Prologue - The Mysterious Announcement... Or not.

The first time I heard about Eternal Child Week, I thought it was some kind of prank.

A pointless holiday, a distraction, or maybe just a sad attempt at rebranding nothing into something exciting. The announcement came with all the usual government nonsense—press releases, news segments, that fake, suffocating hype—but no real explanation. Just a bunch of vague stuff about “limitless potential” and “the dawn of a new era.”

Yeah, sure. Totally buying that.

And now? I was stuck in a boiling-hot school auditorium, listening to what was basically a glorified sales pitch.

Liana, my best friend and certified chaos gremlin, was sprawled out next to me like a bored cat, legs stretched as far as she could get away with. She had never once in her life sat like a normal human.

“If this turns into one of those ‘Embrace the Future’ speeches,” she muttered, “I’m out.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the stage. “Out how? You gonna pull some grand exit?”

“Damn right,” she said, flicking her hair back dramatically. “Might even throw in a slow-motion walk just to make it iconic.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Just… maybe don’t get expelled before lunch.”

She grinned. “No promises.”

The lights dimmed. A massive projector screen flickered on. The Global News Network logo flashed before cutting to one of those news anchors with the voice of a really expensive commercial.

"Citizens of the world," she began smoothly. "Today marks the beginning of a historic change. In preparation for the first-ever Eternal Child Week, the government has issued the following statement."

The screen switched to some sterile-looking press room. A government official stood at a podium, the human embodiment of serious business. His suit was perfect. His face was unreadable.

"As we stand at the dawn of a new era, we must embrace both progress and reflection," he declared, sounding about as emotional as a voicemail recording. "This week-long observance is not merely a celebration, but a recognition of limitless potential. Further details will be released in the coming days."

Then—just like that—the feed cut off.

Silence.

Then, a wave of groans.

Liana threw her head back. “Ugh! That told us nothing!”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Yeah. Because they don’t want us to know anything.”

All around us, people were already pulling out their phones. Memes were flying, social media was exploding with jokes and wild theories. Some people whispered about what it really meant. Others just wanted everyone to shut up about it.

Our principal, looking like he regretted his life choices, cleared his throat into the mic. “Now, I know some of you have questions, but I encourage you all to keep an open mind. More information will be provided throughout the week.”

Someone in the back muttered, "Sure it will."

I had to bite back a laugh.

“Alright,” the principal continued, already halfway to checked out. “You may return to class.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the room exploded into movement.

Liana stretched with a groan. “Well. That was a waste of time.”

“At least we got out of class,” I pointed out, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

She wiggled her fingers. “Oooooh, at what cost, though?”

I gave her a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it.”

We wove through the hallway traffic, dodging slow walkers and groups that had already moved on from the topic completely. But something about the whole thing bugged me.

No one was actually talking about it. Sure, there were jokes and complaints, some half-hearted theories, but no real concern. No one was even asking why this new holiday existed in the first place.

And that was what unsettled me.

I turned to Liana, keeping my voice low. “You seriously don’t think this is weird?”

“Oh, it’s weird,” she admitted. “But it’s the kind of weird where you just let it happen and hope it doesn’t get too bad.”

I gave her a flat look. “That is a terrible approach to life.”

“And yet, here I am—thriving.”

I groaned. “I hate you.”

She smirked. “You wish you did.”

When we reached our lockers, I hesitated. That nagging feeling still hadn’t gone away.

“This whole thing just feels off,” I muttered.

Liana tapped her chin. “What, like government conspiracy off, or boring corporate nonsense off?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if this was supposed to be some fun new holiday, wouldn’t there be sponsorships? Merch? Like—Celebrate Eternal Child Week with limited-edition Pepsi or some garbage like that?”

She hummed. “Okay, yeah. That is kinda weird. Maybe they’re just bad at marketing?”

I shook my head. “No way. The government never rolls something out without a reason.”

Liana leaned against her locker, smirking. “You are so obsessed with this.”

"You made a twenty-minute speech about why the cafeteria should sell better snacks."

“And I stand by that,” she shot back. “But this is different. You freak out when things don’t make sense. It’s, like, your default setting.”

I frowned. “I do not—”

Liana gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re totally one of those noir detectives who narrate everything to themselves.”

Oh no.

Oh no.

She did not just say that.

Liana’s face went pale as she realized exactly what had come out of her mouth.

She glanced nervously at me.

“Uhh…” she stammered, backing up.

I stood perfectly still, tilting my head slightly. And smiled.

Not a normal smile.

Not my usual tired, deadpan smirk.

It was calm. Too calm.

The kind of calm that sent Liana’s fight-or-flight instincts into full panic mode.

She took another step back. “Wait—”

“Liana, girl~” I said sweetly. Too sweetly. “Would you like to repeat that?” My smile stayed, but my eye twitched. Just a little.

Her hands hastily shot up in surrender. “Okay, let’s not do anything hasty—” she spoke nervously

“Am I too kind to you~?” My eye twitched again.

Liana, for once in her life, shut up.

I let the silence hang just long enough before exhaling and turning back to my locker. My smile vanished like it had never been there.

She stayed frozen for a few seconds before finally slumping against the lockers, letting out a long breath.

“Good lord, that was terrifying.” She wiped nonexistent sweat from her forehead. “I hate when you do that.”

I smirked. “Then stop being annoying.”

“Impossible.”

The bell rang.

“C’mon, let’s go,” I said, already walking away.

Liana followed, still shaking her head. “One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”