Point of view: Jessica Jones Vilma
Rain continued to pour over Manila just days after the hospital incident, yet the fear only intensified.
Sara Medina had not been the same since seeing the man in the red mask; she barely slept, and whenever she did… she was plagued by nightmares.
Sara recalled sitting by her bedroom window, her hands trembling as she stared at a photograph of Loki Vargas.
Then, she closed her eyes, and memories of Lisbon—from the days following Loki’s death—came flooding back.
Silence had enveloped the Vargas mansion.
Line Vargas, the academic director and one of the few privy to the family’s secrets, had begun her own investigation.
Sara remembered seeing her looking anxious during a video call.
Line was examining documents.
Photographs.
Names.
Bank transfers.
And the symbol.
A black circle crossed by a red line.
“If anything happens to me… it won’t be suicide,” Line had said.
Two days later, she was found dead in her office.
The official ruling was suicide.
But Sara never believed that lie.
And now, she was certain of one thing.
Line had discovered the same truth as Loki.
That was why both of them had died.
A sound snapped her out of her thoughts.
Her phone vibrated—an unknown number.
Trembling, she answered.
—Hello?— A harsh voice was immediately heard.
—The new girl is going to disappear.
Sara felt her heart skip a beat.
—Who are you?
—Tell Jessica to stop investigating.
The call ended; Sara stood up immediately—she had to find Jessica before it was too late.
Three weeks later, the situation at De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde had changed.
Ressell decided to step down from the student council temporarily to focus on the investigation.
At Luis’s suggestion, someone took her place.
Jessica Jones Vilma.
Luis smiled faintly.
—You’re more observant than half of us.
—And braver— Ressell added.
Jessica didn’t answer.
Because, honestly, she was afraid.
Terrified.
7:35 PM
Room B-12.
The call came in that evening; another student had been found dead.
Carlos García.
Former student council president.
When we arrived at the room, the atmosphere was chilling; the lights were off, and the police had already cordoned off the area.
I put on my basic forensics uniform—white mask, blue gloves—and stepped inside.
Carlos’s body lay sprawled near the teacher’s desk.
He had sustained multiple blows; a metal object had repeatedly struck his head.
Furthermore…
Parts of his body showed signs of recent burns.
Jeremiah Jones examined the scene.
—This is personal.
Christian Reyes nodded.
—The killer wants to send a message.
I began to carefully examine the classroom—the windows, the desks, the chalkboard, the backpacks—and then I saw something carved under a desk: the same symbol—a black circle crossed by a red line.
A chill ran down my spine.
—Another victim connected to the organization.
Ressell stepped closer.
—And someone wants us to find this.
I couldn’t sleep that night; images of Carlos…
Sophia…
Loki…
Line.
Everything swirled in my mind.
I finally drifted off, only for the nightmare to return: I was eleven years old again, walking home from the special school.
It was raining; the streets were deserted.
I was inside a car.
Then, a figure wearing a red mask appeared before me.
—What do you know about Andrew Reyes?
—I asked, my voice trembling.
The figure smiled.
—He died because he discovered something he shouldn’t have investigated.
Then I saw the accident: a truck appeared—moving fast, incredibly fast, with terrifying precision—and crashed straight into Andrew Reyes’s vehicle.
The impact was violent, and I realized something horrifying: it wasn’t an accident; someone had planned it.
I woke up screaming in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face.
Without a second thought, I ran to Linda and Jeremiah’s room; Linda opened the door immediately.
—Jessica, what happened?
I couldn’t answer.
She hugged me and led me to the kitchen; as she brewed green tea and tried to calm me down, Jeremiah sat across from me.
—Another nightmare.
I nodded slowly.
—I saw Andrew.
Silence filled the kitchen.
—I think he was killed.
Jeremiah and Linda exchanged a look—a look that made me realize they knew far more than they let on I was about to ask…
Jeremiah’s phone rang; he answered immediately, and his expression changed.
“What’s the problem?”
The voice on the other end sounded desperate.
Jeremiah stood up.
“Are you sure?”
He slowly lowered the phone; we all watched him.
“What happened?” Linda asked.
Jeremiah swallowed hard.
“Another student has gone missing.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Who?”
Jeremiah looked straight at me and uttered a name that…
Left me frozen.
“Isabella Taylor.”
Kilometers away… in the rain… a black SUV was leaving Manila; in the back seat, a young woman lay unconscious and bound, and beside her… a person wearing a red mask smiled silently.