My head was pounding, my entire body ached, and I was desperate for sleep. Today, I’d clearly gotten out of bed on the wrong side. Or rather, I’d stumbled out of it in a rush.
“Vita, are you even listening to me?” Olya waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We were sitting in the nearly empty university cafeteria. Despite it being the big lunch break, there wasn’t much of a crowd here, which was pretty much the norm. I couldn’t understand how a girl like Olya, who was such a homebody, could stomach eating in the campus dining hall. Even the dorm kids avoided it. But she always insisted that her brain needed constant refueling to function. That’s why we spent every break either here, at the campus snack bar, or at the nearest coffee shop if we had a free period. I had zero appetite today, so I just sat there, drowsily watching Olya shovel food into her mouth with quick spoonfuls.
“Sorry, I zoned out,” I mumbled, forcing my tired eyes to focus on my friend. As usual, she was busy fishing out bits of onion from her bowl of soup.
“Where’s your head at? I was saying we’ve gotta turn in our project to Victor Olegovich today. You know it’s nearly impossible to get an A from him. And if he flunks you, you can kiss your scholarship goodbye. Just like me, by the way.”
“Yeah,” I agreed weakly, yawning for the umpteenth time.
“Why are you so out of it? Did someone in the dorm keep you up all night again?”
“No. Just had a weird dream.”
“My grandma always says dreams are glimpses of the future,” Olya declared with a serious tone, pushing her half-eaten plate aside. “You just have to learn how to interpret them. Come on, tell me what you saw.”
“I don’t know. It was just nonsense.”
“So what?” Olya waved off my hesitation. “Tell me anyway. My grandma taught me a few tricks.”
For a moment, I debated whether to share my nightmare, but I decided to indulge Olya’s curiosity.
“I remember standing in the middle of a street, and there was nothing around me. Like, literally nothing—no buildings, no trees, no sidewalks—just empty asphalt, as if a huge area had suddenly vanished, and I was the only one left. Then, out of nowhere, a black cat walked up to me. At first, I was scared, but then it rubbed against my leg and purred loudly, so I bent down to pet it,” I said, closing my eyes as the memory replayed in my mind. “In the distance, I heard footsteps. I looked up and saw a man approaching. He seemed so familiar, but I can’t for the life of me remember where I’ve seen him before. The cat started walking toward him slowly, and when it got close, it transformed into a massive snake and lunged at him. I didn’t even have time to process it before the snake wrapped around his neck and started choking him. I couldn’t move—my feet were glued to the ground.” I paused for a few seconds, watching Olya, who was leaning in with obvious interest and impatience to hear the rest. I continued, “After the snake strangled the man, it slithered toward me, smooth as anything, and just like that, turned back into the black cat. It circled around me and then calmly walked away. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when my feet started sinking into some gross, slimy stuff. When I looked down, I saw it was a swamp, and the more I struggled to get out, the faster I sank into the muck. Until I was completely submerged. Then I woke up, terrified, drenched in sweat, hands shaking.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” Olya said philosophically, furrowing her brows.
“Just tell me it was a good dream and it means I’ll ace the project,” I quipped with forced cheer, trying to shake off the sticky feeling of fear creeping up my throat again.
“I can humor you: it’s probably not related to the assignment. But that’s where the good news ends. A cat is a bad omen, even if it seemed soft and cuddly to you. And the fact that it turned into a snake? That’s a straight-up symbol of open conflict or even war with an enemy.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have any enemies, and I’m all for resolving conflicts diplomatically. Where’d you even come up with this?” I asked skeptically.
“I told you, my grandma explained it to me.”
“What, she literally said, ‘If a cat turns into a snake, it means war’?” I teased, putting on what I thought was a creepy voice, hinting that I wasn’t buying into these superstitions.
“No, she taught me to trust my gut. And my gut’s telling me this is a really bad dream,” Olya said, looking at me with a seriousness that was totally unlike her.
This conversation was starting to freak me out more than the dream itself, so I tried to escape it as quickly as possible. The best way I could think of was to leave. Saying goodbye to Olya, I told her I was going to try my luck with Victor Olegovich and would come back to tell her how it went.
