《Stranded in Thoughts》


 Prologue

    He was coming. Fast.


    The pain in my left shoulder throbbed relentlessly as I caught my breath. I was running away from the onslaught that was happening in the hotel where we were staying. The smell of blood and flesh had clung to me. I feared that it might linger on until my last breath.


    I stubbed my toe on a rock, tumbled on the muddy ground¡ªface first¡ªand swore. I brought my right elbow at my side and pushed myself up, hardly noticing my quivering fingers, only to stagger at my left side and drop to my knees. Even with how groggy I felt, I still forced myself to crawl forward. The winds were blowing angrily; a premonition that it would happen to me as well. I¡¯d be next.


    And then the gruesome scenario flashed back.


    Everything played in reverse and I was stuck on my knees, finding it hard to get up. I pounded the ground, splashing mud around and onto my face, and screamed out loud like I didn¡¯t care anymore if he¡¯d catch up. I couldn¡¯t believe myself that I left her¡ªthat I left her with him.


    God, please, not her.


    I collected myself and gulped everything down. I had to escape. I had to tell someone.


    Then I sprinted toward the woods.


    What made escaping hard was my left arm; it was gone. He ripped it out if I was to say, but the way it happened in which I noticed with both my eyes was too impossible. He only left me with a blood-soaked shoulder and a broken bone protruding from it, and I left a trace of blood on my tracks, which would surely hint my pursuer.


    My shoulder kept on throbbing. I could feel the blood trickling down my side as I dashed off haphazardly, not thinking too much where to go as long as he would not reach me.


    This was not what I wanted. This was not the honeymoon I had pictured in my head when I planned everything.


    I couldn¡¯t believe myself that I left her. I hoped she had escaped somehow.


    My wife and I were ecstatic about this trip: we were beyond elated! Everything was planned already and we were expecting things to happen smoothly and with few surprises if any.


    But all turned to one-eighty.


    It was already midnight and the cries and screams of people from the hotel could still reach my ears even with how far I already got. The smell of death now clung in the air.


    I plunged to the outskirts of the woods and forced my way through the shrubs and thick foliage in the darkness; however, it was not as dark as how one would imagine it. The whole place was strangely luminous: the trees emitted a kind of purple light that simmered around the area, making the night less dark, or as what a carnival at night would look like. I could still see the ground that I was trekking on. I was afraid he might be able to follow me quicker than I thought.


    I stumbled upon an opening through the trees and pushed myself a little more to pass through. I paused and heaved and winced. I was losing a lot of blood. I had to at least send the word to the outside world before I¡¯d die.


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    I limped my way through a bleak and ghastly shore with no one else around. My vision was treacherously thinning the more I was losing blood. I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my amputated shoulder to slow down the bleeding.


    I found a small cliff at the far corner of the shoreline and dashed to it. My phone still had one bar when I got it out, thankful that I could still use it to find help. However, my hopes shattered once I found out there was no signal.


    ¡°Hey, weren¡¯t we having a little fun earlier? Why did you run off?¡±


    The shrill voice behind gave me horror and goosebumps; his stealthiness, uncanny. I didn¡¯t even notice per se that he already caught up.


    He stretched his arms and grabbed my bed hair; then slammed my face onto the rocky cliff. I felt some of my teeth come off as soon as he lifted my head with one arm. The strength that he possessed was otherworldly.


    I lost sight in my left eye and somehow knew that my face was damp with blood and sweat. The plutonian night aided in blocking almost ninety percent of my right eye vision. I couldn¡¯t even see the expression he was wearing as he kept on slamming my broken face onto the ground a couple more times, but I somehow knew that he was having fun based on his demonic laughter.


    Finally, maybe with satisfaction, he stopped. He was now dragging me somewhere, off the sandy shore, toward the grassy soil. He ceased walking, and then he hung me from a protuberance by the hole in my left shoulder that he just punctured by his touch alone.


    No effort, no force applied.


    Just his touch.


    I could barely feel the pain anymore because my body started becoming as numb as hell.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re not even screaming, and your expression starts to bore me. Can you at least whimper for me?¡± the lunatic asked in a forlorn voice as if disappointed by me.


    I moved my lips in a grand effort and managed to utter some words, ¡°... she... o... kay...¡±


    ¡°What? What, what, what?¡± he asked repeatedly with a tinge of fake curiosity. I couldn¡¯t see him anymore, but I could still sense the mockery in his voice.


    ¡°I... said... she... okay...¡±


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re talking gibberish. Oh, how ¡®bout I burst your feet? Would that give you enough motivation to speak more?¡±


    He grabbed my left foot without waiting for my confirmation. It splintered within seconds, definitely spraying blood and tissues alike around the perimeter. He laughed diabolically before proceeding to the other foot.


    It gave me an unprecedented splurge of pain, which made me scream my remaining air out of my lungs.


    He then went to my side; he lowered me down a bit and whispered something in my ear with as much joy as he could manifest. ¡°Hey. Now. Talk.¡±


    ¡°My... wife...¡± I stopped midway and coughed up blood.


    I felt him leaning closer. ¡°Oh, your wife?¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond. Rather, I couldn¡¯t respond anymore.


    ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to tell you now. It¡¯s my little gift for you before you¡¯ll be gone off this world. We let that bitch off the hook to lure the second set of subjects who might carry a creator with her. We didn¡¯t find the person in your group in the hotel.¡±


    He leaned closer; his lips almost touching my ears. ¡°Oh, by the way, we erased her memory of yours. She now thinks that she¡¯s married to another man. He¡¯s one of your friends in the hotel. You know, just for fun.¡±


    I growled and shook my entire body, wanting to lash out at this lunatic. I couldn¡¯t even spit on his face. I pitied myself for dying in such a sorry state.


    He heaved and threw me on the prickly grass and kicked the back of my head, which gave me a concussion. He snatched my other arm and ripped it off my shoulder. Then, he punctured my chest and grabbed a hold of my heart.


    ¡°Now, any last words?¡±


    There was a pause before he added, ¡°Oh, yeah. You don¡¯t like to speak.¡±


    With one solid motion, my heart burst without even applying any force onto it.


    Just before I submitted to death, he touched my head in a way that was too promising not to hurt me any longer. It exploded into tiny pieces of meat and blood milliseconds later. I somehow knew this because my consciousness held on for a little longer¡ªlonger enough for me to feel it.

 Chapter 1 – The Secret

    I hated schools the most.


    I was just having a splendid dream about my crush, who¡ªby the way¡ªwas the most beautiful girl I found in that boring school when an earthquake woke me up. Not a destructive one, but it would surely spring you up and out of the bed and make your knees wobble.


    Earthquakes were recently occurring here in Cebu.


    It made me nervous because I was kind of an irrationally anxious person. A paranoid who always thought the world could end any minute. Not to mention, I was sentimental and sensitive. Yes, you could judge me, but you couldn¡¯t actually judge me. I mean, you had never been with me my entire life, so how in the name of Karens could you say something negative about my personality?


    If you were to know me, though, there was only one notable thing that you would always remember. I had a natural sloth, and yes, I¡¯d admit it. I¡¯d love to procrastinate and not do things in haste as I believed all things would come in due time.


    In fact, I was known as Josh the lazy bum; a title I earned that I didn¡¯t like. My friends gave me the infamous alias, and even if I disliked it that much, I had come to terms with it.


    Well, as far as I had known, I was still good with my life being a procrastinator and I had never felt rushing things. So, I¡¯d appreciate it if people would leave me be and allow me to do my own thing.


    Anyway, that quake made my adrenaline gland produce hormones faster than how I was always rejected by many girls I had confessed to, which made me storm to my parents¡¯ room to wake them out of their dreamland fantasies. They were lovey-dovey with each other and they wouldn¡¯t want someone to come in their bedroom, even their children, as we might catch them doing something that I had yet to experience; unless, it was an emergency. And it was an emergency.


    Fortunately, the quake stopped after a few seconds, and all our worries evaporated. It was Sunday morning of January and tomorrow was the first day of school 2020. Just the thought of going back to school could put weights on my shoulders. By then, I¡¯d start to slouch. School was as backbreaking as any manual labor.


    I had a great Christmas break and as much as possible I¡¯d want to treasure the memory until it would last because everything good and memorable that happened to me would surely go numb when classes would resume. I didn¡¯t want to go back to school right away because I had not had enough of my vacation plans yet. I¡¯d still want to go beaching and mountaineering with my friends and chitchat for hours about anything. If there was one thing that I was not lazy doing¡ªit was traveling.


    And I knew that you might not have guessed it right, but I was not a student.


    I was a teacher.


    This had given me more reasons to hate schools. When I was a student, I promised myself that I¡¯d never, ever, be part of any school when I¡¯d grow up. I wanted to become an architect, but money played a big role in being one. Being born to a not-so-lucky family¡ªbut a loving one¡ªforced me to find a much cheaper career path.


    So, here I was.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, though. As the years passed by, I came to meet my passion for teaching halfway in my life, and so far, I was enjoying it. There were still some regrets, but I was keeping them from letting myself give up on this career that I had chosen. Luckily, I got another reason to stay, and I believed you knew what it was already.


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    It was just that I hated doing lesson plans. We¡¯d make our LPs after implementing a lesson, which would make it not any more of a plan. It was more like a log: keeping track of what I had done in the classroom. It might just be me, though, because I was too lazy to do it, the planning, and I hated it when my lessons were already pieced and crafted. I was spontaneous in my delivery of instructions and the activities would change from time to time depending on the students¡¯ needs, and sometimes the availability of the resources, but most likely if I was prepared or not.


    The bottom line was, I was liking teaching the more I taught, and I had to do something with my laziness if I wanted to keep it like that.


    Of course, if given a chance to change career, I¡¯d have done so two years ago. There was this friend of mine who offered to pay for all the expenses for my enrollment in Cebu Engineering and Architectural Arts University before. I¡¯d like to accept it but, you know, Jef was not an ordinarily generous person.


    Everything that Jef offered to guys had a price to pay on its own, and it was not monetary. He would help them when they were in need, but in some ways, he also needed something in return for himself. It was a kind gesture, though¡ªthe helping. I heard he got a rich history of dating guys, and another friend told me that he had had his eyes on me. I did like Jef as a friend, but I had not ever thought of being with a guy. In fact, I had someone that I liked now.


    And had I told you my secret?


    This secret was neither the nondescript secret stories that you watched in movies nor the ones you heard from radios, not even those you read from books. It was way bigger. It was, as what I wanted to call it, grandeur.


    This secret was something that you would not believe the first time you would hear it. Well, there might be a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that you wouldn¡¯t totally believe me. Nobody knew this, and I almost accidentally spilled it out because one of my colleagues asked us to share our deepest secrets. It might be so ironic for a deep secret to be dug up and made known, but she was an exquisite and irresistible individual; one you could hardly keep a secret from once she would ask you. The way she would talk alone could hypnotize anyone, and her smile was the Tezuka zone that you wouldn¡¯t want to be sucked into; unless, she was your crush.


    You see, I had the power to imagine things out and make them happen. Whatever I¡¯d think, for some reason, would become a reality.


    Yes, you heard it right. And I might be also right that you might not believe me or wouldn¡¯t even have the slightest chance to believe me at all. It was fine with me, though, because I knew that it was impossible. It only happened once, and what I envisioned in my mind during that time disappeared eventually, which made me doubt it for a hallucination. However, I had never been to drugs¡ªthank God, I didn¡¯t find it fancy¡ªand I was a completely healthy individual, so that event was real. It happened during my seventeenth birthday.


    It all began when they had brought my cake inside my room and one of my friends had tried to pour flour on my head. They were all singing Happy Birthday in an awful tune when Freddy pulled something out from his pockets and stretched his arms out. Luckily for me, I was able to think fast. I imagined that whatever Freddy would pour on me would be turned to assorted flowers. And, Voila! Different flowers decorated my bed.


    All of them were stupefied, including me, which then turned into fits of laughter. They all thought I had done a gimmick there¡ªI did magic sometimes with my friends, which explained why they thought I was pulling their legs¡ªbut they didn¡¯t know that even myself was intrigued by it. Later that evening, when everyone was already gone, I immediately washed my face in the comfort room because it felt as sticky as hell. By the time I came back, my bed sheet was all covered in disgusting, wet flour where flowers should have been.


    The event made me think and experiment about what I did during that time.


    It didn¡¯t happen again.


    No one knew what would come out of it, anyway.

 Chapter 2 – The Hopeless, Romantic Girl

    ¡°Hand me some buwad, Olly.¡±


    ¡°Why are you the one who always orders around here? Would you just stand and help yourself?¡±


    ¡°Come again? Remember the Penshoppe bag I bought you?¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. I know it¡¯s coming. You¡¯re always making use of your trump card. In fact, it¡¯s more of a normal one now.¡±


    ¡°Are you still flapping those lips?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Here¡¯s your buwad, ate.¡±


    It was a sunny afternoon, flabbergastingly serene weather, for the two of us. Christmas just went by. Lots of firecracker wastes and party poppers dotted the streets and canals. Leftovers of Piccolo, Sinturon ni Hudas, and lots of trash littered the whole sitio. It was an extended season of family love and merrymaking, yet for me, it was another season when I¡¯d look after my silly sister, and I didn¡¯t want to be a babysitter.


    My name was Jelly and I was a twenty-two-year-old Science teacher at Arullina National High School who advised tenth graders. Molly, my sister, was a twenty-year-old call center agent who was the total opposite of me. She loved shopping and going out on dates with her popular-but-not-so-gentleman boyfriend. One thing I hated about her was how she always had a new boyfriend almost every three months. Christian was her fifteenth boyfriend now, and she had her eyes on a new prospect ready to take over once they could not resolve their piled-up arguments anymore. I always scolded her about this because I didn¡¯t want her to look like a slut, but the thing that I could not tell her was that I was just jealous.


    Being a teacher was a tough job, not only that the profession would expect too much from you, but also that it would get you so busy you could say goodbye to things such as love. Don¡¯t find love; if it comes, it comes. Let love find you, they said. That was what I believed in. I always had this lucky charm in my purse that was supposed to ¡°attract¡± love wherever I¡¯d go. I¡¯d carry it around with me and sometimes had it blessed by a priest in every occasion in churches I could attend to, or in a weekly Christian gathering¡ªcalled The Feast.


    I had crushes before. One was during my high school days and I had not set my standards high then. Not when my Korean bebe boys happened. It all happened during my fourth year in Mandaue Middle High School when I was the president of the student council. I was plotting the activities for the upcoming school fair when a freshman came into the office to submit his class¡¯ suggested booth for their level, and I was the only officer available that afternoon because the rest were busy in their class tasks.


    The freshy was named Rico, and he was tall, dark, and¡­ was standing near the door trying to act cool and all. And if you were expecting handsome, no, he was not at all. As he stood, it was obvious how anxious he was just by looking at his demeanor. Upon entering the office, he handed the documents smoothly with an awkward and dentally impaired smile. He left me with an awful pickup line as if trying to pick on some girls who were out of his league. If it were for other girls, they would surely find it cringy and disgusting because this boy was odd-looking, and to add with his crooked and some missing teeth, he had a severe problem with his breath. Not to mention his acnes and pimples.


    But not for me.


    I experienced the suspension bridge effect right at that moment. I kept it to myself and didn¡¯t even attempt to talk to Rico casually, even after he joined the council. I soon graduated and my feelings remained sealed and undelivered. I later knew that he had signed up for the responsibilities of a secretary because he wanted to establish a close relationship with me. Little did I know he also had eyes for me.


    It was too late, though.


    My second crush budded during my first year at Cebu Education University. There was this classmate of mine who used to give me a ride on his motorbike to school. Part of my route was to pass by the sidewalk of P-mall, and Joshua might have seen me and thought of reaching out to at least ease my burden of walking another fifty meters to the university. The gesture and his presence made me giddy inside, but I didn¡¯t know that this person¡¯s motive was to have the privilege of copying my notes whenever he was absent from class. The problem was, he was mostly absent the entire school year. He had been transferred to another school during our second year of college due to some serious issues he was involved in¡ªlike alcohol and drugs.


    I was blind.


    I liked another guy, Troy, when I had reached my fourth year at the university. This type of crush this time came in unnoticed. I didn¡¯t have an ounce of feelings for him for almost three years, even though we were classmates, but the more I saw him speak and perform on stage (he was a talented public speaker and orator), the more I noticed him¡ªwhich made me fall in love with him, eventually. The sad thing was that I couldn¡¯t brave myself up to confess to him until he fell in love with my other classmate, Sasha, and they were still happy even up to this date. I could only think so much about the torture of seeing them happy every day on Facebook and Instagram.


    It had been years since then.


    And, I was still single, which had given my colleagues the pleasure to tease me since most of them had their love life figured out already, and some were even happily married. Except for my besties at work. We came in the same batch, and I should say I felt relieved they supported me with all my seeking-for-love thing. With them, I felt a sense of belongingness.


    Upon finishing our meal, I collected the plates and dumped them in the kitchen sink. The smell of Smart dish-washing soap and rotten, old food wastes still clung in the air, but it never bothered us anymore because we were already getting used to it. It was only the two of us in the chaotic room: crumpled pieces of paper, wrappers of different junk food, chocolate wastes (I liked chocolates), used tissues, Schick razors, and anything that you could fit in your imagination littered the small space. The two of us were not like this before, especially when we were still living with our parents, when they were still alive, in our hometown. We lived in the far north of Cebu, Tabogon, and we would only visit twice a month or during special occasions like Christmas, birthdays, and death anniversaries. The two of us decided to rent a room in a boarding house in Lapu-Lapu when Molly first landed a job as an encoder. It was because we couldn¡¯t afford to commute every day, and it was tedious to always wait for a bus in a crowded terminal. Also, we both didn¡¯t like dirty and crowded places.


    How ironic it was for us now.


    ¡°Ate, I gotta go buy a drink. What would you like?¡± Molly asked out of the blue. She was seated on a pillow-seat cushion placed on the floor, wearing short denim shorts paired with a white tank top. Her eyes were barely looking at me because they were glued at the TV situated at the corner of the room. Despite the room being messy, the leafy, green-painted walls accentuated the ambiance of the whole chamber at least. There was a partitioned room by a curtain at the right side of our home dedicated as our sleeping area, and a comfort and shower room in one, compact space just next to it. We both shared a bed, but we didn¡¯t sleep together because of our different job schedules.


    The living area consisted of three main furniture only: the low table, serving as our dining area on the left side, near the kitchen sink (we only sit on the floor when eating); the TV cabinet with different stuffed toys displayed on the shelves; and a Whirlpool fridge at the opposite corner. Not having an air-conditioning appliance was a thing that we needed to deal with if we wanted to cut our electricity bill in half. To make up for it, we bought and installed one big ceiling fan in the living area and a stand fan in our provisional bedroom. It was so bare that not even a cockroach would want to live with us if not with the trash littering around.


    In short, it was a cramped room.


    ¡°Buy me a can of Coke. Include a pack of Whisper with wings. Here, you can keep the change.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thanks!¡±


    When Molly was already out, I pulled my phone and called my best friend. There was more of a chance of a shooting star tonight than not calling Vhina every fortnight. While waiting for Vhina to answer the call, I recalled the blurry images that I frequently dreamed about. It was a woman with long hair and a sweet voice who always said ¡°I love you¡± to me. Though I had a guess that it was our mother, I couldn¡¯t just figure it out since we didn¡¯t know how she looked like. It was like we forgot her whole existence.


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    Actually, I felt like I was missing a lot of things in my life. It felt like I skipped some years and then became a teacher. I couldn¡¯t even clearly remember my childhood.


    There was a click on the other end and a wheezing voice coughed, adding sickly: ¡°Hey, been waiting for almost a century for your call.¡±


    ¡°What happened? Seems like you¡¯ve caught a cold,¡± I furrowed my brows, showing how concerned I was with her condition. I could still remember the moment of happiness we cherished when both of us got accepted in the same school we applied for.


    ¡°Just a cold. Been doing great here, though. How was your paperwork?¡±


    I could hear the pounding keys on a keyboard on the other end of the phone. My worry turned to realization as I remembered I was not yet done with my final term of lesson plans.


    Damn.


    I rushed into our bedroom and opened my laptop. Had it not been for the deadlines I needed to meet, I¡¯d surely gaze at the wonders of our sleeping area. It was unlikely for me not to have a glimpse of V¡¯s blazing smile, nor even touch Jungkook¡¯s glossy-white face. Different posters of BTS were hung and posted on every wall and corner of the room. There were even figurines displayed on bookshelves where books should have been, and standees that were meticulously placed at the bed-end. I just thought it was a wonderful thing for me to see them first thing in the morning after waking up. Even the calendar that was hanging on the door was designed with each member of the Korean boy group in their summer outfit.


    I could only fantasize about them in this little space, though. No one knew this, except, of course, Molly, since we both shared the space, and luckily, it didn¡¯t bother her. No one could dictate my life with my boys. Not Vhina. Not even my sister.


    It was my separate world. My own world.


    With my phone placed between my right ear and shoulder, I entered my password right after my computer had started. My password had already crossed seas and climbed mountains over the years, and still, nothing had changed¡ªMom143. A melancholic memory visited me but only for a while because it was overshadowed by the looming deadlines.


    There was a buzz on the other end of the phone, followed by a dry cough. Four dry coughs and a weak voice¡ªweaker than before: ¡°Hey, you still there?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sick, Vhi. Try to have some rest for now. I¡¯ll ring you up later.¡± I pocketed my phone and opened the documents I needed to finish.


    Alright. Time to work.


    ? ? ?


    Sitting on a cushioned monobloc chair, I tried to call the number again. It had been ten times now since contacting the number written on the sticky note that was posted on my little mirror, blocking my reflection, not serving its purpose anymore. I didn¡¯t want to look at myself because I thought of myself as unattractive, or as what I sometimes called myself, especially in moments of weakness¡ªmonstrous. In fact, the only reason I could think about why I was still single was that no one liked my face.


    The moon was already up in the sky. The temperature gradually dropped as time passed by.


    ¡°Oh, hello, um, I¡¯m sorry if I was not able to contact you earlier, cher,¡± I murmured, trying my best to sound polite. I couldn¡¯t handle any screaming and scolding, but I liked doing it myself¡ªespecially to Molly¡¯s misdoings.


    ¡°Cher, you know it¡¯s almost seven p.m., right?¡± answered by the person on the other end matter-of-factly.


    ¡°Yes, I know, but I have a serious problem with my activities. The curriculum is kind of hard to understand, too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your problem, not mine. I¡¯m having my kind of fun here¡ªjust so you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, cher. I¡¯m going to submit it right about now, compiled and proofed already.¡±


    ¡°You better do. I don¡¯t want to go through it again against my leisure.¡±


    ¡°Okay, cher, thank you ve¡ª¡±


    The line was cut.


    The person on the other end was teacher Grumpy. Well, that was how she was called in our workplace. She had a big and round head with curly, black hair that had some gray strands already showing on ends. Her eyes would make you think she was half awake and/or half asleep. She had a fat, reddish nose complemented in some ways with her thin, pale lips. She loved wearing red clothes, which intensified her personality more than necessary. She didn¡¯t smile that much like she had been sucked out of joy. Rumor had it that she was always in company with a Dementor.


    The call made me a bit mad, but it only lasted for a short time. The lesson plan¡ªrevised for the nth time already¡ªflashed on the monitor of my laptop. I was about to write something in my notebook about the revisions I had done when a weak earthquake happened, which lasted for five seconds only. This made me drop my ballpoint pen. I sighed and got annoyed. I felt my long, black hair fall smoothly as I bent my slick neck to reach the pen relaxing on the floor. According to my father, and also my sister, I had a beautiful, small face with sparkly, black eyes; a pair of not-so-thick, black eyebrows; and a cute, small nose paired with the lips of an angel.


    Even with how they made it sound so flowery, I just couldn¡¯t believe it. I mean, if I was that gorgeous, a guy or two should have courted me already, right? My sister once asked, ¡°If ugly defines you, what is beauty then?¡± I missed the old sister I once had. Now, all Molly did was to date any men within her grasp.


    I typed the email address and clicked send. This day was finally over. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Last half of the school year tomorrow.


    I went to bed right after.


    ? ? ?


    It was still five in the morning when I was woken up by a loud banging of the door. I was still drowsy when I got up, donning my bedroom slippers. I smiled at the standees at the bed-end and said good morning to them. I stretched my arms up and a soundless yawn escaped from my throat. I scratched my nape, my back, and my thighs before another loud bang¡ªlouder than earlier¡ªechoed from the door once again, followed by a drunken voice: ¡°Ate, open the goddamn door!¡±


    Again? I went to the door and yanked it open, leaving Molly¡¯s knuckled right hand suspended in midair, whose gesture indicated that she was about to knock the door again. She gaped at me. I later realized that I was not wearing a top, and I was only in my underwear.


    ¡°Ate! Don¡¯t just open the door to anyone, especially when you¡¯re covered with nothing!¡± Molly barked in a drunken voice¡ªaccompanied by some unwelcome saliva shower onto my sleepy face.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s you. Come inside. Did you have another fight with Christian?¡± I replied, eyeing her crumpled spaghetti dress topped by a maroon cardigan. Her fake, blonde hair was a mess and a mixture of Emperador and Red Horse hit my nose the moment I closed the distance between us.


    ¡°How come you know? Did he message you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on! What¡¯s new? Find a seat inside and I¡¯ll cook you some Lucky Me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not drunk at all. I¡¯m just tipsy.¡±


    ¡°You reek of alcohol! Come on now before I drag you inside. I was having a fantastic dream earlier until you came, so don¡¯t get on my nerves now.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, ate. Just take this as a blessing in disguise. I got intentionally drunk so I could bang your door to wake you early, and so you could prepare for your class. It¡¯s Monday, you know.¡±


    I threw my eyelids wide open and she might have noticed the realization that hit me. A satisfactory grin flashed on her face for a moment, thinking she had changed the subject from her being drunk to something I¡¯d think about, but it was gone by the moment I reached for the switch at the right side, just next to the door, turning the lights on. We both twitched with the sudden lighting and later went inside.


    After cooking some noodles, I set the bowl on the table and without a minute of hesitation asked: ¡°Tell me what exactly happened.¡±


    She snatched the bowl and had some slurps before answering upfront, ¡°We broke up.¡±


    ¡°Wow. Am I supposed to be surprised? Is there anything about you that is unpredictable?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t start it, ate. I caught him with another girl. I hate him,¡± she replied, and then added two more slurps.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you with this unnecessary dating of yours? Did it ever help you in a way?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t throw your bitterness at me just because you¡¯re still single.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I smirked irritatingly at her and raised my right eyebrow. ¡°What was that again?¡±


    There was a minute of silence before she answered: ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s just that you are supposed to comfort me in this situation, not this!¡±


    ¡°This is my kind of comforting you, Olly! Next time you bring a man here, I promise to heavens that I will leave this room! Don¡¯t you ever think that I don¡¯t know your kinky businesses here with that jerk when I¡¯m not around!¡±


    ¡°Ate, please. Let¡¯s not go there. We¡¯re all grown adults! Of course, we would have that kind of relationship.¡±


    ¡°What? Are you even listening to what you¡¯re babbling about? Do you still have an ounce of decency in you, Olly? You¡¯re doing it here, in our home!¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s too expensive for a hotel. Better as well use what options we have on our hands.¡±


    A whacking sound roared inside the room. Her face was thrown off-guard with the crispy slap she received from me. I just couldn¡¯t control myself any longer. Another moment of deafening silence coated the atmosphere before I stood and approached her sobbing on the floor.


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry. I just¡ª¡± My voice croaked with regret as I attempted to touch her now-turning-bloody-pink left cheek, but my hand was swatted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me! From now on, I¡¯ll try to live on my own!¡± She rushed inside our provisional bedroom and swung the curtains close, leaving me in a temporary mental stupor.


    After a few minutes, with a luggage full of clothes and other things, she went straight out of the room without even turning around to look at me. It was almost six, and the first rays of sunrise were already reflecting on the glass windows. I forced myself to stand with my wobbling knees and then limped my way to the comfort room. I stood there with the shower on, thinking of what I had done. I believed, though, at the back of my mind, that she would just be back in a few days.


    It was not the first time.


    I cleared my head and focused on the upcoming duty that I¡¯d be facing ahead. This was the first day of class 2020, and I¡¯d make sure that I¡¯d be in my best condition before presenting myself in front of my students.

 Chapter 3 – The Back-to-School Hassle

    Mondays.


    Freaking Mondays. Why were Mondays created?


    The sizzling sound of the onions being saut¨¦ed and of the birds chirping outside our apartment brought a relaxing and calming effect on me as I cooked our breakfast in our makeshift kitchen, yet the day being a ¡°Monday¡± drowned all of it.


    I hated Mondays the most.


    Others would see a teacher¡¯s job as much easier than a worker in a convenience store or any fast-food chain because, according to some people who thought highly of themselves, we were just teaching students. One of my students once said that we were so lucky we just needed to sit to get paid. The audacity of the child made me mad; however, I had to cool my head, so I just let it pass through my other ear as a professional.


    They were wrong.


    I might be too lazy to think through this, but all the same, still had an idea as to how it worked. They didn¡¯t know what was happening in a teacher¡¯s schedule. Imagine having to bring all your paperwork at home just to finish them all, which, by the way, was supposedly done within the eight-hour shift that was not at all feasible.


    And Monday was the worst of all.


    I was about to pour last night¡¯s rice when a rustle behind startled me.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re already cooking. I was supposed to do that,¡± my younger brother said with a yawn.


    He went into the kitchen silently¡ªlike an assassin. I liked to call him that. He had been a silent type of person since birth. He was the one assigned to cook our breakfasts, but since I woke up too early, I might as well cook for my family. Vincent looked so sleepy though he always looked like he was. He had sleepy eyes and a crooked, small nose. He had the weirdest complexion I had ever seen in my life: his face down to the left side of his chest was brown; the rest of the upper body (including his arms) down to the hips was lighter; the lower body was dark brown; and his right foot was pinkish brown. Lots of people teased him about this; in fact, he was bullied back in elementary because of the color of his skin. For me, though, it made him unique. And I liked it.


    ¡°Make sure to replace the water gallon and wake mama up,¡± I replied.


    ¡°They are awake. Can you serve me a bowl?¡±


    ¡°Go serve yourself. I¡¯m gonna go take a bath. Get me a towel and a pair of boxers.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s papa?¡±


    ¡°Went to work? What else?¡±


    ¡°Pack my lunch. Just rice. Alright? I¡¯m just gonna step into the bathroom real quick.¡±


    I went in and slid out of my baggy shirt¡ªGod, how I loved to sleep in baggy clothing. The shower was not yet completely fixed, so I used the tabo. While pouring the cold water over my head, I imagined things that would be too impossible to happen in real life. You see, I loved imagining things and there might be a chance for them to happen as I had told you about my power.


    But the main reason was that it was the only thing that I could productively do that required less effort.


    I first imagined that I¡¯d be able to publish books. I was into Linguistics and Literature; in fact, I finished my Education degree majoring in English, and I was currently taking up my master¡¯s in English Language Teaching with a plan to take up any course related to Literature this coming semester. I loved reading and creating stories out of thin air. Sometimes, my ideas were spontaneous that I needed to write them down immediately, or else they would be gone in a matter of seconds. I had been writing lots of stories lately even if they were as bad as how I always made my rice uncooked.


    Uncooked writing¡ªwhat a comparison.


    I didn¡¯t care if it would sell or not, though; I just wanted to share my stories to readers who would find them interesting.


    Hopefully, it would happen.


    I shifted my thoughts to the girl I liked in the school I was currently employed. She joined the faculty last year, but she was assigned on the fourth floor because she was handling lower year levels.


    I was recently transferred to the fifth floor last September because I needed to fill in the classes by one of the teachers on the floor. She was on maternity leave, and she extended it because no one could look after her baby, who somehow got ill. Last December, just before we ended our Christmas party, the headmaster told me that I¡¯d be permanently assigned to the class of year 10A because teacher Shera decided to resign. I soon understood why, and here I was.


    Anyway, back to Chevonne. Although she recently joined, we were just of the same age. She taught Science, and I taught English. I did hate schools, and if given a chance to change jobs, I¡¯d do so¡ªyet she was one of the reasons why I was still going on.


    I first noticed her during our seminar last summer: Teachers¡¯ Furthering of Knowledge. It was a conducive and excellent training for teachers, especially for furthering our teaching pedagogies. Things that we had already learned were being taught again for weeks for us to be honed, and to refresh ourselves of the professional education units that we had almost forgotten.


    Nice, right? Did you think it helped me? No!


    For some reason, my laziness backfired, and I missed the chance to catch on to lots of topics that had been discussed. Gardner¡¯s Multiple Intelligences and Bloom¡¯s Taxonomy had always been a part of us, Education students, since schooling in CEU, and because of it, I just took the seminar for granted. There was no real furthering-of-knowledge that happened to me.


