CHAPTER 148: ORIENTATION

CLARK POV:

After breakfast, things moved fast. Before I could even blink, the group of new students—freshmen like me—were being ushered into this large theater-style room. It reminded me of a mini cinema, except there were no movie posters, no popcorn smells. Just rows and rows of seats and that clean, sterile smell of freshly waxed floors and air-conditioned air.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement. A few students were already recording things on their phones, while others laughed and took selfies in the low, stage-lit ambiance. You could practically taste the nerves mixed with excitement. This was the first real official thing at Memoville, and everyone wanted to make a good first impression—even if it was just to blend in.

I took a seat somewhere near the middle and tried to appear calm. Normal. Unbothered. Which would’ve been easier if my mind wasn’t still replaying everything from last night. Lucas’s face. His fear. His shaking hands. The way he’d whispered monsters.

And then—bam—he shows up.

Right there, just a few rows in front of me.

I nearly choked on my own spit. My eyes locked onto the back of his head, and then as if he felt my stare, he turned around—slow, deliberate—and looked straight at me. Our eyes met. I must have looked like a kicked puppy because his face twitched into something unreadable. Not quite a smirk. Not an apology. Just a tired, guarded expression, like someone caught in a storm they couldn’t explain to anyone.

He didn’t leave.

All that panic, the packing at 5 a.m., the wild eyes, the trembling voice... and now here he was. Sitting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t terrified me into questioning my own sanity last night.

A fresh wave of anger bubbled in my chest. I clenched my fists in my lap and looked away.

I was such an idiot.

Of course, it had been a prank. That was what seniors and weird roommates did, right? Scare the newbie. See how long it would take to make them cry, pack, or wet the bed. Hazing, psychological edition. Maybe it was some long-running inside joke: "Whoever makes their freshman roommate break first wins a drink at the senior bar."

If I had actually packed up and left with him—God, the entire dorm would’ve laughed at me. They’d probably record it and upload it to some secret Memoville meme page for a laugh.

"IT’S THE MONSTERS FOR ME 👻💀 #freshiefail"

Ugh. I slumped back in my seat.

The orientation itself started smoothly. A woman in her mid-forties, in a very sharp-looking navy suit with the Memoville crest embroidered on her blazer pocket, stepped on stage and welcomed us with a confident smile.

"Welcome to Memoville," she said, voice crisp and clear, echoing through the hall. "This school is not just an academic institution. It is a legacy."

Then came the standard school stuff—history of the university, rules and regulations, how to reach out to campus security (which I made a mental note of, despite my mood), counseling support, library hours, club sign-up events, and a ten-minute promotional video with slightly-too-dramatic background music. The crowd applauded after everything like we were in some award show, not a university orientation.

I tried to focus. I really did.

But every few minutes, I found myself glancing at Lucas.

Why would he go through all that—only to show up here?

Had I misread it? Was it not a prank? Was it a breakdown? Was he trying to leave and then changed his mind?

Or worse... was it real, and he was just pretending like it wasn’t?

No. No. I shook the thoughts away.

I’d spent half the night twisting every weird detail into some sinister theory, letting fear chew on my brain like it was a midnight snack. The seniors with intense eyes? Probably just tired and on energy drinks. The woman at the counter who smelled my documents and said "delicious"? Probably joking. Weird sense of humor. Everyone was a little weird the first week of college.

Besides, no one else seemed scared. Nobody else was whispering about monsters or disappearing in the middle of the night.

It was just me. And Lucas. And maybe too much anxiety and lack of sleep.

"You okay?" someone beside me asked.

I turned, surprised to see a guy I hadn’t noticed before. He wore a plain black hoodie and glasses, looked just as awkward as I felt.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

He nodded. "Yeah. Long night."

I wanted to ask him—did anything weird happen to you? Did your roommate run around screaming about monsters at dawn?—but I didn’t. Because that would make me sound crazy. And the last thing I needed right now was to be the subject of another prank or become that guy who spiraled during orientation.

