The moment Marine spotted her, her mood instantly brightened.
There, by the window, sat Gara—her quiet, soft-spoken best friend.
Gara was unlike anyone else Marine knew. She wasn't originally from this planet… in fact, she wasn't even human. But no one knew her true origins—
Not even Marine.
Her eyes were a striking, lightning-bright yellow, a color that seemed to crackle with hidden energy. Most days, they were calm and gentle. But when Gara grew angry… she became something entirely different.
Today, however, her expression wasn't one of anger.
It was fear.
Marine approached, her brow furrowing. "Gara, why are you trembling?"
"He's coming… He's coming for me."
The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of deep dread.
Marine leaned closer, her voice steady. "Who? Who is coming?"
Before Gara could answer, she blinked rapidly—like waking from a dream—and her posture relaxed. But something in her behavior still felt… off.
Marine wanted to press further, but the classroom door creaked open.
"Open your books, kiddos. Today we're studying history," announced Mrs. Hoga, striding in with her usual no-nonsense air. She was kind at heart, but rarely showed it in front of her students—she claimed kindness made children lazy.
"My dear students," she continued, "tomorrow is your PTM."
For a moment, silence.
Then—
"What?! Tomorrow is PTM?! No way! I can't let my parents know I've got zeros in every test this year!" screamed Kio from the back row.
"No, Kio, yours is still good. What about me? I skipped the most classes!" groaned Max.
Marine stifled a laugh. Ten- and eleven-year-olds panicking like seasoned criminals facing trial—it was a scene only her classmates could pull off.
She, of course, had nothing to worry about. Her grades were fine, and Silvey—her mother—never stressed about marks anyway. Silvey knew what Marine truly wanted: to become a singer.
That afternoon, as she walked home with Megum, they spotted Silvey at the gate.
"Mom!" Marine dashed forward, wrapping her arms around her in a warm hug.
"Aww, my darling. How was your day, sweetheart?" Silvey's voice was all affection.
"Mother, your affection is spoiling her," Megum muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Guess who's jealous," Marine teased with a sly smile.
"Stop it, both of you. Don't start fighting," Silvey said, feigning exasperation.
"Okay, Mommy, I'm going to the basement for my project," Megum declared.
"Alright, dear, but come up when I call for lunch," Silvey replied with her soft smile.
"Project…?" Marine gave him a curious look.
"Oh, I won't tell you, stupid girl." Megum smirked.
"Mommy, he called me stupid!" Marine shouted, more for the satisfaction of getting him scolded than anything else.
"Megum! Don't call your sister that," Silvey's voice rang from the kitchen.
"But Mom, I didn't—" he started, then shot Marine a glare. "I'll tell you later, brat."
With that, he disappeared downstairs.
Marine wandered into the kitchen.
"Mother, tomorrow is my PTM," she said, settling at the dinner table.
"Alright, dear. I'll come with you," Silvey replied while slicing vegetables.
The next morning, the three of them—Silvey, Marine, and Megum—walked to school.
As they made their way down the street, they noticed something strange. People weren't just looking at them. They were staring.
"Mom, why are they looking at us like that?" Megum asked, his voice uneasy.
"You really don't know?" Marine leaned in, whispering just for him. "It's because our mom is so beautiful, they can't stop staring. Let's hurry before they try something weird."
"Don't worry, my kids," Silvey said with serene calm. "Nothing is going to happen."
Her presence had a way of easing worries, as if her very existence radiated safety.
When they stepped into the school grounds, the gardener was watering roses that had stubbornly refused to bloom despite his careful tending. But the moment Silvey passed by…
The buds unfurled in full bloom, as if greeting her.
After a pleasant PTM—where Marine received nothing but praise—they returned home.
That night, however, the air felt different.
The stillness was too heavy.
And the night… was not ordinary.