Jasper caught up with him after school.

  By the time the crowd at the school gate had mostly dispersed, the sky had turned pale as if worn down by winter, and the wind blew in from the harbor, carrying a chilly, salty scent. Kieran tightened his coat and was about to walk along the route home that he knew all too well when someone slapped him hard on the shoulder.

  “Wait a minute.” Jasper's voice was not loud, but it was firm, completely different from his usual playful tone.

  Kieran stopped in his tracks, not turning around, and simply said, “I have something to do.”

  “You have something to do every day.” Jasper moved in front of him, blocking his way. He wasn't smiling today; there was a kind of frustration in his eyes that seemed to have reached its limit. “What are you really hiding from? Or who are you hiding from? You're avoiding Ivy, right?”

  Kieran's brow furrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I have no obligation to keep in touch with anyone.”

  “You can choose not to contact her, but right now you’re not ‘not contacting’ her; you are—” Jasper took a breath, as if searching for a less harsh word, but finally blurted out, “You are giving her the silent treatment.”

  Kieran's gaze instantly turned cold. “Watch your words.”

  “I’ve been careful with my words.” Jasper's voice dropped lower but became more forceful. “Do you know what state she’s in since she came back? She looks fine, and that’s the worst part. She’s holding on. She’s forcing herself to appear as someone ‘everyone feels comfortable with.’”

  Kieran's fingertips tightened in his pocket, his nails pressing against his palm. Images of Ivy's heartbroken face flashed through his mind, her voice choked with tears, and that line, "I hope you don't disappear."

  He didn't want to listen any longer.

  “So?” His tone was flat, as if he had thrown all his emotions into the fridge.

  “So you could at least act like a person.” Jasper gritted his teeth, “I don’t know what you said to her in the stairwell that day, but when she came out, her eyes were red. She still smiled and told others ‘I’m fine,’ do you understand? She told everyone she was fine, but she was willing to—”

  He stopped mid-sentence, as if suddenly realizing he had stepped on something.

  Kieran looked up at him. “Willing to do what in front of me?”

  Jasper stared at him, his expression as complicated as a tangled ball of yarn, and finally, as if he had made up his mind, he said, “She might like you.”

  Kieran's world went silent for a second.

  Not because the statement was shocking, but because it was so absurd that it felt laughable—like someone stabbing a knife into your heart and seriously asking if it hurt.

  “What are you talking about?” Kieran scoffed, “Are you still hung up on that party? You saw with your own eyes that she’s with Ronan.”

  “I don’t care who she’s with!” Jasper suddenly raised his voice, attracting the attention of a few nearby students. He immediately lowered his voice but was even angrier, “What I care about is—do you have any bottom line at all?”

  Kieran's gaze instantly sharpened. "What did you say?"

  Jasper took a deep breath, as if forcing out something that had been suppressed for a long time: "You keep saying you don't care, don't want, don't need. You act indifferent to everything. But I can see that you're not; you're just—you're just hiding yourself away, like a hedgehog, pricking anyone who gets too close. I used to think of you as a freak, but now..."

  He paused, his voice trembling: "Now that her father is dead, she needs someone. You clearly understand that feeling; you clearly— you clearly understand it the most."

  When Kieran heard the word "understand," it felt like something had struck him hard in the chest.

  Understand.

  Yes, he understood. Understood to the point that he was that very knife.

  "If you want to be a hero, go ahead," Kieran said coldly. "Don't impose your sense of morality on me."

  Jasper was taken aback. "What did you say?"

  "I said," Kieran stepped forward, closing the distance, his voice lowered to a near whisper, "don't use 'she needs someone' to manipulate me. Do you think you're caring for her? You just feel like you should do something, and then you think I should do something too, so that you feel comfortable."

  Jasper's expression looked like he had been punched, his face suddenly turning very ugly. "Do you really think I'm—doing this for my own comfort?"

  “What if not?” Kieran smiled faintly, his smile barely there, “You’re always like this. Passionate, kind, wanting to help everyone. But have you ever thought that some people don’t need to be saved? Some people—” he tightened his throat, forcing back the words “some people don’t deserve it,” and changed it to a colder version, “some people only bring harm when they get close.”

  Jasper stared at him, as if seeing him clearly for the first time: “What are you really afraid of? Ivy is not Ronan. She won't hurt you.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Kieran's gaze flickered slightly, then turned colder. “You don't understand.”

  “I don't understand!” Jasper's voice finally couldn't be contained, “So tell me! What the hell is wrong with you? Ever since the party, you've been like a different person. You were cold before, but you wouldn't—wouldn't act like this, as if other people's pain has nothing to do with you. You're not that kind of person, Kieran.”

  Kieran's heart was pounding heavily.

  Not that kind of person?

  He is.

  He always has been. It's just that Jasper is only now seeing the cracks on the surface.