    And, yeah, I knew it was my fault. I understood the consequences and I had forgiven myself already.


    However, there was one thing that had kept me alive and kicking during that seminar¡ªher existence in that room.


    I always caught a glimpse of her talking to her friend. She liked to show off these smiles of hers that could make thousands of men fight against one another, ready to sacrifice their lives for her hand. She was not the typical cute and pabebe girl that you would find anywhere; she was the type of girl that only I could understand¡ªat least, as what I wanted it to be. Pathetic, wasn¡¯t it? Einstein once said that if you couldn¡¯t explain a thing as simple as you could, you didn¡¯t understand it yourself.


    Full of crap.


    Just because you couldn¡¯t explain it simply, didn¡¯t mean that you didn¡¯t understand it at all. Some things were just too complicated to explain. Like emotion. It was the hardest concept to understand in the universe, and I believed that not only human beings could enjoy and obtain it. For me, even non-living things had an emotion in their own way. I sometimes imagined the winds being happy that they were whispering a calming lullaby to me whenever I felt stressed, or that they were singing a sweet and assuring melody whenever I felt lonely and isolated. Just like a loving mother, making me feel loved. I sometimes felt the trees frolicking along with the winds when I traveled around Cebu for some relaxing get-away trips, looking like they were welcoming me even with all my flaws.


    If only I could feel Chevonne¡¯s feelings as well. How wonderful would that be? She loved talking with her friend and would always flash her perfect set of teeth, not caring if it could make someone¡¯s heart skip a bit that would eventually develop into something much more complicated.


    How I wished I was her friend.


    I knew Jelly as a good-natured teacher. She was polite and would solemnly talk with others, except with her close co-teachers and, of course, Chevonne. Apparently, they were classmates in college.


    Vincent pulled me out of my daydream with his call.


    ¡°Kuya, I can¡¯t find any pair of boxers here!¡±


    ¡°Try to dig in deeper. They might have been mixed with my shorts. Or you might have been searching in the wrong drawer!¡±


    ¡°Second to last, right?¡±


    ¡°See? You¡¯re searching the wrong one. It¡¯s in the last drawer, you fool-head. Maybe you should try remembering it next time!¡±


    ¡°Ah, there. Found it!¡±


    I changed to my job-clothes¡ªa complete business attire with a suit, necktie, and all¡ªand jumped to my scooter. I recently got my Honda Beat last year. My friends sometimes teased me with the color I picked, which was pink, but little did they know that it was my favorite. One of the problems in Cebu was the commute and traffic; hence, I wanted my own wheels forth and back for convenience. It was a big bite in my pay, though.


    I fired the engine and drove out of the curb into the hellish prison masked as a school.


    ? ? ?


    I was almost late when I punched in. Some teachers were almost finished with their breakfast in the cafeteria.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I went to my desk in the faculty office, just beside the cafeteria. Each of our areas was in low cubicles wherein you could still see each other even when you were sitting down. There was a transparent glass boundary between each desk, a territorial reminder of where you should and should not put your things. You were lucky if you were sitting with your friend because the boundary might mean nothing, depending on the days you were in good terms.


    Put. Grab. Clean. Pour. Drink.


    It was my daily routine: put my bag on my desk; grab the coffee mug, making sure that the spoon was untouched and still the usual one; clean the insides using only the hot water from the dispenser that was just an arm away from my area; pour my everyday elixir that would keep me functioning throughout the day; and drink the contents, enjoying the mixture and taste of the greatest and cheapest patent in the coffee world¡ªNescafe: Original.


    ¡°Josh, it¡¯s the first day of school, yet same again?¡± one of my friends asked in the cafeteria when I lined up for my food.


    ¡°Wha¡¯d¡¯ya mean by that?¡± I replied lazily.


    ¡°At least, say good morning to me. You¡¯ve been doing this cold treatment for almost three years already. Also, for god¡¯s sake, it¡¯s the first day of the second half of school!¡±


    Yes, I had been teaching at this school for two years and a half. Even I didn¡¯t know how I endured this long. It could be the students that made me stay¡ªof course, aside from my crushing on Chevonne¡ªor the working environment. But definitely not lesson planning. Let me use this analogy that you might have already heard somewhere: if my work was to be personified as my friend, and I was with him, Lenin, and Hitler in the same room with a gun in my hand that had only two bullets, I¡¯d undoubtedly shoot my friend twice.


    That was how I hated it.


    I ordered my usual breakfast: rice, ham, spam, and sunny-side up. I¡¯d eat breakfast twice for the sake of having an excuse to talk with my friends, not making it too obvious that I wanted to converse and have fun with them. I told the one who was managing the cafeteria to list my meal, and then I sat beside Veruca. She was a feisty individual for a four-footer. She might have been deep asleep when God gifted heights to people.


    I sliced my egg, ate a piece, and asked, ¡°Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe they are really here, but just invisible. Try asking the vacant seats,¡± she sarcastically replied.


    ¡°Just like Veruca,¡±


    ¡°Yes, just like me.¡±


    There was nothing much to talk about when it was just the two of us. We went to our faculty and prepared for the first period.


    God, let me get through this day as quickly as possible.


    ? ? ?


    The morning classes went as boring as they could be. I loved my students, but I couldn¡¯t escape to the fact that my classes bored me a lot. The experience right now compared before was different. If not only for my students, I wouldn¡¯t have come to school today.


    Four of my co-teachers were eating at one of the round tables set just outside the cafeteria. I wanted to sit and have a conversation with them to at least have some friends with the new faculty I was in, but unluckily, there was no more seat for one person. Bringing the lunch box with rice only, I ordered my viand and pretended that I was finding a table to settle on, where in fact I was just wondering at the artistic beauty of the whole cafeteria.


    If there was one thing that I liked about this school, it was the cafeteria.


    Aside from the food, the design and positioning of things made the student who loved arts inside me shiver with excitement. Throughout my entire life in schools I had been to, ANHS was the oasis of them all, as far as comfort and design were concerned. The round tables¡ªten in total with four bolted chairs each¡ªwere unique in their own way. Four circular patterns of twigs and leaves covered the totality of the tabletop. The bolted chairs were intricate themselves; the edges were crafted masterfully to resemble an oak wood, matched with the right brownish color. Each chair had a stem that looked like a tree stump, which connected the seat¡ªdarkish brown¡ªto the floor that was strongly bolted.


    I was about to go to my desk inside our faculty office after digesting all the beauty that I could stomach when someone called me.


    ¡°Josh, come here! Eat with us,¡± Veruca called out from the staircase. She was going down to the fourth floor where the faculty I once belonged to with her last school year was located. She was the only one who I managed to be friends with because of how easy-going and approachable she was. Just to be clear, I was not the one who introduced myself first because I was too tired to do it.


    She was like the friends of all ages. I wouldn¡¯t doubt that she could befriend a monkey or the dead rat that once gave a strong smell for weeks when I was still on the fourth floor.


    And because of her, I made friends with two more teachers.


    ¡°Where would you eat?¡± I shouted back as I twisted ninety degrees to approach her.


    ¡°In Blanch¡¯s classroom. It¡¯s her class¡¯ Students¡¯ Day, so all of them already went home.¡±


    ¡°Who are eating with us?¡±


    ¡°Arjun, Chevonne¡ª¡±


    ¡°Okay, count me in!¡± I interjected. Veruca got why and just nodded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said.


    Recently, Chevonne was adopted by them because she was the only newly hired teacher in the middle of June last year. In short, she was my replacement. I didn¡¯t care about this; in fact, it was an opportunity for me to establish a good relationship with her as friends first, and I was not even a bit tired of doing it, nor would I ever be.


    Blanch¡¯s classroom was strange and at the same time beautiful world not just for grade seven students, but also for anyone who had a great taste in arts and aesthetics. The quotations on the four walls were catchy, but the one on the front wall might be the perfect truth-sign that would have a great impact on students¡¯ integrity: God can see you. The corners were all decorated with dark-brown tree trunks, and branches stretched up to the upper middle area of each wall, just beneath the quotations. Different learning corners were displayed around the classroom: the reading corner, which was full of different children¡¯s books and some lunch boxes that were forgotten by some students; a humongous memory wall that covered almost the entire back wall of the classroom, consisting of different handouts and announcements from each subject; and the birthday corner, background info, and the cleaning duty assignment that were all posted on the left wall, just next to the windows. The whiteboard was full of last morning¡¯s lesson-writings and the STEPS area was full of names of students who were evidently the rowdy ones inside the classroom. A large Samsung TV monitor had been mounted up the middle portion of the board. All the chairs were piled up already. The remaining unadorned walls were patched with different sizes of cartolina-made autumn leaves.


    Blanch and Arjun were seated at the teacher¡¯s table, just next to the door, munching some of their food already.


    ¡°Hoy, Josh! It¡¯s been centuries since you visited us!¡± Blanch shouted as soon as I stepped a foot inside the classroom. She was also a four-footer herself, just like Veruca, but a few inches taller and she was not feisty at all; on the contrary, her whole being was cute. Her sparkling, black, large eyes were the black holes that could pull your heart in, complemented with a cute, little nose and a glossy pair of pouty lips. Her short, black hair was tightly kept in a bun. I once liked this girl, but it never lasted as much as I wanted to.


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s up? Seemed like you got really hungry in the middle of waiting for us,¡± I retorted, grabbing a student¡¯s chair to sit beside them. Veruca followed suit.


    ¡°We are all good here. Let me guess, you didn¡¯t do anything during Christmas break, did you?¡±


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t just assume anything just because I hardly do things. As if I¡¯d waste my precious break not doing something productive.¡±


    ¡°Productive? Wow, that¡¯s a big word there. Never thought of you being too confident in saying such a word,¡± Arjun blurted out while gnawing his bola-bola. There were only four males among the teachers in this school: teacher Samuel, teacher Norkie, Arjun, and I. I had never been in close relationship with the first two teachers because of having a thirty-year age gap, which could tell a lot about the field of interest in topics that we could talk about. Arjun and I were both of the same age and he was the only man I could talk about boy stuff in this school. Well, he was not a hundred percent man. He was bisexual, and he had a joyous and fabulous personality.


    I grabbed his left ear and playfully smacked his big head. He had a bushy hair that served as his ultimate defense against any objects or hostility from above, just kidding. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, huh, Arj? How ¡®bout you? As far as I know, you dated different men on Tinder and Tantan, all at once!¡±


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s wrong with that? They all asked me to be their boyfriend. How cold-hearted am I not to give them any chance? They might have been rejected before, you know. At least, I¡¯m assuring them that there¡¯s still someone who cares for them.¡±


    ¡°The ends don¡¯t justify the means. Nice try.¡±


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t be too hard on Arj. Are you perfect, sis?¡± Veruca jumped in, defending Arjun.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. At least, he is doing something productive. I¡¯m not talking about his boys but with his paperwork, unlike one person here who only creates his lesson plans after teaching,¡± Blanch added, trying to hit some of my nerves.


    ¡°Are you all even thinking straight here? No pun intended, Arj. I mean, how can you even think of dating people all at once? That¡¯s an emotional crime!¡± I fired back.


    ¡°Really? So, you¡¯re basically telling us that Muslims are emotional criminals, huh?¡± Veruca was quick on the uptake.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Blanch added, not contributing to anything.


    ¡°Guys, listen here. Take a page out of my book. If I were to date someone, I¡¯d make sure to zero in to that lucky girl¡ª¡± here, a snort escaped Arjun¡¯s throat. ¡°¡ªwhat¡¯s funny?¡± I added.


    ¡°I just pity that lucky girl. But who knows, it might be you, Blanch.¡±


    A disgusted reaction showed on Blanch¡¯s oval face. ¡°As if. Even if Josh were the only living man here on Earth, I¡¯d surely not date him. I¡¯d die first.¡±


    ¡°Wow. Just wow. Did you even ask my opinion about it? Do you think I like you in the slightest? Not in my loneliest moment have I ever looked at you as a woman, shorty,¡± I lied, making sure to follow up an insulting smirk to add some salt to the wound. My pride had taken some critical damage and I¡¯d not let it go more than that. ¡°Truth be told, I don¡¯t like any girls in this school. It¡¯s like I¡¯m surrounded by some girls out of The Walking Dead!¡±


    All of them stared at me in disgust¡ªnot even hurt. It was like they were telling me that I could surely do much better than that.


    ¡°You can¡¯t fool anyone here. As if you don¡¯t have a crush on¡ª¡± here, Chevonne rushed in with a high-pitched ¡°Am I late?¡± not directed to anyone, bringing her own lunch and a pink hydro flask. She grabbed a chair and sat beside Blanch at which she was also, at the same time, sitting opposite me. She smiled at everyone, not exactly sure if I was included for I smacked Arjun¡¯s mouth shut with my hands just right before she came in and pretended to scrutinize the food on the table as if they were at fault for the irregularity of my heartbeat.


    Standing five-feet tall, this cutesy, chubby-ish of a woman had a mysterious pulling energy about her. She had a heart-shaped face with a softly shaped jaw, a well-formed nose, small ears, and generic but beautifully molded lips. Her black eyes were as large as how kittens¡¯ eyes would be when staring at something or someone, paired with on-fleek, black eyebrows. She was wearing the Monday uniform just as with everyone else¡¯s, consisting of white long-sleeves with a black blazer, gray pants, and a pair of black shoes.


    Take note, this was my pity attempt in describing her indescribable pulchritude.


    ¡°Wow, you¡¯re really glowing today, Chev,¡± Veruca complimented out of nowhere, taking a side glance at me. The tease got me mad and I gestured for her to stop.


    ¡°Really? Thank you, cher! You look great, too. Here, have some of my Afritada.¡±


    Veruca joyfully snatched a large chunk of meat from Chevonne¡¯s lunchbox, not even caring if she would get mad at her. Thankfully, the food silenced her.


    The whole gang talked and laughed their heads off about anything, sometimes, maybe, about me, which might be just my imagination, until all the food was gone. I was not paying any attention anymore. I didn¡¯t know why I was like this, but when I was around her, I was rendered speechless.


    Rather, stunned.


    Wait. The word was stupefied.


    Time surely could fly fast when you were in your blissful moments. Blissful as it might sound for me, it was just a regular day for her. It was okay, though. I¡¯d make sure that she would notice me one of these days.


    We cleaned our mess and said our short goodbyes for the day. They all went back to their offices and I went up to mine on the fifth floor. All the teachers were already busy with their afternoon classes, making worksheets and PowerPoint presentations.


    So much for the friendship that I wanted to establish with her.

 Chapter 4 – The Troublemaker

    ¡°Okay, class, you¡¯re dismissed.¡±


    I went straight to the faculty office to drop off my instructional materials and joined my gang at the cafeteria. Around the table were Ritchelle, Vhina, and Alyssa. Every lunchtime, Ritchelle would get our reserved food ahead of time because she was the first to dismiss her class. She had her classes only in the morning.


    A month had already passed since then.


    ¡°Hey, why is the you so late to sits here by the us?¡± Ritchelle asked just seconds before I settled on my seat.


    ¡°Me is the stressed by the students, but I scolded them, which make me the stresser,¡± I replied, following with the flow of the joke.


    ¡°Wow, I¡¯m impressed that both of you can understand that kind of English,¡± Alyssa commented as she professionally sliced off the egg white of her sunny-side-up, to be given to Veruca later who notably liked it. Our conversation low-key annoyed her because she was an English teacher.


    ¡°Join we. We is the teaches you how to says we is the language,¡± Ritchelle offered.


    ¡°Also, you is the one who tolds us that there¡¯s no wrong English because of world Englishes, remembers?¡± I added. ¡°Even ¡®Vi¡¯ cans the surely is recall.¡±


    ¡°You know what? Your type of English is the only one that is not acceptable. And please, stop that. It¡¯s making me cringe.¡±


    ¡°Guys, listen first. I have something to tell you,¡± Vhina said. ¡°And, Elly, as I¡¯ve told you, my name has an ¡®h¡¯, so it¡¯s vuh-hiiii. Pronounce it correctly because it makes a lot of difference!¡±


    ¡°As if it does.¡±


    Vhina ignored me and just told us her story about her hard-headed student who kept on shaming her indirectly through side comments and whispers to his seatmates. She didn¡¯t care about this because, for her, it was only a ¡°small thing¡±. But when small things were amassed, then surely it would turn to something alarming, and would eventually affect someone¡¯s emotional state. She added that time came she had had a mental breakdown and just hid it from us; well, not from me. Her pride just could not stand it when others pitied her.


    We talked about lots of things afterward and kept on laughing here and there. Sometimes getting angry about how inconsiderate and insensitive our students were with their teachers. Sometimes about our funny experiences.


    Josh was at the adjacent table all alone. He was sitting in an unlikely manner and was eating his food lazily with his earphones on. He dozed off for a moment, and I caught him in the act. His hair was still as unkempt as usual, and he was still wearing an unironed uniform. What I couldn¡¯t take off my mind was the way he was purposefully playing with his thick lips by flicking them with his fingers, looking like an idiotic, lazy bum. What was he even doing?


    I remembered something.


    ¡°Hey, I almost forgot. You all know Finlay, right?¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Yes, why? Did he do something big again?¡± Ritchelle murmured, emphasizing the word big by intentionally pouting her lips in pronouncing the word.


    ¡°Not just big, but something really interesting. During my discussion, he kept on insisting that lightning was the sound, while thunder was the flash. I kept on telling him he had gotten them interchanged. However, he didn¡¯t believe me, and he stood and went in front of the class to explain his point. You know how good he is in arguing, right? But what to argue about lightning and thunder? I mean, it¡¯s a fact!


    ¡°I just let him be, though. He kept on explaining until he got tired and eventually went back to his seat. I was about to laugh at that time, but his arrogance is greater than my being about to laugh, so I scolded him and called her mom to come to school to discuss his behavior. And seems like he¡¯s still not convinced about thunder and lightning, which is kind of hard for me to keep a straight face whenever he¡¯s around,¡± I stifled a laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re really brave, huh? Calling a parent for a meeting? That¡¯s the greatest nemesis of all teachers here, and you of all teachers should know,¡± Alyssa negatively remarked, recounting my experience about a parent who complained about my teaching style, and the way I handled my students during my first year of teaching. That was the first time that someone outside my family made me cry.


    ¡°You know what? I think it¡¯s Josh¡¯s fault. He is the adviser, yet he couldn¡¯t discipline his student properly. Hey, Josh! Are you listening?¡± Vhina cried at the other table.


    ¡°Whut?¡± Josh lazily replied, pulling his earphones out. I noticed that he seemed lacking some energy.


    ¡°Whut your face. Can you come here for a while?¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. Wait a minute.¡± He dropped his emptied plate into the dish bin and went to our table. ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about Finlay. Can you tell him off next time? He did something again. It happens with other teachers as well, for your information.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry about that. I¡¯ll make sure to tell him about it.¡±


    ¡°You better do because you¡¯re the adviser. And don¡¯t just tell. Make sure he¡¯ll remember and learn from it.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m really sorry about it.¡±


    ¡°Also,¡± I inserted in a high pitch, adding some awkwardness in the atmosphere. ¡°We can see that you¡¯re eating alone there. You might still be adjusting to your new environment coming from the fourth-floor peeps, which we can totally understand. However, we would want to tell you that you can talk with us if you¡¯re having some problems or questions regarding anything on this floor. We might still be novices, but we know how this floor works already.¡± I bent down a little and whispered, ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t pass your lesson plan on time as long as you¡¯d finish it before the school year ends.¡±


    The last statement brought a smile to his face, which we found new. We were taken aback by the chuckle that followed.


    ¡°Yes, yes. Thank you very much. I actually want to start a conversation with you all to introduce myself properly. I might be of a different gender, but I assure you I can have a decent talk with women,¡± he said after he let out a not-so-obvious-but-apparent-enough relieved sigh while wiping his teary eyes.


    I looked around and tried reading my friends¡¯ expressions.


    Well, we might have a problem talking with you in particular, Vhina might have thought.


    Wow, he sure knows how to talk casually, Ritchelle might also have thought based on how she nodded.


    Of a different gender? What a choice of words, Alyssa would surely say.


    Thank God. I thought he was a scary one, I muttered under my breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you say something?¡± Josh asked me.


    ¡°No, I¡ªwe just want to welcome you here!¡± I stood, and with a vigorous motion, opened my arms wide enough to hit Alyssa and Vhina both at my sides. There was another awkward pause before a teacher approached us, carrying a gray and black Asus laptop. We all greeted ¡°good afternoon¡± to the newcomer and offered her a seat that was nowhere around.


    ¡°Teacher Jelly, I just want to remind you that you¡¯re going to have a meeting with Mrs. Garcia at three. She already confirmed. You can dismiss your students earlier since they wouldn¡¯t have their Digital class in the last period,¡± teacher Mary said in an articulate manner. She was the instructional supervisor of the school and the authority radiated from how she talked alone.


    Something that was recognizably weaker than how I talked earlier escaped from my throat, ¡°Yes, cher, I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    ¡°Very good. And, teachers, it¡¯s five to one. Better prepare for your afternoon classes now.¡± She winked and smiled at us naturally which was very unlikely of her strict nature. With her age, she sure looked young. She knew how to handle herself. Her waist-length, newly rebonded hair swayed along with her gait as she walked toward the elevator. She was wearing a pair of two-inch heels with her Monday uniform, which conveyed a strong message that she was way above the normal teachers.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lunch had ended, and we all went back to our respective classrooms. Before turning to go to mine, I saw Josh sighed lazily.


    ? ? ?


    I was already in the guidance office on the third floor, waiting for Finlay¡¯s mother, while fidgeting over the G-tech pen that Molly gifted me last Christmas break. At first, I jokingly complained about how common and cheap the gift was, but deep inside, I liked it. I was thankful that she came back after one week and acted as if nothing happened, which I found remarkable and convenient at the same time. The pen was almost running out of ink, which made me think that I was waiting for almost thirty minutes already¡ªmy time was also running out. The parent-teacher meetings in Arullina were only limited to thirty minutes to minimize the consumption of teaching time; however, it was already dismissal and I could surely spare some more minutes with the parent who, when the long hand of the wall clock ticked ten, barged in the office, barely catching her breath.


    ¡°I apologize for being late, teacher. The traffic is really long,¡± she said after I offered her a glass of water.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, madam. Please sit here and make yourself comfortable,¡± I replied, accompanied by a smile out of courtesy. Mrs. Garcia settled herself comfortably on a monobloc chair. Her assorted, colorful bangles made me think that she might be a collector of some sort. The pearl earrings that she was wearing were something that I found unnecessary; rather, unmatched with her pointy, out-of-style, and boyish haircut. She wore thick make-up as if going straight to a club after the meeting. If not for her luxurious clothing: sparkly purple dress, branded beige high-heels, and aquamarine-ish Lacoste handbag, I¡¯d¡ªwithout a doubt¡ªassume her for a bad-ass-mama partygoer.


    ¡°Okay, so without further delay, let me get straight to the point. You called me here regarding an important matter about my child, and I expect you to fill me in head-on. Please, don¡¯t beat around the bush.¡± The fake smile she gave me vanished like a popped bubble after she collected herself.


    The sudden change of composure and, to say at most, manner of tone, caught me off-guard. ¡°Okay, madam. It all happened during my class in Science this morning. You might have an idea already that he sometimes purposefully interrupts discussions and exerts to explain himself about his answers, which can drag the lessons more than necessary.


    ¡°So, we were talking about lightning and thunder when he incorrectly interchanged the two terms for their definition and tried to defend his answer. The thing is, the way he approached me was very rude, and all his classmates found it the same way I did. I just want you to be informed about this because it would greatly affect his performance per se, especially his good moral character, and hopefully, you will help me by also reminding him at home of what he has done and on how he should correct himself. It would be best to guide him, not forcing him to become better as it might just backfire.¡±


    ¡°Okay, got it, teacher. But did you explain it properly to him? My son might just be confused about it and he might just need you to explain the facts properly to him.¡±


    ¡°I explained everything to him, madam. However, it seems like his pride hinders him from accepting his mistakes, and he doesn¡¯t want to look stupid in front of everyone, especially after the confidence he displayed.¡±


    ¡°Wait. Are you telling me that my son is stupid?¡±


    ¡°No, madam. What I¡¯m saying is, he doesn¡¯t want to look stupid to his classmates.¡±


    ¡°Well, my son is not like that. He does not care about anyone¡¯s opinion or what they think of him. You must have been mistaken about something here, teacher.¡±


    ¡°Madam, you might not know this yet, but seems like Finlay likes someone from his classmates. We have an idea as to who she is, but it does not matter. Anyway, as wha¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, teacher. Are you telling me that he has a crush on someone?¡± Mrs. Garcia asked. This brought a bubbly voice from her throat.


    ¡°Well, seems like it. But again, as what I am telling you, madam, it won¡¯t matter any¡ª¡±


    ¡°Teacher! What are you talking about? Of course, it matters a lot! That is why he was being proud and persistent about himself because it¡¯s not like he does not want to look stupid in front of the class, it¡¯s more likely that he does not want to look stupid in front of that girl!¡± Mrs. Garcia stood and somehow acted lively and all-knowing about her child¡¯s behavior. She was the mother, after all, so she should know better.


    I had never seen it like that¡ªnot in a way.


    Mrs. Garcia settled back down and for some seconds pondered over something. I was tongue-tied and just waited for her to speak first. She smiled and extended her hand, ¡°I think I know how to help you with this, teacher. Thank you for being good to my son.¡±


    I shook her hand, and we parted. Upon going back to the faculty office, I wondered about Mrs. Garcia¡¯s queer actions. Did it settle the matter about Finlay? Did it end in a friendly note? Was she mad at me?


    Inside the office, teacher Mary was sitting on my chair. She had been waiting for me.


    ¡°How was it?¡± she asked first.


    ¡°It was good, cher,¡± I lied.


    ¡°Really? Then, that¡¯s good news. We need her to be on our side because our ride for the retreat will be sponsored by her. I was wishing that the meeting would come off positively because if it had not, then we¡¯d have to deal with another problem.¡±


    This made my body rigid. Had I only known about this then I¡¯d surely have made the meeting much more pleasant. If only not because of that Finlay.


    I heard that teacher Mary had once become an investigator before becoming a teacher¡ªwell, I was not certain of it¡ªand by experience itself, she would surely know something much more than what the surface would tell of a person. She must have taken a hint already by the way I stood so stiff. She finally asked, ¡°It didn¡¯t go well, did it?¡±


    It took another moment for me to respond. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure, cher. But I told her what happened, and her child was really at fault. Everybody knows Finlay, and I surely know that his mother knows him, too. Anyway, she kept asking me about her son crushing on someone and how it matters a lot regarding the child¡¯s misbehavior. She was even ecstatic about it. Then she went away in a hurry. It was weird.¡±


    Teacher Mary might have seen how concerned I was. She only sighed, and added in an indifferent tone, ¡°I will arrange a meeting with her again, tomorrow afternoon. I should have known better. I¡¯ll talk to her myself just to make sure that she understands the situation without jeopardizing the sponsorship she offered. I might call you to add some feedback, together with his adviser. Kindly inform him for me.¡±


    ? ? ?


    Tomorrow came fast and I informed Josh about the meeting first thing in the morning.


    ¡°I apologize for not taking Finlay¡¯s behavior seriously. I should be the one talking with his parents,¡± he apologized after I told him how the meeting turned out.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Besides, we can¡¯t change anything about it anymore. I just hope we¡¯ll be able to make Finlay aware of his misdoings and change on his own accord. Come right on time this afternoon, alright?¡± I replied with a side of a smile. He smiled back and went to the cafeteria to eat with Veruca, Arjun, and Blanch who were all waiting at a table for him.


    Afternoon came and teacher Mary was already inside the guidance office, sitting formally, wearing the Tuesday uniform, which comprised of a black blazer with a fuchsia blouse and a pair of khaki pants. Josh and I went inside and offered our greetings. The moment we settled down, Mrs. Garcia proceeded. She was calm in her bearing and proper in her attire. She wore a plain, white, knee-length, cocktail dress as if straight out of a wedding, but not a piece of jewelry in possession.


    I noticed that there was something strange in the way Mrs. Garcia was staring at teacher Mary. It was like she was scrutinizing her.


    ¡°I made sure not to be late this time,¡± Mrs. Garcia said, who winked at me and had herself seated on one of the monoblocs. Her seemingly bouncy and positive behavior today made me much less nervous.


    ¡°I hope we are not getting in the way with all of your businesses around the city, Mrs. Garcia. It¡¯s just that talking about your child¡¯s performance and behavior inside the classroom is a must. What he has been  displaying recently is of something that a delinquent would do,¡± teacher Mary started without doubting her words. She might have known the parent well that she wanted everything to be straight to the point.


    ¡°Of course, I know. I¡¯m sorry, too, for my son¡¯s mistakes. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard from teacher Jelly about our meeting yesterday.¡± Mrs. Garcia turned to me, and then added, ¡°I apologize for what I¡¯ve shown you of myself. I hope you will be able to forgive me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about it, madam. I¡¯ve expected it to come from a loving and caring mother. You were worried about your son, so I understand. I also apologize if I said something that had made you angry or disappointed.¡± Despite being less anxious, I still couldn¡¯t help myself being intimidated.


    Teacher Mary cleared her throat, and in a stern and serious tone continued, ¡°Anyway, we will not keep this meeting for long, madam, for I know that you still have some important matters to attend to. We just want to inform you that if Finlay commits another grave misconduct in the classroom, we will not have a second thought of giving him the last written warning, and he will need to attend the community immersion every Saturday as well.¡±


    ¡°Of course, yes. I¡¯ll make sure to give him some scoldings at home. Thank you for always looking after my child, teachers.¡± Mrs. Garcia stood and extended her left arm. She was clearly in a hurry, just like yesterday. What kind of businesses did she have?


    We shook her hand and gave our farewells. Mrs. Garcia was almost through the threshold when she remembered something. ¡°Ah, teacher Mary, the barge will be ready late in the evening this coming Friday. Maybe nine or ten. I¡¯ll email the specifics once I¡¯m home. The captain said that they might be carrying some passengers with them if it¡¯s okay with the school.¡±


    This brought a smile to teacher Mary¡¯s face. I loosened my shoulders and sighed slowly. ¡°Thank God¡± was all I could think of.


    ¡°No worries about it, madam. Thank you very much for being so generous as to offer your services for the betterment of the student council.¡±


    ¡°Just keep your word about bringing Finlay with you to observe what the student council does. I¡¯ll make sure to encourage him to join next school year. This might be a chance for him to change, too.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. As promised. And you are right. This might be a splendid opportunity for Finlay to think things through,¡± teacher Mary replied. I might have mistaken the smile Mrs. Garcia gave teacher Mary in reply. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.


    ¡°Um, madam¡ª¡±


    We turned to Josh¡¯s place. I almost forgot that he was with us.


    ¡°Yes?¡± A smile, but not the smile she had shown teacher Mary earlier, was shot at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m the adviser of Finlay. I just want to say that he is not at all times misbehaving inside the classroom. It might just be me, but he¡¯s well-behaved in my class and some of his actions are tolerable, if not acceptable.¡±


    Mrs. Garcia¡¯s smile curved down and her eyebrows arched. Even teacher Mary and I gave him the face. ¡°Well, thank you for that, Mr. adviser. I¡¯ll surely tell Finlay that you complimented him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please do,¡± Josh replied.


    Mrs. Garcia was gone in a second.


    I smiled and patted him at the back. ¡°That¡¯s it. Put some more energy to it next time.¡±

 Chapter 5 – The Short Meeting

    Fridays. Blessed Fridays.


    Why couldn¡¯t all days in a week feel like Fridays?


    The day of the retreat finally came. I¡¯d been waiting for this, longing for a break, a chance to return to Bantayan and finally explore the beaches I¡¯d dreamed of visiting for so long. Plans had fallen through before, thanks to tight schedules and unreliable friends. I loved traveling, but the thought of going alone felt¡­ hollow. I needed company, someone to share the experience with, someone to make the moments feel alive.


    The audio-visual room buzzed quietly as teachers gathered for our final pre-departure briefing. The school bus was scheduled to pick us up at five, taking us on a four to five-hour journey to Hagnaya Port, where we¡¯d board the barge to Bantayan. Student council officers were already set¡ªbags packed and consent forms signed.


    Yet the weight of responsibility pressed on my shoulders. Monitoring the students¡¯ safety wasn¡¯t something I could take lightly.


    Including Finlay. Especially Finlay.


    The AVR wasn¡¯t spacious. The staff had pushed the equipment against the walls to create an open area in the center for the meeting. Rows of plastic chairs filled the space, some already occupied by teachers waiting in expectant silence. The atmosphere reminded me of my first open forum in high school¡ªserious and tense, like something important was about to unfold.


    I spotted Veruca at the back, waving dramatically, urging me to join her. She always got my back.


    I settled beside her, grateful for the saved seat. "You''re the best," I whispered.


