Ring! Ring!... Ring!—
The alarm blared like a fire drill on repeat, jarring the silence of the small hostel room. Lucas groaned, swinging his hand blindly across the nightstand until his fingers found the clock and silenced it with an annoyed smack.
He flopped over, burying half his face into the pillow. The warmth pulled him in like a siren's lull. Sleep, round two, was ready to begin.
But then a nagging thought crept in.
What time is it?
He groped around under the pillow until his fingers brushed the cold screen of his smartphone. Squinting against the sudden brightness, he forced his sleep-fogged eyes to focus.
8:50.
His brain stalled for a second.
Still ten minutes left, he thought with relief, shoving the phone back beneath the pillow.
He closed his eyes.
Then—click. The thought clicked.
"Ten minutes…" His voice cracked the stillness of the room. "There's only ten minutes left?! Sh*t!"
Adrenaline surged. He sprang upright like someone had poured ice water down his spine. No time for second-guessing. He had to move.
His first instinct was to throw on his uniform, grab his bag, and bolt. But the moment his gaze landed on the mirror by his desk, he froze.
His reflection stared back at him with half-lidded, sleep-glazed eyes. His hair was a wild disaster, shooting in every direction like he'd been struck by lightning.
"I look homeless." He clicked his tongue and dashed into the bathroom.
It wasn't much. Barely enough room to stretch both arms. The tiles were cracked in the corner, and the mirror had a thin layer of fog from countless rushed mornings—but it was his.
And for a scholarship student like him, a bathroom in a private hostel room was a luxury.
The cold splash of water slapped the drowsiness out of him. He brushed his teeth in record time, towel-dried his face, and tried to tame his hair into something that didn't scream "abandoned child of chaos." Ten minutes vanished in a blink.
Better to be late than look like a sleep-deprived gremlin, he told himself as he tugged on his tie and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.
He grabbed his bag, stuffed his phone into one pocket, keys in the other, and stormed out the door. The key clicked behind him as he locked up, and without missing a beat, he took off down the hallway.
The narrow corridor echoed with the thump of his hurried steps. As he reached the stairwell and grabbed the railing, his socked feet betrayed him. His legs slipped on the slick surface—momentary panic surged through his chest—but his grip held fast.
He caught himself mid-fall, heart pounding.
Not today. Not on my birthday.
He steadied himself, exhaled, then continued down the stairs with a bit more caution.
The main gate came into view as he passed through the hostel lobby. The old gatekeeper was already sweeping the entrance, wrapped in layers of threadbare clothing. His scarf obscured most of his face, only sharp eyes peeking through.
Lucas offered a breathless wave as he jogged past.
"Late again, huh," the old man muttered, mostly to himself, eyes following Lucas's retreating figure.
Woke up late, nearly face-planted down the stairs... yeah, Lucas thought, This birthday's off to a fantastic start.
As the school building loomed into view, Lucas finally slowed. He knew the rules—and more importantly, he knew the gatekeeper stationed outside the main entrance.
The man was a stickler for time and had a talent for chewing students out with military precision.
Lucas adjusted his bag strap, straightened his spine, and walked briskly toward the gate.
If he was going to get scolded anyway, he might as well face the music like a soldier heading to the front lines.
As Lucas neared the school gate, he noticed it was still wide open. A flicker of hope sparked in his chest.
Maybe… just maybe, I'm not that late.
He stepped into the long hallway. The tiled floor echoed faintly beneath his shoes, the soft tap of each footstep reminding him how eerily quiet it was. He glanced back, half-expecting the usual gatekeeper to be there with his stern face and scolding glare—but the area near the gate was completely empty.
Must be busy with something else, he guessed, quickening his pace.
The hallway stretched before him, lined with tall windows that poured in early sunlight, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. He finally reached his classroom and stopped in front of the door. Sweat clung to the back of his neck. He wiped it off with a frustrated swipe and took a deep breath.
I hope I'm not too late.
He gave the door a soft knock and waited. No response.
He stood still, imagining the teacher on the other side, arms crossed, lips pursed, probably thinking up a punishment to make an example of him. That thought wasn't half as bad as the idea of walking in and hearing the whole class chuckling behind their hands.
It wasn't like Lucas had crippling social anxiety—but being stared at like that? That was enough to make anyone squirm.
Who cares what they think, he reminded himself, straightening up before knocking again, a bit firmer this time.
Still nothing.
He frowned. Seriously? What's going on?
He knocked a third time, then sighed. Just how pissed is this guy? Come on, open it already!
His patience snapped. "Screw this," he muttered under his breath and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open.
The door creaked as it swung inward, and Lucas stepped inside—ready to be grilled on why he was late.
But… there was no one there.
The classroom was empty.
Totally, unnaturally empty.
Every desk was spotless. Not a single bag or book in sight. The blackboard looked like it had been wiped down just seconds ago, gleaming faintly under the light. There wasn't even the usual smell of chalk dust or ink lingering in the air.
