My mother was teacher Mary.

That was why I often dreamed about someone I couldn’t quite remember but still felt close to my heart.

It had been her all along.

Fuzzy memories surged back: the faint “I love you” whispered by someone whose face was blurred; the tender, long arms holding me close; the curly hair swaying gently in the wind; and the sweet, encouraging “I love you” that soothed me just before sleep. The images remained blurry, but now I understood why those fragments had haunted me for so long.

Mom143. That was why.

Rico’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Hey, your friend’s about to say something important.”

“Everyone, I need you to listen carefully,” Chevonne said, her voice steady but intense. “I managed to speak with my father—through thought. He told me everything about what’s happening here. Yes, it’s shocking, but I had to keep my composure because there was a member of the Young Bloods in our group.”

She glanced at Josh.

“I didn’t want him to know I’d figured it out. But he grew suspicious. Things escalated, and I had to link him earlier than planned—to force him to help us during the crisis we faced. There are so many Garcias in the world, but I can’t believe he’s actually from that Garcia family.”

“Wait a minute.” I leaned forward. “Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Finlay.”

The revelation was a bit predictable, yet it still hit me hard.

Chevonne stood, moving the coffee table aside so we could all see her clearly. She took a deep breath through her nose before continuing.

“So, as I was saying... The Young Bloods are on our trail. We need to prepare because they will try to kill. They’ll only spare Jelly because they need her to initiate the transference rite for their leader. But once it’s complete, they’ll kill her, too.”

I flinched, but Chevonne kept going.

“The Young Bloods—the people I want you to consider our enemies—aren’t invincible. They may be skilled thinkers, but they can be defeated. Their methods, though... They rely on torture and killing to get what they want. We, on the other hand, just want to disarm them—to render them unable to fight. And that... is the problem.”

Rico frowned. “What’s the problem?”

Chevonne’s lips pressed together. “I don’t know how to defeat them without hurting them.”

“Why not just fight back?” Rico’s voice sharpened. “If they’re trying to kill us, shouldn’t we return the favor? I don’t want to kill anyone, but if our lives are on the line, we have to retaliate. Isn’t that better than just sitting around waiting to get slaughtered?”

I shot him a look for his harsh tone, but he only shrugged and waited for Chevonne’s answer.

“I don’t know. But the Young Bloods... They live up to their name. They’re… young.”

Josh blinked. “Wait, what? We’re not dealing with a group of grown men?”

His reaction mirrored my own confusion.

Chevonne’s expression grew heavier. “I know it’s hard to believe. I was just as shocked when I first learned the truth. But you need to stay open-minded and accept the facts. We don’t have the time to argue or doubt each other—not when you learn who they really are. Especially us, as teachers.”

Josh folded his arms. “Go on. After everything we’ve heard, I don’t think anything can surprise me anymore. What are you saying? Are they part of the barge crew at the beach?”

“No,” a voice said from upstairs.

A figure trudged down the carpeted steps, revealing himself in the dim light.

Dr. Shawn.

He wore only a pair of crumpled black pants, torn in places. Gashes and bruises marred his muscular chest and abs. His amputated shoulder was fully bandaged, hiding the bloody damage beneath.

“They’re all dead,” he said.

Rico was the first to shoot to his feet. Clenching his fists, he stormed toward Dr. Shawn, stopping just a meter from him.

His teeth gritted as he forced the words out. “T—tell me you’re lying.”

“It’s true,” Dr. Shawn replied, his voice grim. “I was the only one who managed to escape. The Young Bloods murdered everyone on the shore. I barely got away but at the cost of my arm.” He winced, touching his bandaged shoulder.

Chevonne’s face shifted, the color draining from her cheeks. “Wait... wait. Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Even the teachers?”

“Not a single one was spared.”

My throat tightened. “Even... teacher Mary?”

Dr. Shawn met my gaze, holding it firmly. He didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes confirmed everything.

Chevonne—always composed, always mature—sank to the floor. Silent tears spilled over her cheeks as the reality struck her. She was the only one who had known the full truth of our situation—the only one carrying the weight of responsibility and hope. And now, that hope was gone. The crushing failure to save anyone left her unraveling before us.

I crawled to her side, whispering whatever words of comfort came to mind, but nothing worked. Nothing could undo the truth pressing on us like a stone. Everyone was dead.

I fought the sob rising in my throat, but it clawed its way out.

Teacher Mary was gone.

My mother was gone.

We never even got to know each other as mother and daughter.

We were caught in something so much more dangerous than we’d realized. And any one of us could be next.

I could be next.

Josh suddenly lunged at Dr. Shawn, knocking him to the floor with a loud thud.

