Footsteps rushed down the hallway.
Fast. Uneven.
Alexander appeared first—jacket still half on, eyes sharp with fear he wasn't hiding. Anna was right behind him, breath short, hands clenched together.
Their eyes locked onto Emma immediately.
"Emma," Anna said, voice trembling. "Where is she?"
Emma stood up at once. "She's inside. They're running tests. She collapsed from extreme exhaustion."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Exhaustion… from what?"
Emma met his gaze.
"…From pushing herself too far," she answered carefully. "She saved people."
That was true.
Just not the whole truth.
A doctor stepped out then, clipboard in hand.
"Family of Diana Demars?"
"That's us," Alexander said instantly.
"She's stable," the doctor continued. "No internal damage. But her nervous system was severely overstressed. Think of it like… burning a circuit by forcing too much current through it."
Anna covered her mouth in relief. "She's alive?"
"Yes," the doctor nodded. "But she needs rest. A lot of it."
Alexander exhaled slowly, the tension finally cracking. He ran a hand through his hair.
"…That girl," he muttered. "Always like this."
Anna turned to Emma and gently took her hands.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For being with her."
Emma nodded. "…I wasn't leaving."
They were allowed in a few minutes later.
Diana lay on the bed, pale but breathing steadily. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, beeping calmly.
Anna rushed to her side, brushing Diana's hair back. "My baby…"
Alexander stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes closed for a moment.
"…You scared us," he said quietly.
Diana's eyes fluttered open just a little.
"…Worth it," she murmured weakly.
Anna burst into tears. "Don't you ever say that."
Emma stood near the door, watching.
Alexander looked at Emma then—really looked.
"You knew she had limits," he said.
Emma didn't deny it. "Yes."
"And you still went with her."
"Yes."
A long pause.
Then Alexander nodded once. "…Good."
Emma blinked slightly.
"She'd have gone alone otherwise," he added. "At least this way… she came back."
Emma lowered her gaze. "…I'll make sure she rests."
Alexander's voice dropped. "This isn't over, is it?"
Emma didn't answer directly.
"…For now," she said, "she's safe. That's what matters."
Alexander studied her for a second longer.
Then turned back to his daughter.
Emma stepped back quietly, giving them a small bow of her head.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I need to go. My mom… she's alone right now."
Anna looked up immediately. "Of course. We'll stay with Diana."
Alexander nodded. "Go. Don't worry about her."
Emma hesitated for half a second—then turned and left.
---
The night air outside the hospital was cold.
Too quiet.
Emma walked fast. No music. No phone. Just the sound of her steps and her thoughts.
When she reached home, the lights were on—but dim.
She opened the door.
"Mother…?"
No answer.
Emma slipped off her shoes and moved down the hallway. The TV was on, volume low, showing some random program that no one was watching.
Then she saw her.
Asuka was sitting on the couch, knees pulled close to her chest, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A cup of tea sat untouched on the table, already cold.
She looked… small.
Emma froze for a second.
"…Mom."
Asuka looked up.
The moment she saw Emma, her face crumpled.
"Emma…" her voice broke. "You're late."
Emma crossed the room instantly and knelt in front of her.
"I'm here," she said softly. "I'm sorry."
Asuka reached out and grabbed Emma's sleeve like she was afraid she'd disappear.
"I hate when your father leaves," she whispered. "The house gets so quiet. And then you were gone too and I kept thinking—what if something happened?"
Emma didn't speak.
She just leaned forward and hugged her.
Asuka melted into it immediately, arms wrapping around Emma's shoulders, fingers clutching her shirt.
"I know you're strong," Asuka said shakily. "Everyone says that. But you're still my little girl."
Emma closed her eyes.
"…I know."
They stayed like that for a while. No talking. Just breathing.
Eventually, Emma stood and gently guided her mother toward the bedroom.
"Come on," Emma said. "You should rest."
Asuka lay down, still holding Emma's hand.
"Stay," she asked quietly.
Emma nodded without hesitation. "I will."
She sat beside the bed until Asuka's breathing evened out, until her grip loosened just enough to show she was asleep.
Emma looked down at her mother's tired face.
Her jaw tightened—not in anger.
In resolve.
"…Dad trusted me," she murmured. "And I won't fail."
Outside, the city kept moving.
But inside that room, Emma stayed still—
guarding the one place where she was allowed to just be a daughter.
---
The next day, The classroom felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
Diana's seat was empty.
Emma noticed it the moment she walked in.
No yapping. No chair noises. No Diana.
She sat down.
Then—
sniff sniff
Emma's eye twitched.
She slowly turned her head.
