Hell University-Chapter 27 - 26: Fairy tale

Zein’s Point of View

My impatience seemed to have reached my eyes. They were nearly closing from drowsiness, and I was doing my best to keep myself entertained.

A quiz. My classmates were busily writing on their papers, some with furrowed brows, and others were craning their necks to cheat. Typical students.

Lyka stood up and walked to the front while holding a piece of paper that I assumed contained her answers. Teacher Aya looked up, and a smile escaped her lips when she saw Lyka.

I narrowed my eyes. There was something about that smile, perhaps sadness, perhaps longing. Supremo suddenly crossed my mind. Was this how he felt whenever he tried to understand the reason behind my own smile?

Was he merely curious? Maybe yes. What else was I expecting? Maybe he simply could not control his curiosity. He was just intensely curious about the reasons behind my mysterious, radiant smile.

"You got a perfect score. Your mother must be proud of you," Teacher Aya said with a smile.

"T–Thank you," Lyka replied, her voice trembling, and suddenly, they embraced each other.

They looked like a mother and her daughter. Yes, that’s right.

Before returning to her seat, Lyka wiped her eyes. I glanced at my classmates, who were still busy answering their papers. Perhaps I was the only one who noticed, either everyone was too preoccupied, or they simply did not care.

We all froze when the speakers around us suddenly blared, producing a deafening noise that lasted only a moment.

"Good morning, students,"

With just one sentence, I found myself gasping for air. I had a bad feeling about this. Her voice was far too cheerful, and even she sounded genuinely happy. Alongside her was the Vice President under the administrators of Hell University, Francisco Augustine.

What is it this time?

It seemed like I was not the only one who felt uneasy. All of my classmates were visibly nervous; some had not even realized they had already dropped their pens. Teacher Aya, meanwhile, was looking at one of our classmates with sadness, who was clearly just as anxious as we are.

"Do you find Bloody Week boring?" she asked, laughing.

Boring? Boring your face. Have you still not had enough, after so many students have already died because of your actions? Was it not enough? What are you planning now to satisfy your boredom, Black Lady?

"Let’s play a game."

A game? One where our lives are at stake? I opened my bag, and my attention was immediately drawn to a long, rectangular box inside. A smile formed on my lips. Well, I am ready to play. I closed my bag once more.

"We placed something inside your lockers, a name. The name of the person you must kill before sunset tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Bloody Week would finally end. Yet instead of relief, a heavier unease settled in my chest. This was not over. It never was. They would not let us leave without blood staining the end.

"Let’s add a twist," she continued. "If you find no name inside your locker, you are doomed. You will not know who is coming for you, which means you must strike first. And if you fail to complete the game," her voice softened almost sweetly, "we will finish it for you."

The speakers around us went silent, yet the fear they left behind was permanent. They had truly gone mad. They staged another blood-soaked scheme because they were not satisfied, they wanted it even bloodier.

The lockers...

I stood up, and it was as if I had become a signal for everyone else. One by one, they rose as well, each clutching their bags, hurrying out of the classroom.

Only Lyka, Teacher Aya, and I were left behind. I eventually left as well, thinking they might have something to discuss and that I would only be in the way. I knew there was something between them, perhaps they were related.

I nearly stumbled as students rushed past me who were all desperate to reach their lockers. I stopped for a moment to avoid getting caught in the crowd, knowing that the area where all the lockers were located would already be packed.

"Zein!"

I turned toward the girl who was grimacing. Fritzy.

"Oh my God. Don’t kill me, okay? We’re friends, right?" she said dramatically.

Friends? My friends suddenly crossed my mind. What if one of them was included? I firmly shook my head.

"I’m sorry. We are not friends."

I walked ahead of her, leaving her standing there in shock. What if I did not find a name in my locker? Then who would be the one to kill me?

As I drew closer, the silence around me became striking. Everyone stared at the slips of paper in their hands, while others looked around anxiously, empty-handed.

I felt the fear surge back as I stood in front of my locker. I have to open this locker. I have to face it. I was barely breathing as I opened it with trembling hands.

There was no slip of paper inside, nothing but my three books. I checked each one, page by page, hoping it had been tucked somewhere between them, but there was nothing.

There was only one meaning to this.

I was doomed.

I did not know who held my name, only that someone, somewhere, was meant to take my life.

I looked around. They were impossible to read. Everyone carried a secret, one secret upon which their life depended. Who? Who was holding my name?

"W–Who did you get, bro?" I heard one of them ask his friend. One of the boys was holding a slip of paper, while the one who asked had nothing in his hands.

We were in the same situation.

