Chapter 7 - Chapter 6 – The First Corpse

It had only been a day.

One day since the storm.

One day since the false Natasha.

One day since those words buried themselves deep inside my mind and refused to leave.

"The world is listening."

And yet...

life continued.

That was the terrifying part.

The world never stopped for anyone.

Not for grief.

Not for fear.

Not for the moment when your understanding of reality shattered into pieces.

Teachers still taught their classes.

Students still laughed in crowded hallways.

Cars still filled the streets.

Birds still sang from power lines.

The universe remained indifferent.

As though nothing had happened.

As though something impossible hadn't whispered directly into my ear.

I slowly stirred the food on my tray.

The cafeteria buzzed with life.

Conversations overlapped.

Laughter echoed between tables.

Metal utensils clattered against trays.

Dozens of voices blended together into a single wall of noise.

But it all felt distant.

Muted.

Like I was listening from underwater.

As though an invisible barrier separated me from everyone else.

At my table, Won Ho and Minho were arguing about the upcoming school festival.

Kim was scrolling through her phone.

Xia and Airi were debating an assignment due next week.

I watched them quietly.

Sometimes I wondered how they managed to look so alive.

So certain.

So present.

They belonged to this world.

I didn't.

I felt like a note scribbled in the margins of someone else's story.

Like a typo in a book nobody had bothered to correct.

"How's it going, freak?"

The atmosphere around the table tightened immediately.

I didn't even need to look up.

Jason.

Again.

A sigh escaped me.

Sometimes I wondered if he spent every morning trying to invent new ways to make my life worse.

"Oy, Jason. Can you leave Dark alone for once?"

Won Ho spoke before I could.

Jason laughed.

A loud, mocking laugh.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

Minho immediately grabbed Won Ho's arm before he could stand.

We all knew the pattern.

If Won Ho threw the first punch, everything would somehow become our fault.

Jason stepped closer.

The smell of cheap cologne mixed with cigarette smoke followed him.

"I seriously don't get what people see in you."

He pointed directly at me.

"You dress like you're attending your own funeral."

A few students nearby laughed.

"Always wearing black."

"Always reading weird books."

"He looks like a serial killer."

"I swear I've never seen him smile."

"He gives me the creeps."

I lowered my gaze toward my food.

Not because it hurt.

Or maybe it did.

I honestly couldn't tell anymore.

Pain becomes difficult to measure after enough years.

Eventually it stops feeling exceptional.

It becomes routine.

Like breathing.

Like walking.

Like waking up.

"Look at him."

Jason smirked.

"He doesn't even defend himself."

Of course I didn't.

Why would I?

It had never worked before.

When I was younger, I used to fight back.

Then I learned something simple.

People don't stop hurting you because you protest.

They just learn how much noise you make before you break.

And I was too tired to keep making noise.

A chair scraped violently against the floor.

Won Ho stood up.

His jaw clenched.

"I told you to leave."

This time there was real anger in his voice.

Jason grinned.

"What? The guard dog gonna bark?"

Several students stopped eating.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because suffering becomes entertainment when it belongs to somebody else.

Kim suddenly appeared beside our table holding a cold soda.

Without saying anything, she handed it to Jason.

"Just take it and leave him alone."

Jason stared at the can.

Then smiled.

A hollow smile.

The kind that never reached the eyes.

"See? Was that so hard?"

Then he opened it.

And dumped the entire thing over my head.

Cold liquid soaked my hair.

My face.

My uniform.

My hands.

For a moment, the cafeteria went silent.

Then came the laughter.

The whispers.

The phones being raised.

Someone was recording.

Of course they were.

I looked down at my uniform.

It was the only clean one I had left.

Something stirred inside me.

Not anger.

Not sadness.

Just exhaustion.

An exhaustion so deep it felt older than my bones.

Slowly, I stood.

I didn't say a word.

I didn't look at anyone.

I simply walked away.

Behind me, I heard Won Ho shove his chair back.

Then his furious voice exploded across the cafeteria.

"Now I'm really gonna kill you, you bastard!"

But I kept walking.

Because I already knew how this story ended.

Someone got angry.

Someone tried to defend me.

Someone got hurt.

And somehow...

I still became the problem.

I entered the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Silence.

Finally.

I stood before the sink and stared at my reflection.

Wet hair.

Tired eyes.

Soaked uniform.

I looked like a corpse pulled from a river.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"Pathetic."

I turned on the faucet and splashed water across my face.

The water mixed with something red.

I froze.

Blood.

My nose was bleeding again.

Perfect.

I grabbed paper towels and cleaned it slowly.

Then a terrible realization surfaced.

When I was a child, I used to cry whenever people hurt me.

Now I didn't.

And that was worse.

Much worse.

Because the worst thing about pain isn't experiencing it.

It's becoming convinced you deserve it.

...

The fall happened after lunch.

One moment I was walking down the stairs.

The next—

Impact.

My body slammed against the steps.

The world spun violently.

Metal railings rattled.

Pain exploded through my back and shoulders.

I rolled all the way to the bottom.

For several seconds I couldn't breathe.

Above me, someone laughed.

"Oh, look."

Another voice joined in.

"The freak lost his balance."

More laughter followed.

I stayed on the floor.

Waiting for the dizziness to pass.

Waiting for someone to ask if I was okay.

Nobody did.

Students simply walked around me.

Some looked away.

Others pretended not to notice.

Most didn't care.

A warm drop slid from my nose.

Blood.

Again.

I watched it hit the white floor.

A tiny red stain spreading outward.

"What sin did I commit..."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

"...to deserve existing like this?"

No answer came.

None ever did.

Slowly, I forced myself to stand.

My legs hurt.

My shoulder hurt.

Everything hurt.

But I kept walking.

Because stopping wouldn't change anything.

Because life never waited for broken people.

And because no matter how badly you shattered...

the world still expected you to keep moving.

...

By the time classes ended, I felt half dead.

Every word from every teacher sounded distant.

Like voices echoing from the bottom of a lake.

I packed my things quickly.

Didn't talk to Kim.

Didn't talk to Won Ho.

Didn't talk to anyone.

I didn't want them worrying.

I didn't want to become a burden.

So I left before they could stop me.

Outside, dark clouds covered the sky.

Wind dragged litter through the streets.

The city felt cold.

Empty.

Wrong.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

Several.

Followed by familiar laughter.

My stomach sank.

I didn't turn around.

I already knew.

Jason.

And his friends.

I kept walking.

The alley appeared ahead of me.

Narrow.

Dark.

Like the open mouth of some starving creature.

I tried to pass it.

A hand slammed into my back.

The world lurched.

And suddenly I was inside.

The first punch landed before I could recover.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Pain exploded across my face.

Blood filled my mouth.

Someone grabbed my hair.

Someone kicked my ribs.

Someone laughed.

Time blurred.

The alley became a storm of fists and boots.

I couldn't tell where one strike ended and the next began.

At some point I heard something crack inside me.

A small sound.

A terrible sound.

One of my ribs.

Maybe more.

Breathing became agony.

Yet I didn't scream.

I couldn't.

Or maybe I simply didn't want to.

And somehow...

that frightened them more.

"Look at him."

"He isn't reacting."

"What's wrong with this guy?"

Jason grabbed my hair and forced my head up.

Blood dripped from my nose.

My lips.

My chin.

I looked at him.

Not with hatred.

Not with anger.

Just exhaustion.

An exhaustion deeper than pain.

Deeper than fear.

For the first time...

I saw uncertainty in his eyes.

Then fear.

"Freak."

His voice trembled.

"You're a damn freak."

He kicked me again.

And again.

Until he grew tired.

Until his breathing became ragged.

Until even his rage ran out.

Finally, he spat on me.

"Tell your friends not to touch me again."

Then they left.

Their laughter slowly disappearing into the rain.

Silence returned.

Heavy.

Endless.

Drops began falling from the sky.

One by one.

Rain mixed with blood.

Blood mixed with water.

I stared at the growing puddle beneath me.

Too tired to move.

Too tired to cry.

Too tired to care.

Yet tears still came.

Quietly.

Without strength.

Without sound.

"I wish..."

My voice cracked.

"...I could just disappear."

The city offered no answer.

Only rain.

Then headlights appeared through the storm.

A car stopped nearby.

And a familiar voice called my name.

"Dark!"

Slowly...

I lifted my head.

Alya.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining her.

Rain blurred the world into streaks of gray and silver. The headlights behind her seemed too bright, too warm, too distant from the reality I was currently drowning in.

But then she called my name again.

"Dark!"

And I knew it was real.

The passenger-side window slid down.

Alya leaned toward it, her usual smile already forming.

"Hey! I was just thinking about—"

She stopped.

The smile vanished instantly.

I watched the exact moment she saw me.

The blood.

The bruises.

The torn uniform.

The way I was struggling just to remain standing.

Something inside her expression broke.

"...Dark."

Her voice came out almost as a whisper.

Then she was moving.

The driver's door flew open.

Rain soaked her clothes immediately as she rushed toward me.

"What happened?"

I tried to answer.

"Nothing, I—"

A sharp stab of pain shot through my ribs.

My body folded forward.

Alya caught me before I hit the ground.

And for the first time that day...

I saw fear.

