Luke... always kind, always helpful. But Ethan knew it was this very nature that would make Luke hard to convince about the existence of monsters. Luke might think Ethan was crazy, or just overwhelmed by stress. Winning his trust would take time, and time was the one thing Ethan didn’t have.

Samuel, on the other hand... Ethan frowned as a memory flashed through his mind. “Don’t drag me into your madness!” Samuel’s anger, his desperation—it wasn’t just because of Ethan’s erratic behavior. It was deeper than that. His reaction had been one of fear, as though revealing the existence of monsters would plunge him into something darker. Maybe Samuel already knew the truth.

Samuel was the key.

Ethan’s eyes slowly shifted to the back of the classroom, where Samuel sat, distant as ever. He was always separated from the others, whether in class or during breaks, like he was avoiding any connection. Was his isolation a defense mechanism because he knew too much?

If Samuel did know, then he had likely made his own compromises. Maybe he’d chosen to stay silent, protecting himself and his sister. Ethan took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Rash actions wouldn’t help now. He needed to get close to Samuel, but without giving him the chance to deny the truth or shut down the conversation. He had to make Samuel feel like he could trust him—only then would Samuel share what he knew, or at least stop hiding critical information.

If he could get Samuel on his side, maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

He quickly crafted a simple plan in his head. Compared to Luke’s kindness and uncertainty, Samuel seemed the more realistic option. He had already shown signs of suspicion. If Ethan wanted him as an ally, he had to act fast. He was running out of time—tomorrow, by noon, his parents would devour him.

Ethan tapped his fingers on his textbook, his mind racing with the next steps. Talking to Samuel in private was tricky; Samuel would likely deny everything. He trusted no one, and his actions proved it. Ethan needed a direct approach to make Samuel confront the reality they both knew.

At the front of the class, Mr. Foster droned on about literary structure and theme analysis, his notes filling the board. He flipped through a thick book of classic literature and scanned the students. “Your homework for tonight is to write an analytical essay on this passage.”

The room groaned in unison, protests rising as students slumped in their seats. “Come on, Mr. Foster, we already have so much work!” someone complained, joined by a chorus of agreement.

Ethan didn’t hear any of it. His mind was fixed on a single thought: he desperately needed the bell to ring, signaling the end of class. He had to talk to Samuel. There wasn’t much time left.

Finally, the bell rang. Mr. Foster gave a tight-lipped frown as he closed his book. “Don’t forget your assignment,” he called out sternly.

Even with the pile of homework still looming, the students quickly resumed their chatter and playfulness, filling the classroom with laughter. But Ethan wasn’t relaxed. His eyes were still locked on Samuel, sitting alone in the corner.

Samuel’s red hair was slightly disheveled, and his pale skin gave him a shadowy look, like someone who hadn’t seen sunlight in years. He was tall and thin, his tense shoulders and heavy expression making him seem out of place among the other students. Despite his noticeable appearance, Samuel always chose to keep his distance from others, isolating himself like a shadow that deliberately avoided blending into the light.

Ethan felt a strange sense of gratitude for Samuel’s detachment. It meant he could approach without raising suspicion. As the students jostled and joked around, Ethan slipped through the playful crowd, making his way across the room. He leaned down toward Samuel, speaking quietly into his ear. “You know about the monsters, don’t you?”

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Samuel’s eyes widened in shock, his face betraying a moment of panic. Before he could speak, Ethan cut him off. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

At that moment, Henry’s voice interrupted them. “Ethan? Since when are you talking to Samuel? Didn’t know you guys were close,” Henry said, his tone playful but with a hint of confusion and jealousy, the way friends sometimes got.

Ethan stiffened. Henry had been his best friend. The familiarity between them was unsettling now, especially at this critical moment. He couldn’t let Henry pick up on anything strange.

“Uh,” Ethan forced a grin, scratching the back of his neck as if embarrassed. “I heard Samuel’s been going through some stuff. Just wanted to check on him.”

Henry glanced at Samuel, raising an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Ethan quickly looked at Samuel, his eyes firm with unspoken urgency. “Right, Samuel?”

Samuel hesitated, lowering his head for a moment before replying softly, “Yeah, something like that.”

Henry shrugged, giving Ethan a half-smile. “That’s very you, Ethan. Always trying to help.” His tone was light, but there was still an undercurrent of doubt.

Ethan patted Samuel on the shoulder. “Let’s talk outside. Too crowded in here.”

Samuel glanced at Henry, then nodded quietly. “Alright.”

Henry watched them for a moment longer, clearly curious, but then waved them off. “Alright, you two have fun.”

As they left the classroom, Ethan noticed Samuel moving cautiously, as if wary of even brushing against the other students. He was hyper-aware of his surroundings, which only confirmed Ethan’s suspicions.

They walked through the hallways in silence until Ethan led them to an old, unused storage room. The door was worn, the paint peeling, and dust clung to the frame. Ethan pushed it open, the rusty hinges creaking loudly. Inside, the air was stale and musty, with beams of light filtering through a small, grimy window.

The room was cluttered with forgotten furniture, old books, and abandoned lab equipment. Ethan gestured for Samuel to enter, then quickly shut the door behind them. When he turned back, Samuel’s expression had changed. His usual withdrawn demeanor was replaced with something cold and angry. The hostility in his eyes was so sharp it almost made Ethan step back.

Samuel spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what you think you’ve figured out, but if you want to get yourself killed, don’t drag me into it.”

Ethan froze, staring at Samuel. His suspicions were confirmed. Samuel knew.

“You know?” Ethan’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You know about the monsters, don’t you? I’m not crazy…”

“Know? Know what?” Samuel’s laugh was bitter, his eyes narrowing with frustration. “You don’t know anything. And if you want to stay alive, you’ll keep pretending you don’t, either.”

“I can’t,” Ethan replied, his hands balling into fists. “They killed my parents—”

“Your parents?” Samuel cut him off, his voice cold. “The one thing I’m sure of is that you were never raised by your real parents.”

Ethan flinched, memories flooding back—memories of his classmates calling him Meatfolk. He let out a bitter laugh. “So that’s what they mean by ‘Meatfolk.’ I’ve been raised as food all along. Makes sense.”

“What?” Samuel’s face twisted with confusion and fear. “Meatfolk? You’ve been around the monsters? Damn it, Ethan! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Samuel quickly moved toward the door, yanking it open. “The monsters had their own rules. They won’t hurt humans unless they know the truth. If you’ve been near one, you’re exposed. Now any of them can go after you to consume you.”

“Wait, no!” Ethan stepped in front of him, desperate. “I’m not exposed.”

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he explained. “I’ve died four times, Samuel. Every time, I come back. Like… a Death Reset. The next time they’re going to kill me is tomorrow, on my sixteenth birthday.”

“What?” Samuel stopped, staring at him in disbelief.

Ethan knew how insane it all sounded, but he had no choice. “I know this sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I’ve lived it… I don’t know if you can believe me.”

Samuel’s gaze hardened, but after a long pause, he nodded slowly. “I believe you. What happened?”

Ethan swallowed hard, speaking slowly, "The first two times, I was killed by the monsters raising me on my birthday." His voice quivered slightly. The thought of living with ‘parents’ who saw him as nothing more than food filled him with a profound sense of sadness and helplessness.

"The third time... I went to Mr. Smith for help, but he was a monster too. He killed me." Ethan's voice trembled as he recalled the memory. "Mr. Smith... I thought he was human at first. His arm was bandaged, with blood seeping through. Monsters are supposed to have a black carapace underneath, not blood. Could someone have discovered the truth about them and injured him?"