Chapter Six: A Heartfelt moment.

Player: Felicia

Location: World 1, Still boring science class. Sigh.

I wondered what Victor’s gift would be. He got it before we decided to date—just a few minutes ago, really. That probably means he’s been waiting for me, even if he didn’t say it out loud. The thought made my heart skip, just a little. Had he planned this? Had he hoped for this moment the way I secretly had?

It wasn’t like him to do something on impulse. Victor was thoughtful, calculated. So if he had a gift ready before we even crossed that invisible line between friends and something more, then he must’ve been thinking about this for a while. About me.

I tried to picture him picking something out, wondering if it would make me smile, if I’d understand the meaning behind it. Maybe it wasn’t just a gift. Maybe it was a message—his way of saying he’s been waiting, hoping, holding his breath like I have.

The teacher walked in without a word and turned to the board. With a quiet kind of focus, he picked up a marker and wrote something across the top in big, slanted letters: “This is my heartbeat song.”

I stared at it, trying to make sense of the phrase. It hung there like it meant something deeper, something we were supposed to feel, not just read. A few students glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, but no one said anything. I guess the class just goes on and on.

The hum of the overhead lights filled the silence while we waited for her to explain. I tapped my pen against my notebook, wondering if it was some kind of metaphor—was he trying to say this class meant something to him? Or was it just a lyric, something random he liked? Either way, it felt different today. A little heavier, a little more... personal.

Maybe we weren’t just here to learn grammar or write essays today. Maybe we were supposed to listen—toheim, to ourselves, to something we hadn’t noticed before. Maybe this heartbeat song was about finding the rhythm in all of it. Like finding love.

And yes, I do mean with Victor.

“Does anyone know why I made you heat the vile” Mr. Science Teacher said.

“So the students would be bored?” Deepika raised her hand.

“No, better” Mr. Science Teacher said.

I stared at the vial Victor had heated. It was shining, catching the light in a strange, almost hypnotic way. The glow wasn’t bright, but it pulsed gently, like it was alive. Like it was waiting.

Victor didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me with a look I couldn’t quite read. Not exactly proud, not exactly nervous—just… expectant. Like this moment mattered to him.

The glass was smooth, warm against my palm. I turned it slightly, and the liquid inside shifted, catching hints of gold and deep violet. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen before. It looked important.

“What is this?” I finally asked, though the words barely left my mouth.

The teacher walked up to a student’s desk near the back of the room. I hadn’t noticed her before. She didn’t have a partner—kind of weird, since I was pretty sure everyone else had already paired up. Then again, maybe I’d been too busy staring at Victor to really pay attention. That wouldn’t be the first time.

She sat quietly, not saying a word, her eyes fixed on something outside the window like she wasn’t even part of the class. She wore this huge black coat that looked two sizes too big, the hem brushing the tops of her boots. It swallowed her frame and gave her this shadowy kind of presence, like she was hiding something—or everything.

What really stood out, though, was her hair. Bright pink, like bubblegum or cotton candy, only not soft. It was sharp, jagged, like she’d cut it herself in the mirror during a thunderstorm. It clashed with her coat in the most unapologetic way. She didn’t look like she cared what anyone thought. She didn’t even seem aware that people could think things about her.

He picked up her vial, which was still a cool, shimmering blue. The color swirled slowly inside the glass, like it had a life of its own—calm, but not asleep. He held it up to the light, turning it slightly between his fingers. It caught the glow from the nearby lamp, casting faint reflections on his face.

“This vial,” he said, his voice low but steady, “if heated by fire, will turn red.”

Yes, and that is A pretty color, blood is also that color and that is very pretty especially on tutus.

Mr. Science Teacher walked over to Glinda’s desk, clipboard in hand and his usual overenthusiastic smile glued to his face. Glinda, of course, was already partnered up—with some pretty boy who looked like he’d just wandered in from a beach photoshoot. His sun-kissed hair fell perfectly into place without him even trying, and his skin had that golden glow that made people stop and stare. I recognized him, unfortunately. I just didn’t like him very much.