Not my fear.

Hers.

Her hands trembled as they held me upright.

"No."

The word escaped her lips.

Soft.

Broken.

"No, no, no..."

I had never seen Alya look like that.

Never.

She was usually bright.

Confident.

The kind of person who carried sunlight with her even on cloudy days.

But now her eyes looked terrified.

As if she was afraid I might disappear if she let go.

"Who did this?"

I lowered my gaze.

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

The response came immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without doubt.

The sincerity behind those words hurt more than the bruises.

Because I didn't know what to do with it.

I didn't know what to do when people cared.

Alya guided me toward the car.

Every step felt like someone driving a knife between my ribs.

By the time she helped me into the passenger seat, I was breathing hard.

She shut the door carefully.

Then hurried around to the driver's side.

The moment she sat down, she looked at me again.

Really looked.

And her face turned pale.

The dried blood around my mouth.

The swelling beneath one eye.

The way I was trying not to move.

The realization hit her all at once.

"They could've killed you."

I stared out the window.

Rain crawled down the glass like tears.

"Maybe."

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

For several seconds she didn't say anything.

Then she started the car.

The drive felt strangely quiet.

Not because there was nothing to say.

But because there was too much.

Streetlights passed overhead one after another.

Golden halos reflected across wet pavement.

The city blurred outside the windows.

Alya kept glancing at me.

Every few seconds.

As if checking whether I was still conscious.

As if she expected me to disappear.

Eventually she spoke.

"Does it hurt?"

I laughed softly.

The sound came out wrong.

Dry.

Empty.

"A little."

She shot me a look.

"A little?"

"Okay."

I sighed.

"Maybe more than a little."

"Dark."

Her voice carried a warning.

I knew that tone.

It was the same tone doctors used when they already knew their patient was lying.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

I looked away.

Because pretending was easier.

Pretending hurt less.

If I admitted how bad things were...

then they became real.

And reality was already unbearable enough.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

Eventually we reached her house.

Warm yellow light glowed behind the windows.

The sight alone felt foreign.

Homes weren't supposed to look like that.

Safe.

Comfortable.

Alive.

At least not in my experience.

Alya helped me inside.

The moment the front door closed behind us, warmth wrapped around my body.

The sudden contrast made me realize how cold I'd actually become.

"Sit."

I obeyed.

Not because she ordered me to.

But because I honestly wasn't sure I could remain standing much longer.

Alya disappeared down the hallway.

I heard drawers opening.

Cabinets.

Footsteps.

Then she returned carrying a medical kit.

A large one.

The sight almost made me smile.

"You were prepared."

"I'm studying medicine."

She knelt in front of me.

"I prepare for disasters."

"I didn't realize I counted as one."

The joke failed.

Alya didn't laugh.

Instead she looked directly into my eyes.

And for a moment I regretted saying it.

Because the sadness there was overwhelming.

"Don't."

Her voice was quiet.

"What?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

Something twisted inside my chest.

I lowered my gaze.

She opened the medical kit.

Then carefully reached toward my face.

The cotton touched a cut near my cheek.

Alcohol followed.

Pain exploded instantly.

I flinched.

Alya froze.

"Sorry."

The apology came immediately.

Gentle.

Sincere.

The kind of apology people only make when they genuinely wish they could take your pain away.

"It's okay."

"No."

Her hands resumed their work.

Slow.

Careful.

"It isn't."

The room fell silent.

Only the rain tapping softly against the windows remained.

She cleaned the blood from my face.

My neck.

My hands.

The evidence of the afternoon slowly disappeared beneath cotton and antiseptic.

But the exhaustion remained.

The deeper wounds always did.

Eventually her fingers reached my side.

The moment she touched my ribs—

Pain erupted through my body.

A sharp gasp escaped me.

Alya immediately pulled back.

Her expression darkened.

Slowly, carefully, she pressed again.

And this time her face went completely pale.

"...They fractured them."

I didn't answer.

I didn't need to.

She already knew.

Alya closed her eyes.

For a moment she simply knelt there.

Breathing.

Trying to remain calm.

Trying not to let her anger consume her.

When she finally opened her eyes again, there was something dangerous hidden behind them.

Something cold.

Something fierce.

"If I ever find the people who did this..."

She stopped.

The sentence remained unfinished.

But it didn't need an ending.

I understood.

For the first time all evening...

I felt genuinely worried for Jason.

Not because he might get hurt.

But because Alya looked entirely capable of burying a body.

A few moments later she stood.

"Good news."

I raised an eyebrow.

"There is good news?"

"Mom and Kim are staying with my aunt tonight."

I blinked.

"So..."

"So it's just us."

A small smile appeared on her face.

The first genuine smile since she'd found me.

The sight felt strangely comforting.

Almost enough to make me forget the pain.

Almost.

Alya began preparing bandages.

Organizing medicine.

Focusing on practical tasks.

Yet every now and then, she'd glance toward me.

As if reassuring herself that I was still there.

That I was alive.

That she hadn't arrived too late.

And for reasons I couldn't fully explain...

that thought hurt more than anything else.

Because nobody had ever looked at me that way before.

Like losing me would matter.

Like my existence had weight.

Like I was something worth protecting.

I sat quietly while rain continued to fall beyond the windows.

For the first time since the beating...

For the first time since the humiliation.

For the first time that entire miserable day...

I felt safe.

And somehow...

That frightened me almost as much as the monsters.

The rain continued tapping softly against the windows.

A steady rhythm.

Gentle.

Almost hypnotic.

Alya had finished wrapping my ribs nearly ten minutes ago, yet neither of us had moved much afterward.

She sat beside me on the bed.

Close enough that our shoulders occasionally brushed.

Far enough that neither of us had to acknowledge it.

The room smelled faintly of vanilla, coffee, and antiseptic.

A strange combination.

Yet somehow it suited her perfectly.

I watched her organize the remaining medical supplies in silence.

Bandages.

Cotton.

Medicine bottles.

Simple things.

Normal things.

Things that belonged to ordinary lives.

Lives that weren't constantly being chased by loneliness.

Or nightmares.

Or memories.

Eventually she noticed me staring.

Again.

"What?"

I looked away immediately.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

I sighed.

There was never any point arguing with Alya.

She always won.

Not because she was smarter.

Though she probably was.

Not because she was stronger.

Though she definitely was.

She won because she somehow made surrender feel easier than resistance.

"It's just..."

I hesitated.

She waited patiently.

"What is it?"

My fingers tightened slightly against the blanket.

I wasn't sure why the question felt so difficult.

Maybe because I already knew the answer.

Or maybe because I was terrified of hearing it spoken aloud.

"I was thinking."

"Dangerous."

I rolled my eyes.

She smiled faintly.

Then her expression softened.

"What were you thinking about?"

The words escaped before I could stop them.

"Do you ever regret meeting me?"

Silence.

Complete silence.

The kind that immediately tells you you've said something wrong.

Alya stopped moving.

The small bottle in her hand remained frozen in place.

For several seconds she simply stared at me.

As if trying to determine whether I had actually asked that question.

Then she slowly placed the bottle down.

"What?"

I swallowed.

Suddenly wishing I could take the words back.

But it was too late now.

The thought had escaped.

And once thoughts escaped, they had a tendency to become real.

"I mean..."

I forced myself to continue.

"Ever since I met you, things have only gotten worse."

Alya's eyebrows slowly drew together.

I kept talking.

Because stopping felt impossible now.

"You've had to worry about me."

I stared at the floor.

"You've had to protect me."

My throat tightened.

"You've had to take care of me."

The memories flashed through my mind one after another.

The bullying.

The injuries.

The hospital visits.

The countless moments where someone had to step in because I couldn't save myself.

Because I never could.

"People get hurt because of me."

The words came out quieter.

More honest.

"I think they always have."

Alya remained completely silent.

That somehow made it worse.

So I continued.

"I don't know why everyone keeps trying."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"I don't really have anything to offer."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"I just keep causing problems."

I lowered my head.

Staring at my own hands.

At the bruises.

At the shaking.

At all the evidence of what I was.

Maybe Jason was right.

Maybe everyone would have been happier if I'd never existed at all.

The thought had lived inside me for years.

So long that it no longer felt cruel.

Just factual.

Like gravity.

Like winter.

Like death.

"I think..."

My voice cracked slightly.

"I think I'm probably just a burden."

The silence shattered.

A sharp impact struck my cheek.

I froze.

For a second my brain couldn't process what had happened.

Then realization arrived.

Alya had slapped me.

Not hard.

Not enough to hurt.

But enough.

Enough to stop every thought in my head.

Enough to make me look at her.

Her eyes were full of tears.

Actual tears.

And somehow that frightened me more than the slap.

"Don't."

Her voice trembled.

I stared.

Confused.

"Alya—"

"Don't."

She repeated it.

Stronger this time.

Her hands were shaking.

"Never say that again."

I blinked.

She was crying.

Actually crying.

The sight completely dismantled me.

Because Alya rarely cried.

And when she did...

It mattered.

"Do you understand me?"

Her voice broke.

"Never."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Ever."

Another followed.

"Say something like that again."

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know how to respond.

I didn't know why she looked so hurt.

As though my words had wounded her personally.

"I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did."

The answer came immediately.

