She gets back home as fast as possible. The memory still burns vividly in her mind. Her cheeks feel hot, a lingering warmth refusing to dissipate. She rushes into her room, flings her bag onto the desk, and dashes into the bathroom. Cold water splashes against her face, again and again, in an effort to suppress the overwhelming emotions. Even at dinner, she remains distracted, the scene replaying in her mind. At the dining table, her parents notice her unusual behavior. Her chopsticks idly push at her rice, never truly picking up a bite. Her mother clears her throat.
"What's wrong with you today? You're barely eating."
The sudden question jolts her out of her thoughts. She quickly shakes her head, responding too fast.
"N-nothing at all."
She hastily finishes her meal and rushes upstairs, leaving her bewildered parents exchanging puzzled glances. Dropping into her chair, Pearl presses both hands to her face, willing herself to erase the lingering image from her mind. Her gaze flicks to her backpack - only to realize that her keychain is missing from the zipper.
Startled, she jumps up, grabbing her bag and frantically inspecting it from all angles. Worry creeps into her chest as she furrows her brows, scanning the desk and floor, searching left and right. She clenches her teeth and mutters, "Where's my keychain? I know I clipped it onto my bag. Oh my god, could it be…"
Then, the memory floods back - the chaotic moment when she gathered her fallen belongings earlier. She must have missed it in the rush. Exhaling sharply, she rubs her temples and tugs at her hair. Tomorrow is the weekend, meaning she won't be able to return to school. And with Sunday night approaching, the mysterious bus ride looms closer. Feeling helpless, she pulls out her phone and messages Michelle - her closest friend aside from Trevor. Michelle has been absent from school for days, but Pearl doesn't know why. She had planned to visit her house, but time never permitted. She tries calling Michelle. The phone rings - no answer. She texts but no reply. Checking Facebook, she finds that Michelle hasn't been active since her absence. A wave of unease grips her.
"What's up with her today? Won't even check my messages?"
While Pearl quietly complains about her friend, the other side of the phone sits abandoned in a pitch-black house, devoid of light. Blood stains streak the walls along the hallway. The phone's screen glows brightly, ringing persistently in a pool of crimson. Gradually, the ringing fades. A shadow stands before the vibrating device, gripping a blood-streaked knife still wet at the edges. Eyes devoid of emotion, the figure stares at the illuminated screen, watching as droplets of blood trickle down the blade, blotting out the missed call notification. With a deliberate motion, they pick up the phone - then hurl it hard against the wall, shattering it into pieces.
Sunday. The clock strikes precisely 10 PM. The city lights flicker on, casting an eerie glow over the silent streets. Only the distant barking of dogs disturbs the night's hush. The wind whispers through the trees, rustling the leaves with an unsettling murmur. Tonight, the moon gleams in perfect fullness. Dressed in her school's sports uniform, Pearl slings her backpack over her shoulder and tiptoes down the hallway. The door to her parents' bedroom is ajar, a warm golden light seeping through the crack. She pauses, puzzled.
"Why is their door open tonight?"
Carefully, she inches closer. Peering through the gap, she finds them fast asleep. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as she gently shuts the door. She pulls a folded note from her pocket and places it on the dining table. Then, using a spare key, she unlocks the back door. The moment it swings open, she slips outside, quietly shutting and locking it behind her before weaving through the garden toward the front gate.
Upon reaching the entrance, she halts abruptly. A tall figure stands nearby, clad in the same school sports uniform. As that person steps into the light, she catches the sharp profile of their face - and her breath hitches. He is Tate! Her heart pounds wildly at the unexpected sight. The shock rattles her voice, leaving it shaky.
"W-why are you here?"
Tate turns, his expression unreadable, his voice steady.
"The meeting point is near your house. Thought I'd wait so we could go together. It's late - let's go."