    She grinned. ¡°You can owe me lunch for this.¡±


    Blanch and Arjun were still nowhere to be seen, probably cramming their last-minute packing. Up front, Chevonne sat with Jelly and her usual crowd, chatting in low murmurs.


    The door opened with a soft click, and teacher Mary entered.


    The low conversations ceased at once.


    Dressed in our Friday uniform¡ªan orange polo shirt embroidered with ANHS Teacher across the chest and our names printed on the back¡ªshe was the picture of calm authority. Though I often felt lukewarm about the dress code, the vibrant orange seemed fitting today. It made us look unified.


    ¡°Alright, everyone, please take your seats,¡± she said, her voice steady but commanding.


    We obeyed, chairs scraping gently against the tiles.


    ¡°To begin, let¡¯s have teacher Selena lead us in the opening prayer.¡±


    We bowed our heads, most of us making the sign of the cross. Teacher Selena¡¯s voice filled the room, soft and measured. Yet, as the prayer unfolded, the atmosphere shifted. The usual routine felt heavier, almost sacred in the quiet. Maybe it was the tension before the trip or maybe just the knowledge that we¡¯d be off school grounds for five days straight.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Thank you, teacher Selena,¡± teacher Mary said as we lifted our heads. ¡°Now, this meeting will focus on the retreat¡¯s final preparations. Manong Trinidad is already outside supervising the loading of the equipment onto the school bus. Teachers who are not attending have been instructed to assist. I trust all student council officers have submitted their consent forms?¡±


    A brief silence. No hands raised.


    ¡°Good. Now, I will call the names of the attending advisers. Please respond with ¡®here¡¯ when called.¡±


    She retrieved her neatly folded planner from the desk and began.


    ¡°12A adviser, Vhina Escorita.¡±


    ¡°Here, cher.¡±


    ¡°12B adviser, Ritchelle Berduda.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°11A adviser, Alyssa Gonzales.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°11B adviser, Selena Guzman. Actually, no need to answer that. How about 11C adviser, Norkie Verde?¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± he replied with a deep voice. How I wished I had a manly voice just like his.


    ¡°10A adviser, Josh Kabungcag.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± I just kept it simple. No need for extravagance.


    ¡°10B adviser, Samuel Cuer.¡±


    No reply.


    ¡°Where is teacher Samuel? Anyone?¡±


    ¡°Cher, I think he¡¯s meeting one of his student¡¯s parents. He told me earlier, during lunch,¡± teacher Norkie replied. They might be friends or whatever.


    ¡°Okay, but I have not received any info from him. Kindly tell him to give me prior notice next time.¡±


    She continued down the list, her voice measured and professional. Some teachers answered crisply. Others, like Jelly, responded with exaggerated formality.


    Then came Arjun.


    ¡°8B adviser, Arjun Lovindina.¡±


    ¡°Here!¡± he squeaked, mimicking a high-pitched voice.


    The chuckles rippled softly, including mine, until teacher Mary¡¯s expression cut them short. ¡°Let¡¯s keep it professional, please.¡±


    The roll call continued smoothly after that. When she reached Chevonne, her voice was a bit softer, though I might have imagined it.


    If only I could say, ¡°You¡¯re also here¡­ in my heart.¡±


    Cringe.


    Once the list was complete, teacher Mary scanned the room, her eyes sharp.


    ¡°Good. No absences. Remember, whether or not you¡¯re handling a student council officer, everyone here is responsible for the students¡¯ safety. This retreat is a privilege, and I expect all of you to uphold the school¡¯s standards. We¡¯ll be sharing the barge with other passengers, so I need all advisers to remind their students to behave accordingly.¡±


    Her gaze narrowed. ¡°Especially Priscilla, teacher Vhina.¡±


    Vhina gave a brisk nod¡ªthe kind you give when you¡¯re trying to appear unfazed but are clearly being singled out.


    Teacher Mary continued, ¡°I won¡¯t keep you long. Prepare your things. Teachers, please¡ª¡±


    And then, the floor trembled.


    At first, it was a gentle shudder. Then, it grew stronger, enough to rattle the chairs and send a few bags toppling.


    It was an earthquake.


    For a heartbeat, everything froze.


    ¡°Stay calm,¡± teacher Mary instructed, her voice firm. ¡°Cover your heads. Don¡¯t move yet. Wait for it to pass.¡±


    The rumbling intensified for a moment but gradually subsided. Silence fell again, heavier than before.


    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s stopped. No need to panic. Teacher Norkie, teacher Josh, guide the students from the next room to the evacuation area¡ª¡±


    Another small tremor.


    ¡°Not yet. Stay where you are. Wait for my signal.¡±


    We waited, tension coiling tighter.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°Go!¡±


    Chairs scraped back as we moved, guiding the students out in a calm but brisk line. It wasn¡¯t our first earthquake. We did enough drills that it felt routine. But routine or not, the weight of responsibility stayed the same.


    It reminded me of the first major earthquake I experienced, back when I was a college freshman.


    The proctor that time was an old man with sunken cheeks who barely greeted us before handing out the test papers. I was distracted, doodling hearts on the back of my notebook, wondering how to catch my crush¡¯s attention. Then, the tremor hit, vertical and violent. The entire building swayed.


    It was all panic. Pure, unpracticed panic.


    Drills meant nothing. We bolted for the exits in chaos.


    Now, though, we knew better.


    When the evacuation was over, a decision was made: The retreat was postponed to the next day.


    The students were dismissed early¡ªincluding Finlay.


    And just like that, the excitement of the retreat was replaced by a strange, lingering emptiness.


    Some fears lost their grip over time. Others just became¡­ annoyances.


    Earthquakes, it seemed, had become the latter.

 Chapter 6 – The Incident

    The dawn was majestic when I arrived at Hagnaya Port. The sky was painted in shades of orange and red, like a furious artist had flung his palette in a burst of creative anger, leaving behind a mess of colors¡ªraw yet stunning. Waves crashed against the shore, their deafening retreat mingling with the soggy groan of truck tires on damp soil. Though the area had been swept, bits of trash still lingered in forgotten corners, a testament to either the cleaners'' low pay or the never-ending tide of litter.


    A mossy, nostalgic scent mixed with the sharp tang of salt filled the air, triggering a rush of memories.


    Ah, those were the days.


    Hagnaya Port was the only gateway to Bantayan Island. The retreat house we were visiting was near Kota Beach. Though the earliest trip was at four-thirty, we had agreed on the nine-thirty trip with a call time at five-thirty. Yet I arrived an hour earlier. Too early, in fact.


    It nagged me¡ªI couldn¡¯t understand why we hadn¡¯t just taken the six-thirty trip since everyone was supposed to meet at five. But it was no wonder I was ahead of schedule. I hadn¡¯t traveled from the city like the others. Molly and I had gone back to our hometown the night before, making Hagnaya only an hour away from Tabogon.


    I scanned the area. Not a single co-teacher in sight.


    Only a few vendors milled around, their sleepy faces barely hidden under sunhats, and some manongs stood by the restroom, waiting for loose change. Then came a twist in my stomach.


    I needed the toilet. Badly.


    Afterward, I mumbled under my breath about the ten-peso fee. Sure, maintenance was important, but ten pesos felt like robbery.


    My stomach protested again.


    Three restroom trips later, I finally headed toward the ticket booth, clutching my abdomen.


    The waiting area was a sorry sight¡ªrickety benches and plastic chairs, some with missing legs replaced by splintered four-by-fours. I sank onto a chair and checked my phone.


    Forty-four missed calls.


    Thirteen text messages.


    Crap.


    My phone had been on silent, and, as usual, my default messaging app was acting up. It wouldn¡¯t notify me of incoming texts unless I opened the app manually.


    Sweat pricked my temples. I was doomed.


    Fumbling, I called my best friend, Vhina.


    The line clicked.


    ¡°Hey, are you still asleep¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where are you!¡± she hissed, clearly trying to stay quiet. ¡°Teacher Mary is fuming. We¡¯ve called you a million times!¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯m already here at Hagnaya.¡±


    ¡°What? You weren¡¯t listening during the meeting, were you? The call time was five-thirty at school! School, Elly! Not Hagnaya!¡±


    I blinked. The empty port and the swaying barge confirmed it.


    ¡°Uh... Can you cover for me? Please? Best friend privileges?¡± I pleaded in my most chipmunk voice.


    ¡°Best friend your face. Check your messages for once. You¡¯re practically living like a cavewoman!¡±


    ¡°You know I uninstalled Messenger.¡±


    ¡°Right, right. Because of that ¡®no distractions¡¯ phase. Ugh, fine. I¡¯ll cover you. But you owe me big time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you! I¡¯ll buy you food once we reach Bantayan. Promise!¡±


    ¡°You better! And Elly? Seriously, Bernard¡¯s still waiting for you to notice him. Quit being so picky!¡±


    ¡°Vhi, we¡¯re not talking about this again¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fine! Gotta go. Teacher Mary¡¯s coming!¡±


    The line cut off.


    I exhaled and smacked my cheeks with both hands. It helped me focus on my predicament.


    With arms crossed, I watched the barge swaying gently on the waves. Its massive gray structure was just as my father once described¡ªthe Kulbahinam Barge, a large vessel with twelve passenger cabins, forty double decks, and too many weathered plastic chairs bolted to the deck. It belonged to the Garcia family, a shipping empire. Father used to work for them when he was alive.


    The sun climbed higher, gilding the horizon in a pale golden hue, but the warmth only made me yawn. I popped in my AirPods, played some Korean ballads, and drifted off to sleep.


    *****


    A rough nudge startled me awake.


    ¡°Elly? Elly!¡±


    My eyes snapped open. Vhina¡¯s face loomed over mine, her black hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Behind her, the sun was glaring full force, making me squint.


    ¡°Finally! We¡¯ve been calling you for ages!¡± she scolded, hands on her hips.


    I blinked the sleep away and fumbled for my phone.


    Dead. Fantastic.


    ¡°Wait, how¡¯d you get here so fast?¡± I asked, scrambling upright.


    ¡°Fast? Check what time it is. We¡¯ve been waiting for you on the other side of the port. You really slept through everything?¡±


    ¡°Uh... yeah. Must¡¯ve dozed off.¡±


    Vhina exhaled through her nose, the way she always did when resisting the urge to strangle me. ¡°Teacher Mary¡¯s furious. She almost left without you.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess. You saved my butt.¡±


    ¡°Barely. You owe me food and¡ªugh¡ªmaybe my dignity, too.¡±


    Behind her, the rest of our co-teachers gathered near the barge, some munching on packed breakfasts, others snapping selfies. Teacher Mary stood farther back, clutching her clipboard like a weapon.


    Vhina tugged my arm. ¡°Come on before she notices you.¡±


    The massive ship was still docked peacefully, but a line of ant-like figures had already begun boarding. The Kulbahinam barge¡¯s horn blasted, warning the nine-thirty passengers who hadn¡¯t boarded yet. I scrambled, searching for my belongings. They were gone.


    ¡°Alyssa and Ritchelle already grabbed your stuff. Let¡¯s go, or you¡¯ll be stuck on the eleven-thirty trip alone,¡± Vhina whispered in a half-threatening, half-awkward voice. I didn¡¯t buy it but hurried anyway.


    We made it aboard just in time, but we were too late for the first assembly.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Your things are on your bed already. The four of us are sharing a room, by the way,¡± Alyssa informed me, anticipating my question.


    I scanned the passengers scattered across the barge. Most looked like everyday travelers: a middle-aged man with a stethoscope¡ªprobably a doctor; a buff student in a varsity jacket; and a frail, young-looking old woman wearing a Pikachu shirt and a tattered saya¡ªlikely a vendor. Among them were our fellow teachers from Arullina.


    Teacher Mary was wrapping up instructions for the student council, reminding them about the dos and don¡¯ts at the retreat house. I noticed Vhina handing Priscilla, the energetic student council president, a script for her speech. Priscilla couldn¡¯t sit still, so Vhina had already planned tasks for her once we arrived.


    Teacher Samuel, the council adviser, was pacing near the cabins, searching for Joseph, the quiet and socially withdrawn vice president. Teacher Samuel had practically forced him into the position, hoping it would improve his nearly failing grades. Joseph didn¡¯t mind; his duties were minimal, especially since Priscilla never gave him the chance to step up.


    I was searching for Josh when I caught sight of Finlay darting around the deck. The railings were dangerously low, inviting an accident waiting to happen for someone like him. I spotted Josh talking with teacher Mary at the rear deck and approached.


    ¡°Hi! Good morning, teacher Mary!¡± I greeted carefully, still wary of her cool demeanor after our last misunderstanding.


    ¡°Good morning to you, too,¡± she replied, professional as ever.


    ¡°Can I borrow Josh for a sec, cher?¡± I asked, hoping for no further friction.


    ¡°Of course. I was just discussing Finlay with him. A passenger mentioned he knocked a vase off a crew cabin earlier.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s actually what I needed to talk to him about. He was running too close to the railings just now.¡±


    ¡°I already gave him a workbook to keep him occupied in my cabin,¡± Josh added, visibly drained. ¡°He¡¯ll face more reprimands later from both teacher Mary and me. Anyway, I need to find Rex¡ªI have something to give him. Excuse me.¡±


    I sensed his stress and figured he was eager to avoid more conversations about Finlay¡¯s behavior. Still, I followed as he headed toward the starboard.


    Rex stood leaning on the rail, gazing out at the endless blue, the wind tugging his hair. Josh¡¯s nephew, the council treasurer, was often teased for being spacey and distracted, but most people didn¡¯t know the truth¡ªthere was a storm inside him. Rumors had reached us through the guidance counselor: Rex had once tried to take his own life. His family¡¯s constant comparisons had left him broken, his mother favoring his siblings while belittling his supposed lack of talent.


    He was meant to become an engineer but defied expectations, choosing to follow his uncle¡¯s path as a teacher. Unfortunately, he¡¯d also picked up Josh¡¯s bad habits before.


    I watched from behind a metal fixture as Rex pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket. Before he could light it, Josh snatched the pack from his hands and flung it into the sea.


    ¡°Still doing this?¡± Josh snapped. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you to stop?¡±


    ¡°It helps me relax,¡± Rex shot back.


    ¡°Teacher Mary¡¯s looking for you. She needs the budget report for the retreat, including food and drinks.¡±


    Rex shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s in my bag. Needs a final check. I¡¯ll give it to her later.¡±


    Josh nodded, fishing a small pouch from his pocket. ¡°Here. Your pocket money. Don¡¯t waste it on cigars, got it?¡±


    Rex hesitated. ¡°Did my parents send you with this?¡±


    ¡°Yes. No. Look, just keep it. You¡¯ll have your own money soon enough once you graduate.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stubborn. Just take it, okay? Come on, I¡¯ll find you something productive to do.¡±


    Rex lingered at the rail, his face clouded with something deeper. Josh caught the look and softened.


    ¡°Hey... What¡¯s on your mind, kid?¡±


    ¡°Stuff.¡±


    ¡°What kind of stuff?¡±


    ¡°Nothing you¡¯d get. Just leave me alone.¡±


    Josh sighed and joined him, leaning against the rail. ¡°You know I¡¯m just trying to help, right?¡±


    Rex turned halfway, scanning his uncle with narrowed eyes. ¡°You? Help me? You barely move when you visit home. All you do is sit around playing the games I¡¯ve saved for later. Then you finish them before I even get a chance. And you keep ordering me around¡ª¡®buy this, buy that.¡¯ You¡¯re lazy.¡±


    Josh blinked. ¡°Whoa, now¡ªhey! I¡¯m not lazy! I have responsibilities you can¡¯t even imagine yet. Watch your mouth, or I¡¯ll call you out in front of the council.¡±


    Rex smirked. ¡°Sure, go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is that a challenge? You feeling bold now that you¡¯re the treasurer, huh?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s there to be bold about? I didn¡¯t even want this position. They could¡¯ve picked anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Kid, you¡¯re wasting your potential. Handling money isn¡¯t easy. You¡¯ve got a skill for it, and it matters. Be proud of that.¡±


    Rex stared back out at the sea silently.


    Josh gave him a smug grin. ¡°See? You know I¡¯m right.¡±


    Eventually, the two headed toward Josh¡¯s cabin. I let out a sigh and returned to mine.


    It had been nearly forty-five minutes since we departed from Hagnaya port, and we were almost halfway to Bantayan Island.


    "A little more time, girl. Just a little more," I murmured under my breath, excitement stirring inside me.


    But the weather shifted. It became oddly heavy as if determined to dampen my mood.


    "Oh, not today," I sighed, brushing it off.


    I strolled back toward the cabin, trailing my fingers along the railings when my stomach suddenly dropped. The deck lurched beneath me as the vessel rocked listlessly, a sickening roll that made my balance falter.


    The waves had turned.


    What began as a gentle sway escalated into something far more threatening. The barge rocked harder¡ªport to starboard¡ªwhile passengers exchanged uneasy glances. Gloomy clouds thickened above, and then the rain came, heavy and unforgiving, drenching the deck in moments. Cold wind, a furious gust that stung my skin, howled through the open spaces.


    Finlay had just endured a stern scolding from teacher Mary when I saw him slip back onto the rain-soaked deck¡ªagain. He was fixated on a seagull perched near the rear railings, its wings half-spread as if mocking him.


    I pushed through the thickening crowd, heart pounding.


    But I was too late.


    He sprinted toward the bird, his small frame reckless against the wind.


    Chevonne, standing nearby, was wiping her eyes after a teary phone call. She dropped her phone with a gasp, spotting Finlay just as he lunged. She tried to grab him, but his momentum was unstoppable¡ªlike a runaway bullet train.


    The seagull flapped its wings wide and soared off just as Finlay reached for it.


    He lost his balance.


    His body pitched forward, arms flailing as his feet slipped from the rain-slicked deck.


    Chevonne lunged, managing to catch a handful of his uniform.


    But he was heavier than she could hold.


    "Help!" Finlay screamed, his upper body dangling over the edge. His weight pulled Chevonne forward, the strain showing in her trembling grip. The barge rocked harder, rain blinding them both as waves crashed against the hull.


    They slipped.


    I screamed.


    Josh, who had just finished speaking with Rex, caught the sound. I barely managed to point toward the railings before he was already moving.


    His face hardened.


    He knew exactly what he had to do.


    Josh dove overboard.


    The rain blurred everything as I blinked rapidly, trying to track him. Then, for just a moment, the air around the ship seemed to shift; there was a strange green mist curling along the deck.


    Then, I saw everything from above. I was dumbfounded as I found myself flying some meters above.


    I saw Josh hit the water face-first. The impact stunned him, but he surfaced, gasping and blinking against the stinging rain. Murky water surrounded him, visibility next to nothing. He dove under, searching, the storm''s fury pressing in on all sides.


    Then, something fell from the barge.


    It was a heavy object.


    It struck his head.


    *****


    I jolted awake, my heart racing.


    What just happened?


    The sea was trembling.


    The barge¡¯s sirens wailed, the captain¡¯s voice crackling through the overhead speakers.


    "This is Captain Rudwick of the Kulbahinam Barge Group of Companies speaking. We are currently experiencing a seaquake. I repeat, a seaquake!"


    Panic rippled through the passengers.


    Teacher Mary, usually composed, was now shouting over the rising chaos. "Stay calm! Everyone, return to your cabins, beds, or chairs! Please! Stay off the walkways!"


    Luggage toppled. Furniture slid across the tilting floor, some of it shattering.


    The crew scrambled to control the crowd, but the chaos was overwhelming. With around sixty passengers on board, panic spread faster than the crew could contain. Voices clashed¡ªshouts, sobs, the screech of shifting furniture¡ªmelding into a cacophony of fear.


    The barge lurched violently, each tilt more jarring than the last, as if the sea itself were trying to wrench us from its surface. Rain lashed against the metal hull, the wind howling like a living thing.


    Then, without warning, the air changed.


    A strange green smog began to curl across the deck, seeping in from nowhere. It thickened, clinging to the railings, distorting the outlines of people around me. Visibility shrank until I could barely see a meter ahead.


    The green mist¡ªthick, unnatural¡ªwas the same eerie glow I noticed earlier.


    But no one else seemed to react. It was as if I was the only one who could see it. It thickened across the deck, curling around the railings, dimming the light.


    Why was I the only one who could see it?


    The student council huddled together, praying. Rex, however, wasn''t among them. He was tearing through the crowd, searching for Josh.


    Ritchelle and Alyssa were frantically trying to contact anyone who could help when, without warning, the quake and storm ceased. The barge stilled. The eerie green mist thinned, then it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.


    Silence fell¡ªheavy, unnatural.


    A cold knot twisted in my stomach. It felt wrong. It was like the hush before a storm¡¯s return.


    The overhead speakers crackled back to life.


    "Everyone, please, calm down. The weather and seaquake have completely ceased. My crew is assessing the damage, and in just a minute, we¡¯ll be ready to restart the engines. Please, return to your cabins, beds, or chairs and avoid any actions that might cause panic. As much as possible, remain calm and cooperative. Follow the guidelines in dea¡ª"


    The barge jolted violently. There was a sickening lurch.


    This time, it was worse.


    The entire vessel convulsed with such force that we weren¡¯t just thrown off balance¡ªwe were lifted. My stomach flipped as I felt the ground vanish beneath me. People screamed.


    I hit the metal roof hard. Pain exploded through my skull as I collapsed back to the floor.


    The world blurred.


    It was a vertical earthquake, or a seaquake¡ªwhatever it was.

 Chapter 7 – The Island

    My head throbbed with pain.


    The world around me was a blur, and standing felt nearly impossible. A relentless ringing filled my ears as if sound itself had torn through me. I had the sickening sense that blood might be flowing from them. Leaning sideways on my right arm, I reached up with my left to check my head for injuries.


    It hurt.


    As I shifted, discomfort flared in my lower body. Something heavy pinned me down. No¡ªsomeone.


    And it hurt.


    I blinked hard, shaking my head to clear the haze. Gradually, my vision sharpened, and the first thing I noticed was the overwhelming blueness of everything around me.


    The figure sprawled limply across my legs was Finlay. His disheveled black bangs clung to his pale forehead, framing a face too striking for its own good¡ªwide eyelids, a broad nose, well-shaped lips, and a firm jaw. I never felt so annoyed at a handsome face before.


    Then, everything came rushing back.


    The pieces of memory slammed together¡ªsharp, painful, undeniable. Concern twisted into something raw and bitter. I had cared too much for this child. Now, all I felt was anger. He was reckless. Ungrateful. Disrespectful. I wanted to shove him off me, but my fury collapsed as the last fragments of memory clicked into place.


    Chevonne.


    I shoved Finlay aside and scanned the area. There was no sign of her.


    Struggling to my feet, I collapsed to my knees, trembling. The tears came before I could stop them. They were hot and stinging as they fell onto the damp sand.


    I whispered desperate prayers. ¡°Please, let her be safe. Let her be alive. If something terrible has happened, let it be me instead. Let my ability be useful just one more time, even if it¡¯s the last.¡±


    ¡°Josh?¡±


    Her voice pierced through the fog¡ªso soft, so real, it made my heart lurch.


    Chevonne stood there, pale and unsteady, yet alive. She offered her hand, and I took it¡ªgently, almost shyly. A wave of relief washed over me, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to meet her eyes. Instead, I stared at the sand, hoping the tightness in my chest would speak the words I couldn¡¯t find.


    ¡°Why are you crying?¡± she asked.


    It was the first time she¡¯d spoken directly to me since starting at Arullina.


    Crying? Me?


    I touched my face, startled to find my cheeks damp. My skin felt cold under my fingertips.


    Damn it. Why now?


    I forced out a weak defense. ¡°It¡¯s the wind,¡± I muttered, the words fumbling from my lips. ¡°The wind¡¯s strong. Makes your eyes water. That¡¯s not crying. Those are... different things.¡±


    The explanation sounded pathetic even to me. I dropped my hands behind my back as if hiding them would erase the evidence.


    ¡°Is Finlay okay?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡ªFinlay!¡± I turned back to the boy, grateful for the distraction, and nudged his shoulder to wake him. Anything to avoid Chevonne¡¯s gaze.


    Finlay remained unresponsive, and I must have been too rough because Chevonne gently intervened, brushing past me to kneel at his side. With quiet care, she cradled him, holding him as though he were her own child.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she whispered as Finlay stirred, his eyes fluttering open.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± he murmured, voice thin and dazed.


    I gritted my teeth, torn between concern and frustration.


    There was a part of me¡ªan ugly, bitter part¡ªthat wanted to shake him for being so oblivious. If not for him, we would still be safe on the barge. Why had he even been with us? They said he needed a second chance. To prove he could change. Change into what, exactly?


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Chevonne answered gently. ¡°Try to sit up and clear your head. We¡¯ll figure it out soon.¡±


    Her calm reassurance struck something in me. I wanted to be spoken to like that and feel that kind of care. Maybe, just maybe, I¡¯d pretend to be a little more helpless next time.


    But Finlay wouldn¡¯t stop. Again and again, he kept asking, ¡°Where are we?¡± until I finally gave up trying to ignore him and took a long look around.


    What a tiresome child.


    We washed ashore on a white, horseshoe-shaped beach. The sand spread soft and fine beneath us. Gentle waves lapped the shoreline, coaxing us for a swim. Sunlight glinted on the water, sharp and clean like marble. The warmth touched my skin without burning it.


    For a heartbeat, I imagined we were a family on vacation, carefree and whole. But reality lingered¡ªsoaked, ragged clothes clung to us, and bruises marred our skin. Still, the weather felt so perfect I could picture Chevonne and me sharing a quiet picnic, talking about everything and nothing under the sun.


    ¡°Haaay,¡± I sighed, shaking off the thought.


    Behind us, strange trees crowded inland. Their trunks looked like coconut palms, but the leaves were covered in soft, hair-like needles. I approached one and brushed my fingers against a strand. To my disbelief, it felt as smooth as hair.


    Beyond that, nothing on the shore stood out¡ªexcept us. We were the odd ones here.


    We were on an island. Maybe Bantayan. Or one of the neighboring islands.


    Chevonne helped Finlay to his feet.


    ¡°I guess we¡¯re in some sort of island,¡± she said, echoing my own thoughts.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re on some sort of island,¡± I repeated and instantly regretted it. My words sounded stiff as if my tongue worked on its own.


    ¡°What about the others?¡± Finlay asked, his voice already stirring the heat of my earlier frustration.


    ¡°Maybe they washed ashore on the other side of the island,¡± Chevonne guessed, pulling out her phone. She pressed the screen several times before sighing. ¡°No signal.¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± I muttered, holding up my own phone by the ring holder before tucking it back into my pocket. It was useless here.


    ¡°I guess we should start by asking the locals,¡± she suggested.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. That makes the most sense.¡± I turned to Finlay. ¡°Come here. I¡¯ll carry you. You¡¯re still limping.¡±


    The offer surprised me. Maybe it was duty. Maybe I just wanted Chevonne to see I could be reliable.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright, cher. I¡¯m sorry for what I did¡ª¡±


    ¡°Again,¡± I cut in, making sure he heard the correction.


    ¡°Ag¡¯n,¡± he mumbled, head lowered.


    Chevonne gave him a patient smile. ¡°It¡¯s alright. We understand. Let bygones be bygones. But if I were you, I¡¯d be more careful next time.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Finlay¡¯s face lit up, his energy returning as if all his mistakes had vanished. He nodded, beaming, and skipped ahead toward the tree line, humming a strange tune I didn¡¯t recognize.


    I exchanged a glance with Chevonne, who looked just as puzzled.


    The boy kept hopping forward, carefree as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re that kind of teacher, huh?¡± I whispered, my voice uneven. My eyes refused to meet hers. My armpits prickled with sweat.


    Chevonne smiled gently. ¡°I majored in Science, but we still had professional education units on handling students, remember? Though, honestly, I think I got most of it from my parents.¡±


    Her smile stunned me.


    For a moment, everything felt safe.


    I was safe. She was safe.


    I opened my mouth to speak but only managed a weak, ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    We followed Finlay¡¯s tracks toward the trees, the island¡¯s perfect beauty stirring something uneasy inside me. It felt too calm. Too peaceful.


    And that gave me chills.


    *****


    I felt hungry. Thirsty, too.


    We had walked inland for what felt like an hour. Strange trees and plants surrounded us. There were unfamiliar not only to me but to Chevonne as well.


    As we wandered, she shared bits about herself. I learned she had been born into a wealthy family. Her parents were both botanists with various plant businesses, and despite majoring in Science, she knew most of the plants native to Cebu. She described several species¡ªmany I didn''t recognize¡ªbut I kept listening. I couldn¡¯t argue with her opinions about the island; I rarely had a chance to talk with her like this, so I let her speak freely and nodded along, offering small gestures of agreement.


    She mentioned how she dreamed of keeping a garden in her room¡ªroses, butterflies, the works. That detail stuck. She especially loved bonsai trees. I made a quiet promise: Once we got rescued, I¡¯d give her one. Not just the plant, but something with more meaning¡ªa poem by Edith Tiempo.


    The forest thickened as we searched for locals. Towering, ancient trees pressed in around us, their crowns tangled with bursts of sunlight that painted the dense shrubs below in flickering patterns. I checked my phone again¡ªten p.m. The sun still blazed high above, its heat pressing down on us. The time had to be wrong. Water damage, probably.


    I shoved it back into my pocket.


    We trudged through damp, knee-high lemon grass. It brushed against my ankles, leaving a warm, tingling sensation. Stout tree limbs with those strange, hair-like needles we¡¯d seen near the shore dangled from a rocky cliff ahead. Clusters of vibrant, unfamiliar flowers added rare beauty to the damp soil.


    The air smelled thick and sweet¡ªlike honey mixed with crushed green mangoes. The scent only reminded me how empty my stomach felt.


    From somewhere deeper in the woods, a jumble of strange sounds echoed¡ªlow calls, rustling branches. Probably animals. A deeper roar rumbled through the trees, vibrating the air like a warning.


    The tension gnawed at me.


    I couldn¡¯t keep track of time anymore, and our walk no longer felt pleasant. I knew Chevonne and Finlay were on edge, though they stayed quiet. I was the only man here. If something threatened us, I¡¯d have to protect them, but the truth sank deeper with every step. I wasn¡¯t ready for that.


    We picked up the pace until we stumbled into a small meadow.


    The sunlit grass felt warm under us as we collapsed, breathless. Silence stretched for a few precious seconds while we caught our breath.


    This wasn¡¯t the kind of trip I wanted.


    Finlay suddenly stood. ¡°I need to go for a while.¡±


    Chevonne and I exchanged a knowing glance. No need to ask what he meant.


    He disappeared through the shrubs, leaving the two of us alone.


    It took me minutes¡ªtoo many¡ªto realize the chance I had. Alone. With her.


    I forced myself to speak, gathering every bit of courage left in me.


    This time, I wouldn¡¯t mess up. I¡¯d make sure to build the friendship we had always left untouched.


    At first, the words felt stiff, but then the conversation softened. Our words flowed more easily, the forest blurring around us. I grew comfortable, but maybe too comfortable. I lowered my guard, letting something slip I never should have.


    My secret.


    Silence dropped between us, thick and heavy.


    I stared down at the grass, which suddenly looked dull and lifeless.


    She didn¡¯t laugh.


    I had braced for it, even expected it¡ªthat sharp burst of mockery. Maybe a teasing jab, or worse, the kind of laughter that said she didn¡¯t believe a word I¡¯d just confessed.


    But she didn¡¯t.


    She just sat there, quiet. Her eyes stayed on me, calm and thoughtful.


    Seconds crawled by. I didn¡¯t dare move. I was frozen like I¡¯d stepped on a landmine.


    Finally, she broke the silence.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s great.¡±


    What?


    I had so many questions racing through my mind, but first¡ªshe believed me?


    Did Chevonne really just accept that I had the power to think my thoughts out?


    I should have felt relieved, but after so long of no one ever believing me, her reaction left me flabbergasted.


    I wanted to thank her, but the words clogged my throat. I discovered in that moment it was safer to stay quiet than risk stammering like a fool.


    Thankfully, Finlay returned, sparing me further awkwardness.


    We kept walking, about fifty meters by my rough guess, when we noticed a shift in the forest around us. The trees here grew thicker than those near the shore, their bark a muddy brown with leaves as wide as our faces. Insects buzzed over us, and it took far too long to realize they weren''t just drifting leaves.


    Finlay clapped his hands together, killing one with a casual smack, as if he¡¯d done it a hundred times before.


    We leaned in and examined the squashed bug.


    It resembled a mosquito, but not quite. Too many differences. Fifteen eyes. An odd number of legs¡ªsix on the right, five on the left. Antennae twice the length of its body.


    Worst of all, it was massive¡ªeasily the size of a butterfly.


    I stared at Finlay, more surprised by his lack of fear than the bug itself.


    Before we could catch more for comparison, an eerie screech echoed from deeper in the woods.


    Or was it even an animal?


    ¡°Wait. Chers, did you hear that?¡± Finlay whispered.


