That Morning, the Classroom Was Only Half Alive
Morning sunlight streamed in through the tall windows on the left side of the room, reflecting off the slightly dull ceramic floor. Light blue curtains fluttered gently in the breeze, producing a soft, repetitive srek… srek… sound.
Some students were already seated at their desks—some yawning without bothering to cover their mouths, some hunched over their phones, others lying face-down on their desks, pretending to sleep before the bell rang.
Zeydan sat in his seat, middle row, near the window.
He leaned back lazily, one leg stretched slightly forward. His charcoal-black uniform jacket was left open—the top two buttons undone as usual. His black tie with gray-blue stripes hung a bit crooked over a slightly wrinkled dark gray shirt. A black sling bag hung from the side of his chair, its strap looped around the backrest.
He stared blankly ahead.
(It's still morning… but I already feel ridiculously lazy.)
His chest rose and fell slowly. Ever since yesterday, something had felt different—
like a shadow that never truly left.
Inside his head, that presence was still there.
Zeydan let out a small breath and spoke without moving his lips much.
"Shadow," he murmured quietly, nearly drowned out by the sound of another student dragging a chair.
"Can I ask you something?"
Silence—for a fraction of a second.
Then the voice appeared—low, relaxed, like someone leaning against a wall with a crooked smile.
"Oh, of course you can," Shadow replied lightly, almost teasing.
"But I'll answer according to what I remember."
Zeydan swallowed. His fingers, which had been resting on the edge of the desk, tightened slightly.
"So… what element are you, actually?"
Inside his mind, it felt like someone chuckled softly—not a loud laugh, but a knowing breath of amusement.
"Hmmm…" Shadow sounded thoughtful.
"Maybe I've told you before. Or maybe I haven't."
Zeydan closed his eyes briefly, his brows knitting together.
"So?"
"My element isn't fixed," Shadow finally said.
"Because I'm the result of a fusion of all elements."
Zeydan opened his eyes slowly. His gaze shifted to the window, to the pale morning sky.
"A fusion… of all elements?" he repeated softly.
"How is that even possible?"
There was a pause.
This one was longer.
"It's a long story," Shadow answered, his tone lowering—no longer playful.
"And I don't want to tell it."
Zeydan fell silent.
His fingers relaxed. His shoulders dropped slightly.
"Oh…" he said simply.
"I see."
No further response followed. Shadow chose to remain quiet, deliberately letting the empty space hang.
Then—
the classroom door opened.
Krek.
Several heads turned reflexively.
Footsteps echoed—soft but firm—tak… tak… tak…—moving into the classroom. Zeydan glanced toward the door.
A female student walked in.
She wore a neat navy-blue blazer, the top button left open. Her gray skirt fell just at knee length, swaying gently with each step. Shoulder-length wavy blonde hair caught the morning light.
And most striking of all—dark sunglasses covered her eyes, sharply contrasting with the bright classroom.
She didn't hesitate. Her steps were straight, calm—directly toward Zeydan.
A few students whispered quietly among themselves.
Zeydan blinked when her shadow stopped right beside his desk.
"Zeydan."
Her voice was clear. Confident.
Zeydan looked up, one brow lifting slightly. He tilted his head, studying her face behind the sunglasses.
"Who are you?" he asked honestly, without mockery.
The girl smiled faintly.
With two fingers, she slowly lowered her sunglasses.
A faint white glow lit up.
In her right eye—
a glowing X-shaped symbol was clearly visible, sharp and vivid, like living light etched into her gaze.
"Oh," Zeydan muttered instinctively. His lips curved.
"Mireya."
Mireya pushed the sunglasses back up. A small smirk formed at the corner of her lips.
"So you don't recognize me just because I'm wearing sunglasses?" she said lightly—but with a subtle sting.
Zeydan shrugged a little, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Because when you wear those… you look like a completely different person."
Mireya chuckled softly. Her shoulders lifted slightly, her blonde hair swaying.
"Hehehe…" She crossed her arms briefly.
"I'm wearing these on purpose—to hide the X symbol in my right eye."
"Ohhh," Zeydan nodded lightly.
