Chapter 1 – dark and light that comes Part A

In the midst of the school’s usual noise and bustle, that classroom stood like a lonely island. The walls were covered with test results—sheets of numbers reflecting the struggles and hopevs of countless students.

Kaivan sat hunched over, his dark, empty eyes fixed on the wall where the names of the top scorers were displayed. His heart pounded furiously as his clenched fists rested on the desk.

At the front, the teacher—a middle-aged man with a deep, commanding voice—began to call out the names of those who had made it to the top list.

“Rina Ananda.”

A girl wearing glasses rose slowly from the front row. Her neatly tied black hair swayed softly as she stepped forward. A shy smile spread across her face, yet in her eyes flickered a confident light.

Kaivan swallowed hard. Every time Rina smiled, a tinge of envy pierced his chest… but mixed within it was a warmth he couldn’t understand. When she finished her brief self-introduction and returned to her seat, Kaivan lowered his gaze, anxiously twisting his fingers together. His heartbeat grew even more erratic.

The roll call continued—yet his name was never called.

Suddenly the world felt distant. The voices around him echoed hollow, stripped of meaning. He sat slumped, like a defeated warrior. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, but never fell.

In the garden, he caught sight of Rina laughing with her friends. Her voice was gentle, her smile radiant. Kaivan only watched from afar, his lips parting as if to speak… but no sound came. At last, he turned away and walked off.

Back at his desk, Kaivan sat with a pencil trembling in his hand, scratching meaningless lines across the page. His notebook lay open before him, filled with formulas and notes that now seemed like foreign symbols.

“Even trying to be a good student… I failed at that too?”

Kaivan gazed at the evening sky framed by his bedroom window. In that silence, Rina’s smile surfaced in his mind once again. It wasn’t just her smile that warmed his heart—it was the way she always carried herself with such confidence, something that felt so far from him.

“Why can’t I be like her?” he asked himself silently. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a worn diary. Opening to a blank page, he began to write with trembling hands.

Outside, the sunset painted the world in shades of orange, the blue sky gently giving way to a tender dusk. Yet for Kaivan, that beauty felt meaningless. He kept staring out the window, his heart growing heavier as the night deepened.

On his day off, Kaivan met up with his friends at a cozy little café with a warm vintage design: Rina, Tania, and Dandi. The air was rich with the aroma of fresh coffee and pastries. Tania, cheerful as always, sipped her coffee with a wide grin.

“Kaivan, why do you always pick such plain places to eat? Take us somewhere fancy for once!” she teased.

Kaivan gave a small laugh, though a discomfort tugged at his chest. “Well, as long as we get to eat together, isn’t that what matters?” he said, lifting his glass of juice in a half-confident gesture.

“That’s true! What matters is that we’re together. And honestly, the cake here is amazing!” Rina chimed in with a playful nudge at his shoulder, her bright smile making his heart skip.

“Yeah, who cares about the place. As long as there’s good food, I’m happy!” Dandi added, already holding his spoon like he was ready to pounce on dessert.

Tania shot him a mischievous glance. “When it comes to food, Dandi’s always the first to dive in!”

They all laughed together.

“Hey, Rina,” Kaivan suddenly said, trying to stir the mood further. “If you were a superhero, what kind of power would you want?”

Rina paused to think, then broke into a wide grin. “Hmm, I’d want the power to fly! So I could go anywhere, without limits—free like a bird!”

Kaivan nodded slightly. “That’s awesome. So you could escape from problems whenever you wanted, huh?” he joked.

Rina giggled, replying, “More like I’d fly away on vacations all the time—straight to the fancy places!”

Dandi, sitting beside Kaivan, jumped in. “Escape from problems? If it’s Kaivan, his superpower would definitely be running fast—so he could run away from all his troubles! You’ve got plenty of those, Van!”

Tania smirked at Kaivan. “Or maybe the power to slow down time—so you could disappear whenever you’re embarrassed, haha!”

