The gates of St. Liora High School stood wide open, bathed in morning light. Laughter echoed across the courtyard as students streamed in—some yawning, others energized, all wrapped in the easy comfort of routine.
To anyone else, it might have seemed perfect. Warm. Wholesome.
But to Seori Nam, it was blinding.
She walked quietly with her sketchbook pressed against her chest, shoulders slightly hunched beneath the weight of her schoolbag and the buzzing colors that never left her alone.
Yellow.
The boy in front of her was genuinely happy, probably excited about something dumb like lunch.
Green.
The girl beside him smiled too wide. Her aura pulsed with jealousy, eyes briefly flicking to someone ahead.
Red.
Someone tripped over a bag and cursed under their breath.
Seori blinked hard and looked down. The world never let her forget what was real and what was fake—not when it was painted in color.
“They’re all pretending,” she muttered softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Everyone paints over the cracks.”
A voice called out as she reached the classroom.
“Good morning, Seori!”
It was Mina from her literature class. She smiled brightly and waved, her energy almost too eager.
Seori looked up and forced a small smile.
Yellow… with streaks of green.
“Why is she in our class?”
The thought slipped into Seori’s head like a static shock.
It wasn’t hers. It never was.
Only strong emotions opened the door to people’s thoughts—and Mina’s envy, however well-disguised, was louder than her voice.
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Inside the classroom, sunlight poured across the desks. Seori paused. Only one seat was open, next to a boy she didn’t know well. He was tall, built like he belonged anywhere but inside a classroom, with black hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.
Kaito Mori.
He sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, headphones in, eyes fixed out the window. Most people whispered about him. Some called him rude. Others said he didn’t care about anyone.
But Seori saw it instantly.
His aura was grey. Just… grey.
No flickers of resentment. No bursts of anxiety. No fake warmth or jealousy or buried rage. Just calm, muted neutrality.
He didn’t wear a mask because he didn’t need one.
Kaito noticed her hesitation, then shifted, nudging his bag out of the seat. Without a word, he looked at her—and for a second, their eyes met.
Seori sat beside him in silence, hands tight around her sketchbook.
She liked the quiet that surrounded him.
It didn’t buzz. It didn’t hurt.
A few minutes later, Yuna Kim swept into the room like she owned it. Her blonde hair bounced perfectly, her smile was sweet enough to rot teeth.
“Seori! I told you to wait by the gate.”
She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Seori’s shoulders, laughing. Her black eyes sparkled.
And her aura… didn’t exist.
There was nothing to see. No color. No noise. Just an impossible blank space. Seori never questioned it. She didn’t want to.
Yuna pulled up a chair and sat on the edge of Kaito’s desk like it was natural.
“You’re sitting with him now?”
“He’s the only open seat,” Seori mumbled.
Yuna giggled. “You’re braver than me.”
Behind them, two girls near the door were whispering.
“…Did you hear what happened in Class 2-B last semester?”
“…Another disappearance?”
Red. Purple.
Seori’s stomach twisted, but she kept her eyes down.
The day passed in a blur—until something cracked.
From across the room, a boy stood too quickly. His hands trembled as he shoved his books into his bag, and his aura—previously pale—suddenly burst into orange and red.
Seori flinched as a thought hit her like a slap.
“They’re going to find out what I did.”
It was too strong. Too loud.
She gripped the edge of her desk, trying to keep still. Her head buzzed with static. Auras around her blurred, triggered by the ripple of panic. Emotions built on top of each other like static electricity. Her chest tightened.
Kaito didn’t move. He didn’t even glance at the chaos that only she could see. He sat still, grey as ever, eyes on the window.
Unbothered. Untouched.
That calm should’ve annoyed her. But instead, she clung to it—silently—using it like a life raft until the buzz in her head began to dull.
The boy with the red-orange aura rushed out of the classroom.
No one followed.
After school, Seori walked with Yuna beneath a pink-orange sky.
“You’ll fit in here perfectly,” Yuna said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I just know it.”
Seori didn’t respond.
Because she had already seen too much.
Because no one else had noticed the way that boy’s panic nearly spilled over.
Because even though Kaito never looked at her once…
He was the only thing in that room that didn’t lie.
