The next day were a blur of monotonous routines. The bell rang. The teachers droned on. Students came and went, talking in groups, laughing over jokes Liewen didn't understand. He moved from class to class, a nameless face in a sea of bodies, always there but never really seen.
That was the way it had always been, really. For as long as he could remember, Liewen had been a background character in his own life. He didn't need to be anything more. He didn't need the noise.
But the noise followed him.
It was during a history class that Liewen's day started to twist. He had barely listened to the lesson about the Industrial Revolution—history, to him, was a collection of facts, half of which seemed irrelevant—and had instead kept his gaze on the window, where the clouds hung low in the sky, casting a gray pallor over the schoolyard.
Then he felt it. The prickle on the back of his neck. The low murmur of laughter. A presence that he couldn't ignore.
Liewen turned his head slightly, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye.
Jason.
He was sitting in the row ahead, arms crossed, his eyes flickering between the teacher and Liewen. There was no mistaking the look—the one that always preceded a confrontation. It was a game to him, Liewen knew. A way to pass the time. But it was never a game to Liewen.
The rest of the class continued around them, but in that small bubble of space, the world seemed to slow. Liewen's pulse quickened, his fingers tightening on the edge of his desk. He didn't know why, but his body responded before his mind could catch up.
Just a few more minutes. He had to survive this. He had to pretend he didn't care.
But Jason leaned back in his chair, his eyes now fully trained on Liewen, and that was all it took. The world crashed back in.
"Hey," Jason called out, his voice loud enough to make heads turn. "What's with the zombie act? You should be paying attention. But then again, I don't think anyone expects much from you, huh?"
A few laughs scattered across the room. Liewen's gaze dropped to his desk. He could feel it—everyone watching, waiting.
Liewen stayed silent, forcing himself to breathe, to keep his heart rate steady. Jason wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth the trouble.
But it wasn't enough. Jason was relentless.
"You're just like a robot, aren't you? Like one of those things that just sits there all day, doesn't even know what's going on." Jason's voice was sharp, cutting through the air with deliberate malice. "You might as well be one of those drones that just does what it's told."
Liewen's jaw clenched. He could feel his grip tightening on the desk. The words were sharp, but they didn't sting the way they used to. Not like they used to.
Kian glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and Liewen could feel the weight of his friend's gaze. But it didn't matter. Kian had enough of his own problems to worry about.
Then Jason leaned forward, his chair creaking as he shifted. "What, are you gonna cry now, huh? Gonna run away and hide like always?"
Liewen's chest tightened. He could feel the heat rising in his face, the heat of shame and anger mixing in his veins. His fingers twitched. He tried to focus on his breathing, to calm himself. But Jason's voice was in his ears, echoing like a drumbeat, louder and louder.
And then it happened.
One moment, Liewen was sitting there, clenching his fists under the desk, trying to control the spiraling wave of emotions. The next, he felt himself moving before he even realized it.
Without thinking, he stood up—too fast, too jerky. His chair scraped against the floor, sending a sharp sound across the room. He didn't even care. He stepped toward Jason, his vision narrowing, his pulse pounding in his ears.
"Shut up," Liewen muttered, his voice tight. He hated how it sounded. Weak.
Jason's smirk widened, as if he'd been waiting for just this moment. "Oh, look at this. The zombie wants to talk."
Liewen took a step forward, and his breath caught. Something was wrong. Something inside him was shifting. He couldn't explain it, but it was like someone else was in control. The words didn't come from him—not in the way he expected.
His hand moved before he could stop it.
He was pushing Jason—pushing him hard, with all the force he had. Jason stumbled back in surprise, his eyes wide for a moment.
And then Jason's expression turned dark. "What the hell is your problem?"
But it wasn't the words that made Liewen freeze. It was the way Jason's face contorted. The way his body lunged forward, a fist raised. Jason wasn't done. Jason never let things go.
And neither was Liewen.
Just as quickly as the anger had flared, a different feeling flooded in. The world shifted. The air felt heavier, thicker.
Liewen blinked, and suddenly, he was somewhere else.
He didn't know how it had happened, but now his thoughts were different. The anger was gone, replaced by something smaller, more vulnerable. His body felt strange, like it wasn't entirely his own. His legs weren't tall enough, and his arms were too short. He looked down, but instead of his usual reflection, all he saw were small, uncoordinated hands, chubby and small. His feet—he was standing on his toes.
What was happening?
He was standing in front of Jason now, but the rage was gone. Now, all that remained was a deep, undeniable panic.
What was this?
Jason's face had morphed from anger to confusion, but Liewen didn't have time to figure it out. He had to get away. His legs wobbled, and he stumbled backward, his hands reaching out for something—anything—to steady himself.
Liewen's breath hitched, his heart pounding. There were voices now, his thoughts swirling. He couldn't make sense of them. The world around him was too loud, too fast. His arms felt weak, like they couldn't hold him up.
"Liewen?" Kian's voice broke through the fog, but it sounded so far away. "Liewen, what's wrong?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whimper.
Jason was still standing there, staring at him like he had seen a ghost. "What the hell... what are you doing, man?"
Liewen stumbled again, barely catching himself on the edge of a desk. His head was spinning. His thoughts scattered, fragments that didn't make sense.
What was happening to him?
His eyes darted around the classroom, and everything felt too big. Too loud. His body was foreign, and his mind was lost in a sea of noise. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.
"Liewen!"
Kian's voice was clearer now, and Liewen tried to focus on it. Tried to make sense of it.
But it was already too late.