When I got to the department office, I saw a guy standing by the door, engrossed in something on his phone.
“You here to turn in a project?” I asked.
“Nah, I’ve got other business. But Ryazantsev’s busy right now. You’re after me,” he said, then went back to scrolling on his phone.
I walked over to the opposite wall where there was a bench and sat down. My eyes kept trying to close, and I couldn’t fight the exhaustion anymore. I let my eyelids droop.
Before I even realized I’d fallen asleep, that empty square appeared before my eyes again, with the same man standing a few feet away. I frantically looked around for the cat or the snake, but thankfully, I didn’t see either. This time, though, I got a better look at the man, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen him somewhere before. Enough with the mysteries. If my subconscious was trying to tell me something, I’d ask outright.
“Hey, have we met before?” I asked, walking up to him.
The man looked at me, and raw terror flashed in his eyes. He jerked back, then collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. I rushed over and dropped to my knees beside him, but there was nothing I could do. Within seconds, I was kneeling next to his lifeless body. Suddenly, it transformed into a snake and lunged at me. I screamed at the top of my lungs and felt myself falling. In that moment, a foggy realization hit me that this wasn’t real, and I forced my eyes open.
I was still on the bench, though in a less comfortable position now—my body had slid sideways against the wall, and I was almost lying down. I jolted upright and glanced around. The guy by the door was staring at me weirdly before drawling out slowly, “I think I’ll come back another time.”
With that, he left the hallway. I figured I’d had enough of sitting and decided to stand, worried I’d scare off every student at this rate.
I didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the door creaked open quietly, and a tall girl stepped out. Looking closer, I recognized her from my class, which meant she’d definitely been turning in her project. Feeling a bit more encouraged and pushing aside my stray thoughts, I decided to ask how it went.
“Hey,” I called out, “so, what grade did he give you?”
The girl turned to face me and stared straight into my eyes. For a second, I thought she might hit me or yell—her gaze was anything but calm.
“Stay away from me,” she hissed.
“I just wanted to ask about the project,” I said, throwing my hands up in confusion.
“Don’t come near me, or I’ll break the whole plan and kill you myself.”
“Sorry, what?”
“This isn’t my time. Go find someone else,” she said, waving a hand dismissively as she backed away slowly, almost like she was wary of me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who am I supposed to find? If you don’t want to answer, fine. Or did you just pay him off? I heard he’s strict, though. Unless it depends on the amount…”
“What are you babbling about?” she asked, looking genuinely surprised. “Are you out of your mind?”
Without waiting for a reply, she stepped closer and peered into my eyes even more intently, grabbing my hands.
“So, you’re not here for me,” she exhaled with relief. “Listen, if you’re going through something, go home and rest. Why are you scaring people?”
“I’m just a little sleep-deprived. Didn’t realize I looked that bad. Definitely not bad enough to be mistaken for death itself,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
She didn’t seem to appreciate my humor, raising her eyebrows in confusion. Then she tossed her long blonde hair back, turned, and walked off. What a piece of work—she didn’t even say anything. Though, without looking back, she shouted one last thing over her shoulder, “By the way, you’re welcome.”
Now I was completely lost.
Deciding not to dwell on the bizarre encounter (who knows what that girl was on), I pushed the door open with determination and stepped into the department office. Victor Olegovich taught us administrative law, and since it was one of the core courses in law school, he took our work way too seriously. So, when I spotted him at the far desk, my knees started trembling noticeably. Gathering my courage, I approached the desk and blurted out in one breath, “Victor Olegovich, I’m here to submit my project.”
