The girl's pinch-brown eyes held a depth that mirrored a still pond, reflecting a concern so profound it felt like a silent embrace. Her lips, the crimson of fresh blood, moved with a delicate precision, each word measured with a tenderness that hinted at a love woven into the very fabric of her being. For four years, this recurring dream had been my constant companion, an inexplicable window into another's existence playing out behind my own eyelids. Why me? The question echoed in the silent chambers of my mind. What was the connection? Who was I in this strange, borrowed life?
Now, even as she spoke, she began to dissolve, her edges blurring like watercolor in rain. A desperate plea formed in my dream-self's throat: When will this summer night end? Because it was always a summer night when I met her, this girl with the blood-red lips and caring eyes, in the genesis of this repeating cycle.
But the warmth of that initial encounter was now curdling, the dreamscape twisting into a nightmare. Fragmented images flashed before my eyes, visceral and disturbing, things I couldn't consciously recall ever seeing.
Emerald jolted awake, gasping for breath, his body slick with a cold sweat as if he had physically weathered a violent storm throughout the night. He fumbled for his phone, the screen illuminating a time well past seven in the morning.
"Ohh man, it's late again," he muttered, a groan escaping his lips. "I think I am done for today." He threw back the covers, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a damp shroud, and rushed through his morning routine, a frantic energy propelling him to his classes, arriving just as the bell began to ring.
Emerald, now seventeen and in his second year of engineering, had developed a peculiar habit: using the early morning lectures as an extension of his night's sleep. Today was no different. The monotonous drone of the professor's voice served as a lullaby until his friends nudged him awake, a preemptive strike against further black marks on his already questionable academic record. As luck would have it, the lecture ended abruptly, the professor citing urgent matters to attend to.
Albi, ever the pragmatist, leaned in, having already conducted a brief reconnaissance of Emerald's backpack. "Emerald, do you know anything for today's exam?"
Emerald, still clinging to the remnants of his dream, waved a dismissive hand. "Ohh man, exam? To be honest, I didn't study anything, but still… I guess I can pass it somehow."
Tony, however, was less sanguine. "Ohh come on, dude, you're not tripping, right? How the hell do you think you can pass an engineering mathematics exam with sheer luck?"
Emerald blinked, a flicker of realization crossing his face. "Well, you see," he stammered, "I… I didn't know it was E.M. exam today. Thought it was the language one."
By the time the last syllable left his lips, his circle of friends had gathered around his seat. A collective sigh rippled through them as they exchanged weary glances before silently dispersing, each resigned to their own academic fate.
Emerald, unfazed by his near-disaster, promptly settled back into his chair, his head lolling to the side, seeking the familiar embrace of slumber once more.
The exam hall was eerily silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife – it felt like the moments before a major crisis. Emerald jotted down a few words, then scanned the room, hoping for a clue. But all he saw were students intensely focused on their papers, like diligent bookworms racing against the clock, and his classmates, equally stressed, just trying to pass. He sighed, realizing it was futile to seek help; he and his fellow students had faced the daunting exam for three long hours, a shared understanding of potential failure hanging in the air.
Later, the group met at their usual cafe for tea and conversation. "Hey sleepyhead, how did it go?" Ananthu asked.
"Good, I guess," Emerald replied vaguely.
"Bro, if you're going to say the same thing as last year, we're done," Albi interjected, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"Oh come on, dude, I promise I'm not lying this time, but you know, I think I might... actually pass this one," Emerald ventured cautiously.
"Fail? Oh, come on! You said the exact same thing during our combined study session last year... and don't forget, you were the only one who passed!" Ananthu exclaimed, and the conversation continued from there. Unlike others who might dwell on past anxieties, this group was enjoying themselves. They laughed, teased each other, and clearly shared a deep and supportive bond.
Emerald arrived home, grabbed some snacks, and then dedicated himself to finishing the record work due the next day, even though he knew it was likely an impossible task.
Around 2 am, he was still writing. For some reason, the balcony doors were wide open. He heard a sound from the terrace, so he got up from his work and went outside to investigate. Finding nothing, he remained surprisingly calm, as if this were a routine check. Emerald double-checked the area several times before slowly closing the balcony doors and returning to his room.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swirled around him. He was now on his bed, and someone was on top of him – a girl, but clearly not an ordinary one. Emerald didn't yell or even flinch. Judging by his expression, he wasn't shocked at all; a grim smile played on his lips.
The girl continued to gaze at him, appearing to be in her early twenties. Her smooth skin and dark, luxurious hair suggested a privileged upbringing, yet her lean muscles and intense, dark brown eyes hinted at a more adventurous spirit. In a measured tone, she asked, "Aren't you scared, little boy?"
"No," Emerald responded directly.
"You amuse me. May I kiss you?" she continued.
"No, you may not. And could you please get off me?" Emerald countered.
"Calm down," the girl said softly, stepping away. "I bet you know what I am."
Emerald murmured, "A vampire... You're a vampire."
"You're quite perceptive for a human. Tell me, how did you know?" she inquired.
"Too fast and strong. Your skin is flawless. Your speech is highly refined. Plus, I enjoy fiction, which made that guess a possibility," he explained.
"I'm Genna, and you're Emerald. I think we could be friends for a while," Genna said after hearing his reasoning.
Despite his racing heart, Emerald's body remained still. Genna walked over to him, leaned down, and whispered, "Sweet dreams, sweetheart."
The next thing Emerald knew, his alarm clock was ringing.
(To be continued)