"What does it have to do with you?" The boy was startled by his friend’s sudden hostility. "I–It’s none of your business!" His voice cracked as he hurried away.

The other boy was left standing there, stunned, unable to believe his friend’s reaction. A single question seemed to echo in both his mind and mine:

Why? Is it me?

I left that place because I felt uneasy. I would never be comfortable, not when I do not know who my enemy is.

Which is worse: finding a piece of paper and knowing exactly who you must target, or having no idea at all who is going to kill you? It is not easy even when you know who must be taken down. I understand the way the minds of those behind this work.

I know they made sure that whoever was assigned to kill would struggle to do what must be done. Perhaps because of their cruelty, the person they have to eliminate is someone close to them. That is not impossible.

I jumped in shock when someone suddenly grabbed my arm.

"M-Matt!" I finally breathed properly. "You scared me!" I clutched my chest from the shock.

He suddenly slung an arm around my shoulders. "They’ve gone crazy," he whispered into my ear, making me flinch slightly as a ticklish sensation ran through me.

My brows immediately furrowed. His scent filled my nose, it was dizzying. Feeling nauseated by the smell, I quickly pushed his arm off my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Only then did I notice the heaviness in his eyes, as if he were about to fall asleep.

"You are drunk," I said coldly.

Here’s the English translation, keeping the intensity and emotion:

"Maybe I am, but what’s the difference?" he asked with a grin. He stepped closer to me, forcing me to step back slightly. "Whether I’m drunk or not, I can still clearly see your beautiful, angelic face, Zein." He suddenly hiccupped.

Drunk indeed.

I grabbed him and dragged him to our dorm. I shoved him down onto the sofa and put my hands on my hips.

"Dammit, Matt! We’re in danger, for Pete’s sake, and yet you still managed to get drunk!" I stomped my foot in frustration. "You are unbelievable," I burst out.

"You have to believe in me." The drowsiness in his eyes suddenly faded, replaced by sadness. "Please," he added, as if begging me to trust him.

Even without him saying it, I had trusted him for a long time—trusted them. They were the ones I believed in, believe in, and will continue to believe in.

My trust is reserved for my friends, not for just anyone.

I locked eyes with him, but I was the first to look away. Maybe he’s drunk, but he’s still in control of himself. He knows how to carry himself; he can handle everything about him.

So why did he get drunk?

"W-Whose name did you see?" I asked bluntly.

He froze for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "Does it matter?" he asked.

"Of course it does! Damn it, Matt! Did you see something or not?! Tell me!"

"So what if I did or didn’t?" he shot back. "They can’t order me around or force me to do what they want. They can’t manipulate me. They’re just bullshit."

I didn’t know whether to admire Matt’s courage or be afraid. Afraid that if he failed to do what was required, he might be the one to suffer. But when Matt said something, he meant it. Whatever came out of his mouth, you could be sure he would do it.

Shit, Matt! You’re giving me a headache! Where are the others anyway?

"They are not my queen. There’s only one I want to be my queen." He looked at me again, leaving me no choice but to look away. "Can you be?" he asked.

I looked at him. He still had that serious expression. Why are you saying this? You’re drunk, Matt. Maybe you know how to carry yourself, but you can’t control the words you’re saying.

"You’re just drunk, Matt. Go to sleep."

I grabbed a pillow and a blanket from their room before returning to the living room. He was still in the same position, leaning against the sofa, head tilted back, eyes closed.

What’s going on with you, Matt? You’re worrying me.

I arranged the pillow on the sofa and laid him down. Because of his drunken state, he couldn’t resist as I forced him to lie down. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they were about to close at any second.

"Go to sleep."

"Can you tell me a story?" he asked.

I don’t know why, but what he said made me want to laugh. Really, Matt? Does your mind go back to childhood whenever you’re drunk? But... fine.

"A fairy tale?" I went along with what he said and sat in front of him. He turned to face me.

That only made me notice how handsome his face was. His eyes, once lively, were now heavy with sleep. His red lips were tightly closed.

"Yes, please."

I adjusted my sitting position and faced him. Suddenly, I thought of my favorite fairy tale, the one Ate Allison used to tell me all the time. A story I once dreamed of having.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named---"

"Can you name that beautiful girl as Zein?"

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named-"

"Can you name that beautiful girl Zein?"

I froze at what he said. A smile slowly formed on his lips, so I hit his arm, making him wince. It was just a light hit, why was he being so dramatic?

"Please," he said, giving me puppy eyes, and I suddenly felt like grabbing a camera and taking a picture of him.

OMG! He’s so cute, and I hate the fact that I can’t resist his cuteness!

"FINE! Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Z-Zein?" I blushed, but his expression remained serious.

