An Nhien hated crowded places.
Not because she was an introvert.
And not because she disliked the sound of people talking and laughing.
It was because in a crowd, she could hear too much.
“I’m so hungry…”
“Should I skip class this afternoon?”
“That girl looks awful in that shirt.”
“I wonder if Dad’s coming home tonight.”
“I wish I hadn’t said that to her.”
“That guy’s looking at me.”
Those sounds didn’t come through her ears.
They appeared directly inside her head.
Hundreds of thoughts piled over one another, chaotic as a room with a hundred radios all playing at once.
An Nhien was used to it.
At least, she used to think she was.
Until that morning.
An ordinary Monday morning, so ordinary there should have been nothing worth remembering.
It was drizzling in September. The grounds of Minh Thanh University were soaked, streaks of water stretching across the red-tiled pavement. Students crowded through the gates, some carrying umbrellas, some wearing hats, some running and cursing because they’d forgotten their raincoats.
Nhien stood beneath the awning, hugging a stack of books against her chest with one arm.
She closed her eyes.
One.
Two.
Three.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
*Don't listen.*
*Don't look anyone in the eye.*
*Don't pay attention to them.*
That was the first rule.
She opened her eyes, lowered her head, and walked into the lobby.
A male student ran past her.
“Move!”
Nhien stepped aside.
For one brief moment as they passed, their eyes accidentally met.
And a voice rang out in her head.
*I can't let the professor find out I haven't done the assignment.*
Nhien stopped short.
She turned around.
The student had already disappeared into the crowd.
She sighed.
A thought.
Just one thought.
It was fine.
She kept walking.
The most terrifying thing about this ability wasn’t hearing secrets.
It was that she couldn’t choose what she would hear.
Nhien discovered her ability when she was twelve.
That day, she looked into her homeroom teacher’s eyes and heard:
*This girl is such a nuisance.*
She cried all night.
After that, she tried again.
With her dad.
With the neighbors.
With people on the street.
Then she realized something terrifying.
People lied with their mouths.
But their thoughts didn’t.
And once you knew the truth, it was very hard to pretend you’d never learned it.
She had once heard her best friend think that she was selfish.
She had heard her father think that he regretted having her.
She had heard a boy she liked think that there was nothing special about her.
Those things hurt.
But time made them familiar.
Nhien learned not to care.
She learned to avoid other people’s eyes.
She learned to live like a normal person.
Until she met that man.
He stood at the end of the hallway.
A man in his early thirties.
A black shirt.
Dark pants.
He wasn’t carrying an umbrella, even though it was still raining outside.
The first thing Nhien noticed was that he didn’t belong at the university.
The second was that he was looking at her.
Without blinking.
Nhien immediately lowered her gaze.
*Don't look.*
*Don't look.*
She quickened her pace.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
Then a voice rang out.
Not inside her head.
Behind her.
“An Nhien.”
She stopped.
Her whole body went cold.
No one here called her name.
At least, not a stranger.
Nhien slowly turned around.
The man was still standing there.
“Who are you?”
He didn’t answer.
He only looked at her.
The calm in his eyes was strangely unsettling.
Nhien tried to avoid his gaze.
But then she realized something.
A very familiar sensation.
She was listening.
But she couldn’t hear anything.
No thoughts.
No images.
No emotions.
No inner voice.
Nothing.
Nhien raised her head.
For the first time in her life, she looked straight into someone’s eyes and couldn’t read him.
The man smiled.
“So it’s true.”
Nhien backed away.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“You know me?”
“I do.”
“How do you know me?”
The man looked at her for a few more seconds.
Then he said something that made her heart stop.
“You’re more like your mother than I thought.”
Nhien stood frozen.
Her mother.
The word drove straight into her memories like a knife.
Her mother was dead.
At least, that was what her father had said.
A car accident.
Ten years ago.
Nhien had been nine.
She didn’t remember much about that day.
Only the rain.
So much rain.
The sound of shattering glass.
Her mother’s hand gripping hers.
And one sentence.
*Never trust a man wearing black.*
She had once thought it was only a nightmare.
But the man standing in front of her was wearing black.
“You know my mother?”
“I do.”
“Where is she?”
He didn’t answer.
Nhien stepped toward him.
“She’s still alive, isn’t she?”
The man looked at her.
For the first time, the calm expression vanished from his face.
“You shouldn’t ask that.”
“Why?”
“Because if you find out…”
He stopped.
“…they’ll know you remember.”
Nhien felt the blood in her veins freeze.
“Remember what?”
The man said nothing more.
He turned and walked away.
Nhien immediately chased after him.
“Stop!”
The hallway was crowded.
She ran past students talking, but she couldn’t see him anymore.
It was impossible.
He had vanished in just a few seconds.
Nhien stood in the middle of the hallway, breathing hard.
Then a laugh rang out beside her.
“Who are you looking for?”
Nhien jumped.
A young man stood beside her.
A gray jacket.
Slightly messy black hair.
A cup of coffee in his hand.
He looked at her curiously.
“No one.”
Nhien answered quickly.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“Then why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”
Nhien didn’t answer.
She turned away.
But the instant their eyes met—
There was nothing.
Absolute emptiness.
Nhien stood perfectly still.
No.
That was impossible.
She looked again.
The young man was still drinking his coffee.
Calm.
No thoughts.
No voice.
Nothing.
Nhien unconsciously took a step back.
He raised an eyebrow.
“What’s wrong?”
“You…”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your name?”
“Khai.”
“Khai…”
Nhien stared at him.
He smiled.
“Have we met before?”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
Nhien didn’t know how to answer.
Because for the first time in ten years, she had met someone her ability couldn’t reach.
Khai tilted his head.
“Is there something on my face?”
“No.”
“Then that’s good.”
He turned around.
“Oh, Professor Tran is teaching next period, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to go together?”
Nhien didn’t answer right away.
Part of her wanted to stay away from him.
Another part wanted to know.
Why?
Why couldn’t she hear Khai’s thoughts?
And why did the man from before know about her mother?
In the end, she nodded.
“Okay.”
The two of them walked toward the stairs together.
No one noticed the security camera in the corner of the hallway.
No one noticed the red indicator light on the camera switch on.
In a room several miles away, a computer screen lit up.
A man sat in front of the computer.
He stared at the girl on the screen for a long time.
Then he picked up his phone.
“Confirmed.”
The person on the other end was silent.
“She’s met the target.”
A woman’s voice asked:
“Is Khai there?”
“Yes.”
“Did he talk to her?”
“He did.”
The person on the other end was silent for a few seconds.
Then the woman said:
“Then start the plan.”
The man looked at the screen.
“What about An Nhien?”
“Don’t kill her.”
“Understood.”
“And remember…”
The voice on the other end dropped lower.
“…don’t let her remember that night.”
The call ended.
The man leaned back in his chair.
On the desk in front of him was a file.
Its cover was red.
There was only one line on it:
**SUBJECT 07 — AN NHIEN**
Beneath it was an old photograph.
A nine-year-old girl stood beside her mother.
The mother in the photograph was the very woman An Nhien believed to be dead.
But on the back of the photograph, there was a handwritten sentence.
**“If the girl remembers who saved her, she’ll remember who killed her mother.”**
Elsewhere, An Nhien was walking beside Khai.
She didn’t know that her ordinary life had ended.
She also didn’t know that the man in black would be the first among many people who wanted to kill her.
But there was one thing she knew for certain.
Her mother might still be alive.
And if that was true—
Then for the past ten years, everything she believed in had been a lie.