Ivy looked up, something flickering across her face. "Med center. She left a note this morning—said she wasn't feeling well. Probably that bug that's been going around."
The words were casual. Normal. The kind of thing you'd say about a roommate who'd caught a cold.
But my gut clenched.
"She went to the med center," I repeated.
"Yeah. Before I woke up, I guess. The note said not to worry, she'd probably be there all day." Ivy shrugged, but her eyes didn't match the gesture. "You know how she is. Probably didn't want me fussing over her."
I knew how she was. That was the problem.
Lumi didn't go to med centers. Lumi powered through illness with the same stubborn determination she applied to everything else. I'd watched her run stairs in a snowstorm, train until her legs shook, push herself past limits that would've broken most people.
She didn't take sick days.
She didn't leave notes.
"Can I see it?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "The note?"
Ivy's eyebrows rose. "It's in our room. Why?"
"I just—" I didn't have a reason. Nothing I could explain without sounding crazy. "Something feels off."
She studied me for a long moment. Then she stood up, leaving her muffin half-eaten. "Come on."
The walk to the dormitory felt endless.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, that silent space where the hum should be aching like a missing tooth. I toldmyself I was overreacting. Told myself Lumi was fine, probably curled up in a medical center bed being grumpy at nurses.
I didn't believe it.
Ivy unlocked the door and stepped inside. I followed, scanning the room automatically—Ivy's side cluttered and warm, Lumi's side bare and functional.
Too bare.
Her desk was empty. Her closet door hung slightly open, and even from here I could see the gaps where clothes should have been.
"Where's the note?" My voice sounded strange. Distant.
Ivy crossed to her bed and picked up a folded piece of paper from the pillow. "Here. But James, I don't think—"
I took it from her hand and read it.
Short. Casual. Impersonal.
Wrong.
"What?"
"Look at it." I held up the note.
Ivy took the note back, frowning. "James, I think you're—"
But she stopped. Her eyes had caught something on Lumi's bed. Another piece of paper, half-hidden under the pillow.
She reached for it before I could.
I watched her face as she read. Watched the color drain from her cheeks, her mouth falling open.