I swear he spent more time staring in the mirror than doing anything remotely productive. The kind of guy who checked his reflection in every shiny surface like it might’ve changed in the last five minutes. He always had that smug little half-smile too, like he knew he looked good and expected the world to thank him for it.

Most people would probably agree he was attractive—he had that laid-back, effortlessly cool vibe that made people gravitate toward him. But not me. He just wasn’t my type. He was a classic surfer boy, all saltwater charm and sunbleached confidence. I preferred something a little more polished. A little more intentional. Someone who dressed with purpose, who chose their cologne like a weapon, who spoke with precision instead of “dude” and “bro.”

The teacher picked up Glinda’s vial, the one that had been heated by fire. It had turned a deep, glowing red, the color rich and intense, like molten glass or fresh blood. The flame had done its job—whatever reaction was meant to happen had happened. Now the liquid inside shimmered with a life of its own, slow and steady.

He turned the vial gently between his fingers, examining it with a kind of quiet satisfaction. Then he smiled. It wasn’t the forced, polite kind of smile teachers usually give when students follow instructions—it was something else. Subtle. Curious. Maybe even proud.

Glinda watched him closely, her posture perfectly poised, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. She didn’t say anything, but the flicker in her eyes said enough. She wanted him to be impressed.

“This is a very strong reaction,” he said, still looking at the vial. “Stable. Clean. Impressive.”

He said it to the class, but he was clearly talking to her. Glinda’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the small, satisfied shift in her shoulders. Like she already knew the outcome before he picked it up

“If you drink it,” Mr. Science Teacher said with a grin, clearly enjoying the dramatic moment, “it will heal you.”

He paused, looking around the room like he’d just revealed the secret to eternal life or at least the best hangover cure ever. The class was silent—too silent. Everyone was probably waiting for him to add, “Just kidding! It’s actually grape juice!” But he didn’t. He just set Glinda’s vial down on his desk with a little too much flourish.

The vial was still glowing red, like a weird lava lamp, and I half expected it to start bubbling like it was in a cartoon. Mr. Science Teacher stood there, watching us, clearly expecting applause or at least a round of “oohs” and “aahs.”

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“Heal me from what?” I asked

Mr. Science Teacher sighed, looking like he was trying to manage the class's collective confusion without just throwing up his hands in frustration. “That’s what makes this special,” he said, tapping the vial lightly with his finger as if the glass contained the secrets of the universe. “It seems to heal anything.”

The class went quiet, everyone leaning forward, trying to process what he had just said. Glinda, who had been absentmindedly twirling her hair, now looked up with an eyebrow raised, like she was trying to decide whether to believe him or call him out on some ridiculous high school prank.

“Wait.” A voice from the back of the room piped up, sounding half-amused, half-skeptical. “You have a healing potion?”

The words hung in the air, like the very idea was too absurd to be taken seriously. A healing potion?

I glanced around the room. Some people were exchanging confused looks, others were staring at the vial with a new sense of trepidation, wondering if it could really be as magical as it sounded. I mean, the way Mr. Science Teacher had talked about it—like it was just another regular Tuesday—that was kind of odd. This wasn’t a science class anymore. It was something... else.

Then, without warning, Victor leaned closer to me, his voice barely a whisper in my ear. "How long have you known him?"

His breath was warm against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The sudden proximity caught me off guard, and I blinked, trying to refocus.

“Mr. Science Teacher? Ummm, he’s… even always been my science teacher for high school…” I said, trying to wrap my head around the situation. My voice came out uncertain, like I was trying to convince myself that this was normal. That he was normal.

“It can heal anything,” Mr. Science Teacher said, holding up the red-glowing vial like it was the Holy Grail, “except… the heart.”

