As the final bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, I exchanged quick goodbyes with my classmates before making my way toward the dormitory. The girls' dorm stood to the left of the school's grand main building, its brick façade glowing under the afternoon sun. The ten-minute walk felt like a quiet escape, a welcome distance that separated the structured chaos of the classrooms from the more personal space of the dorm.
The building itself was impressive—three stories high, with ivy creeping up its stone walls and large windows that reflected the sky. Inside, fifty rooms housed students from the 1st to the 5th year, each space filled with whispered secrets, late-night study sessions, and quiet moments of solitude. Across the campus, on the far side of the school, stood the teachers' dorm and the boys' dorm, isolated from ours like separate worlds entirely.
As I mentioned earlier, The dorm rooms were built for two, each a mirror image of the other—two beds neatly positioned against opposite walls, two sets of study tables and chairs tucked beneath bright overhead lights. An attached bathroom, sleek and spotless, hinted at the luxury of privacy within the shared space. The compact kitchen stood just beyond, its minimalist design offering everything needed for quick meals without clutter. The air carried the crisp scent of fresh wood, mingling with faint traces of cleaning supplies—a subtle reminder that this room had been untouched, waiting for new occupants to claim it. The school cafeteria provided pre-made meals, but students could also buy ingredients from the school store to cook their own. Since it was the first day, I decided to indulge and grab something from the cafeteria.
When I arrived at the dorm, I paused by the notice board, scanning for any announcements or upcoming meetings. Blank. Nothing but a few leftover flyers curling at the edges. With a shrug, I headed straight to my room. The soft click of the door closing behind me was oddly satisfying. I placed the neatly packaged dinner I'd bought into the mini-fridge, the cool air brushing my hand as I tucked it away for later. The room smelled faintly of fresh wood and the sterile trace of cleaning supplies like it was still adjusting to having someone living in it.
Sighing with relief, I loosened my tie and slipped out of the uniform I'd been so excited to try on just yesterday. It felt strange, trading crisp fabric for the familiar comfort of casual clothes—like peeling off the first layer of a long day. The soft cotton hugged my skin as I sank into the chair by the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the floor.
This school had a uniform, unlike anything you'd see at a typical academy—just like everything else about it. It stood apart from other institutions, not only because of its futuristic design but because of the very reason it existed. The school itself was built based on the vision of a mysterious young scientist, someone whose name remains undisclosed, almost like an urban legend whispered among those who knew of the project. The most unbelievable part? The government built the entire school in just two years. Two years to create not just classrooms, but a place designed to push the boundaries of science itself. It was more than an ordinary school—it was a hub for young scientists, where we studied not only regular subjects but advanced courses you'd never find anywhere in a regular school.
Take robotics, for example. In our second year, we could choose it as one of our main courses—a subject that wasn't just about studying diagrams and theories from a textbook. We'd actually design and build our own robots, each creation a reflection of our understanding and creativity. Then there was genetic technology, another course option, where students didn't just memorize principles—they worked with real animals while exploring the complex ethical considerations surrounding the field.
As I mentioned earlier, this school didn't believe in learning from the confines of a desk. It thrived on hands-on experiences, pushing us into real-world applications of everything we studied. That's one of the biggest reasons why this place stood out, why it earned the title of a "special school."
In our second year, we could choose one to three subjects as our main focus, shaping our education around what fascinated us most. But during the first year, things were different. We had to study everything. Every subject, every class. The catch? While attendance was mandatory, we were only required to take tests for the three subjects we'd eventually choose. This system gave us time—time to explore, to experiment, and to figure out what truly ignited our curiosity.
For someone like me—someone without a clear goal for the future—that sounded perfect. There was no pressure to decide right away, just room to explore and maybe stumble across something that clicked.
