"My name is Berlin.
And I'm not a teacher. I'm a prisoner."
Misty blinked at the words. "What...?"
Ken leaned in as she flipped the page, his jaw tight.
The next lines were written in fast, messy handwriting—nothing like the perfectly typed documents they were used to.
"They told me this was a job. A second chance. That I was chosen.
They dressed me in smiles, pressed a tablet into my hands, and gave me a classroom.
But I wasn't teaching. I was containing.
Each student—each level—is a test subject.
They don't call them children here. They call them simulations. Variables. Threats.
Especially the ones with memories."
Misty's hands trembled slightly.
"This is insane," she whispered.
"Keep reading," Ken said, voice low.
"The kids in Class D never last long. They're volatile, emotional. They still believe in truth. So they're monitored more than anyone.
When they ask questions, they get 'promoted.' B-2, A-1, special status.
But none of them actually move up.
I know because I watched them go through the white door.
And they never came back."
Misty stopped. Her stomach turned.
Ken didn't speak. He was thinking. Processing. Remembering.
He remembered Dawn.
He remembered the way his name disappeared from the school records a week after that last swing-set conversation.
Gone. Just like that.
Not transferred. Not moved.
Erased.
"There's one girl they talk about more than the others.
They call her The Ghost.
She scored higher than anyone in empathy, obedience, and creative recall.
But they said something's wrong with her memory.
She forgets, but also remembers.
They've tried to reset her three times. And she still comes back the same.
Happy. Too happy.
Like she's covering up a grave with flowers."
Misty's hand flew to her mouth.
Her mother's song. The black box. The sudden shifts in her mood—the crying, the laughter, the blank spaces.
"...It's me," she whispered.
Ken didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Misty was The Ghost.
And someone—everyone—had known all along.
Meanwhile, Ravyn was back in her dorm, her own journal sprawled open beside her. Her fingers were stained with ink, a symbol drawn over and over in the corner of the page.
A crooked tree.
Roots shaped like hands.
Her communicator buzzed once.
A voice spoke through static.
"Status update?"
Ravyn didn't answer right away.
Then: "She's starting to remember."
"And the boy?"
"Still asleep. But he's waking up too."
"Then it's time. Move her."
Ravyn closed the journal.
"I'll make the call."
In a hidden server room beneath Bright High Academy, files flickered to life.
A new student upload request blinked red:
Student Transfer: Misty A. Reverie → Class A, Room 0
Status: Approved.
Authorized by: Administrator Berlin (Override Code: BLACKBIRD).
Effective Immediately.
Back in the old hallway, Ken and Misty closed the journal.
Misty turned to Ken, eyes wide. "We have to get out."
Ken nodded slowly. "We're not students anymore."
A shadow moved behind them.
And then a voice, soft and amused:
"You're not going anywhere."
They turned around.
It was Berlin.
And he wasn't smiling anymore.