The pause was dramatic. A few students blinked. Someone in the corner might have gasped. I couldn’t tell if he was being literal or poetic. Honestly, with him, it could go either way.

Victor leaned closer again, whispering so close to my ear I could practically feel his words. “Did he seem odd to you? Ever?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “He was obsessed with learning and good values.”

Victor gave me a look like that’s not what I meant.

“Great,” he muttered, “but did he ever seem unworldly?”

Before I could answer, Mr. Science Teacher clapped his hands together. “Does anybody have a terrible illness they’d like to be cured?” he asked, smiling like he was about to hand out candy instead of possibly rewriting medical history.

“No,” I whispered back to Victor. “He never seemed otherworldly. Sometimes monsters bring equipment with them—maybe a monster dropped a health potion and he just happened to pick it up.”

Victor nodded slowly, processing that. It wasn’t the most logical explanation, but it made just enough weird sense to be true in this town.

“Anybody at all?” Mr. Science Teacher repeated.

No one answered. Actually, it was weird—there was usually always some kind of noise in this class. A cough, a paper being crumpled, someone sneaking a snack. But now? Total silence. Everyone was staring at him, like they were under some kind of spell. Intrigued. Confused. Slightly concerned.

“Hmmm,” Mr. Science Teacher said thoughtfully, “I’ll just have to cause it. Who would like to be my test subject? Only somebody who has an injury, even if it’s just a papercut.”

Bob, who sat in the second row and had the confidence of someone who had never once questioned his own invincibility, raised his hand.

Deepika, clearly alarmed, whispered—very loudly—“Wait, Bob, you’re not supposed to cause attention. I’m doing some illegal things, remember?”

Nobody even reacted to that. Mr. Science Teacher was already waving Bob forward.

“Bob, stand here,” he said with an eerie calm, like this kind of thing happened every Tuesday.

Bob stepped up, shoulders back like he was about to win an award instead of becoming a human science experiment. He strolled toward the front of the room with the casual confidence of someone who didn’t ask many questions—especially not the kind that might’ve kept him out of danger.

He gave a little wave to the class, grinning like this was a school play and he’d just been cast as the lead. Mr. Science Teacher gestured for him to stand in a marked spot near the desk, where the strange red vial still shimmered faintly under the overhead lights.

And then, out of nowhere, chaos exploded.

A student from the back of the room suddenly leapt from their chair and ran forward—fast. Before anyone could react, they swung a fist and punched Bob square in the face, hard enough to echo through the room. The crack of contact was loud and brutal. Bob’s head snapped to the side, and he stumbled backward.

But the attacker wasn’t finished.

They slammed into him again, tackling him with so much force that Bob was thrown off his feet and crashed into a desk. The desk screeched across the floor, papers and pencils flying everywhere. A gasp rippled through the class.

Bob groaned, dazed and half-sitting against the now-shifted desk, clutching his jaw. “Dude! What the heck?”

The room erupted into shocked murmurs. Chairs scraped. Someone dropped their pen. Deepika ducked behind her backpack like she was about to witness the apocalypse. Or you know, she didn’t want to be caught doing whatever illegal activity.

“Bob!” I called, my voice cutting through the chaos like a thread of panic I couldn’t hide.

He didn’t respond—just lay there slumped against the desk, one hand on his face, the other gripping the edge like he was trying to stay grounded in reality.

“Hey, Felicia,” Victor said beside me, his voice low, tense. “I think maybe we should bail—”

But I didn’t wait for him to finish. My legs were already moving before my brain had time to think it through. I ran toward Bob, my heartbeat pounding in my ears so loud it drowned out everything else. The air felt thick, like I was pushing through water. Time slowed, just enough for everything to feel unreal—like I was moving through a dream I couldn’t wake up from.

And then, just for a split second, I saw it.

The monster.

The same one that had sad I was going to die soon. The purple one I saw before science class. It was standing just behind Bob, barely more than a silhouette—tall, jagged, eyes like slits of shadow. It wasn’t moving. It was just watching. Like it was waiting.