    I heard it. So did Chevonne.


    But I didn¡¯t like this¡ªacting scared over sounds we couldn¡¯t see. It felt too much like giving in.


    ¡°Relax. Maybe it¡¯s your stomach,¡± I snapped. ¡°We¡¯ll find fruit soon. I¡¯m getting hungry, too.¡±


    Finlay scowled. ¡°No, cher! I heard a cry!¡±


    ¡°You sure? Josh didn¡¯t hear a thing, right, Josh?¡± Chevonne added quickly, sensing my unease. Not real fear, of course. Just... a tiny bit of fear. Microscopic.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I nodded. ¡°Not scared. Not one bit.¡±


    Finlay¡¯s head whipped around. ¡°Wait! There it is again! Heard that?!¡±


    ¡°Finlay, enough. If you keep this up, we¡¯ll leave you behind,¡± I warned, my voice sharper than I intended.


    ¡°But cher! I really heard something!¡±


    Chevonne hushed us both. ¡°Let¡¯s check that opening. Quietly.¡±


    She pointed toward a narrow break in the foliage ahead. The shrubs were thick, but two people could squeeze through.


    We crept forward, tiptoeing across damp grass littered with dry twigs. Towering coconut-like trees loomed closer now, their sharp shadows shifting. The insects buzzed louder, nearly masking the sound Finlay had described.


    Chevonne led, brushing past thorny vines that scratched our skin but not enough to stop us. I hadn¡¯t noticed Finlay falling behind until I felt his tug on my arm. Without thinking, I scooped him up and switched our places. He didn¡¯t protest. Maybe he expected me to do it.


    A sudden rustle in the canopy froze me.


    I looked up. A dark shape plunged toward us¡ªfast.


    I lunged, shoving them both aside.


    Something heavy slammed into the spot where Chevonne had just stood.


    We stared, breathless, at the massive object lying between us.


    A coconut. It was as tall as Finlay.


    Cautiously, we reached out and ran our fingers over its prickly surface. Definitely a coconut. Real. But why so enormous? And why was it so... hairy?


    I tilted my head back. More coconuts crowded the treetops above.


    The wind shifted. Shadows flickered as the crowns swayed.


    More rustling.


    I didn¡¯t wait.


    ¡°Move!¡± I shouted.


    The coconuts dropped¡ªone after another¡ªpounding the ground with heavy, earth-shaking thuds. We scrambled, dodging the falling fruit while keeping our footing on the uneven terrain.


    Finally, the last one crashed down with a final, ground-trembling impact.


    We checked ourselves¡ªscratched but safe.


    Finlay caught his breath and stared wide-eyed at the coconuts scattered across the forest floor.


    ¡°Oh my god... Are those real coconuts? They¡¯re huge!¡±


    He looked around as if expecting the trees to answer.


    ¡°Yes, but they¡¯re way too huge. And too hairy,¡± Chevonne confirmed, eyeing the oversized coconuts with a frown.


    ¡°So, should we¡ª¡± Finlay turned to her, waving his arms in exaggerated motions. When that failed, he approached me and repeated the same bizarre gestures.


    I squinted. ¡°No, we can¡¯t. The shells are too hard, and I don¡¯t have anything to crack them open. Besides, I have no clue what you''re trying to mime. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re playing charades here, Finlay.¡±


    He stifled a laugh. ¡°Why not? We won¡¯t know how hard it is until we actually try, right? Come on, cher. We¡¯re starving! And it¡¯s perfect¡ªwe could eat the meat and drink the juice. Two birds, one stone!¡± He licked his lips, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.


    ¡°If they weren¡¯t that hard, they¡¯d have cracked open the moment they hit the ground. Look up there.¡± I cupped his chin, gently but firmly, and tilted his head toward the towering treetops. ¡°Imagine falling from that height. What do you think would happen to your skull when you hit the ground?¡±


    ¡°Josh!¡± Chevonne scolded. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to him like that. He¡¯s still a child.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a child, cher. I¡¯m big enough for this,¡± Finlay shot back, puffing his chest. ¡°And, yeah, it¡¯d crack my head open.¡±


    Wow. Did he just admit that?


    And¡ªgreat¡ªI made her mad.


    ¡°Wait, cher! There it is again!¡± Finlay suddenly jumped, pointing toward the break in the foliage where the strange noise echoed louder.


    I sighed, finally giving in. ¡°Yeah... I hear it, too.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t an animal. Not some strange predator either.


    The sound felt out of place. Too familiar.


    We''d have to investigate it first. The coconuts could wait, especially since cracking one open barehanded seemed impossible. But before moving on, I asked if they could hold their hunger a little longer. Of course, they both lied and said they could.


    As much as I wanted to try breaking open the fruit, pushing forward seemed smarter.


    This whole situation was starting to wear on me. Overthinking like this drained my energy. Normally, I¡¯d brush it off, but with Chevonne here, I couldn¡¯t let myself look weak. Not now.


    When we turned to continue, Chevonne suddenly sprinted ahead toward the opening.


    ¡°Hey! Wait¡ª¡±


    Finlay and I rushed after her.


    She stopped dead.


    Her face¡ªtight with worry¡ªmade my chest tighten, too. I wanted to help. But help with what?


    Finlay and I caught up, pushing past the last few branches blocking our view.


    Then we saw it.


    My jaw dropped.


    Finlay froze, blinking as if trying to process the sight.


    ¡°Chers... Is this for real?¡± he whispered, dumbfounded.

 Chapter 8 – The Captain of the Barge

    I sat inside our room with Molly again. She wasn¡¯t saying anything¡ªjust sobbing quietly.


    "Why, ate? Why... hic... hic... I was faithful. I stayed faithful to him until the end. I even promised myself I¡¯d be serious this time. I¡¯m head over heels in love with him, but he said he didn¡¯t feel the same. That he never did. He only dated me because of my looks... never for who I really am. Uwaaa..."


    It was the worst.


    I wasn¡¯t good at consoling people. Advice never came easily to me. I tried to comfort my sister, but nothing worked. I didn¡¯t even know which boyfriend she was crying over¡ªshe had always been a serial dater. I even tried searching WikiHow for ways to help someone through a breakup, but a message popped up on my phone.


    ¡°Teacher Jelly, the headmaster wants to talk with you regarding your late submissions.¡±


    It was teacher Grumpy. Oh, no. My lesson plans had been late.


    I was just about to respond when a weak voice interrupted me.


    "Elly... Elly! Hey... you... wake..."


    I jolted awake, gasping for air. A crowd hovered nearby. A middle-aged man knelt beside me, checking my pulse.


    ¡°Are you alright? Here, try to sit up¡ªslowly,¡± he said, his voice gentle but firm. He propped me up, supporting me with his arm.


    ¡°Jelly! Oh my God, we thought you were gone!¡± Ritchelle burst out.


    ¡°You thought, not we, Ritch. Don¡¯t scare her like that,¡± Alyssa corrected.


    ¡°Hey, Elly, can you hear me? I know it¡¯s hard, but keep breathing, okay?¡± Vhina added, cupping my cheeks. She meant well, but the way she said it felt off.


    ¡°Everyone, please clear the area,¡± the man ordered. Judging by his concern and composure, he had to be a doctor. His face was rugged but handsome for an Asian man. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a strong jawline. A short, attractive goatee framed his mouth.


    Something twisted painfully in my chest.


    I went through a series of check-ups and questions after the crowd thinned, teacher Mary staying with me the entire time. My focus kept slipping. I couldn¡¯t see clearly without my glasses¡ªRitchelle said they were missing. The dizziness didn¡¯t help either.


    At some point, I drifted back to sleep.


    *****


    I woke drenched in sweat, lying on a makeshift bed pieced together from random clothes and blankets. As I scanned my cramped tent with its pointed roof, I saw nothing but my belongings. It might have felt cozy if it weren¡¯t so unbearably hot. I decided to step outside.


    People bustled under the punishing sun. I counted about half the passengers I remembered from the barge, including the crew. The doctor who had helped me earlier now attended to someone else. The young-looking old lady from the barge moved around, handing out pan burikat and various types of chicharon. She had swapped her Pikachu shirt for a sweat-soaked sweater covered in tiled Jigglypuffs.


    What was with this manang¡¯s outfit?


    The shoreline was crowded with makeshift tents cobbled together from anything¡ªcloth, wood, even jagged metal sheets yanked from somewhere.


    Metal?


    It all came back in a flash.


    The barge!


    I hurried over to teacher Mary, who watched the shore¡¯s activity with a sharp eye. ¡°Where¡¯s the barge, cher?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Jelly! I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re awake. Have you eaten yet? Ate Corazon! Can we get some food and water here?¡±


    The old lady shuffled over, still awkwardly cheery. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am, but we¡¯ve run out. Maybe we can find something deeper in the island¡ªif there are locals.¡± Her sweat-drenched sweater sagged, the Jigglypuffs wrinkled beyond recognition.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay, te,¡± I said, forcing a smile and ignoring the hunger. ¡°I¡¯m not that hungry yet.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you say so. Thank you, ate,¡± teacher Mary said before turning back to me. ¡°Now, what were you asking?¡±


    ¡°The barge,¡± I repeated. ¡°And these camps?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± She pointed to a jagged cliff nearby. ¡°The barge is anchored behind that cliff in a small cove. When I woke, we had already landed here. We tried our phones, but there¡¯s no signal. People are distraught, especially the students. They¡¯re in that tent over there.¡±


    She gestured at a sad-looking structure with driftwood hanging out front. The word "ORANGE" was scrawled across it in bold letters, though the tent itself was entirely not orange. It had teacher Mary written all over it¡ªshe loved order and color, even if she had to improvise.


    ¡°But there¡¯s a problem,¡± she continued. ¡°Some passengers are missing. I¡¯m afraid only about half of us remain.¡±


    My chest tightened. ¡°Jusko,¡± I murmured, the weight of the news sinking in.


    ¡°And another thing,¡± she added, her voice grave. ¡°Some men are trying to get the captain out of his cabin. He hasn¡¯t come out or made a sound. His cabin isn¡¯t soundproof, so he could have yelled or banged on the door if he was in trouble. And...¡±


    Her voice faltered.


    ¡°And?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°We found blood in one of the crew cabins,¡± she said quietly. ¡°We don¡¯t know whose it is. Let¡¯s hope it isn¡¯t from one of us. We¡¯ve lost track of time, too. Our phones have completely stopped working.¡±


    Teacher Mary estimated it had been two to five hours since we landed.


    ¡°Who¡¯s missing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet. Please rest for now. We¡¯ll need manpower to survive the next few hours¡ªor a day, if rescue takes longer.¡±


    Teacher Mary was sure someone would notice our absence and report it. Some of us had tried every means of communication.


    ¡°But, cher, please. Tell me who¡¯s missing from our group,¡± I insisted.


    She shot me a hard look as if trying to read my mind. She must have seen my resolve because, after a long pause, she sighed. ¡°Seven. Five teachers and two students.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that now, Jelly.¡±


    ¡°Please, teacher Mary. I need to know! Are they my friends?¡± I cried, stress and anger boiling over.


    ¡°Blanch, Veruca, Chevonne, Josh, Samuel, and Arjun for the teachers. And¡ª¡±


    ¡°The students?¡±


    ¡°Finlay and Priscilla.¡± She stiffened, her face hardening. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, teacher Jelly. Consider yourself lucky. Go back to your tent. Rest properly.¡±


    I must have looked ready to break, but I held myself together.


    ¡°It¡¯s too hot inside. Can I explore inland for a while?¡± I suggested.


    Her face darkened. She marched closer, stopping an inch from my face. ¡°Go. Get. Some. Rest.¡±


    I slouched my shoulders and turned back toward the tent when a commotion erupted from the cove. Crew members rushed toward the barge, their shouts and screams echoing. I squinted but couldn¡¯t see clearly. A figure sprinted toward us. Teacher Mary stood calmly, arms crossed, assessing the chaos.


    The figure reached us. It was Alyssa, and she was out of breath.


    Teacher Mary gave her a moment to catch her breath before nodding for me to get water. I handed Alyssa my hydro flask. She drank deeply then gasped, ¡°Cher, the captain¡¯s cabin¡ªit¡¯s been opened.¡±


    We rushed to the cove. The barge was no longer afloat as I had imagined. A fourth of it had already sunk into the shallow water. It was shallow enough to keep the captain¡¯s cabin from being submerged completely.


    People crowded around the cabin. Their faces were pale and disturbed. It was like they¡¯d seen a ghost.


    ¡°Give way. We want to see what¡¯s happening,¡± teacher Mary commanded, her voice calm but firm enough to part the crowd.


    When we stepped inside, our jaws dropped.


    The cabin was wrecked. Walls and furniture were destroyed as if some beast had rampaged through them. Deep scratches gouged every surface¡ªwalls, ceiling, floor. I knelt, tracing them with my fingers.


    They weren¡¯t human.


    Teacher Mary shrieked. I spun, startled. My eyes followed hers to the far corner where a figure slumped in an armchair.


    I squinted but couldn¡¯t make out the details. Moving closer, the shadows lifted.


    It was the captain, holding his own severed head.


    The neck area was a mangled bloody mess.


    I lurched to the side and threw up. Teacher Mary collected herself and covered the decapitated corpse with the captain¡¯s jacket, which lay nearby, draping it over the neck and down to the waist. The crew still barred people from entering, but some had glimpsed the headless captain and retreated to the shore, spreading the news. Others now pushed and jostled at the deck¡¯s perimeter.


    Teacher Norkie and Selena arrived to restore order, urging people back to their tents. The crew assisted, working to calm the passengers. Some of them wailed incoherently and tried to force their way in, keeping the crew occupied and leaving teacher Mary and me alone¡ªor so I thought.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, ma¡¯am, but you¡¯ll need to leave, too,¡± a crew member said firmly as he noticed us lingering. ¡°It¡¯s gruesome. Something you ladies shouldn¡¯t have to see.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll leave shortly,¡± teacher Mary replied. She flashed an ID, holding it just long enough for him to see before tucking it away. ¡°But I need to investigate first. Introduce me to someone qualified if you want me out.¡±


    The man scratched his head then left us alone.


    I stepped closer, whispering, ¡°What was that, cher?¡±


    Teacher Mary shifted slightly, probably avoiding the smell of my vomit. ¡°Nothing. Just an old job.¡± Her voice was even. ¡°Now, what could¡¯ve happened here?¡±


    We searched the captain¡¯s desk and cabinets, finding IDs, personal belongings, porcelain ceramics, and jars of ginamos and hipon. Bravely, teacher Mary reached into the captain¡¯s pants pocket and retrieved a purse containing ten five-centavo coins, three fifty-peso bills¡ªand a condom. She tossed it away in disgust, muttering something I couldn¡¯t catch. Then, she lifted the jacket to examine the captain¡¯s remains more closely.


    I staggered outside, sitting on the cold metal floor against the icy cabin wall, sobbing. I asked God why this had happened. It was beginning to traumatize me.


    After a while, teacher Mary emerged and nudged my shoulder. I looked up, catching my reflection in the broken cabin window¡ªpuffy eyes, tear-smudged face. She hesitated, choosing her words carefully.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back now,¡± she said softly.


    ¡°What did you find, cher?¡± I murmured, still shaky.


    She paused. ¡°Nothing¡ªexcept one thing.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It might be too disturbing for you.¡±


    ¡°Try me,¡± I lied, forcing a brave front despite the tremor in my voice.


    ¡°The captain¡¯s right eye socket was scooped out¡ªdeep, hard. I couldn¡¯t find the eyeball anywhere. This wasn¡¯t natural. Someone killed him.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s obvious from the neck.¡± I gagged again, the memory flashing back. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it terrify you?¡±


    Teacher Mary gave a wistful smile, then she slipped an arm around my shoulder, helping me up. ¡°I know it¡¯s your first time seeing something like this. I might be asking too much, but you need to move on. You need to be strong. If the students see you like this, they¡¯ll panic, too. Please, try to hold yourself together.¡±


    I broke into sobs again. How could she expect me to forget something so horrific? If only I hadn¡¯t joined this training camp¡ªif not for my stupid romantic encounter!


    Teacher Mary comforted me a moment longer before we left the deck. Some crew members guided us off the barge and into the shallow water.


    Vhina and Ritchelle splashed toward us from the shore, worry etched on their faces. I straightened, trying to appear calm.


    ¡°Hey, how are the students?¡± I asked, keeping my voice from cracking.


    ¡°They¡¯ve stopped crying. Teacher Selena¡¯s keeping them occupied,¡± Vhina said. Then, she added, voice trembling, ¡°Is it true?¡± She pointed toward the half-sunken barge.


    ¡°We heard stories, but they all sound different. What really happened?¡± Ritchelle asked, her knees starting to buckle.


    Teacher Mary handed me off to them. ¡°Take her back to the shore. I need to check something else.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going, cher?¡± I called weakly.


    ¡°There¡¯s more I need to examine,¡± she replied, wading back toward the barge. She paused, giving me a look I understood instantly before the crew helped her back onboard.


    As soon as she was out of sight, Vhina turned to me. ¡°So? Will you tell us now?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the tent first,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll explain there.¡±


    Once inside the makeshift shelter, Vhina handed me my hydro flask. I snatched it, gulping the water and taking a deep breath before telling them everything we saw. Ritchelle turned pale at first, then she burst into tears, collapsing against Vhina, who remained oddly calm.


    ¡°We¡¯re all gonna die here,¡± Ritchelle whimpered. ¡°They¡¯ll kill us before anyone comes to rescue us!¡±


    Vhina¡¯s eyes welled up, too, but her brows furrowed with determination.


    I slapped my cheeks lightly, recalling teacher Mary¡¯s words. I had to stay strong.


    ¡°We have to tell everyone what happened,¡± I said, my knees weak.


    ¡°How? It¡¯s almost dark, and people are already splitting up¡ªsome looking for food, some mistrusting the crew, even forming groups. And the only man who could get us out of here is dead. Headless!¡± Ritchelle¡¯s voice cracked.


    ¡°I know, but we can¡¯t keep this to ourselves. They deserve to know.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to gather the teachers first?¡± Vhina suggested.


    ¡°Yes. And the students must not hear a word about this. They¡¯re too young for this nightmare.¡±


    Ritchelle wiped her face and stood, gripping my shoulders. ¡°Alright. Jelly, I¡¯ll gather everyone we can find¡ªteachers and strangers alike. You explain what happened. We¡¯ll watch for suspicious reactions.¡±


    ¡°I saw the doctor go to the barge earlier,¡± Vhina added. ¡°Teacher Mary might¡¯ve called him for help. I think he¡¯s out of the picture.¡±


    ¡°What about the varsity guy? The one with the baseball bat? He¡¯s too suspicious,¡± Ritchelle pressed. ¡°I don¡¯t believe he¡¯s keeping it just for self-defense.¡±


    ¡°I saw him go inland with a bunch of younger women,¡± Vhina said. ¡°He promised to protect them with all his strength. If he¡¯s involved, he¡¯ll be tough to handle.¡±


    ¡°Any other suspicious people?¡± Ritchelle asked.


    ¡°No one comes to mind.¡±


    ¡°Why focus on the men? Women can kill, too.¡±


    ¡°Do you know any women capable of doing this?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    ¡°Then we have no leads yet. How about the teachers?¡±


    ¡°Ritch, what are you implying? We¡¯re teachers, not murderers.¡±


    ¡°You know we can¡¯t rule ourselves out, Vhi. Whoever did this is still among us, lurking on the shore right now.¡±


    Silence fell. Ritchelle touched her chin, lost in thought. She was recovering faster than I¡¯d expected.


    ¡°This must¡¯ve happened between the seaquake and when we washed ashore. Does anyone remember who woke up first?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. I shot to my feet, fists clenched. ¡°Stop! I can¡¯t follow what you¡¯re saying. What are you even talking about? What nonsense is this?¡±


    They stared at me, then they exchanged a glance. Finally, Vhina answered with chilling calm.


    ¡°Elly, we¡¯re trying to find the captain¡¯s murderer. And it¡¯s someone here among us.¡±

 Chapter 9 – The Edifice

    This might be some kind of mistake. Or a dream.


    The behemoth just five meters ahead of us¡ªthe one we found unrealistic¡ªwas a dilapidated edifice stretching from one side of the woods to the other. We couldn¡¯t see the far end as it was heavily enshrouded by coconut-looking trees, which we all agreed to call "cocohair trees," visible through the windows and cracks. Yet, memory-wise, we might know how massive it was.


    The cry we heard¡ªand still ongoing¡ªcame from a fire alarm. It was still functional and noisy despite the building''s condition.


    I was about to warn everyone to be cautious when Chevonne, once again, sprinted toward the main facade, entering through the wide-open entrance. Shards of glass littered the threshold where doors should have been. We followed her quickly to avoid losing sight of her.


    The sound finally ceased. She must have turned it off already.


    We tiptoed inside, awestruck as we crossed the main gate¡ªironically, without gates¡ªand proceeded through the entrance with caution. We examined each run-down piece of furniture and the ceiling, thick with ancient-looking cobwebs. Vines slithered through cracks and holes in the walls, which were covered by an antediluvian layer of niter. Each step we took kicked up clouds of dust and pollen, swirling in the stale air. A pungent smell coated the atmosphere, crinkling our noses as we tried to verify the facts of this farce.


    I believed everything here was a farce.


    ¡°Chevonne! Where are you going?¡± I shouted up the main staircase where we last saw her. It was nearly crumbling.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check something upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Be careful with your steps! I think those stairs might give way under your weight,¡± I blurted without thinking, immediately regretting it. "No, um, that¡¯s not what I mea¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is that your way of calling me fat?¡± Chevonne shouted back, her head sticking out from the small gap between the U-shaped staircase. She was already on the third floor.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I meant! I¡¯m saying this building is old enough to crumble any minute now!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a minute. Don¡¯t worry about me. I know the way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, we all know the way¡ªif this is what I think it is! Just be careful!¡±


    ¡°Stop whining! I told you I¡¯ll be back in a minute!¡± she shouted, louder than before, then disappeared from view. Were we fighting? I knew I should be worried because our friendship was on the line, but I couldn¡¯t help thinking we looked like a couple having an argument.


    ¡°No, just¡­ We¡¯ll be there, so wait for us,¡± I called back weakly, doubting she even heard me.


    No reply. Damn. She must have gone to the next floor already.


    Finlay appeared from behind, holding something bone-white and long. ¡°Cher, is this real?¡±


    I snatched it from him, examining the structure. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was authentic. Chevonne could probably identify it if she hadn¡¯t rushed upstairs without a word.


    That woman.


    I couldn¡¯t stay mad at her, though. That attitude of hers¡ªstubborn, sharp¡ªwas oddly endearing.


    ¡°Where did you find this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°There, near the elevator. Lots of them inside with piles of dust around.¡±


    We pushed through thick underbrush that had somehow crept indoors, reaching the elevator. I peered inside and saw leafy plants sprouting through cracks and holes in the rusted lift. The bones were easy to spot, heaped in a corner. Some had crumbled into powder as fine as sand. They didn¡¯t look human. They could be animal remains left behind by whatever had lived here.


    We explored the rest of the first floor. It was a wide, open space of about a hundred square meters, choked with overgrowth and rubble. Some debris seemed to have fallen from above¡ªthere was a gaping hole in the ceiling, exposing the next floor''s roof.


    As we stepped in, the satisfying crunch beneath our feet made me glance down. Finlay crouched, picked something from my tracks, and held it up. I immediately grabbed it from him, kneeling to examine the spot where he¡¯d found it.


    God, another pile of bones.


    After checking the wide space, just making sure it was what I thought it was, we climbed upstairs and skipped the second floor. The staircase was slightly crumbling; pieces of cement detached from the steps as we moved, even though we were slow and careful. We set foot on the third floor, and I immediately noticed the ceiling here was higher compared to the first floor, which felt strange and invalidating. All rooms only reached halfway up the walls, leaving a wide gap between the top of the rooms and the ceiling.


    This was wrong. It didn¡¯t fit the puzzle at all.


    We walked through the lobby where rubble blocked most rooms except the one adjacent to the main staircase. We approached and checked inside.


    There was no roof.


    It must have collapsed long ago, leaving the room open all the way to the high ceiling. Finlay nearly shoved me aside to enter first. He rummaged through the debris, picking objects with a strange, quiet focus. His lips curled into a melancholic smile as he stashed a palm-sized piece of wood into his gray trousers¡¯ pocket. His uniform looked even more worn with every step we took through this farce of a place, searching for clues that might give us answers.


    This building was a mystery. It had nothing to do with contacting the outside world, yet somehow, deep inside, we clung to the hope it could help us.


    We forced our way into the other blocked rooms, only reinforcing my suspicions about this edifice. However, the ceiling¡¯s unnatural height invalidated everything we thought we knew so far. If that was the case, how else was this different?


    We returned to the main staircase when something fell from above¡ªbarely missing Finlay.


    ¡°Oh my¡­ That was close!¡± he gasped, clutching his chest. His uniform crumpled in his grip, tearing slightly at the seams. He didn¡¯t even notice.


    A large chunk of rubble fell from above. It was heavy enough to be deadly from such a height.


    I¡¯d be in serious trouble if something happened to him. After all, I was responsible for my student¡¯s safety.


    The problem was¡ªhad it really fallen from the ceiling?


    ¡°Come here, Finlay. You¡¯re such a lucky kid. From now on, I¡¯m going to call you Lucky Kid. Seems like Lady Luck is on your side today,¡± I said in a pretentious, monotonous tone. I tried to sound indifferent, not wanting him to think I cared too much. But if he sensed it, the thought of it haunting my conscience for life made my stomach knot.


    He dared to pick up the rubble, holding it up near his right eye with the other one closed¡ªlike a sniper locking on a target. I sighed, humoring him, and sank onto the third step of the staircase, watching him like a father watching over his growing child.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Cher! Come here. I found something interesting!¡± he called joyfully, still focused on his imaginary target.


    ¡°Oh? What could it be? An alien? Or your doppelganger? If it¡¯s the latter, we¡¯d have a problem,¡± I teased.


    ¡°No, cher. I think it¡¯s what we¡¯ve been looking for! You think this building¡¯s something? Look at this!¡±


    That statement¡ªtrue or not¡ªgot me on my feet. I approached him quickly, impatience boiling in my chest. ¡°What do you mean? Show me.¡±


    ¡°This rubble fits perfectly over there. Look at the middle wall.¡±


    I followed his pointing finger and noticed the jagged edges on the mid-wall. That was something new. It hadn¡¯t fallen from the ceiling at all.


    I moved to the right wall, running my fingers along the rough cement edges clinging to the mid-wall. Realization hit fast enough it could knock me off my feet if it had been a punch. I rushed back to the staircase, climbing to the next landing before curving around toward the next flight¡ªexcept it was gone. The whole section had collapsed, severing access to the next floor.


    Turning back, I examined the rough edges where the steps had once been. They aligned perfectly with the jagged edges from the opposite wall. Sitting on the broken landing, I dangled my feet over the gap, the puzzle pieces snapping into place in my mind.


    There had been another floor here once.


    The ceiling wasn¡¯t high at all. This space was two floors combined, the fourth floor had completely caved in on the third, creating the illusion of a vast atrium. Now, it made perfect sense why the rubble was scattered so thickly below.


    I was so ecstatic about my achievement that I almost forgot about Chevonne.


    ¡°Hey, Lucky Kid, where do you think teacher Chevonne went? This looks like a dead end to me,¡± I asked, stupidly expecting a child to solve something I couldn¡¯t figure out myself.


    ¡°So, is this really the building, cher? If it is, teacher Chevonne might have taken the fire exit to the fifth floor.¡±


    Well, the kid still had some wits left in him.


    *****


    We soon removed all the rubble blocking the fire exit at the far corner of the lobby. It took a while because I did eighty percent of the work while Lucky Kid barely moved any debris out of the way.


    It made me realize that if Chevonne had gone this way, the path would have been clear, right? Why did I keep asking questions with no answers? Damn, another question. I finally got tired of thinking and just went through the door. Lucky Kid followed.


    We reached the fifth floor without breaking a sweat. Clearing the fire exit had been the hardest part since entering the building. The whole floor brought a nostalgic smile to my face. We shouted Chevonne¡¯s name countless times but got no reply.


    Lucky Kid lurched aside as a chunk of cement fell from the ceiling¡ªLady Luck hadn¡¯t left him yet¡ªleaving a hole large enough for us to see the stratus clouds in the sky. It was dipped in rich marmalade. It was almost nightfall. If we couldn¡¯t find Chevonne soon, it would be a huge problem.


    We searched room after room, full of rubble, cracks, vines, cobwebs, mold, and everything unpleasant. There was no sign of her. Where could she be? After checking the last room, something struck me¡ªan idea I couldn¡¯t shake off.


    ¡°Lucky Kid! Wait here. I¡¯ll check the rooftop!¡± I shouted loud enough to echo across the entire floor. Hopefully, he heard me. The last thing I needed was him getting hit by falling debris or attacked by some wild animal lurking around.


    Without waiting for a reply, I lurched back to the fire exit and climbed to the rooftop. Plants, vines, and leafy greenery I¡¯d never seen before covered the area. There were even smaller versions of cocohair trees and holes large enough for me to pass through¡ªor fall through.


    I searched every corner, and there, at the farthest edge of the rooftop, almost silhouetted against the luminous sunset, was Chevonne.


    Even her silhouette looked stunning.


    ¡°Why weren¡¯t you answering us? I don¡¯t doubt you can hear us here,¡± I called out.


    ¡°Sorry for that, and thank you for looking for me,¡± she replied with a small smile. I noticed she was sweating a lot.


    ¡°So? What are you doing up here?¡±


    ¡°Something that I must do.¡±


    ¡°Mind sharing it? You seem to have run a mile.¡±


    ¡°In due time. You will eventually know it.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is it something like my secret? Maybe you¡¯ve contacted God here to save us?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for you to guess.¡±


    ¡°Are we playing a guessing game now? Never thought of you being like that.¡±


    ¡°Are you picking a fight?¡±


    ¡°No, I just want to clarify some things here. No, let me try again. I want some clarification about everything here.¡±


    ¡°But why do you sound so irritated and impatient?¡±


    ¡°Look, Chevonne. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I¡¯m not irritated at you. I¡¯m just really¡ªsuper¡ªtired of everything that¡¯s been happening. We walked for hours, thirsty and hungry, hoping to find some locals and get off this island as soon as possible, which might be uninhabited in the first place, only to end up here, complicating our situation even more. But don¡¯t get me wrong about that either. There¡¯s something inside me that makes me happy I¡¯m stranded on this island with y¡ªI mean¡ªthe three of us,¡± I replied defensively without thinking properly. What was I saying now? This was the longest I had spoken to her ever since. Maybe it was the fatigue creeping into me. ¡°But not really happy we¡¯re stranded. It¡¯s just that, I, um¡ªoh, never mind. How did you come up here, anyway? Most of the passages were blocked, if not all.¡±


    There was a long pause, which was an indication she was thinking about how to answer me after everything I said, before calmly replying, ¡°See that hole there? I went through that using a handful of sturdy debris, piling them on top of each other until it was enough for me to reach the edges. I lifted myself all the way through.¡±


    I felt relieved she only answered my last question. I hoped she wouldn¡¯t mind the rest of what I said.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s quite creative of you. Ingenious, if I may choose my word correctly.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an English teacher for you.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s a Science teacher standing right in front of me. Would you attempt to explain what happened here? Or what¡¯s happening with us? You might know the answer with that look on your face when you came rushing in here. If you ask me, though, it¡¯s a total farce. This is just too impossible for me to believe,¡± I started again.


    What was happening to me? I was starting to lose my cool. I knew I was tired of all this nonsense and just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, but I needed to stay calm and rational, especially in front of her.


    ¡°But we¡¯re here, right? We can see it. We can feel that everything here is real.¡±


    ¡°Then, would you care to tell me the truth? There¡¯s no need for you to hide things now,¡± I challenged her, risking the relationship I had started building.


    ¡°Again, all in due time. Believe me, you will know it eventually.¡±


    I now regretted what I had said. She was on another level. The way she kept the conversation pleasant and calm made me feel more desperate, which could make me look foolish if I continued pressing her.


    It was my loss.


    I tried to smile but failed miserably. My pride stirred, but I couldn¡¯t do anything about it with how nonchalantly she spoke to me and these stupid feelings I was keeping from her. I wanted to treasure them, so I just kept my mouth shut and accepted defeat.


    Minutes passed before I noticed the whole area being coated with atomic tangerine and a kiss of velvet hue whooshing over the horizon¡ªromantic enough for a confession.


    Finally, there was a perfect opportunity for me to confess. I drew myself closer to her and managed an awkward but sincere smile, believing it was the best I could offer after all I had said. The smile she returned pierced my heart. It felt like pity, the same smile my friends had given me after my father scolded me for my failing grades on card-giving day.


