Savannah slips into her usual spot in the back of the classroom, her eyes scanning the room as her classmates gossip and laugh in small cliques. She isn't close to anyone here, never had been. Since her sister Sahara's death, she had shut herself off even more, keeping her world small, tight, and controlled. Only two friends remain in her circle now, and even they have a hard time reaching her.

But today, something shifted. She has to step out of her bubble, has to cross an invisible line she's drawn for herself. All because of Giovanni Merano.

The moment Savannah decided to get closer to Giovanni, she felt the eyes on her. Whispers start circulating almost immediately. She knows how it looks. Giovanni is untouchable; handsome, intelligent, and the illegitimate son of the Merano family, the family who practically owns the school. He has a legion of admirers, girls who fawn over him as if he were royalty. For Savannah, someone who keeps to herself, someone who has never shown interest in him or anyone else, to suddenly make a move, it's suspicious.

And people noticed.

"Look at her now, trying to get Giovanni's attention," a girl mutters to her friends across the hall, sneaking a sideways glance at Savannah.

"I still can't believe Sahara is gone. It should have been that girl who died, not our beloved Sahara."

"I didn't think she talked to anyone besides those two nobodies," another chimes in with a sneer.

Savannah keeps her head down, her jaw clenched tightly. She hears every word, but it doesn't faze her. They don't matter. What matters is her plan, her purpose. Savannah concludes that Giovanni is connected to Sahara's death... she had invited him to a secret meeting on the day she disappeared, only to be found dead shortly after. She knows there's something dark lurking beneath his perfect exterior, something no one else has seen.

But the more time she spends with him, the more he confuses her.

In the beginning, Giovanni is distant, though not unfriendly. He doesn't question her sudden interest in him; instead, he welcomes her company with surprising warmth. His kindness, his calm demeanor, it all throws her off. Savannah expects to see cracks in the façade, expects his true nature to surface. Yet, day after day, Giovanni shows her nothing but genuine kindness. He offers to help her with assignments, waits for her after class, and talks with her as if they've been friends for years.

Sometimes, Savannah forgets why she got close to him in the first place.

Weeks pass, and her frustration grows. She tries everything; subtle provocations, testing his patience, even coldly pushing him away, but Giovanni remains unshaken, always kind, always steady. He's polite, thoughtful, and even when Savannah tries to bait him into showing anger or frustration, he responds with nothing but a calm, measured smile.

It infuriates her. How can someone like him, a boy who stood beside a dead body without a shred of emotion, be so perfect on the outside? How can he be so intelligent, so talented, and yet so kind-hearted?

It doesn't make sense.

Savannah refuses to let her guard down, though. No matter how gentle and kind Giovanni appears, she can't forget what she's seen. She can't let herself be fooled by his charm, his perfection. If he's really behind Sahara's death, then he must be a master manipulator. Maybe he's just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike again.

But the more time they spend together, the more doubts creep in. Giovanni isn't just good at pretending, he seems genuinely kind, someone who couldn't possibly be capable of such cruelty. And yet, every time she looks into his eyes, she wonders: which version of him is real? The Giovanni who stood silently over their teacher's lifeless body, or the Giovanni who smiles warmly and helps her with her homework?

The lines between her goal and her growing confusion blur. Savannah catches herself, more than once, forgetting her mission entirely when they're together. It terrifies her how easily Giovanni can make her feel... normal. Like she isn't broken, like she isn't drowning in grief and suspicion.

But then she reminds herself of why she started all of this... to uncover the truth. And no matter how perfect Giovanni seems, no matter how he makes her feel, Savannah won't rest until she knows whether Giovanni Merano had anything to do with Sahara's death.

Because if he did, no amount of kindness can hide the darkness she knows lurks beneath.

Cercis

I was halfway through a paragraph. Finally in that elusive “flow state” where the words actually cooperate, when my phone started ringing.

Mr. Park. Of course.

With a sigh, I saved my draft and straightened my posture like a student about to get scolded for existing. “Yes, sir?”

“Cercis, could you come to my office right now, please?” His tone was the kind that didn’t ask so much as command.

“On my way,” I said, already bracing myself for whatever fresh nonsense awaited.

By the time I reached his office, I could tell this wasn’t going to be good. Mr. Park had that “grim but polite” expression bosses wear when they’re about to ruin your day but want to pretend they feel bad about it.

And sitting by the door, smirking, no less, was her. The office parrot. The boss’s favorite and the daughter of one of the company’s higher-ups. The same girl who once “accidentally” forwarded one of my private manuscripts to the team group chat.

Fantastic audience choice.

“Cercis,” Mr. Park began, lacing his fingers together, “I’m afraid we need to discuss your recent performance.”

I didn’t say anything. Just waited.

He cleared his throat. “We’ve noticed a decline in your productivity these past few weeks. Missed deadlines. Lack of focus. And… certain unprofessional interactions, flirting, with models.”

There it is.

He slid a piece of paper toward me. My name printed neatly at the top. Notice of Dismissal.