He lifted his hazy gaze to me and stared blankly somewhere above my right shoulder. His lifeless eyes genuinely unnerved me, so I swallowed hard and repeated more slowly, “Victor Olegovich, I’m Vita Kolesnikova, second year. You said we needed to turn in our projects today.” I held out a stack of papers in a plastic folder. He lowered his head to look at my hands but didn’t take the project. After standing there in complete silence for another minute, I was totally at a loss for what to do next. The thought crossed my mind to just leave the work on the desk and go, but what if he was unwell and needed help? His behavior was so odd. Deciding to make one last attempt, I almost whispered, “Victor Olegovich, are you going to review it now, or…”
Before I could finish, he snatched the folder from me and silently began flipping through the pages. He did it so quickly that I almost thought he wasn’t reading at all, but his head moved side to side, as if he were following every line with not just his eyes but his whole body. I couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle—it looked so comical, like a robot reading instead of a person. But soon, I wasn’t laughing. Watching my professor repeat this strange, monotonous motion for several minutes, it became clear he wasn’t himself, and I got seriously scared. What are you even supposed to do when someone’s acting this unhinged? Should I call someone or get help? But who? And what would I even say—“Help, the professor’s lost it”? I’m pretty sure they’d think I was the crazy one, or worse, expel me for insulting a faculty member. Knowing I had to do something, I tried speaking again.
“Is everything okay?” He looked up at me, but again, it was like he was staring right through me. “I mean with the project,” I nodded toward the papers in his hands. “If there’s something I need to fix or redo, just say so, and I’ll get it done. I’m on a scholarship,” I hinted, but he kept staring at me expectantly, so I added cautiously, “I really need a good grade.”
At that, he spun around so abruptly that I jumped in surprise. He started rummaging through his documents, searching for something with intense focus. Again, his movements were mechanical, too fast, not at all like normal human behavior. When he finally pulled out the paper he was looking for, I tried to peek over his shoulder discreetly to see what he was doing. When I saw it was our class grade book, I was stunned. But what happened next completely floored me: Ryazantsev picked up a pen and marked a perfect score right next to my name. After finishing with the grade book, his movements lost their sharpness, his eyes their clarity. He turned back to me, and most disturbingly, stared through me again, as if I wasn’t even there. I didn’t have the strength or desire to stay in the same room with this man any longer, so I turned around without a word and nearly ran out of the office.
God, what was that? Am I losing it, or am I still dreaming? If this is a dream, it’s the weirdest one I’ve ever had. Even those snakes and cats don’t seem as creepy now compared to that man’s empty stare. I’m sure it’ll haunt me for a while. To make sure I was still sane, I pinched myself. It hurt—a lot—and I instinctively rubbed the spot on my arm. Not dreaming. At least there’s a silver lining to this mess: whatever’s going on with the professor, he gave me an A. I might feel like a selfish jerk, but right now, that’s what matters most. I know how strict he is, how much stress it takes to defend a project for a top grade, and here he didn’t even read mine. I worked hard on it, sure, but better this than endless revisions.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts. Without realizing it, I’d been standing in the middle of the hallway just a few steps from the office I’d fled. Pulling my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I glanced at the screen and answered.
“So, how’d it go?” Olya’s worried voice came through the other end.
“Listen, it’s a long and really weird story. I’ll tell you later.”
“Fine,” Olya’s tone hinted she wasn’t thrilled about being left in the dark, but it seemed she had news of her own and was willing to wait for my story. Sure enough, a second later, she spoke in an excited voice, “Guess what? They canceled our lecture. Some big-shot prosecutor is at the university, and he’s giving a talk about his success story.”
“Again?” I exclaimed, startling a group of students standing by the window. “We were at his lecture yesterday.”
“Yeah. I think they asked him to speak twice so everyone could hear him.”
“Why do we need to hear it twice? It’s not even our field,” I said, throwing my free hand up in frustration.
“I know, but they need the auditorium packed, so they’re herding everyone in.”
“Damn it, I don’t want to go,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly. “I barely listened yesterday anyway—I was finishing up my project.”
“Well, maybe this is your chance to actually listen this time,” Olya chuckled through the speaker. “Or you can just sit there and do your own thing again. Like, tell me what happened with the project.”
I didn’t see the point in arguing or complaining—it wouldn’t change anything, and I wasn’t one to skip class. Sure, plenty of people would see this as a perfect excuse to ditch, but that’s not me, for better or worse. I wasn’t some nerd who only cared about school, but I also wasn’t the perpetually drunk student ready to do anything for a good time. So, agreeing to meet Olya in the auditorium, we said goodbye.