Even the uniform reflected the school's futuristic, hands-on philosophy. It wasn't just clothing; it was designed for both classroom learning and practical lessons, seamlessly blending form and function. Both girls' and boys' uniforms followed a similar design, crafted from a special fabric introduced by the school itself. This wasn't ordinary cloth—it was fireproof, waterproof, and surprisingly lightweight. The material moved effortlessly with the body, making it perfect for both intense experiments and casual activities. Whether it was the heat of summer or the chill of winter, the uniform adapted, keeping us comfortable year-round.
The girls' uniform, in particular, was a striking ensemble that balanced style with practicality. We wore a vibrant dark blue, sleeveless V-neck vest, lightweight yet durable, embroidered with the school's badge—an emblem that quietly radiated pride. Beneath the vest, a crisp white high-neck, long-sleeve t-shirt added contrast and a touch of freshness to the look. Not only that, The black cargo shorts also stood out, designed not just for appearance but for functionality. Stylish zipper pockets adorned each side, offering both convenience and flair. Every detail had a purpose, every stitch echoing the school's philosophy of innovation. At last Custom-made shoes and high socks finished the look. It wasn't exactly what you'd picture for a school uniform, but that's what made it stand out. It was designed for students who weren't stuck behind desks all day but were constantly on the move—experimenting, building, figuring things out.
Actually… if I'm being honest, the uniform was one of the reasons I applied here.
I had no specific goal for the future, no ambition driving me to excel beyond my own quiet need for stability. I didn't care much about the prestige. I just wanted to survive this school year without drawing attention to myself.
After changing into my normal clothes, I settled at the small desk in the corner and worked through my homework for the day. The soft scratching of my pen against paper filled the quiet room, broken only by the occasional hum of the fridge. Once I finished, I stood up, stretched, and grabbed the dinner I had tucked away earlier. The microwave beeped as it reheated the meal, the warm aroma slowly spreading through the room. I sat by the window while eating, watching the sky darken as the sun dipped below the horizon. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the floor. The meal wasn't anything fancy, but it felt comforting after a long day. Afterwards, I took a warm shower, the steam fogging up the small mirror. The sound of water rushing past my ears drowned out my thoughts, giving me a rare moment of peace. Once I was done, I settled back at the desk, flipping through my textbooks and reviewing notes for a couple of hours. Time slipped by quietly, the pages turning under the soft glow of the desk lamp. Eventually, my eyes grew heavy, so I switched gears and curled up on my bed with a book. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of pages and the rhythmic ticking of the clock. It wasn't an exciting evening by most standards, but for me, it was enough. Peaceful.
It had been a long day, so I went to bed early. The room, quiet and still, felt almost too empty, but I didn't mind. Someone else might look at me and think I was lonely—no chatter, no laughter, no one to talk to and I was bored, spending hours alone with nothing but schoolwork and books for company.
"but I was not…"
I can definitely say that I am used to being alone because of my middle school experiences.
***
It was a long, tiring day, the kind that drags on as if the sun itself were reluctant to set. Perhaps it was because I'm not used to living here. But when I finally crawled into bed, exhaustion washed over me like a heavy fog, and I fell asleep almost instantly. That's the first time I saw that dream.
That night, as darkness enveloped me, for the first time I crossed a threshold into a chilling dream—one that felt all too real. A shadowy figure seemed to whisper just beyond my reach, its presence lingering in the air. I can't remember clearly what happened next but It was a nightmare that stirred something deep inside, leaving me breathless.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night and feeling disoriented. Even though the dream felt real I didn't feel any difficulties after I woke up. I drank a glass of water to help myself calm down and went back to sleep after a while.
But the next morning, I had completely forgotten about the dream.
***
When I woke up the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, and it took me a moment to collect my thoughts. As I lay in bed, I realized that I had completely forgotten about the dream I had the night before. I noticed the empty glass next to my bed, so I knew something happened during the night. However, the details that might have lingered in my mind had slipped away like sand through my fingers, leaving no trace behind.