I stared at it for a second, then exhaled through my nose. “Ah. The classic.”

The parrot giggled from the corner. I didn’t even bother looking at her.

Unprofessional interactions, huh? The only person I’d spoken to outside of work stuff recently was Shun. Talking. That’s all. Talking. If that counted as “flirting,” then apparently I’d been seducing the entire breakroom for years.

Still, I didn’t protest. What was the point? It was obvious someone had been whispering in the right ears, and it wasn’t me.

I picked up the letter, folded it neatly, and tucked it into my bag. “Understood.”

Mr. Park blinked. “You’re not going to… say anything?”

I gave him a small smile. “Would it make a difference?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Actually, there’s… one more thing.”

Of course there is.

“You won’t be unemployed,” he continued, his tone softening like that would help. “You’re being transferred to another agency. Someone I recently met made a specific request for you.”

That made me pause. “A specific request?”

“Yes. They insisted. Said they knew your work and wanted you on their team.”

My brow arched. “Did they happen to leave a name?”

He smiled mysteriously, the kind of look bosses give when they think they’re delivering good news. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

Right. Because cryptic job transfers are totally normal and not at all suspicious.

I gave a short nod, turned on my heel, and headed for the door. As I passed the parrot, she whispered, “Guess some people really can flirt their way up… or down.”

I stopped just long enough to flash her a lazy smirk. “Yeah. Guess you’d know all about that.”

Her smile twitched. Satisfying.

Walking out of that office, dismissal letter in hand, I felt the strange mix of irritation and relief. Maybe it was the universe’s way of pushing me somewhere else. Or maybe it was just karma having a sense of humor.

Either way, someone apparently wants me.

And I have no idea who... or why.

But something tellsme… it isn't going to be good.

The moment I pushed the door open, I nearly bumped into someone tall and familiar.

Shun.

He was standing right there in the hallway, pretending to check his phone but clearly having heard everything. His expression was somewhere between guilty and worried.

“Well,” I said, raising a brow, “if you were going to eavesdrop, you could’ve at least come in with popcorn.”

He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t—I just… heard your name.”

“Sure,” I drawled, folding my arms. “Guess I can’t really blame them for firing me, huh? You do keep popping up at my desk. Maybe next time, try not being so charming.”

That earned a small laugh out of him, though it faded quickly. “I’m sorry, Cercis. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

I waved it off. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself. Those people have hated me since the day I got promoted. They just found a convenient excuse this time.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. Instead, his gaze softened, and for a second, I almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

A group of employees passed by us then, whispering not-so-subtly. Every single one of them turned to stare at Shun like he was some celestial being that accidentally wandered into the mortal realm. I could practically hear their thoughts: Oh my god, he’s even prettier in person.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes so hard I’d see my own brain.

There it is again...that little twist in my chest. Irritation? Possessiveness? Who knows. All I know is that after tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to keep him under watch anymore.

And that… doesn't sit right with me.

So I leaned closer, close enough for those gossiping coworkers to hear, and smirked. “Hey, Shun,” I said, sweetly venomous, “mind if I drop by your shoots sometimes? You know, to flirt with you?”

I made sure to emphasize the word, loud enough for the parrot and her little clique to catch it as they passed.

Shun blinked in surprise, then giggled, soft and genuine. “Sure,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

I shot a slow, deliberate stink-eye toward the girls. The way they stiffened was pure satisfaction.

“Good,” I said breezily, turning back to him. “We’ll make it a spectacle.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm. And you love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

Later that night, my apartment was quiet except for the sound of my pencil scratching across paper, and the occasional clink of a wine glass being refilled.

Half-finished sketches cluttered my desk. Most were of him... Shun, Giovanni, whatever name my half-drunken brain decided on. The lines blurred between fantasy and reality as I drew. His sharp eyes. That annoyingly perfect jawline. The lips that always looked like they were about to say something meaningful or infuriating.

I scrolled through his photos on my phone for “reference.” Totally professional, of course. Except, since Shun didn’t really do sexy shoots, I… improvised.

One stroke at a time, I merged his face with a body that existed only in my imagination. Not too far-fetched, though. I had seen him shirtless once when he accidentally spilled coffee on himself backstage. That mental snapshot came in handy.

I snorted at myself. “You’re pathetic, Cercis,” I muttered, though my pencil kept moving.

The sketch came alive, confident, graceful, a bit dangerous. Giovanni’s smirk with Shun’s eyes. Or was it the other way around? I couldn’t tell anymore.

My phone buzzed.

I groaned, fumbling for it between empty bottles and eraser shavings. An unknown number.

Hello, Cercis. It’s me. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. —Your future boss

I stared at the message for a good ten seconds, then leaned back in my chair.

“…Well, that’s not creepy at all,” I muttered, taking another sip.

Still, something about the tone, too confident, too familiar, made my stomach twist.

I glanced back at my sketch. Shun’s teal eyes stared up at me from the page.

“I hope it’s not who I think it is,” I murmured.

And for the first time that night, I wasn’t sure if I meant that as a joke.