Painfully.

"You meant every word."

Her gaze locked onto mine.

And for the first time since we'd met...

I saw genuine anger.

Not at Jason.

Not at the people who hurt me.

At me.

"You believe it."

I looked away.

That alone was enough of an answer.

Alya laughed.

A terrible sound.

Small.

Broken.

Disbelieving.

Then she wiped at her eyes.

Failed.

And tried again.

"Dark..."

Her voice softened.

But somehow became even more painful.

"Do you really think that's what you are?"

I couldn't answer.

Because I did.

Of course I did.

How could I not?

Years of isolation had carved that belief into my bones.

Every insult.

Every rejection.

Every person who looked away.

Eventually enough voices become your own.

Alya suddenly reached forward and grabbed my face.

Forcing me to look at her.

"Listen to me."

Her eyes shone with tears.

And determination.

And something far deeper.

Something terrifyingly sincere.

"You are not a burden."

Each word landed like a heartbeat.

"You are not a monster."

Another.

"You are not some problem people are forced to tolerate."

Another.

"You are not broken."

Something inside my chest tightened painfully.

Because I wanted to believe her.

God.

I wanted to believe her.

But believing was difficult.

Believing required hope.

And hope had always been dangerous.

Alya's fingers trembled slightly against my skin.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

I swallowed.

"No."

A sad smile appeared.

"I see someone who survived."

The answer surprised me.

"I see someone who keeps getting hurt."

Her voice softened further.

"And keeps standing back up."

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"I see someone kinder than he has any right to be."

The room became blurry.

I wasn't sure when my own eyes had started stinging.

"I see someone who worries more about everyone else's pain than his own."

My chest hurt.

Far more than my ribs.

"And I see someone incredibly important to me."

The words shattered something.

Not in a painful way.

In the way ice breaks when spring finally arrives.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

But inevitably.

Alya rested her forehead against mine.

Her eyes closed.

And for a moment neither of us spoke.

The rain continued outside.

The world continued outside.

But inside that room...

Everything felt still.

Safe.

Fragile.

Real.

"You matter."

Her voice was barely a whisper now.

"So much more than you realize."

I felt my throat tighten.

Dangerously.

Because for the first time in years...

I wanted to cry in front of someone.

Not because I was hurt.

Not because I was alone.

But because someone had looked directly at all the darkness inside me...

And stayed.

Alya opened her eyes.

A faint smile finally appearing through her tears.

"There you are."

I frowned slightly.

"What?"

She gently touched my chest.

"The real you."

For a moment neither of us moved.

Neither of us looked away.

And for the first time that day...

For the first time in a very long time...

The weight I'd been carrying felt just a little lighter.

Not gone.

Never gone.

But lighter.

And somehow...

That felt miraculous.

For a while neither of us spoke.

The rain continued falling beyond the window.

Soft.

Steady.

Endless.

Alya still sat beside me on the bed.

Close enough that I could feel her warmth.

Close enough that moving even slightly would cause our shoulders to touch.

Yet neither of us pulled away.

The silence should have felt awkward.

Instead it felt strangely comfortable.

Like a blanket wrapped around a wound.

Neither healing it.

Nor making it worse.

Just existing.

And somehow...

That was enough.

I stared at the rain running down the glass.

Tiny rivers of silver sliding through the darkness.

My thoughts felt slower now.

Quieter.

The horrible weight in my chest hadn't disappeared.

But Alya's words had cracked something inside it.

A tiny opening.

A place where light could enter.

And that terrified me.

Because hope was dangerous.

Hope gave you something to lose.

"You know..."

Alya's voice broke the silence.

I turned toward her.

She wasn't looking at me.

Her gaze remained fixed on the rain.

"I always hated seeing you alone."

I blinked.

"What?"

A small smile appeared on her face.

Not a happy smile.

A nostalgic one.

"When you first transferred into our school."

I frowned slightly.

"You noticed me?"

She slowly turned toward me.

And immediately gave me a look that suggested I might be the dumbest person alive.

"Dark."

"What?"

"Everybody noticed you."

That genuinely surprised me.

I had spent years convincing myself I was invisible.

The strange kid in the corner.

The one nobody wanted around.

The one people ignored until they needed someone to laugh at.

Apparently reality disagreed.

Alya laughed softly.

"You walked into class wearing black from head to toe."

I looked down at my clothes.

"I'm wearing black right now."

"Exactly."

"I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't."

Her smile widened.

"You looked like a depressed vampire."

I stared at her.

"A depressed vampire?"

"A very depressed vampire."

"That's oddly specific."

"Because it was accurate."

I sighed.

She laughed again.

And somehow...

Hearing her laugh felt better than hearing any compliment.

For a few moments she simply watched me.

Studying me.

Like she was looking at something precious.

Something fragile.

Then her smile slowly faded.

"I remember thinking you looked lonely."

My chest tightened.

I looked away immediately.

"I was fine."

"You were not."

"I was."

"You spent every lunch break by yourself."

"That doesn't prove anything."

"You sat behind the gym reading horror novels."

I hesitated.

"Okay, maybe that proves something."

"Thank you."

Alya crossed her arms triumphantly.

"I win."

"You always win."

"I know."

She seemed far too pleased with that answer.

The room grew quiet again.

Only for a moment.

Then Alya spoke.

Much softer this time.

"I used to watch you."

I froze.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

I turned toward her.

"...What?"

The realization struck her a second later.

Her face immediately turned red.

"That came out wrong."

"A little."

"I meant—"

"You secretly observed me?"

"I was concerned!"

"You stalked me."

"I did not stalk you!"

"You definitely stalked me."

She grabbed a pillow and threw it directly at my face.

I barely managed to catch it.

"You're impossible."

"You admitted it."

"I admitted nothing."

I smiled slightly.

The smallest smile.

But apparently it was enough.

Because Alya stopped arguing.

And simply stared.

My smile disappeared immediately.

"What?"

Her expression softened.

"You should do that more often."

I frowned.

"Do what?"

"Smile."

The answer came so quickly it caught me off guard.

My chest tightened again.

That painful warmth returning.

"I smile."

"No."

She shook her head.

"You smirk."

"...There's a difference?"

"A huge difference."

I wasn't convinced.

But she seemed absolutely certain.

Alya slowly looked away.

Toward the rain.

Toward the darkness beyond the glass.

"When you smile..."

Her voice became quieter.

"The world feels a little less sad."

For a moment I forgot how to breathe.

The room felt warmer.

Smaller.

My heartbeat became annoyingly noticeable.

Nobody had ever said something like that to me before.

Nobody.

And judging by Alya's expression...

She hadn't planned to say it either.

Neither of us spoke for several seconds.

Then she sighed.

A long, defeated sigh.

"Well."

She leaned backward against the bed.

"I've already embarrassed myself enough."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

"You've been embarrassing yourself all evening."

"That's because you're difficult."

"I got beaten unconscious yesterday."

"Exactly."

She pointed directly at me.

"You're emotionally difficult."

I stared.

She stared back.

Then both of us laughed.

A real laugh.

Not forced.

Not hollow.

Just genuine.

And for a brief moment...

The pain in my ribs disappeared.

The bruises disappeared.

The loneliness disappeared.

Everything disappeared.

Except her.

When the laughter finally faded, Alya looked at me again.

The amusement slowly leaving her eyes.

Replaced by something deeper.

Something infinitely more dangerous.

The kind of look that changed lives.

The kind that made turning away impossible.

"Dark."

My heartbeat immediately accelerated.

"Yeah?"

She hesitated.

Which surprised me.

Alya rarely hesitated.

She was usually fearless.

Confident.

Certain.

But now...

Now she seemed nervous.

And that somehow scared me more than anything else.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the blanket.

Then loosened again.

She took a breath.

And finally spoke.

"I love you."

The world stopped.

Not metaphorically.

Not poetically.

Actually stopped.

The rain vanished.

The room vanished.

Time itself seemed to collapse inward.

Leaving only those three words.

I love you.

My mind went completely blank.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Alya blinked.

Then blinked again.

Waiting.

My silence stretched.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Her expression slowly transformed.

First confusion.

Then concern.

Then panic.

"Oh God."

I was still frozen.

"Oh no."

My brain had disconnected from reality.

"Dark."

Nothing.

"Dark, say something."

Still nothing.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"I broke him."

I finally managed to blink.

Once.

Twice.

Then I pointed at myself.

Intelligently.

Like an idiot.

"Me?"

Alya stared.

"...Yes."

Another pause.

Several more seconds passed.

Then I delivered perhaps the most sophisticated response in human history.

"Oh."

She immediately threw another pillow at me.

It hit my chest.

Painfully.

I winced.

She panicked.

Then realized I was trying not to laugh.

Then she panicked for a different reason.

"You idiot!"

I couldn't stop the smile this time.

"I didn't know what to say."

"You could have said literally anything."

"I was trying."

"Your brain stopped working."

"Correct."

She covered her face again.

Mortified.

Meanwhile I sat there trying to process the fact that Alya had just confessed her love to me.

Directly.

Openly.

Without hesitation.

Without shame.

As though it were the most natural thing in the world.

And somehow...

That felt impossible.

Because people like me weren't supposed to be loved.

At least that's what I'd always believed.

