Ruz's POV
After school, Adrian and I went straight to Cruz Corporation.
Unfortunately.
Audit season had arrived.
The entire building looked like a war zone where the only weapon was despair. Employees shuffled past carrying folders like obituaries. One woman walked into a wall, apologized to the wall and kept going.
I respected that level of suffering.
"Audit brings out the best in people," Adrian said.
I watched a man drink his fifth coffee in twelve minutes. His left eye was twitching in Morse code. I think it spelled help.
"That man has seen things," I said.
"The things are spreadsheets."
"Spreadsheets shouldn't have that power."
"And yet."
We reached Kuya's cabin. He sat behind a mountain of paperwork tall enough to require a climbing permit. Receipts, financial statements, supporting documents, an entire forest murdered and rearranged by tax code.
Without looking up, he pointed at two chairs.
"Sit."
No hello. No welcome. Just the cold voice of a man who hadn't slept since the Reagan administration.
I dropped into a chair. "What are we doing?"
"Checking audit files."
"That's the worst sentence I've ever heard."
"Open the folder."
I opened the folder.
Inside: approximately seven hundred years of human suffering, bound and laminated.
Adrian looked over my shoulder. "Oh."
"What?"
"That's a lot."
"I know."
"That's concerning."
"I KNOW."
Kuya finally looked up. "Less talking. More checking."
"We're students."
"You're literate."
"That's not the same thing."
"Today it is."
One hour in. I was reviewing expense reports. The numbers had started merging into a single giant monster that whispered my name in Excel formulas.
Then,
"Found something."
Kuya looked up so fast I heard his neck crack. "What?"
I held up a receipt like a detective presenting a smoking gun. "This employee bought seventeen pens."
Silence.
Adrian leaned over. "Seventeen?"
"Seventeen."
Kuya took the paper. Read it. Paused. His eye twitched but not the caffeine kind. I've raised an idiot, kind.
"That's the office supply department."
"Oh."
I sat back. "Then I've discovered nothing."
"You've discovered pens."
"An important contribution."
"It wasn't."
Five minutes later I slammed my hand on the desk. "I found another suspicious transaction."
Kuya didn't even flinch. "Ruz."
"This one is real."
"What is it?"
I pointed dramatically. "Three hundred dollars. Spent on motivational posters."
Adrian blinked. "What kind of motivation costs three hundred dollars?"
Kuya rubbed his forehead like he was massaging a tumor. "They ordered thirty posters."
I deflated. "Fine."
Then I paused.
"...Actually that's worse. Who needs thirty motivational posters? How unmotivated is this department? Are they okay? Do we need to intervene?"
Kuya stared at me. "Keep checking."
"I'm emotionally invested now."
"Uninvest."
"Too late."
Across the desk, Adrian was comparing invoices. Or pretending to. His eyes had that glassy look people get right before they ascend to a higher plane of existence.
"You missed a number."
He looked down. "...Oh."
I smirked. "Caught lacking."
"It was one digit."
"That's how math works."
"It was a typo."
"It was a weakness."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
"I absolutely don't."
In the middle of our argument, the door suddenly opened.
I didn't look. I already knew. That specific click of polished loafers.
That faint scent of expensive cologne and restrained smugness.
Roy.
Of course.
Audit season apparently attracted him like a migrating bird drawn to human suffering.
"Still working?" he asked.
I considered several responses. Most were illegal in four countries.
"We're surviving," I said.
Roy stepped inside. Calm. Polite. Perfect posture. Perfect smile. Perfect everything. Honestly, that made him even more suspicious.
Roy moved beside Kuya and started reviewing files. "These supporting documents should be organized separately. The current grouping creates reconciliation risk."
Kuya nodded immediately. "Agreed."
I didn't like that. They agreed too fast. Like a corporate hive mind. Like they shared a single brain cell that only knew accounting terms.
"Ruz."
I looked up. Kuya was staring.
"Focus."
"I am focused."
"No, you're glaring."
"I can multitask."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
I rolled my eyes.
"Fine."
Adrian leaned closer to me. Voice low. "You don't trust him."
I continued typing. "I tolerate him."
"That's not what I said."
"It's the same thing."
"No, it isn't."
I sighed. Dropped my voice to a whisper. "Last time he was here, confidential files got leaked."
Adrian froze. "...And?"
"And I put itching powder in his suit."
Silence. Even the air conditioner seemed to stop running.
"You WHAT?"
"He deserved it."
"You had no proof."
"I had instincts."
"Your instincts are criminal."
"They're innovative."
"They belong on a watchlist."
Across the room, Roy looked over. "What are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing," Adrian said immediately.
