Ashen Requiem-Chapter 60: Genesis Morning

At first, it was just another rumor.

A whisper in the hallways, carried by the crinkle of recycled newspaper — The Genesis Morning, that cursed rag pretending to "report with objectivity and integrity."

Nothing too serious. Just some insinuations, clickbait headlines, cheap wordplay shoved at the bottom of the page.

But soon, it was daily. And soon, it wasn’t funny anymore.

Faces lit up around the automated news kiosks. Fingers pointed. Suppressed laughter echoed through the cafeteria, the clubs, the lecture halls.

Every morning, Dante was there.

Every morning, a fresh jab.

"Dante and Giana: Cursed Lovers in the Academy’s Basement?"

"A Hero? Or Just a Guy Who Picked the Right Witnesses?"

"The Body of a Killer, the Rank of an E... So Who’s Lying?"

Where most students would’ve cried injustice or tried to defend themselves, Dante stayed silent.

He didn’t buy the paper.

He didn’t respond to anyone.

He didn’t even glance at the bulletin boards plastered with caricatures of him beside club schedules.

But at every hallway turn, every end of class — the stares. Curious sometimes, but more often... mocking.

And then there were them. The journalism vultures.

A swarm of ironed collars, pinned badges, spiral notebooks and hidden mics.

Every lunch break, every class dismissal — they were there.

— "Dante! A word about your past?"

— "Is it true you did time for a covered-up murder?"

— "What do you say to claims that Giana’s your girlfriend?"

Dante walked past them without a word, gaze fixed somewhere between the present and a past he no longer shared with anyone.

And yet... the world around him kept spinning.

Even those close to him couldn’t ignore the poison in the air.

"Dante, the Rank-E Faker! A Genesis Morning Exclusive Investigation!"

Ginny stared at the main bulletin board like she’d just witnessed a public execution.

There it was — printed in full, proudly posted at the North Hall entrance.

A crowd of students had gathered.

She ripped the sheet down, crumpled it in her fist, hurled it to the ground and screamed :

— "WHO’S THE MORON THAT POSTED THIS BULLSHIT?!"

Students flinched.

Some stepped back.

Others pulled out their phones, hoping to catch the next scandal live.

Ginny, red ponytail quivering, was shaking with rage.

— "Seriously... A faker?! You think you take down a Class Three mutant by cheating on a multiple choice test?!"

Awkward silence.

She stormed off, deliberately shoulder-checking one of the journalism club members as she passed.

— "Next time I catch one of you nerds, I’ll make you eat your microphone."

---

Elsewhere, Shigeo sat on a bench near the soccer field, holding the paper in his hands, brow furrowed.

Laughter all around him.

— "Knew there was something sketchy about that guy..."

— "He pops outta nowhere and expects us to believe he solo’d a three-star mutant? Yeah, right."

— "He looks like a lost puppy, not a killer."

Shigeo looked down.

He hated this. The rumors, the half-baked judgment.

He knew what Dante was worth. He’d seen him fight. Seen the patience, the precision, the focus.

And still...

Still, it had become hard to walk next to him in public.

He felt the stares, he heard the whispers. The strained, fake smiles people gave him now. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Slowly, he crumpled the paper in his hand.

Dante stood a few meters ahead, just outside class, as calm as ever.

He raised a hand.

— "You coming, Shigeo ?"

Shigeo hesitated.

A knot formed in his gut — the irrational fear of being seen with a pariah.

Of being cast out too, after all he’d done to fit in.

But he moved forward.

— "Yeah. I’m coming."

They walked side by side in silence.

Eventually, Dante glanced at him, a half-smile playing on his lips.

— "You don’t have to stay. I know what it costs to be seen with me. If you want to pull back a bit... I’d get it. I won’t hold it against you."

Shigeo stopped.

— "...Shut up. I’m not abandoning you. Even if the whole damn school turns on you, I’m staying." His face flushed.

He didn’t know where the words had come from.

He wasn’t even sure if he fully believed them himself.

Dante chuckled — a quiet, tired laugh, but genuine.

— "Kids these days..."

He looked up at the sky, like he was seeing someone else. Maybe Lukas.

— "You’ve got no idea how much you remind me of someone."

---

Johanna was there — as she was every morning.

At her usual seat by the window, surrounded by girls she barely knew, she stirred her tea absentmindedly.

In front of her, a plate with a slice of almond brioche and two neatly peeled apple halves.

She hadn’t touched them.

Nor the vanilla yogurt they had brought her without asking.

Her mind was elsewhere.

Her eyes were fixed on the front page of The Genesis Morning, folded neatly on the table.

A picture of Dante, caught mid-stride, running.

Every morning, she told herself this would be the last time she looked at the front page.

Every morning, she hoped he wouldn’t be there.

And every morning — he was.

That day’s headline : "Dante, the Rank-E Faker — The Evidence That Condemns Him."

She looked away and sighed.

Her gaze dropped to the apple on her plate.

Bright red, shiny. The kind she used to bite into without thinking.

One of the girls at the table — blonde, perfect nails — tilted her head.

— "Oh? That your Dante again? The one from the convoy?"

— "He’s kinda weird, but like... hot, right? You were close to him during the trip, yeah?"

Another giggled.

— "Johanna’s eyes literally melted on that photo. Did you see that, Marianne ? She looked like she was remembering a hit dream."

A third girl, nastier, chimed in :

— "Maybe our dear Saint Johanna isn’t so saintly after all, hmm ? Did something happen on that trip ? A little memory, a little comfort, one thing leads to another..."

They laughed.

Johanna clenched her jaw and calmly set her teacup down.

— "Nothing happened. You’re being unbearable."

— "Oh come on... don’t be so uptight! He’s probably sleeping with the witch anyway. Don’t you think?"

— "Even saints need a little intimacy," sighed the blonde. "We’re not judging you. Dante’s kind of... dark, mysterious, dangerous. It’s trendy."

— "You don’t know anything about him."

She hadn’t raised her voice. But the tension in the air was palpable.

Silence fell over the table.

— "Exactly. That’s what we’re trying to figure out," Marianne pressed. "He’s all over the news. They say he lied about everything. Isn’t that kind of a big deal ?"

Johanna stood.

She picked up her tray, untouched meal and all.

— "If you want gossip, check the forums."

A shadow passed across her face.

She didn’t say another word.

Her chair scraped back.

And she left — spine rigid, jaw clenched.

Behind her, the murmurs began again.

— "...She didn’t take that well."

— "She’s acting weird lately. Did you see her face when we mentioned him?"

— "Maybe we struck a nerve... oops."

— "Whatever. She always comes back. It’s Johanna — just don’t remind her she has a heart."

But Johanna kept walking — away from the noise, away from the girls.

And every time she passed an apple on a table, or saw one in a fruit bowl...

She thought of him.

Maybe because of the way they’d first met.

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