Luke stood in the hallway, leaning against one of the large windows facing the classrooms.

He was waiting in front of the room that would host the first class of the day—a theoretical, and likely boring, subject.

Having honed his skills with the help of exceptional teachers, ghostly sages, and warriors in the cemetery where he worked, he now had to sit and listen to someone whose knowledge came solely from books.

The professor was late. Luke's mind began to wander.

He often got caught up in his daily life as a student and forgot the true reason for his presence at the school: unmasking the killer.

He had received all the information about the killer from the Laboratory, but why couldn't such a powerful organization find the killer themselves? Luke was astonished when he learned the answer.

The killer possessed a unique ability to change his shape—bone structure, skin color, voice, and even eye color. The Laboratory couldn't explain how it was possible, leaving Luke and Hannah in the dark and risking their lives.

"Maybe Hannah is right... They'll dispose of us as soon as they can," Luke thought, scanning the hallway.

He noticed the students waiting near him and considered analyzing each person, hoping it might be interesting or, at the very least, entertaining. After all, the killer could be right there.

There were small groups of students. The first was comprised of five girls, all dressed in the standard uniform with their hair neatly tied back. Their posture, conversation, and carefully applied makeup indicated they came from a privileged background, attending the school more due to their parents' influence than their own talent. They laughed loudly while occasionally glancing at another group of three young women.

Luke then observed the second group. These young women also wore the standard uniforms, but their hair was slightly unkempt or at least less polished. They spoke louder than the others and laughed without covering their mouths. Their topics of discussion seemed more colorful and carefree. Their gaze carried a certain nobility—not the type born with a silver spoon in one's mouth and silk beneath their buttocks, but rather a nobility of heart forged through effort. These two groups were entirely different, yet only a discerning eye could tell them apart. A casual observer would have seen a single group of women dressed the same way.

Luke moved on to the next group, this time a group of five young men. They laughed among themselves, elbowing each other and occasionally stealing glances at the 'noble-born' girls. Based on their accents and characterless expressions, Luke surmised they were more boys than men, yet to face the responsibilities of adulthood.

He found it sad that they were likely his age and had only ever known school hallways and their mothers' kitchens. "A stint carrying weapons and serving in a war might do them some good," he mused, turning his attention to the last group.

Five men, no, rather four men and another one in the middle of them. Four tall men surrounded a smaller man who appeared frightened. They jostled him slightly while snickering. What troubled Luke was that they all clearly belonged to the same social class. Their shoes were laced similarly, their shirts weren't ironed, and their capes had slight stains. And their accent - a thick accent reminiscent of the poor neighborhoods of the city.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Not only does no one mix, despite appearances, but they also sabotage each other instead of helping one another... Pathetic," thought Luke as he turned his head to find a new subject to study.

Then, a new protagonist appeared. A young girl wearing a beanie in the middle of summer. A non-regulation skirt and no cape. She walked down the hallway and leaned her back against the window ledge, close to Luke. She was late, but didn’t seem bothered by it. He had already seen her, the day before in class.

Luke stared at her intently. He couldn't quite figure her out. Her social status was unclear. She had a certain nobility and grace in her movements. Her nonchalance indicated a detachment from the rules.

"That must be a characteristic of someone important... Right?" Luke wondered. But upon closer inspection, he noticed her worn-out beanie. Her skirt was made of low-quality fabric. Even her shoes were neither regulation nor of good quality.

Then she turned her head towards Luke and started talking. "So, either you sleep or you watch people. That's veeeery disrespectful. It's bad. Bad. Okay?" she said, waving her finger at Luke. Her voice was gentle, and she had a slight accent, but it was impossible to place it.

"Sorry, I was just looking at your beanie. Isn't it a bit too hot to wear one?" asked Luke.

The young girl adjusted her beanie, pulling it down to cover her eyebrows.

"You wear capes and pants; that's worse," she replied.

She had a point; Luke felt hot.

She continued talking: "Do you know why they force students to wear unsuitable clothes and wait like fools in front of an empty room at a specific time?" asked the young girl. Luke looked up, took a slight breath, and said, "No, tell me."

The young girl grinned widely. "You look like someone who knows. But okay, I'll tell you: it's because they're training us to be good little dogs. They make us do things that make no sense to make us lose our sense of direction. The direction. Do you know what happens to someone who loses their sense of direction?" she asked, tapping Luke's chest with her index finger and raising her voice.

"Once again, no idea," replied Luke.

"You drift. You lose your standard, your point of comparison. So what happens? You find a new point of comparison, a new standard. You become completely dependent on the new direction, the new authority figure. The person who tells you what to do and what to think," the young girl said, waving her hands. There was madness in the way she expressed herself, but her voice remained soft, and each of her movements was graceful.

Luke looked at her with interest. Her eyes were brown. But something was off, as if she was wearing contact lenses. Her pale skin was perfectly smooth. Her canines were quite visible when she spoke.

"So, where's your direction?" asked Luke, squinting. The young girl raised her finger. "Cats," she said.

"Cats?" asked Luke. "Yes, I like cats," she replied.

"So the direction you give your life is... cats?" asked Luke, astonished.

"Nothing is more free than a cat. Everything belongs to me; I do what I want. I sleep when I want. And I hunt," a feline smile appeared on her face, surprising Luke. She was completely serious. As strange as her speech seemed, there was some truth in it. Free-spirited, she appeared detached from everything.

Luke could have doubted; he might have thought that behind this nonchalance hid the killer. After all, hadn't she talked about hunting? Yet, Luke felt no malice from her. And besides, she had been sitting next to him in class at the time of the last victim's death.

Suddenly, the teacher arrived, plunged his keys into the door's lock, and after a few turns, opened it. No apology, not even a glance at the students. The girl in the beanie began to move towards the classroom door.

She turned towards Luke for a moment. "That's the direction to follow, apparently."