Chapter 5: Sudden difference

It had been a week since the Hollow attack.

A week since Kairan had looked into its empty, glowing eyes. Since it had hesitated before him. Since something inside him had changed.

For the first few days, he barely left his dorm. Was it trauma? Sickness? He wasn't sure. He only knew that his body felt wrong.

When he finally returned to work, things weren't the same.

The usual insults, the mocking remarks from students—they had quieted.

Replaced by whispers.

"How the hell did he survive a Hollow attack?"

"No Gift, no combat experience, and he came out without a scratch?"

"Maybe the Hollow didn't see him as a threat. Maybe it just ignored him."

"Maybe… it wasn't trying to kill him in the first place."

That last whisper clung to him the most.

The truth was, most students didn't care about why the Hollow had hesitated. They were more interested in how he was still breathing.

Kairan didn't have an answer for them. He didn't even have one for himself.

And yet, despite the rumors, despite the paranoia growing around him, only one thing truly unsettled him.

Dante.

They hadn't spoken properly since that night.

Dante wasn't outright avoiding him—he still acknowledged him in passing, nodded once or twice. But there was distance now. A cold, unreadable caution in his gaze.

Kairan wasn't stupid.

Dante was watching him.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.

But Kairan felt it. Every time he moved, every time he entered a room, Dante's gaze followed.

Not with curiosity. Not with anger.

With suspicion.

It gnawed at him in the back of his mind, coiling in his gut like a sickness.

One evening, as Kairan was heading toward the janitor's closet, he heard footsteps behind him. Slower than normal. Deliberate.

When he turned around, Dante was there.

He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Kairan exhaled sharply. "You following me now?"

Dante didn't answer right away. His eyes flickered—not at Kairan, but at his posture. His stance. The way he moved.

Finally, he spoke.

"You look fine."

Kairan raised an eyebrow. "…Yeah? So?"

"You shouldn't."

Something about the way he said it—calm, measured—put Kairan on edge.

"You were barely able to stand a week ago," Dante continued. "Now you're walking around like nothing happened."

"Would you rather I crawl?"

Dante's jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remained even. "I'd rather know what the hell is going on with you."

Kairan held his gaze. "Nothing's going on."

A silence stretched between them.

Dante didn't believe him.

But he didn't press further.

Instead, he pushed himself off the wall, brushing past him. But as he passed, he muttered just loud enough for Kairan to hear—

"I don't know what I'm expecting anymore."

Then he was gone.

Kairan stood there, staring at the empty hallway ahead of him.

Something about those words bothered him more than they should have.

Things didn't just feel off.

They looked off.

Kairan noticed it first when he checked out of work one evening, heading toward the supply closet to put everything away. He grabbed a spray bottle, aimed it at the floor, and squeezed the trigger.

The mist of water sprayed out—

And he saw it.

Every single droplet.

Not as a blur. Not as a flash of motion.

But individually.

Suspended midair, twisting and turning as they caught the light.

His breath caught.

He blinked—and suddenly, everything returned to normal. The water hit the ground. The moment passed.

A sharp ache pierced through his skull.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his temple.

"What the hell…"

He staggered slightly, gripping the edge of the supply shelf for support. His pulse wasn't racing, but his mind was.

Had that been an illusion? A trick of the light? Or something else?

This wasn't the first time. He had been seeing details too clearly all week—tiny scratches on the walls, the way light refracted through glass, the flicker in people's eyes before they spoke.

And now… this.

His hands felt clammy. He clenched them into fists.

He needed sleep.

But that night, he dreamed.

At first, it was normal. He was at the academy, walking the halls. Cleaning, like always.

Then he realized—there was no one else there.

No students. No voices.

Only silence.

The lights flickered above him. The shadows stretched long and jagged against the walls.

Then, he noticed.

The walls were breathing.

Moving. Pulsing. Like something alive was beneath them.

A weight settled in his chest. He turned a corner—

And there it was.

The Hollow.

The same one from the lecture hall.

It stood at the far end of the corridor, its empty, glowing eyes fixed on him.

It didn't attack.

It just… watched.

He took a step back—but the floor beneath him vanished.

Gravity shattered.

The academy ripped apart, peeling away like paper, revealing an endless black abyss.

He fell.

No wind. No air. No ground.

Only emptiness.

Only silence.

Then—a voice.

It wasn't human.

It wasn't coming from the Hollow.

It wasn't even coming from inside his own head.

It whispered directly into his bones.

"You are awake."

Kairan's throat clenched. His breath was shallow. He tried to look around, find the source, but there was nothing.

Only shifting shadows.

Only unseen shapes moving in the dark.

"You have felt it, haven't you?"

The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It pressed against his very existence.

His pulse hammered.

"Who are you?"

A pause.

Then—a laugh.

Not one voice. A thousand voices overlapping. Some deep, some distorted, some too close to his own.

"That is not the question you should be asking."

Kairan tried to move. He couldn't. His body wasn't his own.

The black abyss around him shifted.

There were things in the dark. Not close. Not near.

But above him. Beneath him. All around him.

Vast. Endless. Beyond comprehension.

And then—one of them moved toward him.

It reached for him.

And Kairan jerked awake.

His body lurched forward, breath ragged, sweat clinging to his skin.

The room was dark. Silent. But the air still felt heavy.

His fingers trembled as he touched his own arm—just to make sure he was still here. Still real.

The moment his palm pressed against his skin—

He felt it.

A faint, almost imperceptible hum.

The same feeling he had when the Hollow first looked at him.

Kairan swallowed.

Something was wrong.

And it wasn't just in his head anymore.