Late the following night Saturday Avis sat alone in the large room, the only light the pale blue glow of the computer screen.
She had just finished a tense Legend Team Fight match; her team had scraped out a narrow win in the final team fight.
Avis stretched long and slow, a pleasant ache spreading through her body.
It was time to shut everything down and sleep.
But at exactly 21:50, a soft notification chime sounded from the Letter Z app.
The blinking icon in the corner of the screen drew her ash-grey eyes toward it.
Sender: Lucas.
Ryan’s dorm roommate Ryan, her former teammate from the Secret Phoenix esports team.
The message appeared clearly against the dark background:
“Have you seen Ryan today?
He only had a two-hour class this Saturday morning, but he still hasn’t come back.
His phone’s off, and his parents say he didn’t go home either.
Only ten minutes left until the dorm closes at 23:00.”
Avis remained still in front of the keyboard, the screen’s light reflecting off her cold, expressionless face.
Her fingers moved lightly across the keys as she replied in her usual calm tone:
“I’ve been home all morning.
Haven’t seen Ryan.
He hasn’t messaged me either.”
Lucas replied almost immediately:
“No idea where that idiot’s gone.
Whatever we’ll see if he shows up tomorrow.
Sleep well.”
Avis typed quickly, briefly:
“You sleep well too.
Bye.”
She lifted her hands from the keyboard.
Her ash-grey eyes drifted across the game screen, still displaying the victory results, but her mind had zalready wandered elsewhere.
Ryan was missing.
Could he be connected to the school murders?
She furrowed her brow slightly, calculating in her head with her usual cold precision.
This city had a population of 1.3 million.
The police had announced five victims but that was only the number meant to reassure the public.
According to the rumors circulating on the social network FN, the real figure could be as high as ten, or even more.
Assume twelve victims.
The probability that a random person in the city would become a victim was 12 divided by 1,300,000 approximately 0.000923%, or roughly 0.001%.
Tiny.
Almost negligible.
Then she opened the official website of North Glass Tower University of Technology.
According to the statistics on the page, the university had about 5,000 students, of whom male students made up 60% roughly 3,000.
If she took the previous eleven victims as a given, and Ryan became the twelfth…
11 divided by 3,000 ≈ 0.367%.
Still not high.
But if Ryan turned out to be the thirteenth or fourteenth victim… the percentage began to creep upward in a way that felt uncomfortably sharp.
Not high.
Yet high enough to leave a small crack in the icy layer surrounding her mind.
Or was she overthinking it?
Ryan had probably just gone somewhere.
Maybe he was pulling an all-nighter at an internet café with friends, or lost track of time in some random coffee shop.
Avis reached out and switched off the game screen.
The pale blue light faded, leaving the room submerged in deep darkness.
Elena’s words rose again in her mind, insistent and haunting.
She sat still for a long time in the silence, her ash-grey eyes fixed on empty space.
After a restless night of fragmented dreams images of Ryan tangled with those cold probability numbers looping endlessly Avis finally opened her eyes when the bedside clock read exactly 7:30 on Sunday morning.
The room was still dim; heavy curtains blocked the weak winter sunlight.
She sat up slowly, her black hair a tangled mess falling over her shoulders, her ash-grey eyes still carrying a residual fatigue.
Without hesitation she reached for her phone and dialed Lucas.
It rang several times before someone answered.
“Hello… Lucas?
Has Ryan come back yet?”
On the other end, Lucas’s voice was thick with sleep, clearly dragged from a deep dream.
“Hello… Avis?
Yeah… still no sign of that idiot.
Look… talk later, I’m going back to sleep… Bye.”
A long yawn, then the call cut off abruptly.
Avis set the phone down and stared at the dark lock screen.
A bad feeling cold and clearer than ever crept up from the pit of her stomach to her throat.
She drew a deep breath, stretched as if trying to push the heavy air from her lungs, then got out of bed.
She brushed her teeth and washed her face with icy water until she was fully awake.
The face reflected in the mirror remained as cold as usual, yet her ash-grey eyes held a quiet determination for something unspoken.
Avis looked straight into the mirror.
She changed out of her soft pink pajamas into a pale periwinkle-blue shirt paired with slim white trousers, then pulled on a long, pure-white hoodie.
Into a small crossbody bag she packed the essentials: a spare phone, her wallet, and a few miscellaneous items whose purpose only she knew.
When she was ready, Avis went downstairs.
Breakfast was already waiting.
Tina had set out four neatly arranged sandwiches; the warm scent of toasted bread and melted cheese filled the air.
Will, her older brother his fiery orange hair glowing under the light, his gentle sky-blue eyes sat across from Vivian, the girl with long, silky pastel-pink hair and ocean-blue eyes that sparkled whenever she smiled.
Vivian spoke first, her voice sweet with a hint of gentle reproach:
“Rabbie, where are you rushing off to?
Come eat breakfast first!”
Will nodded in agreement, holding a steaming cup of coffee:
“Vivi’s right.
Eat first, then go wherever you want, kiddo.”
Avis paused beside the table for a second, her gaze flicking over everyone in a flash.
“I have plans with Christina.
I’ll eat out later.”
She turned to Tina, her tone light but leaving no room for refusal:
“Tina, please eat my portion for me.
Goodbye, everyone see you later.”