Protagonist Syndrome

Chapter 2: The Day Everything Changed

I’m jolted awake by the sharp snap of bed sheets in the air, followed by the aggressive fluffing of a pillow. My first thought? Too early. Too loud. Too much energy for this hour.

What time even is it? If I don’t get out of bed soon, I’ll definitely be late for school. But my limbs feel like lead. My brain is still wrapped in that foggy, just-woke-up haze, and my head’s pulsing like I’ve been up all night cramming for finals.

The only silver lining? The awful cold I had for days finally seems to be gone. At least my nose isn’t clogged anymore, so I can breathe. Small victories.

Grudgingly, I c***k my eyes open and spot Jia darting around the room. Her hair is tied back neatly, uniform crisp and unwrinkled.

This… is new.

Usually, at this hour, Jia is still cocooned in her blankets like a human burrito. Seeing her fully dressed, already moving, is like spotting a rare animal in the wild.

Which explains why I usually end up going to school alone.

“What time is it?” I mumble, voice scratchy, rubbing my eyes.

Last night’s dream lingers in the back of my mind—so vivid it’s almost uncomfortable. I dreamt I was pulled into a black hole and landed in the world from Jia’s favorite book. I saw the male leads as if they were real, their faces so clear I could count their eyelashes. The whole thing had this unsettling, too-real edge that still makes my stomach flip when I think about it.

“Seven-thirty,” Jia says, glancing at her phone while slipping into her shoes.

My brain double-takes. “What?”

She checks again, lips twitching. “Correction—seven-thirty-two.”

Seven-thirty-two. Class starts at eight. My eyes widen like I’ve just heard the apocalypse is scheduled for today.

Without another word, I launch out of bed, fling my blanket off, and immediately trip over my own foot. Elegant start.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?!” I yell, panic spiking.

My brain is in rapid checklist mode. Clothes—where’s my uniform? Shower? Forget it. Backpack? Packed. Shoes? Downstairs.

I splash water on my face, brush my teeth like I’m in a speed competition, and rush back to my room. Pajamas off, uniform on. My fingers fly over the buttons—possibly setting a personal record for fastest uniform change in human history. A quick spray of perfume, because if I can’t smell like fresh laundry, I can at least smell like “vanilla morning breeze” or whatever this bottle claims.

“I can’t believe I overslept…” I mutter, trying to smooth my hair into something that won’t scare people.

Mom and Dad are overseas again, dragging my older brother with them for some business trip. They won’t be back for months, which means mornings like this are pretty much a free-for-all.

We somehow reach the school gates with ten minutes to spare. My perfect attendance record survives another day. Jia jogs beside me, looking far too relaxed for someone nearly late.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red—a Lamborghini gliding through the gates. My brows pull together. I don’t know anyone in this school with that kind of car. Definitely not standard “teacher parking lot” material.

On top of that, there’s a buzz in the air. Students whispering about something called “A4.”

The deeper we head into the halls, the weirder things get.

When did the school get this many vending machines? Whole rows of them, lined up like a snack army. There’s also a brand-new window that definitely wasn’t here two days ago. Can someone just… install an entire window overnight?

And the walls. They’re not the dull green I’ve been stuck looking at since freshman year. They’re now a deep, sleek navy blue. Not just painted either—decorated, like we’re in a private academy from some drama series. The ceiling has been redone, with detailed molding that makes me feel underdressed just walking under it.

And it’s not just this hallway. Every corridor we pass through is transformed. Yesterday’s public school is today’s luxury showroom.

I was only absent for a day. How is this even possible?

We’re almost to our classroom when I stop so suddenly Jia bumps into me.

“What now?” she asks, frowning.

I can’t answer right away. I step into the classroom, freeze, step back out, check the sign above the door.

A-12. My classroom.

But… when did it get an air conditioner? Or new windows? Or… everything?

The once cramped, slightly depressing room is now twice the size. The scuffed walls are spotless. Sunlight streams in from doubled windows, making the polished floor shine. Even the chairs and desks look expensive enough to sell on an auction site.

“What on earth is going on?” I whisper to myself.

Jia is already halfway to her seat. “You coming?”

I hesitate. This feels too familiar. Blue walls. Hall full of vending machines. Exactly like… the world in Jia’s book.

My pulse jumps. No. That’s ridiculous. Things from books don’t just pop into reality. I’m being dramatic.

“Guess what?” Jia says suddenly.

“What?” I ask, distracted.

“I didn’t study for today’s quiz. So… it’s all on you, okay?” She smirks.

“Yeah, sure,” I say dryly. “If you promise to stop acting like an i***t and sit down.”

She actually agrees—no protest, no sass. Weird.

The room goes quiet. The kind of quiet that prickles at the back of your neck. My eyes follow the shift in the air to a guy sitting near the middle of the room. He’s staring at Jia. No—glaring.

I’ve never seen him before, but the way they’re locking eyes feels like some unspoken battle is happening right here.

He’s the first to look away. I nudge Jia. “You know him?”

She doesn’t break her stare. “Who doesn’t? That’s Rehan King.”