Mostang was leaned over Diana's chair, face way too close, inhaling like his life depended on it.
"…Ahhh," Mostang said dreamily. "So this is how her ass smells like—"
GRAB.
Emma yanked him up by the collar so fast his feet left the ground.
"What," Emma said flatly, "are you doing."
Mostang dangled. "I-I was just—uh—scientific research?"
Emma stared.
Deadpan.
"…You're sniffing her chair."
"OKAY WHEN YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT IT SOUNDS BAD—"
Emma lifted him higher.
"Mostang."
"Yes?"
"If Diana was here," Emma continued calmly, "you would already be unconscious."
Mostang gulped. "Fair."
She dropped him.
He hit the floor, coughed, then immediately sat up.
"…So," he said, rubbing his neck, "she's really not coming today?"
"She's in the hospital," Emma replied, sitting back down.
Mostang froze.
"…Oh."
A beat.
Then he stood straight, suddenly serious.
"…Is she okay?"
Emma glanced at him.
"…She will be."
Mostang nodded once.
Then, one second later—
"BUT WHEN SHE COMES BACK TELL HER I MISSED HER PRESENCE AND ASS—"
Emma picked up a book.
Mostang bolted.
The teacher walked in just in time to see Mostang sliding into his seat like nothing happened.
"…Good morning, class," the teacher said.
Emma exhaled.
Idiots, she thought.
But her eyes drifted back to the empty chair.
"…Hurry back," she muttered under her breath.
Arthur noticed her the moment he walked in.
Same seat.
Same calm posture.
Same Emma.
She was staring at the board, chin resting lightly on her hand, completely unaware—or pretending to be.
Now or never, he thought.
He stood up during break, adjusted his hoodie, pulled his earphones down around his neck, and walked over.
"…Hey," Arthur said, stopping beside her desk.
Emma looked up.
"…Yes?"
Her voice wasn't cold. Just neutral. Careful.
Arthur swallowed. "Uh—Diana's not here today, right?"
"She's in the hospital," Emma replied.
His eyes widened. "Oh— I didn't know. Is she okay?"
"She will be."
A pause.
Arthur nodded. "…That's good."
Silence stretched.
He scratched the back of his neck. "So… that day was kinda crazy, huh."
Emma didn't answer immediately.
"…You could say that."
Arthur laughed nervously. "Yeah. I mean—robots in class isn't exactly normal."
"No," Emma said. "It isn't."
Another pause.
Arthur glanced at her, really looked at her this time.
"…You were amazing," he said quietly. "Back there."
Emma's eyes met his.
"…You shouldn't say things like that," she replied.
Arthur blinked. "Why?"
"Because you don't know what you're praising."
That made him hesitate.
"…I just wanted to talk," he said honestly. "Get to know you."
Emma looked away.
"…Arthur."
He straightened. "Yeah?"
"I'm not looking for anything," she said calmly.
He smiled faintly. "I figured."
A beat.
"…Can I still sit here sometimes?"
Emma considered it.
"…If you want."
Arthur's smile widened just a little.
---
Arthur didn't even realize he was doing it anymore.
His pencil was still.
His notebook empty.
His eyes—
On Emma.
The way she sat straight, calm, unreadable.
The way she rested her chin on her hand like nothing in the world bothered her.
The way her eyes drifted, thoughtful, distant—like she was always somewhere else.
How can someone be that composed… he thought.
Emma felt it.
She didn't look at him at first.
"…You're staring," she said quietly.
Arthur jumped. "S-Sorry."
He looked away for exactly three seconds.
Then his eyes drifted back.
Emma sighed, barely audible.
She turned her head this time and looked straight at him.
"…Arthur."
"Yes?"
"If you keep staring," she said evenly, "people will think something strange is going on."
He flushed. "I—I just—"
He stopped himself.
The classroom noise faded for a moment.
Emma didn't react immediately.
No blush.
No smile.
Just a slow blink.
"…You should focus on class," she said.
Arthur laughed softly. "That's a rejection, right?"
Emma glanced back to the board.
"…That's me being honest."
He nodded.
"…Got it."
But even as he tried to look away—
His eyes kept finding her again.
And Emma, without turning—
Knew.
.
.
.
Crack.
Arthur froze.
He stared at the two broken halves of his pencil like it had personally betrayed him.
"…You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered.
He looked around, embarrassed.
Emma noticed.
She reached into her pencil case without a word.
Then—
she slid a pencil onto his desk.
It stopped right in front of him.
Arthur blinked.
He looked at the pencil.
Then at her.
"…For me?" he asked.
