The annual cultural festival was on, and the campus was agog with activity.
The pavement leading to the gates was lined both sides by vibrantly colored stalls selling all kinds of delicious food, crafts, and games.
Grilled meat aroma, cacophony of laughter, and chime of conversations filled the air.
At least for one day, the stressors of exams and lectures were gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated joy.
The crowd was thick, but Tong and his friends wove through, intent on one mission alone: to eat the best foods and enjoy every second of fun the festival had in store.
Their laughter echoed as they weaved through the crowd-pointing at vendors, teasing each other, and making witty comments to groups of students passing by.
"People! The takoyaki here must be fantastic!" Nut exclaimed as he went toward the smell of the sizzling batter.
"The fearless leader strikes again!" Tong shouted, smiling, as he followed after them. They passed by groups of students, getting the odd chuckle-often a glare-from a group of girls while Nut's jeers flew through the air like confetti.
While Tong was in the midst of revelry and enjoying the chaos of the festival, someone else was as far from happiness as frustration would take him.
In the complete silence of the dark warehouse on campus, Mark lay in his coffin, his mood as gloomy as the room around him.
It was a festival that meant nothing to him, but to be left behind while Tong wandered around was an insult he couldn't ignore. Hunger gnawed at him, its fire burning his chest and making him angrier with each passing moment.
For something to do, Mark stood, his movements careful and graceful even when he was in a bad mood. He started to dig through the mess that Tong had piled haphazardly under the shelves.His fingers paused when he touched a file that was unfamiliar, the label on the front: Under the Sun.
Mark opened it curiously. Yellowed papers with arcane symbols were falling out, scraps of notes which spoke of secrets so long hidden. His lips curled in a slow, dangerous smile.
"Interesting," he murmured.
The more he read, the hungrier it got. Not for food, but for answers. A truth he should have left well alone. Mark's anger gave way to something colder, more calculating.
There was Tong, on the other hand, surrounded by his own set of curiosities. Among many vendors selling handmade jewelry and quirky craftsmanship, one festival vendor in particular stood out: the one filled with antique odds and ends.
"Guys, look at this place," Tong said, pointing at the weird set of trinkets and jewelry.
Then he saw the shining silver dagger that lay on top of a piece of velvet cloth. The blade was sleek and perfect; the purple stone in the handle shone in the dim light of his flashlight.
"Whoa, that looks so cool," Tong said, reaching for it and smiling.
"Be careful," Yot warned. "You don't know where it is."
Tong shrugged and flipped the dagger over in his hand. "It's just a dagger. What bad thing could happen?" Without thinking, he handed the merchant some money and then stuffed the dagger into his pocket with the same carelessness that had driven Mark crazy.
Mark stared at the documents laid before him, his mind racing. The symbols on the pages were not only ancient but also dangerous. A secret that powerful did not belong in human hands, let alone careless ones like those of Tong.
His hunger grew, now stronger, and his patience finally ran out.
"Damn it, Tong," he growled, his voice low and menacing in the empty room. "You always run away when I need you."
Mark immediately rose from his spot. He couldn't stand by and watch his idiot roommate meddle in things he didn't understand.
Tong didn't have a clue about the brewing storm. The energy was contagious, and his group bounced from stall to stall, trying everything from fried squid to sweet buns.
"Next, game booths!" Nut suggested, pointing to a row of tents in different colors ahead.
"I'm winning all of us prizes!" Tong exclaimed, now jogging toward clanging bells and laughter.
But as the festival swirled around him, an odd unease settled into the pit of Tong's chest. It was subtle, no more than a storm cloud on the horizon of a sunny day.
He pushed it aside, his attention focused on the game before him, but it was still there.
He pushed it aside, concentrating on the game before him, but it was still there.
As the festival swirled with light and laughter, invisible threads of fate tightened. Mark moved through the shadows, driven by hunger and frustration.
Tong was cheerful, but the joy of the festival hid the trouble he had let loose. And in the depths, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As the festival swirled with light and laughter, invisible threads of fate tightened. Mark moved through the shadows, pulled by hunger and frustration.
Jovial and happy, Tong was at the festival, but little did he know, he had let loose a trouble. Somewhere in the midst, danger stirred, waiting for the right moment to strike.