Without another word, he strides forward, not waiting for her. Overwhelmed by joy, Pearl stands frozen for a second, then quickly locks the gate and hurries after him. The two walk down the deserted street. Stealing glances at Tate, Pearl feels her heart hammer against her ribs, warmth creeping up her face. She has admired him for nearly two years - since the day she stepped into the school gates and first saw the boy who shone like the sun. His radiant smile had made countless girls swoon, yet none had ever won his heart. She had waited, contemplating when would be the right time to confess, but fear held her back. If he knew she liked him, his cold demeanor would likely lead to rejection, and their friendship would never be the same. It was a game where the outcome was already determined. Everyone wishes to be the chooser - but in reality, they often become the imperfect choice in someone else's eyes.
The time for answers has not yet arrived. The night breeze whispers, carrying a crisp chill. Waves crash violently against the shore, sending sprays of salt into the air. The two continue walking. Tate soon notices Pearl sneaking glances at him, her movements fidgety and restless. With an amused smirk, he asks.
"Are you nervous?"
"Ah no, I am not…" Caught off guard, Pearl stammers, her voice shaky and flustered.
"You really are nervous. Look at you, you're shaking."
Pearl blinks in surprise. It's the first time she has heard him laugh aloud in front of her. She forces a weak smile, but deep inside, she feels like burying herself in embarrassment. Her voice drops to a murmur.
"Okay. Maybe just a little. Just a little!"
"Really?"
"Really! And it's not because of the trip."
"Hmm? Then could it be."
"Oh look, we're almost there! Let's hurry!" Pearl blurts out, abruptly picking up her pace.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question!" Tate calls after her, chasing to keep up.
As their conversation trails off, they finally arrive at the designated meeting point - the Forbidden River on the western edge of the city. It marks the boundary between realms, the final frontier before the end of civilization. The river has been off-limits for decades. Tall barriers and guard posts once ensured that no one crossed its threshold. Because once someone is swallowed by the waters, they are lost forever - body and soul. Yet, for some reason, there are no barricades tonight. No sentries in the watchtowers. From a distance, they spot others who have gathered.
Standing by the shore are Tate and Pearl, a wealthy married couple adorned in pristine white tracksuits and dripping in expensive jewelry. Beside them, two young women in flashy sportswear, engrossed in capturing selfies from every angle. The four radiate a lively energy, contrasting sharply against the lone figure at the edge - an elegant woman in a long dress, holding an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She stands tall in leather boots, eyes fixed on the distant sea, her expression unreadable. Pearl and Tate silently observe the waves, the chill of the night wind caressing their youthful faces. A gust ruffles Pearl's hair, the strands tangling in the breeze. Seeing this, Tate instinctively reaches out, tucking her hair behind her ear. Startled, she turns only to lock eyes with him. She is trapped, drawn into the depths of his gaze. Something about it - dark, hypnotic, like a black dahlia - pulls her in, ensnaring her without warning. The moment lingers, but is swiftly shattered.
The wealthy couple strides forward, intruding into their quiet exchange, carelessly forcing them apart. Startled, they step back. The husband - a portly man - wraps his arms around his frail, skeletal wife, glancing back at Pearl and Tate with a smirk, laced with thinly veiled disdain.
"Little kids still wet behind the ears, joining this trip and showing off their romance? How amusing."
His wife sighs, her voice flat.
"Let them be, dear. They're young and foolish. We shouldn't waste our time. Tonight marks our five-year wedding anniversary, after all."
"Ah, you're right! Come, my love, let's leave the childish ones to their fantasies."
He throws his head back in laughter, his wife weakly mirroring his chuckles.
Pearl clenches her fists, irritation bubbling within her at the mockery. But just as she is about to retort, Tate smoothly pulls a small candy from his pocket, handing it to her.
"Here. Sometimes adults are more childish than us. Eat this - you might feel better."
She blinks, then takes the candy hesitantly. "Oh... thanks."
But before she can say anything more - a deep rumbling shakes the surface of the dark river. Every gaze snaps toward the water. Without warning, a heavy mist rises, swallowing the river in a ghostly veil. Through the thick fog, a bus slowly emerges from the abyss - the driverless entity rising from the eerily still waters. Its number - bold, blood-red "0" - glows like a fresh wound as it advances toward the shore.