[2:30 PM – The Classroom]
"Ray... Ray!"
A familiar, irritating voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, accompanied by the sensation of something sharp poking into my shoulder blade. I blinked twice, the hazy images in my mind dissipating like smoke. The white ceiling of the classroom came back into focus, followed by the drone of the history teacher's voice discussing the industrial revolution.
I turned my head slowly to find Jin's face filling my vision. He was leaning over his desk, his usual sarcastic grin plastered across his features, twirling a yellow pencil between his fingers like a baton. "Are we back in the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty?" he whispered loudly. "The bell rang a minute ago, dude. Mr. Park has been staring at the back of your head for five minutes wondering if you died with your eyes open."
I looked around. The classroom was emptying quickly. The scraping sound of wooden chairs being pushed back against the linoleum floor, the zipper noises of backpacks, and the excited laughter of teenagers eager for freedom filled the air. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the rows of desks in a warm, orange glow that smelled of chalk dust and old paper.
Everything was... normal. Perfectly, painfully normal.
"I'm with you," I mumbled, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. I began slowly packing my textbooks into my bag. "Just... zoned out for a second."
"Zoned out?" Jin raised an eyebrow, leaning comfortably against my desk, blocking my exit. "That's the third time today. And yesterday too. Are you secretly staying up late gaming without me? If you're grinding levels in Eternity Online without me, I will consider it a betrayal of the highest order."
My hand paused over my bag. I wasn't staying up late. I wasn't sick. And I certainly wasn't betraying Jin in a game. The problem was... my mind.
For the past two days, reality had felt thin. An hour ago, during math class, the teacher's eraser had fallen off his podium. But the strange thing was—I saw it fall in my mind two seconds before it actually happened. I heard the thud before it hit the floor. And when the girl in the front row, Hana, turned to ask me a question, I knew her name and exactly what she was going to say ("Can I borrow a red pen?") before she even opened her mouth.
It felt like I was reading from a script I had already memorized. Or like I was watching a movie I had seen a thousand times. Déjà vu. That's what they call it. But déjà vu is supposed to last for a second, not haunt you for days.
"It's nothing..." I forced a smile, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Just study fatigue. Exams are coming up, you know."
Jin rolled his eyes. "Exams are two months away, genius. You worry too much." He punched my arm lightly. "Anyway, is the challenge still on? Or is your 'fatigue' going to be your excuse for losing?"
"Challenge?"
"The Cyber Café!" Jin's eyes widened with a gleam of pure excitement. "Don't tell me you forgot. The new place downtown, The Grid. They just installed the new combat simulation machines. I'm going to crush you today, Ray. No mercy."
I laughed, the normalcy of his banter grounding me. "Dream on. You haven't beaten me in a fighting game since middle school." "Today is the day history changes!" We walked out of the classroom together, the familiar weight of my school bag and Jin's endless chatter pushing the strange feelings to the back of my mind.
[The Cyber Café – 4:30 PM]
The café was a haven of neon lights, the hum of high-end cooling fans, and the clicking of mechanical keyboards. The air smelled of energy drinks and instant noodles.
"Left! Right! Ray, watch out behind you! Block, you idiot, block!" Jin was shouting excitedly, his fingers flying across the arcade controller like a pianist on speed. He was sweating, his eyes glued to the screen where our avatars were locked in a brutal street fight.
On the screen, my character—a martial artist in a white gi—was facing his character, a hulking cyborg. Jin was fast. Aggressive. Relentless. He played with passion, mashing buttons and screaming attacks. But I... was calm. Almost too calm.
For some reason, the "script" feeling was back. I looked at the screen, but I wasn't just seeing graphics. I was seeing intent. I saw Jin's finger twitch toward the 'X' button, and my brain instantly translated: Low Kick incoming. I saw his eyes shift to the top right corner of the screen: He's checking his Ultimate Meter. He's going to use his special move.
It wasn't a guess. It was knowledge. Block.Side-step.Upper-cut. My hands moved on their own, countering his moves before he even completed them.
"K.O!" The big red letters flashed on the screen, accompanied by the announcer's booming voice. "PLAYER 1 WINS. PERFECT VICTORY." I had won for the fifth time in a row. I hadn't taken a single hit in this round.
"MAN!" Jin threw his hands up in mock despair, slumping back in his gaming chair. "This is cheating! Are you hacking? How did you know I was going to use the Meteor Strike? I didn't even touch the button yet!"
I took a sip of my cold soda, feeling the condensation on the can against my fingertips. "You're readable, my friend," I said, though I felt a chill inside. "Your moves are... obvious."
"Obvious?" Jin laughed, shaking his head as he stood up to grab his jacket. "Fine, Mr. Genius. Since you're so smart, the bill is on you today."
