10:17 AM.
The Biology exam was over.
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Voltase set his pen down slowly. His movements were mechanical, like a robot running out of battery.
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The answer sheet before him was filled with neat handwriting.
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Too neat.
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Every letter was formed with unnatural precision, as if his hand moved independently of his wandering mind.
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Outside the classroom window, the Oxford sky was still gray.
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Thick clouds hung low, holding back rain that refused to fall.
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The faint sound of St. Mary's church bells echoed in the distance.
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Ten times.
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Heavy. Resonant. The sound drifted between the old red-brick buildings that had witnessed hundreds of years of history, yet remained silent to the suffering of individuals like him.
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Voltase let out a long sigh.
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His chest felt tight. Not from pain. More from emptiness.
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Like there was a hollow space inside his ribcage. A space that should have been filled by something feeling, meaning, or simply the will to live like other children his age.
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He glanced at the wall clock.
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Still morning.
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And this morning, like the mornings before, his body and mind were on different paths.
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His body sat on the hard wooden chair, in a classroom smelling of chalk and old paper.
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His mind? His mind was still on the blood-soaked battlefield.
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Still feeling the cold hands strangling his neck.
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Still seeing the face of the pale blond man. a face frozen in surprise as the bullet pierced his skull.
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Why do I keep going back there?
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The question spun in his head like a broken record.
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Repeating. Without an answer.
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He rose from his chair slowly. Almost reluctantly.
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The other children had already scattered out, their cheerful voices flooding the hallway with laughter and chatter that felt foreign to him.
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A boy with fiery red hair ran past him, nearly bumping Voltase's thin shoulder.
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Girls in neat uniforms huddled near the window, discussing concerts and celebrities with names he'd never heard.
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They lived in a different world.
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Voltase reached for his canvas backpack. It was black, worn, with stitching beginning to unravel at the bottom.
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He slung it over his narrow right shoulder, feeling its light weight, only a few books and a pencil case.
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I don't carry much.
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I don't need much.
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Outside the classroom, the hallway stretched long and white.
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Tiled floors reflected the flickering neon light. old lamps long overdue for replacement, but never replaced.
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The walls were adorned with portraits of past headmasters, their black eyes seeming to follow his every step.
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Voltase walked without purpose.
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Or rather, he walked with one vague purpose.
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To find answers.
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He pulled his phone from his pocket.
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The screen lit up with a pale blue glow, displaying a row of app icons he'd never touched. His small fingers.
still retaining their childish roundness, not yet hardened and calloused like the ones in his dreams, began typing into the search bar.
Dreams.
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Recurring.
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Death.
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He pressed search. A list of results appeared. Scientific articles, discussion forums, psychology blogs. all offered different explanations.
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But none felt right.
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"Recurring dreams are often caused by unresolved trauma..."
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"Dreams about death can symbolize major life changes..."
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"Some experts believe dreams are the brain's way of processing information..."
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Voltase frowned.
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His black eyes like two bottomless pits scanned every word with an intensity unusual for a child his age.
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But I don't have trauma.
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I haven't experienced any major changes.
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Then why do I keep dreaming about war?
About dying?
His fingers moved again. This time, he typed.
meaning of dreams about war.
More results appeared. Some spoke of internal conflict. Others about fear of failure. Some linked it to feelings of helplessness.
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He read them all.
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None matched what he was feeling.
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He wasn't in conflict with himself.
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Not afraid of failing exams.
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He didn't feel helpless at least, not in real life.
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All he felt was utter confusion.
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Like a detective finding puzzle pieces that didn't connect. With no idea where to begin.
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He walked through the second hallway, toward the east wing.
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Here, it was quieter.
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Only a few students passed by. A girl with thick glasses sat on a bench near the window, reading a thick book. Two boys stood near the vending machine, arguing about football.
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Voltase kept walking, his eyes fixed on the screen.
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"Recurring dreams about death can be a sign of severe stress..."
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"In Jungian psychology, death dreams often relate to self-transformation..."
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"Some studies suggest highly realistic dreams can be caused by sleep disorders..."
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No. No. No.
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All those explanations felt shallow. None touched the core of what he was experiencing.
