Illegal element detected
Classes dragged like a funeral march.
Elemental Theory. Combat Tactics. Light Channeling. Boring, soul-killing lectures about how to “shine with purity” and “resist corruption,” all while Su-Bong’s mind spun like a turntable. The buzz was wearing off, and beneath it, something itchier stirred. Restless. Hot.
By the final bell, Su-Bong and Nam-Gyu barely waited before dipping out of the main hall and into the fancy-ass boys’ bathroom on the second floor—the one with marble sinks, gold fixtures, and toilets that probably cost more than Su-Bong’s entire apartment complex.
Nam-Gyu lit a cigar like it was a cigarette, leaning back against the window sill, his long black hair tucked behind one ear. The smoke curled around his sharp cheekbones like it was in love with him.
Su-Bong pulled out his vape, took a deep inhale, and exhaled with a sigh.
Then the music started.
Soft. Subtle. The school played orchestral pieces through the intercoms during downtime, supposedly to “enhance elemental discipline.” But this song—this one felt different.
The strings whispered to him. The cello dragged across his chest like longing. And the piano—god, the piano—
Su-Bong’s fingers twitched.
The vape dropped.
His fingers moved on their own, dancing in mid-air. Invisible strings. Notes forming in his veins.
No. Not now.
A familiar warmth surged through his arms. A low hum in his bones. Not Light. Not purity.
Music.
“Shit,” he muttered, stumbling into the nearest stall and slamming it shut.
“Dude?” Nam-Gyu knocked once. “You good?”
“Yeah!” Su-Bong lied. “Just... stomach stuff.”
“Gross.”
He didn’t have time to argue.
Inside the stall, the Music was pulsing through him, desperate to get out. His vision swam with notes, symbols, lyrics he hadn’t written. A beat dropped in his chest like a second heart. He opened his mouth to scream—but melody came out instead.
And then—
The lights above flickered.
The floor beneath his feet breathed.
He swore the tiles rearranged themselves into a rhythm. Like the school itself was dancing with him. Responding. Embracing him.
For a second, it felt like he belonged.
Then—ALARMS.
A shrieking wail, mechanical and alive, echoed through every corridor.
A voice—metallic, emotionless—poured through the intercom:
“An illegal Element has been activated. All students return to their dorms immediately. This is not a drill.”
Su-Bong froze.
Nam-Gyu cursed outside the stall.
Footsteps slammed down the hallway as guards—real guards, not students—rushed toward the commotion.
Su-Bong clenched his fists, forcing the Music down, deep down, until it was just a dull thump in his heart again.
The moment passed.
Barely.
Back in his dorm, locked behind glowing walls of Light magic, Su-Bong sat on his bed, hands still trembling.
The school liked it. The school reacted to it.
So why did it also try to kill him for it?
Outside his window, the six elemental dorms glowed in the dark.
And somewhere beyond the barrier, Su-Bong knew, someone on the Student Council had felt him.
And they wouldn’t stop until they found him.