We walked out of the café into the late afternoon. The air was cool and crisp, a relief after the stuffy warmth of the gaming room. The city was waking up for the evening; streetlights flickered on, and the smell of street food began to drift from the vendors. Jin talked non-stop about his plans for the future. "When I graduate, I'm going to study engineering," he said, looking up at the skyscrapers. "I want to build things. Big things. Maybe a Gundam." "A Gundam?" I chuckled. "Aiming high, aren't we?" "Why not? And you can be the pilot."
I listened to him, feeling a surge of gratitude. A simple life. A loyal friend. An open future full of ridiculous dreams. What more could I want?
[Home – 7:00 PM]
"I'm back!" I took off my shoes at the genkan, aligning them neatly beside my father's polished work shoes. The house greeted me with the scent I adored more than anything: Doenjang-jjigae (Soybean Paste Stew). It was the smell of home.
"Welcome back, son." My mother peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face carried the subtle weariness of a long day, fine lines etching the corners of her eyes, but her smile hadn't faded. "Wash your hands. Your father just got back, we're about to eat."
I sat at the dinner table. My father sat at the head, still in his formal white shirt and tie, though he had removed his jacket. He looked exhausted, rubbing his temples, but he put his phone aside as soon as I sat down. "How was school, Ray?" he asked in his calm, deep voice.
"Good, Dad," I replied, serving myself some rice. "I beat Jin five times in a row at the arcade. He's claiming I'm a psychic."
My father chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Poor Jin... he never gives up, does he? That boy has spirit." He sighed, picking up his spoon. "I wish I had his persistence at work. The manager was angry today about the quarterly tax accounts. Looks like I'll have to work overtime next week. Again."
I looked at him. I saw the gray hairs that had begun to multiply on his temples. I saw the stiffness in his shoulders. He was working himself to the bone for us. "Don't worry, Dad," I said, my voice sincere. "Just a few more years. When I graduate and get a job, I'll make sure you retire. You can buy that fishing boat you always talk about."
My mother looked at me from across the table, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She reached out and patted my hand. "We know that, honey... You are our hope. Our good boy."
It was an ordinary dinner. Filled with the clinking of metal spoons against ceramic bowls, the murmur of the evening news on the TV, and the warmth of a family that loved each other. It was perfect. And because it was perfect, I didn't notice the shadow lurking in the corner of the room.
[The Sports Club – 10:00 PM]
The sound of squeaking sneakers and the heavy thud of a ball hitting the wooden floor echoed in the indoor gymnasium. "BAM!" I jumped high, my body arching like a bow, and struck the volleyball with my palm. It rocketed over the net, crushing into the opponent's court before they could react.
"What a hit, Ray!" one of my teammates shouted, high-fiving me. "Your vertical jump is insane today! Are you training in secret?"
I landed on the floor, panting heavily. Sweat dripped from my chin, soaking my jersey. My lungs burned, and my muscles ached in the most satisfying way. The feeling of physical exhaustion was enjoyable. It washed the mind clean. When you're in the air, you don't think about déjà vu. You don't think about the future. You just are.
"Time out!" the coach blew his whistle.
I walked to the bench, grabbing my towel and water bottle. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and drank greedily, the cold water shocking my system. I looked down at my hand—the hand that had just spiked the ball. It was trembling slightly from the exertion.
And then... for one single, terrifying moment... it happened. The gymnasium lights flickered. The noise of the game—the shouting, the whistles, the ball bouncing—vanished instantly into a vacuum of silence.
I looked at my hand. I wasn't holding a blue water bottle. I was holding a black, serrated dagger. My hand wasn't covered in sweat. It was coated in thick, crimson blood.
I looked down at the floor. The polished wooden court was gone. I was standing in a pool of blood. And floating in that pool... were the severed heads of my teammates.
"Ray?" A voice whispered in my ear. Not from outside, but from inside my head. [System Synchronization: 1%]
I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head violently. "No!"
I opened my eyes. The gymnasium was back. The bright lights were steady. My teammates were laughing and drinking water. The bottle in my hand was blue plastic. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"What... what was that?" I whispered to myself, my knuckles white as I gripped the bottle. "Am I going crazy? Is this stress?"
"Ray? Are you playing the second set?" the coach called out to me, looking concerned. "You look pale, son."
I swallowed hard, forcing the bile down my throat. "Coming!" I shouted back. I ran back to the court, desperate to drown the image in movement. Just an illusion, I told myself. Just exhaustion. Just a hallucination.
My life was perfect. I had friends. I had a loving family. I had a future. I wouldn't let a few nightmares disturb it. I didn't know that the "nightmare" was the only real thing in my life, and that everything else... was about to burn.