the wall, his bangs hiding his blush. It did nothing to hide the smudge of pink on the back of his neck, however. (Y/n) bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

To help or not to help? That is the question. She continued sitting cross-legged on her bed while stroking the backside of the Samoyed absentmindedly. Whatever, I'm a bad person so I'm not going to help. She slowly peeled her gaze off him while noting his presence in the corner of her mind. She had to keep up her guard no matter what.

"What should I name you, little gu—wait no, you're a girl," the (h/c)-haired girl mused, eyeing the canine that rolled over on her lap, exposing its belly. Its pink tongue lolled out of its mouth as it wagged its tail in satisfaction at her belly scratches. "As funny as it would be, I don't know if calling you Tristan is a good idea..."

The puppy swatted at her fingers as she thought, thinking that her hands were a toy for it to play with. It playfully nipped her hand, not hard enough to break the skin but enough for her to notice. "You know what?" She pulled her hand from the canine's mouth. "Fudge it. I'm naming you Tristan 2.0."

Jaehyun finally managed to fit the oversized easel into the bedroom and placed it near the window. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned his curious bright eyes her direction. "Tristan? What about him?"

"Nothing," she said coyly, dragging her fingers through Tristan 2.0's silky fur. She wagged her tail in pleasure before bounding off the female's lap and diving back into her favorite hiding spot, the closet. (Y/n) switched her focus to the blond in her room. "Why'd you bring that in here?"

"I thought it would be fun," he said softly, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he swept his eyes across the wooden frame, yet to hold a canvas. "We never got to finish that project, did we? So I thought it would be a good idea if we could still paint together. I-I mean, we do have a designated art room b-but the other guys go in there sometimes so it's not as p-private."

He twiddled his fingers, clearly nervous. Totally not obvious from the pinkness dusted across his nose. "I brought any supplies you might need. When you get bored you could paint. It's a really nice way to p-pass time and relieve stress. H-here!"

He pulled the bag closer to the easel and started taking the things inside out. Little paint cans, a water cup, paintbrushes, tubes of more paint, a palette knife, and a jar to store the brushes. He set them up accordingly on the easel, leaving the rest on a nearby drawer.

"I don't know if this is the right time to tell you," (Y/n) drawled as she leaned forward and propped her chin on a hand. "But I suck at art. I can't paint anything good to save my life."

"There's no such thing as being bad at art!" Jaehyun protested. "I-I've seen your works in art class. I like them!"

That's definitely a lie. Strike one. "Don't flatter me. I know they're bad—"

"I mean it." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. "I really like them, (Y/n). I like anything you make."

The atmosphere shifted; it was so plainly evident even for (Y/n), with all her denseness and flippancy. The edge in the air she was so painstakingly trying to keep there for an air of normalcy was gone, as if the boy had simply painted over it with his brush tipped with pastel pinks, yellows, and reds. He looked at her, and in his gaze was nothing but endless affection, or more, affection that threatened to swallow her whole in its embrace that gave her no room to breathe. Every ounce of breath ripped away and floating in the air like midnight smoke. Everything dropping away like stars in the sky, falling and crashing.

And it terrified her.

She broke away first, feeling nothing but overwhelmed. (Y/n) was painfully aware of his eyes still on her as she shifted nervously on the bed, suddenly conscious of where she was. She couldn't be happier she had decided to change earlier instead of staying in her pajamas. She self-consciously tugged the hem of her shirt lower as she got off the bed.

"I-I'm going to get something to drink," she said, not quite looking at him. "I'll see you later, J-Jay."

"I'll go with you." His voice, steady but so fragile at the same time, yet enough to make her tense up. She watched him from the corner of her eyes as he approached her, biting back a sigh of relief as he didn't stop and went past her. He opened the door, holding it for her. "(F/d)?"

She bit her lip, hating the fact he knew her favorite foods. The wisest man always said good food and drinks were the way to a girl's heart. "O-okay."

He led her, hand in hand to the kitchen where he opened the fridge and pulled out two bottled drinks. Lychee juice for himself and (f/d) for her. He finally let go of her hand as he handed the drink to her and opened his with one fluid motion. He tipped his head back, letting the chilled juice slide down his throat.

(Y/n) throat felt dry as she slowly opened the top of the bottle and took a tentative sip as if it was poisoned. A foolish thought—the seal wasn't broken before. But who knew what other tricks they had?

He entwined his fingers back through hers before she could pull away, the bold gesture both shocking and confusing her. Was Jaehyun always this straightforward?

Another look at the blush on the back of his neck said otherwise. It was strangely sweet and unnerving at the same time.