"Internal affairs," I added.
Roy wisely decided not to ask.
Three hours later,
The audit files were finally finished.
Kuya closed the last folder with the kind of finality usually reserved for funeral services. The room collectively regained the will to live. Somewhere, a printer stopped crying.
"Good work."
I sat up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. "Say that again."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"With feeling."
"No."
Adrian nodded. "That was pretty cold."
Kuya pointed at him. "You contributed one useful comment all afternoon."
"It was a very useful comment."
"It was 'this calculator looks expensive.'"
"It did look expensive. That thing had buttons I've never seen. Scientific notation. Regret. Probably a self destruct feature."
Roy laughed softly. The sound was polished, measured, practiced. "I think today went well."
There it was again. That calm corporate voice. Like he rehearsed professionalism in front of a mirror while wearing a tie to bed.
I tilted my head. "Do you ever speak normally?"
Roy blinked. "I believe I do."
"No, that's exactly what I mean. That response. Who talks like that? You talk like a LinkedIn post came to life."
Adrian immediately looked away to hide his laugh. His shoulders shook.
Roy gathered his documents. "I'll review everything again tonight."
"Please don't."
Everyone looked at me.
Roy frowned slightly. "Why?"
"Because last time you reviewed something, we discovered six new problems. You're like a cursed artifact. A handsome, well dressed cursed artifact."
Adrian nodded. "Last time she almost entered a villain origin story."
"I did."
"You threatened a printer."
"It started first. It looked at me wrong. Paper jams are a choice, Adrian. A choice."
Kuya stood. "We're done."
Finally, Freedom. My soul slowly crawled back into my body.
Later, in the car,
The silence lasted exactly thirty seconds.
Then Kuya spoke. "What you did to Roy was unacceptable."
I crossed my arms. "There it is."
"Ruz."
"I regret nothing."
"You should."
"He was suspicious."
"That's not evidence."
"It is in my heart."
"Your heart isn't a legal authority."
"It should be. I'd be a very fair judge. Guilty until proven interesting."
Adrian snorted from the back seat. "I'd watch that court."
I pointed at him without looking. "See? He understands."
"He absolutely does not. He just likes chaos."
"A valid reason."
Kuya sighed. The long suffering sigh of a man burdened by two idiots and a controlling interest in a multinational corporation.
"If something feels wrong, you investigate."
"Exactly."
"You don't attack people."
"Depends."
"No."
"Fine. Mostly no."
"No."
I crossed my arms tighter. "I still don't trust him."
"You don't trust anyone."
"I trust you."
A pause.
"...That's different."
For a second, Kuya looked caught off guard. His ears went slightly pink. Then he looked away, jaw tight.
"You're impossible."
I grinned. "You love me."
"I tolerate you."
I gasped, one hand over my heart. "Betrayal. In this family? On this day?"
Adrian laughed so hard he almost choked. He wheezed in the back seat like an asthmatic goose.
Kuya stared out the window. "I need a raise."
"You own the company."
"Then I need a vacation."
"Take us with you."
"No."
"See?" I said proudly. "Family bonding."
"I hate audit season."
"That's the nicest thing you've said all day."
And for the first time since entering Cruz Corporation…
Kuya actually laughed.
It was short. It was rough. It sounded like it hurt.
But it was real.
I counted it as a win.
Adrian wiped his eyes. "Can we get food? I feel like I've aged three years."
"You have," Kuya said. "Audit does that."
"I'm nineteen going on sixty."
"Welcome to the family business."
I leaned back, smug and exhausted. "I love it here."
Neither of them believed me.
I didn't care.
The car pulled out of the parking lot, and behind us, Cruz Corporation stood tall, fluorescent lights still burning in every window.
The Next Morning,
Monterrazas looked the same as it always did in the morning light.
Perfect. Clean. Fake.
The gates stood open, the gardens were immaculate, and the students moved through the halls like they had been doing this their whole lives. Which, for most of them, they had.
I walked in alone, my bag over my shoulder, my expression neutral. Quiet. Focused.
Liam had texted me something about being late, like oversleeping, killing me, saving me a seat, so I was on my own for the morning walk to class.
I turned the corner near the staircase.
And stopped.
Rifat leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He was waiting. He had made a habit of it over the past few days, appearing in hallways I walked through, standing at gates I passed, turning up in places where he had no business being.
"…You again," I said.
"You again," he replied.
I crossed my arms over my chest, mirroring his posture without thinking about it. "You do not get tired?" I asked.
"I do not get tired when I am interested," he said.
"That sounds like a problem," I said.
