I barely remembered leaving the nurse's office. My legs felt like lead, my body dragging with every step. Saana walked beside me, her arms crossed, keeping a close eye on me like I was going to drop at any moment.
Monaka, ever the impatient one, muttered, "We'd get there faster if you just let me carry you."
"Don't even think about it,"
I snapped, forcing my voice to sound stronger than I felt. Monaka scoffed but didn't push it.
The closer we got to the dorm, the more my skin prickled—not from exhaustion, but from something… else. A sharp heat crawled up my neck like something was pressing into my skin from the inside. The burn was deep, spreading in slow pulses. I clenched my jaw.
No…Not now.
I reached up instinctively, fingers brushing the hidden mark on my neck—and flinched at the heat. It was real. Not just in my head.But I couldn't say anything. Not with Monaka and Saana here. Not with them already watching me so closely.
By the time we reached the dorm building, the headache had dulled, but the exhaustion still clung to me like a weight. That's When, Saana finally stopped, adjusting her bag.
"You should really lie down for a while," she said, and for once, she wasn't teasing.
"I will," I lied.
Monaka narrowed her eyes. "You better."
I waited, expecting them not to follow me inside, but instead—
"Do you need help getting to your room?"
I turned. A girl stood at the entrance, arms folded across her chest. A third-year.
Monaka grinned. "Perfect timing. We gotta head back to class, but Kensi here needs to get to bed before she drops dead on the stairs."
"I'm fine—"
"Yeah, yeah. Just go with her." Monaka waved me off before I could finish.
I watched them turn back toward the school, disappearing around the corner. Only when they were fully gone did I let my fingers dig into the fabric of my collar, pressing against the mark on my neck. The heat had only gotten worse.
"Hey, you coming?"
Her voice made me stiffen. I quickly dropped my hand, hiding the mark, and turned toward her.
"Yeah."
She didn't try to make small talk. She just walked with me to my door, waiting as I fumbled with the high-tech key card to the dorm room I kept my head slightly lowered, making sure she couldn't see my neck. Every muscle ached. Even lifting my arms to unlock the door felt too much.
When I finally pushed the door open, she stepped back. "Get some sleep, yeah?"
I hesitated. This feels too easy.
"That's it?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Sakura raised an eyebrow. "What, do you need anything else?"
I scoffed. "No."
She smirked. "Good. Then get inside."
I didn't argue. Just stepped in, shut the door—and finally let out a slow breath. The dorm room was quiet. Too quiet. And my neck was still burning.
I stumbled toward the mirror, pulling my collar down just enough to see
The mark was darker than before.And for just a split second—I thought I saw it move.
The mark on my neck pulsed—hot, angry. I turned away from the mirror, clutching my chest like it could hold the memories back.
But my knees buckled before I could sigh again, this time staggering toward the bed.I wanted to answer. To say something, anything. But the second my head touched the pillow, the world tilted sideways again—this time, into darkness.
***
We used to run through the muddy streets of that ghost-town village, three little kids with scraped knees and sunburnt cheeks, convinced the world was only as big as we could run.
It was always the three of us—me a tomboy, the boy who never backed down, and the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve. The only children in that place.
Our laughter used to echo between the crumbling stone walls and empty houses. It felt like the town was holding its breath, keeping its last warmth for us.
Then we grew up.
They sent us to the city when we turned six. Our hometown's school had closed down long ago. It was supposed to be a new beginning. But beginnings aren't always kind.
At first, people were curious. Fascinated. Three kids from the mysterious forgotten town. We were exotic. Strange. But they smiled.
Until they didn't.
By the time we turned eight, the curiosity soured.
The girl—sweet and sensitive, she—was the first to be hurt.
I don't remember how it started exactly. Just… a pencil. Someone's pencil tapped her hand by accident and she flinched hard. She looked so hurt—tears welled up instantly.
I remember the classroom going still.
And then came the Snickers.
"Why are you crying? She barely touched you."
From then on, it was like they'd found a reason.
She became the "weird girl." Too sensitive. Too quiet. Too soft.
Then they noticed the mark on the back of her hand. A mark, similar to the mark on my neck—but to them, it was ammunition.
She said something. To the bullies. I remember her shaking, and clutching her bag. Her voice was soft—too soft.
They laughed in her face.
I didn't do anything.
Not then.
I froze… and the shame twisted in my gut. It wasn't just fear—it was something worse. I wasn't supposed to be that weak, that afraid. I hated myself for standing there, paralyzed. A coward. I should have acted. I should have protected them, but I ... didn't"
But one day... it went too far. I still can't recall what they were trying to make her do—but she was cornered, surrounded, sobbing. Her hair—messy, uneven—fell in clumps around her face, as though they'd taken something from her, piece by piece. She clung to the wall like it was her only anchor, trembling.
