Noa's stance was off. Her feet were too close together, her elbows too stiff. But she was trying.
Garry circled her like a coach who wasn't sure if he was training a fighter or prepping a soda commercial. "Okay. Imagine you're holding a can of peach fizz, right? And someone tries to swat it out of your hands. What do you do?"
Noa blinked. "Put it down?"
"Wrong. You protect the fizz. Always protect the fizz."
Ivy sat nearby on a stack of folded mats, arms crossed, watching the session with something between quiet amusement and genuine interest. "You could just say block with your non-dominant side."
"But that's so boring," Garry said. He turned back to Noa. "Try again. Soda can. Violence."
Noa adjusted her stance. Garry stepped forward, slowly mimicking an incoming strike. This time, she shifted her weight properly and deflected the motion with a surprisingly clean movement.
He stopped, blinked. "Okay, that was good. Like... weirdly good."
Noa shrugged. "I thread embroidery. Hand control is kind of my thing."
The Helpers Club room was unusually quiet when Ivy walked in. Zhihao sat by the window sketching something in a spiral notebook. Riley paced like she was trying to wear a groove into the floor.
"We've got something strange," Riley said without preamble. She held up a folded slip of paper. "Anonymous request in the box. No name, just a message."
She read it aloud: "Help me. I think I'm being watched."
Ivy frowned. "That's it?"
Riley nodded. "Signed with an ID number. I traced it, it's a third-year. Quiet guy, keeps to himself. No club involvement."
Zhihao looked up. "Maybe it's not nothing."
Riley scoffed. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just some overworked kid imagining ghosts."
Ivy took the note, reread it. The handwriting was clean, small, almost careful. "I want to check it out."
"Of course you do," Riley said, sighing. "Just don't escalate without proof. We're not school security."
Later that afternoon, Ivy and Zhihao found the classroom where the student had a solo lab period. It was on the second floor, tucked between unused storage and a mostly empty robotics wing.
They peered through the glass. The student sat alone at a lab station, typing something with rigid posture. His eyes flicked toward the windows every few minutes.
They waited. Watched.
Eventually, Ivy knocked gently and opened the door. "Hi. Helpers Club. Just checking in."
The boy looked up, startled. He quickly minimized his screen. "I didn't ask for help."
Zhihao watched him carefully, but said nothing.
"We just wanted to talk," Ivy said. "That's all."
The student hesitated. "I think someone's been in my room. My dorm window was open this morning. I always lock it. One of my security orbs won't power on. But I haven't seen anyone. And if I report it, it'll sound like I'm overreacting."
Ivy nodded slowly. "Do you want us to check?"
He shook his head. "No. Just... if something happens, remember this."
Zhihao stiffened at that.
They walked back in silence. Zhihao's hands were in his pockets, but Ivy noticed the way his shoulders stayed hunched, like he expected something to jump at him from the shadows.
"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.
He didn't answer at first. Then, very softly: "I don't like it, It reminds me of something."
Ivy didn't press.
Back in the clubroom, Ivy wrote down everything, the student's ID, the window, the orb, the quote.
She handed the page to Riley. "We're not dropping this."
Riley looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
Later that evening, a third-floor hallway sat empty. Lights flickered.
Below, the quiet third-year student walked toward his dorm.
Above him, behind a set of half-closed blinds, a figure stood watching, motionless and silent.
Eyes followed the boy's every step until he turned the corner and vanished from view.