Sai entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The light from the corridor briefly illuminated the shelves, textbooks, and beds. Lars was in his usual spot, hunched over a tablet and chewing on something.
"Oh, you're back already," he said without looking up. "Late again?"
"Yeah. Clients kept coming."
Sai set his bag down, exhaled, and rubbed his neck.
"How's old man Rudd?" Lars asked with a smirk. "Still telling stories about how he single-handedly defeated ten bandits and saved the city from zombies?"
Sai snorted:
"Today he was telling me how he was supposedly offered a seat on the Federal Council. Seriously, I sometimes think he makes half these stories up on the spot."
"A hundred percent," Lars leaned back in his chair. "But you know, he's a funny guy. Though I couldn't work somewhere that constantly smells of gunpowder and old books."
"You get used to it," Sai shrugged.
He took the revolver out of his bag. Placed it on the table. The metal gleamed in the dim lamp light.
"You brought it with you again?" Lars asked, leaning forward. "You haven't even fired it once."
"Just… I don't know. I like it."
Sai ran his finger along the barrel, as if checking if it was alive. "Rudd said nobody wanted this weapon. That it brings 'bad luck'."
"Yeah, sounds reassuring," Lars snorted. "If you get cursed, don't come complaining."
Sai smirked. "Not complaining. It's just… there's something about it."
They fell silent. For a few seconds, only the sound of the Academy's ventilation fans outside could be heard.
"Listen," Lars said suddenly, "what if this revolver is connected to your Echo? I mean, you've had weird coincidences before, maybe this isn't just a piece of metal either."
"I don't know. But… sometimes, when I hold it, I feel like it's breathing."
Sai looked at the weapon. "Like it's reacting."
"Then better not put it under your pillow," Lars muttered. "Or you'll wake up and it'll have eaten you."
Sai grunted.
"Funny."
He stood up and went to the locker. Took out new notebooks and packed them into his backpack. Tomorrow was a day of classes and combat practice training.
"Tomorrow's a tough day," said Lars. "Heard they're assigning us levels."
"Levels?" Sai turned around.
"Yeah. Like, a test of spiritual fortitude and combat potential. Someone said if the results are low, they might transfer you to a different faculty."
Sai gave a short nod.
"Great. Another test."
Lars smirked. "I thought you liked challenges."
"Not really," Sai said quietly. "I just don't have any other options."
He looked at the revolver again.
A faint spark seemed to flicker deep within the metal—a reflection that shouldn't have been there.
Sai blinked, and it was gone.
"Tired, I guess," he muttered to himself and put the weapon away in the desk drawer.
Lars was already in bed.
"Hey, Sai…" he said, half-asleep. "You know, I think you're going to have a long story."
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling. People like you don't just appear by chance."
"Right. Go to sleep, prophet," Sai replied and turned off the light.
Silence.
Only Lars's breathing and the faint hum of the ventilation.
Sai couldn't fall asleep for a long time. Rudd's words, the revolver's gleam, and a strange feeling, as if someone was watching him from inside the drawer, swirled in his head.
He turned on his side, staring into the darkness.
"Just my imagination," he whispered.
But deep inside, something answered, barely perceptible.
Quietly. Like a breath.
---
The darkness seemed to thicken in the room. The air was heavy, as if coated with dust. Sai was asleep, but his body twitched, as if from weak electrical discharges.
In the dream, he stood in the middle of a ruined street. Around him—houses without roofs, burning cars, a sky the color of blood. The noise of footsteps, screams, the roar of monsters.
And voices.
Hundreds. Thousands.
Eat…
Become one of us…
You're not human, after all…
He turned—silhouettes stood nearby, as if made of shadow and ash. People with empty faces, black veins crawling across their skin. They reached for him, tore at the air with claws, and screams ripped from their bodies.
Sai backed away, but someone else was already standing behind him.
A creature.
Not a monster, not a human.
His own shadow, grown from the earth.
The same figure, but its eyes—white, dead.
"You want to destroy us?" it asked. Sai's own voice, but distorted, muffled.
"I… I don't understand…"
"Don't lie to yourself. You fear us. You fear that one day you'll become one of those you hate."
The shadow stretched out its hand—and in its palm was the revolver.
That very one.
The one lying in the drawer.
"Here," it said. "Prove you're not like us. Prove you're human. Shoot."
Sai looked at the weapon, feeling his fingers tremble.
"This is a dream… just a dream…"
"No. This is you. This is your will."
The voice sounded inside his head, as if whispered right under his skin.
He raised the revolver.
On the barrel—his reflection, distorted, as if seen through water.
The shadow took a step forward.
"Shoot, Sai. Or I'll do it for you."
Sai's eyes widened.
He raised the weapon and pulled the trigger.
A flash.
White light.
Silence.
And then—a sharp intake of breath.
Sai woke up.
He was sitting on the bed, drenched in sweat. His shirt stuck to his body, his heart hammered in his chest like a sledgehammer.
Beside him—Lars slept, unaware.
Sai slowly turned his head towards the desk.
The drawer was open.
The revolver lay on the surface, even though he had put it inside.
"…Damn," he whispered.
He got up, walked closer. The metal glinted in the darkness.
The revolver was warm, as if it had just been held in someone's hand.
Sai gripped the handle.
For a moment, he thought the weapon let out a slight sigh.
He quickly put it back and slammed the drawer shut.
Returned to bed, staring at the ceiling.
But sleep was gone now.
Only thoughts.
And the feeling that someone inside him was laughing quietly.