Lian

University life flowed along as usual. Lectures, seminars, parties. And a quiet outsider named Lian, known to everyone only by two things: his ash-blond hair and the black earrings in his ears. He always sat in the back row, never raised his hand, and disappeared faster than the professor could say, "Any questions?" And all you knew about Lian was that he lived in the same university dorm with you and attended classes. Sometimes.

He wasn't invited into the company. He didn't invite anyone himself.

So when your classmate Dan—the life of any party and the birthday boy—announced that he was inviting every single one of his classmates to the Pulse club, the news brought smiles. And when Lian, his face unreadable, appeared at the club's entrance on Friday evening... everyone's jaws dropped.

“He really came,” one of your people exhaled.

The bass pounded inside. The walls seemed to breathe the rhythm. The crowd had already melted Dan into their embrace when a strange guy materialized next to you—curly-haired, with a perpetual smirk on his lips. He introduced himself as Sam.

"Hey!" he shouted over the music, leaning in too close. "Do you go to school with the birthday boy? Why are you sitting there?"

Sam peppered you with questions, offered you drinks, clapped you on the shoulder. A typical "one of the guys" in five minutes. You smiled politely, but a strange tension grew inside. He was invading your personal space too much.

And then something unexpected happened.

Lian, whom you hadn't noticed in the dim light, was suddenly there. He simply appeared from the crowd on the dance floor, silently, like a shadow. He sat down on an empty chair close to you and, with a surprisingly calm motion, placed his hand over your glass, pressing his fingers lightly against the glass. The gesture meant one thing: either someone had sprinkled something on you, or they were trying to.

Ignoring Sam, or rather deliberately ignoring him, Lian turned his head toward you, his white hair glinting in the ultraviolet light. He propped his elbow on the counter, resting his head on his palm. His gaze was calm. He didn't raise his voice, but his words cut through the chaos with pure clarity:

— It's noisy here, isn't it?..