I froze mid-step, breath caught in my throat. But before I could even blink, it vanished. Gone. No trace. No sound. Like it had never been there at all.

My knees hit the floor beside Bob. He groaned quietly, blinking up at me with a dazed look.

“Bob…” I whispered, scanning his face. He had a black eye already swelling up, purple and red blooming across his cheek like a bruise made of war paint.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, even though he definitely wasn’t. “Did anyone get the name of the train that hit me?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. Victor was suddenly at my side, crouching down and looking over his shoulder nervously like he half-expected something else to jump out of the shadows.

“That didn’t feel normal,” he muttered. “None of this feels normal.”

I nodded slowly, eyes flicking toward the space where the monster had been, now just empty air.

“It’s not,” I said. “Something’s wrong. Really wrong.”

I looked around for the student that hit him, but I didn’t see them.

It didn’t make sense. One second they were there—charging out of nowhere like a bolt of chaos—and now? Gone. Vanished. Like they’d slipped out of reality the same way they’d slipped into it. I scanned every face in the room, every desk, every corner, but no one looked guilty. No one looked out of breath. No one looked like they’d just thrown a punch that practically broke someone’s jaw.

Everyone was just… sitting there.

Staring.

Too quiet.

A few students were whispering now, just barely, like they didn’t want to be heard. Others kept their eyes fixed on Mr. Science Teacher, who hadn’t moved an inch. His expression hadn’t changed either. He looked completely unfazed, as if someone being tackled in the middle of his lesson was just part of the usual Wednesday routine.

“Where did they go?” I muttered under my breath.

Victor was standing behind me, arms crossed, his jaw tight. “You saw them too, right?” he asked. “The one who hit Bob?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I saw them. I just… don’t anymore.”

Victor frowned, eyes sweeping the room. “It’s like they disappeared.”

“Or,” I said quietly, “like they were never really here.”

The words felt strange the moment they left my mouth, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Something was off—more than off. Something was wrong with this whole situation. The air still felt too heavy, like the aftermath of a thunderstorm, charged and waiting.

And the silence? That was the worst part.

It felt like the room itself was holding its breath

The teacher uncorked the glowing vial with a soft pop, tilting it carefully toward Bob’s mouth. His movements were slow, precise—almost ritualistic. The liquid shimmered like it had a mind of its own, swirling inside the glass as if aware of what it was about to do.

I hesitated.

My instincts screamed at me to say something, to object, to shout, “Wait! Are we really doing this?” But I didn’t. I stood frozen, torn between suspicion and hope. Maybe the teacher really was trying to help. Maybe, for once, something in this school was actually going right.

So I said nothing.

The red liquid slipped past Bob’s lips in a single drop. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a heartbeat, everything in the room seemed to stop. No one breathed. No one moved.

Then, before my eyes, the bruise over his eye began to fade.

It didn’t just lighten—it melted away like a shadow retreating from the light. The swollen skin deflated, the angry reds and purples vanishing into his natural color, smooth and unmarked. Within seconds, it was like he had never been hit at all.

Gasps echoed around the room. One girl actually dropped her phone.

Bob blinked a few times, then sat up straighter, his hand brushing over his now-perfect cheekbone like he wasn’t sure it was real.

“I… feel fine,” he said, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

I couldn’t stop staring. The vial was still in Mr. Science Teacher’s hand, glowing faintly as though it had just done something incredible—and wanted to do more.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed…

…or afraid.

“Um, that’s not good,” I said.

“What?” Mr. Science Teacher asked. “I just healed the boy. I was expecting to fix a small scratch or something, but this works too.”

“You care about me, Felicia,” Bob said as he got up.

“No, of course not,” I replied, then turned to the teacher. “Mr. Science Teacher, I’m watching you.”

“As you should—this is science class.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mr. Smarty-Pants.”