What the hell?
Lucas stepped further in, scanning the room.
There's no way I missed an announcement or anything… right?
He pulled out his phone again. The date was correct. It wasn't the weekend. There weren't any notifications. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing about a holiday.
He backed out into the corridor, curiosity gnawing at him now.
Peeking through the narrow glass panel on the next classroom door, he found it empty as well. Another room—same result. One after the other, he moved along the hallway, glancing into every classroom.
Not a single person. No students. No teachers. Not even the janitors.
The first floor was utterly silent.
Lucas hesitated near the staircase. Should I check upstairs?
He stood there for a moment, then shook his head. Forget it.
Instead, he turned back, heading toward the main gate. Maybe someone from the school staff could explain what was going on. The gatekeepers or the office workers had to be around somewhere. There were always people on duty—always.
But now, the silence was starting to feel wrong. Like something was off.
Like something was missing.
This place feels like it's under curfew... he thought, picking up his pace a little.
Trying to break the creeping tension in his gut, he smirked to himself.
Heh… wild if this turned out to be a zombie apocalypse or something.
But even his attempt at humor felt hollow, swallowed up by the oppressive quiet that blanketed the entire school grounds.
Lucas stepped out of the school building and into the open courtyard. The wind brushed against his cheeks, carrying the scent of cut grass and something faintly metallic in the air—like distant rain or iron. As he neared the main gate, he slowed to a stop.
Even from here, he could see it clearly.
Nobody was there either.
Not a single soul.
Did I just jinx it with that zombie apocalypse comment? he thought, a crease forming on his brow. He tried to smirk, but the unease beneath his skin was starting to settle in deeper.
Come on, even if there was some kind of outbreak or emergency, the world wouldn't just go quiet like this. He tried to rationalize it. The military, the media, the internet—something would've gone off.
Humanity was a force now. Centuries ago, maybe it would've crumbled under nature's wrath or a beast's roar. But today? Humanity stood at the top.
There was barely anything—at least on Earth—that could threaten its very existence anymore.
Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic… Extinction? Seriously? Lucas shook his head and turned his gaze back toward the dorm building.
The gatekeeper at the hostel. He's always around. Maybe he knows what's going on.
This time, he didn't rush. There was no point. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement as he let his thoughts wander.
The idea of today being a holiday was becoming more and more convincing. And honestly, he wouldn't mind that.
It's my birthday, after all. Seventeen today…
He didn't really feel like celebrating. Not that there was anyone who would. He wasn't a complete loner—he had friends—but none close enough to remember his birthday. Being an orphan had a way of keeping people at arm's length. No family dinners, no homemade cake, no phone calls from parents or siblings.
Just another day. Just another year.
Even so, a dull ache tugged at the edges of his chest. A quiet longing he didn't like to acknowledge. He told himself it didn't matter. But deep down, it did.
One more year until I'm officially an adult, he thought, bitterly amused. Can't wait to spend that day alone too.
He glanced up as the dormitory came into view. The front gate was open, just like the school's. The gatekeeper—an old man with a weathered face and eyes that always seemed half-asleep—was sitting on a wooden chair under the shade of the overhang.
Lucas relaxed a little at the familiar sight.
The old man looked up and smiled faintly as Lucas approached.
Lucas returned the smile. "Uncle, is it a holiday today? There's no one in the school at all."
The old man didn't speak right away. He folded his hands over his lap, still smiling. Then, after a long pause, he parted his cracked lips and spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
"Wake up, child. You're dreaming."
The words hit Lucas like a cold slap. His smile vanished. He blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
"…What?"
His mind reeled. Dreaming? What's he talking about?
And then, a sharp realization struck him.
Wait… isn't the gatekeeper supposed to be middle-aged?
He looked at the man again, really looked. The wrinkles were too deep, the hands too brittle. The voice wasn't right. And yet… he was familiar in a way Lucas couldn't explain.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Who is this man?
More importantly—what did he mean?
The questions piled up, fast and heavy, until one rose to the surface. It wasn't heavy. It was horrifying.
My name...
My name isn't Lucas.
He staggered back a step, confusion washing over him like a tidal wave. That's not right. That's not my real name. I have another name… don't I?
His breath caught in his throat. He knew it. The name was right there, just out of reach—teasing him at the edge of his memory.
But the more he tried to recall it, the more it slipped away, like smoke through his fingers.
His hands trembled. His knees felt weak.
Why can't I remember…?
The old man stood slowly. His face seemed to shift in the corner of Lucas's vision—becoming something else. Something not quite human.
And when he spoke again, his voice no longer belonged to an old man. It rang out in a haunting, androgynous tone—ancient and vast, echoing with something unearthly.
"The prophecy must be fulfilled."
The world around Lucas blurred.
The ground vanished beneath his feet.
And then—
Darkness.