Yet here she was.

Looking at me as though I were worth choosing.

Worth protecting.

Worth staying for.

The realization hit harder than any punch Jason had ever thrown.

And for the first time in years...

I felt like I could breathe.

Really breathe.

Not survive.

Not endure.

Not simply exist.

Breathe.

Alya slowly lowered her hands.

Her eyes searched mine.

Uncertain.

Vulnerable.

Something inside my chest ached.

Because I never wanted to see that uncertainty there.

Not when she looked at me.

Not when she was the one person who had stayed.

"Alya."

She froze.

"Yeah?"

I swallowed.

Trying to organize feelings I barely understood myself.

Then I told her the only truth I could find.

"When I'm with you..."

Her eyes widened slightly.

I took a slow breath.

And continued.

"The world feels easier to survive."

Silence.

Then a smile.

Small.

Beautiful.

And heartbreakingly sincere.

Alya laughed softly.

A tear escaped one corner of her eye.

And she whispered:

"For now..."

She moved closer.

Close enough that our foreheads almost touched.

"That's more than enough."

For several seconds neither of us moved.

The rain continued tapping softly against the windows.

The room remained warm.

Quiet.

Safe.

And somehow that made everything worse.

Because now I was painfully aware of her.

Of the small distance between us.

Of her eyes.

Of the way she kept looking at me like I was something worth holding onto.

I didn't know how to deal with that.

Alya seemed to notice my growing panic.

A smile slowly appeared on her face.

There it is.

"What?"

I immediately regretted asking.

"That look."

I frowned.

"What look?"

"The one you always make when you're overwhelmed."

I looked away.

"I'm not overwhelmed."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm perfectly calm."

Alya raised an eyebrow.

"Dark."

"What?"

"Your ears are red."

My hand immediately flew to the side of my head.

She burst out laughing.

The traitor in my own body had exposed me.

"See?"

She pointed accusingly.

"Overwhelmed."

I groaned.

"This is humiliation."

"This is adorable."

"Those are not the same thing."

"They are for me."

I covered part of my face with one hand.

Alya looked far too pleased with herself.

The worst part was that she wasn't even trying to win.

She simply did.

Naturally.

Effortlessly.

Like gravity.

Eventually her laughter softened.

Then faded.

The room became quiet again.

But this silence felt different.

Heavier.

More fragile.

The kind of silence where both people are aware that something important is about to happen.

Alya looked down briefly.

Then back at me.

Her expression had changed.

The teasing was gone.

The confidence too.

For the first time that night...

She looked nervous.

And somehow that frightened me more than anything else.

Because Alya wasn't supposed to be nervous.

Not her.

Not the girl who could argue with teachers.

Not the girl who could walk into any room and own it within seconds.

Yet here she was.

Looking at me as though my next words mattered.

As though I mattered.

"Dark."

My heart immediately sped up.

"Yeah?"

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then smiled softly.

"You know..."

Her fingers tightened slightly around the blanket.

"I was really scared yesterday."

I blinked.

The sudden change in topic caught me off guard.

"When?"

"When I saw you."

Her voice lowered.

"When I found you on the street."

The warmth in the room seemed to fade slightly.

I remembered it.

The rain.

The blood.

The look on her face.

The way her hands had trembled.

"I thought..."

She swallowed.

Then looked away.

"I thought I was too late."

Something twisted painfully inside my chest.

"Alya—"

"No."

She shook her head.

"I need to say this."

I fell silent.

The seriousness in her voice made it impossible to interrupt.

She stared at her hands for a few moments.

Then continued.

"When I saw how hurt you were..."

Her voice cracked.

Just slightly.

"It felt like someone reached inside my chest and crushed my heart."

I couldn't breathe.

Not because of my ribs.

Because of her words.

She laughed weakly.

A sad little sound.

"I hated it."

The tears gathering in her eyes reflected the dim light of the room.

"I hated seeing you like that."

I looked down.

Unable to meet her gaze.

Because guilt had always been easier for me than affection.

Much easier.

"Alya..."

My voice came out barely above a whisper.

"You shouldn't worry about me that much."

The moment I said it, I knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Her expression changed immediately.

Not anger.

Something worse.

Hurt.

"And there you go again."

I froze.

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Do you even hear yourself?"

I didn't answer.

Because honestly...

No.

Not really.

Alya sighed.

Then reached out and gently took my hand.

The contact alone nearly stopped my heart.

Her fingers were warm.

Soft.

Real.

"Dark."

Her voice was quiet.

But firm.

"You matter."

My throat tightened.

"You matter to me."

I looked away immediately.

The words hurt.

Not because they were painful.

Because I wanted to believe them.

And believing them was terrifying.

Alya squeezed my hand.

"You matter to Kim."

Another squeeze.

"You matter to Minho."

Another.

"You matter to Won Ho."

Her eyes softened.

"And you matter to me more than you realize."

The room became impossibly quiet.

The rain outside sounded distant now.

Muted.

Like the entire world had stepped back.

Giving us this moment.

Neither of us spoke.

We didn't need to.

The warmth of her hand was enough.

For a while.

Then Alya suddenly smiled.

A mischievous smile.

A dangerous smile.

The kind that usually meant trouble.

I immediately became suspicious.

"What?"

She tilted her head.

"What?"

"You're planning something."

"No."

"That's a lie."

"A little."

I sighed.

She laughed.

Then leaned closer.

My heartbeat immediately accelerated.

Dangerously.

"Alya."

"Yes?"

"Why are you moving closer?"

She blinked innocently.

"I'm sitting."

"You weren't sitting there before."

"I'm relocating."

"That's not a thing."

"It is now."

Every inch she moved felt like an attack on my nervous system.

By the time she stopped, our shoulders were touching.

My brain ceased functioning.

Completely.

Alya noticed instantly.

And smiled.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"He's gone."

I frowned.

"Who's gone?"

"Your brain."

"That's rude."

"It's accurate."

I wanted to argue.

I truly did.

But then she looked at me.

Really looked at me.

And every intelligent thought abandoned ship.

Her eyes were beautiful.

Not in the dramatic way books described beauty.

Not stars.

Not oceans.

Not galaxies.

Just Alya.

And somehow that felt bigger.

She seemed to notice the exact moment my defenses collapsed.

Because her expression softened immediately.

The teasing disappeared.

Leaving only tenderness.

Something warm.

Something terrifying.

"Dark."

My name sounded different when she said it.

Gentler.

Almost precious.

My heartbeat hurt.

"Yeah?"

She didn't answer right away.

Instead she slowly lifted one hand.

And touched my cheek.

Everything stopped.

The room.

The rain.

Time itself.

Her thumb brushed lightly against my skin.

A simple gesture.

Nothing more.

Yet it felt more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced.

My breathing became uneven.

Alya's eyes searched mine.

Waiting.

Asking.

Giving me every chance to move away.

I didn't.

Couldn't.

Wouldn't.

The distance between us disappeared little by little.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if we were both afraid of breaking something fragile.

Something important.

My heart pounded so hard I was convinced she could hear it.

Maybe she could.

Because she smiled.

Just a little.

Then closed the remaining distance.

Our first kiss was clumsy.

Awkward.

Gentle.

Perfect.

For a moment neither of us seemed to know what we were doing.

We simply existed there.

Caught between nervousness and wonder.

Between reality and something that felt almost dreamlike.

Her lips were warm.

Soft.

And impossibly real.

When we finally pulled apart, neither of us spoke.

We just stared at each other.

Completely stunned.

Alya blinked first.

Then laughed quietly.

A breathless little laugh.

"Well."

My brain was still trying to recover.

"What?"

"That was my first kiss."

I stared.

"...Mine too."

For one second she looked surprised.

Then she laughed harder.

And somehow that made everything better.

The tension disappeared.

The nervousness softened.

The fear faded.

Leaving behind something simpler.

Something warmer.

Alya leaned forward until our foreheads touched.

A smile still lingering on her lips.

"You know what?"

"What?"

Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I think I like being your first."

My face immediately caught fire.

She laughed again.

And for the first time in years...

The sound of someone else's happiness felt like home.

For the next ten minutes my brain remained completely unusable.

I sat on Alya's bed staring at absolutely nothing while my heart continued trying to escape through my ribs.

Unfortunately.

Alya noticed.

And she found it hilarious.

"You still look traumatized."

I slowly turned toward her.

"You kissed me."

"Correct."

She seemed very proud of herself.

"You can't just say 'correct' like that."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not helping."

Alya laughed.

A real laugh.

Bright.

Warm.

The kind that made entire rooms feel lighter.

I hated how much I liked hearing it.

Actually...

That was a lie.

I loved hearing it.

And somehow that realization was more frightening than the kiss itself.

Alya rested her chin on her hand.

Still staring at me.

Still smiling.

Still making recovery impossible.

"You know," she said.

"I think breaking your brain was worth it."

"My brain was already broken."

"Good point."

"That wasn't supposed to be agreement."

"Too late."

I sighed.

She looked far too pleased with herself.

Then she leaned slightly closer.

Again.

Which immediately restarted my suffering.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You're doing it again."

She blinked.

"Doing what?"

"Moving closer."

"I'm sitting."

"You keep weaponizing basic actions."

