The next day moved slower than usual.
Nothing dramatic happened in the morning — no trust falls, no festival, no chaos. Just a normal school day.
But normal days were dangerous too.
Normal days let feelings breathe.
During lunch, Luca found Hana sitting on the rooftop steps, kicking her feet lightly over the edge. She looked lost in thought, eyes on the sky.
He approached quietly.
"You good?" he asked.
Hana jumped a little. "Wh— you scared me!"
Luca smirked. "My bad."
She scooted over, silently inviting him to sit.
He did.
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind filled the silence.
Then Hana said, "Hey… you ever feel like you used to be good at something, and then one day it just… stopped feeling like yours anymore?"
Luca blinked. "What do you mean?"
Hana kept staring at the sky.
"When I was younger… I used to do sports. I was fast. Strong. Everyone said I had potential."
Luca nodded. "Sounds like you were really good."
Her smile turned tight.
"Yeah, well… then I got hurt. Not even dramatically. Just a stupid ankle thing that wouldn't heal right."
She tugged her sleeve.
"My coach said, 'Take a break.' But breaks turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. And suddenly I wasn't useful anymore. Teammates stopped talking to me. I wasn't the 'fun tomboy athlete' anymore. I was just… there."
Luca felt something pull in his chest.
"You're still strong," he said quietly.
Hana shook her head. "Not like before. And it's fine. I don't care."
But her voice cracked on the last word.
She DID care.
More than she wanted anyone to know.
Luca turned toward her.
"You don't have to pretend."
Hana's shoulders tensed.
The armor slipped for just a second.
"…Why are you like this?" she whispered. "You always say things that feel like you're looking straight through me."
Luca didn't know how to answer without revealing the loops.
So he said the truth he could say:
"Because I pay attention."
Hana's eyes widened — and for a moment, she looked like she might cry.
But then—
Hana suddenly stood up.
"N-Nope! I'm good," she said too quickly. "Let's talk about something else."
"Hana—"
"It's stupid," she snapped lightly. "I don't wanna bore you with old stuff."
"You're not boring me."
"I said it's fine."
Her defensive tone wasn't anger — it was embarrassment.
Fear of being seen.
She took a step back, hugging her arm.
"I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it."
Luca stood too. "I'm not gonna forget it."
"That's the problem," she muttered.
And then she turned away.
Not running — just avoiding.
It wasn't a blow-up.
Not a fight.
Just a small emotional crack — the kind real people have.
Luca exhaled.
"…I messed up," he whispered.
Marc appeared on the stairs behind him like he'd been listening.
"You didn't mess up," Marc said. "She's just not used to opening up."
Luca rubbed his forehead. "What do I do?"
Marc shrugged. "You give her space. Then tomorrow? You show her you didn't disappear on her like everyone else did."
Luca nodded slowly.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah… that makes sense."
Marc smirked.
"Look at you. Actual emotional depth. Proud of you, bro."
Luca shoved him lightly.
Marc laughed.
From the opposite corner of the rooftop entrance…
someone else had been watching.
Ryo closed the small notebook in his hand.
On the page he'd written:
Hana emotional spike:
— triggered by Luca's presence
— vulnerability inconsistent with normal pattern
— history suggests past trauma
— Luca influence unusually high
He tapped the edge of the notebook.
"Why do emotional values spike around him?" he murmured.
A shadow passed over his eyes — something analytical, sharp, almost cold.
He wrote one more line:
Transfer students altering emotional structure.
Unnatural.
Investigate further.
Back in the dorms that night, Luca sat on his bed staring at the candy wrapper Hana had given him the day before.
Marc tossed a pillow at him.
"Bro. You're brooding."
"I'm thinking."
"Same thing."
Luca sighed. "She told me something real… and she got scared."
Marc leaned on the dresser.
"That's good."
"How is that good?"
"Because it means she trusts you enough to be real with you. She just doesn't know what to do with it yet."
Luca looked down.
"…I wanna help her."
Marc smiled.
"Then help her," he said simply.
"But do it slow."
Luca nodded.
"Slow is fine."
Outside the dorm window, the wind blew across the school track — empty, unused, forgotten.
Just like Hana felt.
But not for long.
Because someone finally cared enough to see her.