Dr. Shawn winced, crying out in pain. “Who the—”

“Don’t be cocky!” Josh’s roar drowned him out. “Don’t you dare say everyone’s dead like it means nothing!”

His fist slammed into the floor.

Then, again.

And again.

The sound echoed through the room until his knuckles bled, his fists trembling. His mask of bravado shattered as he finally collapsed, wailing uncontrollably.

Dr. Shawn, seeing the raw pain up close, seemed unable to stop himself from being affected. He shoved Josh aside but didn’t retaliate. Instead, he sat on the cold floor, shoulders shaking as he wept quietly.

Now, nearly everyone was crying.

A sudden creaking noise broke the silence.

The old man was rummaging through a cupboard, his face cold and unreadable.

He pulled out a pistol and placed it on the coffee table.

“Use is this.”

We all stared at him. Then, at the pistol.

I wasn’t sure what kind of gun it was, but it looked old—like something pirates would use. The long barrel bore intricate carvings along the hand rest.

Chevonne blinked, wiping her tear-streaked face. “Wh—what are we supposed to do with this? Are you telling us... You want us to kill them?”

“No, that’s not a working gun,” Dr. Shawn said.

He stood, took the pistol from the table, and examined it closely. He raised it, aiming toward the windows, then lowered it with a satisfied nod and set it back down.

“It’s a cursed item,” he said.

“What?” Chevonne leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Where did you get this? Cursed items are extremely rare, especially when the maledicter isn’t actively channeling their thought. If it’s still here, that means the maledicter tied to it is still alive.”

Rico’s gaze shifted sharply to the old man. “I know where you got it. It’s from that woman who cursed you, right?”

The old man didn’t answer. He only sank back into his chair and began rubbing the beast's under-chin.

So, that was a yes.

Chevonne pressed further. “What are we supposed to do with this? How is a cursed pistol going to help us?”

The old man tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as he sighed. “You know what is the silencer can do? It do the same.”

Josh blinked. “Oh, sweet. A portable Finlay.”

Chevonne explained what a silencer was.

Josh picked up the pistol, weighing it back and forth in his palms as if testing its balance. His expression grew serious.

“So... who exactly are we dealing with?” he asked. “I hope you can give us names.”

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

Chevonne crossed her arms. “I think you already have a clue.”

Josh lowered the pistol. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, piecing things together. Finally, he spoke.

“Is it... the student council?”

Chevonne didn’t answer. She just stared at the floor.

There was something strange about the way they understood each other. It felt like they shared a connection deeper than time would suggest as if they’d been through more together than the rest of us knew.

And honestly? I wasn’t even shocked anymore. The idea of the student council being involved—or even leading—this mess barely fazed me.

“Their leader,” Chevonne said, her voice low, “is Samuel Cuer. One of our teachers.”

That hit harder.

“What? No! That’s impossible!” I blurted. “He’s... He’s a good person! He’s always helping students. He’d never—”

“Jelly, think.” Chevonne’s voice sharpened. “It was a facade. He played a part, just like teacher Mary did. You know now how important she was to them, right? One of their goals was to monitor her closely—to follow her until she triggered the curse, which would mean they’d found the next creator.

“But the curse was poorly made. Maximus said the maledicter wasn’t skilled enough to refine it properly, which means they still don’t know who the next creator is.”

I shook my head, struggling to process it.

She continued, her voice steadier. “Once the curse triggered, they set their plan into motion. Teacher Samuel applied to our school and worked his way into becoming the student council adviser. Then, he filled the council with Young Bloods. This entire trip—this retreat—was their idea. That’s why we’re here now.”

She had a point. The logic made sense. But I couldn’t fully accept it. Or maybe... I just didn’t want to.

Chevonne pressed on, her voice heavier now.

“As the leader of the Young Bloods, Samuel is the most dangerous. He’s a warper. Even though he’s in the orange margin, a warper is a warper. No matter how skilled you are, you can’t outrun one. They can jump from one spot to another instantly—faster than you can react.”

Josh’s voice cut in, sharper now. “What about the other student council members? What... What exactly can they do?”

Chevonne nodded grimly. “First on the list? Priscilla. She’s a controller—the most dangerous one after Samuel. She’s already in the red margin. The moment you enter her thought, consider yourself dead meat. Controllers have smaller thought diameters than others, but don’t underestimate them. Once she gets inside your mind... She won’t let you go.”

“Wait,” Rico cut in, his voice sharp. “Jelly, remember teacher Norkie?”

“Yes... What about him?”

“He moved so stiffly, almost robotic, remember? What if he was being controlled? Manipulated somehow?”

I felt a jolt of realization. “You’re right! And Ritchelle, too! The way she just... dropped dead—no wounds, no signs of struggle. What if she was under the same influence?”

