It was barely morning when the little one began to sneak into the house.
The sun's rays appeared pale behind the dusty windows,
as if refusing to enter completely.
In the kitchen, the mother sat alone at the table,
a cup of coffee long since gone cold twirling between her fingers,
in a repetitive motion that concealed what was spinning inside her.
Her features weren't tired, her eyes were sunken in silent darkness—
not from lack of sleep, but from something deeper… much deeper than sadness.
It clung to the walls like heavy moisture, declared.
From the other side of the room, Koran was silently watching her,
standing by the door, holding his bag with one hand,
his other hand brushing the edges of his old coat.
He approached her slowly, his voice low but carrying warmth,
his small attempt to rescue her from her drowning.
(In a soft and teasing tone – Koran:)
"You know… if you keep staring at that cup, it'll swallow you more.
In the end."
The mother raised her eyes toward him slowly,
as if ripped from a sea of thoughts.
A faint, ghost-like smile appeared on her lips.
(With a warm but tired voice – Mother:)
"Don't worry, I still don't know how to swim… ha."
Koran smiled gently, came closer, and patted her shoulder,
then leaned in to whisper to her:
(Playfully – Koran:)
"Today, after school… don't skip dinner."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise to hear his whisper:
(Smiling softly – Koran:)
"I saved some money to take you out for that cake you love.
No excuses. Promise."
Then a real smile appeared, her eyes widened for a moment in astonishment,
small and broken, yet sincere, as if she forgot her grief for a moment.
(Whispering with teary eyes – Mother:)
"You really think about me a lot… my little one."
Koran laughed lightly, ran his hand through his hair to hide his shyness.
At that moment, a knock was heard on the door,
followed by Timo's usual voice calling from outside:
(Cheekily – from behind the door, Timo:)
"Koran! Are you gonna leave me freezing here or what?"
Koran turned with a short laugh, ready to leave,
but then turned back to kiss his mother's forehead gently, whispering again:
(Softly – Koran:)
"Don't forget your favorite cake… it's a promise."
Then he left quietly, leaving behind the faint smile and the smell of coffee
on his mother's tired face despite it all.
When Koran opened the door, the morning breeze blew in,
carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery,
mixed with the familiar fragrances of the streets everyone knew—
a blend of simple life lived here.
Timo was waiting by the door, waving excitedly as usual,
like a child who knows no stillness, stepping lightly again.
(Laughing – Timo:)
"Finally! I thought you'd lock yourself in there forever!"
Koran smiled softly, closed the door behind him, and walked beside his friend
through the narrow alleys.
The city had started to wake up, vendors laying out their goods,
old folks whispering in the streets, sitting in front of cafés sipping coffee
and exchanging stories of the past.
As they walked among the pleasant noise, Timo suddenly turned toward Koran:
(Smiling slyly – Timo, winking:)
"By the way… how's Miss Diva today?"
(Adding cheerfully – pretending:)
"I bet she's mad at me again, just like every morning."
Koran's smile faltered slightly, a soft shadow passed across his face.
He tried to hide it, but Timo noticed the broken look on his friend's face,
despite his effort to mask the sadness.
Timo immediately hit Koran's shoulder lightly, smiling to change the subject
as usual when the atmosphere got heavy.
(Excited – Timo:)
"Hey! I almost forgot! Did you see the new creature designs?
Someone posted them last night, they look amazing!"
Timo pulled out his small tablet from his pocket and showed Koran
weird creature images digitally intertwined—
some with multiple eyes, some with wings, some glowing like comets.
(Laughing – Timo, showing the images:)
"Look at this one! They say it can show you your dreams!
Imagine contracting with it—you'd see a giant cake all day!"
(Then added mischievously:)
"Or maybe see yourself as king of the Five Kingdoms!"
Despite himself, Koran smiled, unable to suppress a small laugh
at Timo's silliness.
(Smiling faintly – Koran:)
"You're an idiot."
