There was blood on the walls.
But Kael hadn't moved.
He sat in the center of the classroom—empty, yet echoing with whispers. His hands were trembling. The red notebook was gone. Again. Or maybe he never had it.
On the chalkboard:
"How long have you been dead?"
Written over and over again, in his own handwriting.
He stood. Slowly. The windows weren't there anymore. Just… glitching noise. Static that twisted like mist.
And in the sky above the building—a hole. Not a crack. A hole.
A perfect black circle, like the world had been punched through by something watching from the other side.
He turned to leave.
But the door wasn't a door anymore.
It was a mirror.
And inside—the girl was hanging.
From strings. Like a puppet. Her limbs twitching. Her mouth sewn shut again. Her eyes gone.
And on the glass, written in blood:
> "Wake up before they replace you."
He stumbled back—bumped into a desk—and everything collapsed.
The floor disappeared.
He fell into a hospital hallway.
Flashing red lights. Sirens. Nobody in sight. His feet were bare. Blood dripping down his legs.
He ran.
Ran until he saw the room number.
214.
He opened it.
There was no room.
Just a single operating table. And on it?
Himself.
Eyes wide open. Chest cut open. Heart missing.
And standing over him—her.
The girl. But this time, her face wasn't broken.
It was perfect.
She looked at Kael.
And smiled.
> "You were never the real one."
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