Chapter 27: A Hallucination?

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: A Hallucination?

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The digital hum of my alarm sounded like a constant beep. My eyes snapped open.

For a terrifying, micro-second fraction of a morning, I expected to see the very things I feared right in front of me. Instead, I was greeted by the soft, ambient glow of my ceiling’s smart-led strip, currently pulsed to a gentle amber sunrise sequence and the faint, high-frequency whine of the home atmospheric filter scrubbing the dampness out of the air.

I lay there for a long moment, staring up at the white plaster. My joints felt like they had been packed with dried mortar overnight. My mouth tasted like copper and bile. The heavy duvet was still tucked tightly around my shoulders, just as it had been when....

Maria..

I sat up abruptly, my head throbbing in protest against the sudden movement. I winced, pressing the heel of my palm to my temple.

Is it morning already?

"Ugh, killer headache... classic." I muttered the complaint under my breath, instantly defaulting to basic self-pity to cope with the lingering weight of sheer, unadulterated terror.

It was an instinct, really. When reality threatens to snap your spine, you pretend you’re just a tired high school kid suffering from a lack of caffeine and too much screentime. Standard procedure

I’m still shaking from it...

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat on the frame. The cold floorboards shocked some life back into my soles.

Glancing toward the door, my eyes narrowed. The solid composite door was firmly shut. Right beside the frame, the recessed glass panel of the biometric lock was glowing a steady, cool blue.

Locked.

I stared at it. I remembered locking it last night before I collapsed onto the bed. I remembered the heavy metallic click. But then... Maria had come in. She had brushed the hair from my forehead, placed a cool rag over my brow, and tucked me in.

I looked down at the nightstand. There was no washbasin or no damp cloth.

Just my phone, fully charged on its wireless pad, and my silver student ID card reflecting the amber ceiling lights.

A chill, thin and sharp as a razor blade, slithered down my spine.

"Don’t start," I told myself sternly, running both hands over my face. Do not start down that rabbit hole at seven in the morning. You’re just sleep-deprived. Your brain was frying itself, so it cooked up a nice, comforting hallucination to keep you from having a heart attack. Case closed.

It was a neat, logical human excuse. I was pretty good at building those when I needed to keep myself from completely unraveling back when I was still at Elemetary.

I forced myself up, standing on legs that felt like hollow plastic tubes. Routine was the only hope I had right now. If I gave up the routine, I gave it up , and if the it slipped... well, I’d end up in a psych ward before homeroom.

I shuffled into the adjoining bathroom. The polished chrome fixture of the sink was spotless, Maria must have cleaned up whatever mess I made yesterday before I lost my mind entirely. I tapped the smart-mirror’s touch interface. The glass instantly lit up, displaying the weather forecast, the morning news feed scrolling in silent text at the bottom, and a harsh, high-definition reflection of my own face.

I looked awful. Dark, bruised shadows hung under my eyes, and my skin had a sallow, drained look to it.

Great. I look like a background extra from a zombie flick, I mumbled, picking up my sonic toothbrush.

I went through the motions with mechanical precision, brush, wash face with cold water. Apply the tinted moisture cream my Maria bought me months ago to hide the dark circles, because looking like a functional member of society was fifty percent of the battle.

Stepping back into the bedroom, I approached the closet. The automated track glided back smoothly, presenting my neatly pressed school uniform. I pulled on the crisp white shirt, buttoning it up to the collar, followed by the dark trousers. Lastly, I reached for the silver ID card resting on the nightstand.

The card was sleek, a heavy piece of brushed silver alloy embedded with an encrypted micro-chip and a faint holographic crest of our academy. I placed it on my wallet then to my pants pocket.

I took a deep breath, puffed out my chest, and adjusted my collar. I smoothed down my hair, fixing my posture until I looked like a quiet, somewhat mature teenager ready to tackle another mundane day. The mask was back on. Fastened securely.

I walked to the door and pressed my thumb against the biometric scanner.

BEEP-CLICK.

The green light flashed, the heavy internal bolts retracted and i opened the door into the quiet hallway.

Step

Step

Step

The air outside my room smelled of fresh brewed dark-roast coffee and sizzling tamagoyaki.

I walked down the hallway, keeping my footsteps light and deliberate. The wall-mounted security sensor near the top of the stairwell, a tiny, recessed camera lens barely larger than a pinhole swiveled silently, tracking my movement as I descended.

The house was fully digitized, an fortress of comfort and high-tech security. Yet, last night, I had felt completely exposed. Privacy and freedom was something I think I have seen or witness in this world, I’m sure someone like Aki would stare at the camera’s or do some weird shit.

Stop it, Oota. Focus on the coffee.

It’s another day of school, I just hope it’s not as intense as yesterday

Yesterday...

