As he headed out of the bathroom, the brown‑haired boy made his way to his classroom through the hall, passing by other students along the way.
"Isn't he that guy?"
"Yeah, that's him. The guy who–"
He didn't hear the end of what the girl said, but he already knew what she was about to say. He kept his eyes forward and walked past like he hadn't heard anything. It wasn't the first time.
He forgot about the two girls quickly—not because he forced himself to, but because something else distracted him.
Through the window, he caught sight of the indoor gym court. Faint sounds of dribbling echoed from inside.
He blinked, as if to question reality.
So early again? That's some energy and dedication.
He continued toward his class, passing more rooms as he went.
---
1‑C. Finally.
He finally made it to his classroom and stepped inside, spotting the group he had walked with earlier. He gave them a small greeting as he entered.
The room was arranged into five columns and six rows of desks, with the last row only having three seats near the window and the center.
His seat was in the middle of those two seats—in the second column, sixth row.
He made his way to his spot, and slid into his chair. He lifted it as to not scrape the floor, since the sound from scraping a chair's footing against the flooring had always irritated him.
He looked around.
The classroom was only half full. The seats beside him were empty—no bags, no signs that his seatmates had arrived yet.
Ah. It's not eight o'clock yet. I can doze off for a bit.
Even though he had woken up early and felt fine earlier, the sleepiness was starting to catch up to him.
He rested his arms on the desk, crossed them, and lowered his head.
But I should do my homework first instead…
His eyelids fell anyway.
---
It was pitch black.
He couldn't see anything.
Yet somehow, he felt a strange sense of melancholy—like he was forgetting something important.
The feeling lingered, heavy and distant, like a nostalgic memory he couldn't quite remember.
Then something else replaced it.
His right shoulder felt warm. Comforting.
"Oi."
The warmth suddenly turned rough.
Someone was shaking him.
"Wake up, buddy."
It was a soft voice, but he immediately recognized who it belonged to.
He opened his eyes.
"Ah. My bad, Cyn."
He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Cyn was one of his seatmates, who sat to his right in the third column. She had long, wavy black hair and deep crimson eyes, red like blood.
"No worries. Teach is already outside though, so don't try sleeping again. "
"Ah, sure. Thanks."
While they were talking, their teacher entered the room.
"Good morning, class."
---
"Well that was a bore," Cyn complained, sitting on the boy's desk after the lesson ended.
The teacher had left only a minute ago. She must've been waiting the whole time to say that.
Why are you sitting on my desk again?!
"There's nothing new about that," a boy with dark blue hair snickered. "You always complain anyway."
Not this again...
"Knock it off, Shin. You two won't stop arguing once you get into it," he said.
Shin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His red eyes matched Cyn's almost exactly.
"You and Cyn seriously need to get along. I can't deal with both of you messing around. I'm always the one who gets scolded for it."
"Oh come on, you know how different we are. There's almost no wa–"
"Yet both of you are friends."
"With her?!" Shin shot back.
"Friends? Preposterous," Cyn added at the same time.
He sighed.
They do this every day…
"Yeah. Spending most of your time with someone makes them your friend. That's just how it works."
Granted, they're always at each other's necks, He thought. But deep down, I'm sure they don't mean anything by it.
"Plus, if you really didn't like each other, you could just ignore one another."
"No, you don't understand, it's not that s—"
Shin stopped mid‑sentence.
A faint green tint glowed from above.
It was different from the usual white light of the ceiling.
The three of them slowly looked up.
The sight stole their breath away.