That was the first time I moved.
She was crying in the corner, her hand shaking as she clutched a handful of hair, the strands slipping between her fingers.
"No... don't tease her. She is my friend."
I pushed through the crowd and shoved someone aside. I didn't say much—I don't even think I yelled. I just stood there.
And somehow, that was enough.
The attention turned toward me.
They laughed at my friend, calling her pathetic for needing someone else to fight her battles. She tried to say something, but her voice cracked.
"I felt a rush of pride. I saved her. Me. The tomboy who never backed down, who didn't care about being called 'too rough' or 'one of the boys.' At that moment, I was ready to fight anyone who tried to hurt her. It didn't matter that I was a girl—I wasn't going to let them break her, not again."
But before I could even take a breath, the boy stepped between us.
He didn't speak either.
He didn't need to.
He just stood there, like a wall between us and the world.
And they hated him for it.
That's when the whispers started.
"You looser! Don't come near us."
I'll never forget the way he froze when they said that. His face didn't change, but his hands balled into fists.
Every day after that, they went for him. They tripped him in the hallway. Dumped paint on his bag. Ripped his books. Called him names that still echo in my ears.But he never stopped showing up. & he didn't try to fight back either
Never.
He walked into class each day like nothing was wrong. Like he was proud to carry the weight for us.
Because that's what he was doing—acting as a decoy. He never said it, but I knew.
He did it to protect me and my friend.
But her… she couldn't take it. She started crying during class. She barely spoke anymore. Then, one day—she was gone.
Transferred without saying goodbye.
Just like that.
The silence she left behind was louder than anything I'd ever known.
"I remember him slamming his locker, his hands trembling with something too heavy for a kid.
"She didn't even tell us,"
he whispered.
He also stopped talking after that.
I should've noticed sooner. I should've seen the signs, but I was too wrapped up in my own guilt to realize that he needed help, too. I couldn't protect them—and I couldn't even protect myself from what was coming."
A week later, he transferred too.
And suddenly—I was the only one left.
"I'd told myself I was protecting them.
But deep down, I knew—I failed.
They left because of me.
Because I didn't stop it. I let them slip away, too scared to fight for them. I couldn't even keep us together, and that's on me."
So when the bullies turned their eyes on me—I didn't flinch.
I let it happen.
"Marks on your neck are weird. Your hair is weird."
I remember them laughing as they said it, pulling at my collar, and yanking my braid.
I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I just stood there, numb.
I didn't want to face the truth—that I deserved this. Every insult, every cruel comment. It was all my fault. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save them."
I told myself I deserved it.
Because I let them suffer.Because I let them break.Because if anyone should've been left alone—it should've been me.
***
I wiped at my face, feeling the wetness of my cheeks, and realized—without even knowing when—tears had fallen.
I didn't even remember when the guilt had settled in. It just… had. The kind that weighed you down, wrapped around your chest, tightening with every breath.
The dorm room felt colder than usual. Not cold in temperature—cold in memory. Cold in the way it wrapped itself around my chest and didn't let go.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the nurse's pass still clutched in my hand, though it meant nothing now.
It didn't.
I had been told to rest. To "take it easy."
But how do you rest when your head won't stop replaying a voice that shouldn't know who you are?
"I know your past."
Those four words still echoed, sharp and biting, like they'd been carved into my bones. I kept waiting for them to fade, but they clung to me, cold and unforgiving, like frostbite on my soul.
My head throbbed, my heart heavier with every breath. I hadn't even taken off my shoes.
I just sat there, staring at the floor, too numb to move, watching the afternoon sunlight creep across the hardwood in a slow, torturous crawl—as if the world still made sense, as if anything still made sense anymore.
***
A knock rattled the dorm room door.
Not loud—just three soft taps. But it still made my chest jolt, like I'd been caught doing something wrong.
I sat up slowly, the weight of sleep still clinging to my limbs. The sunlight outside had faded into that deep amber glow that soaked the walls in quiet, sleepy gold.
Even though I was wearing my normal clothes, my hands adjusted the collar of my shirt out of habit—to hide my neck.
My head was still foggy from the nap, but the moment I opened the door and saw who was standing there, clarity snapped back into me like a slap.
Two upperclassmen. Third-years. I recognized them from the dorm orientation, though we'd never spoken before. One of them, a tall girl with cropped black hair and a sharp jawline, offered a polite smile.
"We're holding a quick dorm meeting in the lounge. Mandatory."
Her eyes flicked down to my face.
"You feeling okay? You look pale."
I blinked, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine."
Because Ozaka's not here. That's why I'm fine.
…at least for now.
"We'll wait a few minutes. Just come when you're ready."
They left just as quietly as they arrived. I stood there, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob, staring at the hallway like it might change.
A dorm meeting?