"Yes," Emma replied simply, eyes still on the board.
He picked it up like it was fragile.
"…Thanks."
She nodded once.
Arthur smiled.
Not wide.
Not loud.
But real.
For the rest of the class, he didn't stare as much.
He wrote.
With her pencil.
---
The next period started.
The previous teacher left.
The bell rang.
Nothing happened.
The class waited.
One minute.
Two.
Then the door slid open and a student from another class leaned in.
"Teacher's absent," he said. "Free period."
The room exploded.
Chairs scraping.
Laughing.
Phones out.
Someone already asleep.
Mostang stood on his chair. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—"
"SHUT UP" three people yelled at once.
Arthur stayed where he was.
Quiet.
He glanced at Emma.
She hadn't moved.
She was looking out the window, rain clouds drifting slowly across the sky, light reflecting in her eyes.
Then she reached into her bag.
Pulled out a notebook.
A pencil.
His pencil.
She began to draw.
Arthur leaned slightly, careful not to be obvious.
Her hand moved smoothly—no hesitation. Lines forming quickly.
Not flowers.
Not hearts.
Shapes.
Sharp edges.
Circles.
Mechanical joints.
Arthur's breath caught.
"…Is that a robot?" he asked softly.
Emma didn't stop drawing.
"…Something like that."
The noise of the classroom faded for him.
She shaded lightly, eyes focused, expression calm—almost distant.
"…You draw really well," Arthur said.
Emma paused for half a second.
"…Thank you."
She continued.
Arthur reached into his bag for food.
Empty.
He checked again, like food might magically appear.
"…Great," he muttered.
His stomach betrayed him with a quiet growl.
He glanced around. Everyone else was eating, laughing, stealing fries.
Emma noticed.
Without looking at him, she opened her bag.
Pulled out a wrapped sandwich.
She slid it across his desk—slow, deliberate—until it touched his arm.
"…Here," she said.
Arthur froze.
He stared at it.
Then at her.
"…You're giving this to me?"
"Yes."
"But—what about you?"
"I already ate," Emma replied calmly.
Arthur picked up the sandwich like it might vanish.
"…Thanks," he said quietly. "Really."
She nodded, eyes back on her drawing.
He took a bite.
Oh.
It was actually good.
Arthur smiled to himself.
She's not scary at all, he thought.
She's just… quiet.
He glanced at her again.
Emma kept drawing, pencil moving steadily.
But for just a second—
She glanced at him.
Then looked away.
---
After school finished, Emma didn't go home.
She turned the other way.
The hospital was quiet this time—late afternoon light pouring through the windows, footsteps echoing softly.
She stopped in front of a familiar door.
Room 214.
Emma knocked once, then opened it.
"…Hey."
Diana was lying in the bed, arm hooked to an IV, bandage around her wrist. Her hair was messy, eyes half-lidded.
She turned her head.
"…Took you long enough," Diana said weakly.
Emma walked in and sat beside her.
"You collapsed," Emma replied. "That tends to slow things down."
Diana smirked. "…Worth it."
Emma exhaled.
"…You scared your parents."
Diana looked away for a moment. "…Yeah."
Silence settled.
Then Diana glanced back.
"…Did school survive without me?"
Emma nodded. "Barely."
Diana grinned. "Mostang cry?"
"He sniffed your chair."
Diana stared.
"…I'm killing him."
Emma's lips twitched—barely.
She reached out and adjusted the blanket over Diana's shoulders.
"…You pushed past your limits," Emma said quietly. "Don't do that again."
Diana's expression softened.
"…I didn't want you fighting alone."
Emma looked at her.
"…I wasn't."
Diana closed her eyes.
"…Next time," she murmured, "we win smarter."
Emma stayed there until the machines beeped softly and the sun dipped lower outside the window.
"…Rest," she said.
Diana smiled faintly.
"You too... where is my Dayum bird?"
Emma sighed.
The door SLAMMED OPEN.
"DIANAAAAA—"
Diana's eyes went wide.
"…Oh no."
Too late.
VALERIA LAUNCHED.
She jumped onto Diana's hospital bed like a missile, arms wrapping around her, legs kicking the air.
"I HEARD YOU FOUGHT ROBOTS AND DIDN'T INVITE ME—"
"VALERIA—WAIT—I'M INJURED—"
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
The heart monitor started losing its mind.
Diana screamed.
"GET OFF—GET OFF—MY RIBS—ARE—NOT—OPTIONAL—"
Valeria squeezed harder. "YOU'RE ALIVE THOUGH"
"NURSE—" Diana shrieked.
Emma stood there.
Calm.
