The pages of the textbook were slightly curled at the edges, worn from use. Yuer stared at them, her gaze unfocused.
Her fingers rested on the wooden desk, gripping a ballpoint pen with a steadiness uncharacteristic of a fifteen-year-old student. The tip of the pen lightly tapped the paper, leaving a nearly perfect black dot.
Then, her gaze shifted ever so slightly.
Her fingers tapped the desk again, this time at a different angle.
——That wasn't her movement.
The ceiling fan hummed softly, circulating the warm air. The classroom was quiet, except for the low voice of the teacher explaining a math problem at the front. But in Yuer's mind, something was shifting.
A presence.
Like a ripple in still water, it pressed against her consciousness—not a voice, not a thought, but something weightier, something that did not belong to her.
She turned a page absentmindedly. A line of text in Japanese appeared.
「...?」
Her fingers froze.
She had never learned Japanese.
And yet, the words were not unfamiliar.
No—rather than familiarity, it felt like something dormant was stirring, as if her body knew the language even though her mind did not.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced at her classmates, ensuring no one had noticed her hesitation.
And deep within her mind, Takeda Ryūsei exhaled softly.
——She finally noticed.