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He felt the bullet enter his chest.
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His blood flow out.
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The hands choking his own neck.
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It wasn't just a dream. It was too real.
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Like a memory.
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The thought came suddenly. Voltase stopped walking.
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Like a memory.
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Like something that actually happened to me.
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But when?
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He had no answer.
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Only deepening darkness inside his mind.
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Like a bottomless chasm.
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And then, he collided with something.
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Or rather, someone.
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The impact happened so fast that Voltase had no time to react.
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His light body for a child his age, bounced backward like a rag doll. His backpack flew off his shoulder, sailed through the air, and landed with a thud on the tiled floor.
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Voltase himself fell.
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His butt hit the hard, cold floor first.
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A jolt of pain shot from his tailbone up through his lower back.
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"Ouch..."
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He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for the sore spot.
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For a moment, the world spun. The neon lights on the ceiling seemed to flicker faster. The sounds around him echoed from afar.
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And then, he realized something else.
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His phone.
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It had slipped from his grip when he fell. Now, it lay face down on the floor.
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Voltase reached for it with trembling hands. He turned it over slowly.
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And—
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A crack.
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A thin crack spread from the upper right corner of the screen, like a spiderweb creeping across the glass.
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Not too severe still usable but enough to make his chest tighten.
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"I just replaced the screen protector last month..."
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But the complaint soon faded when he heard a voice from above.
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"What are you doing, kids?"
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The voice was deep. Resonant. With a... strange tone.
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Like someone trying to be gentle, but with tension coiled behind the words. A tension he couldn't fully hide.
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Voltase looked up.
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For the first time that morning, his onyx eyes met the face before him.
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The man was tall.
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Not extremely tall, perhaps around 180 centimeters but with an upright posture and broad shoulders, he seemed to dominate the space around him.
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His hair was light brown, almost golden, neatly combed to the side. A bit of gel gave it a professional look.
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His brows were thick and sharp, lending a serious expression to his otherwise handsome face.
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A firm chin. A strong jaw.
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And his eyes.
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Hazel green.
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They looked down at Voltase with a mixture of surprise and... something else.
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Perhaps concern. Perhaps curiosity.
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Perhaps—
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A bulge.
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Voltase's attention suddenly shifted.
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Beneath the man's white shirtsleeve, right near his right wrist, there was a strange protrusion disrupting the straight line of his arm.
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Its shape was oval.
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With a pointed front end.
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And a blunt, rounded back.
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Like—
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A bullet.
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The thought shot through Voltase's brain like a lightning strike.
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The fog that had clouded his mind all morning vanished instantly. His drowsy eyes snapped wide open. Focused. Sharp.
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He stared at the bulge. Couldn't stop staring.
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It looked exactly like what he'd seen in his dream.
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The same shape. The same size. Even the position on the right arm, near the wrist felt familiar.
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But that was impossible.
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There was no way a bullet was lodged in a teacher's arm.
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It didn't make sense.
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It—
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"What are you looking at, kid?"
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The man's voice broke his trance.
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Voltase flinched. He realized his hand unconsciously been reaching toward the man's arm. His index finger was almost touching the strange bulge beneath the fabric.
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Quickly, he pulled it back.
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His face flushed with embarrassment. Or awkwardness. He wasn't sure.
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All he knew was that he'd nearly touched a stranger's body part without permission.
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"Sorry, sir," he said quickly, his voice slightly hoarse.
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"I—I wasn't watching where I was going. I was—"
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He pointed to his cracked phone, then shook his head.
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"I was just... not paying attention."
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The man stared at him with an unreadable expression.
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Silence.
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For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, neither spoke. Only the sound of other students' footsteps in the distance, and the hum of flickering neon lights.
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Then, the man extended his hand.
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"Get up first."
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His hand was large.
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Larger than anyone's Voltase had ever seen up close. His palm was wide with long, strong-looking fingers. On the back of his hand, prominent veins stood out. physical signs of someone used to hard work.
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Voltase accepted the outstretched hand.
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The grip was firm, but not painful. With a gentle pull, the man lifted his light body from the floor.
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"Thank you, sir," said Voltase, rubbing his still sore backside.