(Laughing proudly – Timo:)
"At least I'm the kind of idiot that makes his friend smile."
The two continued their way through the noisy district,
past posters decorating the walls for the big festival—
music rising bit by bit.
Despite everything, a small, warm thing continued to beat inside Koran,
even with the anxiety that gripped his heart.
As they approached the school gate, the noise gradually faded,
students gathering in the courtyard with mixed expressions of excitement and boredom,
getting ready for a new school day—
no one knowing what awaited them.
The atmosphere at the school gate was slightly different than usual.
The small courtyard, surrounded by decorated trees with lights, was crowded with students moving slowly, some talking about recent celebrations, others sharing funny video clips on their small screens.
The building itself looked strange… a bizarre blend between modernity and tradition.
Its white walls adorned with ancient engravings might have dated back centuries,
yet in its corners, glass screens displayed weather data and lesson schedules.
In the main square, small robots cleaned the perfectly quiet floor.
(From the courtyard – Timu, laughing quietly:)
"Even the school today looks like it came out of a dream. Weird."
Koran smiled softly as they walked lightly toward their class with the rest of the students.
The class was filled with noise, laughter, some complaints and childish whining,
which slowly faded the moment the teacher entered.
She walked in with steady steps, wearing a dark, elegant coat.
Her gray hair was carefully tied back, but she wasn't exactly strict.
She had a quiet aura that made every student feel her gaze as if it had weight.
Then she stood in front of the board, looked at everyone coldly, and said—
(With a steady voice – Teacher:)
"All lessons today… are postponed."
Before she continued, a faint murmur spread through the class.
(With a cold tone – Teacher:)
"Based on the royal directives… we'll watch an official broadcast.
A major event."
Her eyes sparkled mysteriously for a moment before she added slowly—
"No one is exempt… the great celebration."
She said it in a way that left no room for discussion, then pointed to the large screen fixed above the board.
Koran, quietly observing her, thought to himself—
(Internal monologue – Koran:)
"I've never seen her talk like this before… as if she has no choice."
As the lights dimmed and the screen began to display, Koran's train of thought stopped.
The official broadcast began.
The screen started to show slow images with heavy music,
distant murmurs as if coming from the depths of an ancient palace.
Images of sprawling cities with shining towers touching the clouds,
blue rivers carving paths through the mountains, golden bridges in the middle of markets.
Everyone in the class was staring at the screen—awed, afraid, or amazed…
except for Koran, who looked tense.
He sat back in his seat, his eyes half-open, watching a dream he didn't find silent, but boring.
(Internal monologue – Koran, sarcastic and cold at the same time:)
"Wow… dazzling cities, rivers, bridges…
Looks like an ad for a magical cure for boredom.
They all stare at it like it's the end of the world… or the beginning of a game.
Well, I'm just trying not to think about how cruel this really is…
And the chairs."
He slowly turned his gaze from the screen and looked at the wooden desks around him,
some still bearing scratches and old drawings left by students before them.
(Internal monologue – Koran:)
"How many students sat here before me, pretending to care about what's on that screen?
How many thought they were living a historical moment…
then forgot everything the next day?"
His eyes moved to the soft lights playing with the shadows on the classroom walls,
then stopped at the teacher standing silently in front of them.
She stood motionless, staring at the screen with neutral features.
The dark coat wrapped tightly around her thin frame, the collar raised precisely—
as if it were an invisible armor protecting her from this world.
(Internal monologue – Koran:)
"Her coat… it suits her.
Neat. Strict. Like her.
How many times has she stood there, pretending to be real?
Like she controls everything?
Like us… obeying every command.
But today… she looks different."
Despite his inner sarcasm, something cold began to crawl behind his smile.
An icy feeling slowly seeping into his depths.
On the screen, glowing massive phrases began to appear in heavy music lines:
> "History is being written anew."
"Prepare for the dawn of the new light."
"…The heir is about to be announced."