Morning came like nothing was wrong.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains in neat, polite strips. Birds chirped somewhere outside, obnoxiously cheerful. My alarm went off at exactly the right time, as if the universe itself had decided to behave.
I stared at the ceiling.
"…Yeah. Sure."
Nothing about last night lingered except the faint ache behind my eyes and the uncomfortable certainty that something had watched me fall asleep.
I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed. The uniform was laid out neatly, as if it had always belonged here. Fit perfectly too. That should've bothered me more than it did.
Downstairs smelled like toast.
Actual toast.
Junpei was at the table, halfway through a plate that looked like it had been assembled with zero regard for nutrition. Yukari stood at the counter, arms crossed, tapping her foot while the toaster popped again.
"Morning," Junpei said through a mouthful. "You look alive. That's a good sign."
"I had higher standards for mornings," I replied, grabbing a cup.
Makoto sat quietly, already done eating. He glanced at me—just for a second—but his eyes lingered longer than necessary.
"You sleep?" he asked.
"Define 'sleep.'"
He nodded once, like that answered everything.
Mitsuru entered last, composed as ever.
She spoke. "Classes proceed as scheduled. Behave as you normally would."
I raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a challenge."
"It is," Yukari muttered.
The absurd part wasn't the conversation.
It was how normal it all felt.
No green moon. No shadows. No pressure crushing the air. Just school uniforms, schedules, and burnt toast.
As we stepped outside, the city looked… fine.
People walked. Cars moved. A cat sat on a fence, completely unconcerned with the secrets of reality.
I stopped walking.
Junpei noticed immediately. "What, forgot something?"
"No," I said slowly. "That's the problem."
They all turned to look at me.
"Yesterday," I continued, "the world stopped. People turned into coffins. Monsters walked around like they owned the place."
I gestured vaguely at the street. "Today, it's just… Tuesday."
Yukari shrugged. "Welcome to our lives."
"That's insane."
She smiled thinly. "Yeah."
At school, it got worse.
Teachers taught. Students complained. Someone tripped in the hallway and cursed loudly. A girl laughed too hard at something that wasn't funny.
Everything was aggressively mundane.
Like reality itself was overcompensating.
I sat at my desk, staring at the blackboard without seeing it.
If none of that mattered, I thought, then why did it feel so real?
A chill ran up my spine.
For just a fraction of a second, the reflection in the classroom window didn't move when I did.
I blinked.
Normal again.
My heart pounded.
From the front of the room, the teacher droned on about equations and exams.
I copied notes I didn't process, my pen moving on muscle memory alone. Around me, desks creaked. Pages turned. Someone sighed dramatically.
Normal.
Too normal.
My gaze drifted to the clock above the board.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
It bothered me more than it should have.
The second hand moved smoothly, confidently, like it had never stuttered in its life.
I glanced around.
Just students. Just noise. Just life going on as if it hadn't almost ended less than twelve hours ago.
How do they do it? I wondered.
How do you live like nothing is wrong when something clearly is?
My eyes flicked to Makoto's seat. He sat perfectly still, posture relaxed, expression neutral. But his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
He felt it too.
The bell rang, loud and sharp, and the class collectively exhaled. Chairs scraped back. Voices rose. The illusion of routine snapped back into place.
As I stood, a wave of dizziness hit me out of nowhere.
I gripped the edge of my desk until it passed.
"Hey."
Junpei was suddenly there, walking backward in front of me. "You good? You kinda went pale for a sec."
"Yeah," I said automatically. "Just… hungry."
"Cafeteria food'll fix that," he said, far too optimistically.
Yukari snorted from beside us. "Liar."
The hallway flooded with students. Lockers slammed. Someone shouted a name from across the floor. The noise pressed in from all sides, grounding and suffocating at the same time.
As we walked, my reflection followed me in the glass of the display cases.
This time, it stayed in sync.
I didn't relax.
Outside, clouds rolled lazily across the sky.
Too lazy.
I had the strange, creeping sense that the world was holding its breath.
Waiting.
And for the first time since waking up, a thought settled in my chest, heavy and unwelcome:
If last night was real…
Then this is the lie.