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The man nodded. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
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A smile that felt... forced.
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Unnatural. Like someone who hadn't smiled in a long time and had to remember how.
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"Are you all right?"
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"Yes, sir. Just a little startled."
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"Good."
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The man looked down, noticing the cracked phone.
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"Your screen is cracked."
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Voltase nodded, slightly embarrassed.
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"Yes, sir. I just... fell earlier."
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"You should be more careful," said the man, his tone softening.
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Yet there was still something behind his words.
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Something that reminded Voltase of adults talking to small children, hiding things they didn't want them to know.
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"Walking while staring at your phone is dangerous. You could bump into someone, or worse, get hit by a vehicle."
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"I know, sir. I'm sorry."
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Voltase lowered his head.
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His eyes involuntarily glanced at the man's arm again.
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The bulge was still there. Still disturbing. Still like a bullet lodged beneath the skin.
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Questions crowded his head.
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Is that a bullet?
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How could a bullet be in someone's arm?
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Was he ever shot? When? Where? Why?
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But Voltase held back.
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He was still a child, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that asking such questions to a newly met adult was inappropriate. Rude. Even dangerous.
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"Kids?"
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The man's voice broke his thoughts.
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Voltase looked up, trying to put on his usual blank expression.
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"Yes, sir?"
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"You look confused. Is something wrong?"
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"No, sir. I was just..."
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He stopped. The words felt heavy on his tongue. He wanted to ask. So badly.
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But what came out was only:
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"...does it hurt?"
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The man frowned.
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"What?"
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Voltase pointed to the man's arm. To the bulge still hidden beneath the shirt.
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"The wound on your arm, sir. Does it hurt?"
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For a moment, the man's face changed.
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His neutral expression almost friendly turned rigid.
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His jaw tightened. His hazel green eyes suddenly seemed sharper. More alert.
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"How do you know there's a wound?"
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"I saw the bulge in your arm, sir," said Voltase honestly. "Its shape looks like—"
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He stopped before the word bullet escaped.
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Instinct told him that wasn't the right word to say.
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"—like something strange. I was curious."
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The man fell silent.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ0FIDSagpM
For a while, he just stared at Voltase with an unreadable gaze. A gaze that made Voltase feel like he was being interrogated.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3Qd1g4sHEC
Then, the man sighed. His face softened again, but his smile still felt stiff.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCqFsmubznv
"It's not a wound, kid. It's just... an old accident scar. Nothing to worry about."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZRcX91RcFC
He pulled his sleeve, covering the bulge completely.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSCvzV3SnEy
"And no, it doesn't hurt. It healed a long time ago."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzDy0QkaNth
Voltase nodded.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdii4eIveq1
But in his heart, he didn't believe him.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6WvT05QGp1
An old accident scar?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOBeeRgjGey
Since when did an accident scar look like a bullet?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡovm8pPzJsr
Since when did an accident scar look like metal lodged beneath the skin?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXBvgpcRJru
The man seemed uncomfortable. He looked left and right, as if making sure no one had heard their conversation.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqULRG6R9fF
"You should get to class, son. Your next exam will start soon, right?"
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmB1cdMgzi0
"Yes, sir. The Social Studies exam."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡll8fabJiPy
"Well, go on then. Don't be late."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡADL7CUZ06Q
The man patted Voltase's shoulder with an awkward motion, like someone not used to physical contact.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWsxa6Do8yj
"And next time, look ahead when you walk. Your phone can wait."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeble6ibxGi
With that, the man turned and walked away.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs7vmOeDmkx
His steps were slightly hurried, as if he wanted to get away from Voltase as quickly as possible.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡruweZUvtVu
Voltase stood there.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeEOaVt7G6C
Staring at the man's retreating back.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKtDwzS6Ts6
He lied.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY7eN4q3fuX
That's not an accident scar.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXUtrXyF1D6
That's a bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw7Ucpoie7J
I know it's a bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi6lKoxTLfT
I just saw a bullet just like that in my dream.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuC86xNZsxK
New questions began to crowd his head.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPiTQlqhQWC
Who is he? Where did he come from? How could he have a bullet in his arm?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7d6NhmORUz
And more importantly...
