X01: MY PERFECTLY ABNORMAL LIFE

CRACKS

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life

Dain didn't mention the storage room again.

That was what made it work.

The next two weeks were the best weeks Xyan had had in two years. Dain acted like the "no" had never happened — if anything, he was closer.

He started bringing Xyan breakfast before early conditioning — a warm bun wrapped in a napkin. "You run better when you're not starving, Cross."

He helped Xyan re-tape his glasses properly, his hands careful. "There. Now you look like 3%, not 2%."

In Phantom Theory, when Prof. Liora asked a hard question about Grade Two pack behavior, Dain whispered, "You know this," and Xyan answered — correctly — and the whole remedial row stared.

It felt normal. It felt safe.

That's when Dain tried the new angle.

It was after dinner, dorm hallway. Dain leaned against Xyan's doorframe, casual, holding his data-slate.

"Hey, quick favor? Even more harmless than the last one, I promise."

Xyan smiled, wary but warm. "What now?"

"My slate's glitching and I have to submit Harlow's resonance essay by midnight or he fails me. Can I just borrow _yours_ for ten minutes to upload from the library terminal? Mine won't connect to the college net."

He held it up — screen flickering. It looked legitimately broken.

"That's it?" Xyan asked.

"That's it. You can watch me do it. I'll give it right back. I just don't want Harlow's bald head exploding on me tomorrow."

Xyan hesitated — but this wasn't swiping into a sealed room. This was... borrowing a slate. Everyone did it.

"Okay," he said, handing it over. "Ten minutes."

"You're a legend," Dain grinned, already walking away. "Wait here, I'll be right back!"

Xyan waited. Ten minutes became twenty. Thirty.

Dain came back at minute thirty-four, out of breath, slate in hand. "Done! You're the best. Harlow's gonna weep at my beautiful essay."

Xyan took his slate back, didn't think to check the logs.

He didn't know Dain hadn't gone to the library at all.

He'd gone to the east wing service corridor — to the exact spot where Xyan mopped every night — and used Xyan's logged-in slate to ping the sealed storage door's access panel. Not to open it. Just to query it. Just enough to leave a digital footprint: Xyan Cross's device attempted access to restricted area at 21:47.

A harmless favor.

Dain's piercing blue eyes scanned downward at Xyan's relieved smile, as if considering how easy it was.

Stage two complete, he thought.

He bumped Xyan's fist. "Thanks, brother."

Xyan smiled back, completely unaware he'd just handed the devil the first piece of evidence.

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life

Dain got smarter.

He stopped asking for favors. He just collected.

Little things. A photo of Xyan's slate left unlocked on a cafeteria table. A short video of Xyan sneaking an extra roll for him — "for the memories, bro." A timestamp when Xyan said, "Yeah, I mop the east wing Tuesdays and Thursdays, it's quiet."

Xyan noticed none of it. He was too busy feeling like he finally had someone.

---

Kitarah was still at school, still not going home.

She'd taken to dawn practice like punishment. 5 AM, empty field, ring-blades screaming. Her hands were raw, her uniform soaked.

Onix found her there one morning , Echelon jacket half-zipped revealing her hidden figure, holding two baby pink lunch kits.

She came back a week ago but decided not to go out.

"You look like death," Onix said bluntly, holding one out.

Kitarah caught her blade mid-spin, breathing hard. "I'm fine."

"You've been 'fine' for three weeks." Onix sat on the grass, utterly unbothered by the cold. " Sources told me about your dad. Well, he told Sen, Sen told me by accident because Sen can't lie."

Kitarah's grip tightened. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." Onix took a huge bite. "Then just eat. You fight better when you're not running on spite."

Against her will, Kitarah almost smiled. She took the bun.

They sat in silence while the sun came up. Two beginners at the top of the food chain, both pretending they weren't lonely.

"That black card," Onix said suddenly. "You still have it?"

Kitarah touched her pocket. "Yeah."

"Bring it to lunch sometime. Gaiz wants to see it. He thinks it's a myth."

Kitarah nodded, and for a second, the suffocated feeling eased.

---

Onix, meanwhile, was thriving and chaos in equal measure.

She'd started a betting ring in the beginner dorms — not for money, for snacks. Who could make Kitarah laugh first. Who could get Sen to say more than five words in a row. Gaiz was currently losing badly.

She was also still sneaking food to the training beasts, which was how she ran into Xyan one night near the east wing.

"Cross!" she whisper-yelled, crouched by a vent with a meat bun. "You mop here, right? Is the coast clear?"

Xyan, bucket in hand, just stared. "Onix? What are you—"

"Shh! I'm feeding Greg."

"Who's Greg?"

"The vent gremlin. Don't tell Harlow."

She shoved the bun in and ran off, Echelon jacket flapping. Xyan stood there, confused and oddly fond.

Dain, watching from the corner with his slate recording, smiled. Xyan Cross, out of bounds after hours, talking to Onix near restricted vents.

Another piece.

Dain's file was getting thick: the chip, the slate ping, the stolen roll photo, the late-night wanderings Xyan mentioned.

Not the real trap yet. Just poison, drop by drop.

His piercing blue eyes scanned downward at his growing collection that night in his dorm, as if considering when it would be enough.

Soon.

And it was gonna hit hard...

He threw a dart on the wall.