They got back to her room where the boy quickly set up the easel. He displayed the canvas to her proudly, light bleeding through the curtains and bleaching his fair skin even lighter than it already was, before rolling lazily down the blank canvas in long, golden drips. He led her to it, his hand strong like a boulder in a sea of crashing waves and violent maelstroms, her only sense of clarity in this strange dream.

She almost didn't notice him watching her with a hawk-like gaze until he spoke. "I have a better idea!" He suddenly declared. From how excited he looked, (Y/n) was willing to take a wild stab in the dark that it was going to be another one of his moods.

"Let's try spray painting instead," he suggested. And in a wonderfully devious tone, "I know a certain place that could use a little touching up!"

That certain place happened to be the hallway connected to a certain blue-haired male's bedroom. (Y/n) could see where this was going and she was starting to really like the idea. Turn the place into a piece of trash that Tristan had to see every time he left his bedroom? Better yet, he might even never come out again? Who could resist that temptation?

The blond shook the paint can he had picked up as they passed his room a few times before aiming it at the wall opposite to Tristan's bedroom door. "What do you want to paint?" He said excitedly. "This project's all on you."

She tapped her chin in thought for a few seconds before remembering a certain incident just a few weeks ago that suddenly felt like years. "Something tech-themed," she said with a biting grin. "Who wouldn't want to see the thing that causes him stress—I mean, that he loves every single bloody day?"

Jaehyun's face lit up, his eyes sparkling excitement and passion. "You take the left?"

"You betcha."

"Wait, one more thing!" He pulled out two bandannas from his pocket. "It's not good to breathe in the fumes." He motioned for her to turn around and she did after some hesitation, holding her breath as he folded the cloth around her mouth and nose. She felt his long, slender fingers work as they tied the end into a knot. But they didn't stop there. His touch lingered, sliding down the back of her neck before he finally pulled away with an embarrassed cough.

"A-anyway, let's get to it."

"Y-yeah."

All her worries, anger, and fears slipped away as she aimed the nozzle at the wall and began spraying the pristine beige surface in blues. Then she painted a sloppy computer in black that looked more like a deformed Minecraft head than anything. Scratch that, it looked like Jeff the Killer's face right when he burning his eyelids off, especially with all the paint dripping down like that.

Oh boy is popsicle in for a surprise. She couldn't help but grin as she sprayed random shapes and designs that resembled electronics on the formerly spotless walls. Then she began making a matrix down one side of the wall, before beginning a sequence of binary that spelled out "popsicle you little prick" right next to it. Tristan couldn't even put together a single computer; she doubted he'd be able to decode it. Did he even know how to use a search engine?

She glanced over at Jaehyun's side and immediately wished she hadn't. The boy was being so extra as to bring in paintbrushes into it. He switched between art supplies with a professional's ease as he spun his image of a computer screen into one she could easily mistaken to be real. She was tempted to reach out and start inputting commands into it.

His work made hers look like a kindergartener took a crayon and smushed it into a piece of paper. Yeah, that bad. It was a real blow to her nonexistent pride—that stuff has been burned up in the time she's spent with these four. Or maybe Tristan absorbed it all. No wonder he acts like he's got a stick up his arse.

Out of sheer pettiness, (Y/n) decided to end her work with malformed designs of popsicles. All blue with hideous blue eyes that bugged out at her. Oh yeah, dude. Popsicle won't be getting a wink of sleep when he sees this, she sniggered. Let the nightmares begin. Heck, even I'm starting to get scared of my talent. Damn, I'm good.

Note the sarcasm.

Unbeknownst to the (h/c)-haired girl, the blond peeked over curiously and a little worried at the strange laughter coming from her. His gaze softened at the sight of the female so immersed in something he suggested, the thought filling him with indescribable joy. Her brows were wrinkled in concentration and her lips slightly pursed. She wore nothing but a simple T-shirt that was beginning to show the effects of being near spray paint so long, and the colorful bandanna he gave her. But never before had she looked more beautiful to him, and the sight made his heart clench.

Something akin to butterflies fluttered in his stomach, making his heart rise in his throat until it was almost difficult to breathe. But he didn't want to look away; no, not yet. He drank in the delicate swoop of her neck that arched like a crane as she looked up, the subtle uplight in her mouth that screamed troublemaker and danger all at once, the fragility but unexpected strength in her form that never failed to amaze him...

She was here. With him. In a space that was his and only his, if he excluded the three insects that lived here he was impatient to get rid of. He almost couldn't believe it. He looked down at his hands, at the paint-stained fingertips, and closed them slowly, relishing in the feeling of his oval nails digging into his palms. His sleeve slid up as he moved, revealing a glimpse of pure, white skin around a delicate wrist.