That's when I noticed the time -it's not the time to sit in bed- it's almost late. If didn't hurry up now I might actually be late. I didn't want that so I got up from the bed and washed up quickly. Then I had my breakfast – which is actually A half toasted slice of bread with butter and a packet of flavoured milk I bought yesterday from the school store. Then I changed into my uniform and left the dormitory.
On my way to school, I noticed Monaka and her group gathered on the sidewalk, animatedly chatting and laughing together. They seemed to be in high spirits, their voices full of joy as they made their way toward the school building, clearly excited for the day ahead. However, the truth is that I didn't feel like talking to them at that moment. Even if I wanted to say something to them, it felt impossible. I sometimes couldn't even manage a simple "good morning" to a person by myself without it becoming painfully awkward. Their voices echoed in the air, deep in the middle of a conversation that seemed so far from me, a world where I didn't belong. The thought of interrupting them felt wrong, so I turned away and used the shortcut I'd discovered yesterday to get to school. Even though It felt like I was just drifting through the day, invisible and alone I was relieved about it.
I arrived in class ahead of time, and the classroom was empty except for me. As I settled into my usual spot, I took the time to carefully arrange the books on my desk, ensuring everything was in order for the day's lessons and trying not to think about the group's energy. I was better off on my own Just as I finished, the door swung open, and Monaka along with her friends entered the room, their laughter filling the air, Monaka waved cheerfully at me and greeted me with a "Good morning." I gave a quiet, reserved "Good morning" in return. I could manage the basics, but beyond that, I don't know. After our exchange of greetings, they quickly fell into a lively conversation, chattering about everything from the latest school rumours to weekend plans. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and excitement, Despite the lively atmosphere, a sense of loneliness lingered as I watched them share their stories. I listened from the sidelines and From time to time, I offered comments or asked questions, but I was careful not to overstep any boundaries.
I told myself not to care, not to let anyone in. But when Monaka smiled at me, a flicker of something warm surged inside me—something I didn't know I still had. But I couldn't let it show. Couldn't let her see how much I wanted to let go.
The school day unfolded just like any other, with classes flowing by and the bell ringing to signal the end. The weeks passed in much the same manner, and I found myself spending time with Monaka and her group of friends now and then, As the weeks went on, Monaka and her friends made an effort to draw me in. I couldn't help but notice that they seemed to think I was part of their group now. Maybe I was.
Though the moments were scattered, fleeting. I appreciated their company, but something kept me from fully opening up, from letting myself believe it was a true friendship. I never let myself get too comfortable. Their laughter and shared moments were things I could observe from a distance, not participate in
Because I know better than anyone that—humans can't be trusted easily.
***
As the time flew like that mid-term exams also came closer. I wasn't in any club like others so I had plenty of time to study. I didn't even read the daily news or things like that because I never really needed to—just sitting near Monaka's friend group kept me updated on everything. They talked about everything and everyone. Not only that I had already covered all the five-year theories last year while I was at home, so the mid-terms felt like child's play to me. At some point, Monika and her group started pulling me into their discussions, mostly for study help. So before long I unexpectedly ended up teaching things to them. Then to others. Then to even more people... They didn't mind, and I didn't mind helping. It was the least I could do without getting too involved.
Even though I tried my best to blend into the background and avoid socializing, I somehow ended up becoming somewhat of a focal point in our year. It was frustrating because, while I didn't seek out attention, I became popular in our year as the smart, quiet girl. Kind, but cold. Funny, though, it was mostly because of my clumsiness.
But I didn't want attention. I didn't want to be at the centre of anything. I just wanted to get through this year as unnoticed as possible.
By the time midterms were over, everyone in our class had passed, with some credit given to my explanations. And, as expected, I ranked first.
***
From the first day to the second term, an unsettling feeling clung to me like I was haunted by nightmares lurking just beyond my consciousness. The chill of those memories crept into my thoughts a few times, but eventually, I forgot all about them.
***