That morning went normally.
My mother and I started the day with a simple breakfast. For us, eating simply was enough to survive.
My mother always said, "Become someone someday."
The question is—
what kind of someone?
I finished my meal, washed the dishes, and checked the contents of my bag one more time before finally heading to school.
There was nothing strange waiting in front of the school gate. No bad feeling. Even that dream didn't bother me much.
At least, I wanted to believe that.
As I walked down the school corridor, I saw a group of girls sitting on a long bench. One of them was showing off her new bag, still looking stiff, as if she wasn't used to owning something expensive yet.
Two other girls leaned closer, watching while touching the bag.
The compliments sounded normal.
Warm.
As they should be.
But something felt wrong.
The two girls praised her. The sentences were similar, the tone sounded the same, the same warm smiles as they spoke.
Yet for some reason—one felt genuinely admiring, while the other… felt like mockery and quiet ridicule.
I don't know how I could even think that. There were no harsh words. No raised voices. No clear insults. But the feeling appeared on its own. Something I shouldn't have felt from praise.
Something that even…
Had nothing to do with me.
The three girls eventually noticed my presence. I looked away and hurried toward the classroom, pretending nothing had happened.
But that feeling lingered—
as if I had just learned something.
Mathematics never felt boring to me. Maybe because numbers are often more honest and certain than words. Numbers never hide intent. Never pretend to be kind. Numbers never force anyone to give in.
"Who can solve this formula?"
The teacher's voice broke the silence of the classroom. His eyes swept across the room, and several faces immediately looked down. I let out a quiet breath before finally standing up from my seat.
I walked to the front and wrote on the board with chalk. My hand moved more calmly than I expected. Honestly, I was never someone with big ambitions. I never dreamed of being the best in class. It's just that—after transferring here, I could read and write more calmly.
"Good," the teacher said. "You're quite good at mathematics. How about joining the school team this year?"
I hadn't even had time to answer when his hand landed on my shoulder.
Just for a moment.
But in that moment, something heavy struck my head. The world seemed to stop speaking. My thoughts blurred as if—
I were inside someone else's head.
No.
Not someone else.
It was him.
I took a sharp breath and returned to my seat. The pain in my head was still there, but this time it was sharper, not heavy.
And that thought—
was I, in the end, going insane?
The day passed without anything meaningful. Class after class went by, the bell rang as usual, and I lived through it all in half-consciousness. Nothing strange happened. There was no continuation of that pain.
The last class ended. Everyone packed their things, the sound of chairs moving and small laughter filling the room.
But the teacher ordered a few students, including me, to carry a stack of books to the staff office.
The corridor felt empty.
Quiet.
With an inhuman kind of silence.
At least until a soft voice—almost like a whisper—was heard.
"Come on… don't you want good grades to apply for college?"
My steps stopped.
"Please don't do this, sir."
The voice came from an unused classroom. From the slightly open door, I saw it.
The same thing that had struck my head earlier appeared again—stronger than before.
Was I seeing the future?
No.
It wasn't a shadow. Not imagination. It felt as if I were inside someone else's head. Feeling something that wasn't mine.
I didn't wait. I quickened my steps toward the stairs, my heart beating irregularly. I didn't look back.
Could I read other people's minds?
The question sounded ridiculous, but there was no other answer that made sense.
When I reached the stairs—I saw it.
That figure stood below.
Still.
But in a single blink—
it was gone.
The stairs were empty again, just like before. As if I had only hallucinated. Yet the cold sensation crawling up my back didn't disappear.
But one thing was certain.
That night wasn't a dream.
I'm not insane.
This is real.