And the scars, the long, white scars that emerged from under the cloth. It was almost invisible, those scars, but they were there. And they were his.

Jaehyun turned his head back to the female as she let out a frustrated growl when her impression of a circuit board looked like a slab of burnt toast half-eaten by ants. Half of him wanted to swoop her up into a hug and never let go, while the other half was content with just watching her. Watching like he's always done.

It wasn't fair. A sudden shadow fell over his face. It wasn't fair how much attention the others were showing her. He saw her first. He was the first to notice her, that day at the entrance ceremony last year. The others didn't even know she existed. He did. And he was the one she smiled at first. So why did they get to spend so much time with her?

It wasn't fair. Then again, nothing was. Which is why he had to seize the things he wanted with his own hands. This time was no exception.

Feelings were a curious thing. They made people do strange things. They made the shyest girl a lion and the proudest businessman a slave. He was no stranger to all that. (Y/n) wasn't the first, he hated to admit. She was the second. The first was his first friend, a boy who extended his hand to the blond five years ago.

Then he died. And that broke him.

But it was fine. He's come to terms with it. It only meant that boy wasn't a good friend. If he was, he wouldn't have left Jaehyun. He wouldn't have gone away first.

(Y/n) was much better than that liar. She didn't go away. And there was one more thing that was different.

She was much more than a friend.

WINTER:HALL ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ мєαηωнιℓє

Hours and days of searching. Toiling, sifting through thousands of records in the archives, searching. Looking for a needle in a haystack, a drop of oil in a vast ocean. And it all finally amounted to something. Only, that something wasn't what he wanted to see.

Deep down, he had his suspicions. He had a feeling he knew who killed Keller. But he forced himself through his rage to remain calm. To revert back to his logical state of mind.

His hands curled into fists by his side as he trembled, barely able to reign in his emotions. He was on the rooftop of Winter Hall, the morning sun radiating gentle warmth he couldn't feel down on him. The blue sky, suddenly gray and dreary. The beautiful lush gardens, suddenly fake and desolate. The harmonious melody of the birds, suddenly a death sonata to his ears.

And the crumpled body of Carmen Parker left to rot on the grass below—it only made his desire for revenge grow.

Finding Keller's lifeless body in the hallway, riddled with bullets and streaked with blood, Jasper felt something inside him break. His floodgate that's for sure, or perhaps it was his sanity. It filled him with a twisted sense of vengeance no one would've ever associated with him based on appearances alone. Anger, rage, fury...a red haze clouded his vision and mind, sinking its toxic claws into his bloodstream, turning his veins into ash. He could feel nothing else.

One name scorched brightly in the dark canvas of his mind. One name burned with hellish ire, each letter carefully traced with ribbons of fire and smoldering yellow.

Kieran Fujikawa.

Jasper had no remaining doubt in his mind the P4 were behind Keller and Carmen's death. Who exactly killed Carmen, however, he didn't know. But he did know the half Japanese manwh*re was the one behind Keller's.

It was good he found out so soon. That gave them little time to flee the school grounds. Not that they could, Jasper thought with wicked amusement. Digging through the school records and the archives uncovered many secrets he didn't know the school had. Secrets he knew the P4 would kill him over.

But that was fine. Jasper had nothing else anyway. A dead mother who resented him, a father who oppressed him, and beginnings of a love that was ripped away as soon as it came.

He'd take the P4 down with him, and then the philharmonic orchestra of vengeance would strike its first note.

GUYS I NEED A NAME:DORM ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ ℓαtєя

There was a food fight going on in the kitchen. That much was certain.

(Y/n) had been simply passing by after washing her hands and changing from the vandalism—um, a redecorating job she did with Jaehyun when Kieran launched a sweet roll at Leon, who was just chilling and being edgy as ever, spiraling them into a not-so-friendly banter.

"That was my f*cking eye!" She heard Leon roar. Then came the crashing of furniture and the sound of glass breaking, followed by Kieran's distressed cry. She could only hope Leon broke the white-haired male's face first instead of his limbs. That way she wouldn't have to listen to him talk. Kieran Fujikawa was actually tolerable when he wasn't talking.

(A/N: TRASHYKAWA! Tch am I the only weeb here)

She saw Tristan let out a controlled exhale as he made a cup of coffee for himself and retreated through the kitchen back to whatever castle he came from. According to Jaehyun, there was a shortcut from the living room to the blue-haired male's quarters, explaining why the pompous prick would ever associate himself with the rest of the commoners.

