CHAPTER NINE
With the first glance, the end began
♤♡♢♧
Seina never truly liked herself. She hated the way she felt so fragile, so fleeting, and how she could just vanish one day, leaving no trace behind.
As a child, she stood out. It was no surprise, really. Her father was an expert, a famous doctor whose addiction to alcohol was a poorly kept secret. It consumed him just as much as the emotional distance at home did, a coldness that no one dared to confront, as if everything was fine when it was anything but.
Her mother, on the other hand, was the cold perfection—beautiful, white elegance, silent, meaningless smiles, and complete emotional detachment.
This remained unchanged even when Seina came home from the university to find that her father had taken his own life.
They never spoke about it.
The subject was never broached, and the "whys" were never asked.
It was just treated as a fact, and that was when Seina felt something in her break for the first time.
She could never explain why she followed in her father's footsteps. Maybe it was the thrill of understanding the path he had walked—curious about what had led him to make the choices he did.
At medical school, she excelled. She finally found something that sparked her interest. That is, until fate decided to repeat itself.
When she learned, scientifically, how the bullet had taken her father's life, how the bullet pierced his skull and destroyed the man who, in some way, had always protected her in the mere blink of an eye, Seina decided there was nothing left to lose. Nothing had weight anymore if, and with one choice, everything could be gone.
She began to take risks, embracing a life built on unpredictability and dangerous decisions, as though she could outrun her own fear of being forgotten, of being nothing.
She craved the rush, the freedom that came with throwing caution to the wind. But deep down, she knew it was all just a distraction. She was chasing something she couldn't name, and every time she pushed herself further, the darkness in her only grew stronger.
There was a pull toward destruction—her father's legacy, a ghost haunting her, urging her to push the boundaries of what was possible, to see just how far she could go before everything crumbled.
It wasn't about self-destruction, though; it was about control. She needed to feel that she was the one steering the wheel, even if it was toward an inevitable crash.
As she sank deeper into her reckless pursuit, she realized that her path was no longer just about surviving—it was about playing the game. A game where nothing was certain, where there were no rules, no guarantees, and where the stakes were always life or death.
In a world like that, who cared about whether you were remembered? All that mattered was making it to the next moment, the next breath, the next decision, no matter how dangerous it was.
Seina was no longer afraid of being forgotten. She had become something else entirely—something far more dangerous. She was chaos incarnate, and she didn't care if the world crumbled around her, as long as she could feel something, anything, in the process.
The question wasn't whether she would survive—it was whether she wanted to.
She found beauty in the brokenness, in the unrefined mess that she had become.
It was like an art form, this ability to make others see one thing and know that underneath it all, there was a whole different reality.
People expected perfection, and she gave them a facade that would shatter the moment they looked closer. She was no longer the daughter of the brilliant doctor or the flawless, distant mother.
She was her own creation—flawed, untamed, unpredictable.
In the end, it was clear: Seina wasn't just living on the edge of disaster—she was the disaster, and she was choosing to own it, to be it, to revel in it.
And perhaps that was the most honest thing she had ever done.
***
It was a cold night on campus, one of those chilly evenings where the air cuts through your skin, and you can feel the weight of the world in your bones.
Seina sat outside, her legs drawn up to her chest, the thin fabric of her sweater doing little to keep the cold at bay. The sounds of the party inside, muffled by the walls of the building, seemed miles away. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the drugs, but everything felt distant, like she was hovering just outside her own life.
The wind whipped through her tangled hair as she exhaled, watching the clouds of smoke curl from her lips. Her thoughts were hazy, but the feeling of emptiness was sharp—like she could almost reach out and touch it.
"Shouldn't be out here in the cold like this," a voice interrupted her thoughts.
Seina turned her head, squinting against the darkness. A guy stood beside her she didn't recognize, his features sharp and calm. He wasn't dressed for the cold either—just a light jacket, the collar turned up against the wind. His eyes were focused on her, but there was no pity in them.
No judgment.
He didn't even seem surprised to see her like this, sprawled out, as if she'd given up on the night. He just stood there, watching her, as if he'd been waiting for the right moment to speak.
"You're gonna freeze to death out here, you know," he said again, his voice even, almost casual.
Seina blinked, her brain still trying to catch up. "Who are you?" she asked, a little annoyed at the intrusion. Her voice slurred slightly, a mixture of alcohol and apathy.
The guy smirked slightly, though there was no arrogance in it, just a kind of detached amusement. "Doesn't matter," he said, shrugging like the answer didn't really concern him. "But if you're looking for a name, Chishiya."
Seina narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. Something about him seemed different from the others, but she couldn't quite place it.
"Chishiya?" she repeated slowly, her mind still struggling to connect the dots. "Yeah, sure, whatever."
He chuckled, but it wasn't the usual kind of laugh she'd hear from the other guys—there was no real humor in it, more like a quiet acknowledgment of something they both understood.
"You're one of those, huh?" He gestured vaguely at her posture—slumped against the cold ground with her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes half-lidded. "Wasting your life away on some stupid shit, but you're still the most sane person here."
Seina blinked again, her gaze sharpening. She almost wanted to laugh, but she wasn't sure if it was the pills or something else that made his words sting. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he went on, his voice calm and detached, as though they were talking about the weather instead of her choices. "The rest of them—rich kids, pretentious little bastards—too busy acting like they're gods. But you... you're the most real person here, even if you're on your way to a breakdown."
Seina felt a flicker of irritation rise in her chest, but there was something else too. Curiosity, maybe. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Chishiya just shrugged, his gaze unwavering as he leaned against the wall beside her, a sense of quiet confidence in his posture. "It means, you're fucked up," he said matter-of-factly, "but at least you're not pretending to be something you're not."
She stared at him, still unsure whether she wanted to laugh or punch him in the face. It wasn't that he was wrong—it was that he knew it. And she wasn't used to people calling her out like that, especially not with such cold indifference.
"I don't need you to tell me how fucked up I am," she muttered, looking away.
"Didn't say you did," Chishiya replied easily, his tone still flat, as if everything about this situation—everything about her—was just another piece of the puzzle. "But I can tell. You've got a better sense of who you are than the others."
Seina snorted, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just trying not to drown in this shitshow of a life."
He didn't respond right away, just looked at her in that calm, unreadable way, like he was analyzing her. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again, his voice steady.
"Well, maybe you don't have to drown." He took a slow breath, then added, almost like an afterthought, "But I wouldn't blame you if you did."
For a moment, Seina couldn't quite understand what he meant by that, but the words lodged somewhere deep inside her, gnawing at her. She didn't say anything, just took another drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke cloud around her face.
She didn't know why, but there was something about him—something about his calm, his lack of judgment—that made her feel like she wasn't entirely alone in that moment.
Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the alcohol. But whatever it was, for just a brief second, she felt like someone saw her for what she was—no pity, no fake concern.
And that, she realized, was something she hadn't expected to find tonight.