I got to the wide double doors of the auditorium almost immediately. I was already on the right floor; all I had to do was walk down a long hallway. There were two entrances to the hall: the main one from the central stairs and a side one near the classrooms. I approached the side entrance, peeked inside, and saw the rows half-filled with students slowly taking their seats.
Scanning the room, my eyes accidentally landed on a familiar figure. The same girl I’d run into outside Ryazantsev’s office was standing a little off to the side of the door I’d entered through, leaning casually against the wall. She looked like she was anticipating the event, but for some reason, she wasn’t taking a seat in the hall. I didn’t want to cross paths with her again. There was something off about her behavior, the way she spoke. And now, I had this weird feeling that she was somehow connected to the professor’s strange actions. Yeah, it’s a crazy, illogical thought, but for some reason, it felt like the most plausible explanation. More likely, I was just creeped out by her, so my mind was pinning every weird thing on her.
As if sensing my stare (though I was gawking so obviously that anyone’s neck would’ve burned), she tossed her long hair back and, without turning around, asked, “So, what grade did he give you?”
Her tone struck me as overly sarcastic, almost mocking. But then it hit me: I’d asked her the exact same thing when she left the office. I didn’t even know how to respond. Should I tell her about the professor’s bizarre behavior, or just say I got an A and end the conversation? While I was figuring out what to say, it dawned on me that she hadn’t even seen who was standing there. How did she know it was me? My overactive imagination and irrational fear didn’t just perk up—they jumped to their feet, waving their arms and screaming that something was seriously off. I should’ve politely answered and gotten the heck out of there, but for reasons I can’t explain, I decided to steer the conversation elsewhere, ignoring her question.
“You here to listen to another success story from some hotshot prosecutor? I didn’t pay much attention to him yesterday. I think he works at the ministry or something.”
Now she turned her head toward me and gave me a really strange look. She studied every inch of my face, scanned my figure, and lingered on my eyes for a long time. It took everything in me to hold her heavy gaze and not look away, but something compelled me to stay put and see what she’d do next. After sizing me up from head to toe, she seemed slightly puzzled, like she couldn’t find the answers she was looking for. Finally, she broke eye contact, looking away with a distant expression, and said, “I couldn’t care less about his success story.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, completely thrown off.
“I just like getting under the skin of people like him,” she said with a shrug. “I know it bugs them to see me. It’s a reminder that they don’t control everything, and not everyone plays by their rules.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but at the same time, I got the distinct feeling she assumed I did. Everything she said was laced with some hidden meaning that, in her mind, should’ve been obvious to me.
“So, you know the guy who’s supposed to speak?” I asked hesitantly.
“Not personally, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out the second he sees me.”
“Yeah, just like I’m figuring it out right now,” I thought to myself, and the absurdity of it made me smirk. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
“And I’m guessing you’re not too worried about him seeing you?”
She tried to make the question sound casual, but I caught a hint of curiosity in her tone. And that really threw me for a loop.
“Why should I be worried?” I asked, voicing my confusion.
“Our kind don’t exactly take to people like you, especially at times like this,” she drawled meaningfully, even turning her head to give me a pointed look that left me utterly stunned. While I scrambled for a response, wondering when exactly she’d lumped me in with this mysterious “our kind,” she studied me again, taking in my reaction to her words, and let out a heavy sigh. “You didn’t understand a single thing I just said.”
It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. She wasn’t crazy. And, if I’m being honest, I’d started to wonder if I was losing it myself. We’d just misunderstood each other from the start, that’s all.
“I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else,” I said with an awkward smile.
“No, someone’s just decided to play with your life however they please,” she said seriously, and her words sent a cold sweat trickling down my spine.
I didn’t even have a chance to respond before she grabbed my hands and started speaking urgently.
