Kafka stared blankly at the ceiling as his alarm clock rang and rang. The noise filled the room, yet his mind remained empty—numb. He felt strangely tired, too tired to even move.
Turning his head, his eyes fell on the alarm clock.
"7:24 a.m.," he muttered to himself before letting his gaze drift back up.
"What's the point of going to school? When all we do is memorize and repeat... for what purpose?"
He exhaled softly, eyes half-lidded.
Forget it. I still have time.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, dragging his weary body toward the bathroom. By the time he finished, the clock read 7:40.
Grabbing his bag, Kafka went downstairs—only to find the house empty.
They must've already gone to work, he thought, picking up the toasted bread his mother had left for him. He bit into it absently as he stepped outside.
His pace was unhurried, almost sluggish. A few students brushed past him on the sidewalk, bumping his shoulder without a word.
...Typical, he thought, watching them rush ahead like clockwork toys wound too tight.
At the intersection, the light turned green, and cars began to move. Kafka waited at the pedestrian line, still chewing his toast.
Late again, he thought. Too late. But what's done is done.
He lifted the bread to take another bite—but stopped.
From the corner of his eye, a familiar shade of violet caught his attention.
Turning his head, he saw her.
Raiden Mei—sweat trickling down her cheek, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.
Sensing his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, neither spoke.
"..."
"..."
Ten silent seconds passed before Kafka finally said, "Good morning."
Mei froze slightly at the unexpected greeting. She hesitated, debating whether to respond or pretend she hadn't heard.
In the end, she murmured, "Good morning."
And just like that, the silence returned.
The traffic light turned red, giving them the signal to cross.
This is getting awkward.
This is so awkward.
Both thought the same thing, glancing briefly at each other before looking away again.
"Um… excuse me," Mei spoke up, her voice soft. "Don't you think we're getting too late?"
"I know," Kafka replied flatly. "Aren't you in a hurry?"
"Uh… yes, but…" Mei paused, fidgeting with her bag strap. "Even if I arrive late or early… it's all the same, so… it should be fine."
"I see," Kafka said simply.
The two of them crossed together in silence. The hum of engines, the rustle of wind, and the faint chirping of birds filled the air between them.
As they stepped through the school gates, the morning chatter of students filled the air — laughter, gossip, and hurried footsteps echoing across the courtyard. Mei bowed slightly before parting ways.
"I'll be going first," she said softly.
Kafka nodded. "Alright. See you around."
She gave a faint smile — one that didn't quite reach her eyes — and walked off toward her classroom. Kafka watched her for a moment before heading to his own room.
The hallway was as noisy as ever. Desks scraping, students talking over one another, and yet, to Kafka, it all sounded distant — like faint echoes behind a thick wall of glass.
When he entered, Columbina was already there. Sitting by the window, she hummed the same soft tune she always did, her eyes closed and her brown and shade pink hair glimmering faintly in the sunlight.
"You're late again," she said without opening her eyes.
Kafka placed his bag on the chair and sighed. "I know. Don't remind me."
Columbina stopped humming for a moment and looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You met someone, didn't you?"
Kafka blinked. "How'd you know?"
She smiled faintly, turning her gaze back outside. "You look… different. Calmer. Maybe that person did something to your mood."
Kafka slumped in his seat, looking at his desk. "It's nothing like that. Just a small talk with a girl on the way."
"Mm." Columbina's hum returned, soft and melodic. "Even small talks can mean something."
"Or nothing at all," Kafka replied.
"That depends on you," she said simply, her tone light but sharp enough to linger.
Kafka didn't reply. His eyes drifted to the window — where sunlight poured in like waves of warmth he couldn't quite feel. He stared quietly, the faint echo of Columbina's humming pulling him deeper into thought.
'What even makes something meaningful? A greeting? A conversation? A person?'
His hand clenched on his lap, but he didn't know why.
The classroom door slid open again, and the teacher's voice broke the silence.
"Alright, everyone, back to your seats. Let's begin."
Kafka's thoughts scattered, fading into the noise of the room as the lesson started.
With that, lunch arrived, the bell ringing loudly across the classroom. Students immediately set aside their belongings, rushing toward the door in groups — laughter, chatter, and footsteps echoing in every direction.
Kafka didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the far corner of the room, his mind lost somewhere else entirely.
"You'll make me blush if you keep staring at me like that, Kafka," Columbina teased, resting her cheek on her palm. A faint blush touched her pale skin, though her tone was light, almost playful.
Kafka blinked, realizing he'd been staring without noticing. "...Forget it. I'm going to the canteen. Do you want anything?"
"Melon bread. Or bread. Or... anything but bread," she said, smiling with that same contradictory tone she always used.
"Anything as long as it's bread, then," Kafka replied dryly, grabbing his wallet and heading toward the door.
He stepped into the hallway. The usual noise of students filled the air — the clatter of lockers, the chatter of overlapping voices — but to Kafka, it all sounded distant, muffled. His mind wandered aimlessly as his feet carried him forward.
Before long, the sound of the crowd faded. When he looked up, he was standing in front of the emergency exit.
'How did I even get here?' he thought, his expression blank.
He sighed quietly and turned toward the stairwell, deciding to take a shortcut down.
Just as he placed his foot on the first step —
BANG!
A sharp, echoing crash cut through the silence. Kafka froze. The sound had come from behind him — near the women's bathroom.
He hesitated, frowning slightly. "...What now?"
Before he could turn away, voices erupted.
"Seriously?! When will you stop showing your face here?!"
"Don't you get tired of pretending you belong here?!"
"Just disappear already!"
Three, maybe four voices — female, sharp, dripping with contempt.
