The classroom was silent, the kind of silence that carried weight. Sunlight streamed through the open window, its warmth contrasting with the cool breeze that rustled papers and brushed against anxious faces. Every student sat stiff in their seats, hearts pounding, sweat glistening on their brows as the teacher read out the exam results one by one.
But among that sea of tension, one figure remained calm. Ken sat with his back straight, his brown eyes steady and composed, untouched by the fear that gripped the others.
When the teacher's voice finally called his name—"Ken"—he rose from his desk with quiet confidence and walked toward the front.
The teacher glanced up from the papers, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're first in the class, Ken. Ninety-eight out of a hundred. Keep it up, my boy. You'll do great things in the future."And the teacher ran a hand through Ken's messy black hairs.
Ken's lips curved into a faint smile, his calm gaze unwavering as the class looked on.
Ken returned to his desk and sat down. Beside him was Sarah—the second highest in the class. She always sat next to him, and as usual, the sunlight seemed to favor her, making her blonde hair glow and her green eyes sparkle like emeralds. She turned toward him with a gentle smile.
"Hey, you did it again," she said, her voice soft but full of warmth.
Ken froze for a moment. His heart thudded against his ribs as if the whole world had narrowed down to just her words. For a few seconds, his mind went blank—every possible reply slipping away. Somehow, he managed to stammer, without daring to look at her, "T–Thanks, Sarah."
Like most boys in school, Ken had a crush on her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and the most popular girl in the entire school—someone every guy wanted to be near. But deep inside, he knew—or thought he knew—that he didn't stand a chance. I wish I could be as cool as her, he thought, lowering his gaze to his desk.
To Ken, he was just a shy, awkward nerd lost in his books, while Sarah was everything he wasn't. What he didn't know, though, was that Sarah saw him differently. Behind his quietness, she admired the kindness and sincerity that most people never noticed.
After few more classes the final bell rang, echoing through the halls. Within moments, the school erupted into noise and motion—students chatting excitedly, laughter spilling into the cool evening air. They rushed toward the main gate, eager to go home, their conversations blending into a cheerful hum. Outside, the setting sun painted the sky in soft shades of orange and gold, casting long shadows across the schoolyard.
Inside the now quiet classroom, Ken packed his books neatly into his bag. He zipped it shut, slung it over his shoulder, and turned toward the door—only to freeze.
James, the class bully, stood there with a few of his friends. His tall frame blocked the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. The others flanked him like shadows.
Ken's heart began to race. His throat tightened as fear crawled through his chest. Not again… please, not today, he thought, clenching the strap of his bag.
James stepped closer, his tone dripping with mockery. "Hey, look who's here—the class nerd."
Ken's lips trembled. He shut his eyes for a second, silently praying, Please leave me alone… at least for today.
James cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate. His intentions were clear. He raised his hand—
"Enough is enough!"
The sharp voice cut through the tension. Everyone turned.
It was Sarah. She stood in the doorway, her face stern, eyes blazing with anger.
"If you're so strong, James, why do you need to bully someone weaker? It only shows how much of a coward you really are." Her words sliced through the air like a blade.
James's smirk faltered for a moment, then he forced a sarcastic laugh. "Relax, Sarah. We were just… helping him."
Sarah stepped forward, her voice trembling with fury. "Ken doesn't need your help. He's more than capable of standing on his own. Now, move."
James glared at her for a moment, then scoffed. "Fine. I'll let you live this time, nerd," he said arrogantly, throwing Ken a final look before walking out with his friends.
The classroom fell silent again, the tension slowly fading with their footsteps.
Sarah walked up to Ken, her anger from moments ago softening into concern. Her warm presence seemed to calm the trembling air around him.
"Are you okay, Ken?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine care.
Ken hesitated, his eyes flickering nervously toward her. "Y–Yes, I'm okay," he managed to say, though his voice still trembled.
