Inside a high-level government building, in a dimly lit private room, two influential men sat across from each other. One of them was Edrick Muro, a renowned judge and the father of Raon Muro. Across from him sat General Ciro Tomo, a senior figure in the national police force.
Thin smoke from Ciro's cigarette curled into the air as he leaned forward, his voice calm but sharp.
"Eren Yeager..." he muttered. "Or more accurately… the undercover field agent planted at Tnelis High School."
Edrick raised an eyebrow slightly, setting down his cup of coffee on the wooden table.
"He's interfering with the system we've built for years," he said coolly.
Ciro nodded slowly. "We've tried to have his mission pulled... but it's complicated. He's currently operating under the authority of Miguel—son of one of the top brass in the National Security Agency."
Edrick stayed silent for a moment. "So we can't touch Yeager... not directly."
"No," said Ciro. "Unless you can catch him violating procedure, or frame it like he's contaminating an active investigation. But if we're too obvious, the central intelligence division will get suspicious."
Edrick leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "I knew who he was the moment he set foot in that school. I knew what he was doing the night the Baldwin case started making noise."
Ciro tilted his head. "So… what's your plan?"
"Let him move," Edrick said quietly. "But this time, we fill his path with traps. If he slips even once… everything he's protecting falls with him."
Ciro gave a cold smile. "Including his younger siblings at the school..."
The room fell silent again, save for the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.
Two powerful forces were now in motion… and Yeager had no idea just how closely his every step was being watched.
The school was quiet that afternoon. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, and the sun began to lean west. But behind that calmness, something dark was unfolding.
Zevanya, just out of her class, received a message from someone claiming to be the PE teacher, asking her to come to the storage room near the swimming pool to pick up something for the student council. Without suspicion, she walked there alone, following the directions given.
The room's door was open. It was quiet. Zevanya stepped in cautiously.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called out.
Suddenly — THUD!
From behind, Lina and her three friends shoved Zevanya hard. She lost her balance and — SPLASH! — fell into the swimming pool. She flailed desperately, her arms splashing at the water. Zevanya couldn't swim.
Meanwhile, the girls stood by the edge, laughing and recording a video on their phones.
"Oh my God! Look at her trying to swim!" laughed Lina.
"Like a little kid!"
But what they didn't know — someone had been watching.
Flashback — a few minutes earlier…
Yeager had just stepped out of his classroom, heading to the restroom when he spotted Zevanya walking alone toward an empty corridor. His instincts kicked in. He stopped, then silently changed direction and followed her at a distance.
As he neared the pool area, he heard splashing — and then faint giggles. Without hesitation, Yeager bolted forward.
"ZEVANYA!"
He dove into the pool without thinking, cutting through the water fast. He grabbed Zevanya's arm and pulled her to the side of the pool, helping her up onto solid ground.
Zevanya coughed, pale and panicked. Yeager hugged her tightly, patting her back gently yet urgently.
Lina and her gang immediately ran off, still clutching their phones with the video. But Yeager had already seen their faces.
He stared at the pool, then turned to his sister.
"Are you okay?"
Zevanya nodded weakly, still shivering.
Yeager clenched his jaw.
"They've gone too far…"
His face darkened with fury. This wasn't just some random bullying anymore.
They touched his blood.
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was calm. Ariana sat quietly at her desk, reading a book—serene as always, the type who never meddled in anyone's business. Zico Palma lounged on the windowsill, a lollipop in his mouth, eyes lazily watching the schoolyard below.
Suddenly, the classroom door burst open.
Everyone turned their heads.
Yeager stood in the doorway—soaking wet from head to toe. His shirt clung to his body, and water dripped from his hair, splashing onto the classroom floor. His breath was heavy, but his eyes were sharp—like a cold bullet ready to strike.
Without saying a word, he walked straight to Lina's desk. She and her friends were mid-laugh, but the moment they saw him, silence dropped like a hammer.
Yeager stopped right in front of Lina and leaned in slightly, locking eyes with her.
"You think this is funny?" he said in a low, icy voice.
Lina looked startled. Her friends exchanged nervous glances.
"Shoving someone into the pool, filming it, laughing like it's a damn circus? Do you even know who you messed with?"
Lina didn't answer. Her face had turned pale.
Yeager moved even closer, and though his next words were spoken quietly, the whole class could hear the weight behind them.
"I'll make sure you regret it. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts."
Then, without another word, Yeager walked over to Zevanya's desk, grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the classroom—each step leaving wet footprints behind.
Zico narrowed his eyes, watching Yeager leave. Ariana glanced up too, surprised at the sharp intensity in Yeager's expression.
The whole class was frozen. For the first time, they all realized:
This "new kid" was definitely not just another student.
That afternoon, the drizzle hadn't stopped yet. Yeager stood in the parking lot, his clothes still damp. Beside him, Noel held a backpack with a worried look. Zevanya arrived, pushing her motorbike toward them.
Yeager turned to her and asked quietly, "You sure you can ride like that? You're still soaked."
