Harry.
Better than well, actually.
By now, his name had already started spreading around the school.
Between his sharp grades, quiet personality, crimson eyes, and unusually striking appearance, it became impossible for people not to notice him.
Some students admired him.
Others found him mysterious.
And a few were probably just curious about the rumors surrounding him.
Harry himself didn't care much.
The only thing he truly cared about was learning.
No matter how many books he finished, no matter how many pages he read late into the evening, it never felt enough. Knowledge filled something empty inside him, even if only temporarily.
By now, even the librarians recognized him on sight.
So when classes finally ended and Damien's group invited him to hang out again after school, Harry simply grabbed his bag and answered calmly:
"I have to go to the library."
Then he left before anyone could complain.
...
The hallways had mostly emptied by then.
Golden evening sunlight poured through the school windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors while the distant voices of students slowly faded away.
Harry walked quietly toward the library, flipping through notes for the next exam while lost in thought.
Then suddenly-
Thud.
He lightly bumped into someone turning the corner.
"Oh…"
Harry looked up.
Long dark-blue hair.
Brown uniform.
Blue ribbon.
Lyrielle Ashwyn.
The student council president blinked once before giving him an awkward smile and a small wave.
"Hi, Harry. Long time no see."
Harry straightened slightly.
"…Hey."
Lyrielle clasped her hands behind her back nervously.
"I've actually heard a lot about you lately," she admitted. "And honestly… most of it was really nice and… uh…"
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"…You heard other things too?"
Lyrielle immediately looked away.
"…I heard you ran out of class because of someone."
"…Yeah."
The atmosphere instantly became awkward.
Even the hallway itself suddenly felt quieter.
Lyrielle scratched her cheek awkwardly.
"Sorry… I probably shouldn't have brought that up."
"Don't worry about it," Harry replied calmly. "I heard things about you too."
Lyrielle blinked.
"…W What?"
Harry looked at her casually.
"I heard that if I ever forget homework, I should just hand it to you because you're soft."
Lyrielle's eyes widened immediately.
Harry continued without mercy.
"And energetic. And awkward. And shy." He tilted his head slightly. "Apparently your face turns red really easily too."
By the end of the sentence, Lyrielle's face had already turned completely pink.
"W WHAT?!"
She pointed at him accusingly.
"You're only saying that because I mentioned the classroom thing!"
Harry shook his head.
"No. My classmates told me."
Lyrielle looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
Still, Harry continued speaking calmly.
"Honestly though… I thought someone who's both class president and student council president would have more of a leader personality."
Lyrielle puffed her cheeks slightly.
"W What's that supposed to mean?!"
Harry shrugged.
"You don't really feel strict. Or intimidating."
"Ughhh…" Lyrielle groaned dramatically before crossing her arms. "I never even wanted those positions anyway."
Harry paused slightly.
"…Then why do them?"
The playful energy in Lyrielle's face faded a little.
"…Because of my father."
Her eyes drifted toward the nearby window while the evening sunlight reflected softly in them.
"There's a lot of things I've done because people wanted me to," she admitted quietly. "Sometimes it feels like everyone already decided what I'm supposed to become before I even got the chance to choose."
Harry listened silently.
No interruptions.
No sarcastic comments.
Lyrielle sighed softly.
"Sometimes I just wanna be free from all of it." She laughed weakly afterward. "It kinda feels like being strangled by everyone's expectations."
Harry stayed quiet.
Just watching her.
And while listening, he suddenly realized something.
She was actually really pretty.
Not in the overwhelming way Sophia felt.
Not in the energetic way Seraphina stood out.
Lyrielle's beauty felt softer.
Gentler.
Like someone trying very hard to smile correctly all the time.
Eventually, Lyrielle looked back at him again.
Then she blinked in surprise.
"…You really changed, you know that?"
Harry frowned slightly.
"How?"
"Well…" She hesitated. "When we first met, you didn't listen to anything I said. You just walked around doing whatever you wanted." A small laugh escaped her. "Honestly, I thought you'd become a huge pain to deal with."
Harry stared at her quietly.
"But now you actually listen," she continued. "And you don't just do things without caring how it affects people."
Harry looked away slightly.
"…Maybe."
Lyrielle smiled faintly.
"Yeah. Maybe."
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Lyrielle suddenly remembered something.
"Ah. I have student council work."
She quickly stepped backward.
"I should go."
Harry nodded once.
"See you."
"See you, Harry."
And with that, she walked away down the hallway, her long blue hair swaying softly beneath the orange evening light.
Harry remained standing there alone afterward.
Thinking.
Had he really changed?
Back then, he moved entirely based on emotion.
And honestly…
He still did.
His views on people hadn't really changed either.
So why did everyone keep saying he was different now?
For the first time in a while, Harry genuinely didn't know the answer.
By the time Harry finally arrived at the library, the sky outside had already darkened into deep shades of blue.
The building was nearly empty now.
Only the soft sound of turning pages and distant clock ticks filled the quiet air while warm yellow lights illuminated the endless rows of bookshelves. Harry sat near the back as usual, surrounded by open notebooks and stacked books, completely absorbed in studying.
Hours passed without him noticing.
Words blurred together.
Pages became heavier.
And eventually, exhaustion won.