Kaivan forced a smile. “Maybe,” he answered briefly, trying to mask the sting in his chest. Deep down, he knew their jokes weren’t entirely just jokes.

That night, when they finally parted ways, Kaivan walked home alone. The empty sidewalk became his only companion, shadows stretching alongside him. The laughter and teasing still echoed in his ears, now transformed into reminders of how often he was seen as not enough.

Every morning, as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, Kaivan awoke to the pounding of his own heart. The golden rays slipping through the gaps of his curtains seemed like reminders that each day brought another chance—another fragile hope. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, but behind it, restlessness lingered.

“Maybe… today is the day.”

Kaivan had been carrying his feelings for Rina for a long time. She was the bright, clever girl always at his side, her sweet smile etched deep into his heart. Often, he found himself watching her from afar, his thoughts drifting, his pen scribbling poems into the pages of his diary. Each verse was a mirror of emotions too deep, too fragile, to ever speak aloud.

That morning, Kaivan prepared himself with deliberate care. He pulled out a weathered brown notebook, his hands trembling slightly as he flipped through the pages—poems he had written for Rina, verses he believed captured his deepest feelings.

The day was bright, the breeze carrying with it the faint aroma of coffee from the café where they often gathered. As Kaivan stepped onto the school grounds, he spotted Rina sitting at a desk, absorbed in her book. Her lips curved into a gentle smile whenever she stumbled upon something amusing, and the sight rooted Kaivan in place.

"This is it!" he told himself.

He clenched his fists, steadying the storm in his chest. When the school day ended, he took a deep breath and approached her desk, each step slow but resolute.

“Hey, Rina,” he greeted, his voice trembling yet filled with sincerity.

Rina looked up, her warm smile instantly lighting up her face. “Oh, Kaivan! Hi! What’s up?” she replied cheerfully, closing her book and turning her sparkling eyes toward him.

“I… I want to tell you something,” Kaivan said softly but firmly. He forced himself to meet her gaze, though his heart felt as if it were caving in.

Rina tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her expression. “Oh? What is it? You look so serious today,” she said, her smile easing the tension in his chest.

But before Kaivan could continue, hurried footsteps cut into the moment. Dandi appeared at Rina’s side, clad in a black leather jacket that gave him an effortlessly striking presence. “Babe! Finally, I made it. Sorry I’m late,” he said, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.

Rina’s face brightened as she welcomed him. “Ah, you’re not late at all. I was just chatting with Kaivan,” she replied, shifting her seat slightly to make space for him.

The word babe struck Kaivan like a slap. It echoed in his ears, shattering every fragile hope he had built. He remained frozen there, trying to mask the ache spreading through his chest.

“So, babe, how about a movie this evening?” Dandi asked, seemingly oblivious to Kaivan’s presence.

“Sure! That sounds like fun,” Rina answered enthusiastically. Their laughter filled the space around the desk, clashing harshly with the silence pressing down on Kaivan.

He tried to summon the courage to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, useless. All he could do was watch, feeling smaller with every second. At last, he stood slowly.

“Never mind… I just remembered I have something to do,” he muttered. His voice was so faint it was drowned out by their laughter.

“Oh, you’re leaving already? Take care, Kaivan!” Rina called out, still smiling.

He nodded weakly before stepping away. The bright sky no longer felt beautiful. All the colors seemed drained, swallowed by the darkness gathering inside him.

Beneath the crimson evening sky, Kaivan walked along the sidewalk with aimless steps. In his hand, he clutched the battered notebook. The poems inside, once brimming with love, now felt empty and meaningless.

The Star Beyond Reach.

The title on the page stared back at him, a mirror of his own existence. His eyes lingered on the words with quiet agony, his chest heavy as if carrying the weight of the world.

“When will I ever meet someone who truly loves me… and whom I can truly love, forever?”

The question slipped out in a whisper, nearly drowned by the roar of passing traffic. Tears pooled in his eyes, yet he forced them back, unwilling to show weakness—not even to himself.

