It was raining again.
Not heavily—just the quiet, steady kind that made the trees look like they were sighing. Students complained about soggy socks and fogged-up glasses, but Ren Kai, as always, walked through it like the world had made room for him.
His umbrella stayed closed.
"Of course he doesn't use one," Yuki muttered, standing under hers, eyeing Kai's dry uniform with suspicion. "How does he stay untouched? Is it money? Is it skincare?"
Kenzo offered no answers. Just shrugged and nudged a steamed bun toward her. "Stop trying to figure him out. You'll spiral."
She took it anyway. "You're enabling him."
"Probably."
***
Third period was group work—one of those endlessly recycled history assignments that every class did at least once. The kind where the teacher said "Collaborate and learn from each other" while sneaking in a coffee break.
Kenzo, Yuki and Kai had been grouped together, obviously. Some things just arranged themselves that way. Like gravity, or favoritism.
"Okay," Yuki said, cracking her knuckles, "I'll organize the slides and do the intro. Kenzo, you write the middle bits. Kai—"
"I'll do the end," Ren Kai said, before she could accuse him of slacking.
"And not just by nodding mysteriously," she added, narrowing her eyes.
"No promises."
She groaned, but her smile lingered longer than necessary.
***
Halfway through their project planning, Ren Kai's pen stopped moving.
He didn't look up, but something in the air shifted.
That note again. That high, thin wisp of sound, like someone gently dragging a bow across a broken string. It seemed to pass through him—too fast to grab, too strange to ignore.
Nobody else reacted.
He glanced up and saw the classroom clock twitch, just once. Not the hand, but the actual frame—as if the wall had hiccupped.
He blinked.
Back to normal.
"Are you spacing out?" Yuki asked. "You're supposed to be deciding which emperor to analyze."
Ren Kai stared at the page. "Let's do the one that burned his own library."
Kenzo chuckled. "Symbolic."
Yuki gave them both a look but didn't argue.
***
The rain had eased by the time classes ended, leaving everything damp and fragrant.
Ren Kai walked slower than usual. Not because he was tired—but because the campus felt different. Like it was waiting.
He didn't tell Kenzo or Yuki he wasn't going home yet. He simply peeled away from the main path and wandered toward the older buildings—areas most students avoided unless forced to.
Behind the closed music hall, he heard something.
Tap. Tap. Pause. Tap.
It was almost rhythmic. Like Morse code from a ghost.
Ren Kai didn't flinch. Just leaned slightly toward the noise, then gently opened the door.
Nothing.
The hallway was empty. Lights flickered softly overhead. A few instrument cases lay neatly stacked in the corner.
Then, faintly, under it all—the same melody from before, this time clearer. Six notes. Minor key. Unsettling and delicate.
But the music room was locked.
He didn't try to enter. He simply stood there until the silence returned.
***
That night, after dinner alone, Ren Kai searched his bookshelf.
It wasn't the books he was looking for—it was the narrow gap behind them.
There, wedged deep in the shadows, was a dusty old journal.
Not his. Not recent.
It had no name. The cover was cracked. And yet… he knew it was his.
From long ago?
He flipped it open. Most pages were blank. But one page—exactly in the center—held a sketch.
A symbol. Same as before.
And below it, written in uneven strokes:
"Not a memory. A promise."
Ren Kai stared at it. His fingers brushed the words.
That was when his phone buzzed again.
Kenzo.
"Tomorrow. Yuki's bringing snacks and chaos. You better show."
He smirked faintly and replied with a single emoji—one of those cryptic faces that could mean anything.
Then, with one last glance at the journal, he closed it and set it back in the shadows.
***
The rain returned after midnight.
Ren Kai lay awake, eyes open, listening to the drip of water off the balcony rail.
And then—just before he slipped into sleep—he heard it again.
That same word.
Not spoken. Not shouted. Just there.
Barely audible in the rustling leaves and soft wind.
A name.
One he didn't know, but somehow… missed.
He whispered it under his breath without realizing.
"...Lioren."
And then he slept.