“You fell asleep during my lesson; lately you have been sleeping through classes,” the woman said. “Are you okay, Halin?”

“I am sorry, Ma’am,” Kôra apologized to his homeroom teacher. “It will not happen again.”

“I’m worried that you're having a difficulty sleeping at night. Is there anything bothering you?”

“No. . . No, Ma’am.”

“Are you sure?” she reiterated.

“Yes, Ma’am. I just go sleeping late,” the kid said. “I will make effort to sleep better.”

Miss Tsiyu smiled, a contrived wide one. It snapped Kôra’s mind into a freeze, as if he was caught lying.

“Your arm. . .”

“Cooking accident!” Kôra replied abruptly.

“Halin,” the young woman called with a defeated tone. Kôra caught her gazing to his bandaged arm again. “I know your life has been rough and it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now.”

The boy nodded.

“But,” she continued. “If you ever need anything, there’s me, there are other teachers, and there are your friends too. You can talk to us about everything: friendship problems, or even family problems.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you for the worry but I am alright.”

“You can go,” the teacher said with a weary smile. “After all, your uncle and I share the same familial curse."

Kôra reminisced Haren’s exasperated face this morning.

“Y... Yes, Ma’am,” the boy answered, his enunciation was heavy. “Thank you very much for the worry, Uncle is taking care of me very good.”

“I am going, excuse me.” Kôra nodded to her, and rushed his steps out of the room.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The whirling water was absorbed as he flushed it; the water closet made a louder noise in this empty restroom. Never had he thrown up this much. It smelled foul it could make him throw another more. Kôra washed his mouth and gargled, trying to erase the nasty feeling. All the water inside him felt like it was pulled out; only an acidic coarseness was left. He was in such a thirst, his upper digestive tract was dry like a burnt sandpaper. The revolting lizard soup that he packed as a lunch was all to blame.

Kôra walked out from the restroom, still feeling uneasy after washing his hands and face several times. His head was light, and the lights were too bright. Out there in the hallway, a girl was standing, waiting for him while holding his backpack. A brown-haired girl with a ponytail. Feeling bad, Kôra rushed to her.

“Thanks for helping,” the boy took his backpack from her hand, it was quite heavy. “Let me hold the bag, please. I am very sorry for making such trouble.” Kôra took out his water bottle and guzzled it.

“Are you alright?” the girl asked with a concerned tone, yet she had a bright voice color by default. “If you feel ill, ask your parents to go to the doctor.”

“I am all right, thanks to Orin.” Kôra smiled showing his gratitude, slightly tilting his head up to the taller girl.

“I’m Delven,” she corrected. “Your classmate."

“I am really sorry!” Kôra apologized in panic. “I mistake Delven for other girl with brown hair, sorry!”

“She’s from another class and is a blonde, Kôra,” Delven added. It made Kôra even more mortified considering it has been months since he moved here. Delven put a polite pretense despite her likely disappointment; it separates the popular girl with a boy nobody knows. "Also, it’s Delven, not Telven.”

“Delven,” Kôra repeated with confusion on his face. “I said Delven.”

It still sounded off to her. She could not hide a flash of grimacing. However, Delven did not mind it further; Kôra must be not accustomed yet pronouncing an inexistent letter of his native language.

“Anyway, as you threw up, I guess you should drink and eat more,” the girl handed him a donut from her lunchbox; it was glazed pink and glossy, with some colorful sprinkle topping. “Take this if you want.”

“Thanks Delven, but sweet holed bread is not good idea because sweets is making more nauseous,” Kôra refused. He did not want to cause more burden to Delven. On top of that, he dislikes sweets. Especially with such an ominous color of the flesh.

“But are you sure? You lost your lunch. . .”

“He doesn’t want it, just give it to me,” a voice bitterly demanded in a sudden. Someone had passed by.

“Hel. . . Hello, Talas!” Kôra greeted the taller boy. “Good afternoon!”

“It’s Talst, call me Tal,” he corrected. “And afternoon,” the black-haired boy replied plainly. The upwardly angled viridian eyes was looking anywhere else. His darker under-eyes made him look more aloof; contrasted with his porcelain skin.

“ I think I’ll keep this,” Delven put the donut back in her bag, smiling as she purposely teased Tal.