At the busy crossroads, Kaivan brushed past a girl with dark pink hair and bright violet eyes. She strolled leisurely, tapping away at her phone, but Kaivan was far too lost in his own storm of thoughts to even notice her.

That night, beneath the quiet canopy of stars, Kaivan sat alone in the park near his house. The night breeze carried the scent of damp grass, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness in his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unstoppable.

“Why, Rina? Why? I was always kind to you, always invited you to eat together…” he whispered, as if the twinkling stars above might listen. But the sky offered no answer. His words scattered like empty wishes—unheard, uncared for.

And then, like a sudden breeze in midsummer, Tania appeared in his life. One morning at school, she walked over to him with her long brown hair flowing softly and a sweet smile that seemed able to thaw even the coldest of hearts. She placed a bottle of juice and a bar of chocolate on his desk.

“Kaivan, you’ve looked down lately. Is something wrong?” she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

Kaivan lifted his head, meeting her sincere gaze. For the first time in a long while, he felt as though someone truly cared. “I… I’ve just had a lot on my mind, Tania. But I’ll be fine.”

“If something’s bothering you, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay? I’ll be here for you,” Tania said with a warm smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat before returning to her seat.

As days passed, Tania’s presence in Kaivan’s life grew. They shared stories in the cafeteria, walked home together, even studied side by side in the library. Her attention wrapped around him like a gentle embrace, and Kaivan began to believe he wasn’t alone anymore. Each smile from her sent his heart racing, and hope began to stir in him—that maybe, just maybe, this time love wouldn’t break him.

But reality, cruel as ever, shattered that fragile dream.

One afternoon, beneath the great tree in the schoolyard, Kaivan finally gathered the courage to speak. “Tania, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Tania turned to him, her expression tender. “What is it, Kaivan?”

He drew a deep breath, summoning all his strength. “I… I like you, Tania. I don’t know how else to say this, but I feel like you’re the person I’ve been searching for all this time. I want us to be more than just friends.”

Tania went silent for a heartbeat before smiling softly. “Kaivan, I truly appreciate your feelings. But for now, I think it’s best if we stay friends. You’re a very important friend to me, and I don’t want to lose that. But… maybe after we graduate, you can introduce me to your parents,” she added with an ambiguous tone.

Her last words lit a fragile spark of hope in him. Yet as time passed, that warmth felt hollow. Tania’s once tender gestures began to feel rehearsed, false. More and more, Kaivan saw her with Rina and Dandi, laughing together without him.

One evening, suspicion gnawed at him until he could no longer ignore it. He followed, and at the small café they often gathered in, Kaivan found them—Tania, Rina, and Dandi—seated together, laughter spilling freely. He crept closer, listening from outside the window.

“Kaivan’s so easy to use,” Tania said with a laugh. “He’ll buy me anything, probably because he’s never been close to a pretty girl before.”

Rina laughed with her. “He really thought you liked him. Back then, I even had a feeling he was going to confess to me—but thank goodness Dandi showed up, or he might have actually done it.”

Kaivan’s world collapsed. Each word was a blade, carving deep into his chest, tearing apart what little faith he had left. With leaden steps, he turned away, unnoticed. His tears fell unchecked as he stumbled down the street, feeling as though everything—trust, hope, even himself—had been stripped away.

And yet, in the dimly lit corner of the street, someone was watching. A girl with long black hair and eyes that glowed a piercing red. She stood still, gaze sharp and unyielding. But Kaivan, drowning in his grief, never saw her.

Under the city’s thousand glittering lights, Kaivan walked on. His black jacket hung loosely from his thin frame. His face was a mask of cold detachment, but inside, storms raged endlessly. Every step dragged him down, as if the bitter weight of his past clawed at his heels, refusing to let him go.

A few days later, Tania stood across the street, greeting him with that sweet smile that once made Kaivan’s heart race. Now, that same smile only left a bitter taste.

“Kaivan! Over here!” she called, waving enthusiastically. The neon lights from the café behind her shimmered against her flowing hair, making her appear radiant.