"For who?" he asked.
"For you," I said.
He stepped closer, but not enough to invade my space. Just enough to make a point. Just enough to remind me that he was not afraid of getting close.
"You think you are always right," he said.
"I usually am," I said.
"That is confidence," he said.
"That is accuracy," I replied.
He let out a quiet breath, almost amused, though his expression barely changed.
"You do not avoid fights," he said.
"I do not start them either," I said.
"You escalate them," he said.
"Only when necessary," I said.
A pause.
Then,
"You like control," he said.
"You like testing limits," I replied.
Our eyes locked, still and sharp, two people who recognized something familiar in each other and were not sure whether to be relieved or alarmed by it.
"What are you hiding?" he asked, his voice lower now.
I stepped closer this time, mirroring his movement, refusing to give ground.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"Truth," he said.
"Wrong place," I said.
Students nearby slowed down as they passed, their eyes flickering toward us, their steps hesitating like they wanted to watch but did not want to be caught watching.
Then Liam arrived, skidding around the corner with the grace of a newborn deer.
He took one look at us, the distance between us, the tension in the air, the way neither of us was blinking and his face crumpled.
"…Oh. No" he said. "Not again. It is too early for this. I have not even had breakfast."
Rifat ignored him completely. His eyes stayed on me.
"You will break eventually," he said quietly.
That one almost landed. Almost. The words pressed against something soft inside me, something I did not like to acknowledge.
But almost was not enough.
I did not move. Did not react. Did not give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
"…Then watch carefully," I said.
I stepped past him, my shoulder brushing against his arm as I went. Intentional. Deliberate. A reminder that I was not afraid of him.
Liam rushed to my side, his eyes wide, his voice a frantic whisper.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" he hissed.
"Conversation," I said.
"THAT WAS WAR," he insisted.
"You exaggerate," I said.
"You two looked at each other like you were calculating how long it would take to hide a body!"
I did not answer that.
Author POV
Behind them,Rifat did not move.
He stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, his arms still crossed, his eyes still on the space where Ruz had been standing.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. Not wide. Not loud. Just there, at the corner of his mouth, small and certain.
"That is going to change," he said quietly, to himself.
She did not look back. Not this time.
But her voice carried anyway, soft and certain.
"…We will see," I said.
Liam and I were walking to class when he suddenly stopped behind me. I didn't notice until I'd taken two more steps. Turning back, I frowned.
"Why'd you stop?"
He stepped forward slightly and pointed ahead. A group of five, two boys, three girls stood in the middle of the hallway, talking loudly like they owned the place.
"They're back."
"Who?"
"Section Z."
I looked at them again.
Then someone bumped into Liam. An accident, maybe. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat.
Our eyes met.
Zayn?
Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.
You? Here?
I raised an eyebrow.
Weren't you supposed to be somewhere else?
His lips twitched.
Nice to meet you too.
I rolled my eyes.
Hell to meet you.
A small smirk appeared on both our faces, like we already knew,
This year was going to be a disaster.
Then he turned and walked back to his group, calm and cold, just like he used to be before the person we lost.
Liam groaned dramatically. "Oh no. That was Zayn. One of the Section Z."
We started walking again.
"You know," Liam continued, "when he first came to Monterrazas, he was in Section A. But then he fought with someone. It became a huge mess, and after that, he got transferred to Section Z."
We entered our classroom.
During lunch break, Liam, Rifat, and I headed toward the cafeteria. I was busy arguing with Rifat while Marco, Diego, and Adrian walked behind us.
Marco shouted, "Hoy, Miss Gulo! Wait for us!"
I completely ignored him.
Meanwhile, Zayn and his group stood in line for food. Our eyes met again. He was clearly trying not to laugh after hearing my nickname.
The moment I noticed, I turned and gave Marco a death glare.
"Call me that name again and I'll kill you."
Marco instantly raised both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I give up!"
We grabbed our food and sat down together, stealing fries and snacks from each other's trays while talking nonsense.
Then I noticed him again.
Zayn was staring at me like I was some criminal and he was on a secret mission to expose me.
I rolled my eyes and focused back on my food.
Obviously, food comes first.
After lunch, everyone headed back to their classes. Liam went toward Section C while the rest of returned to Section A.
I was coming back from the restroom when I spotted Zayn standing alone near the staircase, talking on the phone.
And blushing.
Actually smiling.
I paused for a second.
Interesting.
But I decided not to interrupt him. If I ruined his moment, he'd probably murder me this time.
So I quietly walked back to my classroom instead.
The next morning did not start quietly.