    I backed away, feeling ashamed. Of all we¡¯d been through, why was I prioritizing my confession now? This was the wrong place and time. Maybe I should keep it to myself a little longer.


    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s go down,¡± I said, swallowing the words I had meant to say. My voice regressed to the way I used to speak to her before.


    We found Lucky Kid sitting on one of the few intact tables in a spacious room full of overgrown grass and piles of rubble. The moss was thick. He waved as soon as he noticed us. I asked where he had been while I was gone, and Chevonne asked why I kept calling him Lucky Kid, which I explained poorly.


    ¡°So, chers, what do you think of this building?¡± Lucky Kid asked, voicing the same question that had been on my mind, now more unsettling than ever.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know everything about this island, but one thing I¡¯m sure of: This building is exactly what we think it is. I especially can¡¯t forget that table you¡¯re sitting on, Lucky Kid. How could I?¡± I said, tracing my fingers along the beautiful twig patterns etched into the tabletop.


    ¡°Everything here is real, Finlay,¡± Chevonne added, giving me a mysterious glare I must have misunderstood.


    Lucky Kid hopped off the table and, with a childish smile, unsheathed the piece of wood he had picked up earlier on the third floor.


    ¡°This is part of the cabinet project I worked on back in Year 7. See? My name¡¯s still carved on it¡ªfaint but visible. It¡¯s amazing to see this again.¡±


    He offered the wood to me. It was true¡ªI could read his name on it. The three of us exchanged glances and went to the last room I had checked earlier before going to the rooftop. They both got amazed at how some things were still in good shape. I approached a table near the door, searching for something. It was still there. I picked it up, blew the dust off, and wiped away the mold inside. The spoon was missing, but I still couldn¡¯t believe it had survived.


    It was my coffee mug.


    This edifice, without a doubt, was Arullina National High School.

 Chapter 10 – The Decision

    The body was removed from the cabin already. The crew found an open area near the shore where they buried the corpse along with its head. Other passengers were still crying in their makeshift tents. Our hope of leaving the island felt more distant than ever.


    I peeked outside my tent and spotted teacher Mary at the far corner of the shore near the coconut trees, surveying the area and trying to identify suspects. She seemed unable to fully believe what had happened, though the experience wasn''t unfamiliar to her.


    She had shared with me a bit about her past before we disembarked from the barge after finding the captain''s body. It was perhaps to distract me from the horror. She had once been an investigator and still carried her ID¡ªillegally¡ªbelieving it might be useful one day, which it had been. It had been a long time since she''d last seen a corpse, and it had terrified her, making her scream in an uncharacteristic way.


    Lately, things had been better for her. Her husband had stopped drinking, and her eldest daughter had recently graduated elementary with honors. It had been a marvelous year for her¡ªuntil now. She was aware of her tendency for obsessive organization and mild OCD, but she struggled to stay composed as events unfolded.


    Her gaze fell on a moving figure emerging from the woods: Alyssa. She was carrying a backpack filled with fruits. I could see apples, oranges, and grapes as she emptied them onto a malong near the white tent designated for food storage. I turned back toward my bed when a sudden realization stopped me mid-step.


    Apples, oranges, and grapes? How on earth were they here in Bantayan?


    I went outside and approached Alyssa. Teacher Mary was already questioning her.


    ¡°Teacher Alyssa, may I know where you got those?¡± she asked, pointing at the fruits on the malong.


    We were both wondering the same thing.


    ¡°Oh, hi, Jelly,¡± she greeted me, then she answered teacher Mary, ¡°Since we have a lot of free time, Ritchelle, Vhina, and I went to find something to eat in the jungle. We were lucky to find these.¡± She gestured to the fruits and added, ¡°It¡¯s strange for an island like this to have these kinds of fruits.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we have enough rations already? I thought some people gathered food earlier today?¡± teacher Mary asked.


    ¡°Yes, cher. Some even added the little food they salvaged from the barge in the yellow tent. However, after Jelly told the truth about the captain, some left, bringing ample provisions with them. We thought we should replenish our stock.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s odd. Anyway, are you sure you picked those fruits from their trees?¡±


    ¡°Yes, cher. Vhina was the most shocked. She kept saying it was impossible and that there was no way they could grow here. Well, for me, I don¡¯t really care what grows here as long as they¡¯re edible,¡± Alyssa replied, biting into an apple.


    Teacher Mary just stared at her for a moment, then she went to the blue tent. I asked Alyssa more questions, but she just handed me an apple.


    *****


    An emergency meeting had been called in the largest tent on the shore¡ªthe blue tent. It wasn¡¯t actually painted blue but marked by a piece of stenciled driftwood hanging near the top. People who chose to stay were gathered outside, nervously waiting for a decision. The student council officers had been isolated in the orange tent with teacher Selena and teacher Norkie guarding the perimeter¡ªteacher Mary didn¡¯t want them hearing the news about the barge captain as well.


    Inside the blue tent were teacher Mary, the doctor, an old-looking man who I guessed was in his late forties, a businessman with a torn suit, and me. The four of us were chosen to decide because of our influence outside the island, which could improve our chances of rescue.


    It was my first time seeing the businessman. He had a balding head, a clean-shaven face, and drooping eyes.


    There were no chairs, so we improvised, piling up salvaged items to resemble seats. We had taken the late captain¡¯s study table, and the four of us sat tensely around it¡ªespecially me.


    I was the youngest and most amateur-looking one among us. I had been included in the meeting because I saw what was inside the captain¡¯s cabin. But it was more likely because teacher Mary summoned me and no one had the courage to challenge her. At least, that was what I thought.


    The businessman adjusted his seating position, trying to get comfortable, but his weight made it difficult. He finally settled and then rudely asked, ¡°And why would a young woman be ¡®ere with us?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Dr. Niel. She¡¯s also a teacher, and she¡¯s old enough to share her opinion. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to have her around, would it?¡± the doctor who had taken care of me since we got stranded¡ªand who had nursed me back to a stable mental state after the incident in the captain¡¯s cabin¡ªanswered calmly. He reminded me of the favorite uncle of a group of children back in our neighborhood in Tabogon. ¡°You¡¯re a professor at a well-known university in Cebu. You should know how a teacher¡¯s opinion can have an impact. I believe you know it because you¡¯re a teacher yourself.¡±


    So, he was not a businessman.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but can¡¯t we just start this meeting? People entrusted us with deciding how to move forward. Aside from the captain being dead, we still have missing people. One of the barge crew members reported about thirty people total, including those who went inland. Now, isn¡¯t that more concerning than arguing over someone¡¯s presence, doctor?¡± teacher Mary interrupted. I wasn¡¯t sure which doctor she was referring to, but I¡¯d bet it was the professor.


    Dr. Niel was taken aback for a moment by the sudden opposition but quickly recovered with a single, pretentious cough, which I believed was his petty attempt to clear his throat. ¡°I was supposed to be ¡®aving a seminar at Salazar Colleges of Science and Business in Bantayan an hour ago, or maybe hours already. Judging by the sun¡¯s position outside and the heat tormenting us, I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s around two in the afternoon.¡±


    I had a wild thought that he and Vhina would surely not have a peaceful conversation if the opportunity arose.


    ¡°So,¡± teacher Mary continued, seemingly guessing what the professor was pointing out, ¡°they might have already been trying to contact you. And since they can¡¯t reach you, they might have already called someone from your university.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I think it¡¯s convenient for us since the distance between Hagnaya and Bantayan isn¡¯t that far. Port operatives on the island might already be alarmed,¡± the other doctor¡ªmy doctor¡ªsaid. It silenced teacher Mary, and she gave him a condescending look.


    ¡°You¡¯re right there, um... What was your name again?¡± Dr. Niel asked.


    ¡°Lorena,¡± the doctor replied. He let out a charming chuckle and clarified, ¡°Actually, I¡¯d rather appreciate it if you¡¯d just call me Shawn. It¡¯s my given name.¡±


    ¡°Wait. Are you the well-known Dr. Shawn Lorena? A successful entrepreneur slash doctor in Rodrigo Sotto ¡®ospital?¡±


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s something I¡¯d rather not be called, especially in front of everyone. Just call me Shawn, please.¡±


    ¡°So, are we going to come up with a decision now?¡± teacher Mary interrupted again, asserting her authority. Though an instructional supervisor wasn¡¯t much compared to the two of them, her personality and pride wouldn¡¯t allow her to feel inferior.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The two returned to being serious. Dr. Niel was about to speak when I realized something and shot to my feet.


    ¡°Um... Aren¡¯t we already in Bantayan?¡± I blurted out, breaking the tense atmosphere. The three turned to me, giving blank stares. Embarrassed, I sat back down.


    ¡°That¡¯s actually a point worth considering,¡± Dr. Niel replied.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t think of it. It completely went over my head,¡± Dr. Shawn admitted.


    Teacher Mary gave me a soft, warm pat on the back, perhaps silently commending me. ¡°Now, we might think we¡¯re in Bantayan, but everything else here doesn¡¯t make sense. We should have seen more people by now.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re not in Bantayan Island but on one of the surrounding islands. What do you think?¡± Dr. Shawn guessed. He pulled out a half-emptied Nature Spring bottle from his long, dirty-white coat and finished what was left. He wiped his bearded mouth in one swift motion, giving off a rugged charm. I couldn¡¯t help noticing how attractive he was for his age.


    ¡°You might be right. So, all we need is to wait for rescue,¡± Dr. Niel cautiously concluded.


    ¡°Not just wait. Let¡¯s at least survive. We can divide the remaining crowd into groups handling specific tasks. Isn¡¯t that the best thing we can do for now?¡±


    ¡°¡®ow about the children? I¡¯ve seen some students in one of the tents,¡± Dr. Niel said, giving a judgmental look straight at teacher Mary. She didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°It¡¯s not unusual for us to bring them along, especially when we have a training to conduct for the betterment of the school¡¯s student council. You should know that, professor,¡± teacher Mary retorted with a tinge of authority.


    ¡°Is there really a need to bring them all to Bantayan? I don¡¯t quite see the need.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we have their parents¡¯ consent, and they¡¯re in good hands.¡±


    ¡°¡®ow sure are you they are all in good ¡®ands, teacher? Can you still say that they are in good ¡®ands right now?¡±


    ¡°Why does it matter to you that much?¡±


    ¡°Well, because I¡¯m a teacher myself.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just like having field trips. The complete change in environment helps boost their learning experiences.¡±


    ¡°Does it really have to be in Bantayan? There are plenty of educational environments in Cebu City or nearby municipalities. Why here?¡±


    Their argument continued for several minutes while Dr. Shawn and I remained speechless, not daring to interrupt for fear of being lashed out at any moment.


    Dr. Shawn moved closer to me, a gesture I consciously noticed, making my heart race. ¡°Hi, teacher Jelly. How are you feeling?¡±


    I was confused about how to reply. ¡°I¡¯m doing well, Doc. Thanks for your help.¡±


    ¡°No worries. Do you ever feel dizzy?¡±


    ¡°Well, sometimes. But it¡¯s nothing serious, so I usually just ignore it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t neglect it like that. It could be something serious. Or worse.¡±


    I shied away, embarrassed. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Just make sure to drink a lot of water. It¡¯s the natural way to cure dizziness.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re a Science teacher. What was your major in college?¡±


    ¡°Biochemistry.¡±


    ¡°Oh? So, you¡¯re good with chemical processes within living organisms?¡±


    ¡°Not really. It wasn¡¯t my choice to be a Biochem student. It was my sister¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Really? What course did you want to take?¡±


    I hesitated, barely able to look him in the eye. No one knew what I truly wanted in life, not even Molly. But for some reason, I felt the sudden urge to share it now¡ªwith him.


    After a pause, during which the doctor waited patiently, I finally muttered, ¡°I wanted to enroll in medical school. I wanted to be a doctor.¡±


    Dr. Shawn paused. ¡°Well, isn¡¯t Biochemistry a pre-med course?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but not BSEd. I wanted a BA or BS degree. I don¡¯t really like teaching in general.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still great, though. Being a teacher isn¡¯t easy, especially talking in front of students. I once lectured in front of aspiring doctors at UR Med. Even now, I still feel the nervousness from that day. It¡¯s scary.¡±


    Teacher Mary interrupted, halting me mid-reply. ¡°I think this meeting is going nowhere at this rate.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because you keep babbling nonsensical stuff,¡± Dr. Niel defended.


    ¡°Oh? Me? Aren¡¯t you the talker here?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just come up with a decision we can all agree on?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I was trying to tell you earlier! But we kept talking about irrelevant stuff instead of focusing on our primary objective!¡± She was on the verge of losing her cool. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s handle this quickly and rationally. Should we divide the remaining people and assign them tasks?¡±


    The three of us didn¡¯t reply, which, for teacher Mary, seemed like an agreement.


    ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s discuss how to divide them.¡±


    *****


    The meeting lasted about an hour. I excused myself briefly to use the makeshift comfort room. Passing by the orange tent, I greeted teacher Selena and teacher Norkie. Without much thought, I peeked inside.


    Rex was still working through the S-tier English workbook his uncle had entrusted him with on the barge. When I asked about it, he said he needed to finish it to learn the basic rules of grammar¡ªand how to break them masterfully for effect in writing. I told him it was great since he wanted to be like Josh, but he clarified that while he wanted to teach, he didn¡¯t plan on teaching English.


    He wanted to teach kindergarteners.


    By the way he spoke, he didn¡¯t seem entirely committed yet, but he told me he¡¯d once visited a daycare full of small children¡ªso small he joked he could fit them in his pockets. It made me giggle. He was amazed by how the teachers managed everything despite the cries and little fights.


    To him, it looked fun.


    On a side note, he asked what was happening outside and why they weren¡¯t allowed to leave the tent without a teacher. He also asked about his uncle¡¯s whereabouts, mentioning that Josh had never checked in on him yet.


    Before I could reply, someone patted his left shoulder. When he turned, a finger was poised, ready to poke his cheek.


    It was Maynard, the auditor.


    ¡°Hi, teacher Jelly. Rex, are you done yet? We might as well start planning the retreat budget. Or maybe you¡¯ve already started,¡± he said, his voice heavy with drowsiness.


    Maynard, a four-foot-tall, chubby student, looked almost like a caricature of a stereotypical bully. His small uniform stretched tightly over his bulk with bulges and excess fat visible at every seam. He seemed like he was about to demand Rex¡¯s pocket money.


    Rex turned to face him and said squarely, ¡°Look, I might be one of the officers, but I have no intention of being friends with you¡ªor anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Man, come on. I¡¯m your best pal when it comes to this stuff. Treasurers and auditors are inseparable in the council. You might as well befriend me.¡±


    ¡°You know why I signed up for this, right? Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll finish the budget plan and pass it to you for double-checking. No need to come talk to me.¡±


    ¡°Man, you¡¯re a letdown. Just make sure to leave it near the makeshift table I made,¡± he said, pointing to a pile of clothes and driftwood.


    After Maynard returned to his spot, Rex continued working. I stood behind him, observing his progress. He was working on subject-verb agreement when he mentioned a tingling sensation on his cheek. The feeling worsened as time passed, growing so intense he said he couldn¡¯t ignore it anymore.


    He stood but stumbled, knocking over his backpack, which he had been using as a makeshift table. As he tried to get up and reach the tent¡¯s opening, Joseph blocked his way. I hadn¡¯t even noticed him inside before. Despite his usual attitude, he actually asked Rex something instead of making a rude remark.


    ¡°Where are you going? Didn¡¯t teacher Selena say you need permission before leaving?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯m going to ask her now. Move if you don¡¯t want to get hurt.¡±


    ¡°Really? Were you a delinquent before? What a foul mouth.¡±


    Rex winced. The tingling had clearly turned into pain. ¡°Move. One more word, and I¡¯ll hit you.¡±


    ¡°Try me. I¡¯m the acting president here, and I have the right to disci¡ª¡±


    Joseph never finished. Rex hit him. Hard.


    I froze, unable to react as a teacher.


    Joseph rolled onto the sand, landing with a loud thud against the metal tent post. He sat there, stunned, wiping his bleeding lip. ¡°Now, you¡¯ve done it. Swear to God, you¡¯re not leaving this tent while I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I warned you. Don¡¯t threaten me unless you want another hit.¡±


    Joseph¡¯s face shifted. His usual aloof demeanor vanished. ¡°You know,¡± he said with a calmness that felt strangely out of character, ¡°I wasn¡¯t supposed to talk to you. I¡¯m playing the shut-in, antisocial nerd who just wants to game all day. But I can drop the act right now and show you something interesting.¡± His voice was chillingly controlled. ¡°So, where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Shut it, nerd.¡±


    ¡°That was your last chance. Thanks for your service in the council.¡±


    I didn¡¯t stay to see what happened next. I returned to the blue tent immediately. Surely, it was just a childish fight. Still, I told teacher Norkie and teacher Selena¡ªthough I should probably inform teacher Mary, too.

 Chapter 11 – The Monster

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot, Lucky Kid. Now, how do we start a fire again?¡±


    The cold gnawed at my fingers as I crouched low, gripping two dry branches. Their rough bark scraped my palms as I pressed them together, trying to spark a flame by rubbing them back and forth.


    It felt clumsy, desperate even. The truth? I didn¡¯t really know how to make a fire. My only knowledge came from a few survival books and videos where people made it look so easy¡ªthey just rubbed two sticks together until a spark ignited. But reality wasn''t so kind.


    The only light we had came from the weak beams of our phones¡¯ flashlight apps, casting pale, flickering circles across the darkened floor. Their batteries were nearly dead, but for now, they gave us enough visibility to avoid tripping over debris. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, making the space feel colder and smaller. The night pressed in on us.


    Still, the damp chill gnawed deeper. Our breaths came out in pale clouds. Fire was more than comfort¡ªit was a necessity.


    I kept rubbing the sticks, skin raw, arms aching. Nothing. Minutes passed, and there was still no warmth. No spark.


    Finally, I slumped against the wall near the elevator, pressing my frozen hands to my knees in defeat. My chest tightened, humiliation settling heavy. Lucky Kid, curled up across from me, was doing a lousy job hiding his amusement. His smirk flickered under the dim light as he watched me fail spectacularly.


    ¡°Josh,¡± Chevonne said gently, cutting the tension. ¡°I grabbed some things from the fifth floor. Maybe they¡¯ll help.¡±


    She knelt and set down the contents of her haul: a few crumbling sheets of paper, some rusty paper clips, and a broken Rubik¡¯s cube.


    I stared at them. My heart sank.


    ¡°How can these help us? What do you expect me to do? Make a bonfire out of paper clips?¡± My voice came out sharper than I intended, frustration bleeding through my embarrassment.


    Chevonne stayed calm, her gaze steady. ¡°This is all I could find. Most of the other stuff was either shattered or too heavy to carry down alone. Let¡¯s figure something out together.¡±


    We knelt around the pitiful pile of scraps as if staring long enough might reveal some hidden solution. The damp air pressed against my neck; it was the kind of cold that made you feel hollow.


    Lucky Kid, oblivious to the tension, snatched a dry twig and began rubbing it on the paper. Then, the Rubik¡¯s cube. Then, a paperclip.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I snapped.


    ¡°Trying to make fire,¡± he mumbled, teeth chattering as he worked.


    ¡°With a Rubik¡¯s cube? Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll work,¡± he muttered stubbornly. ¡°You never know.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for not paying attention in Science class. Aren¡¯t you embarrassed in front of teacher Chevonne? If this worked, she¡¯d have already done it.¡±


    Chevonne raised an eyebrow at me but didn¡¯t interrupt. Lucky Kid scowled.


    ¡°Well, what else can we do?¡± his voice cracked with frustration. ¡°It¡¯s freezing, and we need heat now!¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. The icy air had our teeth chattering, our hands trembling. But it didn¡¯t make his twig-and-paper-clip experiment any less ridiculous.


    I stared at the sad pile of junk again. The crumpled paper. The Rubik¡¯s cube. Paper clips.


    Then, something clicked.


    ¡°Chevonne,¡± I said, rising to my feet. ¡°Keep an eye on Lucky Kid. I¡¯m going upstairs. I need to check something.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? Be careful up there. It¡¯s dark and¡­ scary.¡±


    Her voice wavered slightly, barely above a whisper. The way her eyes flicked toward the shadows pressing in around us reminded me of how tense she¡¯d been earlier¡ªever since we heard that chilling cry in the woods.


    I straightened, trying to mask the tightness in my chest. ¡°Don¡¯t take me for a kid who gets scared of the dark that easily.¡±


    But even as I said it, the memory of how I froze back then clawed at me. I had to prove I wasn¡¯t weak¡ªnot to her, not to myself.


    I turned away and made for the fire exit, choosing it over the crumbling main staircase. The whole structure had felt unstable the last time I used it, creaking underfoot like it might give way entirely. I didn¡¯t trust it. Who knew if the next step would be my last?


    The stairwell felt colder the higher I climbed. My footsteps echoed louder than they should have, each step a hollow clap against the concrete. The darkness stretched deeper than before, thick and oppressive, the pale glow from my phone barely enough to cut through it.


    By the time I reached the fifth floor, the silence felt alive.


    The lobbies were a hundred times scarier than they¡¯d been just hours earlier. The scattered chairs and upturned desks seemed positioned deliberately, like some forgotten crime scene. Each classroom door loomed half-open, and the deeper shadows inside twisted into impossible shapes.


    I felt watched.


    Every glance toward those yawning doorways sent my pulse racing, the shadows almost moving¡ªstretching¡ªlike figures straight out of the horror movies I used to binge on Netflix. My mind played tricks, painting outlines of pale faces and hollow eyes peering out from the void.


    I forced my legs to move faster, my shoes scuffing noisily as I trudged down the hall, deliberately making more sound just to drown out the silence pressing in around me. The urge to run clawed at my chest, but I clenched my teeth. No, I had to do this. For Chevonne. For Finlay.


    Survival came first. Fear could wait.


    The faculty office was near the far end. I yanked open the door, its rusty hinges screaming loud enough to make me flinch.


    Using my phone¡¯s flickering screen light, I hurried to the desk¡ªmy desk. Dust had gathered thickly, coating the papers and pens I¡¯d left behind.


    I dropped to my knees and yanked open the drawer beneath it, the wood sticking slightly as if resisting me. My fingers fumbled through the contents, brushing past old lesson plans, receipts, and forgotten scraps of paper.


    Then, my hand found something brittle and soft.


    Cigarette packs. Rotten. Crumbling.


    And beneath them was a small rectangular object, smooth and parakeet-green.


    A lighter.


    I exhaled, clutching it tightly as relief washed over me.


    The Rubik¡¯s cube caught my eye next, half-buried among the clutter. It wasn¡¯t mine. I knew that cube.


    It had once belonged to Rex. I¡¯d confiscated it during one of my classes after he kept fiddling with it instead of paying attention. He had always been too relaxed when I was teaching, treating my lessons like background noise, convinced he could coast by.


    I¡¯d taken more than just the Rubik¡¯s cube from him over the months¡ªsnatching distractions during classes, even at his house during the rare times I visited. Including this lighter.


    At least, this one bad habit might actually save us now.


    Without wasting another second, I shoved it into my pocket and dashed back to the fire exit, forcing myself not to glance at the darkened rooms I passed.


    Finally, a fire roared to life, crackling bright and fierce in the cold.


    The flames danced wildly, pushing back the shadows as warmth slowly returned to the area. Lucky Kid curled up beside it, his face bathed in the flickering orange light. He had drifted off almost immediately, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.


    Well, he was still a kid. The exhaustion must have caught up with him. It had been a long, brutal day.


    Earlier, before nightfall, we¡¯d managed to gather some fruits¡ªapples, oranges, and strange purple ones none of us recognized. Oddly enough, some didn¡¯t even belong here in Bantayan. A few had been so large and heavy we had to leave them behind, like the cocohair fruits. I didn¡¯t care what they were anymore; we were starving, and they were edible.


    And there was the stream. Clean water. At least, it seemed clean enough when thirst gnawed at us harder than caution.


    I wondered how long we¡¯d have to keep surviving like this.


    Would someone find us soon?


    Chevonne sat alone on a moss-covered slab of stone near the fire, staring into the flames. She nibbled on an apple, her face calm yet distant, lost somewhere far beyond this island.


    Even after our argument earlier, she still seemed¡­ calm. Whole. The way the firelight danced on her features made my stomach twist with guilt.


    I forced myself to sit beside her. Close, but not too close.


    The woody scent of burning branches filled the air as I drew a shaky breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I murmured, my voice barely above the crackle of the fire, ¡°for what I said back on the rooftop. I was just¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she cut me off gently, her tone softer than I expected. ¡°I understand.¡±


    Maybe she had been expecting my apology all along.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I searched for words, desperate to shift the conversation and rebuild the trust I felt cracking between us. ¡°How can Lucky Kid sleep so soundly¡­ with everything going on? I wish I could do that.¡±


    She smiled faintly, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. ¡°Sometimes, being innocent makes you fearless. Though that kind of fearlessness can be scary in its own way.¡±


    I nodded, glancing toward Lucky Kid¡¯s peaceful face. The flames popped, sending tiny embers spiraling upward.


    I hesitated then asked quietly, ¡°And you? Don¡¯t you think all of this feels¡­ wrong?¡±


    Chevonne turned to face me fully.


    ¡°I told you, Josh,¡± she said, her voice firm but not unkind. ¡°In due time. If you¡¯re trying to make me spill the beans, you better stop.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just th¡ª¡± I broke off, shaking my head. ¡°Again, I¡¯m sorry. I just... I just find everything here so surreal. It¡¯s like I¡¯m dreaming.¡±


    Chevonne tilted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on the firelight reflecting off the damp stones around us. For a moment, it looked like she was searching for the right words. Then, she said, ¡°I wonder if this is what dreaming really feels like. I¡¯ve heard people say you can do anything in a dream since you¡¯re supposed to control it, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a half-truth, I think,¡± I replied thoughtfully. ¡°I mean, I can sometimes control my dreams. But mostly? They¡¯re random. Weird. If dreams were always perfect, I¡¯d probably sleep all day long just to stay in them. Who wouldn¡¯t want that kind of escape?¡±


    Chevonne shook her head, a small smile forming as she hugged her knees closer to her chest. ¡°But wouldn¡¯t living a predictable life get boring? I think it¡¯s more meaningful when you don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen next. It¡¯s like... cooking dinner. You won¡¯t know how it¡¯ll turn out until you¡¯ve actually tasted it.¡±


    I blinked, trying to process what she had just compared life to. Of all things, it was cooking. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying life¡¯s like... questionable cooking? Are you trying to tell me you¡¯re bad at it?¡±


    Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. The firelight made it even more noticeable. She quickly averted her gaze, scowling playfully. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s rude! Well, fine, yes... I¡¯m not great at it. But it¡¯s no laughing matter. I¡¯ve been practicing, you know. One day, I¡¯ll get better.¡±


    She looked so earnest and determined despite the embarrassment that I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle again. ¡°Sorry, sorry. I just couldn¡¯t help it.¡± My grin lingered before my next words slipped out¡ªtoo bold, too unfiltered. ¡°How about you cook for me once we get back home?¡±


    The moment the words left my mouth, heat crawled up my neck.


    Chevonne blinked, then she narrowed her eyes at me, her expression hardening into an icy stare so intense it could have frozen the flames between us.


    I swallowed, already preparing to backpedal, but then she... sighed.


    Her shoulders relaxed as she dropped her gaze back to the fire, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw the corner of her lips twitch.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, her voice softer this time. ¡°Once we get back home, I¡¯ll cook for you.¡±


    I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. ¡°Yeah... Once we get back home.¡±


    The words lingered in the cold air as if we were both clinging to the promise they held.


    A fragile silence settled between us, broken only by the fire¡¯s steady crackling and the occasional whisper of wind rustling through the trees beyond the broken walls. Sparks danced upward, glowing embers drifting into the star-speckled sky above.


    I wanted to freeze this moment¡ªthe calm, the peace, and just the two of us sitting here together under the heavens.


    But reality pressed in too heavily.


    I shifted, staring deeper into the flames as thoughts I¡¯d been burying finally surfaced. The quiet had a way of forcing honesty out of me.


    ¡°You know...¡± I began, my voice softer now, ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about my power lately.¡±


    Her gaze lifted from the fire, curious. ¡°Your power?¡±


    I nodded, hesitant but unable to hold back anymore. ¡°Yeah... I keep wondering if it¡¯s really real, or if I¡¯ve just imagined it all. But after everything we¡¯ve been through¡ªthe seaquake, getting stranded here¡ª¡± I gestured vaguely at the island around us. ¡°It makes me think... What if it is possible? I mean, if this isn¡¯t a dream, then maybe my power isn¡¯t either, right?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Chevonne didn¡¯t answer right away. She just watched me as though weighing her words carefully.


    ¡°You might be right,¡± she said finally, but there was a careful neutrality to her voice, like she didn¡¯t want to push too far.


    I met her eyes. ¡°What do you think? Do you believe it¡¯s real?¡±


    A beat passed. The fire popped loudly, and she still held back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted at last, her voice quieter now. Then, as if an idea struck, she added, ¡°Why don¡¯t you try it again? Right now. Think about something you really want to happen.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Here? Now?¡±


    She nodded, her gaze steady.


    For a woman like her, I would do anything she asked.


    Without another word, I stood, brushing dirt from my palms as I squared my stance.


    I closed my eyes. The darkness behind my eyelids felt heavier than before, pressing inward like the weight of the night itself. My fists clenched at my sides as I focused¡ªharder than I ever had before¡ªletting my mind center on a single, clear desire.


    Something simple.


    Something impossible.


    The fire crackled louder.


    I took a deep breath, and for a heartbeat, I believed.


    I imagined her kissing me¡ªright here, right now.


    I held onto the thought, feeling the tension coil tighter in my chest. Seconds passed. My heart hammered.


    Gradually, I opened one eye just a sliver, hoping for some impossible sign that my so-called power had worked.


    But there she was, still sitting on the moss-covered slab of stone, staring at me with a mix of curiosity and... expectation?


    Of course, nothing happened.


    I exhaled sharply, deflated, and sank back onto a brittle pile of dried twigs, ready to admit defeat and tell her it had failed. I didn¡¯t even get the words out before she jolted to her feet.


    Her sudden movement made me flinch.


    Blushing, cheeks as red as the fire¡¯s glow, she crossed the short distance between us.


    She knelt beside me, placing both hands carefully on the twigs and branches at my sides, closing the space between us.


    The world shrank. The fire, the rustling leaves, even the cold seemed to dissolve into the background as she leaned closer.


    Her breath brushed my face, warm and shallow, her eyes hooded with an intensity I hadn¡¯t seen before.


    What was happening?


    Was this¡ª?


    I liked her. God, I liked her. But this¡­ This was sudden. Too sudden.


    My pulse raced as she leaned in further, her face mere inches from mine. The heat from her breath sent shivers down my spine.


    I should¡¯ve been thrilled. I should¡¯ve been ready. But instead, I tensed, recoiling slightly, unsure if this was really happening or if my imagination was spiraling out of control.


    And then, just when our lips were dangerously close, she froze.


    Blinking rapidly, her expression shifted from dreamy to... confused? It was like she¡¯d just woken from a trance.


    Her gaze snapped toward the shadows surrounding us, scanning the darkness beyond the campfire. She backed away, dazed, pressing a hand to her forehead as if trying to piece something together.


    What was that?


    Then, she turned abruptly toward Lucky Kid; he was still curled up nearby and fast asleep.


    ¡°Did you... Did you just save me?¡± she whispered to the kid, her voice trembling.


    I blinked. ¡°Save you? What do you mean?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. Lucky Kid remained motionless, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. If he had done anything, it certainly wasn¡¯t obvious.


    Chevonne returned to me, slower this time, her face pale with realization.


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry,¡± she stammered, the boldness from moments ago completely gone. ¡°That... That might¡¯ve been weird of me.¡±


    Her voice sounded smaller now, like she was fighting off embarrassment.


    ¡°N-no! It¡¯s¡ª¡± My words caught. I ran a hand through my hair, searching for the right thing to say. ¡°Actually, I¡ªuh... I imagined something, too.¡±


    She blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°You... imagined what, exactly?¡±


    Suddenly, the truth felt way too humiliating to admit.


    I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. ¡°I... I imagined a shooting star. Yeah. Thought maybe if my power worked, we¡¯d see one right now.¡±


    Her gaze drifted toward the starry sky where the constellations remained calm and undisturbed. Not a single shooting star passed.


    ¡°I guess I failed,¡± I added quietly, lowering my head. ¡°Sorry if you were expecting something more dramatic.¡±


    Chevonne shook her head, forcing a smile, though her eyes didn¡¯t quite match it. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m the one who should be sorry... for pressuring you. And... could you just... forget what almost happened earlier?¡±


    Yeah.


    As if I could ever forget that.


    I could try¡ªcould shove the memory into a locked box in the furthest corner of my mind¡ªbut it would come back. It would keep resurfacing. Probably forever.


