Ishin walked to school, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  The morning air was crisp, but his thoughts were anything but clear.

  "Even if you've forgotten… you still have a responsibility."

  The voice from the mirror echoed in his mind. He had tried to brush it off, but the more he thought about it, the stronger the unease grew.

  Forgotten? Forgotten what?

  His memories weren't perfect—no one's were—but lately, it felt like entire chunks of time were just… missing.

  The past few months were a blur.

  Ever since the accident, everything had been fragmented.

  He clenched his fists.

  He still couldn't remember the accident itself. He knew his parents were gone. He knew he was alone. But the details… they slipped through his fingers like sand.

  It was frustrating.

  Before he realized it, he was already at the school gates. Students streamed past him, laughing and chatting like it was any other normal morning.

  Normal.

  As if the world hadn't turned upside down.

  As if he hadn't just spoken to his own damn reflection.

  "Ishin!"

  A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

  Shun Morizaki jogged toward him, waving. Unlike Ishin, who was always half-asleep in the mornings, Shun had an endless supply of energy. His brown hair was slightly messy, his uniform tie loose, and the usual grin plastered across his face.

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  "You good, man? You look like a ghost."

  Ishin sighed, rubbing his temple. "Didn't sleep well."

  "Pfft, when do you ever?" Shun elbowed him playfully. "Anyway, we got math first period. Think Sensei's gonna destroy us today?"

  "Most likely."

  The two of them headed inside, blending into the crowd of students.

  But as they walked through the hallway, something felt off.

  The whispers started as soon as they entered the classroom.

  Murmurs. Quick glances. Hushed voices.

  Students were talking—no, gossiping—their eyes darting toward Ishin before quickly looking away.

  "What's their problem?" Shun muttered, frowning.

  Ishin didn't answer. He just scanned the room.

  Then, he saw it.

  At his desk, a single folded piece of paper sat waiting for him.

  A note.

  His heartbeat quickened as he walked over, his fingers hovering over the paper for a second before picking it up.

  Slowly, he unfolded it. His eyes locked onto the messy handwriting.

  "You were tricked. If you want the truth, come to the lab after school."

  His breath hitched.

  Another warning. Another mystery.

  His grip on the paper tightened.

  What the hell is going on?

  ---