Hands in pockets.
"Oh," Emma said casually. "I forgot to warn you."
Diana turned her head, face red.
"YOU—FORGOT—WHAT—"
Valeria suddenly gasped. "WAIT—ARE YOU STRONGER THAN THE ROBOTS OR AM I STILL STRONGER—"
"VALERIA PLEASE—"
Valeria bounced once.
FLATLINE SOUND.
Everyone froze.
Nurse from the hallway: "WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THERE—"
Emma finally stepped forward and grabbed Valeria by the collar, lifting her off Diana like a misbehaving cat.
"Time," Emma said flatly, "to get off the patient."
Valeria dangled. "…She screams louder than I remembered."
Diana collapsed back on the pillow, breathing heavily.
"…I survived robots," she muttered. "Just to die like this."
Emma adjusted Diana's blanket.
"You'll live."
Diana glared.
"…I hate you all."
Valeria grinned.
"LOVE YOU TOO."
BEEP—BEEP—BEEP
Normal again.
---
The sun was already low when Emma reached her street. After leaving diana. And both Valerian and her, Splitted.
It was Quiet.
Soft orange light on the pavement.
The kind of calm that comes after a long day.
She reached for the door.
"…Emma."
She stopped.
Turned around.
Arthur stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, hoodie half-zipped. He looked a little nervous. A little out of place—like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be here.
"…Hello," he said.
Emma blinked once.
"…Arthur?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
A small pause settled between them.
"I, uh," he started, then stopped. Took a breath. "I wanted to see you. Just to check in."
Emma studied him.
"…You shouldn't just come like this," Emma said calmly.
"I know," Arthur replied quickly. "I'm sorry. I just—after today, and yesterday, and everything… I kept thinking about you."
Emma looked away toward the door.
"…You shouldn't."
"I know," he repeated, softer this time. "But I do."
He stepped back half a step, like he was giving her space.
"I'm not here to ask for anything," Arthur said. "I just wanted to see you. Make sure you're okay."
"…I'm fine."
Arthur nodded. "Good."
Silence again.
Then—
"…You gave me food today," he said. "And a pencil. And you didn't have to."
Emma glanced at him.
"…It wasn't a big deal."
"It was," he said. "To me."
She didn't answer.
The door behind her felt heavy.
"…You should go home," Emma said finally. "It's getting late."
Arthur hesitated.
"…Can I walk you inside at least?"
Emma looked at him.
Long.
Then shook her head.
"…No."
He smiled anyway. Small. Respectful.
"…Okay."
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"…I'll see you tomorrow?"
Emma hesitated.
"…If nothing happens."
Arthur chuckled softly. "With you guys? Something always happens."
For just a moment—
Emma's lips curved.
Barely.
"…Good night, Arthur."
His eyes widened slightly.
"…Good night, Emma."
He walked away down the street.
Emma watched until he disappeared around the corner.
Then she turned.
Unlocked the door.
And stepped inside.
---
The school gates were already open when Emma arrived.
Late.
Not rushed—just… later than usual.
She slipped through the hallway as the first class was already in session, shoes quiet against the floor. A few students glanced up when she entered.
The teacher paused.
"…Emma," he said, adjusting his glasses. "You're late."
"Yes," Emma replied calmly. "I helped my mother this morning."
The teacher studied her for a second.
Then sighed. "Take your seat."
She nodded and walked to her desk.
Diana's chair was still empty.
Emma sat down, set her bag aside, and opened her notebook like nothing was wrong.
Arthur noticed immediately.
He leaned slightly toward her and whispered, "You okay?"
Emma nodded once. "…Yes."
He smiled, relieved.
Mostang turned around in his seat. "WAIT—YOU CAN JUST SAY THAT AND IT'S FINE?"
Emma looked at him.
"…Do you want to try being late?"
Mostang immediately faced forward. "I LOVE PUNCTUALITY."
Arthur covered a laugh.
Emma took out her pencil.
The day continued.
Normal.
At least on the surface.
----
Break time came.
The hallway doors were open.
Bad idea.
Cold air swept in from outside, sharp enough to sting.
Emma sat on the bench near the window, back straight, hands resting calmly on her lap.
She was wearing her skirt.
And it was cold.
She quietly pressed her thighs together, subtle, controlled—no shivering, no reaction. Just enduring it the way she endured most things.
Her expression didn't change.
Arthur noticed anyway.
He stopped a few steps away, frowning slightly.
"…You're cold," he said.
Emma didn't look at him. "…It's fine."
"It's really not," he replied, glancing at the open doors.
He took off his hoodie without making a big deal out of it and held it out.