It was answered by Tal’s silent sullenness, he was indifferent about the donut. Instead, he turned to Kôra and reached something from his gray designer backpack. “This,” Tal handed over a green notebook with fern print cover, there was a black vertical bar on his lower right last digit.

“Tal is very welcome,” Kôra received it with two hands, smiling. “I am very glad Tal finds it helpful, did Tal learn many from it?”

“Kinda,” Talst answered without paying Kôra any attention, not even looking at him. “Can’t you write in Latin? I can't read shit.”

“I am sorry, I am too used with live in village,” Kôra said. “I am not confident, my Latin writing is bad.”

“It’s been six months,” he pointed. “This is a multicultural city, go back to your village if you can’t write.”

“That’s mean, Talst. He needs time to adapt,” Delven reasoned. “If you need any help, just ask us,” she turned back to Kôra, offering her help.

“Anyway, tomorrow is Friday which is extracurricular day,” Tal continued to talk, ignoring Delven and avoiding any response from Kôra. “Why don’t we discuss our group presentation in a cafe?”

“Agree!” Delven affirmed. “Please go to Thierna, before my voucher expires.”

They just want to eat and go out, not actually do work, Kôra thought, rubbing the rings on the side of his notebook. However, his eagerness to know the city more needed to be fulfilled. The culinary and cultural attractions are said to be excellent in Grahein, at least enough to pique him.

“I am sorry but why we must doing it in cafe?” Kôra reasoned. “Cannot we use online media?”

“It’s not like Kasing pissed off because you couldn’t attach a fucking file in your email,” Tal remarked sardonically, reminding the boy of a good scolding he got from the class secretary. He submitted his part late because of it.

“We can teach you to work with it tomorrow, Kôra,” Delven added. “But this time, I really want it done as soon as possible, last time nobody responded to my chat until the day before submission.” She side-eyed Talst.

“I understand, but why not places special for study like library?”

“We are noisy and librarians hate us, plus I need snacks to think and we can’t bring them to the library,” Tal gave some details. He said that as if he was just defending his choice. “My uncle just came back, and he doesn’t like us in the house; you wanna do it in your house?”

“No, please!” answered Kôra firmly in surprise. “Please no. . . I actually curious what cafe is. . . I will just asking Uncle if I can go with you all, I hope he giving permission.”

“Why’d he not?” Tal asked. “Old men suck.”

“Uncle rarely let me getting out,” Kôra replied. “He is very hard to asking to, I only get out with him to places or doing errants,” he elaborated.

“Oof,” Tal remarked, crossing his arms. “No wonder you’re like this, you’ve got my sympathy,” he added with an unsympathetic face.

“Ask him politely when he's in a good mood,” suggested Delven in a more amicable way. “If you can’t, just do it in my house. I’ll pick you up with my mom, or we’ll think of another way.”

“Why all uncles are crazy?” Tal grumbled in response.

“My uncle is not,” Delven answered. “He’s okay.”

“He wants to die, he’s crazy,” Tal replied. “Anyway, how? If you can’t we’ll think of another place.”

“Yeah,” Delven added. “I have other discount vouchers.”

“I will try to ask. . . If. . . If I can,” uttered Kôra. “I will convince Uncle to let me.”

“Good, we really hope he agrees,” said Delven with a smile, with Tal’s sour expression in the background. “We’ll be seeing you then.”

“I thank you all very much,” Kôra smiled at his new friends, dimples formed on his freckled cheeks. Delven nodded indulgently in acceptance.

Kôra hoped the plan would go expectantly satisfactory; as this would definitely be a new experience for him. He caught up with his two classmates to walk together outside, else he will be late. The boy put a warm, pleased smile; it was quite of an improvement he would say. He never thought he would get closer to two of his classmates, after all the period of solitude as an unyielding result of attempted adaptation.

He thought of blessing his dead loved ones in the evening prayer back home, and praises gratitude for the living ones.

»»-------------¤-------------««

"Yûzan," Kôra called a name. "May God rewards your good deeds with Their grace and mercy," the boy prayed in his native tongue, the Tôryaemaen language of Maiyean people.

A doused spark of fire called for the rising smoke, to carry the fragrance of falling ashes. Incense is a staple in tsaentâkarin; act of prayer for the dead. Two burnt up cones were for the boy's parents in earlier sessions, the third one was for this particular person.