Zevanya gave a confident smirk. "Relax. I can still ride. It's just water, not like I'm paralyzed."
Yeager gave a small smile, then helped Noel get his helmet on. They were ready to head home.
Yeager rode with Noel on his Vespa, and Zevanya followed closely behind. But not long after they left the school…
Inside a sleek black car, Zico Palma lounged in the back seat, his eyes locked on the road ahead.
"Driver, follow them," he said calmly, voice low but firm.
Beside him, Fayo Nickle lifted one side of his headphones and grumbled, "Seriously? We're following them now? This feels like some cheap soap opera."
Zico didn't respond. His eyes narrowed, fixed on Yeager's motorbike. Something about the new guy felt off—especially after what happened earlier that day.
Meanwhile, from a distance, another figure was keeping watch— Darren, disguised as a delivery courier on a motorbike. He noticed Zico's car tailing the siblings and immediately moved into action.
On the Vespa, Yeager checked the side mirror. He spotted the car following them. With a subtle hand gesture—two fingers up, then waving left—he signaled Zevanya.
She understood. They'd split up.
Yeager veered to the right, and Zevanya turned left. Zico's car hesitated for a moment before choosing to continue following Yeager. But then—
CRASH!
A courier motorbike suddenly cut in front of the car, forcing it to a screeching stop. Darren jumped off his bike, pretending to be furious.
"Hey! You scratched my bike! You know how expensive this is?" he shouted at the driver.
The driver looked confused. Zico's eyes narrowed at Darren, starting to grow suspicious.
"Just push him aside," Zico muttered to the driver.
But Darren stood his ground, getting louder and more persistent.
Fayo sighed, "This is nuts… We're definitely being messed with."
Meanwhile, Yeager and Noel had already slipped far ahead, now free of the car's surveillance. Zevanya had also looped around the block, planning to meet them later from a different route.
Yeager's plan had worked. But Zico? He wasn't the kind to let things go easily.
Darren stood firmly in front of Zico's car, his expression shifting from fake irritation to genuine anger. He pointed to the scratched bumper of his motorbike.
"You think this is a game, huh? This is a rental! If you don't pay for the damage, I'm taking this straight to the police," he snapped, loud enough to catch the attention of people nearby.
Zico Palma, who had been lounging in the back seat, looked visibly annoyed. He opened the car door and stepped out, eyes cold and calculating.
"How much do you want?" he asked, voice low but sharp.
Darren narrowed his eyes, studying Zico carefully. "It's not about money, bro. It's about responsibility. Or do rich kids get to do whatever they want on the road too?"
The driver tried to deescalate, "Sorry, sir. It was our fault. We'll pay for the damages. Please don't make a scene."
Fayo Nickle peeked out from the car window, visibly annoyed. "Zico, just let it go. He's just some loudmouth. Let's take another route."
Zico glanced once more at Darren. Something felt off—the look in Darren's eyes, the sharpness behind them. Way too alert for a simple delivery guy.
He took a step closer, as if trying to read Darren more clearly. But Darren didn't flinch. He picked up his helmet and walked to his bike, still grumbling.
"Next time you drive, try not to act like you're chasing ghosts."
Without waiting for a reply, Darren got on his bike and sped off. Just before turning the corner, he glanced back through his side mirror—with a slight smirk that said one thing:
"I know more than you think."
Zico stood still. In his silence, suspicion began to grow.
Fayo turned to him, "We heading back?"
Zico nodded slowly. "Yeah. I need to ask someone about that new guy."
Meanwhile, Darren tapped a small earpiece in his ear as he rode off.
"Target's safe. They failed to follow. Zico's getting suspicious, but he doesn't know who I am yet."
Valerie's voice came through, cold and steady, "Good. Stay close to Noel and Zevanya. We can't afford to let anything happen to them."
That night, the silent war continued... and the chessboard was finally taking shape.
That night, a light rain fell over the city. Streetlights reflected off puddles on the road, casting ghostlike shadows that flickered with each passing car. Yeager, dressed in a black button-up shirt, walked into the quiet police station. His hair was slightly damp from the drizzle, and his expression was sharp—focused.
Inside, Valerie stood near the investigation board, staring at pinned documents and photographs. She turned slowly when she heard the door open. Her eyes met Yeager's, holding his gaze for a moment—silent, as if trying to read his thoughts.
Yeager walked in without a word and stopped near the long desk stacked with case files.
Suddenly, Darren cut through the silence, tossing a file onto the table. "We don't have time for stares. I know you've got questions, but let's focus. This is about Anne."
Valerie took a deep breath, looking away from Yeager, and opened the folder.
"The latest autopsy confirms it," Darren said. "Anne was strangled. But what's strange… old scars on her wrists. Like she was tied up at some point."
Yeager narrowed his eyes. "A captive?"
Valerie gave a slow nod. "Possibly… or held somewhere against her will. But this isn't just a simple murder. We dug deeper—Anne had been investigating Patrick Baldwin, Jinny's father. And that leads us to..."