“Listen, I know this sounds totally out there, and you probably think I’ve lost it, but you have to trust me. You can’t stay here. You can’t let any of the elders see you today. Just go. Get out of here as fast as you can, head home, and don’t go anywhere tonight. If you’re lucky, everything will be fine.”
I don’t know why—her words bordered not just on crazy but full-on psychosis—but I believed her. I just knew she was telling the truth, and I needed to do exactly as she said.
I glanced around in a daze, not even sure what I was looking for, but everything seemed impossibly normal. The same auditorium, the same university, the same students—and somehow, that made me even more terrified. I turned back to the girl and looked into her eyes. “I don’t even know her name,” the thought flashed through my mind, but I didn’t care. I trusted her, and I wasn’t about to question why. She nudged me toward the exit, mouthing the word “Go.” I nodded and didn’t just walk—I practically bolted out of the hall, nearly tripping over my unsteady legs. Without fully processing where I was going or what I was doing, I stumbled down the stairs and burst outside.
The crisp March breeze cooled my racing thoughts, and I stopped whipping my head around like a horror movie heroine being chased by a maniac. Slowing my pace to something more normal, I tried to calm my heart, which felt like it was about to leap out of my chest or deafen me with its pounding echoing in my ears. I pulled myself together and headed confidently toward the dorm, dialing my friend’s number as I walked.
Before the second ring could even finish, my phone erupted with Olya’s bright voice. “Where the heck did you disappear to? I’ve been looking for you all over the auditorium.”
“Sorry, I had to leave. Don’t ask anything right now, okay? I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” I said tiredly. Before she could protest, I quickly changed the subject. “By the way, I suggest you go see Victor Olegovich right now.”
“I don’t know, I’m not ready to show the world my project. I was still planning to make some final edits,” Olya said uncertainly. “Besides, you don’t go to him with a rough draft.”
“Just trust me: today’s your lucky day,” I said with a smile. “But here’s the thing—go to his office and say right off the bat, ‘Give me an A on my project.’”
“Oh, I get it. They’ve cut the number of scholarship spots, and you’re trying to get rid of me. What, once I’m kicked out, you’ll have less competition?”
I laughed, realizing her theory sounded way more plausible than everything that had actually happened. Or had it really happened? Was I seriously convinced that my professor had been hypnotized—or worse—and that I might actually be in some kind of danger just because a near-stranger told me so? For all I know, this could be some kind of prank or a reality show. Damn it, I couldn’t think straight at all. My brain seemed to refuse to process what was going on. But as the saying goes, “Better safe than sorry.” I figured I’d hole up in my room and stay out of trouble.
“Alright, let’s pretend that today Mercury’s in retrograde or Jupiter’s in Scorpio or whatever, and for the next…” I paused, wondering how long this weird state of our administrative law professor would even last, “ten minutes, Victor Olegovich is giving out A’s to anyone who asks. So hurry up.”
Olya was quiet for a moment, which was so unlike her that I started to wonder if I’d broken something in my friend’s wiring. But eventually, she spoke up. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. Worst case, I can blame my weird behavior on stress. If Ryazantsev yells at me, I’ll just faint and later claim I don’t even remember how I got to his office,” she sang out, tossing a quick “See you tomorrow” before hanging up. It seemed like she actually liked the idea of marching up to the professor and demanding a top grade.
Smiling to myself, I didn’t even notice that I’d reached the university parking lot. The route to the dorm passed right through this hub of arrivals, meetups, breaks, and smoke sessions for students, but I usually took a separate path. It was longer, but it meant I didn’t risk getting shoved, knocked over, or stepped on—especially before the first class when the place was packed. Right now, though, the lot was completely deserted. Not surprising, since the fourth period had just started, and everyone was in class. Since no one was around, I figured, why not take this shortcut, especially since I’d wandered here without thinking? Plus, it was faster, and I was itching to lock myself behind the door of my room.
Just as I convinced myself everything was working out perfectly, a car pulled up in front of me. A tall, distinguished-looking man in an expensive, impeccably pressed suit stepped out. I had to take a few steps back to avoid bumping into him, but when I looked up at his face, I froze. It was him. The man from my dream.