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBeLRm1dRdU
Why did I dream about the exact same bullet last night?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4d9pRI7ojf
Voltase bit his lower lip, tasting a hint of metal on his tongue.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡflvKQVJBTz
Something is happening here.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl9BG6Sqvom
Something is wrong.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWK3li6wzeH
And I have to find out what it is.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeat94o4EER
He looked down at his cracked phone.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwyzjmqQZVP
The screen was still on, displaying his last search results: images of bullets of various calibers and sizes.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3kz7T21pZ9
With slightly trembling fingers, Voltase began typing a new keyword.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1ZMMoz0elo
"Bullet in arm."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ163Bd3Aidi
Search results appeared. Most were medical articles about projectiles remaining in shooting victims' bodies.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Rshs89acc
Some discussed removal surgery. Others about infection risks. Others about long term effects.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwnRvzM54nH
Voltase read them all quickly, his eyes scanning every word with razor-sharp focus.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHhN6x7xJbI
Then, he found something.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUTHwpww7fQ
An image.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡov4BwVz65u
A bullet with specific dimensions: 9x19 mm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaUz59jFWQc
Voltase stopped his finger. His heart beat faster.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAWbwlfORq7
This is it.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYUsDk4Tbbz
The shape is exactly what I saw on that teacher's arm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBvIJM3crqu
The size is the same. Everything is the same.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Qe04705lF
He compared the image on the screen with his memory of the bulge.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuWZBfsNWOI
No doubt. No difference.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjpB3e4oepo
This is the same bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwQDFFsBy8j
He closed his phone quickly, slipping it back into his pocket.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJR5keeTIti
In the distance, a bell rang. Break was over. The next exam would begin soon.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvljwp2GuxT
Voltase walked toward his classroom with quicker steps than usual.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ06yU9fWhzT
His mind swirled like a whirlpool, trying to connect seemingly unrelated dots.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjG4kaTnMFa
Dreams about war.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2vxwP44oqT
Dreams about death.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEUGGHmkxze
A bullet in a teacher's arm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcd9qNBgp13
I dreamed about the exact same bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzaXRRQFImb
This can't be coincidence.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZpzuyQh3uy
But how?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUV1YxYD4IS
How does my dream connect to a teacher I've never even seen before?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡACwV4yJXca
Or... have I seen him before?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw4krlWmHg0
The question stopped him for a moment.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUG6XnuQYTe
He tried to remember. Had he ever met that man before? Perhaps in the school hallway? In the cafeteria? In the library?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjQMtNtpNXY
No. His face wasn't familiar. He was sure he'd never seen that man before.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcZMcUUesQd
But how could I dream about the bullet in his arm before seeing him?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡawkxFRa42V
This doesn't make sense.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ80eEpHbkr2
This is impossible.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoWD5THgYDl
He entered the classroom, his head still full of questions.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡscflcD5ns5
The room was already half full. Other students sat in their seats, speaking in hushed voices or reading last-minute notes.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgo92v2uXCz
Voltase walked to the desk in the back corner. The same desk he always chose.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuCoU7Bdyth
A place where he could observe everyone without being noticed.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ56Zr5CQxh2
He sat down. Placed his backpack on the floor. Took out his pencil case.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT3S4BFeWy3
And on the desk, he spread out a blank sheet of paper.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU1mSZIxVkS
He didn't intend to write anything on it. No.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz4m9UOIzBW
All he wanted was to think. Process all the new information.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXsq5stUfN1
A 9x19 mm bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWmPc8ZWhkd
In a teacher's arm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTOV2Iijkyn
I dreamed about the same bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpucsQMYCFe
about war and death.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ9YjERJaF4
I died in that dream not once, but twice.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ227NmRijpC
And every time, I felt everything.
Every pain, fear, the last second before darkness came.
Voltase closed his eyes.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfjEAVi8agi
His head felt heavy, as if an invisible weight pressed down on his skull.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3aRd4CpKKT
Should I tell someone?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYecQuC0YoQ
But who?
Who would believe a child who claims to dream about the same bullet in a teacher's arm?
