Alam found himself back in the dean's office. The air was thick with the smell of old varnish and cold metal, and the dim yellow lamp on her desk cast long, warped shadows across the floor. The dean slammed her hands down on the desk, the wood rattling under her palms.
"I know you know what happened, Mister Lestari!"
The sound cracked through the room like a whip. Alam flinched, his pulse thudding in his ears.
"I swear, I don't know anything," he pleaded, voice thin.
"Every student there said you and Fitz were fighting before it happened," the dean insisted, her glasses glinting sharply in the lamplight.
"I wouldn't call that a fight," Alam muttered, heat rising in his cheeks.
"What's that, Mister Lestari?!" she roared, her voice reverberating off the cold stone walls.
"I said, I wouldn't call that a fight. It was him pummeling me because I unintentionally interrupted his girly romance anime, until I finally spoke up for myself," Alam snapped, breath trembling.
"Watch your tone, Mister Lestari, or I'll put you on timeout," the dean said coldly, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
"Timeout? What is this, Kindergarten?" Alam said, unable to stop himself.
Her eyes narrowed. "Would you like me to take you to the timeout room, Mister Lestari?" She gestured toward the iron door in the corner.
The iron door loomed like a tombstone, its surface mottled with rust. A faint scraping echoed from behind it — metal against stone, followed by a low, animalistic growl. The sound slithered up Alam's spine like ice water. He shrunk back into his chair, gripping the armrests.
"No, thank you," he whispered.
"Good." The dean sighed aggressively, the sound sharp as tearing paper. "You're still in your dorm room, I'm told?"
"Yeah, I—"
"It's fine, Mister Lestari. Just make sure you move your things over to the attic by tomorrow evening," she said flatly, adjusting a stack of papers with mechanical precision.
"Why can't I stay in the dorm room? There's plenty of space," Alam said, frustration tightening his throat.
"Dorm rooms are for students who pay their tuition. It simply wouldn't be fair to let you stay in one for free," she replied, tapping her pen against the desk in a slow, threatening rhythm.
Alam sucked his teeth. The dean's gaze flicked toward the iron door.
"S‑sorry," he said quickly.
"You're dismissed, Mister Lestari."
The metronome on her desk clicked steadily as he left — each tick like a nail being hammered into place.
Alam moved toward the door, hesitating at the threshold. "Should I tell her about the figure in black?" he muttered.
"What's that, Mister Lestari?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. I'll start packing my things."
As the door swung shut, the dean whispered, "What figure in black…?"
Back in his dorm room, the air felt stale, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. On his bed lay a small note, the paper soft and slightly scented with strawberry lip gloss. A cheerful chibi‑style unicorn smiled from the corner.
Meet me by the fountain at midnight
─ CIN
Alam chuckled softly. "I wonder who this could be," he murmured, the absurdity warming him for a moment.
He slipped out of his dorm, the night air cool against his skin. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the campus lights flickered like tired fireflies. He bypassed security, the gravel crunching under his uneven steps.
The fountain sat silent, its water reflecting the moon in trembling shards. No one was there.
"Was it a prank?" he muttered, shoulders sagging. "Guess I'll head back to my room."
"Leaving so soon?" someone whispered, the voice brushing the back of his neck like a cold breeze.
Alam spun around. Cindy stepped into the moonlight, her smile bright enough to rival it.
"So it was you?" he said, face lighting up.
"The one and only," Cindy said, striking a playful pose. Her perfume — sweet, floral, familiar — drifted toward him.
"Why'd you want to meet out here so late?" Alam asked.
"Well, I wanted to check on you after what happened earlier," she said, stepping closer. Her boots clicked softly against the stone.
"I'm still sore, but I'm alright," Alam said, cheeks warming.
Cindy grabbed his tie, the fabric tightening against his collar, and pulled him closer. Her breath was warm against his cheek.
"Good," she whispered before kissing him on the cheek.
Alam's heart fluttered. "What was that for?"
"For standing up to that annoying a**hole, Fitz," Cindy said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone here's too afraid of him to say anything."
"Well… what I said was true," Alam murmured. "When we're gone, all we have left is our legacy. How people remember us. No one will remember him. He'll be forgotten. And that's sadder than this useless foot of mine."
He stared down at his club foot, the cold stone beneath him amplifying the ache.
Cindy chuckled softly. "You know, you surprise me, Alam."
"What do you mean?"
"When you first got here, you were shy and quiet. Now you're bold and insightful." She twirled a strand of hair, the moonlight catching its shine. "It's only been a few days… the change has been so dramatic."
Her eyes sparkled. Alam leaned in, closing his eyes.
"Alam," Cindy said sharply.
He opened his eyes. She was several feet away, staring into the darkness.
"Huh?!"
"Did you hear that?" she whispered, voice trembling.
"Hear what?"
"Shhh. There it is again!"
Alam closed his eyes and listened. The night wind rustled the trees… then—
A scream. High‑pitched. Distant. Raw.
His eyes snapped open.
"You heard it, didn't you?" Cindy whispered, her voice barely audible.
"That sound… It's coming from—"
"The woods," Cindy said, her voice hollow.
She clenched her fist, took a sharp breath, and sprinted off.
"Wait, Cindy, come back!" Alam shouted, stumbling after her.
"We have to help! It could be a student!" her voice echoed, fading into the trees.
"But I can't keep up," Alam groaned, dragging his club foot through the grass. Pain shot up his leg. He punched his thigh, teeth gritted.
"Why am I cursed?" he whispered, breath shaking. He forced himself forward. "I can't just leave her out there alone."
The woods swallowed him in darkness. Branches clawed at his clothes. Damp earth squished under his shoes. The air smelled of moss and cold stone.
"Cindy?" he called, voice cracking. No answer.
A faint glow flickered through the trees. He followed it, heart pounding.
"Psst, over here, Alam," Cindy whispered, crouched behind thick shrubbery. Her breath puffed visibly in the cold air.
As he joined her, a low hum filled the clearing — many voices chanting in unison, rhythmic and eerie. The torches crackled, their flames swaying like they were breathing.
"What's happening?" Alam whispered.
"I don't know. There's something weird going on here," Cindy said, pointing.
A circle of figures stood around a stone altar, cloaked in crimson robes. Black hyena masks glinted in the firelight, their carved teeth catching the glow. The sight made Alam's stomach twist.
He remembered the hyena mask on the dean's wall.
"Is she a part of this?" he whispered to himself.
"What's that?" Cindy asked.
"Nothing," he said quickly.
"Come on, let's get a closer look," Cindy whispered.
"W‑we should go back," Alam said, voice shaking.
"You're not afraid, are you?" she teased, then slipped forward before he could stop her.
"Wait, Cindy," Alam whispered, reaching out — but she vanished into the shadows.
A rustle behind him. He spun around, trembling.
It was just a rabbit. Alam exhaled shakily. "Silly rabbit," he whispered.
Then another sound — heavier. Closer.
He turned—
A boot filled his vision.
Thud.
Darkness swallowed him whole.