    Because how could I forget the way she looked at me? Or the way my heart nearly exploded?


    But... Had it worked? My power?


    Or was it just coincidence?


    The silence stretched on, awkward and heavy. Only the crackling fire filled the void.


    I was about to break the tension and say anything that would ease the weight pressing on my chest when¡ª


    Thud.


    The sound echoed from outside.


    It was a deep, hollow impact, followed by another. Then another.


    Louder.


    Closer.


    The ground vibrated beneath us as the rhythmic pounding intensified. It was as if something massive was moving toward our camp with unnatural speed.


    Chevonne stiffened.


    Lucky Kid jerked awake, his small frame trembling as he scrambled toward her, clutching her arm with wide, frightened eyes.


    ¡°Cher... What¡¯s that?¡± he whispered, his voice quivering.


    But there was something off about his fear. The way his hands shook felt exaggerated, like he was overacting a little.


    Chevonne barely reacted. She didn¡¯t hug him or soothe him. She just placed a steady hand on his shoulder, her voice oddly calm as she replied, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Stay here with me.¡±


    That was it. No fear. No urgency.


    It was like she knew something.


    And suddenly, something in me snapped.


    I hadn¡¯t done anything useful since we got stranded here. Hadn¡¯t protected her or Lucky Kid from any real danger. Not once.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± I ordered, rising to my feet and clenching my fists. ¡°I¡¯ll check it out.¡±


    Chevonne opened her mouth to protest, but I was already moving.


    The pounding noise continued, louder now, echoing off the ruins around us.


    I crossed the threshold of the crumbling entrance, scanning the darkness beyond the fire¡¯s reach with my heart pounding. The air felt heavier, charged with something unnatural.


    The sound stopped. Just like that.


    The night stretched, quiet and still. But I could feel it. Something was out there watching us.


    I struggled to piece together what was happening.


    The thuds¡ªdeep, rhythmic¡ªhad to be footsteps. But if they were footsteps, then whatever was making them had to be enormous. No, not just enormous¡ªgigantic. Colossal. Gargantuan. I cycled through every word I knew for big, but none of them felt quite right. None of them matched the sheer weight those sounds carried as if the earth itself groaned under their pressure.


    The bones we found earlier flashed in my mind¡ªbleached, broken remains scattered in the ruins.


    What kind of predator left those behind?


    I pressed my back against a crumbling support post, steadying my breathing as I peeked through a gaping hole in the damaged wall.


    The damp, earthy scent of moss hit my nose. It was sharp and almost bitter. Or was it moss? There was something else mixed in, something raw and unfamiliar that I couldn¡¯t name.


    Beyond the torn wall, shadows layered over more shadows, but the faint moonlight and scattered starlight offered just enough glow to confirm one thing: It was gone.


    Or at least, I thought it was.


    I returned to the others, keeping my voice steady despite the way my pulse hammered. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything. Whatever it was... It¡¯s gone.¡±


    Chevonne and Lucky Kid exhaled almost in sync, their bodies visibly relaxing. Lucky Kid sagged back against the mossy slab, his eyelids drooping.


    Thud.


    It was a single, distant impact. Fainter.


    Thud... thud...


    It was back.


    And this time, it was inside the school grounds.


    The sound reminded me of someone sneaking into a sibling¡¯s room mid-prank¡ªslow, deliberate steps trying not to wake anyone.


    We exchanged tense glances. No words were needed.


    Without hesitation, we scrambled to snuff out the fire. Mud and loose soil flew as we shoveled it onto the flames, stomping out the embers, silencing the crackling wood.


    Darkness swallowed us whole.


    We huddled together, pressing close. The air felt thicker and heavier with every breath.


    I wasn¡¯t proud to admit it, but when I clasped my hands together to pray, I wasn¡¯t just asking for Chevonne¡¯s safety¡ªI prayed for Lucky Kid, too.


    The thuds had stopped again.


    There was silence once more. Only our ragged breaths filled the void.


    Minutes passed. Then more.


    No movement.


    No sound.


    Nothing.


    But the cold settled in, seeping through our damp clothes and into our bones. My jaw trembled with the chill. I¡¯d never experienced a night this bitter.


    ¡°We need to find shelter,¡± Chevonne whispered, her voice hushed but firm.


    I nodded, guiding them toward the stairwell.


    We searched in near silence, fingers stiff as we rifled through the cluttered desks and cabinets on the fifth-floor faculty room, hoping for anything that could warm us¡ªblankets, clothes, even just fabric to drape over our shoulders.


    Finlay found a few odd items¡ªa globe with half the continents faded, a broken desk lamp¡ªbut nothing practical for surviving the freezing night.


    Chevonne, however, uncovered a small stash of confiscated lighters, likely taken from students over the years.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you get those?¡± I whispered.


    She pointed toward teacher Samuel¡¯s desk, a drawer half-open with more scattered junk inside.


    ¡°Guess he didn¡¯t trust his students much,¡± I muttered, forcing a smile I didn¡¯t feel.


    We gathered whatever burnable scraps we could find¡ªrandom papers, old test sheets, some dried-up lesson planners¡ªand formed a makeshift fire pile in the center of the room.


    Chevonne knelt, flicking the wheel of one lighter. A flame sparked to life.


    But then everything went black.


    The firelight was the only thing left.


    The moonlight vanished.


    I knew it wasn¡¯t clouds. The darkness wasn¡¯t natural¡ªit was thicker than night, smothering, pressing in from every side.


    The floor trembled under me. Something massive was moving outside.


    I stepped toward the window, my breath tight in my chest. The glass was pitch-black as if someone had dropped a tarp over it.


    But it wasn¡¯t a tarp.


    I raised my phone, turning on the screen¡¯s light.


    And then¡ªI dropped it.


    The dim glow had revealed something so grotesque and impossible.


    An eyeball.


    A massive, unblinking eye filled the entire window frame, staring back at me.


    The pale iris twitched, its black pupil jittering as if trying to focus. Blood vessels spread across its glossy surface, so detailed I could see the veins shift beneath the lens.


    It was nearly twice my size.


    The fire crackled louder, the flames suddenly licking higher as the lighter fell from Chevonne¡¯s trembling hand and landed on the burnable pile.


    The fire roared to life, illuminating the entire floor.


    And the eye squinted, reacting to the light.


    But it didn¡¯t retreat.


    It recovered.


    It locked on to us.


    We bolted down the fire exit, terror driving every step.


    We barely made it to the fourth floor when the entire fifth floor ripped away from the building with a thunderous crack. The tremor shook the walls, and from above came the sound of collapsing rubble¡ªwalls caving in, steel screeching, glass shattering.


    The entire structure felt like it was seconds from total collapse.


    We raced faster, legs burning, hearts pounding, as another deafening whack sounded above us. Dust trickled down, the ceiling groaning. I was certain that the fourth floor had just been torn away, too.


    Even as panic clawed at me, I risked a glance at Chevonne and Lucky Kid. Neither was crying. Neither even looked shocked.


    Their faces were set, serious, and focused on survival.


    I, however, felt one heartbeat away from losing it. I was the only one on the verge of pissing my pants.


    When we hit the ground floor, Chevonne spun around and, without warning, grabbed Lucky Kid by the collar, yanking him off his feet.


    ¡°Chevonne! What¡ª¡± I stammered, frozen in place.


    Lucky Kid didn¡¯t even struggle. He just averted his eyes, his face settling into something like... guilt? He wore a tight, awkward grimace, as if he¡¯d been caught red-handed.


    Chevonne¡¯s grip tightened, her knuckles white. Her voice dropped, cold and dangerous. ¡°I know who you really are.¡±


    What?


    ¡°I was supposed to play along and pretend I didn¡¯t know because you would have run if you realized. But I¡¯m out of options. You¡¯re the only one who can save us right now. If you don¡¯t want to die, help us.¡±


    The word ¡°die¡± coming out of Chevonne¡¯s mouth felt surreal.


    I didn¡¯t understand.


    Chevonne, the same girl who had protected Lucky Kid at the shore, was now close to strangling him.


    ¡°Chevonne, stop! What are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt, Josh.¡± Her voice sliced through me. She never even looked at me, her glare pinned entirely on Lucky Kid. ¡°Stay where you are.¡±


    This... This wasn¡¯t the Chevonne I knew.


    Another boom shook the building, and the roof caved partially above us. Moonlight poured in through the widening hole, but something massive blocked the light.


    A shadow.


    A silhouette.


    It loomed high, impossibly tall, its shape vaguely humanoid. The faint outline of shoulders, arms, and a massive head confirmed my worst fear.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I breathed, my voice barely audible. ¡°It¡¯s a giant.¡±


    The thing stood as tall as the building itself, its movements slow but deliberate. I couldn¡¯t make out its details, but the way it moved sent shivers through me. It wasn¡¯t just big¡ªit was deliberate, terrifyingly alive.


    ¡°Do it now!¡± Chevonne¡¯s voice rose, echoing off the ruined walls and startling me out of my daze.


    Lucky Kid sighed, long and exaggerated, like a child bored with a chore. He tapped her hands.


    ¡°Let go,¡± he said calmly.


    She did.


    I thought she was making a mistake. What if Lucky Kid didn¡¯t help? What if he ran or froze?


    But I was wrong.


    The boy I thought I knew vanished in an instant.


    Lucky Kid lowered into a stance, his legs spread and firm, arms raised with open palms. His face was unrecognizable¡ªserious, intense, and devoid of his usual childish mischief.


    It was like watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon, except the transformation wasn¡¯t delicate. It was abrupt, powerful, and almost frightening.


    Above us, the giant shifted, raising its enormous foot. Dust swirled upward, the force of the movement pulling air from my lungs.


    ¡°Oh, God,¡± I muttered, panic overtaking me as I prepared to grab Chevonne and Lucky Kid, hoping to drag them out of the stomp¡¯s path.


    Chevonne stopped me, placing a steady hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± she said softly. ¡°We¡¯ll be safe. Remember when I said you¡¯d learn everything in due time? I didn¡¯t think it would happen this soon.¡±


    Before I could respond, a burst of amber light erupted from Lucky Kid¡¯s temple, expanding outward in a radiant dome. It spread over the building¡¯s perimeter, casting everything in a golden glow. The dome arched upward, encasing the giant within its boundary.


    We stood inside a shimmering force field.


    ¡°What the¡ªdid he just¡ª¡± My words stumbled out as my brain scrambled to comprehend.


    Lucky Kid¡¯s hands snapped shut as if grabbing something invisible.


    The giant froze, its massive frame shuddering before it dissolved into a fine mist, scattering in the wind.


    The only thing left of it was a single object that dropped to the ground with a sickening squelch, landing in a patch of grass north of us.


    Curiosity overtook my fear, and I rushed toward it.


    It was an eyeball.


    I recoiled, kicking it aside and stumbling back, bile rising in my throat. I scrambled to my feet and hurried back to the others.


    ¡°What the fudge was that?¡± I gasped. ¡°A freaking eyeball fell from its head! And who the hell are you, Lucky Kid? No, who are you, Finlay?¡±


    Chevonne stepped between us, smirking. ¡°He¡¯s a silencer. That monster was a product of thought, and he erased it.¡±


    ¡°What are you even talking about?¡±


    Chevonne sighed, her tone matter-of-fact, as if she were explaining basic math. ¡°It¡¯s too much to explain now. But Finlay¡¯s a silencer. I¡¯m a linker. And you, Josh... You¡¯re also a thinker.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Remember what you told me earlier? About what you imagined? That¡¯s a sign of pothink. Based on what you described, you might even be a morpher.¡±


    Her words hung in the air. I could only blink, utterly dumbfounded.

 Chapter 12 – The Lost Group

    Red. Blue. Yellow.


    After deciding to split the crowd into three groups for different tasks, I trudged back to my tent and collapsed onto the makeshift bed, the thin fabric barely softening the impact.


    I couldn¡¯t believe any of this was real.


    Everything felt wrong. Traumatizing. Unreal.


    Was it really too much to ask God just to let me meet someone romantically?


    I hadn¡¯t signed up for this nightmare.


    The whole reason I even agreed to join this retreat was because I¡¯d hoped¡ªexpected, really¡ªto meet someone. Maybe have a little fun. I wanted, just once, to feel what it was like to be held by a guy. I wasn¡¯t picky. Handsome or not didn¡¯t matter as long as he was, well, a he. That was the only thing I¡¯d been asking for.


    I was so desperate. And instead? This.


    I shivered, and I wrapped my arms around myself. But I knew it wasn¡¯t from the cold. I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the captain¡¯s cabin.


    The body. The blood. The fact that there had been no head.


    It was the first dead body I¡¯d ever seen, and it would haunt me forever.


    Suddenly, Vhina barged in, practically diving onto the bed beside me. Not that you could knock on a tent.


    ¡°Elly, how are you feeling?¡± she asked softly.


    I appreciated her asking. ¡°I¡¯d be lying if I said I was fine. But I¡¯m... not as shaken as earlier. However, it¡¯s still¡ª¡± I exhaled shakily. ¡°It¡¯s still sticking with me. I can¡¯t stop seeing it.¡±


    Vhina stayed quiet for a long moment, letting me sit with it.


    Finally, she stood, grabbed my hydro flask from the pile of clothes beside the bed, and took a long swig. Her expression turned serious.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the blue team,¡± she reported.


    I blinked up at her, staring at the tent ceiling as I processed that.


    Blue team. Right.


    If I remembered correctly, our task was to go inland and search for any locals¡ªor anything useful. But that wasn¡¯t the real mission.


    Teacher Mary had called it ¡°Finding the Lost Group¡± mission.


    Chevonne. Josh. The students. And everyone else.


    Suddenly, the lingering haze of shock burned off, and I pushed myself upright, locking eyes with Vhina. ¡°When do we leave?¡±


    ¡°Later,¡± she said. ¡°The others are still getting ready.¡±


    ¡°When you said we, did you mean Ritchelle and Alyssa, too?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Them, plus three from the barge crew. Teacher Norkie and teacher Selena are coming as well.¡±


    Relief swept over me like a sudden breath of air, my skin prickling with goosebumps. At least they weren¡¯t sending us out there completely unprotected.


    Still, the mission was practically suicidal.


    I frowned. ¡°Why not just send the men? It makes more sense, doesn¡¯t it? Why send us when they could¡ª¡±


    ¡°They were going to send all the crew at first,¡± Vhina cut in, her voice grim. ¡°But I don¡¯t think teacher Mary trusts everyone here, especially the crew. That¡¯s why she insisted some of us come along.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Why us, though?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°It seems like we¡¯re the ones she trusts most.¡±


    I sometimes couldn¡¯t figure out what teacher Mary was thinking. But in this situation, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to trust her. She was the most experienced among us when it came to handling crises¡ªpossibly more so than anyone else in the group. Trusting the rest of the crowd, even Dr. Shawn, seemed far too risky.


    Sure, he was handsome¡ªruggedly so, with that effortless charm¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t bring myself to trust him. I had watched enough movies to know how guys like him often turned out: the too-good-to-be-true ones who betrayed everyone at the worst moment. His polished demeanor felt suspicious, and I couldn¡¯t shake the thought that his kindness might be hiding something darker. I hoped I was wrong.


    Alyssa and Ritchelle entered the tent, each lugging a salvaged backpack from the barge.


    ¡°Hey. How¡¯re you holding up?¡± Alyssa asked, her voice a mix of concern and forced cheer.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, eyeing the bags. ¡°What¡¯s with those?¡±


    ¡°Oh, these?¡± She unzipped one to show it was empty. ¡°We figured we¡¯d need something to stash useful stuff on the trip. Makes sense, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s smart,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Ritchelle asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t you bringing anything?¡±


    I held up my hydro flask. ¡°Just this. Trust me, one of the biggest enemies of a survivalist is thirst. You all should pack water bottles, too.¡±


    They nodded but didn¡¯t seem too concerned. I doubted they¡¯d follow through.


    Teacher Mary entered abruptly, her expression brisk and unreadable, and motioned for the others to leave. Without a word, they ducked out, leaving the two of us alone. There was something unspoken between us now¡ªa connection forged in the chaos, perhaps from what had happened with the captain. It was strange to feel so aligned with someone I barely interacted with before this.


    She handed me something small, and I snatched it reflexively. It was my lucky charm. It survived the wreckage. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at my reaction, but if she noticed, she didn¡¯t show it. Instead, she sat beside me on the bed and wrapped one arm around my shoulders in a comforting semi-hug.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± she whispered.


    It was such a simple phrase, but the way she said it carried weight. Out of context, someone might have mistaken it for a warning or even a threat. But after knowing her even just a little bit, it felt like genuine care.


    Without another word, she stood and left the tent. I stared after her, unexpectedly grateful. Teacher Mary wasn¡¯t someone I expected to feel close to, but this experience shifted my perspective. If we got out of this alive, I wouldn¡¯t be afraid of her anymore¡ªnot at school, not anywhere.


    Outside, teacher Selena and teacher Norkie stood with three crew members from the barge. They were deep in conversation, occasionally glancing toward the tent as if waiting for us. When the four of us emerged, they waved enthusiastically. Teacher Norkie gave us a quick nod¡ªa silent signal that it was time to move.


    ¡°Let me introduce the rest of the group,¡± teacher Norkie said, gesturing toward the crew. ¡°This is Mike.¡±


    Mike gave us a weak smile. His pale, gaunt appearance reminded me of Desmond Doss from that war movie Molly and I watched last week. He seemed fragile, but there was something trustworthy about his demeanor. I hoped he wouldn¡¯t disappoint.


    ¡°And these two are Jesson and Matt,¡± teacher Norkie continued, motioning to the other men.


    Jesson and Matt nodded, their expressions serious but approachable.


    ¡°Hi, teachers,¡± the tall, chubby one, who I guessed was Jesson, said and gave us a wave and a wink. Then, he added some cringe-worthy lines I¡¯d rather forget.


    ¡°Hey,¡± the shortest of the three¡ªstill taller than me, but only by a bit¡ªscoffed, barely sparing us a glance.


    What a rude guy. Matt. I¡¯d sure as hell remember his name.


    We hadn¡¯t been walking long when the jungle closed in, the thick, damp grass clinging to our legs and slowing our steps. The air smelled of wet earth, and the ground squelched with every move, making it hard to keep balance.


    Ritchelle was the first to run into trouble. She stepped forward then gasped as the ground swallowed her foot up to her shin. The earth was wet and sticky, dragging her lower with each passing second.


    ¡°Help! I¡ªI think it¡¯s quicksand!¡± she stammered, sinking deeper.


    Jesson, despite his bulky frame, moved fast. He lunged and grabbed her arm, yanking hard enough to pull her free with a loud, muddy slurp. She stumbled back, panting but safe.


    You¡¯d never expect someone who looked so unreliable to be the one to step up like that.


    After nearly an hour of trekking through the oppressive heat, Matt started complaining. No surprise there.


    ¡°What kind of jungle is this? I¡¯ve been a seafarer in Kulbahinam for years, but I¡¯ve never seen plants this thick or this weird on any island up north.¡± He swatted at a vine that dangled too close.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m with ya, bro. Remember when we hit Bantayan last month? We¡¯ve been to a lot of places, but this¡ª¡± Jesson gestured around dramatically. ¡°This is a whole different level.¡±


    He flashed a grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood. But his next comment killed the effect. ¡°Though, I gotta say, those bars were full of chicks. Not like this place.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. Typical. He struck me as a self-proclaimed ladies¡¯ man who probably got rejected more often than not.


    I shook my head, annoyed at myself for being so judgmental. Maybe I was just stressed.


    ¡°Told you¡ª¡± Mike¡¯s voice cut through the noise. It was the first time he had spoken since we left. His voice was deep¡ªfar deeper than I expected from someone so thin and almost skeletal. ¡°This might not even be Bantayan at all.¡±


    Teacher Norkie nodded, scanning the foliage. ¡°There¡¯s something strange here. The plants look off. Hopefully, we can figure out where we really are soon.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what about those?¡± Teacher Selena pointed to our left where a cluster of large, brightly colored butterflies hovered around a strange-looking flower. Its petals curled inward like claws, and the insects seemed oddly drawn to its deep purple core.


    Matt marched over without a second thought.


    ¡°Careful,¡± teacher Norkie started, but Matt already had his hand out.


    He snatched one of the creatures mid-air, crushing it in his fist. Purple liquid oozed between his fingers as the insect twitched, lifeless.


    Alyssa let out a sharp gasp, practically screeching. The rest of us recoiled, horrified by the sudden brutality.


    ¡°These aren¡¯t butterflies,¡± Matt declared, wiping his palm on his pants. ¡°They¡¯re mosquitoes. Look closer.¡±


    I squinted. Now that he mentioned it, the creature did resemble a mosquito¡ªjust¡­ wrong. Its wings were too large, patterned like a butterfly¡¯s but veined unnaturally thick. Its body was segmented and bloated, its legs oddly jointed. It was as if nature had taken both insects and merged them into something unrecognizable.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± teacher Selena winced, slapping her neck. When she pulled her hand away, a small welt had formed, already red and inflamed.


    We all stepped back instinctively, tension crackling between us.


    ¡°Guys? What¡ªwhat¡¯s wrong?¡± her voice wavered.


    ¡°Selena, stay calm,¡± teacher Norkie said, carefully measured. ¡°Look at your arms.¡±


    She glanced down.


    The reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and a scream tore from her throat as more rashes erupted across her skin, blooming in angry red patches. She clawed at her arms, her neck¡ªeverywhere¡ªgasping about the unbearable itch.


    ¡°We need to get her back to camp. Now,¡± Jesson said, his voice tight with worry.


    ¡°We¡¯ve come too far already,¡± Mike countered. ¡°If we all turn back, this whole trip will be pointless. Someone should take her while the rest keep going.¡±


    Before anyone could argue, Mike stepped forward and gently hooked Selena¡¯s arm over his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. You all press on.¡±


    Teacher Selena blinked up at teacher Norkie, her face pale and pleading.


    He hesitated at first then relented with a sigh. ¡°Alright. Be careful. Take the safest path back.¡±


    Mike nodded and started guiding teacher Selena away through the thick undergrowth, her steps wobbly but determined.


    The rest of us watched in uneasy silence as they disappeared into the trees.


    *****


    Teacher Norkie led the way as we trudged through even denser foliage than before. The undergrowth tangled around our ankles, damp grass soaking our shoes with each step. The air felt heavier, pressing down as we moved deeper into the unfamiliar jungle.


    We, girls, passed around my hydro flask in turns, taking careful sips to conserve the water. We had no idea when we¡¯d find a clean stream or a potable water source. Or better yet, some locals willing to help.


    If only they had brought water bottles, too.


    Vhina suddenly slumped to the ground, clutching her knees as she panted. Her breathing turned shallow, almost wheezing.


    ¡°Can we rest? Just for a minute?¡± she asked, her voice weak.


    Teacher Norkie turned, already nodding in agreement when Matt cut in.


    ¡°Woman, we¡¯ll waste too much time stopping now. Have Jesson carry you if you can¡¯t keep up.¡±


    His words hit like a slap.


    ¡°Hey! Who do you think you are, talking like that?¡± Alyssa snapped before I could. She shot forward, fists clenched at her sides.


    Matt just shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m being practical.¡±


    ¡°Practical? You sound heartless! It¡¯s like you don¡¯t care what happens to anyone but yourself! Not everyone has your monstrous stamina.¡±


    ¡°Not my fault, is it? If you knew she was weak, you should¡¯ve left her at camp. Dead weight isn¡¯t going to help this mission.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, that¡¯s enough.¡± I stepped in, my blood boiling. ¡°You¡¯re being a total jerk.¡±


    The tension thickened. Voices clashed as Matt doubled down, insisting Jesson should carry Vhina, while we fired back about how cruel and reckless he was acting. I was mid-sentence when teacher Norkie finally stepped between us, his calm but firm presence silencing the argument.


    ¡°Matt, we¡¯re stopping. Five minutes.¡± His voice was calm but steel-edged. ¡°Continuing when someone¡¯s on the verge of exhaustion is more dangerous than resting a moment.¡±


    Matt scowled, not backing down. ¡°You should¡¯ve told that supervisor of yours not to drag these women along. They¡¯re treating this like a field trip.¡±


    ¡°Watch your mouth,¡± teacher Norkie¡¯s voice dropped. ¡°You don¡¯t talk about my co-teachers like that. You wouldn¡¯t like what happens if you get on my nerves.¡±


    The air crackled with tension. Matt squared his shoulders and locked eyes with teacher Norkie in a silent challenge.


    It was like watching a Mexican standoff.


    Teacher Norkie, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, looked like someone who could have stepped out of a WWE match. His bald head glistened under the filtered light, every muscle flexed but controlled. On the contrary, Matt was very small. There was a clear difference, and he seemed to realize it. A sheen of sweat broke across his forehead.


    If I were him, I¡¯d have backed off ages ago.


    Vhina shifted closer to me and whispered, ¡°Are they gonna fight?¡±


    I kept my eyes on them. ¡°Don¡¯t even think that. Teacher Norkie¡¯s a professional. He¡¯ll handle this.¡±


    Ritchelle crawled over on my other side. ¡°Hey, uh¡­ The atmosphere is getting tense.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I whispered back. ¡°Let¡¯s just¡­ wait it out.¡±


    Finally, Matt¡¯s glare wavered. His jaw tightened, then he spun around with a frustrated grunt and dropped onto a grassy mound.


    ¡°Five minutes. Not a second more,¡± he muttered, his back to us.


    ¡°Thank you, Matt,¡± teacher Norkie said, his voice steady but with a pointed calmness that only made Matt bristle more.


    Silence fell.


    No one spoke, not even us, afraid that saying the wrong thing might set Matt off again. I checked my hydro flask and felt my stomach sink¡ªit was almost empty, maybe good for a single sip.


    I looked between my friends, and we came to the same unspoken agreement. Vhina needed it most.


    I crouched to offer her the last of the water, but the world spun.


    My head felt like it turned a full circle, dizziness making the trees blur. My knees buckled, and the ground seemed to rush up.


    But I never hit it.


    Jesson caught me by the waist just in time, steadying me with a firm grip.


    For a second¡ªno, a heartbeat¡ªeverything froze.


    If this were a Korean drama, there¡¯d be flower petals fluttering around us. His face was way too close, his breath ghosting across my cheek.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked in a low, husky voice.


    God, no. Please. Not him.


    His breath was warm but¡ªugh¡ªcarried the unmistakable stench of garlic. I almost gagged.


    Still, something about it felt¡­ familiar. Too familiar.


    I stared at his face, searching. His smile, that odd tilt of his lips¡ª


    And then it hit me.


    The missing teeth.


    That grin.


    It was him. The guy from high school.


    ¡°Ri¡ªRico?¡± I stammered, barely loud enough for him to hear.


    His smile shifted slightly but enough to tell me he¡¯d heard.


    ¡°How¡¯d you know my second name?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.


    My heart raced. ¡°Oh my God, it¡¯s you! Rico!¡±


    The puzzle pieces snapped together, and I saw the same realization dawn on his face. His wide eyes, the soft, stunned expression¡ªthey all clicked. The nostalgia washed over me, filling the moment with a strange, bittersweet warmth. So, it was really him. Rico.


    The same Rico I once had a crush on.


    ¡°Look at you!¡± I teased, shaking off the shock. ¡°How¡¯d you end up this... round?¡±


    He chuckled, patting his stomach. ¡°Hey, I never planned to be this cuddly, okay? But you¡ªwow, you¡¯re just as beautiful as before. What¡¯s your secret, Jelly?¡±


    ¡°Let me tell you, I wouldn¡¯t have recognized you if not for those cheesy pick-up lines and¡ªwell¡ªyour face practically hiding under all that baby fat.¡±


    ¡°Ouch. Way to hit a guy where it hurts,¡± he said, clutching his chest dramatically. Then, his voice softened. ¡°So... You¡¯re a teacher now?¡±


    ¡°And you a seafarer?¡±


    ¡°Life¡¯s weird, huh?¡±


    ¡°Sure is.¡±


    We both laughed, breaking the lingering tension in the air. Rico gently helped me to my feet, his hand warm as he steadied me.


    Our eyes met, and we shared a smile.


    Was this it? Was this the kind of romantic encounter I¡¯d dreamed of?


    He wasn¡¯t exactly handsome, not in the way you¡¯d expect, but something about him made my heart stutter. Maybe it was how he still made me feel like that awkward girl from high school¡ªlike the version of him standing here, even in his worn indigo coveralls, wasn¡¯t far from the mischievous boy who¡¯d once stolen my heart.


    ¡°Hey! What are you two doing back there?¡± Matt¡¯s sharp voice cut through the moment.


    ¡°Nothing. Just... catching up,¡± Rico replied, still smiling as he turned.


    Matt squinted at him. ¡°Wait, you two know each other?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Rico said, grinning. ¡°Back in high school. We were both in the student council.¡±


    Matt raised a skeptical brow. ¡°Huh. Never pegged you for a schoolboy, Jes. Always figured you were the type with corny pick-up lines for every girl in sight. Guess that explains the whole seafarer gig¡ªsailing from port to port, huh? Chasing... variety?¡±


    Rico¡¯s face went beet red. ¡°Dude, come on. Don¡¯t just say stuff like that!¡± He turned to me, clearly flustered. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ªuh¡ªnot entirely true, you know.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, and Rico joined in, though his embarrassment lingered in his nervous smile.


    Just as the mood lightened, teacher Norkie¡¯s voice cut through, tense and concerned. ¡°Where¡¯s teacher Alyssa?¡±


    Rico and Matt¡¯s heads snapped around. My stomach twisted as I scanned the area, heart pounding. Ritchelle, Vhina, and I shouted Alyssa¡¯s name¡ªonce, twice¡ªbut got no reply.


    ¡°Alyssa!¡±


    No response.


    ¡°Over here!¡± Ritchelle¡¯s voice trembled as she pointed through a break in the shrubs.


    We pushed through the tangled brush, and the ground suddenly dropped away beneath us.


    A cliff.


    It was nearly a ten-meter drop, the jagged rocks below half-hidden by the shadows. Rico scanned the area, his face hardening, while the rest of us called out again and again.


    ¡°Here!¡±


    Teacher Norkie¡¯s voice came from the far edge.


    We rushed over.


    He was standing near the cliff¡¯s edge, pale and still, pointing down.


    There¡ªjust beside him¡ªsat a pair of black shoes. They were neatly placed. They were perfectly aligned as if someone had taken them off before stepping inside a house.


    A sickening realization crept in, tightening my throat. My legs weakened. Ritchelle gasped, clutching Vhina¡¯s arm, both of them shaking.


    They were Alyssa¡¯s shoes.


    The truth felt like a crushing weight pressing on my chest. We knew. Yet we forced ourselves to look.


    I leaned forward, heart thundering in my ears. Even with my vision blurring from unshed tears, the scene below was unmistakable.


    A broken body lay twisted at the base of the cliff. Dark pool of blood spread beneath it.


    We screamed.


    We cried.


    It was Alyssa.

 Chapter 13 – The Carnage

    It was nearly nightfall. Some passengers and crew had begun gathering firewood from the woods, their movements blending into the deep hues of velvet and scarlet that painted the sky. The colors felt like the perfect canvas for the bloodshed about to unfold. They didn¡¯t know I was here¡ªthat we were here. They had no idea what was coming.


    This time, I would find the creator among them¡ªthe one father had failed to locate.


    I had recently been classified as a thinker, gauged by Master herself after I surpassed the standard ten percent brain capacity, reaching a remarkable fifty percent. She praised me, calling my abilities extraordinary, and it was my deepest pleasure to please her. If she were only younger, I would have married her without hesitation.


    I loved Master. No word could fully capture how deeply I was obsessed with her.


    There were three categories of thought abilities. Yet the mission carved into me since birth demanded the red margin. I embraced it.


    I was a burster.


    And this was what had happened on the barge.


    The memory played fresh in my mind¡ªthe moment I slipped into one of the crew cabins as the seaquake hit. I had faked panic, my voice trembling just enough to sound convincing when I begged the man inside for help. He smiled¡ªso sincere, so kind. It made everything more thrilling. He wasn¡¯t on my kill list, but the ache in my fingers, the unbearable need to burst something, had grown too much to resist.


    I whispered under my breath, sending a thought rippling from my temple, coating my skin in a deep crimson glow. The energy crackled along my flesh but remained close¡ªtight, small. That was the flaw of a burster. My power needed touch to work.


    The crewman¡¯s face shifted, his smile faltering as his eyes widened. Maybe he sensed it. Maybe he was a pothink.


    Slowly, I approached, matching his gaze with a warm smile of my own. I wanted him to see me, to feel my delight as I closed the distance. His growing confusion only heightened the pleasure curling in my chest.


    When I touched his back, he flinched. A tremor ran through his body, his breathing shallow as realization dawned. The fear in his eyes¡ªthe raw terror¡ªwas delicious.


    Yes. That was it. You must fear me.