The scene shifted to an empty road bathed in the fading glow of sunset. The two of them walked side by side, their shadows stretching long across the pavement. For a while, neither spoke. Ken was lost in his thoughts, stealing small glances at Sarah—her calm stride, the way the light caught her hair. She's perfect, he thought, his heart quietly fluttering.
Then Sarah broke the silence, her voice curious and a little uneasy. "Hey, Ken?"
Ken blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Y–Yes?" he replied, slightly startled.
"Have you noticed?" she continued. "The Sinjikis have been appearing more often lately. It's really concerning. Why can't the government do anything about it?"
Ken adjusted his glasses, speaking in his usual shy, thoughtful tone. "Yeah… it's worrying. I read that the government issued a warning—no one's supposed to be outside after six p.m."
Sarah's eyes widened slightly. "If that's true, then we'd better hurry. It's already five forty-eight."
She gave him a quick smile and waved as she started walking ahead. "See you tomorrow, Ken!"
Ken slowed his steps, watching her fade into the golden haze of the evening. The wind brushed against him, carrying the last traces of her voice as the street grew quieter, almost too quiet.
Ken walked alone down the quiet street, his footsteps echoing softly in the calm evening air. Suddenly, a small puppy darted out from a corner and stopped right in front of him, wagging its tail eagerly.
Ken's serious expression melted into a gentle smile. He crouched down and pulled out a small packet of biscuits from his bag. "Here you go," he said softly, breaking a piece and handing it to the puppy. The little creature barked happily and ate with excitement.
After a moment, Ken stood up and continued toward home, adjusting the strap of his bag. But as he walked, he heard the faint patter of tiny paws behind him. He glanced back—the puppy was following, tail still wagging.
"Hey! Shoo, shoo! I don't have any more biscuits," Ken said, waving his hands. When the puppy didn't stop, he sighed and broke into a small run. The puppy tried to keep up but soon fell behind, watching as Ken disappeared into the distance.
The scene shifted to Ken's home—a small but warm apartment lit by soft yellow light. He lived alone. After taking a quick shower, he changed into fresh clothes, cooked a simple meal of rice and soup, and sat down to eat while the TV played quietly in the background.
Outside, the rain began to fall, tapping gently against the window. The clock read 6:30 p.m. Ken finished his meal, stood up, and moved to his study table. He switched on the desk lamp, opened his books, and began to study—his pen moving in rhythm with the hum of the television.
Meanwhile, far away on a dimly lit street, the puppy had taken shelter beneath the extended roof of a closed roadside restaurant. Rain poured down around it, the puddles glowing under a flickering lamp post. The puppy trembled, curling up against the cold.
Then, the light above began to flicker more violently. The puppy's shadow on the wet ground started to stretch—slowly, unnaturally—like black liquid spilling outward. The darkness deepened until it seemed alive.
From within that shadow, something began to rise.
A Sinjiki emerged—its elongated, humanoid body towering over the trembling puppy. Its pale blue skin was covered in scars that glistened under the rain. The creature had no eyes, no nose—only a wide, crooked grin stitched crudely across where its mouth should be.
The puppy barked furiously, but the Sinjiki didn't move. It simply stood there—tall, still, and silent—its stitched smile fixed downward, staring at the helpless creature beneath it.
The puppy kept barking, its tiny body trembling yet defiant against the towering Sinjiki. The creature didn't move—it only stood there, motionless, its stitched grin stretching eerily in the dim light.
Then, without warning, the lamp post above began to flicker violently. The flashes came faster and faster until, suddenly, the light went out completely.
Darkness swallowed the street.
The rain continued to fall, but now the air was filled with an unnerving silence. The puppy's furious barking had stopped. The only sound left was the soft patter of rain on wet pavement.
A few seconds later, the lamp post sputtered back to life, its light flickering once before stabilizing.
The Sinjiki was gone.
But what remained beneath the lamp made the world freeze. A dark red pool spread slowly across the concrete, mixing with the rainwater. In the center of it lay the small, lifeless head of the puppy—its once bright eyes now dim, its body nowhere to be seen.
The night had fallen completely silent again.