Kaivan paused, forcing a smile that barely reached his eyes. “Hey, Tania,” he replied flatly, masking the storm inside. He stepped closer, watching how her energy and brightness stood in stark contrast to his own shadowed presence.

They sat together at a corner table, the air filled with the aroma of coffee and the gentle laughter of other patrons. Tania ordered her favorite latte, while Kaivan settled for just mineral water. His hand trembled slightly as he held the glass, quickly hiding it beneath the table. Though they sat face-to-face, it felt as though an invisible wall loomed between them.

Leaning forward, Tania rested her chin on her interlaced hands. “What’s wrong with you lately, Kaivan? You’ve seemed down all the time. You used to be so lively. I liked that Kaivan—the one who always made me laugh.”

Kaivan searched her eyes, hoping to find sincerity there. Yet all he saw was his own uncertain reflection staring back at him. “I’m just... thinking about a lot of things. That’s all,” he muttered.

Tania smiled softly. “Well, whatever it is, I’m here for you. You know that, right? I’ll always be here.”

But behind those words, Kaivan felt something else—something sharp and suffocating. He lowered his gaze, hiding the cracks forming in his expression. Every word she spoke pierced him like thorns sinking deeper into his heart.

A few days after that meeting, Tania invited Kaivan to a luxurious restaurant in the heart of the city. The walls were adorned with tall mirrors and glittering crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow across the room. A formally dressed waiter guided them to a corner table, setting a mood that felt romantic—though Kaivan’s heart was far from it.

Tania chuckled lightly as she scanned the menu. “Kaivan, look at this. They have wagyu steak that supposedly melts in your mouth! Let’s order that, okay?”

Kaivan only nodded, feeling more like a puppet moving to her strings. When the food arrived, Tania ate with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as she commented on how delicious the steak was. But for Kaivan, every bite was tasteless. Eventually, he found the courage to ask.

“Tania… do you really enjoy spending time with me?” His voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the clinking of silverware around them.

Tania looked up, momentarily surprised, then let out a soft laugh. “Of course, Kaivan! I love having a good meal, especially when it’s with you. Besides, you’re the most special person to me.”

The answer sounded sweet, yet it left a bitter aftertaste in his chest. Tania’s smile looked sincere, but beneath it lingered something Kaivan couldn’t trust. Her words felt like a mask, never revealing what lay underneath.

That night, they walked home together. The night breeze danced through Tania’s long hair, making her appear like a flawless figure beneath the glow of streetlights. But in Kaivan’s eyes, that beauty was veiled in shadows. Each step felt as though he was walking further away—from her, and from himself.

“Kaivan, don’t sulk like that. We’re out on a nice walk, you should be happy,” Tania said, slipping her hand around his arm. “I think you’d look even more handsome if you smiled more.”

Kaivan forced a smile, though it felt like a burden. Deep inside, he knew this happiness wasn’t his. That smile was just another mask—one of many he had learned to wear in front of others.

As time passed, the distance between them became undeniable. Kaivan began to drift away, spending more time in the library, surrounded by stacks of books that became his escape from reality. Yet even then, his thoughts wandered endlessly. The shadow of Tania haunted him, like a ghost of the past that refused to fade.

He isolated himself, deliberately avoiding the cheerful laughter of his friends. Day after day, he chose the farthest corner of the library. Immersed in worlds of fiction, he often caught himself daydreaming, imagining a life where he had true companions—nakama who would walk beside him toward a shared purpose.

But no matter how deep he buried himself in fantasy, the weight of disappointment never left his heart. One afternoon, as he flipped through the pages of a novel, the sound of approaching footsteps broke his trance. Looking up, he found Tania standing before him, her smile radiant as ever.

“Kaivan, why are you always alone? Come on, talk to me!” she said brightly, pulling out the chair across from him without waiting for permission.

“I’m fine, Tania. Don’t worry about me,” he answered flatly, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it gripped the book.

Unsatisfied, Tania leaned closer. “Kaivan, I know you’re not fine. You don’t have to pretend. I’m here to listen.”