Alya laughed so hard she nearly fell backward.

"Weaponizing?"

"Yes."

"You're ridiculous."

"I was perfectly functional before meeting you."

"That sounds like a lie."

"It absolutely is."

That only made her laugh harder.

For a while neither of us said anything.

The room felt different now.

Lighter.

Warmer.

As though something had shifted between us.

Not dramatically.

Not suddenly.

Just enough.

Enough to make everything feel softer.

Safer.

For the first time in a very long time...

I wasn't waiting for something bad to happen.

That realization struck me unexpectedly.

Because I always waited.

For disappointment.

For abandonment.

For pain.

Those things had become predictable.

Reliable.

But happiness?

Happiness always felt temporary.

Like a visitor.

Something that never stayed.

Yet sitting there beside Alya...

I found myself wondering what it would be like if it did stay.

If moments like this could become normal.

The thought was dangerous.

And beautiful.

Alya eventually stood up and stretched.

The oversized sweater she wore slipped slightly off one shoulder.

I immediately looked away.

Of course she noticed.

She noticed everything.

"Dark."

"No."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were about to."

She looked genuinely impressed.

"You know me too well."

"Self-preservation."

She walked toward the door.

Then stopped.

Turned around.

And smiled.

A dangerous smile.

The kind that usually preceded disaster.

"I'm hungry."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Why do I feel threatened?"

"You should."

"That's concerning."

"I'm ordering pizza."

I stared.

Then blinked.

Then stared again.

"That's the threat?"

"You underestimate the importance of pizza."

"I really don't."

She grabbed her phone from the desk.

"What do you want?"

"Whatever's easiest."

"Wrong answer."

I sighed.

"I don't care."

"Wrong answer again."

"What answer am I supposed to give?"

"A specific pizza."

"This feels like a test."

"It is."

I groaned.

Alya smiled victoriously.

"Choose."

I thought for a moment.

Then shrugged.

"Pepperoni."

She looked disappointed.

"That's so boring."

"It's pizza."

"It's uninspired."

"It's food."

She looked personally offended.

"I can't believe I fell in love with someone this uncultured."

I pointed at her dramatically.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"Regret."

Alya laughed.

Then looked at her phone.

"I'll get Hawaiian."

Silence.

I stared at her.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like I had just discovered something horrifying.

"...You're one of them."

She frowned.

"One of who?"

"The pineapple people."

"The pineapple people?"

I nodded gravely.

"Monsters."

Alya gasped.

Actually gasped.

"You take that back."

"No."

"Dark."

"No."

"Pineapple belongs on pizza."

"It absolutely does not."

"It does."

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"It doesn't."

She grabbed a pillow.

I immediately pointed at my ribs.

"Careful."

The pillow stopped midair.

Alya narrowed her eyes.

"That's cheating."

"It's survival."

"You are weaponizing your injuries."

"I'm adapting."

"You're impossible."

"And yet here we are."

For some reason that made her smile.

Not laugh.

Smile.

A small one.

A quiet one.

The kind that carried more emotion than words.

The pizza arrived forty minutes later.

And somehow...

That became one of the happiest nights of my life.

Not because anything extraordinary happened.

Nothing extraordinary happened.

That was the point.

We ate pizza.

Argued about movies.

Mocked terrible horror clichés.

And spent nearly twenty minutes debating whether characters in scary films were genuinely stupid or simply cursed by bad writing.

Alya insisted most horror movies would end in ten minutes if people communicated properly.

I argued that communication would destroy half the genre.

She called that a weak defense.

I called her biased.

She called me dramatic.

I called her a pineapple criminal.

The argument remained unresolved.

Somewhere around midnight we started watching old horror films.

Most of them weren't actually scary.

At least not to me.

But Alya reacted to every jump scare as if the apocalypse had begun.

The first scream caught me completely off guard.

I nearly fell off the bed.

She immediately pointed at the television.

"That wasn't fair."

"There was literally music warning us."

"It was sudden."

"The soundtrack spent thirty seconds preparing you."

"It was emotionally sudden."

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

And for a moment...

Neither of us noticed.

Then Alya went completely silent.

I frowned.

"What?"

She stared at me.

Nothing else.

Just stared.

"Alya."

She smiled softly.

"You laughed."

The realization hit me a second later.

And she was right.

Not a fake laugh.

Not a polite one.

A real one.

The kind that happened naturally.

Without effort.

Without thought.

Without pain hiding underneath it.

Something strange tightened inside my chest.

Alya leaned her head against my shoulder.

Gently.

Naturally.

As though it belonged there.

Neither of us commented on it.

We didn't need to.

Outside, rain continued falling.

Softly.

Steadily.

The city lights glowed through the wet glass.

The movie kept playing.

And for the first time in years...

The world didn't feel hostile.

It didn't feel cruel.

It didn't feel broken.

It simply existed.

Quiet.

Warm.

Peaceful.

I looked down slightly.

Alya had fallen half asleep against me.

Her breathing slow.

Steady.

Trusting.

The sight hurt more than my bruises.

Because it made me realize how badly I'd wanted something like this.

Something simple.

Something ordinary.

Something human.

Not power.

Not answers.

Not destiny.

Just this.

A warm room.

A rainy night.

Someone beside me.

Someone who chose to stay.

I carefully rested my head against hers.

Closing my eyes.

Listening to the rain.

Listening to her breathing.

And for one fragile moment...

I allowed myself to believe happiness might be real.

Even if only for a night.

The movie ended sometime after midnight.

Neither of us paid attention to the ending.

Not really.

The killer was revealed.

People screamed.

Someone survived.

Someone didn't.

The credits rolled.

And yet neither of us moved.

Alya remained curled against my side beneath the blankets.

Half asleep.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Safe.

The room had grown darker over the past hour.

The rain still whispered against the windows.

Soft and steady.

Almost like a lullaby.

I stared at the television screen long after it had gone black.

Not because I was thinking about the movie.

Because I was thinking about this.

About us.

About how absurdly fragile happiness felt.

Alya shifted slightly beside me.

Her head slipped lower onto my shoulder.

"You know..."

Her voice sounded sleepy.

Barely awake.

"Hm?"

"I don't think you're allowed to leave anymore."

I glanced down.

"What?"

She smiled without opening her eyes.

"I'm keeping you."

I sighed.

"That sounds illegal."

"It probably is."

"Good to know."

"I'll risk it."

I couldn't help smiling.

Somehow every ridiculous thing she said sounded completely reasonable when she said it.

Alya stretched one arm lazily before wrapping it around my waist.

Holding me a little closer.

The gesture was so natural that it caught me off guard.

I froze immediately.

Of course I did.

Alya noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"Relax."

"You say that like it's easy."

"It is easy."

"It absolutely isn't."

She finally opened one eye.

A sleepy smile appeared on her face.

"You're cute."

I covered my face with one hand.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The bullying."

Alya laughed softly.

The sound vibrated against my shoulder.

And somehow that tiny detail felt important enough to remember forever.

The room gradually became quieter.

Neither of us spoke much after that.

There wasn't anything left to say.

Not because conversation had ended.

Because silence was enough.

For once.

I wasn't afraid of it.

That realization lingered in my mind.

Most of my life had been filled with lonely silence.

Empty apartments.

Empty hallways.

Empty nights.

Silence had always felt like proof that nobody was there.

Proof that nobody cared.

Proof that I existed alone.

But this silence was different.

This silence breathed.

This silence was warm.

It carried the sound of Alya's heartbeat when she rested against me.

The sound of rain beyond the glass.

The sound of two people existing in the same small space without needing anything more.

And somehow...

That felt miraculous.

Eventually Alya sat up slightly.

I frowned.

"What?"

She looked at me for a few seconds.

Longer than necessary.

Like she was trying to memorize something.

Her expression softened.

"Can I ask you something?"

My chest tightened slightly.

"Sure."

For a moment she hesitated.

Which was unusual.

Alya rarely hesitated.

Then she looked down at her hands.

And spoke quietly.

"When you think about the future..."

The question caught me off guard.

"When I think about the future?"

She nodded.

"What do you see?"

The answer should have been simple.

But it wasn't.

Because the truth was embarrassing.

The truth was that I usually didn't think about the future at all.

Not seriously.

I'd spent so much time surviving that planning ahead often felt pointless.

Dangerous, even.

Dreams had a habit of becoming disappointments.

So eventually I'd stopped making them.

I stared toward the dark television screen.

Thinking.

Trying.

Searching for an answer.

And finding nothing.

Alya noticed immediately.

Her smile faded slightly.

"You don't see anything, do you?"

I lowered my eyes.

"No."

The word came out quieter than I intended.

She didn't look surprised.

Only sad.

And somehow that hurt more.

Alya looked away.

Toward the rain-covered window.

"I used to think about the future all the time."

I listened.

"I had plans."

A small smile appeared.

"The usual ones."

"What kind?"

She laughed softly.

"University."

She counted on her fingers.

"A career."

Another finger.

"A house."

Another.

"A family."

I stayed silent.

Because hearing someone talk about a future always felt strange.

Like listening to a language I never learned.

Alya turned back toward me.

Then gently poked my forehead.

"You should have plans too."

"I don't know how."

The honesty escaped before I could stop it.

Alya froze.