They'll think I'm crazy.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXssLHkkfy4
Or worse, they'll think it's a joke.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJsUl0K13Mk
And I don't want to be thought of as crazy.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoiarZQYf9h
Not here. In this school.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCmAHD2oST5
Voltase opened his eyes. He stared at the white, cracked ceiling.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoIcCY5zZk9
The neon light flickered again, this time longer.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKBFXbuM4De
In front of him, exam papers began to be distributed by the supervising teacher a middle-aged woman with gray hair and half moon glasses that always slipped to the tip of her nose.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0CC9IlOWIO
"The Social Studies exam will begin in five minutes. Please prepare your writing tools."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPqPe7P4PrS
Voltase picked up his pen. His hand moved mechanically, as usual.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJnjCJrquHV
But his mind wasn't here.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5zVGrygI8Z
Not in this classroom. Not among questions about history and geography.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ94DNH2kBlr
His mind was still in the school hallway.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYzjKNxKuzy
Still seeing the bulge on that man's arm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdJO1vg450
Still comparing it to the image on his phone.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxgeIJ0hTog
9x19 mm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuKtEQCVfpO
The same bullet.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnkPcuVoO3h
How? Why?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡna2AblcyHh
And in his still-innocent heart still too young to understand the complexity of the world a seed of new fear began to grow.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYHfkFAVqLn
Not fear of exams.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ84sITd5wDf
Not fear of angry teachers.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdyldSk5dk
Not even fear of the nightmare that would come tonight.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT40kKmoXqM
But fear of something deeper. Something he couldn't name.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN5SbL5cNY6
Fear that all of this the dreams, the deaths, the bullet, that man were all connected in ways he didn't understand.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvNQcrhUKi
And that the connection might be more dangerous than anything he could imagine.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS9ynlcp60M
The exam began.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo7MRio8d6e
Voltase stared at the paper before him.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZmUYuk9upl
"Explain the causes of World War I and its impact on the European political order."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCo5rdEsqC5
He knew the answer. He knew history well probably better than most children his age.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4TRQ0hTR9v
But his hand didn't move.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpQRU5oAdaY
All he could think about was the war in his dreams.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpQqsr1yz36
The battlefield full of corpses. Blood flowing on muddy ground.
The blond-haired man dying with a bullet in his head.
That war wasn't like what was taught in history books.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT8V2neCaJ5
The war in his dreams felt real.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL3QP5OQNtL
Too real.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZIHo1CsGeH
He bit the end of his pen a bad habit he could never break.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOLwvBAM9wX
Think about the exam, Voltase. Concentrate. This is important.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIHxohksr4Y
But his mind refused to cooperate.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPiJFOLbmPy
What he saw behind his eyelids was a 9x19 mm bullet. The wound on that man's arm. The strange bulge hiding beneath the white shirt.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjIolwJrnmz
What happened to him?
Was he ever shot?
Is that bullet still in his arm?
Why didn't he have surgery?