Harry slowly lowered his head onto the desk.
And fell asleep.
...
This dream was different.
Completely different.
There was no darkness this time.
No endless black void swallowing everything around him.
Instead, there was only light.
Pure white nothingness stretching endlessly in every direction, so bright it almost hurt to look at.
And in the middle of it all sat Harry himself on a park bench.
The exact same bench from before.
Harry looked around slowly, confused by the strange calmness surrounding him.
Then he noticed someone far away.
A figure walking toward him.
Step by step.
Every time he blinked, the distance between them shortened unnaturally fast.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until finally, the figure stopped right in front of him.
White hair.
Silver eyes.
Sophia Reynolds.
She smiled softly while standing beside the seated Harry, gently playing with strands of his crimson hair between her fingers.
Harry blinked up at her.
"…What are you doing?"
Sophia hummed lightly.
"You used to have an ugly hairstyle." Her lips curved teasingly. "I like your current one more."
Harry stared at her suspiciously.
"…Is this a dream?"
He looked around at the endless white space again.
"If it is, then why can't I wake up?"
Sophia smiled proudly before spinning once beneath the glowing light.
"This," she declared dramatically, "is the dream realm."
Harry blinked slowly.
"…Cool."
Sophia puffed her cheeks slightly.
"I created it, by the way."
"That explains absolutely nothing."
Sophia ignored the comment and walked around the bench casually.
"It's a place between dreams and memories."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Between dreams and reality?"
"Actually," she corrected while raising one finger, "between dreams and memories."
Harry frowned slightly.
"So… did this happen before?"
Sophia shook her head immediately.
"Nope. First time coming here."
Then suddenly, she leaned directly into his face with a bright smile.
"So?" she asked excitedly. "Do you remember anything?"
Harry stared at her for a second.
"…Nuh."
Sophia froze.
Then visibly frowned.
"That's annoying."
Harry shrugged lightly.
"You said this place was supposed to help me remember."
"It is supposed to," she complained. "That's literally the entire point."
Harry leaned back against the bench.
"Then why don't you just guide me directly to my memories?"
Sophia's expression softened slightly.
"…I can't."
Harry frowned.
"Why?"
"Because you won't let me."
Harry stared at her in complete confusion.
"What are you talking about? I want my memories back more than anything."
Sophia tilted her head.
"More than anything?"
Harry's voice sharpened slightly.
"Yes. More than anything." He looked away for a second before continuing quieter. "Try living without knowing who you are."
His fingers tightened slightly against the bench.
"What am I?"
"What was I?"
"What should I become?"
"What did I want before all this?"
His crimson eyes returned toward her again.
"It's my life. I have the right to know myself."
Sophia stayed silent for a moment.
Then quietly asked:
"…What if your past changes you?"
She gently placed a finger against her lips while watching him carefully.
Harry answered immediately.
"Then let it."
His voice stayed calm.
"People change anyway."
He looked up toward the endless white sky.
"If my past reshapes me, then that just becomes another part of who I am."
Sophia's silver eyes narrowed slightly.
"…You're not scared of changing?"
Harry sighed tiredly.
"Just get to the point already." He crossed his arms. "How do I remember my past?"
The moment he finished speaking, Sophia disappeared.
Harry blinked.
"…Huh?"
Then suddenly-
She reappeared directly in front of him.
This time wearing an elaborate black gothic dress.
A dramatic layered skirt spread around her elegantly while dark floral patterns shimmered faintly beneath the glowing white light of the dream realm. The fitted corset hugged her figure perfectly while black lace decorated her sleeves and neck alongside silver jewelry that reflected softly like moonlight.
Harry completely froze.
His face immediately turned red.
Sophia smiled proudly after noticing his reaction.
"I'll give you a hint."
Harry looked away awkwardly.
"I-If you know everything already, why won't you just tell me directly?"
Sophia frowned again.
"I told you already." Her voice softened slightly. "You won't let me."
Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"…Whatever. Just tell me the hint."
Sophia stepped closer slowly.
Harry swallowed nervously.
Then she whispered:
"You used to call me Elara Nightwyn."
Harry blinked once.
"…That doesn't sound like a nickname."
Sophia smiled faintly.
"It's not."
Her silver eyes stared directly into his.
"That's my real name."
Silence.
Then suddenly-
Harry's eyes widened violently.
Elara Nightwyn.
The quiet pixie-haired girl from his friend group.
The girl who almost never spoke.
The girl who always looked annoyed at the world.
The girl sitting beside them every single day.
Cold sweat immediately ran down Harry's neck.
Sophia smiled sadly.
"That's my name."
Her voice became softer.
"Elara Nightwyn."
Then, almost like greeting someone after a very long separation:
"…Nice meeting you again, Harry."
Harry immediately stood up from the bench.
"W-Wait!" His voice shook. "How are you two the same person?!"
But the moment he shouted-
Everything vanished.
The white world shattered apart instantly.
And Harry's eyes snapped open inside the dark library.
Silence.
The lights above him buzzed faintly.
Everyone was already gone.
Books remained scattered across the table while moonlight spilled softly through the library windows.
Harry sat there breathing heavily in complete shock.
Sophia Reynolds.
Elara Nightwyn.
The white-haired girl and the silent pixie-haired girl were the same person.