It never did at Monterrazas. The hallways buzzed with the usual chaos of students arriving, lockers slamming, voices overlapping in a hundred different conversations.
But this morning was different.
Louder. Sharper. More electric.
Students clustered in groups, their phones out, their voices rising and falling with excitement. Something had happened. Something had changed. Everyone was talking about it, but no one seemed to have the full story.
I noticed it immediately, not the noise, but the energy underneath it. Charged. Restless. Like everyone was waiting for something to start.
I stepped into the hallway, and Liam was already there, talking too fast, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained something to a group of students who were not really listening.
"I am telling you, this is going to be insane…."
He stopped when he saw me, his face lighting up with the particular brand of panic he reserved for moments of genuine stress.
"There you are," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward our classmates. "Where have you been? Did you not check your phone? Did you not see the messages? There are 47 messages in the group chat, and 46 of them are just screaming."
"Why does everyone look like they have drunk ten cups of coffee?" I asked, looking around at the wired faces of my classmates.
Liam grinned, though it was more of a grimace. "Because we basically have. Information is better than caffeine. News travels faster than anything in this school."
"Get to the point," I said.
Before he could answer, Adrian walked in. Calm. Composed. Unreadable. But his eyes flicked to me for just a second, and something in his expression told me he already knew whatever was about to be announced.
Then the bell rang, and right after, the speaker crackled to life.
A sharp, clear voice filled the room, cutting through the noise like a blade.
"Attention, students of Monterrazas Academy."
Instant silence. Even the students in the back row, the ones who usually spent homeroom rearranging their schedules on their phones, stopped what they were doing and looked up.
"Starting today, we officially begin our annual 6 Day Inter Section Event Festival."
A ripple moved through the class excitement, curiosity, the kind of energy that came from competition and the promise of chaos.
"Each section will compete in a series of events designed to test not only skill"
A pause. Deliberate. Dramatic.
"but teamwork, strategy, and discipline."
Liam leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Translation: chaos. Beautiful, glorious, absolute chaos."
I ignored him.
"The sections are as follows: Section A, Section B, Section C, Section D, Section E, and Section Z."
Murmurs grew louder. Students turned to look at each other, already calculating rivals, strengths and weaknesses. The competitive energy in the room multiplied by the second.
"The events will include academic challenges, strategy based games, sports competitions, team battles, and special elimination rounds."
Now the class was fully awake. Even the students who had been half asleep five minutes ago were sitting up straight, their eyes bright with interest.
"Each day will focus on different categories. Winning sections will earn points. Losing sections will not."
A subtle threat wrapped in pleasant words.
"At the end of Day 6, the top section will be declared the overall champion of Monterrazas Academy."
Silence. Heavy. Meaningful. Everyone was thinking the same thing, not just winning, but what winning would mean. Bragging rights for the rest of the year. Respect. Reputation.
"Prepare yourselves," the principal said.
The speaker clicked off.
And just like that, the hall exploded.
"WE ARE WINNING THIS."
"NO WAY, SECTION B IS STACKED THIS YEAR."
"C TEAM HAS THE BEST STRATEGY"
"D TEAM DOMINATES SPORTS"
Voices everywhere, overlapping and competing, each one louder than the last.
Liam turned to me dramatically, his hands clutching his chest, like he was having a heart attack.
"We are doomed," he announced. "Completely and utterly doomed. I have seen the other sections. They have athletes. They have geniuses. They have people who can run without getting winded after thirty seconds."
"We just started," I said.
"Exactly," he said. "That is what I am worried about. The beginning is where everything goes wrong."
Adrian stood with his friends watching the chaos with the calm detachment of someone who had seen this before and knew exactly how it would play out. His arms were crossed, his expression thoughtful.
"Day one will be games," he said.
I glanced at him. "You sound sure."
"They always start light," he said. "Strategy games. Team building exercises. Things that look harmless but actually separate the people who think from the people who just react."
A beat.
a voice cut through the noise. Cold. Familiar. Impossible to ignore.
"Good."
Everyone turned slightly.
Rifat walk toward us with his usual
expression unreadable. But his eyes, his eyes were locked on me.
"I was getting bored," he said.
The tension snapped back into place, sharp and immediate.
Liam leaned toward me, his voice barely audible. "Why does everything turn into a battlefield around you? Why can we not just have one normal day?"
I did not answer.
My eyes moved from Rifat to Adrian and back again.
"Six days," I said quietly.
A small pause.
"That is enough," I said.
Adrian smirked faintly, understanding what I meant.
Rifat smiled slowly, and his smile meant something different entirely.
But they both reached the same conclusion.
This was not just an event anymore.
This was war.