"I see."
Mireya leaned forward a little, looking down at Zeydan through her sunglasses, then stepped back.
"Alright then," she said casually.
"I'm going to sit at my seat."
She turned and walked away, posture straight, steps calm.
"After break," she added without looking back,
"let's go to the cafeteria. There are a few things I want to talk about."
Zeydan watched her back for a few seconds until Mireya sat down at her own desk.
His chest felt… strange.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Just… different.
(Why does it feel like there's a slight pressure in my chest…?)
Inside his head, Shadow spoke again—this time clearly teasing.
"You like Mireya?"
Zeydan jerked upright instinctively. His face heated up.
"No!" he blurted out—too loud.
The sound echoed across the classroom.
Several students turned immediately. Some raised their eyebrows. Others stifled laughter. Mireya turned from her seat too—her gaze, hidden behind the sunglasses, fixed straight on Zeydan with a puzzled expression.
Zeydan froze.
Oh no…
His face flushed red. He quickly lowered his head, covering his mouth with one hand.
Inside his head, his voice turned sharp.
"Shadow," he hissed.
"Don't talk unless I allow you to."
Silence.
No laughter.
No sarcastic reply.
Shadow truly went quiet.
The school bell hadn't rung yet.
---
The Hallway Outside the Classroom Felt Strange—Too Quiet, Yet Too Crowded
The long, pale ceiling reflected the glow of humming neon lights—zzzz…—mixed with footsteps, soft laughter, and the scraping of dragged bags. Classroom doors lined the hallway neatly, some fully open, others half-closed.
In front of one of the classrooms stood a man.
His black suit fell perfectly straight, immaculate—without a single unnecessary crease. The white shirt beneath was fully buttoned to the collar, no tie. His red hair was slicked back—not flashy, but distinct enough to set him apart. One hand rested in his coat pocket, his posture relaxed, as if he were merely an audience member watching a play.
Yet something was wrong—
not a single student noticed him.
Students passed straight through his position, walking by without a glance. Some nearly brushed his shoulder—then paused briefly, confused, before continuing on, as if they had just avoided something they weren't consciously aware of.
The man turned his head slightly toward the classroom door. His eyes narrowed faintly.
(Hmm… they say this school has five Wardens.)
(I've seen four.)
(But the last one…)
The corner of his lips shifted subtly—not a smile, but cold interest.
He stepped to the right.
His movement was slow, silent. His leather shoes touched the floor in a restrained rhythm—tak… tak…—matching the hum of the lights.
At that moment, a male student walked toward him from the opposite direction.
The boy had long, pale-yellow hair falling past his uniform collar. Thin glasses rested on his nose. He hugged several books to his chest, shoulders slightly hunched—a posture of someone used to making himself small.
When they were only a few steps apart—
The student looked up.
Their gazes met.
The boy's step faltered for a fraction of a second. His eyes widened faintly behind the lenses, brows knitting—not in shock, but… awareness.
The red-haired man stopped.
(He noticed me.)
A slow breath left him. His hand remained in his pocket, but his shoulders tensed slightly—a subtle reaction, barely visible.
The student said nothing. He simply bowed his head quickly and walked past, quickening his pace toward a classroom at the end of the hall.
But before he reached it—
Several other students blocked his path.
"Hey, where're you going?"
"That's a lot of books."
"Hey, glasses—lend them to me."
Someone shoved his shoulder. His books slipped from his arms, hitting the floor with dull sounds—thud—tak—tak. Papers scattered.
The blond-haired student crouched quickly, his hands trembling as he gathered his books. His face stayed lowered, jaw clenched, holding something back.
The man in the black suit stopped a few steps away.
He turned his head slightly.
His eyes were flat.
No change in expression.
No step forward.
No intention to intervene.
The hallway remained noisy—but to him, the sound felt distant.
(I've already found all the Wardens in this school.)
He walked on, passing the group without looking back. His black coat swayed lightly with his movement.
Behind him, faint laughter and mockery blended once more with the hum of the lights.
The red-haired man disappeared at the end of the corridor—
like a shadow that never truly existed,
yet had already confirmed everything.