"Whatever! So, she lived with her wicked stepmother and two stepsisters." I paused for a moment to see if he was serious about wanting me to finish the story.

"Are they going to maltreat Zein?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Y-Yes."

"What?! Tell me their names!"

I wasn’t sure if he was serious, but judging by his intense look and furrowed brow, he definitely was.

Well, what does it matter to him what Cinderella’s stepmother’s name is? UGH! Why do I have this bad feeling that my name’s already getting involved in the story of Cinderella?

"Her stepmom’s name is Lady Tremaine."

"Where can I find her?"

I struck his arm to make him stop asking such pointless questions. "Dammit, Matt. It was merely a work of fiction," I said, nearly shouting in front of him.

I had no idea that telling a fairy tale could be this difficult. Was it because he was drunk, or was it simply because it was Matt?

"Fiction? But Zein is rea- never mind. Please, continue."

I could only let out a deep sigh. Why are you making this so difficult for me, Matt? Push me just a little further, and I might actually punch you just to make you fall asleep.

"Where was I again?" I asked, having forgotten where I had left off.

"Her wicked mother and... those terrible stepsisters." I glared at him.

Oh, goodness!

"Until one day, they were invited to a grand ball at the King’s palace. But Cinde-"

"Zein."

"Whatever! Her stepmother would not allow her to go. She was left at home, alone."

"They’re really horrible, huh?"

I furrowed my brow. "You’re only hearing this story now?" I asked in disbelief. Everyone knows Cinderella’s story, even boys.

"Yeah, don’t ask anymore. Just continue, please."

Grumpy! He’s the one who keeps asking questions, and the moment I ask once, he gets annoyed? Oh, Matt... you should be grateful you’re drunk, otherwise... hmph!

"Zein felt very sad. Suddenly, a fairy godmother appeared and said she would take Zein to the ball."

"Thanks to her," he commented, wearing a wide smile.

"Indeed. But, unfortunately, Zein did not have a gown to wear to the ball. The fairy godmother waved her magic wand and transformed Zein’s old clothes into a beautiful new gown!" I recounted with enthusiasm.

"You seem more excited than I am," Matt remarked, frowning slightly.

"Then, the fairy godmother touched my- I mean Zein’s feet and transformed them into beautiful glass slippers."

Is it just me, or have I really taken on the role of Cinderella? Err—well, it doesn’t matter.

"The fairy godmother transformed the six mice playing near a pumpkin into four shiny black horses and two coachmen, and the pumpkin into a golden coach."

I suddenly imagined myself riding in that coach!

"But the fairy godmother warned Zein that the magic would only last until midnight, and she must return home by then. When she entered the palace, everyone was struck by her beauty. No one, not even her stepmother or stepsisters—recognized her."

I felt a surge of excitement, as I had reached my favorite part.

"The prince approached her and asked her to dance-"

"Name that prince as... uhmm..." He looked upward, as if deep in thought. "Matthew. Prince Matthew." Then he grinned.

Fine.

"Very well. Prince Matthew danced with Zein all night." I swallowed nervously. "Zein was so happy dancing with Prince Matthew that she nearly forgot what the fairy godmother had warned her. At the last moment, Z-"

"Cut it. I am no longer interested. What happened in the end?"

I shrugged. "They lived happily ever after." I spoke the words absentmindedly, smiling faintly.

Silence settled between us after I said that. Fairy tales have happy endings, but do fairy tales truly exist?

"They lived happily ever after?" Matt asked. "They fell in love with each other? In such a short time?" His question was full of disbelief, and I was unsure of what he truly meant.

"Yes," I answered briefly.

"Maybe, yes." He looked into my eyes. "No matter how long you’ve known someone, sometimes there’s a person who, even if you’ve only known them for a short while, your heart falls for them more. Isn’t that right, Zein?" he asked.

I was at a loss for words. He was right, time is just a number. But why did I feel there was something more he meant?

"G-Go to sleep now." I stood up.

"Will you promise me, Zein?"

"Promise what?"

"When you find someone who holds a special place in your heart—someone you love—do not ever suppress your feelings just because you know someone will get hurt."

Damn it. "Why are you saying this?" I asked.

"I just do not want to see you miserable."

"Go to sleep now, Matt."

"Promise me first."

"I will not promise anything. Stop this."

I do not understand what he truly meant, nor why it was so difficult for me to make the promise he was asking for.

Sacrifice is a constant part of life. However, one must ensure that the sacrifice is worth making.

I wish I could live as if I were in a fairy tale, so that I, too, could have a happy ending. I wish I could have a life like Cinderella’s.