Chapter 4: what is that mask?
During class, Cain sat quietly while the teacher continued the lesson. He glanced toward the window beside the door, checking the hallway out of habit. That was when he notice something.
A mask was positioned just outside the glass.
It floated at the height of a human face, but there was no body attached to it. The mask had a sad expression painted across it, the eyebrows curved downward and the lips pulled into a frown. Thin lines of gold framed the eyes and traced along the cheeks like decorative cracks, as if the mask had been repaired too many times.
Cain squinted, trying to understand what he was looking at. "Am I hallucinating?" The longer he stared, the clearer it became.
Behind the mask was a shadow, a tall and thin creature. Its body almost filled the entire hallway. The legs were too long, the arms reached down past where its knees should be, and its posture bent forward as if it was trying to squeeze itself closer to the window.
In its left hand, the creature held a bunch of red balloons. The strings were pulled tight, as if the balloons were trying to escape from its grip.
Its right hand moved slowly, waving at him with stiff movement.
Then he saw it.
Blood began to drip from the mask's golden eye slits, running down the cheeks in thin streams. More spilled from the mouth opening. The figure did not move away. It simply watched Cain.
A cold rush went down Cain's body. Goosebumps crawled across his arms. His legs stood up by themselves, maybe his instinct kicked in.
The sudden movement caught the teacher's attention.
"Adams!" the professor barked sharply. "Why are you standing up while I'm discussing?" His tone was strict but controlled. "What exactly are you staring at outside? Explain yourself."
Cain swallowed and pointed toward the window. "There is someone outside… wearing a mask."
"A man in a mask?" the professor repeated, one eyebrow rising with irritation.
"Yes. A mask with a sad face," Cain said. "It's right outside the door now."
The professor sighed through his nose, clearly annoyed. "A sad mask…? Adams, enough with distractions." He walked to the door with firm steps. "If someone is truly outside my classroom, I will handle it."
He opened the door. Nothing. The hallway was empty.
The professor's jaw tightened. He shut the door harder than necessary. "Adams," he said sternly, "this is a college lecture, not a playground. I expect focus and basic discipline. Do not interrupt my class with nonsense again. Sit down and pay attention."
Before Cain could respond, Eliza turned her head slightly, covering her nose with a small lace handkerchief as if his presence polluted the air.
"Honestly," she said loud enough for the class to hear, her voice dripping with spoiled elegance. "Only a peasant would behave like that in a prestigious institution. No composure. No manners. No understanding of etiquette." She gave a soft, arrogant laugh. "To disrupt the lesson over some imaginary thing… it is embarrassing even to witness."
A few students snickered who tried to hide it. Some didn't bother.
Cain sat down, eyes still locked on the window. The mask was gone. The shadow was gone. But the feeling stayed—like something had pressed cold fingers against the back of his neck.
History class finished. Students began standing up, talking about the next schedules. Cain moved slower, still glancing at the window.
There was one more class before lunch.
And Cain had the uneasy feeling that whatever he saw… wasn't done with him yet.
Then a new professor arrived, her name is Gina Delzy, twenty-seven years old, stood in front of the class with a calm expression. She held a marker in one hand and pointed at the whiteboard where the words Forms of Art were written in clean, straight handwriting. this was their art foundation class from nine to ten in the morning.
She spoke in a steady voice.
"Art has many branches. Today, we start with the basic forms: visual arts, performing arts, literary arts, and applied arts. Each form has its own purpose, its own method, and its own influence on how we express ideas."
The class listened quietly, some taking notes, some pretending to. Eliza, sitting with her arms crossed, sighed loudly.
"Hmph. This is a child-play," she said, lifting her chin. "I already finished private art classes when I was five. This level is too unnecessary,
it's just a waste of time." She spoke with confidence, not even looking at the teacher.
Miss Gina continued her lesson without reacting.
"Visual arts include drawing, painting, sculpture, and photography. These forms rely on images to communicate. Understanding them is important before you can advance to other techniques."
Cain sat, pretending to look at the board. But his mind was drifting away from the lesson. He couldn't focus. Not after what he saw earlier in the hallway. That tall figure behind it. Those red balloons. The blood dripping from the mask.
In his circling thoughts, "I'm not even scared of someone holding a knife or a gun. Well… okay, maybe a little. Fine, a lot. But that's normal. Everyone's scared of knives and guns."
No, my real fears are few. Only three.
First: ghosts. He shivered just thinking about them. Ghosts were the worst. You couldn't hit them. You couldn't outrun them.
Second: deep water. Rivers, lakes, the ocean, even swimming pools. He could barely float in a bathtub. The last time he tried swimming, he sank halfway to the bottom before anyone could notice. The mere thought of water deeper than his waist make him pale.
Third: dogs. Evil, those furry demons. They bark at him relentlessly and try to sink their teeth into his legs or chew his shoes every time he crosses their path—almost a hundred times over.
While Miss Gina already moved to the next part. "Performing arts include dance, theater, and music. These forms are based on movement and sound. They express emotion through action."
Eliza rolled her eyes and whispered to the girl beside her, "I could teach this class better than her. Honestly, what a boring morning."
Cain forced himself to look up and focus, but his gaze kept sliding toward the window, afraid the mask might still be there.
The lesson dragged on, with Miss Gina finishing her last notes on the board. Finally, she clapped her hands lightly. "Alright, that's enough for today. Time for lunch. Don't be late to your next class."
Cain closed his notebook slowly, his mind still replaying the mask in the hallway. He decided he needed some space, some quiet… maybe the rooftop. Surely he was just imagining things. Ghosts weren't real, right?
As he stood up, stretching his stiff legs, a familiar voice cut through the chatter of students packing their bags.
"Oh, look at you." Eliza's voice dripped with amusement and condescension. Cain turned slightly, seeing her smirk as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Not going to eat in the cafeteria, peasant?" She let out a soft, teasing laugh. "Ohh, I see… you can't afford it, can you? How adorable."
She tilted her head. "Honestly, it's really quite cute watching you try. All these fancy trays and food, and here you are, probably thinking about ramen or something." She waved one hand. "Do you want food? I wouldn't want the poor little Oldman to faint from hunger after all hahaha bye peasant~~~."
Cain swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep walking. He ignored the snickers from nearby students and headed toward the stairwell that led to the rooftop. His heartbeat quickened—not from exertion, but from the thought that somewhere along the way, that floating mask might be waiting for him.