The questions kept spinning. Like a wheel that wouldn't stop.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBMaaBgow3S
He let out a long sigh. Tried to calm himself.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd2Lut5Ol5S
It's not important now. What matters is the exam. Finish this. Afterward, I can find out more.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXGGt1qWxDA
He began writing. His hand moved across the paper, forming words about military alliances, rising nationalism, and the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE0ozT7hiw6
But in his heart, a small voice kept whispering.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeOuKHXjGV4
You know it's not a coincidence.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7p0pN7Lo0A
You know there's a connection.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWQa5QrjLHI
And you know you have to find out.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9QIKpuSS7q
But how? Where to begin?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXRPM89pbDh
Thirty minutes later, Voltase finished his exam.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9dWcjV4GvT
He set his pen down calmly, staring at the paper with a flat expression. His answers were complete perhaps not perfect, but good enough.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdPNKac2Pdq
But he didn't feel satisfied.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbq4AGfkZtO
He felt empty.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAaCBqSrTU1
Like a part of him was missing. Left behind in the school hallway when he bumped into that man. Left behind in the dreams that kept haunting his sleep.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgdA2RqEN1B
He glanced at the wall clock.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ84amzuw1sW
There was still time left before the exam ended.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkSalwgiPVe
Nothing to do but sit and wait.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi5MjXhiTdc
He let his gaze drift out the window. The sky was still gray. Trees in the schoolyard swayed gently in the cold morning breeze.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPZfDJiv4Zc
In the distance, he saw a group of students playing football. They ran, shouted, laughed living in a way he never had.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHzLwu4FIM4
He envied them.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv9dXoC6oJx
Envied how easily they enjoyed life. Envied their indifference to unimportant things.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb9GcQus7B1
They never wake up in the middle of the night feeling like they're being strangled.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrajNpAnArS
Never feel a bullet enter their chest.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYYq2vQsTzR
Never see corpses scattered around them.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIqfWqVXqq8
They don't know how lucky they are.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSIDNMvGAFB
Voltase closed his eyes for a moment, trying to rest his weary mind.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxbYBixkRv4
But rest didn't come.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCf78zMZORZ
What came was the memory of the dream.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeIsmNnfGjq
His final moments. The pain spreading from his neck throughout his body. The darkness slowly creeping in, swallowing his consciousness.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKS3ghFKRo7
Bang.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuVxBwpDvMU
He opened his eyes suddenly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFTFPcjmxQm
No. Don't think about that.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsGtfr2whI5
Now is not the time.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCtF24qfYlm
You have to focus.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIdwd4cASwq
But his mind wouldn't listen.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH0H3Cmdz3l
And in the darkness, the whisper began again.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMtrf54wjZF
You'll go back. Tonight.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs5WN6Ttzlr
You'll go back to that place.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhnD450z4bM
And you'll die again.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9tvFHlzr1a
The bell rang.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvZB04cukhH
The exam was over.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU4Q3oc8x96
Other students began collecting their papers with rustling sounds and quiet conversations. Some looked relieved, others anxious.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3A7JHpnERt
Voltase remained seated. Not moving.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡARdYjGOAMc
The supervising teacher walked past his desk.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHejlkRMvu7
"Are you finished, Watt?"
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgMxiYIo6J7
"Yes, ma'am."
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdtofmieQgP
He handed over his paper slowly.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrAcEapT2xt
The teacher nodded and walked to the next desk.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPHqB6l6Nfh
Voltase let his gaze go blank for a moment. Then, he stood up.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdXBzOkR2lK
He picked up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the classroom.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjp9U1isNlA
The hallway was already crowded.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaZEEVwgLay
Students scattered everywhere, talking loudly about the exam. Some laughed, some complained, some walked silently while staring at their phones.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEQeobVH7PA
Voltase walked past them all, paying attention to no one.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDE0OZhoIRI
All he could think about was one thing.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvKfWdqdKs2
I have to find out who that man is.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvD6ht6nRp6
Find out what happened to him.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7pEEBXS9Pm
Find out why I dreamed about the bullet in his arm.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBrLUaSk94c
And I have to do it before night falls.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRPCh4zjXOh
He stopped in front of the bulletin board at the end of the hallway.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk6bswtFbHb
There, hanging, was a list of teachers and school staff. Their photos were neatly displayed in plastic frames, with names and positions beneath.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhSoT6zszYz
Voltase scanned the list with his eyes.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFguHSUGbcv
Searching for the face he'd just met.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ70Qxn0ObzY
Mr. Anderson—Mathematics.
Mrs. Bennett—English.
Mr. Clarke—History.
Mrs. Davis—Art.
Mr. Evans—Science.
Nothing.
No face of a man with light brown hair and hazel green eyes.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ59ZwYy4Htk
No name matching his description.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6WBu0KsHj5
Maybe he's a new teacher?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJAXsMGWKqI
Maybe his photo hasn't been put up yet?
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY2wEUwkQNO
Or maybe...
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ0S1MMX5QL
The thought made his skin crawl.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbRGPbYsssS
Maybe he's not a teacher.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1JVfCCKoN8
Maybe he's someone else.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7V5WEVqWmD
Maybe he—
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0GUhUAxtJ
He shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjFFizzPVn8
Don't be too paranoid, Voltase.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0zpZSzmyZF
Maybe his photo just hasn't been put up yet. Or he's a substitute teacher. That's a reasonable explanation.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsLiZlX0BM4
But even as he thought that, a part of him didn't believe it.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx03n2Ckkay
Nothing made sense anymore. Not since he started dreaming about war. Not since he felt a bullet enter his chest.