  “Don't define me.” Kieran's voice was low, like a threat, “You only know the version of me that you imagine.”

  Jasper fell silent for a few seconds, his eyes actually reddening. It was as if he was forcing himself to swallow his emotions, his voice becoming hoarse: “I imagine? Then tell me, what is the real you? How bad are you? Bad enough that you can't even say 'I'm here' to someone?”

  Kieran's fingers felt cold in his pocket. He could almost feel that familiar warmth in his palm stirring—it's not about killing Jasper; Jasper is not the target; rather, it's that instinct to “cut everything off” awakening: just to make the other person shut up, just to stop this conversation, just to restore the controllable silence of the world.

  He forced himself to relax his fingertips.

  “Do you want to know?” Kieran looked up at him, his tone unnaturally calm, “Do you really want to know?”

  Jasper was taken aback, as if startled by that calmness, but still nodded, “I—I want to.”

  Kieran stared at him for a long time, then finally looked away, as if he had bitten down on some impulse.

  “Then you better not think about it.” he said.

  After saying that, he walked past Jasper.

  “Kieran! Wait!”

  Kieran stopped but did not turn around. “Don’t follow me.”

  “Why? Why do you push everyone away?” Jasper's voice came from behind him, filled with confusion and hurt, “We are friends, aren’t we? Shouldn’t friends help each other?”

  “I don’t need your help.” Kieran said coldly, “And I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “I have no sympathy for you!” Jasper finally exploded, “I just wanted to be your friend! But you? You won't even give me that chance! You lock yourself away in a place where no one can enter, and then blame others for not understanding you!”

  Kieran turned around, his gaze icy. "That's because you can never understand. You people born with a silver spoon will never know what despair is, what it means to have no choices."

  "So you use that as an excuse?" Jasper refused to back down. "Using your tragic past as a shield to keep everyone who wants to help you at bay?"

  "I don't—"

  "You do!" Jasper pointed at him. "That's exactly what you do! Ivy wants to get close to you, you push her away; I want to be your friend, you push me away too! How isolated do you want to be before you're satisfied?"

  Kieran's fists were tightly clenched, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to argue, wanted to shout back, but his throat felt like it was being choked by something, and no sound came out.

  Because Jasper was right.

  He was indeed pushing everyone away.

  But not because he wanted to isolate himself—rather, it was because he had to.

  He couldn't let anyone get close, couldn't let anyone see through him, because once he was seen through, everything would be destroyed.

  Ivy would know that he killed her father.

  Jasper would know that his longtime friend is a murderer.

  The organization would know that he is no longer a qualified tool.

  Then everyone would leave him—or worse, try to destroy him.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Kieran could only repeat this phrase in a hoarse voice, “You will never understand.”

  He turned and left, leaving a stunned Jasper standing in place.

  “Kieran—” Jasper wanted to call out to him, but Kieran had already disappeared around the corner ahead.

  *

  He wandered aimlessly through the city, eventually arriving at the seaside. The sea breeze at this time of year is very cold, cutting against his face like a knife. He sat on the breakwater, watching the gray waves crash against the shore again and again.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated several times, all messages from Jasper. But he didn’t look.

  ‘Kieran?Vale.’

  Sabrina's voice rang out on time, like some kind of surveillance he could never escape.

  ‘You didn’t go home. What happened?’

  “It’s nothing.” Kieran replied, “I just need a little space.”

  “You had a conflict with your classmate.” Sabrina was not asking, but stating a fact, “That boy named Jasper Rowan.”

  Kieran didn’t respond.

  “He is a risk for you,” Sabrina continued, “He cares about you too much. People like him are the quickest to notice something unusual.”

  “He’s just an ordinary high school student,” Kieran said, “He doesn’t know anything.”

  “Not now,” Sabrina's tone carried a warning, “But if you continue to maintain a close relationship with him, it will eventually show cracks. And then there’s Castellan’s daughter—her dependence on you is deepening. That’s a double risk for you.”

  “I know what to do,” Kieran said, his tone weary.

  “I hope you really do,” Sabrina paused, “Next Tuesday, a new mission. The target data has already been transmitted to your mind. This time it’s more difficult and requires more precise planning.”

  Kieran closed his eyes, feeling the sea breeze on his face. “I understand.”

  Connection lost.

  He sat there for a long time, long enough for the sky to darken completely. The lights of the harbor began to turn on, and the distant sound of ship horns could be heard.

  He remembered what Jasper had said: “How isolated do you want to be before you’re satisfied?”

  The answer is—forever.

  He must forever lock himself away in that place where no one can enter.

  Because once someone comes in and sees his true self, it will be the beginning of his destruction.

  He stood up, brushed the dust off his pants, and turned to leave the beach.

  The waves behind him continued to crash against the shore, again and again, never ceasing.

  Just like his life—trapped in an endless cycle, unable to escape.