Page 43 of Black Castle

Her mind latches onto his question instantly. Why did he suddenly ask such a question? Is he hinting at something? Is she missing something? Should she prod or just brush it off?

She feels a sudden shadow hovering behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she catches Kenji peering at her phone’s screen from behind.

“What are you doing?” She throws him an accusing glare, turning off the screen and slipping the phone into her blazer’s pocket.

“Nothing.” He moves to lean on the railing beside her. “I just think you’re going too fast with this thing.”

“Fast as in?” she quirks a brow, ready to defend her heart’s reckless actions.

“You are latching onto him too fast. It’s like you already see yourself settling down with him or something,” Kenji adds.

“You’re acting like this is the first time you have met me,” she scoffs, tucking a loose strand behind her ear before leaning against the railing, her arms folded on the horizontal bar, chin resting on it. “I’m quite unfortunate. Opportunity to be happy hardly dangle themselves in front of unfortunate people. So when I see something that looks a lot like an opportunity to be happy, I latch onto it like it’s my lifeline.”

She takes in a shaky breath, a warmth spreading in her chest as the image of fiery amber eyes dance behind her lids, and as if the wind brought him to her, she can almost perceive it, his scent lingering in the air.

“I love talking to him. Gosh, you should see how I forget Isadora is in the next room and dad is in prison whenever his name appears on my screen.” She turns her head, her cheek resting on her arm now as she peers at Kenji. “He makes me happy even without knowing it. And I just want to be happy, you know.”

“I know.” Kenji’s voice is low yet steady. “And that’s why I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work out? What if he turns out to be something else?”

The questions make her stomach lurch. “Then I’ll take it and move on as usual.”

“You’ll be sad.”

She shrugs, a wry smile lifting the curve of her lips. “Well, I know sadness more than I know happiness.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine, Kenji Sato,” she beams, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m a big girl.”

Truly, she’ll be fine, like she always has been. What’s the worst that can happen? He decides to settle for friendship, or they get into a relationship and he breaks her heart by leaving. It’ll be a pain she can bear. Her heart and body have been nurtured to handle the savagery of love and life.

She’ll be fine.

Oh, she’ll be just fine. Because it is her against fate. And in this battle, Vivienne has decided she will win.

The bell for the next class chimes, cutting through the wispy air.

They both push off the terrace as Kenji glances at his watch.

“What do we have next?” Kenji asks, giving her his arm.

Vivienne hooks her arm through his, their sides pressing against each other. “Introductory Psychology.”

They exit the terrace through a winding staircase and emerge in a hallway a few seconds later. The said hallway buzzes with students—feet shuffling, papers and bags rustling, chatters drifting through the still air as everyone tries to figure out where they belong for the next hour.

When they step into their classroom, it is already filled in with their classmates. Some perched on their desk, some leaning over the window, writing Greek on the board, while some are zeroed on their screens.

“I heard Mr. Walsh left,” a student says as soon as Kenji and Vivienne plop on their seats. They glance behind at the person that made the comment, then turn to each other to share a clueless look.

Mr. Nicolai Walsh is their Introductory Psychology teacher. If they are right that he has left, then Vivienne wonders why he suddenly left. She hopes he’s okay, because she truly loves his class.

After her father’s case, she became obsessed with the study of Human Psychology. She was the happiest when the subject suddenly was introduced last summer.

She felt like part of her needed to understand what had driven her dad to do the things he did—if he did it. And what could’ve broken inside him? The other part was just desperate to know if the same flaw runs inside her veins too. Because after the trial, Isadora Rivera had dragged her to some doctor she barely remembers. A man with a cold hand and an even colder gaze. They had strapped her to some weird machine, made her sit still as some strange scan mapped out the inside of her head.

Vivienne never saw the result. Never learned about what they had found.

But Isadora did. And something changed after that. Though it wasn’t immediate, Vivienne noticed; the way Isadora’s grip on her arm began to tighten a little too hard. The way her eyes would linger on her, watchful, weary. And then, of course, the accusations started.

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