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墨書 Inktalez
The next day during lunch break, by the basketball court, the sun made the plastic track feel a bit hot.
Chen Shuo sat in the corner, holding a bottle of mineral water, his gaze unfocused.
"Hey, Shuo," I walked over and sat down beside him. "Do you remember last summer when we practiced here every day? Your three-point shot was amazing."
He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes blank. After a few seconds, he let out a single syllable: "Oh."
"And that manga you were chasing before? The latest chapter is out, and the main character..."
"I forgot," he interrupted me, his voice flat and devoid of any inflection.
I tightened my grip on the water bottle.
"Chen Shuo," I lowered my voice and leaned closer to him, "are you... are you in 'The Last Classroom'..."
As soon as I said "classroom," his fingers tightened around the bottle, producing a faint cracking sound. A slight tremor flickered in his pupils before vanishing, but his face remained expressionless.
"Nothing," he muttered, looking down and avoiding my gaze.
The air was filled only with distant sounds of basketballs bouncing and cicadas chirping. I watched him, my throat tightening.
After school, I once again made my way to the top floor of the westernmost teaching building.
The hallway was quieter than last time, and the light was dimmer. The closed wooden door stood at the end of the corridor.
I approached step by step. The smell of disinfectant mixed with sweet chemical agents seeped through the crack in the door, seeming even stronger than before, filling my nostrils and making my chest feel heavy.
Just as I leaned in to listen closely, a cold voice came from behind me:
"Zhou Ran?"
I froze and turned around abruptly.
The disciplinary director, Wang Yan, stood just a few steps behind me, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes behind the glasses were devoid of warmth as they fixed on me intently. The light in the hallway cast shadows on his face, adding an eerie severity to his unsmiling expression.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was low but carried an undeniable sense of pressure.
"I... I was just wandering around," my heart raced.
"Wandering around?" Wang Yan's lips curled into a cold smile that held no warmth whatsoever. "This is not a place for you."
He took a step closer, and I could smell a faint hint of tobacco on him.
"I warn you, Zhou Ran," his voice dropped even lower, icy and piercing, "there are some things that someone your age shouldn't be curious about. If I catch you lingering around here again or asking questions you shouldn't be asking, it won't just be a verbal warning anymore. I'll notify your parents and issue disciplinary action; think carefully about it."
His gaze swept across my face, each word pronounced slowly and heavily.
"Do you understand?"
I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
"…I understand."
"Good." Wang Yan withdrew his gaze, his tone still icy. "Now, leave this place."
I turned and descended the stairs, my steps feeling somewhat unsteady. As I reached the second-floor landing, a sharp, jarring school bell suddenly rang out, its pitch higher than usual by a peculiar interval. At that specific frequency, a jolt shot through my temples, and the familiar buzzing sound filled my ears again, bringing with it a wave of irritation.
I swayed slightly, gripping the handrail as the discomfort lingered for several seconds before fading away.
The next day, I encountered Aunt Zhao from the neighboring class in the hallway as she came to deliver something to her son.
Upon seeing me, her warm smile immediately vanished, her gaze lingering on me for a few seconds—an expression that held scrutiny and a hint of barely concealed disdain.
As we brushed past each other, I overheard her speaking in a lowered voice to another parent beside her:
"…That's him; always asking about that classroom…"
"…Kids these days really don't know what's good for them…"
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