Was there a special announcement? My thoughts drifted to the last dorm-wide meeting—something about safety rules and cafeteria fire alarms. Useless stuff. This felt different.
Then I remembered—I forgot to check the notice board again.
Of course, I did.
I pulled on my uniform vest and headed out, rubbing the sleep from my face as I stepped into the hallway. Students were already gathering in the dorm lounge. Some whispered between themselves, others just waited, eyes on their phones or fidgeting with their sleeves.
Near the corner by the vending machines, I spotted them—the same upperclassmen from earlier, including Sakura. She was leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed, talking to two other third-years I vaguely recognised from dorm orientation.
Sakura noticed me almost instantly.
"Hey, Kensi," she called, her voice light but confident. "Feeling any better?"
All three of them turned their attention to me. It wasn't threatening—it was just... attention. Something I wasn't good at.
"I'm fine," I said, offering a polite nod. My voice came out steadier than I felt.
One of the girls—a tall one with silver wire-framed glasses—raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You looked like you were going to faceplant earlier."
Sakura chuckled. "She almost did."
I forced a smile. "Thanks for the save."
"No worries," Sakura said with a wave. "Honestly, it's kind of lucky. Most of us third-years got today off anyway. Group project presentations."
"That's right," the other girl added. "Half the senior block is empty. Even the teachers look half asleep."
Sakura grinned. "Which is why we got stuck with dorm duties. Surprise inspections, student wellness, mysterious meetings... you know, the usual."
The three of them exchanged a look—half amused, half curious.
"You think it's about a fire drill again?" one of them asked.
"Nah," Sakura replied. "Too many people are acting weird. It's gotta be something else."
"A dorm change?"
"Or maybe a visitor?"
Sakura turned back to me. "What do you think, Kensi?"
I shrugged quickly. "No idea."
But inside, my chest tightened.
A sudden flicker of memory surfaced. The way they'd introduced me on my first day here. I felt that same heaviness start to creep into my chest.
Please don't let it be another transfer.
Then it hit me—a flicker of memory sharp enough to sting.
The way they'd introduced me on my first day here.
The polite claps. The awkward silence. The fake smiles.
I remembered the weight of every gaze, how the word "transfer" clung to me like static. I remembered how visible I had felt. How much I wanted to disappear.
The same heaviness began to creep into my chest.
Was this… another transfer?
Before I could stop the thought, the third-years confirmed it out loud.
That didn't happen often. Most students joined at the start of the term, and most of the students are from the nearby city -so no one usually comes to the dorm middle of the year. But I caught it through the scattered murmurs.
"There's someone new."
"She's joining the dorm today."
"Wonder where she'll be placed…"
I didn't want to think about it. I tried to imagine someone else—someone random. Maybe a quiet girl. Someone from another year.
Someone who wasn't…
No.
Stop thinking that. It's not her. It can't be.
I stood near the back and kept my eyes low, trying to look calm while my insides churned.
The dorm head arrived. She stood in front of the lounge with the same pleasant tone she always used. "Thank you for coming. We have a small update today. As some of you have heard, we're welcoming a new student into the dorm."
I held my breath.
"She's already been introduced in class earlier , but this is her formal welcome to the residential side of our school."
I barely heard the rest of the words. My fingers curled into the fabric.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Even.
A figure entered from the hallway, backlit by the soft dorm lights.
Ozaka.
She walked in like she belonged, her black hair catching the light just slightly, her eyes bright and unreadable as always. That faint, unreadable smile still curved at her lips—the same one she wore during class introductions. Like this was nothing. Like she hadn't whispered those words into my soul and left it cracking.
She stood beside the dorm head with poised stillness.
"Hello again," Ozaka said, her voice smooth and clear. "Nice to meet you all. I'm looking forward to living here with everyone."
I couldn't breathe.
The dorm head smiled, oblivious to the storm building in my chest. "As it turns out, we had lots of rooms for 2 persons left unassigned this year, and since both students are first-years, we decided it was the best fit."
I already knew what she was going to say.
I knew it. But hearing it still shattered me.
"Ozaka will be rooming with Kensi."
My legs went numb. I stared at the floor like it could hold me together.
Somewhere to my left, someone whispered, "Whoa, lucky."
The world spun around me.
"No," I whispered, too quiet for anyone to hear.
"No, no, no—"
I tried to look okay. Tried to hold my breath steady. But everything around me—the murmurs, the lights, Ozaka's shadow stretching closer—it all blurred.
I felt my knees buckle—no warning, just gravity—and the voices around me blurred into one long, distant hum.
I reached out instinctively, trying to grip the sleeve of the senior beside me. I needed something to hold on to.
But I was already falling.
The edges of the room dimmed like someone had turned the brightness down on reality itself. I felt the rush of blood leave my head, my knees giving out beneath me.
My worst nightmare had come true.
And then, everything went black.
***