Josh straightened, his face tense. “What about the rest?”

His voice had a strange urgency now.

Chevonne shifted, eyeing him closely before continuing. “Next on the list is the vice president, Joseph. He’s in the red margin, too—a slasher. He can generate deadly slashes just by swinging his hands. His thought diameter is small, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. Some thinkers say the best way to stop a slasher is to cut off their arms, but in our case—”

“We can’t do that,” I finished for her.

Josh nodded stiffly. His breathing had quickened, and sweat beaded along his temple.

Chevonne hesitated, then she continued. “Next is the treasurer, Rex—”

“He’s part of this, huh.” Josh’s voice cracked.

Before any of us could react, he bolted upright and lunged for the window, smashing his fists through the glass with a sickening crash. Splinters of glass rained down as he kept swinging, his knuckles shredding against the jagged edges.

“Josh, stop!” I cried, but he didn’t hear me. His face twisted with rage and agony, his veins bulging, his bloodied fists hammering the broken window frame again and again.

Chevonne and I shrank back, clutching each other, too shocked to move.

Rico, without a word, sprinted forward. He drove his fist into Josh’s jaw in a sharp uppercut. Josh collapsed like a rag doll, crumpling to the floor with a dull thud.

Rico exhaled heavily, mist curling from his lips in the freezing night air. “I... I couldn’t think of anything better,” he muttered, shaking out his bruised hand.

Dr. Shawn crouched beside him, checking Josh’s pulse. “You handled it well enough,” he said, his voice calm but tight.

Chevonne peeled herself from my side, her eyes wide. “Is... Is he okay?”

Rico knelt, feeling for breath against Josh’s lips. “Yeah. Just knocked out.”

He and Dr. Shawn lifted him between them and carried him upstairs. Their footsteps faded, leaving a cold silence behind.

I exhaled shakily. The tension hadn’t left me.

“If I remember right... Rex is Josh’s nephew,” I murmured to Chevonne.

She nodded grimly then approached the old man at the bar. “I’m sorry about the mess. We’ll clean up the shards an—”

“Don’t is the bother,” he said gruffly. “Leave it.”

I stood, still trembling. “Chevonne, please. Tell me the rest.”

She returned, taking my hands tightly in hers.

“Alright,” she whispered. “As I was saying... Rex is a burster. The last red-margin thinker in the council. He has a compacted thought, meaning his thought expands just enough to coat his entire body. Normally, he can only burst the parts he’s physically touching, but with enough training... He can extend his thought inside a victim’s body.”

A chill settled in my stomach.

“Then, there are the twins,” she continued. “Momo and Mimi. The ones always absent from school. People think they’re sick, but my father told me it’s just a cover. They’ve been in intense training and only recently classified. Momo’s a summoner, and Mimi’s a sizer. Both are in the orange margin.”

She explained briefly how their abilities worked.

“Actually,” she added grimly, “we’ve already encountered them. Indirectly.”

Suddenly, the old man let out a sharp gasp and collapsed from his chair, clutching his chest.

“Sir!” Chevonne rushed to his side, panic rising in her voice.

“Rico! Dr. Shawn! Help!”

The two came pounding down the stairs. They eased the old man onto the couch and began undoing his tuxedo jacket and cerulean long-sleeved shirt, revealing a damp white undershirt beneath. Sweat soaked his face, and he gasped, struggling for air.

Dr. Shawn checked his pulse. His face darkened.

Then, for some reason, he turned and looked straight at me.

“Stick out your hands. He’s... He’s going to quicken it.”

Chevonne sobbed, clutching my arm. “Jelly, just let him finish. Please.”

I didn’t understand, but I obeyed. The old man gripped my trembling hands with surprising strength. His skin felt clammy, his breathing shallow.

Then, a searing pain shot through my skull. I convulsed, gasping as a blinding green light burst from my temple. The room swam in a thick, swirling mist—the same unnatural fog I’d seen on the barge.

The broken window reflected my face. My eyes glowed pale green, radiant and unnatural.

Then, the light faded, and the mist dissolved.

“What... What was that?” I panted, my heart racing.

The old man groaned, writhing. The same green light retracted back to his temple.

And then... He was gone.

Dr. Shawn knelt beside him, checking for a pulse.

The old man’s body crumbled. His flesh disintegrated into fine, pale ash that glittered faintly green. The ash lifted, spiraling upward like a thousand tiny fireflies. They hovered then faded into nothing.

Dr. Shawn bowed his head. “Thank you, Maximus.”

*****

We gathered in a small room on the second floor where the boys had brought Josh earlier. He was still unconscious, his bandaged hands resting at his sides.