Then her expression softened completely.

"Oh."

I looked away.

Embarrassed.

"I guess that sounds pathetic."

"It doesn't."

"It kind of does."

"It doesn't."

Her voice became firmer.

More certain.

"Do you know what I think?"

I shook my head.

Alya smiled.

"I think nobody ever gave you permission to imagine one."

The words hit harder than they should have.

Because they felt true.

Painfully true.

For several moments neither of us spoke.

Then Alya reached for my hand.

Interlocking her fingers with mine.

"I'll give you permission."

I stared at her.

Unable to speak.

She smiled.

A little shy.

A little embarrassed.

And completely sincere.

"Imagine one."

My throat tightened.

The rain seemed louder now.

Or maybe my heart was.

Alya squeezed my hand gently.

"Just one thing."

I swallowed.

"What kind of thing?"

"Anything."

Her smile became softer.

"Happiness."

The word lingered between us.

Simple.

Small.

Almost frightening.

Because happiness felt less realistic than monsters.

Less believable than ghosts.

Yet somehow...

Sitting beside her...

I wanted to try.

Just once.

So I closed my eyes.

And imagined something.

Not greatness.

Not power.

Not destiny.

Just this.

A rainy night.

A warm room.

And someone beside me.

Someone who chose to stay.

When I opened my eyes again, Alya was watching me.

"What did you see?"

I hesitated.

Then answered honestly.

"You."

The room became very quiet.

Alya blinked once.

Then twice.

And suddenly her face turned red.

Bright red.

I immediately regretted speaking.

"Sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I don't know."

She laughed.

A nervous laugh this time.

A genuine one.

And somehow seeing her flustered felt strangely satisfying.

For once I wasn't the only one suffering.

"Idiot."

She looked away.

Still smiling.

Then slowly rested her head against my chest.

Listening to my heartbeat.

The rhythm immediately accelerated.

Alya smiled against my shirt.

"I noticed."

"Please don't."

"Too late."

I groaned.

She laughed.

Then closed her eyes again.

The room gradually grew quieter.

Sleepier.

Softer.

The rain never stopped.

Neither did the warmth.

Minutes passed.

Maybe longer.

Neither of us knew.

Eventually Alya spoke again.

So quietly I almost didn't hear her.

"Dark."

"Hm?"

She didn't lift her head.

Didn't move.

Just whispered the words into the silence.

"Stay with me for a long time."

My chest tightened.

Not painfully.

Something else.

Something deeper.

Because there was fear hidden inside that request.

A fear she rarely showed.

Fear of loss.

Fear of loneliness.

Fear that this fragile happiness might disappear.

Just like everything else.

I looked down at her.

At the girl who had stitched my wounds.

Who had cried for me.

Who had kissed me.

Who somehow looked at me as if I was worth saving.

And for the first time in my life...

I wanted to believe in tomorrow.

So I carefully wrapped an arm around her.

Holding her a little closer.

And answered with the most honest words I had.

"I'll try."

Alya smiled.

A small smile.

A sleepy smile.

A happy one.

Then her breathing gradually slowed.

Until she finally fell asleep.

I remained awake for a while longer.

Listening to the rain.

Listening to her heartbeat.

Listening to the quiet.

The world felt impossibly distant.

Like all the cruelty had been left outside.

Beyond the walls.

Beyond the windows.

Beyond this room.

And eventually...

For the first time in years...

I fell asleep feeling safe.

Neither of us knew it then.

But that night would become a memory.

A precious one.

The kind people cling to when darkness comes.

Because when morning arrived...

Everything would change.

And the first body would be waiting.

The first thing I felt was warmth.

The second was pain.

A sharp ache immediately reminded me that several of my ribs had recently been introduced to violence.

The third thing I felt...

Was an arm wrapped around my waist.

My eyes opened slowly.

For a few seconds I couldn't remember where I was.

The room looked unfamiliar.

Soft gray light filtered through the curtains.

The television was off.

The rain had finally stopped.

Then memory returned.

The movies.

The pizza.

The conversation.

The kiss.

My brain immediately stopped functioning.

Because Alya was still asleep.

Curled against me.

Her head rested on my chest.

One arm wrapped around my waist.

One leg tangled with mine beneath the blanket.

And somehow...

She had managed to claim approximately ninety percent of the bed during the night.

I remained completely motionless.

Not because I didn't want to move.

Because I was terrified of accidentally waking her.

For a moment I simply watched.

The steady rise and fall of her breathing.

The faint strands of hair falling across her face.

The peaceful expression she wore while sleeping.

She looked younger like this.

Softer.

More vulnerable.

Nothing like the terrifying woman who had repeatedly threatened me with affection the previous evening.

The thought almost made me smile.

Almost.

Then Alya shifted slightly.

Her forehead pressed more firmly against my chest.

And my heart immediately betrayed me.

The sudden acceleration was impossible to ignore.

Apparently it wasn't impossible for her to notice either.

Because one eye slowly opened.

She looked up at me.

Blinking sleepily.

Then smiled.

A small smile.

A warm smile.

A dangerous smile.

"Good morning."

My brain surrendered instantly.

"G-Good morning."

Alya's smile widened.

"You still do that."

"Do what?"

"Short-circuit every time I talk to you."

I groaned.

She laughed softly.

The sound was still rough with sleep.

And somehow that made it worse.

"You look happy."

I frowned.

"I do?"

"Very."

Her smile softened.

"You should do it more often."

Something tightened unexpectedly inside my chest.

Because nobody had ever said something like that to me before.

Not once.

As if happiness was something I deserved.

As if it belonged to me.

Alya noticed my silence.

Her expression became gentler.

Then she slowly sat up.

The oversized shirt she wore slipped slightly off one shoulder.

I immediately looked away.

Unfortunately.

Alya noticed that too.

"Oh?"

"No."

"Oh?"

"Don't."

She laughed.

"Why are you looking away?"

"You know why."

"I don't."

"You absolutely do."

Alya tilted her head.

Feigning innocence.

A performance so terrible it should have been illegal.

"I think you're imagining things."

"I'm not imagining anything."

"Maybe you are."

"Alya."

"Dark."

I pointed accusingly at her.

She looked delighted.

The worst part was that she enjoyed every second of this.

Eventually she stretched her arms above her head and stood up.

Then immediately froze.

Her eyes moved to my side.

To the bandages wrapped around my ribs.

The playful mood vanished.

Just like that.

Reality returned.

"Oh."

The single word carried more sadness than it should have.

I followed her gaze.

The bruises.

The injuries.

The reminder.

Yesterday.

Jason.

The alley.

Blood.

Pain.

The warmth of the morning suddenly felt more fragile.

Alya sat beside me again.

This time carefully.

Gently.

Her fingers lightly touched the edge of one bandage.

"How much does it hurt?"

I considered lying.

Then remembered who I was talking to.

"Quite a bit."

She nodded.

As if she already knew.

Because she probably did.

"You shouldn't go to school today."

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The doctor voice."

Alya frowned.

"The doctor voice exists because you're injured."

"The doctor voice is scary."

"The doctor voice is correct."

I sighed dramatically.

She remained completely unmoved.

"You almost got killed."

"I didn't almost get killed."

Alya stared at me.

I stared back.

Neither of us spoke.

After several seconds I lost automatically.

"Okay, maybe a little."

"A little?"

"A moderate amount."

She crossed her arms.

I looked away.

Defeated.

Alya sighed.

Then unexpectedly reached forward and brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

Such a simple gesture.

Yet it completely destroyed my ability to think.

Again.

She smiled.

"You really are terrible at receiving affection."

"That's not true."

"It is."

"It isn't."

"Dark."

"...Maybe a little."

She laughed.

Victory achieved.

Alya stood up once more.

This time heading toward the door.

"I'm making breakfast."

I blinked.

"You're cooking?"

She turned around.

Offended.

"Of course I'm cooking."

"I suddenly fear for my life."

"Rude."

"I've seen medical students survive on caffeine and bad decisions."

"We're very efficient."

"That's not reassuring."

She pointed at me.

"Stay here."

"I wasn't planning on running."

"Good."

Then she smiled.

A softer smile.

One that made something inside me ache.

Not painfully.

Just enough to remind me how much this mattered.

How much she mattered.

And then she left the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence returned.

I stared at the ceiling for a while.

Listening to distant sounds from the kitchen.

Cabinets opening.

Footsteps.

Alya humming to herself.

Normal sounds.

Ordinary sounds.

For some reason they felt precious.

I slowly sat up.

Ignoring the protest from my ribs.

The morning light seemed brighter now.

The storm had passed.

The city beyond the window looked calm.

Peaceful.

Almost beautiful.

And yet...

Something felt wrong.

I frowned slightly.

The sensation was difficult to describe.

A pressure.

A faint discomfort.

Like remembering a nightmare without remembering its details.

I glanced toward the window.

The sky was gray.

Clouds still covered most of the horizon.

For a brief moment I thought I saw movement on a distant rooftop.

A silhouette.

Tall.

Motionless.

Watching.

I blinked.

And it was gone.

My stomach tightened.

The unease lingered.

Small.

Subtle.

Persistent.

Then Alya shouted from downstairs.

"Dark!"

I looked toward the door.

"Yeah?"

