13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaPbW0xZDQ6
Dhammawitaya School, Bangkok – 7:53 a.m.
The sound of flip-flops against the concrete echoed in the almost-empty corridor. Most students had already shuffled into their classrooms, the low hum of morning announcements murmuring over the old intercom system.
Sol Kittisak, student council president, walked fast—tie crisp, badge shining. He wasn’t late, but he was annoyed. As always, someone had dumped trash behind the science building again. And of course, it was his job to deal with it.
He passed by a cracked classroom door and paused. Inside, he spotted a familiar figure slouched against a desk, legs up, black hoodie half-zipped, and earphones in.
“Of course,” Sol muttered under his breath. “Rin.”
Rin Wongsathorn didn’t react. Didn’t even move. Typical. Like he lived to ignore authority.
Sol pushed open the door. “You can’t just squat in here whenever you feel like it. It’s still school property.”
No response. Rin's eyes stayed closed, head tilted back like he hadn't slept in days.
Sol crossed his arms. “Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. If you’re going to skip class, at least go do it outside—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
Rin's voice cut through the dusty air, low and lazy. His eyes opened—sharp, dark, dangerous. Sol froze, just for a second.
He hated the way Rin looked at him. Like he could see straight through his rules and order and perfect grades.
“I said,” Rin repeated, “do you ever shut up?”
Sol’s jaw tightened. “Get to class, Wongsathorn. Or I’m reporting you—again.”
A faint, mocking smile tugged at Rin’s lips. “Go ahead. Report me. Just don’t cry when you need someone like me later.”
Sol turned on his heel, muttering curses under his breath. “Useless thug.”
---
8:04 a.m.
The bell rang.
Students rose. Teachers began roll call. A normal day.
Until Room 3/5 on the third floor started screaming.
It began with one student coughing—hard, violent, doubled over on his desk. A thin trail of black mucus dripped from his nose, soaking into his uniform shirt. His classmates thought he was choking—until he snapped upright and sunk his teeth into the girl sitting next to him.
Chaos erupted. Desks overturned. Screams split the air.
---
In Room 3/2, Jet Chanasorn was mid-joke, teasing Tae about the way he tied his shoes too tight, when someone slammed into the classroom door.
A student. Bloodied. Wide-eyed.
And behind him—more. Fast. Foaming. Screaming.
The teacher tried to close the door. A hand—pale and shaking—grabbed her wrist and bit. She dropped. Blood sprayed. The class scattered.
Jet grabbed Tae without thinking. “Run!”
---
On the first floor, Sol was finishing attendance when the intercom crackled to life with a scream—just a scream, raw and distant.
Then static.
Then silence.
Then more screams. Closer.
---
Rin heard it before anyone else.
He was still in that empty classroom. Still watching the sky through cracked windows. The screaming... it wasn't just fear. It was animalistic. Bloodthirsty.
He stood up slowly. Reached into his backpack. Pulled out a rusted switchblade.
“Fucking called it,” he muttered.
---
Students flooded the stairwells, tripping over each other, blood already smearing the walls. Some teachers tried to help. Others ran. Most didn’t get far.
On the second floor landing, Mew fought her way through a crowd, grabbing a steel chair from the teacher’s lounge. She smashed it into the face of a girl trying to bite her.
“Get back!” she screamed. “They’re infected! Don’t let them touch you!”
---
Sol, breath shaking, ducked into a side corridor, trying to call his dad. No signal.
Then he turned—and ran straight into someone.
Strong arms caught him, yanking him backward before a growl sliced through the air.
Rin.
He’d pulled Sol into the janitor’s closet just in time. Outside the door, a girl—glassy-eyed and twitching—stumbled past, mouth stained red.
Sol’s breath caught in his throat.
Rin’s chest was rising and falling fast beside him.
They stood in the dark. Pressed together. Hearts racing.
“You okay?” Rin asked roughly.
Sol looked up, confused. “You—”
“Don’t ask me why I helped. I’m not in the mood for your speeches.”
They were close—too close. Sol could smell sweat, blood, fear.
And Rin’s hand was still on his waist.
---
8:23 a.m.
The school was no longer a school.
It was a cage.
And the dead were no longer staying dead.
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