Kaivan exhaled deeply and closed his book with deliberate slowness. “I don’t want to burden anyone, Tania. It’s better if you don’t get involved.” His voice was quiet, yet resolute. With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving her stunned in silence.

Days turned into weeks, and Kaivan only withdrew further. Every invitation Tania extended—to hang out, to laugh, to share—was met with excuses that grew hollower with each refusal. The school, once lively, now felt like suffocating walls pressing in on him. Friends who once filled his days with warmth now seemed impossibly distant.

“Kaivan,” Tania called softly one afternoon, touching his shoulder as he stared blankly out the window. “Why are you like this? Did I do something wrong?”

He turned slowly, his vacant eyes meeting hers. “Tania… I need time alone.” His words were barely more than a whisper.

Tania bit her lip, her disappointment spilling into her voice. “I just want to help you, Kaivan. I care about you,” she pleaded, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

But Kaivan only shook his head. “I’m sorry… but I can’t.” And with that, he walked away once more, leaving Tania frozen in place.

Elsewhere, Tania vented her pain to her friends. In the corner of the cafeteria, she spoke with a trembling voice. “Why is Kaivan like this? I was serious about him. We even promised that after graduation, we’d take our relationship further.” Her head bowed, tears threatening to fall.

A girl with her hair tied in a ponytail placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve you, Tania. You’ve turned down so many guys for him, and he just makes you cry.”

Those words stirred the group, igniting a tide of judgment. Soon, Kaivan became the easy target of their ridicule. In the classroom, the whispers turned to jeers, cutting deeper than any silence could.

“Hey, orphan boy! How dare you ignore the prettiest girl in school!” one voice mocked, sparking cruel laughter.

“Look at that haircut—like a bowl! Think you’re some kind of cool guy?” another sneered.

On a park bench, Kaivan sat alone, watching the autumn leaves fall. Memories of fleeting happiness resurfaced, so fragile they felt like dreams that had never been real. Without realizing it, tears trickled down his cheeks.

“To be close to Tania is to be used. To stay away from her is to be mocked,” he muttered to himself, his chest heavy with despair. He felt trapped, caught between two cliffs that promised only ruin.

“I won’t let this pain control me anymore,” he whispered hoarsely. Every insult, every wound—they would become bricks, stacked high to build his wall of protection. Perhaps one day, his life would be nothing more than chains guiding his steps forward, head bowed, dragged by a fate he could neither fight nor escape.

One night, in the depths of silence, Kaivan woke drenched in sweat. The nightmare had returned—faces mocking him, Tania laughing, and himself standing alone amidst ruin. He rubbed his face and stared into the mirror by his bed.

“Kaivan, what are you searching for?”

He asked the reflection, but no answer came. Only silence—deafening and suffocating.

When dawn broke, Kaivan made his way back to the library, the only place that ever gave him peace. There, he drowned himself in oceans of words, hoping to find a fragment of solace. Yet deep down, he knew escape was never the answer.

“Maybe one day, I won’t live like a hedgehog,” he thought, though doubt still lingered in his heart. For now, all he could do was hope and endure, piecing together the shattered fragments of himself.

After a year of tears and disappointments, Kaivan stepped into a new class, his heart weighed down. The reshuffling of students meant a new beginning for some—but for him, it was the end of familiarity. Rina, Dandi, Tania… the friends who once anchored his world were gone. Now, his mornings began with weary footsteps toward school, as though the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders.

The school hallways, usually alive with laughter and chatter, felt like a foreign realm to Kaivan. Every step carried an ache he couldn’t put into words. To him, those voices were nothing more than echoes of a past he could never touch again. He walked with his head slightly lowered, every footfall a reminder of how far he had drifted from the happiness he once knew.

“Why do I even have to be here?”

The thought surfaced as he clutched the strap of his bag tightly. His face remained expressionless, but his eyes revealed a sorrow too deep to hide.