    Then, with a surge of bliss, I released it. His body detonated beneath my palm, a shockwave of blood, flesh, and skin spraying across the cabin walls. The heat of the splatter and the scent of raw iron made me shudder¡ªit made me peak.


    The pleasure lingered as I watched the mess dripping down the walls. But I wasn¡¯t finished. Not yet.


    I was still itching. The hunger crawled beneath my skin; it was a relentless pulse that demanded release.


    The captain¡¯s cabin was dim when I entered. He sat slouched in his armchair, speaking into the radio, his voice strained as he reported the ongoing seaquake. His words trembled, but not with fear¡ªjust duty.


    The realm was changing.


    I had to find the one who would take over the realm and force them¡ªno, break them¡ªuntil they transferred it to Sir. I would steal it. I would tear it from their mind if I had to. I would do anything for Master.


    The captain didn¡¯t smile when I faked panic this time. He didn¡¯t offer help. He only scowled and barked at me to leave, his dismissive wave cutting through my performance. My blood raced faster, thickening, pounding against my temples. He wasn¡¯t even afraid.


    The seaquake eased, and for a breath, he reached for the radio again, static crackling as he addressed the passengers. Then, the barge trembled¡ªno, lurched. A vertical jolt flung us upward. My head hit against a metal pipe hard enough to blur my vision and steal the air from my lungs. Pain splintered through my skull.


    I hit the floor with a dull, ringing thud, writhing as darkness clawed at the edges of my mind. My body strained to stay conscious. Teeth gritted, I braced against the metal wall, fingers fumbling for a bolt to steady myself. Slowly, I dragged my body upright, forcing my weight against it until my footing returned.


    Silence. Too silent.


    The quake had either knocked everyone out or worse¡ªcompleted the realm¡¯s takeover.


    I had to find the person. Now.


    A weak groan broke the stillness. It was the captain. He lay sprawled, barely breathing. His face was slack, his uniform crooked. I crossed the cabin, seized him by the jacket¡¯s collar, and heaved him back into the armchair like a rag doll. The fabric, with its insignia and polished brass buttons, annoyed me. It looked pretentious and meaningless. I tore the jacket from his body and let it crumple on the floor.


    The itch had reached my throat. My fingers curled, twitching for release.


    I leaned in close, hands circling his neck, and shot a thought. The heat flowed from my temples, coating my skin in crimson, thrumming like a pulse beneath my palms. But I didn¡¯t burst him. Not yet.


    His eyes were still shut.


    I tightened my grip, thumbs pressing into his windpipe. His body spasmed, choking, struggling back to life. His eyelids flew open, and the terror¡ªthat beautiful terror¡ªbloomed.


    I savored it. The pure, primal fear.


    I smiled.


    And then I burst him.


    His neck ruptured beneath my hands, splintering with a wet, grotesque sound. Blood sprayed in hot bursts, the skin peeling open to expose shattered veins and ragged muscle. The head¡ªstill whole, still intact¡ªrolled forward, lolling uselessly.


    I picked it up.


    I felt the wetness spreading through my pants, the aftershock of pleasure crashing over me. It was perfection. Absolute perfection.


    But it didn¡¯t last.


    The door creaked open.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re here,¡± a voice murmured behind me, smug and calm.


    The joy curdled. My hand shot out, seizing his throat, pinning him against the metal door before he could speak again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Dare. Butt in,¡± I growled, the captain¡¯s severed head still gripped in my other hand.


    His lips curled despite my grip, his voice rasping. ¡°A¡ªand what are you go¡ªgoing to do? Bu¡ªburst me, too? Imagine how Ma¡ªMaster would love that.¡±


    The words cut deeper than my grip. Guilt tore through me. I released him, heart pounding, pulse conflicted.


    He straightened with a smug grin and stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders. Then, the bastard started doing jumping jacks¡ªmocking and taunting.


    If not for Master, his body would have already painted the walls.


    ¡°Now, now,¡± he sneered. ¡°I need to air out, too. Let me have a little fun here, can¡¯t I?¡±


    I should have killed him. But I didn¡¯t.


    For Master.


    ¡°Wait for me to be out. I¡¯ll head back to the cabin.¡±


    He grinned, flashing his braced teeth as a crimson thought expanded from his temple. Forming his fingers into mock knives, he added, ¡°Tell the rest I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    The door clicked shut behind me. The moment it did, the sound of slicing steel tore through the air¡ªshrieks of metal and flesh colliding. The chaotic noise almost reached our cabin by the time I returned to grab some coffee.


    Damn slashers. Weak-ass thinkers.


    When he returned, he was holding something, the smugness still plastered on his face.


    ¡°Hey, I know she¡¯ll need a model, so I snatched it.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at the bloodied object.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t move the head, did you? If you messed with it, I¡¯ll send you back to Master¡ªpiece by piece.¡±


    ¡°Come on, I¡¯d never do that. Look, it¡¯s still fresh. A little bloody, but she won¡¯t mind. Give it to her when she returns.¡±


    And that was how it all happened.


    Now, the people had settled around the shore, huddled around a crackling campfire, faces glowing with warmth and cheer. If only they knew. If only they realized what was coming.


    Time to play my role.


    *****


    She had been pacing the camp¡ªwatching, searching. Her careful gaze scanned the area as if checking off a list.


    I needed to end her. Now.


    Something told me she wasn¡¯t the creator I was after, but it didn¡¯t matter. She had done her part already. She was no longer needed.


    After a while, she retreated into her tent.


    The plan was simple. Kill everyone on the shore.


    Well¡­ not exactly everyone. We missed our window. Some had already slipped inland. No matter, Sir handled that. He was out there somewhere, hunting the ones who fled after I told him what I did to the captain.


    I had expected anger. Disapproval. But Sir wasn¡¯t even mad.


    The crowd around the campfire remained the same, faces relaxed in ignorant bliss. That slasher could probably take them out on his own, but his range was pathetic. Two meters of slashing radius? It was a joke. Slashers were weak. Mindless. And I wasn¡¯t one to talk¡ªmy own limitations irritated me¡ªbut he was still a weak-ass thinker.


    The others had already begun.


    I saw the first tents darken. Silent violence swallowed the flicker of light. Then, the muffled screams came¡ªlow, panicked sounds. The itch climbed from my throat to my palms. I needed to burst someone. Now.


    Two figures emerged from the woods.


    Oh, lucky me.


    I stepped into their path, all charm, all innocence. The man was supporting a woman, her skin blotched with angry red rashes. He explained they had returned early since she was itching all over.


    But her itch was nothing compared to mine.


    I gripped both their arms, pressing my fingers deep enough to feel their warmth. My smile curled into something far more exquisite as their faces twisted in growing horror, wide-eyed and trembling.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Perfect. Fear suited them.


    The bursting began¡ªslow, deliberate. Skin stretched, splitting as if water balloons had ruptured from the inside, fragments peeling away in shreds. Blood sprayed in thin arcs, warm mist peppering my face.


    Oh, the ecstasy.


    I loved this feeling.


    The wetness in my pants worsened.


    Still buzzing, I moved toward a nearby tent, pitched close to a strange cluster of coconut-like trees. The creator of this realm was odd, shaping such twisted imitations of the real world. Bark too pale, leaves too waxy¡ªhe was an artist losing his grip.


    I slipped inside the tent. Four people sat in a circle, engrossed in a card game.


    They noticed me but didn¡¯t question my arrival. One grinned and waved me over.


    ¡°Hey! Join us!¡±


    I accepted the offer, settling among them, my heart thundering as the itch returned full force.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make this more interesting,¡± I suggested. ¡°If I don¡¯t lose the first round, all of you die here. Deal?¡±


    They exchanged glances, the room stiffening for a heartbeat. Then, laughter erupted, loud and unguarded.


    ¡°Sure, sure! You¡¯re crazy, dude!¡±


    I didn¡¯t lose.


    I didn¡¯t even try.


    The second I touched them, they burst, flesh peeling back in wet explosions. The game ended in a perfect mess. Strips of intestine dangled from the wood beams, delicate like garlands, while blood soaked into the canvas walls in deep, artistic splashes.


    Beautiful.


    Outside, I nearly collided with a bald man.


    He scowled, muttering curses under his breath. ¡°Piss off.¡±


    Wrong move, fatty.


    A casual brush against his shoulder was enough. His eye sockets burst in twin sprays of red. His body slumped with a lifeless thud, disappointing me. Too easy. Not even worth it.


    The next tent was larger. Crew members lay sprawled on worn blankets, resting, oblivious.


    I put on my act again¡ªhelpless, trembling. They circled me, concerned, soft voices asking how they could help.


    Fools.


    The thought rippled from my temple, crimson heat coiling over my skin as their insides ruptured. Blood poured from their eyes, noses, mouths, staining their clothes in rich, spreading blooms.


    It was so satisfying.


    My pants got sticky now.


    I wandered through the camp, eeny-meeny-miny-moeing the next tent, but before I could enter, the weak-ass slasher emerged from another tent, grinning. Blood dripped from the slashes he''d carved into the canvas, jagged holes marking his sloppy work.


    His smug smile made my fists clench.


    If he didn¡¯t disappear soon, I¡¯d burst his damn skull for fun.


    But there was a better prize waiting.


    I chose a tent with a patterned cloth door, its edges embroidered with intricate designs. Inside, on a salvaged chair clearly taken from the barge, sat teacher Mary.


    She was poised, elegant despite the chaos outside, writing carefully in a worn notebook.


    She noticed me immediately.


    Her pen stilled. She closed the notebook with a soft snap, her expression hardening.


    ¡°What are you doing here? It¡¯s almost dark,¡± she said, her voice stern and controlled.


    I slipped into my sheep¡¯s skin, hunching my shoulders, eyes wide with fake innocence. ¡°I¡ªI just need to use the comfort room. I can¡¯t find it anywhere.¡±


    She sighed and stood. Her controlled gait was so precise and proper.


    ¡°Wait here. I¡¯ll call someone to guide you.¡±


    No.


    I shifted, stepping in her path, forcing a sweet smile¡ªone that almost cost me my pride.


    ¡°No, please. I¡¯d rather you accompany me. I¡¯d feel safer.¡±


    Her gaze lingered on my face a moment too long, suspicion creeping in. But then, she nodded.


    ¡°Fine. Come along.¡±


    Outside, the horizon had deepened to a blood-red haze. It was the perfect backdrop for what was about to unfold.


    As we walked, I noticed her eyes shifting and scanning the camp. She lingered too long on certain tents, frowning at the blood seeping from some of them. Her suspicion grew stronger with every step.


    We reached the makeshift comfort room, which was a flimsy hut of tarpaulin and wood. She gestured sharply.


    ¡°Go on. Make it quick.¡±


    It sounded more like an order than a suggestion.


    I hated her tone.


    But I let it slide for now.


    Once I finished, I stepped back into the dimming light where she waited.


    It was time to drop the act.


    But she was gone.


    This must be a joke. Where did that bitch go?


    But there was no need to panic. She couldn¡¯t have gotten far. She wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything by now.


    Humming softly, I strolled back toward her tent, the sound of my own voice steadying the irritation building under my skin. When I peeked inside, she was back on the same chair, still scribbling calmly in her notebook as if nothing had happened.


    I tilted my head. Had she noticed? No, impossible. If she had, there would be fear¡ªtension¡ªher heartbeat stuttering under that composed exterior.


    I approached, keeping my grin restrained, and she glanced up, nodding toward the makeshift bed.


    ¡°Sit,¡± she said flatly, not bothering to break her focus from whatever she was writing.


    I obeyed, settling down with exaggerated sweetness, tilting my head in feigned curiosity. I let her savor her final moments. The thrill coiled tighter in my chest as I counted down in my head. Twenty seconds until bursting time.


    Her hand glided across the page without pause.


    ¡°What are you writing?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just my thoughts,¡± she replied, her eyes not leaving the page. ¡°I like to write them down when I¡¯m idle.¡±


    Thirteen seconds.


    ¡°Am I included in those thoughts?¡±


    Nine.


    Her lips curled slightly. ¡°Try to guess.¡±


    Five.


    ¡°I hope you do,¡± I purred, leaning closer, ¡°because I¡¯ve be¡ª¡±


    The words choked off. My eyes caught a smear¡ªjust a glint of crimson on her elbow where it rested against the notebook¡¯s edge.


    Blood.


    She knew.


    My grin twisted. A thrill, sharper than before, surged through me. She turned, eyes narrowing, voice cold as she asked, ¡°What in the bloody demon are you?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help myself. The tension snapped, and I laughed¡ªloud, wild, unhinged. My body doubled over, shoulders shaking as I clutched my stomach. Sand stuck to my damp hands as I rolled onto my side, roaring with laughter.


    When I sat up, wiping my eyes, she was just watching. No trembling. No fear.


    Only a calm, assessing gaze.


    The heat in my chest dimmed.


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s not how this works,¡± I said, my voice lowering. ¡°I can¡¯t kill you if you¡¯re not scared.¡±


    Suddenly, she stepped forward, closing the distance faster than I expected, and seized both my wrists. Her grip was firm¡ªtoo firm.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± she hissed, her voice steel under the calm exterior. ¡°Were you the one who did¡­¡±


    Her voice faltered, but the accusation remained in her eyes.


    I wrenched my arms, trying to shake her off. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t touch me.¡± My voice rose, cracking.


    And then¡ª


    The blur.


    I barely registered her movement before cold metal crashed against the side of my head. White-hot pain exploded through my skull. I crumpled, my knees hitting the ground with a jarring thud. The edges of my vision darkened as I clutched my head, sticky warmth trickling down my temple.


    I blinked hard, disoriented. The ground tilted. There had been a spike on that damn thing she hit me with.


    Focus.


    I forced the thought through the pain, summoning the crimson energy from my temple. My vision sharpened just as I launched myself at her, tackling her into the side of the tent.


    The tarp collapsed around us, plunging everything into stifling darkness.


    I pinned her. My hand closed over her throat, ready to burst¡ª


    But nothing happened.


    No surge. No release.


    Something sharp dug into my palm.


    I pulled back, and in the dim light bleeding through the fallen tarp, I saw it¡ªthe bloodied, jagged piece of metal she had driven into my hand.


    That bitch.


    I stumbled to my feet, tearing my way out of the collapsed tent. My breath was ragged. She was gone. Again.


    The silence felt heavier and wrong this time.


    I staggered forward, dripping blood, scanning every tent, every shadow. No trace of her.


    Two men in coveralls blocked my way. They were laughing. One bumped into me, barely registering my existence.


    ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, kid,¡± one muttered, giving me a rough shove that sent me back to the sand.


    The blood trickled into my eye. It blinded me for a while.


    They were still laughing.


    I rose, shaking.


    ¡°Oh, damn, sorry, man,¡± one said, glancing down. ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡±


    Too late.


    I got to them fast, faster than their tiny minds could process what was coming. My fingers drove through their chests, the wet crunch followed by the sharp whistle of air escaping their punctured lungs. A bloody gap opened where their hearts had been.


    The organs shot backward, propelled several meters before slowing to a halt on the sand with soft thuds. Their bodies crumpled next, lifeless, slumping like broken puppets whose strings had been severed.


    I stood over them. I was breathing hard.


    Pathetic.


    I kicked both corpses, the hollow sound of flesh meeting flesh only fueling the restless itch crawling under my skin. Spitting on their slack faces, I whispered, ¡°Not even worth the kill.¡±


    ¡°Hey! How¡¯s your end?¡±


    The weak-ass slasher was sprinting toward me, his grin as annoying as his thin voice. I could already hear the condescension creeping in.


    Control. I needed control. I clenched my fists, the blood on my palms tacky now.


    ¡°You better not talk to me,¡± I warned, my voice low. ¡°I¡¯m on my wits¡¯ end.¡±


    His eyes flicked to my temple where the blood still trickled. Smug bastard.


    ¡°Well, what could¡¯ve upset you? Let me guess¡­¡± His smirk widened. ¡°Someone hurt you, right?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t even a guess.


    ¡°Don¡¯t push me.¡± My hands twitched, the itch flaring again.


    ¡°Relax.¡± He raised both hands with mock innocence. ¡°I¡¯m just confirming your progress for the report. Sir expects professionalism. Let¡¯s keep it clean, yeah?¡±


    My pulse pounded behind my eyes. Calm down. Breathe.


    Calm¡ª


    A hard impact struck my back, shoving me forward. I staggered, nearly toppling face-first into the sand.


    The rage exploded in my chest. My arms shot out, fingers curling, thought building¡ª


    I froze mid-motion as I recognized the intruder.


    She was smiling and gleeful as if she hadn¡¯t just pushed me.


    ¡°Hey! How are you two? Did you finish your tasks?¡± she said. Her voice was honeyed but grating, seeping under my skin.


    The slasher wiped his blade absently against his sleeve, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m done. The twins finished, too. Him?¡± He pointed at me, smug. ¡°Still waiting on his report.¡±


    Her eyes turned my way.


    ¡°And why would that be?¡±


    He shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°We were in the middle of a conversation when you interrupted. I think he was just about to tell me something. What was it again?¡±


    These two. They didn¡¯t get it.


    I was shaking with the need to burst. Couldn¡¯t they see it? The way my hands trembled? The blood seeping from my temple wasn¡¯t just from teacher Mary anymore¡ªit was from me holding back.


    I bit my lip hard, tasting iron, and whispered, ¡°I killed them all¡­ except one.¡±


    Silence.


    The slasher was the first to break it with a chuckle, shrugging as if to comfort me. ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it. I let one slip, too¡ªby accident, of course. Got his arm, though.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she said. The sweetness in her voice was drained. ¡°Well, that¡¯s disappointing. You know how Master feels about loose ends. What was your job again?¡±


    My fists curled tighter.


    ¡°To kill.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Her head tilted, her smile cutting deeper. ¡°And yet¡­ You didn¡¯t. Do you think Master will be proud of your effort? Or will she be¡­ disappointed?¡±


    Fake.


    Every word from her mouth was laced with that syrupy venom, that mocking edge as if she didn¡¯t already know she was better than us.


    Sixty percent brain capacity.


    The controller.


    She was the most powerful among us. She was able to manipulate her victims without so much as lifting a finger. She didn¡¯t even need physical contact.


    She could crush us all without moving an inch. And she was Master¡¯s favorite, of course. She was her perfect student.


    I clenched my jaw, my palms itching worse than ever as I stared at her perfect, gloating face.


    She turned with an exaggerated sigh and gestured toward the blue tent in the corner.


    ¡°Come,¡± she said, her voice sugar again. ¡°Let¡¯s talk. I want to show you something.¡±


    We followed. We always did.


    Inside, the tent smelled of damp fabric and copper. She gestured for us to sit. I didn¡¯t.


    A backpack sat in the corner. Without a word, she pulled it toward her, unzipped it, and began withdrawing its contents¡ªone by one.


    The first head hit the table with a soft, damp thud. It was a woman with wide, glassy eyes and pouty lips frozen in horror.


    Next, it was a man with thick, bushy hair, so tangled it almost resembled an afro. His mouth hung open as if he had been screaming when it happened.


    Then, came the third. It was another woman, her eye sockets gouged empty, a cavern of darkness where her gaze once was.


    The fourth one was a handsome man. Well, not now. His tongue had been ripped from his mouth and stitched grotesquely to his cheek. A bloodied baseball bat rested against the tent wall.


    The slasher let out a low whistle¡ªhe was clearly impressed. I stayed silent, the itch under my skin sharpening with every thunk of flesh against wood.


    She wasn¡¯t done.


    ¡°For the main course,¡± she announced with theatrical flair, ¡°I caught this one just moments before meeting you two.¡±


    The final head came.


    It was teacher Mary¡¯s head.


    Her face was pale, drained, yet still composed. Even now, with her eyes half-closed and lips slightly parted, she looked¡­ calm.


    Calm. Like she had accepted it.


    The blood coating her neck had dried to rust brown, yet that damn serenity clung to her expression.


    I stared.


    My hands shook.


    You beat me, teacher Mary. Even in death¡­ You beat me.

 Chapter 14 – The Familiar Ruins

    While the men buried Alyssa''s body beneath a tree that looked like a coconut palm, the three of us bawled like children near the cliffside. Wind whipped our faces, but we hardly felt it. The waves roared far below, yet all I could hear was our sobbing.


    We still hadn¡¯t processed what had happened with the captain¡ªand now this.


    What else could possibly happen?


    Vhina and Ritchelle sat on the damp grass, both staring blankly into the distance, their mouths slightly open. They had cried themselves dry, their swollen eyes bloodshot and empty. Out of the three of us, they were the most broken. Maybe this was the first time they had ever seen a body like that¡ªso ruined.


    Vhina was the first to move. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, wiping at her cheeks with trembling hands.


    ¡°This is stupid. So stupid!¡± Her voice cracked as she shouted into the void. ¡°How could something like that even happen? It¡ªit doesn¡¯t make sense!¡±


    Ritchelle stood next, fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. ¡°Yeah! It looked like¡ªlike someone pushed her. Someone posed her shoes, too, like it was a message or something!¡±


    I swallowed hard, my throat raw. ¡°But who?¡±


    My voice barely made a sound.


    Before either of them could answer, teacher Norkie emerged from the trees alone.


    He looked... hollow.


    His sunken cheeks were streaked with drying tears. His face, pale and drawn, was almost unrecognizable. He didn¡¯t meet our eyes. He didn¡¯t speak. He just trudged toward his old backpack resting near a grassy mound.


    Something felt wrong.


    He knelt and dug through the bag. My stomach twisted as I saw his fingers close around the handle of something metal.


    It was a machete.


    He stood, holding it loosely at his side. His lips curled into a grotesque smile. It was too wide and forced¡ªlike his face was fighting against itself. But his eyes...


    His eyes were wild. And dark.


    ¡°Hey, now,¡± he rasped, voice trembling with something worse than grief. ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡±


    We froze.


    The wind stopped. Even the ocean fell silent.


    No. No, that couldn¡¯t be right. Teacher Norkie was the one? A teacher? Our teacher?


    The machete gleamed as he swung it lazily from side to side, stepping toward us. Each swing whistled through the air, closer and closer.


    Vhina gasped, stumbled back, then screamed¡ªan ear-splitting, terrified sound¡ªand bolted for the bushes without a word.


    ¡°Vhina! Come back!¡± Ritchelle cried, reaching out. But Vhina didn¡¯t stop. She was already gone, disappearing into the undergrowth like smoke.


    Just like that.


    She left us.


    Wasn¡¯t she a friend? My best friend?


    Ritchelle turned toward me, her face pale but trying to smile. ¡°Hey,¡± she whispered, voice shaking. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared. We¡¯re fine. We¡ª¡±


    Her head twitched.


    Then it twisted.


    Now just once. But twice.


    A sickening, wet crack echoed through the air as her neck rotated all the way around.


    She didn¡¯t scream. She didn¡¯t fight.


    Her body crumpled forward, landing in the damp grass with her face twisted skyward, lifeless eyes staring at nothing.


    I shrieked.


    I couldn¡¯t stop screaming.


    Ritchelle was dead. She was dead dead.


    I clutched my head, shrieking louder, the sound tearing from my throat in broken bursts. I called for help. I cried for someone¡ªanyone¡ªto save me.


    But no help came.


    Teacher Norkie was already closing in, the machete dragging a faint line through the soil as he stalked forward. His breathing rasped, hoarse and ragged, echoing louder than the pounding of my pulse.


    I tried to run. But my legs refused to obey.


    They trembled, buckled beneath me, sending me crashing to the ground in a clumsy sprawl. Grass stuck to my damp palms as I clawed at the earth, scrambling for anything¡ªanything¡ªto defend myself.


    Nothing.


    Just mud.


    I grabbed a handful, hurling it blindly at him.


    The clump struck his cheek and smeared down his face.


    He didn¡¯t even blink.


    The blade rose.


    I watched, helpless, as the machete glinted above me, the weight of it dragging my gaze like a magnet.


    No thoughts came.


    No plans.


    I just... gave up.


    Curling into myself, I flung my arms over my head, cowering as I waited for the strike.


    I closed my eyes and prayed.


    The blade never reached me.


    A figure lunged between us.


    Rico.


    He caught the blade¡ªcaught it¡ªwith his bare hands, the machete biting deep into his palms. Blood ran down his wrists, but he didn¡¯t seem to care. His body blocked my view, but I heard the scrape of metal against bone.


    With a fierce growl, Rico shoved the blade aside, twisting it from teacher Norkie¡¯s grip. The older man staggered, losing balance for just a second. Rico didn¡¯t waste it. He drove his foot hard into teacher Norkie¡¯s stomach. The sound was brutal¡ªa sharp, hollow thud¡ªas the kick sent him sprawling onto his back.


    Before I could even register what happened, Rico scooped me into his arms in a tight bridal carry and bolted for the trees.


    The world blurred around us as he ran, weaving through dense foliage with frantic, pounding steps. His breath came hard and fast, his body trembling with strain. I felt the heat radiating from his chest, his sweat trickling down and dampening my shirt where it touched my bosom¡ªbut I didn¡¯t care.


    I clung to him, my heart hammering faster than it should, not just from fear but from... something else. Something I didn¡¯t dare name.


    For the first time since this nightmare began, the sheer terror ebbed but just for a heartbeat. I felt... safe. And for that brief moment, all the fear and chaos melted away.


    We burst into a clearing, and he slowed, gently setting me back on my feet. His breath came ragged as he braced his hands on his knees, chest rising and falling in sharp gasps. Sweat dripped from his chin, plastering strands of his dark hair to his forehead, but he still managed a crooked, awful smile.


    I couldn¡¯t help it. I laughed.


    It was the worst timing imaginable, the sound sharp and broken in my throat. I regretted it instantly, clamping a hand over my mouth as the weight of everything returned.


    What was I doing? We¡¯d barely escaped being murdered.


    I pulled the hydro flask from my bag, the one I¡¯d meant to give to Vhina¡ªthe same Vhina who had just left us behind without a second thought. Rico hesitated when I offered it, his gaze lingering on the half-empty bottle.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he rasped. ¡°It¡¯s barely enough for¡ª¡±


    I punched his chest, just lightly enough to make a point. ¡°Drink it already.¡±


    He didn¡¯t argue further. Tipping the flask back, he drank it dry before handing it back.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± His voice softened. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I... I¡¯d be lying if I said yes.¡± My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, fighting back the sob threatening to break free. ¡°I¡¯m still processing everything. I don¡¯t even know how to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He shifted as if unsure what to say. ¡°And... Thank you. For the water.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. I¡¯m the one who should be saying sorry.¡± My voice shook, but I forced a smile. ¡°You saved me, Rico. Thank you.¡±


    His lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile.


    ¡°We need to stay alert,¡± he murmured, his voice grim now. ¡°No matter how hard this is. If we can¡¯t accept the truth, we won¡¯t survive next time.¡±


    He was right.


    The truth.


    Teacher Norkie tried to kill me.


    The captain was dead.


    Alyssa. Ritchelle. All of them gone.


    And Vhina¡ªmy best friend for nearly five years¡ªabandoned me. Left me there to die.


    I sat on a nearby boulder, my legs trembling too hard to support me any longer. Rico paced the clearing, brushing back low-hanging branches, erasing any sign of our path. When he returned, he stripped off his coveralls, revealing a soaked white undershirt clinging to his chest. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, eyes distant.


    Neither of us spoke for a long time.


    The silence hung heavy. Too heavy.


    We were both trying to make sense of this nightmare, but the longer I sat there, the more hopeless it felt.


    Finally, Rico stirred.


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here,¡± he said quietly. ¡°If that teacher is still alive, he¡¯ll be looking. We need to keep moving.¡±


    I nodded, pushing myself up.


    The clearing stretched vast around us, surrounded by coconut-like trees, the ground uneven and damp. It was almost as wide as four soccer fields. Moonlight cast pale silver patches across the landscape, dim but enough to see by.


    At the center, half-buried in vines and moss, loomed the ruins of a massive stone structure.


    We exchanged a glance.


    ¡°Could be shelter,¡± Rico offered, but he didn¡¯t sound convinced.


    Or a trap.


    Still, we had nothing else.


    We approached cautiously, the crumbling walls rising high above us. It must have once been beautiful¡ªornate carvings twisted along the edges, though time and decay had worn most of the details away.


    We split up to search.


    Rico took the eastern wing while I explored the opposite side. Every step felt heavier as the night deepened. Shadows crept longer. The air grew colder.


    I found mostly useless junk¡ªrusted metal scraps, bits of torn fabric, empty containers¡ªbut I gathered some dry branches and twigs piled near a collapsed column.


    Night had fully fallen when we met back in the center.


    ¡°Nothing useful,¡± Rico muttered, shaking his head.


    ¡°Same here.¡±


    It was too late to keep searching. Too dangerous.


    Rico knelt and worked silently, using the branches to start a small fire. Sparks caught, and the flames flared to life, crackling softly. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the dark smudges beneath his eyes.


    We huddled close, letting the warmth chase away the night¡¯s chill.


    For a while, neither of us spoke.


    Then, softly, I broke the silence.


    ¡°Do you think... Do you think anyone else made it?¡±


    Rico stared into the flames. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I hope so.¡±


    We didn¡¯t talk much after that.


    The fire crackled. The wind whispered through the trees.


    And somewhere, out in the darkness, teacher Norkie was still out there. Waiting.


    ¡°You know,¡± Rico said, breaking the silence, ¡°I never really thought I¡¯d see you again.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Same here,¡± I replied, forcing a half-smile. ¡°Honestly, I was on the verge of forgetting you even existed... if we hadn¡¯t met here.¡±


    He raised a brow, giving me a playful, knowing look before chuckling.


    ¡°So... How¡¯s life been? You know, before all this?¡± He gestured vaguely to the darkness surrounding us.


    I shrugged, the weight of everything pressing too hard on my chest. ¡°Not great. But I was managing. What about you? I heard you became council president in your fourth year. Got the news after I graduated.¡±


    His smile turned a bit softer. ¡°Yeah, I did. You must have good connections to know that. But it wasn¡¯t the same without you there. Felt... boring, I guess. So, I chose a totally different course after that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sure,¡± I teased, narrowing my eyes. ¡°You probably had plenty of girls keeping you entertained instead.¡±


    Rico¡¯s face flushed. ¡°Wha¡ª? No! That was just Matt¡¯s joke, you know. I... I¡¯ve never even¡ª¡± He trailed off, looking away.


    We both fell into awkward silence, the crackling fire the only sound between us. I shifted, suddenly very aware of the tension. Sure, we were older now, but some topics still felt... strange.


    Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. ¡°So, uh... How long have you been seafaring?¡±


    ¡°Eleven months. This was supposed to be my last trip before going home.¡±


    A lump caught in my throat at the word ¡°home.¡± Would we even make it back there?


    I swallowed hard and asked, ¡°What happened to Matt?¡±


    Rico hesitated, his brows drawing together like he was trying to decide how much to say. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.


    ¡°We got separated. After we... buried your friend, we talked about how we¡¯d get through the night. Then, that teacher came out of nowhere. He shoved me to the ground, grabbed a stone, and threw it at Matt. It hit his leg pretty bad. They fought, but... that teacher got him in a chokehold and dragged him off. I looked everywhere. I¡ª¡± His voice tightened. ¡°I couldn¡¯t find him. Then, I heard you screaming.¡±


    The honesty in his voice made my chest ache. I wanted to say something comforting but couldn¡¯t find the words.


    Instead, I opened up, too. ¡°My best friend ran off. Vhina. She... left me there.¡±


    Rico nodded, thoughtful. ¡°Maybe she was scared. People react differently to¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just fear,¡± I cut in, my voice breaking. ¡°We were all scared. But Ritchelle and I¡­ We didn¡¯t run. We stayed. She stayed.¡±


    I stopped, the image of Ritchelle¡¯s broken body flashing too vividly in my mind. The ache behind my eyes grew sharp.


    Rico shifted closer like he wanted to comfort me but hesitated. He raised his hand then let it fall back to his side.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough crying now,¡± he said softly. ¡°I hate to say this, but... You need to move on. We both do.¡±


    It was the second time someone told me that today.


    Move on? How could I? My best friends were either dead or had abandoned me.


    If teacher Mary were here, she¡¯d know what to say.


    Rico stood suddenly and disappeared into the woods, the darkness swallowing him up.


    I wiped my face, trying to shake off the rawness inside me. When he returned, his arms were full of large green leaves and strands of something pale and fibrous.


    ¡°What... What¡¯s all that?¡± I asked, sniffling.


    He held up the strands. ¡°I scraped them off those coconut-looking trees. They¡¯re soft. Thought they might help you sleep more comfortably.¡±


    I blinked, taken aback by the gesture.


    Rico knelt and spread the fibers across the ground, mixing the leaves in as he layered them. When he finished, he stood back, frowning at his work like it wasn¡¯t quite right.


    Without a word, he grabbed the torch he¡¯d fashioned earlier and disappeared into the woods again.