Darren cut in, "...the school's power structure. Elite funding, dark money, and some big names. Including Edrick Muro."
Yeager frowned. "Then why was the case handed to another division?"
Valerie looked at him coldly. "Because we're getting too close to the core. They're afraid."
Yeager looked at the evidence board—photos of Jinny, Anne, Patrick Baldwin, Zico, Raon... all seemingly connected. The question wasn't if there was a conspiracy.
"Who's pulling the strings?"
Silence fell over the room until Darren quietly said, "We have to work off the grid now. If we want the truth... we can't wait for permission."
Yeager stared at the board for a long moment, then muttered under his breath, "Then we tear the system down."
The night grew darker, but the real battle had just begun.
After the heated discussion, Darren patted Yeager on the shoulder while leaning back in his chair. "It's late... we need a break. Come on, let's get a drink. My treat."
Yeager nodded briefly. "I'll step out for a bit, grab something," he said, adjusting the collar of his still slightly damp black shirt.
He walked out of the police station, the pavement glistening from a light drizzle. A liquor store's neon sign glowed at the corner. Yeager stepped inside, head low, and grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the fridge.
As he placed it on the counter, the bell above the door jingled softly.
Ariana.
Wearing a long coat and her hair tied back loosely, she walked in with a bottle of soda in hand. Her expression was neutral—until she saw who was standing beside her.
She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the bottle of alcohol Yeager had just put down.
Yeager glanced at her quickly, caught off guard. "Funny running into you."
Ariana stared briefly, then glanced again at the alcohol. "You... drink?"
Yeager paused, then spoke quietly. "Not really about liking it. Sometimes… you just need it." His tone was calm, but his eyes held something deeper—exhaustion, maybe even pain.
Ariana paid for her soda without another word. After getting her change, she turned slightly toward him. "Don't get drunk. Someone like you... needs to stay sharp."
And just like that, she walked out, never looking back.
Yeager stood still for a moment longer, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "She's sharper than she lets on…"
The alcohol in his hand felt cold, but it wasn't the bottle that sent a chill through him. That brief encounter—it made one thing clear:
Ariana knows more than she shows.
Elsewhere, in the classic-style mansion belonging to Edrick Muro, the atmosphere was quiet and dignified. The walls of the study were lined with shelves of law books, plaques, and old photographs—evidence of the family's prestigious reputation in the nation's legal circles.
Inside a spacious bedroom, Raon Muro sat at his study desk. Books were scattered around, some opened with small sticky notes marking important pages. He appeared focused, writing something carefully on a piece of paper in neat, organized handwriting.
But his eyes occasionally drifted away, unfocused. He glanced at his phone screen—still lit with an open group chat where he communicated with Zico and Fayo. No new messages. Still, the expression on his face showed unease.
The door creaked slightly open. Heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the hallway. Edrick Muro stepped inside, wearing a dark housecoat.
"Father," Raon greeted quickly, sitting up straighter.
Edrick walked in slowly, standing behind him. His sharp gaze swept over the desk and the open books before settling on Raon.
"Studying for next week's debate?" he asked in a calm but firm tone.
Raon nodded. "Yes. I need to do well. Everyone will be watching."
Edrick looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Protect the family name. Don't let anyone stain it… even if it's one of your friends." His words were low, but carried weight.
"I understand," Raon said, nodding.
Just before leaving, Edrick paused at the doorway. "And about that boy—Yeager. I've heard things. Be careful, Raon. He's not just another new student."
Raon didn't answer. He watched as his father exited and the door clicked shut.
Then, slowly, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small black flash drive. He stared at it in silence.
"If this ever gets exposed… everything falls apart," he whispered.
The desk lamp cast a warm glow on his face—one now filled with tension. Raon Muro, the quiet genius, was hiding something far more dangerous than anyone at school could imagine.
Raon kept staring at the small black flash drive, his eyes sharp and unreadable. His fingers clenched tightly around it, as if the tiny object carried the weight of something far heavier.
Slowly, he stood and walked toward the window of his room, which overlooked the garden behind the house. There, a small incinerator used by his father for burning sensitive documents waited quietly.
He opened the lid, lit a match, and looked at the flash drive one last time.
"This isn't my fault," he muttered under his breath, barely audible. "I'm just one of the pieces… everything was set in motion from within the school's own network."
Raon tossed the flash drive into the flame.
The plastic casing hissed as it melted, the fire growing brighter, devouring the data within.
A faint smile formed on his lips. His gaze hardened.
"I'm only surviving in this rotten system. If I weren't smart enough, I would've ended up like Jinny," he whispered.
The cool night wind drifted through the window, carrying the scent of melting plastic. But for Raon, the night felt oddly lighter—as if part of his burden had been erased, even though shadows of it still lingered.
Deep down, he knew… sooner or later, the past would return. And Yeager—the stranger embedded in the school—was getting far too close to the truth.