He never came back… they said, "You don't have one?!" … I don't believe it. I remember him.
These thoughts kept haunting me until the moment I landed in Korea. Coming back to my home country, my hometown, was always a plan of mine. I had to find my brother, whom we lost contact with on a random Thursday last year. Since then, my parents kept avoiding bringing him up. They said I should focus on the present; what happened in the past stays buried in the past.
However, is a person that easy to forget? I don't think forgetting someone who once existed and then mysteriously disappeared is as painless and simple as that. They do seem hurt, though. Sometimes I catch my mom crying alone while drinking in the dark. Dad is always on his nerves, taking sleeping pills from time to time. I just know how much his loss affected them; maybe their words deny it, but deep down, surely they miss him. Their eyes, random breakdowns, and sighs expose them. I miss him too. Thus, I need to uncover the truth, even if he's dead, even if he's gone. I need to make sure what truly happened on that Thursday.
All I have left of him is a ripped photo in his high school uniform, Juyeon High School, Seoul… my new school.
RING RING RING
The school bell echoed loudly. Everyone was running towards their classes while I was walking slowly, not knowing where I was headed. It's huge… it's breathtaking. Blending modernity with a warm, inviting atmosphere, it almost felt like I'd been here before. These hallways, greenery, and red pathways, this sleek multi-story building with its wide balconies, left me speechless.
Despite coming late to class, I was told to stay outside until the homeroom teacher called my name. I could hear the chatter, laughter, desks scraping; the classroom buzzed with life.
"Good morning, class," the teacher called out, dragging the chatter down. "Well, today we have a new student, Kai, please get in."
The door creaked open as I stepped in. I could feel each and every pair of eyes focused on me. I had to summon every ounce of courage I had before lifting my head up. Well, weird, maybe those were the norms in Korea, different from the US, but the desks were unique, striped in different colors. Each row had a specific color. The front row was red , the second row blue, and the last pink.
"Hey," I said, my voice surprisingly calm, steady, almost rehearsed. "I'm Kai, Kai Riven."
A ripple of whispers followed immediately. Everyone was either staring at me or exchanging glances. Some seemed interested, others mocking, and others… well, one student at the very front of the classroom, in his red green striped desk directly facing the teacher's office, seemed unbothered. He didn't move an inch, laying his head between his arms crossed on the table, his dark black hair spreading its messy waves, and his back curved in a rather uncomfortable position. I'm sure, though, that I clearly saw his ears straining as I spoke, as if he recognized my voice… or maybe knew a similar one. It was a brief moment indeed, but I let my eyes wander the classroom, catching random fragments: the creaked watch on one wrist, the gleam of designer sneakers under one desk, the twitch of annoyance in the teacher's jaw, a boy , -Zion- written on his red name tag, dark blond hair, neither straight nor curled but somewhere quietly in between, slouched so far back his chair wobbled dangerously, while another, -Nero- noted on his blue name tag, leaned forward, pulling back his beanie a little behind his hairline, lips moving as he whispered:
"That dude is crazy rich… Damn, look at his shoes, those are limited edition, not available in stores yet. I bet they would make me look the coolest."
"Too bad your dad seized your credit card, buddy," Zion muttered, sending his head back as his hair shined messy enough to look effortless but not wild.
"ZION!!" the teacher suddenly snapped as I was walking back to my designated desk, and I swear, a few more inches back and I'll be attending a different class. My desk is at the very end of the classroom; I could barely hear the teacher, that's how far I was from the board.
"Since you're talking too much… What's the chapter we're studying today?"
Zion straightened with a jolt:
"OH! I thought you were giving us a break… verbally," he said. I could tell from his voice he was confident about his… I think… joke? He was being playful, cheerfully smiling left and right, until his smile faded and his ego crushed in embarrassment. Zion sank back into his seat with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck when the teacher's glare hardened:
"Keep talking and I'll give you a permanent break—from this class."
Time passed in a flash. Everyone, closer to the board, was listening carefully to the teacher for the past two hours. I, however, seated in another dimension, could barely hear his words. I spent my time studying faces, movements, whispers, and lips parting rather than studying mathematics, or physics… I'm not sure. When class was finally dismissed, I figured that was the perfect time to try looking for some clues, asking teachers about my brother. They would definitely remember their student. They would check student records, school files, or previous yearbooks… or so I thought .
All my questions were either answered with a firm "no" or a smiling "I'm too busy for that, next time maybe."
At this point, the only option left was asking the headmaster himself. Unfortunately ,they said I couldn't talk to him during that break as he was attending a meeting. At that moment , I couldn't think of any other plan so I went back to my desk, my exile. Too immersed in my dark, hopeless, confused thoughts, I didn't notice the presence of Nero, who perched himself on a desk facing mine, his friends gathered around him, eyes fixed on me.
"Hey bro, your sneakers are actually phenomenal. Mind if I borrow them? Seeing some girls later,"
Nero grinned, his eyes in flames—not flames of excitement nor anger. I could clearly see flames of arrogance, an imperious wannabe. I think bullying wasn't his aim by asking that question; at least that wasn't his first step. At that moment, I kept repeating in my head countless times in a few seconds: I'm here for a reason… no need to cause drama, making my mission harder. My head lowered, eyes hidden beneath my fringe:
"Dude, come on. Where are your manners?" Nero frowned.
Stay focused. No drama.
"Sure."
I responded as I looked up with a calm smile. Nero blinked, shocked. He didn't expect such an answer with such a tone; his surprise was obvious with the way a smirk spread across his face, though irritation lingered in his eyes. I saw him again a few hours later when school was over, leaning against a wall . Nero exhaled a puff of smoke, the cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. I couldn't hear what the ongoing conversation was, but one thing I mastered for years is reading lips' movements. I could tell what words he was saying from afar:
"This new guy is pissing me off."
"He still agreed to lend you his precious shoes, though," Zion said, shoving his hands into his pockets, looking bored, face slack with disinterest.
"Exactly! He's no fun."
"Well… then y'all should be friends since you have something in common."
"Like what??"
"You're no fun either," Zion turned to leave, waving lazily. "I'm out, bye."
Nero's jaw tightened, his voice low and venomous. I could tell he wasn't the nice type; it's better not to get involved with him or his cult-like group of friends. Zion, though, I couldn't figure what type of person he was. I quickly walked away, trying to avoid bumping into him as he was heading towards the school's gate.
That day drained me. I put so much effort into reading people's intentions, personalities, interests, and not to mention running from one teacher to another asking for help, only to get ignored.
Once in my apartment, I sat at my desk for a few minutes, my head resting heavily on my arm facing a cup of ramen I'd bought on my way home. The silence of my room pressed down on me. I had no idea where to start, where to search, when, and how to find something or someone who knew anything.
With my cold hands, I gripped my head, frustration pouring out in a harsh sigh as I whispered to myself:
"Not a single clue."
DING.
My phone suddenly lit up. A notification appeared across the screen: "App installed."
The problem is, I hadn't installed anything. I wasn't sure though; I mean, I was too busy thinking about my brother, too overwhelmed by my own thoughts, I could've maybe downloaded it but still forgot that I did. Again, my contemplation, trying so hard to remember whether I did install an app or not, was interrupted by another notification:
"Assignment due tomorrow. Click to watch the presentation."
At this point, I was too lost, too confused to even make any effort. I slowly leaned forward, tapped the message, and the screen swallowed itself in darkness. The display went pitch black. Fear hit me like a fist to the chest, and panic flared instantly, a wild, clawing sensation that tightened my throat and froze my limbs. My eyes widened at what I saw, horror flooding my veins. This is terrible ...