    I watched, confused, as he made several more trips, each time bringing more leaves and fibers. He kept expanding the bed, smoothing it out until it was large enough for me to stretch comfortably.


    It looked like a mound of hay, but softer. Fluffy, even.


    My heart squeezed painfully.


    He didn¡¯t have to do all this.


    Rico finally stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°That should do it,¡± he muttered, though he didn¡¯t seem satisfied.


    I pressed my hand into the makeshift bed and felt the softness. The way the fibers cushioned my palm reminded me of clouds¡ªif clouds didn¡¯t smell like tree bark and damp leaves.


    ¡°Rico, this is... It¡¯s perfect. Thank you.¡±


    He gave me a half-smile, then he walked over to the pile of branches I¡¯d gathered earlier. Without saying a word, he arranged them into a rough mat on the opposite side of the fire and dropped onto it with a quiet grunt, his back turned to me.


    That pang of guilt twisted tighter in my chest.


    He did everything¡ªfought off teacher Norkie, saved me, built the fire, made me a bed¡ªand here I was, just... letting him.


    I curled up on the soft bedding, staring into the flames.


    I should be stronger. I couldn¡¯t keep relying on him for everything.


    But as the fire crackled softly and exhaustion weighed down my eyelids, I realized that¡ªfor the first time since this nightmare began¡ªI didn¡¯t feel completely alone.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said softly, breaking the quiet. ¡°Why don¡¯t you sleep with me? There¡¯s enough space for one more.¡±


    It took a second for the double meaning to hit me. My face heated. ¡°Wait¡ªno! Not like that! Don¡¯t get weird thoughts! I didn¡¯t mean it that way.¡±


    Rico smirked but stayed where he was. ¡°Relax. I know what you meant. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t fit. I¡¯m a two-person kind of guy.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m serious. We can sleep togeth¡ªI mean, you can sleep here. With me. Just... sleeping.¡±


    His grin widened. ¡°You really don¡¯t have to clarify. I get it.¡± His voice softened a little. ¡°But... We¡¯re a man and a woman. It¡¯s not exactly appropriate, you know.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°You can¡¯t afford to be modest right now. It took me a lot of courage to even offer, so you better take it.¡±


    For a long moment, he didn¡¯t answer. Then, slowly, he turned toward me. The fire crackled between us, dancing in his eyes. In the dim light, his face was mostly shadow, but I could still make out the curve of his lips as he smiled.


    He drew a deep breath. ¡°You look so beautiful from here. I wouldn¡¯t give up this view for anything.¡±


    His words hit me hard. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I opened my mouth to throw back some kind of teasing reply¡ªbut nothing came out.


    We just stared at each other, caught in some unspoken moment as the flames shifted and flickered.


    Minutes passed. Finally, without another word, we both settled in.


    The night air bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. Somehow, I felt warm enough already.


    *****


    I woke late the next morning, blinking against the sunlight filtering through the leaves.


    Rico was gone.


    For a split second, panic gripped my chest. Had he¡ª?


    No. He wouldn¡¯t leave me. I knew he wouldn¡¯t.


    He was probably searching for food or scouting the area.


    Pushing the nerves aside, I decided to keep searching the ruins on my own. Maybe there was something useful we¡¯d missed last night.


    I moved further north, weaving through broken stone columns and overgrown vines. Most of the debris was just rubble¡ªcrumbling walls, shattered furniture, and strange, rusted shapes I couldn¡¯t quite identify.


    Then I found them.


    Bones.


    I knelt, staring at the pale fragments half-buried in the dirt. They were brittle, jagged¡ªtoo broken to tell if they were human.


    A sick feeling curled in my stomach.


    I shoved away the thought and pressed on, trying not to overthink it.


    The grassy undergrowth thickened, and just beyond it, I spotted something unusual¡ªa huge metal structure, partially sunken into the earth.


    It took me a moment to place the shape.


    A lift.


    I approached carefully, brushing aside vines clinging to its rusted frame. Its massive rigging and cables stretched high, and the cabin, though weathered, looked oddly familiar.


    Beneath it, near the base, a small pile of ashes and charred twigs caught my eye.


    I crouched, running my fingers over the blackened remains. Burnt, but recent. Someone had made a fire here... not long ago.


    Footsteps crunched behind me.


    I spun, heart leaping¡ª


    It was Rico.


    He emerged from the tree line, arms loaded with fruit¡ªapples, oranges, grapes, and berries as if he¡¯d raided a whole market.


    ¡°And here I thought you left me,¡± I teased, hiding how relieved I felt.


    He grinned. ¡°Nah, just making sure we don¡¯t starve.¡± He set the food down and raised the hydro flask, now filled. ¡°The island''s got everything, huh? Weird, but... lucky for us.¡±


    We sat together, eating in comfortable silence as we shared the fruit. Sweet juices dripped down my chin, and for a while, everything felt almost... normal.


    I told him about the lift and the strange ashes I found.


    Without a word, we went to inspect it together.


    ¡°We could use this if we can get it out,¡± I said. ¡°Might be a way off this island.¡±


    Rico nodded, pressing his hands to the metal frame. ¡°Are you going to make a boat out of it? Anyway, let¡¯s try moving it. Ready?¡±


    We pushed together, bracing our feet. The lift didn¡¯t budge.


    Rico let out a long breath and stepped back, frowning. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the woods again.


    When he returned, he was dragging a massive log¡ªtwice his height, probably just as heavy. I stared, speechless.


    ¡°How¡­ How did you even carry that?!¡±


    Rico just grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°Told you. I¡¯m a two-person kind of guy.¡±


    Rico wedged one end of the massive log under the base of the lift, adjusting a slab of stone in the center like a crude fulcrum. It took me a moment to realize what he was attempting.


    ¡°A lever?¡± I muttered, impressed.


    He gestured for me to hold the other end steady as he shifted the log deeper beneath the metal. I backed away once he¡¯d braced it, watching as he gritted his teeth and pressed down hard.


    The log barely budged.


    It caught somewhere under the contraption with a groan of strained wood and metal.


    Rico exhaled sharply, then¡ªdisgustingly¡ªspat on his hands, rubbing them together like he expected it to give him some kind of super strength.


    I wrinkled my nose. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    But my disgust vanished when he pressed down again with a deep grunt. The lift gave a loud creak and finally tipped aside with a heavy crash, revealing what lay beneath.


    As I¡¯d suspected, a pile of ashes mixed with soil remained along with several unburned branches and twigs.


    Someone had stayed here.


    Not too long ago.


    I felt Rico¡¯s gaze on me and glanced up. ¡°What?¡±


    His lips curled in a small, teasing smile. ¡°Nothing. You just look so serious and... interested.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I guess I¡¯m trying to keep my mind off what happened. Anyway, what do you think this means?¡±


    He crouched, prodding the ashes with a thoughtful frown. ¡°Well... ashes? Pretty self-explanatory.¡±


    I shot him a look. ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    His smile faded as he considered it more carefully. ¡°Someone camped here before us.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! Now, who do you think it was?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°I barely knew anyone on the barge. I can¡¯t guess.¡±


    ¡°No, not that. What if this island has locals?¡±


    Rico shook his head. ¡°Locals wouldn¡¯t live here. If they did, they¡¯d have better shelter than this wreck.¡±


    I blinked. That idea hadn¡¯t even crossed my mind. ¡°You have a point.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± he added, glancing back at the firepit, ¡°we can¡¯t deny someone was here.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed, frowning. ¡°But who?¡±


    ¡°It could be...¡± His voice dropped. ¡°It could be one of the missing people from the barge.¡±


    Hope surged through me. ¡°Yes! That¡¯s it! It might be one of the passengers!¡±


    Rico raised a hand gently. ¡°Hey, slow down. We shouldn¡¯t get excited until we find them.¡±


    Embarrassment cooled my excitement. I nodded, swallowing hard. ¡°You¡¯re right. But still, we have to search. Maybe they didn¡¯t go far.¡±


    Just as we turned to leave, Rico¡¯s gaze snagged on something in the ashes. He knelt, brushing away the soot, and tugged free a charred piece of wood.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± he murmured. ¡°There¡¯s something carved here.¡±


    I moved closer as he squinted at the faint markings.


    ¡°Finlay,¡± he read aloud.


    My heart clenched.


    ¡°Let me see that!¡± I snatched the wood from his hand, rubbing away more grime.


    It was faint, but unmistakable.


    Finlay.


    My breath caught. ¡°It¡¯s him! He was here!¡±


    Rico nodded, though his expression stayed cautious.


    Still clutching the piece of wood, I met his eyes. ¡°We have to find them. Now.¡±


    He nodded again, more firmly this time. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    We kicked dirt over the remnants of our fire, making sure it was fully extinguished before gathering our things. Our goal was clear¡ªfind the missing group. Or as teacher Mary had put it: Finding the Lost Group mission.


    I scooped up the half-full hydro flask from my makeshift bed when I caught a blur of motion.


    Rico¡¯s body whipped sideways, hurled against a stone column with a sickening thud.


    He hit the ground hard, rolling limply.


    ¡°Rico!¡±


    I spun, heart slamming in my chest. But before I could react, a furry mass barreled into me.


    A solid, crushing headbutt hit my ribs, launching me backward.


    I flew, landing hard beside Rico, my vision tilting sideways.


    The world dimmed.


    And then¡ªnothing.


    I opened my eyes to a sight so surreal it felt like a dream.


    I was hovering far above the island as if seeing it from a bird''s-eye view. The entire landscape spread below me¡ªbeaches, forests, and the ruins where Rico and I had camped. I could even make out the vague shape of our location, though everything was blurred, like a television screen stuck on static, the kind that sputtered with bzbzbzbz noises and gray dots.


    Scattered across the haze were tiny, moving dots¡ªpeople? Animals? I couldn¡¯t tell.


    The vision lasted only seconds before vanishing like a breath on glass.


    I jolted upright with a loud gasp, lungs burning for air. My pulse thundered in my ears as my surroundings came into focus.


    Rico stood before me, tense, his body angled protectively. His fists clenched as if bracing for a fight.


    Then I saw them.


    A pack of black wolves loomed just beyond the ruins, circling the perimeter like shadows against the fog. I counted at least twenty.


    The largest of them all, a dirty white wolf, stood front and center, its piercing gaze fixed on Rico. It was the alpha male. Its fur bristled, lips curling back to reveal long, sharp fangs.


    We were completely surrounded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Jelly. I got this,¡± Rico said, voice tight.


    He was lying.


    I could almost hear his heartbeat thudding like a drum.


    Grabbing a few rocks from the ground, I forced myself to my feet. ¡°No. We got this.¡±


    Rico turned his head just enough to catch my eye and gave me a tight, grateful smile.


    But the alpha male shifted its attention toward me.


    The snarl faded.


    Its golden eyes locked with mine for a heartbeat before it stepped back, then it retreated further into the pack.


    It let out a long, echoing howl.


    The others answered, their haunting cries rising in unison before they turned, melting back into the forest without a fight.


    We didn¡¯t move.


    Frozen, we stared at the spot where the wolves had disappeared, waiting for them to return, but they never did.


    Finally, our knees buckled, and we sank onto the damp grass, gasping for air.


    Rico broke the silence first. ¡°Oh my god. What the hell was that?¡±


    ¡°Wolves,¡± I whispered, still breathless. ¡°But... Why are there wolves here?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. But¡ª¡± He turned to me, frowning. ¡°What did you do? Their leader backed off the moment it saw you.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything. I just... stood there, ready in case they attacked.¡±


    Rico exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ¡°Imagine if they¡¯d all jumped us at once.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t even want to think about it.¡±


    He flashed a crooked grin. ¡°Well, I can imagine it. My ribs getting crushed, fangs tearing me apart¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop! That¡¯s not funny.¡±


    Rico snorted. ¡°Sorry. I guess the adrenaline¡¯s messing with me. You know, one of those close calls where you realize you just couldn¡¯t survive.¡±


    He laughed nervously, but I could see the strain in his face.


    I stared out into the trees. ¡°What now?¡±


    His smile faltered.


    He didn¡¯t answer. His gaze drifted upward, lost somewhere in the sky.


    Then I noticed it.


    There was a thin line of blood running from his right shoulder.


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re bleeding!¡±


    Rico blinked, then he craned his neck to look. His face twisted as he tried to see the wound. ¡°Oh. Don¡¯t worry. It just grazed me.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°Grazed? Seriously? Let me see it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Rico, you¡¯re hurt. I need to check it. I can¡¯t sleep knowing you¡¯re injured, and you keep doing everything. Let me help.¡±


    He hesitated, meeting my eyes with an expression I couldn¡¯t quite read.


    Finally, he sighed. ¡°Okay. Just... Don¡¯t poke it too hard.¡±


    I moved closer, inspecting the wound. It wasn¡¯t as deep as I¡¯d feared, but the skin had torn in a nasty scrape.


    Ripping a strip from the bottom of his shirt, I carefully wrapped it around his shoulder, tightening it just enough to slow the bleeding.


    ¡°There. That should hold.¡±


    Rico glanced at the makeshift bandage, smirking. ¡°Teacher-slash-nurse, huh?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t start teasing. We should stay here another night so you can rest properly.¡±


    His smile vanished.


    He leaned in, his face so close I could feel his breath¡ªwarm but tinged with the sourness of exhaustion.


    ¡°No,¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Staying here¡¯s not safe anymore. The wolves know where we are now.¡±


    He was right.


    We were exhausted, battered, but staying meant risking another attack.


    We had to move.


    Grabbing my dented hydro flask, I exhaled slowly, forcing my frayed nerves to steady¡ªlike how I kept my sanity in check.


    Still, as we prepared to leave, my thoughts drifted back to that strange vision I¡¯d had when I passed out.


    And I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling it meant something.

 Chapter 15 – The Thinkers

    ¡°Lucky Kid, do it now!¡±


    The experience was like a wild rodeo.


    I clung to the horn of a massive, rhino-like beast while it thrashed beneath me. Its powerful body twisted and bucked, jerking side to side, then rearing and slamming down so violently I nearly lost my grip more than once.


    For five chaotic minutes, it felt like a blur of motion¡ªjumping, twisting, stomping.


    But I held on.


    My fingers stayed locked around the beast¡¯s pinkish-red horn; it had strange carvings that felt suspiciously like handholds.


    It charged forward, exactly as planned, barreling straight toward Chevonne. She had lured it there deliberately, standing her ground as the creature thundered closer, drawn into Lucky Kid¡¯s thought.


    Then¡ªbang!


    *****


    Right after the giant incident, we had moved to a safer spot and camped for the night. We were exhausted, but the unease hadn¡¯t left us.


    The next morning, we woke early. Chevonne kept close watch on Lucky Kid, acting like he might bolt at any second.


    I had only half grasped what was going on. Something about this thinker thingy, but the details were still foggy. All I knew was that it somehow involved me, too, even though I wasn¡¯t special enough for something this bizarre.


    Or so I thought.


    During our trek that morning, a strange sound made us drop to our knees. A deep, rumbling vibration echoed through the ground. We hid behind a shrub of berry bushes, trying to stay low.


    Lucky Kid, as usual, ignored all caution and grabbed a handful of berries, stuffing them into his mouth like we weren¡¯t in mortal danger. I almost scolded him until I remembered what he could do. After all, I might be the one in actual danger if he got annoyed.


    Chevonne had called me a pothink. It was short for potential thinker. She claimed I had a thought ability but hadn¡¯t unlocked it fully yet. I was a ¡°diamond in the rough,¡± as she put it.


    It felt ridiculous.


    But there was no time to argue about it because we had bigger problems.


    Peering through a gap in the bushes, we spotted the source of the sound.


    It was a beast.


    It wasn¡¯t just strange¡ªit was otherworldly.


    It grazed nearby, grunting as it chewed, its enormous bulk framed by jagged horns jutting out from every part of its body.


    But the main horn¡ªthe one on its forehead¡ªwas different. It glowed faintly pinkish-red; grooves were carved along its length. The carvings looked deliberate, designed almost like grips for human hands.


    And that wasn¡¯t all.


    There was a saddle strapped to its back.


    Someone owned this thing.


    But where was the rider?


    Chevonne gave me a look, then she gestured for me to watch carefully.


    She whispered something to Lucky Kid, who nodded¡ªperhaps a little too eagerly¡ªand stepped out of hiding.


    ¡°Hey! Wait¡ª¡± I croaked, reaching out, but he ignored me.


    Lucky Kid was already committed.


    He sprinted toward the creature, winding up his arm, and smacked it hard on the rear.


    The beast barely flinched.


    For a heartbeat, nothing happened.


    Then, Lucky Kid bent, grabbed a rock, and hurled it straight at the beast¡¯s head.


    The stone struck with a dull thunk.


    I winced, bracing for disaster.


    The creature¡¯s eyes flashed wide. Its roar shattered the air; it was a deep, bone-rattling bellow.


    And when I looked back up, Lucky Kid was already standing in that strange stance again.


    Just like with the giant.


    A soft rustling beside me caught my attention.


    Chevonne stood, her gaze sharp, and the same shimmering force field pulsed from her temple. It was a thought, as she had explained.


    The rhino-like beast was enveloped by it.


    Chevonne glanced my way and whispered, ¡°Watch and learn.¡±


    Lucky Kid reached out and touched the beast. Then, without a word, he retreated and crouched beside me.


    Suddenly, Chevonne started tickling him.


    Lucky Kid burst into laughter, squirming and rolling on the grass.


    I was still trying to process how strange this was when the beast¡­ rolled, too.


    It flopped over on its back, writhing in the grass. A bizarre sound escaped it¡ªsomething between a chortle and a snort.


    I blinked, trying to make sense of it.


    Chevonne tickled Lucky Kid again.


    The beast let out another garbled laugh.


    Oh.


    I wasn¡¯t that dense. It hit me all at once.


    Chevonne had called herself a linker. She wasn¡¯t just controlling the beast¡ªshe had linked it to Lucky Kid.


    Whatever she did to him, the beast felt it, too.


    ¡°I get it now,¡± I said, my voice low but sure.


    She smirked. ¡°That¡¯s good. That saves me a lot of explaining.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°I have a question, though.¡±


    Chevonne paused, finally letting Lucky Kid catch his breath. He sat up, still giggling as he wiped his eyes.


    ¡°Go on,¡± she said, face serious now.


    ¡°To what extent is that creature affected by what you''re doing?¡±


    She smiled, then she helped Lucky Kid back to his feet. ¡°A linker can connect up to three living creatures within their thought. Rare cases have reported linkers managing five, but it¡¯s exhausting for them.


    ¡°There¡¯s also one rumored case of someone linking ten, but the credibility is¡­ questionable. Most people think it¡¯s a myth.¡±


    I nodded, absorbing her words.


    ¡°When I link someone,¡± she continued, ¡°anything that happens to me reflects on the linked inside my thought. The first linked receives the full effect¡ª100%. The second linked gets 80%, and the third receives 60%.


    ¡°However, if the first linked is the one affected, the second linked takes 100%, and the third takes 80%. If the second linked is affected, the third gets the full force, and the cycle goes on. The damage shifts depending on the source.¡±


    I frowned, turning the idea over. ¡°So, if the second linked takes the hit, you and the first linked feel nothing?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°And if the third¡ªthe last linked¡ªgets hurt, no one else feels anything since there¡¯s no one after them?¡±


    She nodded, impressed. ¡°You catch on fast.¡±


    I folded my arms. ¡°Okay. But how do you link someone?¡±


    Chevonne shrugged. ¡°When I initiate a thought, I just need to touch any living creature within it.¡±


    ¡°When did you link Lucky Kid and that thing? I didn¡¯t see you release the thought field until just now.¡±


    She gave me a knowing look. ¡°Back when I grabbed his collar in the building. Since you¡¯re still a pothink, you can¡¯t fully perceive a thought yet. Not unless you focus¡ªlike when Finlay silenced the giant.


    ¡°Once someone¡¯s linked, any living creature they touch within my thought becomes linked, too.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes further. ¡°So¡­ Normal people can¡¯t see this thought thing at all?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    I hesitated, a new question forming. ¡°And what about Finlay? Since he¡¯s already linked, does that mean¡ª¡±


    Chevonne cut me off with a smirk.


    ¡°Since he¡¯s linked, he can¡¯t do much to us. Even if he wanted to kill me, he¡¯d basically be committing suicide. The link stays¡ªpermanent¡ªuntil the linker releases it. Even outside my thought, it won¡¯t break unless I decide to end it.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Now, that was a nasty power.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I said, shifting the conversation, ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something. I hope you¡¯ll give me a straight answer since I already know a lot now. What were you doing on the school rooftop yesterday?¡±


    A sly smirk spread across Chevonne¡¯s face. She took her time before finally responding.


    ¡°Do you play Dota? Or any MOBA games?¡±


    I blinked. ¡°What? Yeah¡­ I do. Why?¡±


    She leaned closer. ¡°You know what a passive skill is, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°In a linker¡¯s case, either their mother or father is their buddy. A buddy is a special linked individual, and that link can¡¯t be broken¡ªever. Not until death.¡±


    I nodded, staying quiet so she¡¯d keep going.


    ¡°This grants the linker a unique ability: telepathy. No matter where they are in the world, the linker can speak directly to their buddy. But there¡¯s a catch¡ªit only works one way. The linker has to be the one to initiate it, and it¡¯s exhausting. When it happens, the linker is completely isolated, fully enveloped in their thought and unable to sense the outside world.¡±


    The rooftop incident suddenly made perfect sense.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you were drenched in sweat back then,¡± I muttered.


    She nodded. ¡°Yeah. I was trying to reach my buddy.¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    Chevonne exhaled softly, gaze lowering. ¡°My father.¡±


    The word hit me harder than I expected.


    Father.


    It made me think of my parents. I missed them. So much. And Vincent¡­ I wondered what they were doing now, whether they were safe, whether they were worried about me. I hoped they were okay.


    I was about to ask Chevonne what she and her father had talked about when a deafening roar tore through the air.


    The beast had spotted us.


    It snorted, pawing the ground with its massive hoof like a bull preparing to charge.


    Then, it charged.


    I threw myself forward, shoving Chevonne and Lucky Kid out of the way.


    The beast slammed into me instead, ramming me full-force into the hairy trunk of a cocohair tree. Breath whooshed from my lungs. Pain exploded in my back, but I managed to grab hold of its horn.


    The beast bucked violently, twisting its neck. With a swift, powerful motion, it flung me off and slammed me onto the ground.


    My vision blurred.


    I rolled, barely dodging a bone-crushing stomp that cracked the earth where I¡¯d been lying.


    Coughing, I spat blood into my palm. Damn.


    The beast paused, swaying slightly, then flopped onto its side, rolling in the grass as if it were being tickled.


    Chevonne.


    I glanced over. Sure enough, she was still tickling Lucky Kid, who was practically breathless with laughter.


    I gave her a shaky thumbs-up.


    But this couldn¡¯t last forever. I had no plan¡ªno strategy¡ªbut I knew one thing.


    I wouldn¡¯t let Chevonne keep carrying us.


    ¡°Chevonne, watch me,¡± I muttered.


    I grabbed a low-hanging cocohair leaf and hauled myself up the tree, climbing higher.


    ¡°From now on, I¡¯d be worthy of being your protector,¡± I whispered to myself.


    I leapt, landing squarely on the beast¡¯s back.


    *****


    Lucky Kid silenced the beast. It evaporated into mist.


    I collapsed onto the ground, coughing up blood again.


    ¡°Josh! Are you okay?¡± Chevonne asked.


    She knelt beside me, extending a hand. She hadn¡¯t noticed the blood. I wiped my stained palm against the dirt before taking her hand.


    I grinned, dusting myself off. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. Thanks.¡±


    She exhaled in relief. ¡°No, thank God. And also¡­ Thank you. For bravely luring that thing toward Finlay.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who did that?¡±


    ¡°Did what?¡±


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I muttered, letting it go. ¡°Anyway, since Lucky Kid was able to silence it, does that mean the beast was a product of a thought?¡±


    Her smile returned, bright and approving. ¡°I like how fast you¡¯re catching on.¡±


    I hope you¡¯ll like me, too, I thought, but I only said, ¡°It¡¯s basic once you know how a thought works.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re just too smart to begin with.¡±


    ¡°Not really. But since it was a product of a thought, doesn¡¯t that mean a thinker must have summoned it?¡±


    Her smile faded. She looked toward the sky, suddenly serious. ¡°You know what a realm is?¡±


    ¡°The definition? Yeah. A realm is a¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. Not the English definition. It¡¯s different for thinkers. I need you to understand what truly makes a thinker before we go further.¡±


    The shift in her tone made me focus.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find a place to sit first.¡±


    We moved to a small meadow where a shimmering lake lay nestled among cocohair trees. Lucky Kid, carefree as ever, tumbled down a grassy slope, laughing. Chevonne and I sat nearby, keeping him in sight.


    I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and sunlit grass. It felt¡­ peaceful. It was strange, considering everything that had happened.


    The stillness didn¡¯t last long.


    Chevonne¡¯s voice broke the calm. ¡°How are you feeling? I know it¡¯s a lot to take in, and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I smiled, hoping it was convincing. ¡°It¡¯s weird, yeah, but I¡¯m not about to break down over it.¡±


    Truth was, I couldn¡¯t waste time being overwhelmed. This wasn¡¯t some over-the-top anime plot or clich¨¦ dream. This was real.


    Chevonne nodded, satisfied. ¡°Good. Would you mind trying it again?¡±


    ¡°Trying what again?¡±


    ¡°Your power. You¡¯ve learned a lot today. You might be able to activate it now. But this time, keep it simple. Don¡¯t imagine anything complex¡ªjust focus on transforming an object. Let¡¯s start with that pebble.¡±


    She pointed behind me. I grabbed the small stone, turning it over in my palm.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re still a pothink, you¡¯ll need to concentrate more. Close your eyes. Picture the object clearly. Transform it into something vivid¡ªsomething you can see in your mind.¡±


    I nodded, shutting my eyes.


    A sampaguita.


    I pictured the delicate white petals and how they curled gently outward.


    A strange weightlessness spread through me. The fatigue lifted, and for a moment, I felt calm. Everything felt clear.


    But the sensation passed almost as soon as it came.


    I opened my eyes. The pebble was gone.


    In its place rested a perfect, snow-white flower.


    ¡°Oh my God¡­ Did I just¡ª¡± I broke off, staring at the flower.


    But within seconds, it reverted to a pebble.


    Chevonne gave me another heart-wrenching smile. ¡°Looks like you just surpassed the ten percent limitation of your brain.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Normal humans can only access about ten percent of their brain¡¯s capacity. But if someone manages to break past that¡ªsay, eleven percent¡ªthat person becomes a thinker. You¡¯ve probably heard stories about people controlling objects, generating electricity, or even walking on water, right? Those people were thinkers. Like you. There¡¯s actually a special thinker called a teacher who can gauge and classify a person¡¯s ability, but based on what you just did, I think you¡¯re a morpher.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ By the word itself, I can transfigure things?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. But only within your thought.¡±


    ¡°The sphere thingy? The force field I keep seeing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that. Like what I told you. The thought¡ªyour force field¡ªis the area of limitation. Anything outside of it won¡¯t be affected by your power. The size varies from thinker to thinker. It expands from your temple since the brain is the source of your thought ability. It¡¯d be complicated if I told you more about it. But that¡¯s the gist of it.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t release a thought when I morphed the pebble. My eyes were closed the whole time.¡±


    ¡°You did. You just didn¡¯t see it since, as you mentioned, your eyes were close. Also, someone with sharp focus can perceive a thought even when it¡¯s faint¡ªand it¡¯s a huge advantage when two thinkers face off. Here, try morphing the pebble again, but keep your eyes open this time.¡±


    I focused on the pebble, picturing the sampaguita flower again. This time, I saw it¡ªthe faint, shimmering barrier expanding outward from my head.


    Chevonne picked up the transformed flower and walked toward the edge of my thought. The moment she crossed it, the flower blinked back into a pebble.


    ¡°See?¡± She stepped back inside, the pebble still in her hand. ¡°Now morph it again.¡±


    I did. The pebble returned to the flower.


    ¡°Good. Now, cancel your thought. Clear your mind completely.¡±


    I exhaled and focused on¡­ nothing. The shimmering sphere vanished. The flower dissolved back into a pebble.


    I let out a deep sigh. ¡°So, I¡¯m really a morpher, huh?¡±


    For the first time, the strange things that happened on my seventeenth birthday actually made sense.


    Chevonne¡¯s expression shifted. ¡°Well¡­ about that. I¡¯m not completely sure yet.¡±


    I raised a brow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°As I said, only a teacher can officially gauge and classify your thought. A morpher is just one of many thought abilities. There¡¯s a whole spectrum of thought abilities a thinker can be categorized into, and sometimes, a thinker can even be reclassified as their abilities evolve. So, while you seem like a morpher, your true classification is still up in the air.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°A spectrum?¡±


    She nodded and sneezed suddenly before continuing. ¡°Yeah. Thinkers are divided into three margins¡ªgreen, orange, and red.¡±


    ¡°Like a traffic light? Green means good, red means bad?¡±


    Chevonne shrugged. ¡°Maybe. But to clarify, green margin thoughts are the rarest and most powerful. Thinkers in this category can¡¯t even be classified or measured by a teacher. There are only two known thought abilities in the green margin, and they¡¯re considered the greatest of all thinkers.¡±


    I felt a chill run down my spine. ¡°And the red margin?¡±


    ¡°That one¡¯s more straightforward. Red margin thoughts are dangerous. They can directly harm¡ªor even kill¡ªsomeone.¡±


    I swallowed hard. ¡°What about the orange margin?¡±


    She hesitated, clearly thinking carefully. ¡°I¡¯m not completely sure yet, but from what I¡¯ve learned, orange thoughts are mostly supportive. They can¡¯t directly hurt anyone. But don¡¯t be fooled into thinking they¡¯re harmless. Orange thinkers can still cause harm¡ªjust indirectly.¡±


    I nodded slowly, processing that. ¡°And the sphere? The thought barrier thing? Does it apply to all thoughts?¡±


    ¡°Not always. My linked ability, for example, stays active even if the linked individuals leave my thought¡¯s range. That¡¯s part of why I¡¯m still a bit confused about orange-margin thinkers.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ You¡¯re in the orange margin?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If you¡¯re really a morpher, then we¡¯d be the same.¡±


    The idea of sharing the same thought margin with her made my heart race.


    We kept talking, our conversation drifting between thinkers and personal stories. For the first time in a while, it felt like I was getting closer to her again, rebuilding what we once had.


    Suddenly, Chevonne bolted upright, scanning the area.


    ¡°Finlay¡¯s gone.¡±


    I shot to my feet and searched the clearing for tracks. Nothing.


    I clenched my fists and muttered to myself, ¡°I¡¯m going to scold that brat when we find him. Enemy or not, he¡¯s still my student.¡±


    Chevonne shot her thought, which spread wide, and looked ready to hurt herself to trigger her ability, but I caught her wrist. ¡°Let¡¯s try to find him first. No need for that yet.¡±


    I pointed ahead. ¡°Let¡¯s check that rocky trail.¡±


    We hiked deeper into the woods, finding a small stream along the way. We drank handfuls of water, then we walked a little farther until we discovered some berries and apples.


    For a moment, it felt peaceful again. Just the two of us.


    Thinker or not, my wish had surely been granted.


    Then, a memory struck me.


    ¡°Hey¡­ Weren¡¯t you going to explain what a realm is?¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°Oh, right! Sorry, I totally forgot.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°Since you call it a realm, does it have something to do with a place? A territory?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Kind of. Remember how a person can only be called a thinker if they surpass the ten percent brain limit? The two thought abilities in the green margin are so ridiculously powerful that only a handful of people belong to it. They achieved almost ninety percent brain capacity.


    ¡°The first one is a teacher. As what I told you, they¡¯re the only thinkers who can gauge and classify other thinkers. There are only a few of them in the entire world. One of them, according to my father, is Finlay¡¯s mother.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°His mom¡¯s a thinker?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°The second thought ability in the green margin is even rarer¡ªit¡¯s considered the strongest of all. This thinker¡¯s power can only be inherited or transferred. There are only four known individuals like this worldwide.¡±


    My mind raced. ¡°Wait¡­ Are you saying you know one of them?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And Josh¡­ We¡¯re inside his thought right now.¡±


    ¡°Whut?¡±


    ¡°Think back to that rhino-like beast. Why do you think Finlay was able to silence it?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it because it was a product of a thou¡ª¡± I stopped mid-sentence. My mind caught up with hers, connecting all the dots. The beast. The strange events. The island itself.


    ¡°Chevonne¡­ Don¡¯t tell me we¡¯ve been inside a thought this whole time.¡±


    She met my eyes, deadly serious. ¡°Yes, Josh. This entire island is inside a thought. I believe it was Bantayan Island, but something happened here¡ªsomething hidden from the outside world. Only a creator can produce a thought this massive, controlling everything inside it¡­ including the power to create. Like the beast.¡±