Still, my brain wouldn’t shut up.

Maybe it was because the night had felt so off. Maybe it was because of how real Lucas’s fear had looked. You don’t fake that kind of panic. His eyes, his trembling, the two dots of blood on his shirt—none of it screamed prank.

But then again, what else could it be? There were no monsters. This wasn’t a horror movie. I was just overthinking. Classic Clark.

So I sat there, quietly seething and second-guessing everything—until Lucas stood up.

I stiffened.

He walked to the end of the row, bent down slightly, and whispered something to one of the orientation ushers. She nodded, then pointed toward the side exit.

Lucas left without a glance in my direction.

And just like that, he was gone again.

The rest of the session blurred by. Something about student leadership boards, clubs, and electives. A slideshow. Some overly enthusiastic upperclassmen trying to hype up campus events with a mic that squeaked too often. I barely took any of it in.

My thoughts were too busy spiraling again.

Maybe Lucas hadn’t meant to prank me. Maybe something had scared him—but whatever it was, he was alone in it. Maybe he was going through something personal. Hallucinations? Trauma? PTSD?

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. It was hot all of a sudden, despite the AC.

Was this what college was? Constant second-guessing reality while trying to stay chill? Because if so, I was so underprepared.

By the time the orientation ended, my back ached, and my brain was full of static. Students shuffled out in groups—laughing, chatting, making plans. I stayed in my seat for a moment, just letting the noise drift around me like a current I wasn’t ready to join.

Lucas hadn’t come back. I hadn’t seen him after he left. No idea where he went. Or why.

And part of me still wanted to find him. Ask him again, what the hell happened last night? Get a real answer. But another part of me—the tired, cautious, slightly freaked-out part—told me to stay away.

Keep your head down, Clark. You came here to get a degree, not uncover creepy mysteries or make enemies with pale, glowing-eyed seniors.

I finally got up and shuffled out with the crowd.

Tonight was the fresher’s bash. Maybe things would start making more sense then.

Or maybe I’d just meet more people with weird eyes and cryptic warnings.

Either way... I was already in too deep.

Sara had been pulled away from me the moment we stepped into the orientation hall. One second we were walking side by side, the next, her overly enthusiastic roommate had latched onto her like a long-lost sister and dragged her away into the crowd. She gave me an apologetic smile over her shoulder, mouthed something like "I’ll find you later!", and just like that—gone.

By the time I made it in and scanned for a free spot next to her, her entire row was already filled. And I mean filled—backpacks on seats, people squeezed together like they were in a photo booth. So yeah, we didn’t get to sit together during orientation. Just my luck.

But she did wait for me after it ended, standing just outside the hall near the steps like someone waiting to reunite with a travel partner who missed the train. When she spotted me, she grinned, waving like I wasn’t just swallowed up by paranoia and strange roommate theories twenty minutes ago.

"I lost my roommate," she said as I walked up, brushing her braids over her shoulder like it was no big deal. "She found a group of girls from her hometown and vanished like a ghost. But hey, that works out perfectly."

"Oh yeah?" I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets and trying to act normal, like I hadn’t been losing my mind over Lucas earlier.

"Yeah." She nodded, already grabbing my wrist like she had a mission in mind. "Figured we could tour the school grounds together. The campus is even more than I imagined—huge, fancy, mysterious. Better make the most of it before lectures start."

Before I could answer, she tugged at my arm and started walking.

I didn’t resist.

Honestly? After everything that had happened—from ghost roomies to creepy seniors to fake monsters—I was more than happy to just let Sara drag me around and fill the silence with her observations. I needed something normal. And if there was anyone who could make things feel halfway sane, it was her.

Still, a small part of me couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder... just once.

Lucas was gone again. And I had no idea when—or if—he’d show up next.

But for now, I let it go.

Let Sara pull me toward whatever "unknown destination" she had in mind.