"Do you prefer waffles or pancakes?"

The question was so absurdly normal that it shattered the tension immediately.

I laughed.

A real laugh.

The strange feeling faded.

At least for a moment.

"Waffles."

"Correct answer."

I smiled.

Then slowly stood from the bed.

The pain in my ribs reminded me that yesterday had been real.

But somehow...

The happiness felt real too.

And for the first time in years...

I found myself looking forward to the day ahead.

I had no idea how stupid that thought was.

Because less than two hours later...

Police cars would surround the school.

A body would be found.

And the darkness would finally begin calling people by name.

Breakfast felt too normal.

And somehow...

That was exactly what made it strange.

Waffles.

Orange juice.

Fresh coffee.

Morning light filtering through the windows.

Alya moving around the kitchen in an oversized sweatshirt while humming quietly to herself.

It felt like a scene from somebody else's life.

A life that had never belonged to me.

"Why do you keep staring at me?"

Alya's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I blinked.

"What?"

She placed another waffle onto my plate.

"You've been watching me for five minutes."

I immediately looked away.

"I wasn't watching you."

"Yes, you were."

"I was thinking."

"About me."

"No."

"Dark."

"...Maybe a little."

Alya smiled triumphantly.

"I knew it."

I sighed and took a sip of juice.

My ribs still hurt whenever I moved too quickly, but the painkillers were helping.

At least enough to pretend everything was normal.

Alya sat across from me.

Resting her chin on her hands.

"What are your plans today?"

"School."

Her expression immediately darkened.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Alya."

"You were beaten half to death yesterday."

"That's an exaggeration."

She raised an eyebrow.

I looked away.

Again.

Alya sighed.

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

"By who?"

"Mostly you."

"Good."

Despite myself, I laughed.

For a little while longer, everything felt ordinary.

Comfortable.

Safe.

The kind of morning people remember years later.

The kind they don't realize they're going to lose.

Eventually Alya insisted on checking my injuries one more time before we left.

Her fingers carefully adjusted the bandages around my ribs.

"If the pain gets worse, call me."

"Yes, Mom."

She gave me a look.

"I can stop kissing you if you prefer."

"I never said that."

A smile immediately appeared on her face.

"That's what I thought."

Twenty minutes later we were driving toward school.

The city still looked damp from the storm.

Clouds hung low across the sky.

The roads glistened beneath the pale morning light.

For a while neither of us spoke.

I watched buildings pass by through the window.

People walking to work.

Students crossing intersections.

Cars moving through traffic.

Normal.

Everything looked normal.

Yet the uneasy feeling from earlier hadn't disappeared.

If anything...

It had grown worse.

Like a splinter buried beneath skin.

Something small.

Something impossible to ignore.

Alya noticed me rubbing my temple.

"Headache?"

"A little."

She frowned.

"Again?"

I nodded.

She looked worried.

I looked away.

Because I didn't know how to explain it.

How could I explain a feeling that wasn't pain?

Not exactly.

It felt more like pressure.

Like something was quietly waiting behind a locked door inside my mind.

And every hour that passed...

The door seemed a little weaker.

Alya eventually pulled into the school parking lot.

Then everything changed.

Immediately.

Police cars.

Ambulances.

Yellow tape.

Crowds of students gathered outside the main entrance.

Dozens of voices overlapping.

Confused.

Afraid.

Excited.

The atmosphere felt wrong.

Like stepping into a room seconds after an argument ended.

My stomach dropped.

Alya noticed it too.

"What the hell happened?"

Neither of us moved for a second.

Then we got out of the car.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I felt it.

The air.

Cold.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

Something wrong.

Students stood in clusters.

Whispering.

Recording videos.

Trying to learn what had happened.

Teachers moved through the crowd attempting to maintain order.

Nobody looked calm.

Nobody looked normal.

A siren wailed somewhere in the distance.

Then something landed near my shoe.

I looked down.

A folded piece of paper.

White.

Wet.

Stained dark around the edges.

My heart skipped a beat.

Because I recognized the smell immediately.

Black roses.

The same scent.

The same impossible scent.

Slowly I bent down and picked it up.

The paper felt damp.

Sticky.

My fingers trembled slightly.

I unfolded it.

And saw words written in blood.

Go to the science laboratory.

For a moment the world became silent.

No.

No.

Not again.

I stared at the message.

My pulse quickened.

The letters seemed darker than blood should be.

Almost black.

Like dried ink mixed with something alive.

"Dark?"

Alya stepped closer.

I folded the paper immediately.

Too quickly.

Too suspiciously.

She noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"What is it?"

I hesitated.

I could lie.

I could throw the note away.

I could pretend none of this was happening.

But that feeling inside my chest...

That horrible certainty...

Told me something terrible would happen if I ignored it.

"I need to check something."

Alya frowned.

"What?"

"I don't know."

That wasn't entirely true.

Deep down...

I already knew.

I just didn't want to admit it.

Alya crossed her arms.

"I'm coming with you."

"Alya—"

"No."

There was no hesitation in her voice.

"No chance I'm letting you wander around alone after yesterday."

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because arguing was pointless.

And because part of me was relieved she was there.

Together we entered the main building.

The noise from outside faded immediately.

The interior felt unnaturally quiet.

Not empty.

Just quiet.

Too quiet.

The fluorescent lights overhead seemed dimmer than usual.

The air felt colder.

And there was a smell.

Metallic.

Sharp.

Familiar.

Blood.

My pace slowed.

The science laboratory sat at the far end of the hallway.

The door was slightly open.

And something dark had pooled beneath it.

Alya saw it too.

Her expression changed instantly.

"Dark..."

I couldn't answer.

Every instinct inside me screamed to turn around.

To leave.

To run.

Instead I kept walking.

One step.

Then another.

My ribs hurt.

My heart pounded.

The smell grew stronger.

The dark liquid beneath the door spread across the floor like spilled paint.

Except paint didn't smell like iron.

Paint didn't make your stomach twist.

When we finally reached the door, I stopped.

For one brief moment.

One final moment.

The world still made sense.

Then I pushed the door open.

And everything shattered.

Jason's body was lying on one of the laboratory tables.

Or what remained of it.

My lungs forgot how to breathe.

His skin was gone.

Not entirely.

But enough.

Large sections of flesh had been peeled away.

Opened.

Displayed.

Like pages torn from a book.

His ribs were exposed.

Muscle hung in ragged strips.

Blood covered every surface.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part...

Were the symbols.

Thousands of them.

Carved into his flesh.

Black and violet runes covering every exposed inch of skin.

Twisting.

Moving.

Breathing.

They weren't drawn.

They were alive.

Alya recoiled immediately.

"Oh my God—"

Her voice broke.

She stumbled backward.

One hand covering her mouth.

The color vanished from her face.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't blink.

Couldn't think.

Because the runes were moving.

Actually moving.

Shifting beneath the blood.

Crawling through exposed muscle.

Like worms made of language.

And somehow...

I could understand them.

Not all of them.

Only fragments.

But fragments were enough.

HEIR.

GATE.

AWAKEN.

The words echoed directly inside my skull.

My vision blurred.

Pain exploded behind my eyes.

"This isn't human..."

My voice barely existed.

A whisper.

A broken thing.

And then I realized something far worse.

Alya wasn't reacting to the runes.

She saw the corpse.

The blood.

The mutilation.

But not the symbols.

Not the words.

Not the movement.

Only I could.

Only me.

The realization struck harder than the body itself.

Because it meant one thing.

Something in that room wanted to be seen.

And for some reason...

It had chosen me.

Outside the laboratory, distant voices began shouting.

Teachers.

Police.

Students.

The world rushing toward the horror that waited inside.

But I barely heard them.

Because the runes continued moving.

And deep beneath their whispers...

Something whispered back.

Something old.

Something patient.

Something that already knew my name.

The laboratory erupted into chaos only minutes later.

Teachers.

Police officers.

Paramedics.

Questions.

Shouting.

The entire school seemed to collapse into panic at once.

Yet somehow...

The only thing I could focus on were the runes.

They continued moving.

Twisting beneath Jason's ruined flesh.

Breathing.

Living.

Every second I looked at them, the pressure behind my eyes grew worse.

As if something inside my skull was trying to wake up.

"Dark."

Alya's voice sounded distant.

Muffled.

Like it was coming from underwater.

"Dark."

A hand touched my arm.

I flinched.

The laboratory snapped back into focus.

Alya stood beside me.

Her face pale.

Terrified.

Concerned.

"We need to leave."

I looked at her.

Then at Jason.

Then back at her.

Slowly, I nodded.

My legs felt strangely heavy.

As though every step required conscious effort.

As though something in that room wanted me to stay.

We exited the laboratory together.

The moment I crossed the doorway, breathing became easier.

Not normal.

Just easier.

The pressure eased slightly.

Enough for me to think again.

The hallway outside was packed.

Students being evacuated.

Teachers trying to maintain order.

Police officers moving between classrooms.

Everyone wanted answers.

Nobody had any.

For a moment I thought the worst was over.

Then I heard someone calling my name.

"Dark!"

I turned.

Kimberly was running toward us.

She looked terrified.

More terrified than anyone else.

Her face had lost all color.

Her breathing was uneven.

As though she had sprinted through the entire building.

