Vernis University – 08:00 AM
Geal pushed open the lecture hall door, his face sleep-deprived, hair a tangled mess like a bird's nest. His glasses slid down his nose, still misted with dew that he hadn't bothered to wipe. On his shoulder, a heavy canvas bag sagged with textbooks, papers, and sleepless nights, exuding the scent of old ink and stale coffee.
He chose his usual spot—by the window, where the morning sun quietly spilled in—sat down, pulled out a book… and immediately slumped forward, head down.
Not far behind, two rows back, a pair of eyes quietly observed him.
Lyre—a freshman from the Fine Arts department—was sketching. A girl with loosely curled chestnut hair and a sketchbook that seemed fused to her hand. Her pencil moved without pause, carving onto the paper the form of the dozing boy, sunlight glittering off his tousled hair through the glass.
"Forgot to button his collar again..." Lyre murmured, lips curling into a small smile. "Third time this week."
She tilted her head slightly, adjusting the lighting on her page, when—
"Sketching him in secret again?"
A deep voice from behind made her jolt. Lyre turned to see the half-amused, half-exasperated look of Lioren—a third-year psychology major. He held an iced coffee in one hand, a worn windbreaker draped loosely over his shoulder.
"It's not secret sketching," Lyre defended quickly. "I'm... doing visual notation. It's a form of practice."
Lioren took a seat, leaning his arm against the backrest. "Visual notation, huh? Sounds very artist-like. Planning to pay royalties to your... 'subject'?"
Lyre gave him a sideways glare, though her eyes sparkled with familiar amusement.
"What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have no class today?"
"No class, true." Lioren shrugged. "But there's entertainment. And two overly dramatic freshmen are the best entertainment I know."
The lecture bell rang like a whistle dragging everyone back to reality. Students settled in, and the professor walked in with a gradebook and a stern gaze.
---
10:30 AM – Break Time
In the canteen thick with the smell of baked goods and sugary drinks, Geal wrestled with a sandwich as dry and tough as cement. As he chewed, he glanced at his watch with obvious dissatisfaction.
A soft thump sounded. Lyre placed her lunch tray on the seat across from him.
"You still haven't figured out how to eat breakfast properly?"
Geal groaned, "Forgot to set the alarm. And breakfast is a slice of hell."
Lyre pushed a small lunch box toward him. "I made extra. Take it."
"You don't have to—"
"It's fine," Lyre cut him off, turning her face away, cheeks slightly pink. "It's just… if you faint in class from hunger, I'll get distracted."
A long yawn interrupted the conversation. Lioren sat down beside Geal, placing a soda on the table, his expression lazy.
"Adorable, really. Young love. Lunch boxes, blushing cheeks, and student hormones."
"Did you come here just to narrate our love life?" Lyre sighed.
"Nope. I came to witness the sandwich tragedy." Lioren pointed at Geal's destroyed lunch.
---
4:30 PM – End of Class
The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the long hallway, painting the tiled floor. Students flooded out of classrooms like a tidal wave, earbuds in, backpacks dragging, murmuring the final chatter of the day.
Geal walked while mumbling formulas to himself, one earbud loosely in.
"Geal!" Lyre called out, hurrying to catch up.
"Huh? What's up?"
"Lioren invited us to grab food. I'm inviting you. So now we're three."
"I still have a lab report..."
"If you don't come, I'll be super sad, you know."
A low voice echoed from a hallway pillar:
"Pizza. Fried chicken. Shaker fries. Giant soda. Can you resist?"
Geal looked at Lioren, then sighed. "...Fine, I'm in."
---
5:15 PM – Fast Food Joint Near Campus Gate
The small eatery glowed with soft yellow lights. Pop music flickered beneath the clatter of utensils. The smell of butter and cheese blended with bursts of laughter. Lyre munched on a chicken wing, eyes shining with simple happiness. Geal picked at his fries cautiously. Lioren, on the other hand, looked like he was dining at a luxury Italian restaurant, savoring pizza like fine wine.
"Sometimes..." Lioren said, leaning back and gazing at the ceiling, "I just wish life stayed like this. School, friends, fast food. No war, no blood, no life-or-death decisions. Just deadlines and homework."
Silence.
Then Lyre chuckled softly. "Me too."
Geal nodded, eyes gazing out the window. The city lights had started to blink on.
---
As they got ready to leave, Geal suddenly pulled a thick black book with faded gold trim from his bag.
"Anyone read this before?"
On the cover, ominous text read:
> The Blood Nocturne Chronicle
Lioren raised an eyebrow. Lyre frowned.
"Dark fantasy. Very heavy," Lyre said. "I read a few pages and dropped it. It's all corpses, demons, and scenes that feel like they peel the reader's skin off."
"Sounds great," Lioren said with a faint smile. "I like those stories. Especially the ones that tear off humanity's mask."
Geal opened the book. The first page showed an illustration: a long-haired boy standing in ashes, eyes cold as steel.
Beneath it read:
> Lioren – The One Who Bears Four Elements and the Nameless Shadow
"What a coincidence..." Geal murmured.
Lioren took the book and flipped a few pages. A small smile tugged at his lips. His eyes drifted into the distance.
"Sometimes..." he said quietly, "what we read... is what we've forgotten."
"Here we go with the philosophy again," Lyre muttered.
"Maybe." Lioren shrugged.
The last light of day spilled over the book's cover, and for a moment... something long asleep stirred quietly in their minds.
That evening, after a long day, each returned to their own home.
Lyre entered her room and let out a small sigh, as if shaking off the day's weight. She headed straight for the bathroom, letting warm water run over her lightly curled hair, washing away the grime and sweat. Afterward, in soft, comfortable clothes, she placed her sketchbook on the desk by the window. Gentle yellow light illuminated the white page, and her pencil began moving again, tracing new shapes born from the emotions blooming in her heart.
---
Lioren took a different path. After a quick shower, he headed upstairs to a neatly arranged desk, bookshelves filled to the brim beside it. He pulled The Blood Nocturne Chronicle from his bag, placed it on the table, and sat down. A bright desk lamp lit up the pitch-dark pages, soaked in tales of horror and despair. He read silently, eyes blinking occasionally, as if being drawn deeper into that world—a world not so different from his own soul.
---
Geal was far simpler. When he got home, he tossed his backpack onto the sofa, stretched wearily, and went straight to the bathroom. Cold water jolted his tired body awake. When he stepped out, hair still damp, he slung a towel over his shoulders and grabbed the TV remote.
The screen buzzed with the cold tone of the evening news:
> "This week, 10 Class D and 15 Class E Gates were successfully closed. Once again, the Bullmut Guild proves its effectiveness in controlling anomalies near the city. Coordination among fighters is bringing renewed hope…"
Geal stared blankly at the screen.
"It's been... what, over 50 years since the Gates appeared," he mumbled, voice heavy. "And we're still calling it 'renewed hope'…"
He didn't wait for the broadcast to end. With a sigh, he reached out and turned off the TV. Silence returned, broken only by the soft light from the ceiling above.
Geal slowly walked upstairs, pulled out his chair, and opened his laptop. A pile of theoretical assignments awaited.
And once again, reality drowned out all daydreams with formulas and deadlines.