The rain continued long into the night, drumming softly against Ethan Carter's bedroom window. The room was dim except for the warm glow of his desk lamp, which illuminated the old leather journal lying open before him. The folded letter rested beside it, untouched. His eyes remained fixed on the six words written across its front.
Do Not Let Ethan Read This.
His name.
His exact name.
Written on paper that looked decades old.
It was impossible.
There was no logical explanation for it.
His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the envelope. For several seconds, he simply stared at it, wondering if opening it would answer his questions—or create even more.
Finally, he broke the old wax seal.
Inside was a single handwritten letter.
The ink had faded, but every word was still readable.
If you're reading this, then something has already gone terribly wrong. My name is Daniel Carter. If you are truly another Carter, leave Westwood High immediately. Don't trust what the school wants you to remember, and don't believe everything you see. Some memories don't belong to the people who carry them.
Ethan frowned.
"The school wants you to remember?"
What did that even mean?
He continued reading.
I thought I could uncover the truth alone. I was wrong. If you ever find the East Wing, don't enter it after sunset... no matter what happens.
The rest of the page had been ripped away.
Ethan searched the envelope, hoping another piece had fallen inside.
Nothing.
Someone had deliberately removed the ending.
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
Every clue only created more questions.
Who was Daniel?
Why did he look exactly like Ethan?
And how could someone from twenty years ago know the name of a boy who hadn't even been born yet?
A loud clap of thunder echoed outside, making him jump slightly.
He quickly closed the journal.
For tonight...
He had read enough.
The next morning, dark clouds still covered the sky, leaving the school grounds unusually quiet. The excitement surrounding the Autumn Festival hadn't disappeared, but even the decorations seemed dull beneath the grey weather.
As Ethan entered the classroom, Noah immediately noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
"You look worse than yesterday."
"I didn't sleep much."
"You've got to stop staying awake solving imaginary mysteries."
Ethan smiled weakly.
"They don't feel imaginary anymore."
Before Noah could ask what he meant, Elena walked into the classroom.
The moment she saw Ethan, her smile faded.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
She didn't believe him.
"You don't look fine."
Noah quietly picked up his bag.
"I suddenly remembered I promised Mason I'd help him with... something."
Olivia, who had just entered, instantly understood.
She grabbed Noah by the sleeve.
"Come on."
"What? I actually—"
"No, you didn't."
Within seconds, the two of them disappeared into the hallway.
Ethan looked after them.
"They planned that."
Elena laughed softly.
"They definitely did."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Then Ethan quietly reached into his bag and placed the letter on the desk.
"I found this last night."
Elena carefully unfolded it.
As she read each line, the color slowly drained from her face.
"This..." she whispered.
"...this is impossible."
"I know."
She looked at him.
"Are you sure it's not someone's prank?"
"I wanted it to be."
"But?"
"The paper is old."
She read the first sentence again.
"My name is Daniel Carter..."
The classroom suddenly felt much colder.
Throughout the morning, Ethan found it impossible to concentrate.
Every lesson blurred together.
Numbers written on the mathematics board made no sense.
The chemistry teacher called his name twice before he realized he was being asked a question.
Even Noah stopped making jokes after noticing how distracted he was.
By lunchtime, Elena gently pulled Ethan aside.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"The art room."
He looked surprised.
"The art room?"
She smiled.
"Trust me."
Curious, Ethan followed her.
The room was almost empty.
Sunlight filtered through large windows, filling the space with warmth. Paintings decorated every wall, while unfinished sculptures stood quietly on wooden tables.
"It feels peaceful," Ethan admitted.
"That's why I come here."
She walked toward an easel covered with a white cloth.
"I've been working on something."
She hesitated before removing the cloth.
It was a painting.
Westwood High.
Not the modern school...
The old one.
The building looked exactly as it had in the photographs Ethan had seen.
"You painted this from memory?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"No."
"Then how?"
"I... dreamed about it."
Ethan stared at her.
"What?"
"I know it sounds strange."
She looked embarrassed.
"But ever since we met..."
She lowered her voice.
"...I've been having dreams."
"What kind of dreams?"
"I don't remember everything."
She looked back at the painting.
"But I always see this building."
"And?"
"I always hear someone calling your name."
Ethan felt a chill run through his body.
"My name?"
She nodded.
"I've never told anyone."
"Why?"
"I thought they'd think I was crazy."
"You don't sound crazy."
"You don't?"
He smiled faintly.
"After everything that's happened..."
He looked toward the painting.
"...I don't think either of us is imagining things anymore."
Their conversation was interrupted by the school bell.
Neither of them noticed the figure standing outside the half-open art room door.
Principal James Walker.
He had heard enough to understand what they were discussing.
His expression grew serious.
Very serious.
Without making a sound, he quietly walked away.
That afternoon, Ethan and Noah were called to the principal's office.
"What did we do?" Noah whispered nervously.
"I honestly have no idea."
"Maybe they finally discovered I broke the science lab window in ninth grade."
"You did what?"
"It was an accident."
"You've been here since kindergarten."
"I've had a lot of accidents."
Ethan couldn't help laughing.
Even now, Noah somehow managed to make everything feel lighter.
They reached the office.
"Mr. Miller," the secretary said.
"The principal only wants Ethan."
Noah looked confused.
"I'll wait outside."
Ethan nodded before stepping inside.
Principal Walker stood near the large office window, his hands clasped behind his back.
Without turning around, he spoke.
"Sit down, Ethan."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Ethan slowly sat.
For several seconds, neither of them said anything.
Finally, the principal turned to face him.
"I have only one question."
He placed an old black-and-white photograph on the desk.
It was another picture of Daniel Carter.
This one was clearer than the others.
Principal Walker looked directly into Ethan's eyes.
"Tell me..."
he said quietly,
"...how do you know this boy?"