The moment she reached us, her eyes searched my face.

"Are you okay?"

The question came out too fast.

Too desperate.

I blinked.

"Yeah."

Kim didn't look convinced.

Her hands trembled slightly.

Then she glanced toward the laboratory.

Immediately looking away again.

"I hate that room."

Alya frowned.

"What happened?"

Kim swallowed.

"I don't know."

Her voice shook.

"It just feels wrong."

A chill ran down my spine.

Because I knew exactly what she meant.

But not in the same way.

"What do you mean?" Alya asked.

Kim hesitated.

Then wrapped her arms around herself.

"It's freezing."

I frowned.

"Freezing?"

She nodded immediately.

"Like walking into a freezer full of dead bodies."

The words hung in the air.

Alya looked confused.

I felt something worse.

Because the laboratory hadn't felt cold to me.

Not at all.

It had felt alive.

Oppressively alive.

Kim noticed my expression.

"You didn't feel it?"

I shook my head.

"No."

She stared at me.

Then toward the laboratory again.

And for a brief moment...

Fear crossed her face.

Not fear of the corpse.

Not fear of the police.

Fear of something she couldn't explain.

Alya rubbed her temples.

"Maybe we're all in shock."

Neither of us answered.

Because none of us believed that.

Not really.

Kim's eyes suddenly moved downward.

Toward my hand.

She froze.

"Dark..."

I looked down.

And my stomach dropped.

A black stain covered two of my fingers.

Not red.

Not brown.

Black.

Like oil mixed with blood.

Like ink made from something organic.

Something alive.

I didn't remember touching Jason.

Yet the stain was there.

Slowly moving.

Barely noticeable.

But moving.

I immediately wiped my hand against my pants.

Too quickly.

Too nervously.

Kim saw that.

Of course she did.

"Where did that come from?"

My pulse quickened.

"I don't know."

The lie sounded weak.

Even to me.

Kim continued staring.

Not suspicious.

Not yet.

Just worried.

As if she was beginning to notice cracks in something she had always assumed was normal.

Before anyone could say anything else, a teacher appeared nearby.

The vice principal.

Sweating heavily despite the cool weather.

"Everyone is being dismissed."

His voice cracked slightly.

"Classes are canceled until further notice."

Murmurs immediately spread through the crowd.

Questions.

Rumors.

Speculation.

Nobody knew what had happened.

Some claimed it was an animal attack.

Others whispered about cults.

A few insisted it was a serial killer.

Every explanation sounded ridiculous.

Yet somehow...

All of them sounded more believable than the truth.

Because the truth involved living runes.

And whispers.

And black roses.

My head began to ache again.

I pressed a hand against my temple.

Alya noticed immediately.

"The headache?"

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that."

"I'm fine."

I wasn't.

Not even close.

The words from the laboratory continued echoing inside my mind.

HEIR.

GATE.

AWAKEN.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Like something repeating itself from the bottom of a well.

Then I felt a vibration inside my pocket.

My phone.

I frowned.

There shouldn't have been any signal.

Half the network around the school was overloaded already.

Yet something had arrived.

Slowly, I pulled the phone out.

No messages.

No calls.

Just one notification.

A file.

An audio file.

No sender.

No number.

No contact information.

Nothing.

Only a title.

Listen Before You Remember.

My blood turned cold.

Alya noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

I didn't answer.

My fingers already felt numb.

Because deep down...

I already knew.

Somehow I knew.

I opened the file.

Static filled the speaker.

A soft crackling noise.

Like an old recording.

For several seconds there was nothing else.

Then came breathing.

Slow.

Uneven.

Close to the microphone.

Far too close.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

The breathing continued.

One second.

Two.

Three.

And then...

A woman's voice spoke.

Soft.

Elegant.

Familiar.

"The first feather has fallen."

My heart stopped.

The voice continued.

"The second has already opened its eyes."

Static crackled.

For a moment I thought the recording had ended.

Then she whispered one final sentence.

"How many will die before you remember who you are?"

The audio ended.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

My fingers loosened.

The phone slipped from my hand.

And hit the pavement.

For a second nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Because I recognized that voice.

Instantly.

Perfectly.

The woman from the festival.

The woman from the classroom.

The woman behind every impossible thing that had happened since the storm.

The woman wearing the crow mask.

Alya quickly picked up the phone.

"What was that?"

I couldn't answer.

My throat had gone dry.

Kim stared at me.

"Dark..."

Her voice sounded distant.

Concerned.

Afraid.

I looked around.

Students.

Teachers.

Police officers.

Ambulances.

Hundreds of people.

Yet somehow I felt completely alone.

Because none of them had heard what I heard.

None of them understood.

And deep inside...

A terrible realization was beginning to form.

Jason's death wasn't the beginning.

It was a warning.

The first feather has fallen.

The second has already opened its eyes.

I didn't know what those words meant.

But I knew one thing.

The woman wasn't speaking about random victims.

She was counting.

And whatever came next...

It was already moving toward us.

My breath caught in my throat.

The Crow-Masked Woman stood behind the rain-streaked window on the second floor.

Motionless.

Watching.

The storm blurred the world around her, turning the glass into a veil of shifting gray. Yet somehow, despite the distance, I could feel her gaze locking onto mine.

Waiting.

Expecting.

As if she had known exactly where I would look.

My entire body went rigid.

Darkness seemed to gather around her silhouette, swallowing the light that should have reflected from the glass.

And then she raised one hand.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

A single finger traced across the fogged surface of the window.

Letters appeared.

Three words.

YOU CALLED IT.

Pain exploded behind my eyes.

A violent, blinding agony.

I stumbled backward.

Fragments of impossible images flooded my mind.

A sky burning red.

Endless black feathers falling like snow.

Roots made of bone piercing through flesh.

A colossal gate opening somewhere beyond the horizon.

And voices.

Thousands of voices.

Whispering my name.

Not speaking it.

Praying it.

Begging it.

Fearing it.

The images vanished as suddenly as they had come.

I gasped for air.

Alya grabbed my shoulders before I could fall.

"Dark!"

The pressure inside my skull slowly faded.

My vision cleared.

I looked back toward the window.

The woman was gone.

Nothing remained except rain sliding down the glass.

Kim stared at me.

Terrified.

"What happened?"

I swallowed hard.

"She was there."

"Who?"

"The woman."

Alya frowned.

"What woman?"

"The Crow-Masked Woman."

Both of them immediately looked toward the window.

Neither reacted.

Neither saw anything.

Because there was nothing there.

Or perhaps...

There had never been anything there for them to see.

A sickening thought crawled through my chest.

What if she only wanted me to see her?

What if all of this—

The notes.

The whispers.

The runes.

The visions.

—were meant specifically for me?

The idea made my stomach twist.

A cold breeze swept through the courtyard.

For a moment, the noise of students and teachers faded into the background.

I felt disconnected from everything around me.

Like I was standing behind invisible glass.

Watching reality from somewhere outside it.

Then a voice interrupted the silence.

"You."

I turned.

A police officer was approaching us.

Middle-aged.

Tired eyes.

Weathered face.

The kind of man who looked permanently exhausted by the world.

Yet the moment his gaze landed on me, something changed in his expression.

A brief flicker.

Suspicion.

"Dark Edevane?"

My chest tightened.

"Yes."

"We need to ask you a few questions."

Alya immediately stepped forward.

"Why?"

The officer glanced down at a small notebook.

"The victim had a documented history of conflicts with him."

Kim looked stunned.

"What?"

The officer continued.

"Several witnesses reported an altercation yesterday."

I already knew where this was going.

Of course I did.

Jason spent years tormenting me.

Everyone knew it.

Now he was dead.

And people always preferred simple explanations.

Simple explanations felt safe.

A bullied student.

A dead bully.

An obvious suspect.

Reality loved shortcuts.

Especially when the truth was too frightening.

Alya crossed her arms.

"Dark didn't kill anyone."

"I'm not accusing him of murder."

The officer sighed.

"Not yet."

The words landed harder than he probably intended.

Not yet.

As if the possibility already existed in his mind.

As if I had already been placed somewhere between witness and suspect.

Kim looked furious.

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe."

The officer closed his notebook.

"But someone ended up dead."

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

The kind of silence that forced everyone to acknowledge things they didn't want to acknowledge.

Eventually the officer looked at me.

"Just a few questions."

I glanced toward Alya.

She looked ready to argue.

Ready to fight.

Ready to throw herself between me and the entire police department if necessary.

For some reason, that thought made me smile.

Just a little.

"I'll be okay."

She didn't look convinced.

Neither did Kim.

Honestly...

Neither was I.

Because something inside me kept repeating the same thought over and over again.

A thought I couldn't get rid of.

Jason was dead.

The Crow-Masked Woman knew it would happen.

The runes had called me Heir.

And now the police wanted answers.

The problem was...

I was beginning to suspect that the answers terrified me more than anyone else.

The officer gestured toward the school building.

"Come with me."

I took one last look toward the second-floor window.

Rain continued sliding down the glass.

Nothing more.

No figure.

No mask.

No message.

Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that she was still there.

Watching.

Smiling.

Waiting for me to remember something I had never known.

And for the first time since all of this began...

I felt genuinely afraid of my own past.