The call of his name more than once, along with the shake of his shoulder, woke him up. His eyes fought to stay open as he recognized who had called him.
"Alan?"
He turned to the window. The sky was dark, and Alan was the only one in the room. They must have attended religious sessions according to the schedule.
As for him, who wasn't sure where he stood, he used that moment to rest.
And after that one hour of religious period, they were supposed to have evening self-study for three hours.
Forcing himself, he sat up.
"Joshua asked me to wake you up." Saying that, Alan, who held a novel in his hands, went to the exit.
He recalled Joshua had left with Kai earlier, but he wasn't sure which religion it was.
Feeling a little lazy, he dropped back onto the bed.
Then suddenly, the power went off, and the room plunged into darkness.
It was already dark outside with almost no students around, and the room was eerily silent.
His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding rapidly. Instantly, he sat up, putting in all his effort to see.
He couldn't stay in the dark—no one was more aware of that than himself. Then slowly, he descended the stairs, hoping to find a torch.
But just as his feet touched the floor, his wrist was grabbed. His eyes widened tensely, and without much thought, he instantly moved his body and pinned the figure onto the bed, as something cold in his hand rested on someone's neck.
However, as fast as he freed his hand, it was quickly grabbed again with sheer strength that didn't allow him to budge.
He was sure of it—the first to die would be the one underneath him. He could feel the erratic breath of the figure as he rested his blade on his throat.
At that moment, the light returned.
With that, he was able to see who the person was. Those blue eyes stared at him with a deep frown, which he returned in confusion.
How was it him? Did Ethan try to attack him?
Then Christan snapped back to his senses, and instantly dropped the knife onto the bed. His sharp eyes changed to reflect panic as he still leaned over, staring at Ethan.
I messed up. He furrowed. How could I make such a mistake?
Christan gulped as Ethan removed his hand from his neck. Strong.
Immediately, he got up, but still sat on the bed with a pitiful expression.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. The lights went out, I just—" He stopped when he saw blood on Ethan's neck.
Ethan picked up the blade from the bed and looked at it carefully. It was a small flipper knife, like a nail cutter. It was a designed weapon. And the owner… he glanced at Christan. It was him?
"You... tried to kill me?" Ethan slowly asked, as if he was still in disbelief.
"No. I wouldn't kill anyone." Christan strongly denied, waving his hand.
Ethan chuckled, then did so again, failing to believe what he had just realized.
In short, the guy in front of him, whom he thought might be pitiful, no, the weakest, someone who didn't belong here had managed to slip in a weapon.
Christan, reading Ethan's reaction, sincerely explained, "You've got it wrong. That's not a weapon."
"So frustrating." Ethan gritted his teeth as he said each word with anger, then got out of bed.
Christan genuinely added, "I told you I was sorry. I was just startled. Then how about ... do the same to me."
Ethan glared at Christan who showed he meant his words. Was this his way of manipulating him? Because he was sure he couldn't do it? His eyes narrowed, then he decided to disappoint him.
Without hesitation, Ethan grasped Christan's neck and pushed him back, pinning him onto the bed. His neck was slender, one snap and he could break it. But Christan only stared at him.
This guy was more enraged than he expected, Christan thought. He always appeared calm, but it seemed he could be aggressive when too provoked. Not like he hadn't noticed that side of him before, but what made him angry?
Ethan passed his hand with the knife near Christan's eyes abruptly, with enough force to stir the air. It barely missed him before he threw the knife aside.
And when he did that, Christan remained still, as if nothing had happened, which confirmed Ethan's suspicion. That guy wasn't normal.
"Don't ever play games with me," Ethan warned, then removed his hand from Christan's neck.
He approached his bag, but when he turned to leave, Christan was there with a bottle in his hand.
Ethan recognized it. It was the same medicine he had brought for him.
Christan politely said with concern, "I thought you might need this..." He glanced at Ethan's neck. "It might leave a scar."
Ethan furrowed his brows. Was this guy mocking him now? But when he touched his neck, there was indeed blood.
With frustration, he took a handkerchief, soaked it with water, and started wiping it.
As he did, he remembered that moment when Christan had pinned him and pressed the blade. That guy was fast and agile. If he had strength, that knife would have caused serious damage. He hadn't hesitated at all.
Don't be so wary of me, Ethan..I'm not a bad person. Christan thought as he read Ethan's conflicted expression.
Ethan gave him a look, then took a deep breath. He was just wasting time. He grabbed his bag and headed to the exit.
There was no way he would walk alone on that road with the dark and tall trees. Immediately, Christan grabbed his backpack and followed behind him.
Ethan glanced at him. He even dared to follow him shamelessly. He took another long, deep sigh before stepping outside.
Christan rushed back, picked up his blade before he ran to catch-up with him.