It was finally Monday.
Zhane stood before the towering walls of the prestigious Pristine High Institute, his breath hitching slightly at the grandeur laid out before him. The school looked nothing like the faded, graffiti-riddled buildings he was used to passing on the way to his part-time jobs. No, this was different—almost unreal.
The entrance gates alone looked like something carved from a royal estate, tall and metallic with gold-trimmed edges and an elaborate crest in the center that read "Sapientia, Lux, et Fortitudo" — Wisdom, Light, and Strength. The landscaping was flawless: emerald green hedges trimmed like puzzles, fountains that danced with water in perfect rhythm, and a cobbled driveway so clean it shimmered in the morning sun.
Students strolled across the premises like they belonged in fashion magazines. Designer shoes clicked against the marble-tiled courtyard. Laughter echoed from small clusters of students dressed in crisp school uniforms that looked like they had been tailored to fit their personalities.
Zhane swallowed.
He had decided to head to the school early to present himself in accordance with the message he received. He hadn't told his uncle yet. That confrontation would come later—when he was finally ready to leave the house behind and start fresh.
For now, this place was his new beginning.
Zhane wore a clean but modest outfit: a navy blue hoodie slightly faded at the sleeves, a white tee underneath, baggy dark jeans, and simple brown sandals. Clothes he had managed to piece together from his savings, stretching every coin he'd earned over the past months. It wasn't glamorous, but it was neat. Presentable.
As he stepped through the gates, he couldn't help but marvel at the opulence surrounding him. Trees lined the path to the main building, their leaves a vibrant green.
Birds chirped harmoniously as if rehearsed. Students loitered beneath the shade of cherry blossom trees, some taking selfies, others rehearsing lines or songs. He even noticed a girl doing a short dance video for social media, a ring light balanced on her backpack.
He spotted a girl with caramel skin and box braids standing near a bench, tapping on her phone with nails painted in glittering gold.
"Sorry, excuse me," Zhane approached, his voice soft but audible. "Please, can you tell me where the admission hall is?"
The girl paused and turned, her dark eyes scanning him from head to toe. Zhane felt her gaze linger on his sandals for a moment longer than necessary.
"Go straight," she said, brushing a braid from her face. "You'll see a hallway lined with glass trophies. Turn left after that. The signboard is hard to miss."
"Okay, thanks," Zhane replied, offering a small smile.
The girl tilted her head slightly. "Are you here under a scholarship?"
Zhane blinked, surprised. "Yes... why?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she scoffed under her breath and turned away quickly, her pace increasing as she walked off.
Zhane furrowed his brow.
What was that about? he wondered. Maybe she was just in a hurry, or maybe... well, he didn't have the time to care.
He turned and followed her directions, stepping into the main hallway. The air changed instantly. Cooler. Polished. Almost sacred.
The corridor was lined with tall glass trophy cases, showcasing gleaming awards and medals. Each plaque bore names etched in gold, academic and creative accomplishments stretching back decades.
Zhane stared at them for a moment, entranced. The trophies glistened in the soft glow of overhead lights, and for the first time in forever, he felt a strange sense of hope.
But that moment was short-lived.
Someone nudged him hard from behind, pushing him slightly to the side.
"Outta the way, punk," a commanding voice growled.
Zhane staggered a step, catching himself before falling. He turned slightly, just in time to catch the guy's glare. Tall. Built. Clad in a school blazer that looked like it cost more than Zhane's entire wardrobe.
Before Zhane could mutter an apology, pain stung the center of his head like a splitting migraine.
"What a prawn. He's lucky I'm in a hurry," the voice echoed.
But the boy's mouth hadn't moved.
Zhane's eyes widened.
His thoughts. He'd just heard his thoughts.
The nurse. The hospital. It was happening again.
Tension knotted in his chest. He walked away quickly, dodging shoulders and carefully avoiding eye contact. His head dipped low. He didn't want to hear anyone's thoughts. Not here. Not now.
What he didn't know was that a pair of eyes had locked on him from across the hallway.
★---
Celine and her friends had just exited the school cafe, heading to the stairway that led to the upper classroom halls. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the marble floor.
Suddenly, the buzz of the hallway changed.
Whispers.
Then laughter.
Then a strange kind of silence.
Students shifted.
Someone was walking through them.
Celine stopped in her tracks.
Her instincts sharpened.
She didn't turn right away. But something deep in her chest pulled her attention to the hallway behind her.
Footsteps echoed—soft but deliberate.
It wasn't the usual chaos of morning hustle. These footsteps felt... reluctant. Gentle. Like someone who didn't want to be noticed but somehow couldn't help attracting attention.
Her fingers tensed around her designer handbag strap.
"Celine?" Cindy's voice floated up beside her.
But Celine remained quiet.
Slowly, like a scene in slow motion, she turned.
There he was.
Zhane.
He wore a navy blue hoodie, simple jeans that clung loosely to his frame, and brown sandals that creaked softly with each step. No brand names. No polished leather. Just raw, unbothered simplicity.
But it wasn't the outfit that caught her breath.
It was the way he moved.
Silent.
Shadowed.
Like he didn't want to exist.
His head was bent. He didn't look at anyone. His shoulders slightly hunched forward like someone used to shrinking away from attention.
Celine's heartbeat skipped a note.
He walked past me... again. Like I'm invisible. Is he insane?! she thought.
She stared, unable to tear her gaze from him.
Her heart thudded louder with every step he took away from her.
Her lips parted, as if to speak...
But Zhane never looked back.
Just like yesterday.
Just like the dream.
"Hey!" Cathy called out, twirling a red lollipop in her mouth. Her pink-streaked hair bounced with the motion.
Celine raised a hand, stopping her.
"Let him go," she whispered.
Cindy and Cathy exchanged puzzled glances.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And even they could feel it now.
Celine started walking again, her steps quicker, her expression unreadable.
But inside, her mind was a storm.
Why does he feel so familiar?
She didn't have the answer.
Not yet.
But she intended to find out.
---