Not since he saw that man.
He walked to the school library.
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The room was silent, as usual. Only a few students sat at the long tables, reading or working on assignments.
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The librarian an old woman with white hair and thick glasses sat behind the front desk, reading a novel.
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Voltase walked between the bookshelves. Searching for something anything that could help him understand.
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He stopped in the psychology section.
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Books about dreams. About the subconscious. About trauma and memory.
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He took a thick book titled "The Psychology of Dreams: A Clinical Approach."
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He opened it to the first page and began reading.
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"Dreams are a universal phenomenon that have fascinated humans since ancient times..."
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He read further, looking for sections about recurring dreams. About dreams that felt real. About dreams involving death.
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"Recurring dreams are often associated with unresolved traumatic experiences. The brain attempts to process the trauma through dreams, but because the trauma is too heavy to process all at once, the brain repeats it over and over..."
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Voltase frowned.
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I don't have trauma. Nothing happened to me. My life is ordinary. Boring, even.
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Then why do I keep dreaming about war?
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He read further.
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"Some researchers argue that highly realistic dreams could be manifestations of genetic memory. memories inherited from our ancestors through DNA. This theory is controversial and not scientifically proven, but interesting to consider..."
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Genetic memory?
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Could I have inherited memories of war from someone in the past? From my grandfather? Or my great-grandfather?
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But my family was never involved in war. At least, not that I know of.
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He closed the book in frustration. No satisfying answers. Only unprovable theories.
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He put it back on the shelf, then walked to another section.
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This time, he stopped in the medicine section.
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"Projectiles and Gunshot Trauma: Medical and Psychological Management"
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He pulled the book from the shelf, opening it to the page about bullet types.
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Detailed images of various calibers. Descriptions of size, weight, and effects on the human body.
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Voltase scanned the pages quickly, looking for something that matched what he'd seen.
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And then, he found it.
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"9x19 mm Parabellum. also known as 9mm Luger. One of the most common bullet calibers in the world. Widely used by military and police forces. This projectile has a diameter of 9 mm and a casing length of 19 mm..."
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This is it.
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This is exactly what I saw.
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I'm sure of it.
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He read further about its effects.
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"The 9x19 mm bullet has significant penetrating power. At close range, it can penetrate bone and cause severe tissue damage. Bullets that lodge in the body without hitting vital organs are often left in place because removal surgery can pose greater risks than benefits..."
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So the bullet might have been deliberately left in his arm.
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Because removing it was too dangerous.
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But how did he get shot?
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The questions continued spinning. Without answers.
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Voltase returned to his dormitory at 3 PM.
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His room felt quiet and cold, as usual. The window curtains were tightly drawn, leaving only a small gap for gray light to seep in.
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He took off his shoes. Placed his backpack beside the wardrobe. Sat on the edge of his bed.
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The room felt smaller than usual. More cramped. More suffocating.
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He stared at his cracked phone, still displaying his last search results.
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9x19 mm.
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The same bullet.
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On that man's arm.
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In my dream.
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He gripped his phone tightly, feeling the cold plastic and glass in his palm.
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Something is happening.
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Something is wrong.
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And I have to find out.
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Before night falls.
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Before I go back to that dream.
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Before I die again.
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Outside the window, the sky began to darken.
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Gray clouds moved slowly, covering the remnants of sunlight trying to break through.
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Rain would fall again tonight.
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Voltase could feel it in the air. The rising humidity. The scent of damp earth beginning to seep in.
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He lay on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.
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In his head, one question kept repeating.
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Who is that man?
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And what does he have to do with my dreams?
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He had no answers.
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All he had was a bad feeling. A feeling that everything was about to change. A feeling that his ordinary, boring life was about to end.
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And a feeling that tonight, he would return to that battlefield.
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For the third time.
ns216.73.216.243da2 
and then Add to home screen.