Atris entered the school as usual, with calm steps that carried no sense of urgency.
The white corridors stretched ahead in their daily order, cleaner than necessary, as if someone had passed just moments earlier to ensure everything was in its place.
The floor faintly reflected the light, the walls were free of any scratches, and even the sounds were balanced.
Everything in this place worked as it should.
Or... as it was supposed to work.
He passed by other classrooms; students talking, soft laughter, the sound of pens.
A normal scene. Natural. Comforting... almost too much.
He opened the door to his classroom and walked in.
Same room.
Same perfectly arranged desks.
Same light coming through the large windows.
He went to his seat and sat down, placing his bag beside him.
Then, for no clear reason, he looked up... and stopped.
The chair in front of him.
Empty.
He blinked slowly.
Nothing strange about that. Students are sometimes late.
But...
A faint feeling passed through him, as if this emptiness was not new.
He slightly frowned, trying to ignore the thought.
He took out his notebook, quickly flipped through its pages, then reached out looking for his pen.
He stopped.
There was no pen.
He looked at the desk again, then at his hand, as if confirming something too simple to question.
"Strange..."
He whispered, without real concern.
Then he leaned slightly forward:
"Can I borrow a pen?"
His voice was calm, directed toward the empty seat without thinking.
A moment passed... then another.
No response.
He raised his head further this time.
The chair was still empty.
He froze for a second, then slowly straightened his posture.
"Maybe... he's late," he said to himself, as if that explanation was enough.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out another pen.
A light sigh.
"I forgot I had one..."
At that moment, the door opened.
Professor Kyle entered.
Nothing had changed in his appearance or manner.
Same steps. Same calmness.
He stood in front of the board and said directly:
"Open page 12."
The students began moving; the sound of papers, flipping pages, soft murmurs.
Life continued.
The professor wrote on the board in straight, clear handwriting:
"Every result has a cause... even if you don't see it."
Atris began writing.
The movement of the pen was normal at first, but suddenly... he stopped.
He looked at his notebook.
The page in front of him was not empty.
There was a word written at the top... in handwriting that was not his.
His hand froze.
He leaned closer to read it.
The letters were clear... but the meaning was not.
As if the word existed... but refused to be understood.
He blinked.
Then quickly closed the notebook.
"Perception is not reality..."
The professor's voice remained calm.
"It is interpretation."
Atris slowly lifted his head, looking at the board, then at the empty chair in front of him.
Still empty.
But this time... the emptiness was not normal.
It was heavy.
Not because someone was missing... but because the place felt like it had lost something.
An uncomfortable feeling passed through him quickly, but enough to make him stop writing for a moment.
A faint movement at the edge of his vision.
He turned toward the window.
A person was standing there.
Or... had been.
He was not looking directly, but his presence was unmistakable in a way that could not be explained.
Atris focused.
One second...
Then no one.
He looked forward again.
The lesson continued. The sound continued. Everything... as it was.
He slowly lowered his gaze to his hand.
The pen.
He stopped.
This... was not his pen.
He stared at it for a few seconds, with no clear memory of when he had taken it... or from where.
Then, strangely, he gave a faint smile.
"Maybe I took someone else's pen..."
A normal sentence. A comforting one.
He went back to writing.
But this time... he wasn't sure what he was writing.