Chapter 77 The brave and foolish one
Morning sunlight slid over the campus like a thin, pale sheet too soft for how sharp the air felt. Fear had a way of settling on everything lately: on the buildings, on the grass, on the people who walked with their shoulders hunched and their eyes scanning corners.
But nothing spoke louder than the hair.
Red hair was gone.
Everywhere Lila turned, the color had vanished from the campus like a season wiped clean. The courtyard, usually bright with scattered shades of copper and auburn, now held only dark brown waves, glossy blacks, hesitant blondes, and awkward chestnut tones that clashed with their owners’ skin. It was as if the campus had collectively decided to erase a color from existence.
Except her.
Lila walked across the quad, her red hair catching the sun like a flare, unmissable, and unforgivable.
Students stared. Some with admiration.
Some with judgment. Some with the uneasy look people give someone standing a little too close to a cliff.
Whispers rushed behind her like a trailing fog.
“That’s her, she didn’t dye it.”
“Is she insane?”
“Or just stupidly brave?”
“Maybe she wants to get killed.”
“No, she’s stubborn. I heard she said she won’t let a murderer dictate her choices.”
“Yeah until she’s next.”
Lila kept walking, jaw tight, pretending she couldn’t hear any of it. Every whisper pricked her skin, but she refused to bow her head. She refused to shrink.
There's no way she'd give the killer what he wants. Not even the fear or the power to control her daily mood.
She inhaled slowly through her nose, the scent of wet grass grounding her for a moment, but her hands still trembled slightly at her sides.
Her boldness wasn’t as solid as it looked on the outside.
It was fragile. It was thin. It was a decision she had to repeat every ten seconds in her own head.
Her footsteps halted when she saw a cluster of red-haired girls, well, formerly red-haired, standing together near the fountain. Their newly dyed hair made them almost unrecognizable. One girl had dark brown that didn’t suit her. Another had gone icy blonde, her roots already showing.
They stared at Lila openly as she passed.
Some with guilt. Some with resentment.
Most with the kind of fear that made people want to disappear.
One muttered, “She’s making the rest of us look weak.”
Another whispered sharply, “No, she’s just foolish.”
Lila swallowed hard but kept walking.
Then a familiar voice cut across the murmurs.
“Lila!”
Asher jogged toward her, pushing through the thinning morning crowd. His expression was already tense, jaw clenched, eyes scanning her, then her hair and then the people watching.
He reached her side and lowered his voice.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Lila blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in his tone. “Going to class?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Asher’s eyes flicked over the few lingering students, then he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her to a quieter side of the walkway. “Why didn’t you dye your hair?”
She pulled her hand back, though not harshly. “Because I don’t want to.”
Asher exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. He looked exhausted from worry, from fear, from the way every day seemed to bring another tragedy.
“Lila, look around you. Everyone else dyed their hair for a reason. They’re scared and they should be.”
“I’m scared too,” she whispered.
His expression softened for half a second. “Then why didn't you dye your hair?”
“Because if I change my hair, it means he wins,” she said quietly. “It means I’m letting a murderer decide who I am.”
Asher stared at her for a long moment. His eyes searched her face, trying to understand the part of her that stayed steady even when everything else around her cracked.
“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” he said. “Not to me, not to them, and definitely not to him.”
“I’m not proving anything,” she replied. “I’m just refusing to bend.”
Asher shook his head slowly. “There’s a difference between refusing to bend and putting a target on yourself.”
The words hit her chest like a slow punch. She knew he wasn’t wrong. She knew keeping her red hair made her stand out, made her recognizable, made her exactly the kind of person the killer would notice.
But she couldn’t bring herself to change it. It felt like losing something. Her sister died with red hair. Her mother carried red hair before shaving it off after the funeral.
Lila was the last one left.
She couldn’t dye away the last piece of home she had.
“I’m not going to change who I am,” she said, her voice a little firmer. “Not because someone wants to hurt me. That’s not courage, Asher. That’s survival disguised as surrender.”
Asher stared at her, quiet for a long ten seconds.
Then he said softly, “Sometimes surrendering means survival and wisdom.”
Lila’s heart squeezed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Students trickled around them, glancing at her with the same mixture of awe and disdain. Some whispered loudly enough for her to hear.
“Does she think she’s special?”
“She’s practically asking for it.”
“God, is she trying to get us all killed?”
“That red hair has a death wish.”
Asher heard them too. His jaw flexed, eyes darkening, but he didn’t say anything to them. Instead, he stepped a little closer to Lila, subtly placing himself between her and their stares.
Just then, a girl from their photography department passed by, her newly dyed brown hair still dripping at the ends. She paused in front of Lila.
“You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever seen,” she said, “or you’re absolutely insane.”
Lila forced a small smile. “Maybe both.”
The girl nodded, gave her a sympathetic look, and hurried off.
Asher watched her go before turning back to Lila.
“Look, I’m not trying to fight you,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t want to lose you. And keeping your hair this way, it scares me.”
Lila softened, her anger fading. “I know you’re worried. I really do. But I also need to feel like I’m still myself. Like I’m not shrinking.”
“So dye it temporarily,” Asher insisted. “Just until the killer is caught. It doesn’t have to be permanent.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Asher swallowed a frustrated sigh. “Then at least let me walk you everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yes,” he said. “To class, to the cafeteria, to your dorm. You’re not being alone, not for a second.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m planning,” he shot back. “Overreacting would be duct-taping your door shut and hiding you in my room.”
Despite her stress, Lila burst into a short laugh. “Please don’t.”
A faint smile tugged his lips. “Then let me do the bare minimum and keep you alive.”
Her expression softened. “Okay, walk me to class.”
They started moving across campus together. Still, conversations around them swelled like rising wind, everyone seemed to have something to say about her hair, about her choice, about what it meant.
Some still admired her. Some feared for her. Some hated her for making them look like cowards.
Near the entrance of the humanities building, Asher stopped her.
“Lila,” he said softly, “I’m serious. You’re being brave but it scares the hell out of me.”
“I’m scared too,” she admitted.
“I know,” he whispered.
They stood there for a heartbeat, eyes locked, the world moving around them in blurred shapes and muffled voices.
Then the bell rang, snapping the moment apart.
“I’ll pick you up after class,” Asher said.
“I know,” she replied with a small smile.
She walked inside, her red hair glowing under the hallway lights. Students parted unconsciously as she moved through the corridor, the rare splash of color in a sea of dyed conformity.
Some people whispered again. Some stared openly. One girl muttered, “She’s asking for it and I hope it comes super fast.”
But one student, a quiet brunette in oversized glasses, breathed, “She’s brave, I wish I were brave like that.”
Lila didn’t turn around. But she heard it.
And something inside her steadied. She wasn’t fearless. She wasn’t immortal. She wasn’t invincible.
She was simply tired of running from shadows.
As she reached her classroom door, she exhaled slowly, steadying herself, letting her fingers brush through her hair.
Still red. Still hers. Still a warning or a challenge to whoever was watching.
But that didn’t stop the shiver that crawled up her spine.
Because somewhere on campus someone had definitely noticed she remained the last red-haired girl standing.
And someone liked that.
A lot.