Bang! Bang.
“Priest!”
“Hah—!”
I snapped my eyes open. The breath I'd held back exploded out.
A worried-looking female professor gripped my shoulders, shaking me nonstop.
“Are you okay? You've been pouring sweat... If you're unwell, head back first. I'll explain to the president.”
“I-I'm f-fine, hu... Fine.”
Truth was, I wasn't. I wiped the cold sweat drenching my forehead with a handkerchief. Wait. Why's there blood...
“N-no... It's nothing...”
“Priest?”
“...Huh?”
Back again. Thank God. It keeps rising up. I shook my head hard. My thoughts were scrambled, but better that than there.
I forced a weak smile at the professor's still-worried gaze. She sat beside me, face uneasy.
“Oh! Priest! Your hand!”
Hand? I looked down.
The cigarette had burned through the filter, scorching toward my fingers. I stared blankly.
Suddenly, she smacked it away. The pitiful remnant—not even a proper butt—flew off into the distance.
“You sure you're okay? You've got that intro in the auditorium soon.”
“Yeah... Fine. Just tired.”
“You look exhausted... Should've slept properly.”
“Haha...”
Tired. Eyes stinging. Wanted to collapse somewhere and sleep the day away.
I fiddled with my smarting index and middle fingers, muttering. Then I saw my hands trembling. I clasped them tight. The shakes subsided a little.
This is why I hate crowds.
Far off, hordes of freshmen streamed into the academy, faces alight with excitement. The sight dredged up bad memories, creasing my brow.
Stuck a cigarette in my mouth. Already smoked over half the pack, but what's the point of a long life?
The tremors wouldn't quit. The fresh cig tumbled to the dirt.
“Damn it...”
Brushed off the grime, shoved it back in. Gritty soil bittered my tongue.
Looks like I need a refill on the meds.