Chapter 6 : Symptoms Unknown
1361 Words
His eyes wandered, following the motion of the ball as it rolled toward the far edge of the field.
That’s when he saw it. A figure. It looked like a person, but not quite. Too still. Too dark against the light. Almost like a shadow cast by nothing.
His chest tightened. He blinked, slowly. Once. Twice. He pulled off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.
Now it was just a boy holding a ball. Laughing. Shouting for a pass. Nothing strange. Nothing out of place.
Rheon exhaled quietly and turned his gaze back to the desk. The bell rang.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Pens clicked. Papers fluttered onto desks.
Rheon sat straight, adjusting his pencils and eraser into a perfect line. His test paper was already on the table, untouched but familiar.
He glanced at the first question. He knew the answer. No hesitation. He wrote it down. Then the second. Still easy.
Halfway through the page, he paused for a breath. And that’s when it hit.
A sharp sound—deep and ringing—like an explosion had gone off right beside his ear. His head jerked. He clenched his teeth and grabbed both sides of his head, palms covering his ears.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Not now. Not during the exam. Not again.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grounding himself with the feel of the desk under his fingertips. His breathing slowed. The sound faded.
“I’m fine,” he whispered under his breath. He opened his eyes again. And blinked.
The paper in front of him was blurred. Not the text—his vision. The room suddenly felt too bright. Too silent.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his glasses again. But something wasn’t right. His ear was burning.
A slow, creeping heat spread through the side of his head, flushing bright red down to his neck. The ringing had stopped, but the warmth remained — like something had been branded there, just beneath the skin.
He winced, pressing his palm gently to the side of his face. From the front of the room, a voice broke the silence.
“Rheon?”
He looked up. His homeroom teacher had been watching him for a while. Concern flickered in her eyes, though she kept her voice quiet so the others wouldn’t be disturbed. “You okay?”
Rheon nodded quickly, though the movement made his vision tilt for a second.
“Yes, ma’am. Just… a small headache. She gave him a longer look, then walked over slowly, placing her hand lightly on the edge of his desk.
“Do you want to step out for a bit?”
He hesitated. His body said yes. His pride said no. “ I’ll finish,” he whispered. “It’s okay now.”
She didn’t press further. Just gave a small nod and returned to the front.
Rheon inhaled. Exhaled. Then looked back at his paper. But the words on the page were still swimming. And his ears… were still burning.
An hour had passed. He felt better now.
No ringing. No pain. Just the usual hum of thoughts that came after finishing an exam.
Maybe it was just stress. Or too much reading. That made the most sense, he told himself. He had barely slept last night. It could have been anything.
The exam was over, and the classroom had loosened into a comfortable noise. Some students were packing up. Others were chatting in corners or lying across desks like their souls had left them.
Rheon stood up and stretched lightly. “ I’ll freshen up.”
He made his way down the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door.
Then stopped.
Tension clung to the air the moment he stepped in.Inside, there was a low argument. No shouting. Just sharp voices. Firm words. Enough to freeze his footsteps.
He recognized one of the voices.The tall senior. Again.
He was standing near the sinks, slightly leaning toward a shorter student who kept his eyes down.
“I said,” the tall one repeated, “was it you who gave her the note?” The student shook his head quickly, but didn’t speak.
Rheon instinctively began to step back, ready to let the door close and walk away.
But the tall boy turned and spotted him. His expression shifted into something unreadable.
Then, a smile. “You want to use the toilet, right? Come in. Don’t be scared. It’s not like I want to fight with you.”
He spoke lightly, but there was an edge in his tone.
As he said it, he moved away from the sinks and leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
Rheon hesitated, then walked in with careful steps.
His eyes stayed low, avoiding the stare. He just needed to wash his face. That was all.
Nothing strange .Nothing loud. Nothing he couldn’t survive. Rheon stood at the sink, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
He turned the tap and began washing his hands, but his fingers trembled slightly. His face was damp with sweat, though the room wasn’t hot.
He just wanted to leave. Behind him, the tall boy watched with interest.
“I don’t see you often,” he said, voice low but clear. “What class are you in?”
Rheon swallowed hard. “Honors Class… Room 3-B.”
His tone was soft, fearful. The boy tilted his head. “Really? Then…”
He stepped closer. “You must know__”
He didn’t finish.Because in the mirror, just behind Rheon’s shoulder, something moved.
A shape. Dark and unnatural. Crawling up the wall like smoke, twisting without a form, reaching.
Rheon saw it.Only in the reflection. His breath stopped.Then—
“ARGHHHHHHHH!”
He screamed so loud his own voice echoed off the tiles. Everyone jumped.
The tall boy stumbled back in shock, almost dropping the water bottle in his hand.
“What the—”
Rheon clutched the edge of the sink, nearly slipping. His face had gone pale. His knees nearly buckled.
The other boys stood frozen, staring at him like he had lost his mind.
The tall boy scowled. “What’s wrong with you?”
He pointed to his own face. “Do I look like a ghost? Or is it my jawline? Maybe it’s too sharp, huh? You scared of this perfection?”
He turned to the mirror dramatically, admiring himself with a mock pout.
“Damn. No wonder people scream.” The others began to laugh, unsure whether it was fear or comedy taking over the room now.
But Rheon didn’t laugh. He kept staring into the mirror. The shape was gone. Only their reflections remained. And yet, his hands… were still shaking.
Rheon didn’t wait for more questions. He rushed out of the bathroom, heart pounding, eyes wide.
He didn’t stop until he reached the classroom, grabbing his bag and stuffing his things inside without a word. A few classmates gave him strange looks, but he didn’t care.
He headed straight to the school clinic. The white curtains. The smell of antiseptic. The soft ticking of a clock. A woman in her mid-40s sat at the desk, sorting some files.
She looked up as he walked in, breathless. “Yes?”
“I think I’m… sick,” he mumbled.
She stood. “Fever?”
He shook his head. “No… I don’t know.”
She walked over, gently guiding him to the cot. “What’s your name? And your class?”
“Seo Rheon. Honors Class, Room 3-B.”
She noted it down. “And what symptoms are you feeling?”
Rheon hesitated. Then said it all at once, like spilling water from a cracked glass.
“My ear’s burning. My vision went blurry. And I think… a ghost might be chasing me.”
There was a silence.The woman blinked. Then gave a nervous chuckle.
“Well, that’s… vivid.” She grabbed the blood pressure cuff. “Let me check your BP first, alright?”
Rheon sat quietly as she wrapped the band around his arm. He wasn’t sure if anything made sense anymore. He wasn’t sure if he made sense.
- Writer
