Riya stared at the message.
"I told him you liked games."
Her mind immediately goes back to the moment she grabbed the boy's phone.
His reaction. His confusion. His exact words: "What? No! Who are you?"
Her fingers tightened. That part didn't make sense. If he had really found her keychain yesterday, he should have recognized her face. At the very least, he would have known her name. Instead, he had looked at her like a total stranger.
Who are you? Not Riya. Not You dropped these.
It meant one of two things: either the Watcher was lying... or the boy had no idea whose keychain he had found. Neither option felt safe.
The studio looked normal again. Students leaned over their drafting tables, rulers sliding across paper as they worked on their architectural layouts. Some whispered quietly about the confrontation that had just happened. Some glanced at her. Someone quietly laughed. Others pretended nothing had happened at all.
Professor Joseph moved through the rows, occasionally stopping to examine a student's plan as if the scene had never existed. But the damage was done. The confrontation had turned Riya into the center of attention. This was exactly what the Watcher had accused her of wanting.
But Riya felt something worse. Someone in this room was enjoying this. The thought made her stomach tighten, but she couldn't focus on the room at large anymore. Her brain was already reconstructing the puzzle.
Her eyes swept the rows, and then she noticed something strange. While the entire class had reacted to the drama, one person hadn't.
The quiet boy.
This was the same one she had confronted yesterday after class. He was the one who had made her feel so embarrassed. He sat at his desk, a large drafting sheet spread across his board. A ruler was in one hand, his pencil moving steadily as he worked on a floor plan. He hadn't looked up during the confrontation. Not even once
That felt wrong. People reacted to drama. They stared. They whispered. Even those who pretended not to care still stole a glance. Ignoring something like that required conscious effort.
Riya stood up. A few nearby students glanced at her again. She walked over quietly. Sits across from him. He didn't stop drawing. For a moment she said nothing.
Then she spoke quietly. "You're the only one who didn't watch."
His pencil paused. Slowly, he looked up. His expression was calm. Almost thoughtful.
"No," he said. He paused. "I was watching."
Riya frowned. "Then why didn't you look?"
He held her gaze for a moment longer before answering.
"Because you only see things one way."
He lowered his eyes again and picked up the ruler.
"I was watching," he repeated.
A brief pause followed.
"But not the way you think."
Then he returned to his drawing as if the conversation had ended.
Riya remained there for another second. Something about the way he spoke unsettled her. It didn't feel defensive. It felt observational, like he had been studying her from a distance.
Just not in the way she expected.
She stood and walked back to her seat.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
Unknown Number: Trying a new strategy?
Another message appeared.
Better than grabbing random phones.
Heat crept up the back of her neck. He had seen that conversation too.
Another message followed.
But you're still asking the wrong questions.
Riya glanced toward the windows again. The boy from the library was still sitting there.
But something about him had changed.
His drafting sheet lay open on the desk in front of him, untouched. Instead of working, he kept glancing down at his phone, his jaw set tight.
Riya understood why; he had seen the message too.
She thinks it's you. Tell her she's wrong.
Whoever was sending those texts hadn't just been talking to her. He had been directing the scene, pushing both of them toward the same confrontation.
For a moment, the boy looked up, and their eyes met across the room. There was no anger in his expression - no accusation.
Only confusion.
Then he quickly looked away and turned his phone face down on the desk.
Riya felt the question rise again.
If he found her keychain yesterday, why had he played along?
Her phone vibrated.
The sound made her fingers tighten.
Unknown Number: Still confused?
Another message appeared immediately.
You're asking the wrong question.
Riya's pulse quickened.
A third message arrived.
The real question is why he listened.
Her breath caught.
Another message appeared.
Curiosity is stronger than kindness.
A pause.
Then the next line appeared.
I told him someone would come asking about the keychain.
Riya felt her stomach tighten.
Another message appeared.
I told him it was a game.
Everything snapped into place. The library boy hadn't been helping the Watcher. He had simply been curious. He found a keychain in the hallway, and then a stranger texted him saying someone might come asking about it.
Saying it was part of a game.
So when Riya confronted him, he thought she might be part of that game too.
Not the owner.
Just another player.
Riya slowly exhaled.
The Watcher hadn't just been manipulating her. He had been moving other people. Like pieces on a board.
For the first time since this started, she didn't move toward anyone.
She didn't accuse.
She didn't demand another phone.
Instead, she observed.
Rows of drafting tables filled the studio. Students leaned over architectural plans, pencils moving steadily across tracing paper. Some whispered quietly. Others checked their phones when they thought no one was looking.
Her gaze moved slowly across the room.
Then something small caught her attention.
One seat was empty.
Leo's.
Riya frowned slightly. Yesterday the Watcher had dragged Leo's name into the conversation like he was part of the puzzle.
Now he wasn't here.
Her phone vibrated almost immediately
Unknown Number: Looking for Leo?
Another message appears.
Relax. He's just absent today.
A pause followed. Then another message appeared.
Even I don't control everything that happens here.
For the first time since this game began, she wasn't sure if that was true.
Her gaze continued across the studio.
Most students had returned to their drafting work. Pencils moved across tracing paper. Rulers slid quietly over architectural layouts.
Then she noticed something.
Two rows behind her, a student sat with his back slightly turned. He wore a grey hoodie.
His head was lowered over his drafting board, the hood hiding most of his face. A large sheet of tracing paper was pinned to the board, and his pencil moved steadily across it.
From where Riya sat, she couldn't see what he was drawing. She couldn't even see his expression. Just the slow movement of his hand working across the page.
A new message appeared.
Unknown Number: Better.
Another message followed.
Unknown Number: Observation suits you more than accusations.
But you're still missing the most interesting part.
Riya stared at the screen, fingers tightening around the phone. A final message appeared.
Look at the window, Riya. You're not the only one looking at the glass.