The Case of the Varnished Trainee

The hallway was silent.

Too silent.

Even in the middle of the night, VAERA Dream Academy was never still. There were always muffled footsteps, trainers clicking against tile, or the low hum of a vocal warmup leaking from the soundproof walls.

But tonight?

It was dead.

The cameras in Wing C had stopped working twenty-three minutes ago. A system glitch, they said. "Routine maintenance," the admin email claimed.

No one noticed the flicker in the lights. The way the backup generators pulsed twice before fading into red glow. No one noticed a figure in a black hoodie slip past the dormitory fire exit with bare feet and quiet breath.

Except one person.

Zion Park had been waiting.

He stood at the end of the corridor, near the staff elevator. His hoodie hung low, but his bright eyes gave him away. Always alert. Always thinking. Even now, with his heartbeat slamming in his chest and the stolen keycard burning a hole in his pocket, he couldn't stop thinking.

There were things he wasn't supposed to know. Conversations he overheard. Files he copied and sent to a hidden drive. Secrets too big to erase.

And someone knew.

Because yesterday, he'd found a note on his locker mirror:

"Stop digging or you'll disappear too."

His locker. His mirror. His face.

Now he was walking toward the elevator, toward the records room.

Toward the truth.

A creak behind him.

Zion spun, breath catching.

But it was too late.

The last thing he saw was the glint of a phone screen-recording. Then something sharp slammed into the side of his head.

And everything went dark.

Zion Park was never seen again.

But that wasn't the end of his story.

It was the beginning of mine.

- Kimora Black