The sun burned, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was the kind of warmth that wraps around you like an embrace. Alan could feel the rhythmic sway of the wooden deck beneath his feet and the sharp scent of salt in the air. He wasn't at the university—he was in the middle of the ocean, aboard a ship that creaked with every wave.
Ahead of him, leaning against the railing, was her.
He couldn't make out her face clearly, but her hair… it was the most stunning thing Alan had ever seen: a cascade of pure gold, waving in the sea breeze, shining so brightly it almost hurt to look at. She wore a light white dress that clung to her form as she laughed at something he'd just said.
Alan reached out, longing to touch a strand of that golden hair. His heart pounded painfully in his chest—a mix of awe and an urgent need to protect her.
"Promise me you won't leave me," the woman whispered, her voice sweet as honey.
Before he could answer, the sky turned a violent red. The blue sea transformed into a thick, black tide of blood. The ship began to splinter, and her hair ignited, darkening as she screamed a name Alan couldn't decipher.
Alan woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He looked around. No sea, no ship, no golden hair—only the gray walls of his dorm room and the constant hum of the air conditioner. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hold onto the image of the blonde woman, but the dream slipped through his fingers like sand.
He grabbed his phone to check the time: 6:30 a.m.
A notification made him smile involuntarily:
Dayit (3:12 a.m.):
"If you're going to study late, at least remember to hydrate, future doctor. See you at the entrance of Building B. Don't be late."
Alan exhaled and locked his phone. The warmth he felt for Dayit was real, tangible, safe. Yet as he got up to shower, the image of the woman from his dream still hammered in his mind.
The cold water helped clear his head, though it couldn't erase the lingering ache in his chest. Alan pressed a hand against the tiles, taking deep breaths as water streamed over his neck and back.
It was just a dream, he told himself.
He had spent the previous day talking about legends, paintings, and vampire queens. His mind had simply done what it did best: mix absurd information with meaningless images.
That was all.
He dressed quickly and left the dorm, hair still slightly damp. The campus was starting to fill with students—laughter, overlapping conversations, hurried footsteps. Rancaster Central University awoke with the same impeccable calm as always, as if centuries of history buried beneath its foundations never existed.
Dayit waited at the entrance of Building B.
She wore dark jeans and a light blouse that contrasted with her black hair, casually pulled back. She held a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, completely absorbed—until she looked up.
"Right on time," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm impressed."
"I couldn't let you down on the second day," Alan replied with a half-smile.
Dayit handed him the coffee without hesitation.
"I ordered an extra. Figured you'd need it."
"Is that concern… or a disguised critique of my study habits?"
"Both," she said naturally, starting to walk. "Come on, or the professor will give us the death stare before class even begins."
They walked together toward the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. Alan noticed, without understanding why, that his pace synced with hers effortlessly, as if they had always walked this way.
"Sleep well?" Dayit asked casually.
"Yeah… sort of," he replied after a brief pause. "I guess I kept thinking about yesterday's story."
"I warned you—reading about the Queen never ends well," she teased. "That story has a way of sticking with you longer than necessary."
Alan chuckled softly.
"I don't think it's that bad. Just a weird dream."
Dayit nodded, not pressing further.
"As long as you don't start seeing ghosts in the hallways, you'll be fine."
They entered the classroom just as some students were taking their seats. Alan sat beside Dayit, resting his notebook on the desk. As the professor began speaking, he tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting to the memory of the sun over the sea… and the golden hair.
A faint dizziness made him blink. Ridiculous, he thought.
He rested his elbow on the desk and continued writing, forcing himself to stay present.
During the break, Dayit stepped out to take a call. Alan stayed seated, reviewing his notes, underlining lines he didn't remember writing so neatly. The quiet murmur of the empty classroom was oddly comforting.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for just a second.
Just to rest them.
The distant murmur of voices turned into a soft hum, almost like water lapping against the shore. Alan frowned and opened his eyes immediately.
The classroom was still there. The walls, the windows, the white fluorescent light.
He sighed.
"Great…" he murmured to himself. "Now I'm imagining sounds too."
When Dayit returned, she found him straightening up in his seat.
"You okay?" she asked, placing her phone on the desk.
"Yeah," Alan replied. "Just a little distracted."
"That shows," she said with a small smile. "But relax, it's only Monday."
Monday.
The word hit him heavier than it should. A whole week ahead.
The classes passed without incident. Afterwards, they walked to the cafeteria together. Alan listened as Dayit talked about an upcoming exhibition, nodded, responded when needed, but a part of his mind remained anchored elsewhere… to the persistent feeling of being watched from far away.
That night, back in his room, he collapsed onto the bed without turning on the light. Fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids.
It was just a dream, he repeated to himself.
He closed his eyes.
And the sea returned.
Not violently, not urgently. It returned as if it had always been there, waiting for him.