Kôra sat cross-legged in a darkened room, the evening cold chilled the ceramic floor. In front of him was a traditional wooden altar box that he kept under his bed when unused. Incenses, wick-less aromatic candles, prayer scripts, and dried plant parts in four metal cups were offered on the ornate hand-painted wooden pieces. He borrowed a small electric fan from his uncle's room and set it to the lowest: so the smoke would not overwhelm him in this poorly ventilated room, but not strong enough to put down the candles.

"How are you? I'm fine and hope you too, Yûzan," Kôra greeted with a smile. He still spoke in Tôryaemaen. Talking with the deceased is common between prayers. It is believed that the omniscience of god allows the dead to hear messages in prayers. "I finally get the chance to hang out in the city with some new friends next Saturday. It's exciting, I'm officially a city rat,"  He added a bitter smile.

"Anyway, remember what you told me about mirrors?" Kôra asked to the flickering candle light.

"If we stare at a mirror for too long, the reflection will distort until it's no longer us. You said that's when the spirits talk to us," Kôra continued his story. The boy spoke as if he was talking face to face with this Yûzan. "My mother said it's just our brain playing tricks, my father said our ancestor made things up so we won't fall into vanity. I agreed with them and thought you're just a weirdo telling a weird story. Well you're weird. . . But. . ."

The heavy breaths Kôra exhaled distrubed the candles.

"The reflection I told you; it's not my hallucination. It's not leaving since I saw it in March," he elaborated with a rising tone. "It keeps saying that I'm the same with it at night, and in the morning I'll wake up with wounds. He said I'm dead!" 

He took another deep breath.

"Maybe you're right. It's the dead who can't get over their grudges and now torments the living; they always have a way to do so," Kôra said. "But why is it coming after me? How I'm supposed to solve this? I'm starting to lose control of my ability and myself. My uncle doesn't even believe me. . ."

"What am I, Yûzan? What is this? Unlike me, you would have an idea about what happened." His exasperation flowed like a melting wax. "Why are you dead? I meant I can't complain about God's decision, but I still can't let go."

"Did you really pass in peace? Didn't you miss me? Is there something behind this disaster that you knew but anybody else don't?" Kôra began voice his suspicions, listed all the possibilities available inside the rushing currents of his mind. Murky and troubled his river of thoughts was, streaming through all possibilities of the impossible. "Or. . . Maybe. . . Are you the reflection. . . ?"

Kôra pulled off an uneasy grin. "If your soul now is an unresting spirit who wants a relieve, then show yourself to me! Help me. . .  I'll do anything for you! Even if I need to torment the living for you!"

The flames flickered to an extinguishment in a blink, to the darkness the surrounding went. He knew that it might be the electric fan doing, yet could not help but find the occurrence frightening. His hand incidentally knocked one of the bowls when he tried to relit the candles. The crashing noise bothered Haren outside, who replied it with an irritated groan. Kôra's palpitated as he gathered the scattered pistils with sweaty fingers. Mixed aromas of offerings stifled him; increasingly pungent. This might be a direct reprimand from his god.

"No. . . No. Please God The Most Merciful, give us chances to repent. Keep us away from unsparingly punishing ourselves because of our foolishness and lack of judgement," Kôra implored with a trembling voice as soon as he realized what had just slipped out of his mouth. He promptly lit the candles with a gas lighter, hoping his prayers will stay appropriate. The last thing he wanted was Yûzan to be a lingering spirit who cannot find peace.

His own religion was a thing that Kôra has a thorough understanding of, founded by the passages told by his loosely religious father as a bedtime story. Kâmun —the monotheistic god of Kâumaen belief— is the overseer of every person's death and passage to the afterlife. A soul must be cleansed of any strong negative emotion like anguish, else it cannot enter heaven or hell. Those souls are stuck in the realm of spirits as they become one. At that state, Kâmun gives them a way to solve their causes of unrest by granting them an ability: to communicate with the living within a limited extent, as opposed to souls who go to heaven or hell.

The state of spirits is a second chance in its very essence as told by the holy scriptures and various folklores. However those spirits often strayed by their corrupted passions into vengeance and malevolence, just like the living. Kâmun will take into their judgement of what a spirit does to determine its eternal fate; heaven or hell. Tormenting the living people for the sake of relieve like Kôra suggested is a certain path to prevent one from entering heaven.

"Of course, I want the best for you, Yûzan. I hope God grants you peace and blessings in heaven. . ."

"Though, I still wish you could somehow answer me."