"…You can use this."
Emma finally looked up.
"…No."
Arthur hesitated. "I insist?"
She stared at him for a moment—then sighed quietly.
"…You're persistent."
She took it.
Draped it over her shoulders—not wearing it properly, just enough to block the cold.
"…Thank you," she said.
Arthur smiled. "Anytime."
Mostang appeared out of nowhere.
"WOW," he said loudly. "IS THIS A ROMANTIC ANIME SCENE—"
Emma looked at him.
Mostang vanished.
Emma adjusted the hoodie slightly and looked back out the window.
Her thighs finally relaxed a little.
She didn't say it—
But she appreciated it.
----
The bell rang.
Students poured out of school—laughing, shouting, free.
Emma walked alone, bag on her shoulder, steps steady.
Then she noticed them.
Motorcycles parked near the gate.
Engines still warm.
Smoke curling into the air.
A gang.
Leather jackets. Scarred knuckles. Quiet in the way dangerous people are quiet.
Students instinctively walked around them.
Emma didn't change pace.
One of them lifted his head.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A cigarette between his fingers.
Liam.
He wasn't talking. Wasn't laughing.
He was staring.
At her.
Not like prey.
Like something… rare.
"…Who's that?" one of the guys muttered.
Liam didn't answer.
Emma walked past.
For a split second, her eyes flicked toward him.
Cold. Calm. Unafraid.
That was it.
That single glance hit harder than any punch.
Liam straightened slowly.
"…Damn," he muttered.
She didn't look back.
But he watched her until she turned the corner and disappeared.
One of the gang members smirked.
"Yo, Liam. You good?"
Liam crushed the cigarette under his boot.
"…I will be."
Across the street, Emma kept walking.
She felt the stare.
She always did.
---
Early morning.
The city was barely awake.
Liam sat up on the edge of his bed, sunlight cutting through the blinds in thin lines. His room smelled faintly of oil, smoke, and metal—same as always.
But something was different.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Stupid," he muttered.
He hadn't slept well. Not because of noise. Not because of trouble.
Because of her.
That girl from yesterday.
Calm eyes. No fear. No hesitation.
He stood, pulled on a jacket, grabbed his keys.
The bike roared to life far earlier than usual.
---
Near the school.
Too early for most students.
Liam leaned against his motorcycle across the street, arms crossed, pretending he was just killing time. Woke up early in the morning. Just to see Her.
He told himself that.
People passed by—workers, students, couples.
None of them were her.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Emma appeared at the end of the street.
Same pace. Same posture. Same quiet presence.
Skirt. Bag on her shoulder. Hair moving slightly with each step.
Liam straightened without realizing it.
She walked closer.
Didn't look at him at first.
Then her eyes flicked sideways.
She noticed him.
Just for a second.
No surprise.
No fear.
Just recognition.
"…You again," Emma said calmly as she passed.
Liam blinked.
She stopped.
Turned slightly.
"…Do you need something?" she asked.
Straightforward. No attitude.
Liam huffed a quiet laugh.
"…Nah," he said. "Just wanted to see you."
Emma studied him.
"…That's strange."
"Yeah," he agreed easily. "I am."
A pause.
"…You shouldn't hang around schools," Emma said.
"Fair," Liam replied. "But you walk this way."
Another pause.
Then Emma turned fully toward him.
"…Don't follow me," she said.
Not threatening.
Not scared.
Just factual.
Liam raised both hands slightly. "Wasn't planning to."
She nodded once.
"…Good."
She turned and continued walking.
Liam watched her go.
Heart beating faster than it had in years.
"…Damn, And above it She got a large ass" he whispered.
For the first time in a long time—
He smiled.
Arthur stood on the opposite side of the street.
He had arrived early too—earphones in, bag slung over one shoulder, half-awake.
Then he saw her.
Emma.
Walking like always.
And then he saw him.
The motorcycle.
The jacket.
The way he leaned like he owned the place.
Arthur slowed.
He watched.
He saw Emma stop.
Saw her turn.
Saw them exchange words he couldn't hear.
Arthur's fingers tightened around his bag strap.
Who is that…?
He didn't move.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't call out.
He just watched Emma speak—calm, composed, unshaken—and then walk away like nothing happened.
The biker stayed behind.
Watching her.
Arthur swallowed.
Something cold settled in his chest.
Not jealousy.
Not anger.
Something closer to… instinct.
He's dangerous, Arthur thought. I can tell.
Emma disappeared into the school gates.
Arthur waited until the biker finally turned back to his motorcycle and left, the engine roaring down the street.
Chapter end