Kafka stood still, his expression unreadable. The noise carried through the empty hallway, each word cutting through the air.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
'What am I doing…?'
He didn't know if it was curiosity, irritation, or something else entirely — but his feet moved on their own.
Kafka turned and started walking toward the women's bathroom.
The closer he got, the clearer the voices became — sharp and venomous.
"Still pretending to be a saint? You think you're better than us just because of your name?"
A dull thud followed — the sound of something hitting the floor.
Kafka stopped in front of the bathroom door. His hand hovered near the handle but didn't touch it. He didn't need to open it; the scene was already unfolding vividly in his mind.
Through the small gap, he could hear muffled sobs and shuffling feet.
"Hey, answer me when I talk to you!" another voice sneered, followed by the sound of a slap — soft, but enough to make Kafka flinch.
He exhaled quietly through his nose, his jaw tightening.
'Raiden Mei again, huh...' he thought, remembering the purple-haired girl he'd seen that morning. The heiress whose father's name had become a stain. The one who kept her head down even when the whole world looked down on her.
For a long moment, Kafka did nothing. He simply stood there, his shadow stretching against the floor tiles, listening.
He could hear them laughing — not the laughter of joy, but of cruelty and control.
And yet… his hand didn't move.
'If I interfere, they'll just turn on me too. And if I don't, she'll still be hurt. Either way, nothing changes.'
It was a cold, rational thought — the kind that numbed the edges of guilt before it could form.
He turned away.
Just as he took a step, something inside him faltered — an ache, dull and heavy, like a conscience whispering under his skin.
He glanced back once more. The laughter had stopped. Only quiet sobbing remained.
Kafka sighed deeply, lowering his head. "...I really am the worst," he muttered, voice barely audible.
He walked away — each step slow, deliberate, echoing down the hallway until he reached the stairs.
The sunlight from the nearby window hit his face, and for a moment, he stopped. He looked down at his hand — still trembling faintly — and clenched it into a fist.
"Why do I even care…"
But even as he said that, he knew it was a lie.
Clicking his tongue, Kafka turned back toward the bathroom door and pushed it open.
The faint smell of perfume and cheap floral soap filled the air. Inside, the tiled floor gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light. Three girls stood in front of the mirror, surrounding another — Raiden Mei.
Her back pressed against the cold sink, hands gripping its edge as if holding herself steady. Her purple hair hid half her face, and her eyes stared down at the floor — empty, drained.
"Look at her," one of the girls sneered, her voice laced with fake pity. "Still acting so innocent after your daddy ruined people's lives?"
"Pathetic," another said, flipping her hair. "Your name used to mean something. Now it's just a joke."
Kafka froze by the door, his shadow spilling across the tiles. He didn't move, didn't speak — just watched.
Raiden Mei said nothing, not a sound. Only the slight tremble in her shoulders betrayed how hard she was holding back.
For a moment, Kafka thought of walking away again. It wasn't his problem. It never was.
And yet, his hand clenched.
He clicked his tongue again — louder this time.
They turned around at once, startled by the creak of the door. When they saw who it was, all three girls clicked their tongues in irritation.
"Oi, what are you doing here?" one of them snapped, crossing her arms. Her tone dripped with contempt, the kind reserved for someone caught where they didn't belong.
Kafka froze in place, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find his words. "I… I came to check what the noise was," he said, forcing an awkward smile that even he didn't believe.
"This is the women's bathroom, idiot," another girl shot back, her glare sharp enough to cut. "You think you can just barge in because you heard something?"
"I know, but—" Kafka began, his voice faltering as his eyes shifted between them and Mei, who still stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I just thought maybe the teacher heard the commotion, so I came to warn—"
Before he could finish, one of the girls shoved past him, her shoulder hitting his chest with deliberate force.
"Whatever," she hissed, brushing his arm off like dirt. "We were done anyway."
The others followed suit, laughing under their breath as they exited the bathroom, their perfume trailing after them like smoke.
And just like that, silence returned — heavy and uncomfortable.
Kafka stood there, still at the doorway, staring at Mei's trembling hands as she kept her head low.
He swallowed hard, unsure whether to speak or simply walk away again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the faint hum of the fluorescent light and the dripping of a leaky faucet filled the silence.
Kafka exhaled softly and scratched the back of his head. "...You okay?" he finally asked, his voice almost uncertain if it had the right to speak.
Mei didn't answer. Her hands clenched tighter around the strap of her skirt as she tried to steady her breathing.
Kafka stepped closer, but stopped halfway, unsure how far was too far. "I mean… you don't have to answer. Just— I thought maybe I should check, that's all."
Her shoulders trembled slightly. "...Why did you come here?" she muttered, still not looking up.
He blinked, caught off guard. "Because it was loud," he said plainly. "And, well, I didn't really think much about it."
A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You shouldn't have bothered. Now they'll just talk about you too."
Kafka frowned. "Let them. People already talk about me anyway."
That earned a slight glance from her, faint but real. He saw her eyes—tired, yet filled with something fragile, like she was holding back too much at once.
For a brief moment, Kafka didn't know what else to say. He looked away, then back at her. "If… if it happens again, just tell me. I'll handle it."
Mei's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she simply nodded.
Kafka nodded back, awkwardly scratching his cheek. "Good. Uh… maybe don't tell anyone I was in here. I don't think I'll survive another rumor."
That finally drew a small, almost invisible smile from Mei.
And for the first time, the tension in the air began to ease.
"Right, I should be going now… see you later, I guess…"
"Hm… see you later, and thank you." Mei replied softly, and Kafka only nodded and immediately moved away, afraid some girls might come in and labeled him as a pervert.
[END]