Just an hour ago, Dr. Shawn had finally revealed the truth.

He wasn’t just a doctor. He was also a thinker.

His family had sent him here to protect Maximus. He explained that he was an esper, able to control and manipulate non-living objects within his thought. To demonstrate, he raised his hand, and the shards from the shattered window rose, reassembling midair. The glass returned perfectly to its original place.

But the moment he released his focus, the shards fell and shattered again, this time into even smaller fragments.

Chevonne helped him explain further.

Thinkers, she said, had become dangerous. Society no longer accepted them. They were feared—branded as abominations. Some wealthy thinker families, however, sought to control this power. They would adopt children from poorer thinker families, taking them in as subfamilies. These children were trained to harness their abilities—whether for good... or for something far worse.

The wealthy bloodlines were called head families. The families who served them were called subfamilies.

The Lorena subfamily, which was Dr. Shawn’s family name, served the Ladra head family—Maximus' family.

I was still trying to process it all when they mentioned something even stranger.

There were... four realms.

They lost me for a moment with all the technical details, but I managed to understand the basics.

One realm was sacred to thinkers. It was a place governed by a set of laws crafted by the creator. They called it Dimension One. For generations, the realm served as a sanctuary for thinker families, but its creator had ultimate authority over who could enter—or be banished.

Maximus Ladra had once been a close friend of the previous creator. They could move between realms freely, sharing knowledge and power. But when the realm passed to a new heir—one who despised Maximus—he was exiled.

Forever.

The Ladra family had been cast out alongside him, forced to live in the human world, where they kept their abilities hidden. But the Ladras weren’t the only ones who resisted the new creator. Other families—like the Garcia and Amamapaw bloodlines—abandoned Dimension One, rejecting its oppressive leadership.

Since then, the realm had been sealed. No one knew what had become of it—or its mysterious creator.

Each remaining thinker family had developed their own philosophies. Some upheld justice. Others... did not.

The Lorena family, however, had made a solemn vow: to protect Maximus and his descendants.

Dr. Shawn’s father had been Maximus’ guardian before him. After his death, Dr. Shawn inherited the role.

He looked at me then, his expression grave.

“I will swear the same oath to you.”

My breath caught.

He knelt in front of me, his bloodstained hands trembling slightly as he took mine. “On behalf of the Ladra subfamily, I hereby vow to protect you and your bloodline for eternity.”

The sincerity in his voice made my face burn.

Then, he stood, clutching both my arms now, and went closer to my face. “Jelly, I will protect you. No matter what it takes.”

I hated myself for ever doubting him.

After Dr. Shawn swore his oath, Rico pulled me aside, his voice low.

"How can you just trust him like that? You’re really gonna take his word for it?”

I shook my head. "I don't. I just... don't know what else to do right now."

And that was where we rejoined the others upstairs to check on Josh.

*****

Chevonne knelt by Josh’s side, gripping his left hand tightly. Her lips moved in a quiet prayer, her face pale with worry.

Dr. Shawn stood by the windows, scanning the darkness outside. His expression remained calm, but his eyes shifted constantly.

Rico hovered beside me, still shooting Dr. Shawn suspicious glances.

Something tugged at my memory—something I hadn't asked yet.

“Chevonne," I whispered, "you said your mom knew the old man. How?”

Her face tensed. “He was... a friend of our family. He once saved my mother’s life in an accident and even helped her reconnect with my father later. Ever since, he’s been part of her late-night stories. Almost like a legend.”

Before I could respond, Josh stirred. His hand twitched beneath Chevonne’s. She tightened her grip, leaning closer.

His eyes blinked open. He blinked at the sight of Chevonne’s hand on his. Then, he quickly yanked his hand back under the blanket, his face flushing.

What was that? Was Josh actually blushing? I didn’t know he had such a soft side.

Peeking over the hem of the blanket, his voice came out low and muffled.

“I... I’m sorry for what I did. I just—Rex is family. It got to me.”

He apologized again, his voice cracking a little, and Rico nodded, glancing down.

“Yeah, me, too,” Rico muttered. “I shouldn't have punched you like that. Sorry, man.”

The tension in the room melted just a little. For the first time in a while, the air felt warm—comforting.

Chevonne cleared her throat. “So... about the council members. There’s more you need to know.”

She recapped everything—their powers, their thought margins, and the dangers we were up against. We started piecing together a plan, each idea adding to the next. For the first time, we felt prepared.

Then, we heard something. It was a deep, echoing creak above us.

We barely had time to react.

The roof groaned—then collapsed.

A crushing weight slammed down as the floor shattered beneath us.

We plunged into darkness, the world spinning in a freefall.

Everything went black.