tears of mercury | beastars

chapter 3. A DISTURBANCE IN THE MIST

𖤣𖥧.𖤣𖥧𓆏𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
━━━━━━━━━━━

The night was serene in the carnivore wing of the dormitory. Most of the students were already deep in slumber, their breathing soft and rhythmic, while the distant hum of nocturnal insects filled the cool air.

The moon cast a pale glow on the school grounds, though much of it was shrouded in a thick blanket of fog that rolled in from the nearby hills, giving the school an ethereal yet unsettling atmosphere.

Inside the dormitory building, soft footsteps echoed faintly along the quiet hallway. (Name) wandered aimlessly, her mismatched steps speaking to the fatigue her mind carried despite her body refusing to rest. Her silk pajamas softly rustle against her skin, and the gray blazer draped over her shoulders provided little warmth but plenty of comfort.

Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes with little success.

Why can't I sleep?

Frustration are now bubbling beneath her calm exterior. Normally, she'd drift off without issue, but tonight, a strange restlessness had settled in her chest. Her feet carried her toward the terrace, a place she often retreated to when her thoughts grew too heavy.

Sliding the door open, she stepped into the cool embrace of the night air. The terrace was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional cricket in the distance. Leaning on the metal railing, she gazed out over the school grounds.

From her vantage point, the fog below seemed almost alive, swirling and shifting like a restless tide. The scene was strangely hypnotic, and she found herself lulled into a daze. Her fingers played absentmindedly with the sleeve of her blazer as her eyes scanned the thick mist.

Suddenly, movement caught her attention. A dark shape flitted through the fog—quick and abrupt, gone before she could focus on it. She froze, her breath hitching for a moment.

"What was that?" she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rubbing her eyes to clear the drowsiness away, she looked again, her gaze now sharp and alert. But there was nothing. No movement, no shadow—just the fog, heavy and impenetrable.

She let out a small sigh, chuckling softly at her own paranoia. "It's probably just the wind," she reasoned, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine.

Turning to head back inside, she took a step toward the door when a faint sound made her pause.

It was distant, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably real. A noise carried through the stillness, a low, indistinct murmur that seemed to rise and fall like a whisper. She turned back to the terrace's edge.

"Hello?" she called out instinctively, her voice trembling slightly. The sound didn't return her greeting, but it grew louder—an uneven rhythm of rustling and faint thuds that seemed to echo in the fog.

She squinted into the mist, her eyes darting back and forth in search of something, anything, that could explain the noise. The shadows shifted, and for a moment, she thought she saw a figure—tall, barely discernible through the dense white shroud. Her heart leaped into her throat as she gripped the railing tightly.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice firmer now.

The figure didn't respond. Instead, it seemed to disappear, fading into the fog as if it had never been there. The noise subsided with it, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. (Name) remained rooted to the spot, her mind racing. Had she imagined it? The exhaustion must be playing tricks on her, she decided.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to turn away. "Get a grip," she muttered under her breath, stepping back into the hallway. "They wouldn't be so bold to make another scene this early."

As she walked back to her room, her footsteps felt heavier than before, her mind replaying the scene on the terrace. By the time she reached her door, the rational part of her insisted it was nothing—a shadow cast by the moonlight, or it may be the janitor moving through the grounds.

Yet, as she crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin, her eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling. The fog, the shadow, the noise—they gnawed at her thoughts, refusing to let her rest.

What had she seen? What had she heard?

Outside, the fog thickened once again, curling against the windows and swallowing the moonlight. Somewhere in the distance, a faint murmur echoed once more. But this time, (Name) was too far gone in a restless slumber to notice.

✅ EDITED