I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the dining area. I don’t think I’m thinking straight in a logical line anymore, must still be feelings it. I just hope this doesn’t affect ne in school.

The morning sun filtered brightly through the floor-to-ceiling smart glass windows, which had automatically adjusted their tint to block the harsh morning glare. Sitting at the long wooden table was Erza.

She’s up early today.

My six-year-old cousin looked tiny in the large dining chair, dressed in her elementary uniform. Her long, ink-black hair was neatly combed today, falling over her shoulders.

She was silently poking a piece of rolled egg with her fork, her dull, crimson eyes fixed entirely on her plate.

Over by the kitchen island, Maria was moving back and forth in her green apron, setting down plates with practiced efficiency.

"Good morning," I said, my voice smooth, controlled, and surprisingly steady.

Maria turned around, her face instantly lighting up with a mix of relief and bright warmth.

Her appearance was around her mid 20s to early late 20s, her brown hair packed as a ponytail fashion and violet eyes. Underneath her clothing was a casual wear attire of a blue Jean and white t-shirt.

"Ah, Kageyama-kun! Good morning! You’re awake! How are you feeling today?"

Erza didn’t speak. She merely paused her fork, her dark red eyes lifting slowly to lock onto mine. There was a weird, intense silence in her gaze. A heavy scrutiny that made my skin itch. But I didn’t let my expression flicker.

"I’m feeling much better today, thank you," I said, walking over to the table and pulling out a chair. I sat down smoothly, placing my hands on my lap.

I looked at Maria, then turned my head slightly to include Erza in my line of sight.

I must have wronged them yesterday, I feel bad for what I did.

"First... I want to apologize for yesterday," I began, pitching my tone to sound embarrassed, sensible, and thoroughly grounded.

"To both of you. I acted completely unrationally last night."

Maria paused mid-reach, holding a pitcher of fresh orange juice.

"Oh, Kageyama-kun, you don’t need to apologize-"

"No, I do," I interrupted gently, offering a faint, sheepish smile. I was trying to act as matured as possible not to look bad in front of them but some of me knew how childish I sounded or looked.

"I had a really bad migraine coming on while I was walking home in the rain...."

"By the time I reached the front gate, my head was throbbing so hard I was practically nauseous. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t think, and I..."

" Well, I was just overwhelmed and snapped. It was incredibly rude of me to brush you off like that, Maria. And to ignore you, Erza."

I glanced at my cousin. Erza didn’t blink. She just kept staring at me, her small jaw set.

"....."

"....."

"....."

It wasn’t a lie. My head had been throbbing, and I had been nauseous.

Maria’s face softened completely, her maternal worry replaced by deep sympathy.

"A migraine? Oh, dear, you should have said something! Rain and low atmospheric pressure always trigger those. I thought you were upset with us!"

"Not at all," I replied, shaking my head.

"I was just being a bit dramatic because of the pain. I went straight to bed and knocked out."

I paused, leaning forward slightly, my expression shifting to one of genuine, polite gratitude as I looked at Maria.

"And... thank you, Maria. For coming upstairs to check on me later."

Maria blinked, tilting her head in obvious confusion. "Checking on you?"

"Yeah," I continued, scratching the back of my neck with a faint, embarrassed laugh.

"I know I locked the door earlier, but... well, I remember you coming in when my fever spiked. "

"You put a cold cloth on my forehead and stayed until I calmed down. I know it was pretty childish of me to be freaked out over a fever dream, so... thanks."

"....It really helped."

The kitchen fell into a strange, suspended silence. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator.

Maria set the orange juice pitcher down on the counter. Her brow furrowed, a genuine, bewildered look washing over her features.

"Kageyama-kun... what are you talking about?" she asked softly. I froze, my hand hovering mid-air near my neck.

"Huh?"

"I didn’t come upstairs last night," Maria said, her voice entirely earnest.

"I tried to knock on your door about twenty minutes after you ran up, but the electronic lock was engaged, and the privacy setting was turned on."

"I didn’t want to force the override and disturb you....."

"So I stayed downstairs in the living room the whole evening worrying about you until I went to sleep at eleven."

My breath caught in my throat. The room seemed to tilt slightly on its axis.

"You... you didn’t?" I asked, my voice dropping its smooth composure for a fraction of a second before I forced it back into line.

"You didn’t come in with a wet towel? You didn’t... stroke my hair?"

"No," Maria said, walking closer to the table, her concern returning, though for a completely different reason now.

"I was downstairs the entire time."

"...."

"..."

"The master security panel logs all door accesses, Kageyama-kun. Your bedroom door wasn’t unlocked from the inside or outside until seven minutes ago when you stepped out."

My mind went completely, terrifyingly blank.

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"The term ’Perfect’ is a concept that doesn’t exist among man"

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