"My face!" Came a muffled cry from behind her. (Y/n) bit her lip to hide the beginnings of a laugh that made its way up her throat. She quickly fled the area, nearly colliding with Jaehyun's solid chest as he came down the staircase.

At least someone in this house still used that thing.

He gently held her by her shoulders to steady her. "Are you alright?" He asked, concerned as his eyes swept up her form in search of any injuries. Come on, she nearly scoffed out loud. If you're not zebra, my chin and head won't be in any danger.

"I'm fine," she said dismissively and broke away, missing the flash of hurt that marred his angelic features for a brief second. "A chaotic meal going on and a highly dangerous specimen roaming the hallways with caffeine. Better steer clear."

A giggle escaped his lips at the mental image. "I'll keep that in mind. Did you clean up yet?"

"Pretty much." Why, am I going to be dragged around again? To be honest, she no longer felt her initial irritation with the boy. All she felt now was confusion. Was this the signs of brainwashing or Stockholm Syndrome? Well, fudge.

Then she remembered something. "Gotta feed Tristan 2.0," she said quickly. "She'd probably hungry right now. You guys have any dog food?"

"W-well, there's some in the pantry. I can—"

"In the kitchen?" She could barely contain her giddiness as she began inching away. "Great, thanks. Bye!"

"W-wait!"

But it was too late. (Y/n) ran like she never had before—knowing her, she probably hasn't—and went into the kitchen and out, seizing a bag of dog food and two bowls while dodging the food and vases being thrown around. In their struggle, Kieran and Leon didn't even realize she was there. She zipped up the stairs and back to her room where sure enough, a brand new laptop was waiting for her.

Fudge yes!

After fixing a bowl of food and water for Tristan 2.0, she dove onto her bed, bouncing up a little, and plugged the laptop into the outlet on the wall. She turned it on. After all the setup procedures and whatnot, she was finally in.

First thing's first, she disconnected from the dormitory's wifi and set up a VPN in North Macedonia because why not. All for security reasons.

Hours went by when she was finally done setting up the laptop and making sure no one besides her could get inside. She also did a scan for any bugs—Tristan probably only knew how to use that computer of his to type up an essay. Ask him to download a picture from the web and he'll have the device fried within seconds.

Probably.

There were none, which honestly didn't surprise her. She didn't think the blue-haired male would tell anyone else he was getting her a laptop. He wasn't the type to confide in other people like that.

I don't think I should do anything to the security system today, she mused. I only just got it and if they detect anything wrong, they'll know it's me.

So instead, she downloaded the messaging app she had been using to communicate with June. As soon as she opened it, she was flooded with a torrent of messages from the other girl over a span of four days.

~ ❀ ~

tracer404: Did you find him?

tracer404: I think I know who killed that purple-haired friend of yours. Text me back when you see this!

tracer404: Mr. Brooks' movements look suspicious. Are you okay?

tracer404: (Y/n)? Hello?

tracer404: Why aren't you replying? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Oh my god, please be okay!

tracer404: If you're okay, please respond! I think I found something new! It's about that green-haired friend of yours!

tracer404: (Y/n)?

me: june! im mostly okay? i don't even know

tracer404: Oh god I thought something happened to you. That Mr. Brooks got you too.

me: reese is alive! mr. brooks didn't kill him. are you sure it's him?

tracer404: I don't know. I saw your friend go into a room and then Mr. Brooks go in. When Mr. Brooks went out, your friend didn't. So I just assumed it was him.

me: oh

me: mr. brooks aside, we're kinda in a sticky situation

tracer404: Weren't you already?

me: fair enough. but at least we aren't locked up like we are now

tracer404: WHAT?!

tracer404: What did I miss???

me: stuff happened. apparently the p4 wasn't going to let anyone win. the games aren't a game of luck; there's a prechosen list of people who will die each time

tracer404: Oh my god...

me: so yeah, we knew too much or something and now reese's in the basement and im uh

tracer404: You're...?

me: im kinda living the life. i guess they treat girls better?

tracer404: At least you're not hurt. Keep me posted on what happens and I'll do my best to help you.

me: okay

~ ❀ ~

Trust was a fragile thing. Easily broken like a mirror and pieced back together, but you'll forever see the cracks. Trust was a gamble, all or nothing. And this time, she was willing to bet it all. Bet that June was who she said she was and she'd help her.

But if she wasn't...

There was another ding as another message popped onto her computer screen. She took one look at it and it was enough to make her blood run cold.

~ ❀ ~

tracer404: And one more thing. I don't know how to tell you this but I found out recently...

tracer404: Your missing friend. Jason Winston's been dead from the start.