The next morning, Kaivan walked to school with sluggish steps. The morning chill wrapped around the city, but he paid it no mind. His head hung low, thoughts drowned in an ocean of sorrow. As he passed through the school gates, his frail frame seemed almost invisible among the taller, sturdier students. He didn’t notice the boy standing right in front of him—until it was too late.

Thud!

Kaivan’s body collided with another student, sending the books in the boy’s arms scattering across the ground. He lifted his gaze and found himself face-to-face with Radit, a broad-shouldered student whose expression was etched with impatience.

“If you’ve got eyes, use them! Watch where you’re going, idiot!” Radit barked, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of several students nearby. He leaned forward, his tone sharp as a blade, making a few of the onlookers instinctively step back, unwilling to get involved.

Kaivan only stared back with empty eyes. There was no fear, no defiance—just a hollow stillness that words could not capture. Radit scoffed at the sight, his lip curling in disdain.

“Tch, freak,” Radit spat before shoving Kaivan roughly.

Kaivan staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor. He picked himself up immediately, brushing the dust from his uniform without a word. His head remained bowed, as if the entire incident wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna apologize to Radit?” a mocking voice rang out. It was Dani, a sly-faced boy from Radit’s group, stepping forward with a smirk.

“S-sorry… I didn’t see,” Kaivan murmured so softly it was almost lost in the noise of the hallway. Still, it was enough for Dani to snort.

“What a weirdo,” he muttered before retreating to his group. Radit chuckled and walked off as if nothing had happened.

Inside the classroom, the social hierarchy spread out like a messy abstract painting—leaders, followers, the popular, the kind, the beautiful, the handsome. Yet in the darker corners sat the victims, marked as weak, awkward, easy prey for ridicule and violence.

Kaivan sat at his desk, pulling out a novel with an unreadable expression. To him, the classroom noise was nothing more than irrelevant background static—the laughter, the loud conversations, the playful arguments, all echoes from a world he could no longer touch.

“Why should I care?” he thought, his blank gaze fixed on the page.

Each day passed with stabbing monotony, like a song with no harmony. Kaivan sank deeper into himself, wrapped in sorrow. Every smile he saw, every burst of laughter, only reminded him of how distant he was from it all.

But his empty stare didn’t escape the eyes of those always hungry for new prey. A broad-shouldered boy with neatly combed hair swaggered up, his grin sharp with provocation. Behind him, several others followed, waiting for the cue.

“Why are you looking at us like that, huh?” His voice was loud enough to turn heads across the classroom. Curious eyes began to shift toward them.

Kaivan lifted his head slowly, his hollow eyes meeting the boy’s. He shook his head faintly, trying to avoid confrontation.

“Sorry. It’s nothing,” he answered in a low, emotionless voice.

“Look at him, just sitting there all quiet! Thinks he’s cool, huh?” one of the boys jeered. The atmosphere thickened, tense yet expectant, like the prelude to a stage play. Kaivan kept his silence, turning his eyes to the window instead.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the start of class, Kaivan exhaled in relief. But that relief was only an illusion.

After school, in a deserted hallway, Kaivan found himself cornered by the same group. Their words lashed out like knives.

“Hey, the orphan thinks he’s cool, huh? Just keeps quiet, doesn’t even answer when spoken to!” One of them, the dominant one, drove his fist into Kaivan’s stomach.

His frail body stumbled back, pain radiating sharp and slow. His breath caught in his throat, but Kaivan didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He only stood there, eyes downcast, gaze stripped of hope.

Days bled into one another, and the violence became routine. Every punch, every taunt, etched itself into the bleak rhythm of his life. Yet within him, something began to shift. The long-buried hatred flickered into a small flame.

“Why should I care?” he muttered again one day, his voice raw. But this time, the tone was different. A silent decision had taken root.

He would not let them destroy him completely.

Slowly, Kaivan began building walls around his emotions. He shut the world out, becoming cold, apathetic. In class, he observed everything with the sharp gaze of an analyst. When he saw another classmate fall victim to bullying, he felt no sympathy. Instead, he studied. He traced patterns in the social order, calculating strategies for survival.