The next Monday, during free time at school, Minh and Tài met in the schoolyard.

  Tài never liked going to the canteen, so they chose an empty corner instead.

  But unlike yesterday, their meeting was quiet, weighed down by what had been said.

  Tài finally broke the silence.

  “So… last night. What you said, was it true?”

  Minh nodded. “Yes.”

  “How serious was it?”

  “You already went through it,”

  Minh answered.

  “So you know.”

  Tài paused, as if hoping the truth might shift.

  Then he asked again, softer this time:

  “The one building up Chaos… was our friend?”

  Minh’s reply came out with an unpleasant edge.

  “Yes. Your friend AND my friend. Not .”

  But Tài didn’t complain about the tone.

  He only wanted a different answer, any answer that didn’t confirm what he already feared.

  Yet it was the same.

  Then both of them fell into silence.

  Minh had already carried this burden once, when he tried to help Tài before.

  Back then, he had the strange experience of a friendly Chaos guiding him, giving him hints that helped him figure Tài out.

  But now, he was on his own.

  Tài wasn’t helping, at least that was how it felt.

  Minh knew it wasn’t exactly Tài’s fault, but the thought still pressed against his chest.

  Instead of asking for support, he chose silence.

  Tài, however, did not think the same way as Minh.

  His mind drifted back to the pain he had felt in the Chaos realm.

  Without Minh there, he wasn’t sure what would have become of him.

  The memory left him shaken, confused, unsure of what was real and what wasn’t.

  He didn’t feel Minh’s burden.

  Instead, his thoughts wandered to his dearest friends, to his family, anchors in the storm.

  In that haze, he even forgot Minh’s words:

  Both of them chased their own thoughts, carrying their burdens alone.

  Even though their friendship had grown stronger in recent days, it still wasn’t strong enough to let them share what weighed on their hearts.

  Free time was nearly over, and still they had no idea where to begin their investigation.

  The bell rang, announcing the end of the break, but they remained seated, lost in thought.

  One of Tài’s classmates ran past and called out,

  “Hey Tài, why are you sitting there?

  What happened to you? Hurry up, free time’s over!”

  Both Minh and Tài snapped out of their silence.

  They immediately got up and rushed toward their classrooms.

  But something struck Minh’s mind.

  He turned and shouted after Tài:

  “Wait for me when school ends, at the gate, as usual!”

  Tài heard him and gave a small nod.

  School time passed as usual but for Minh, it felt far too long.

  The thoughts in his head kept pulling at him, making it impossible to focus on the lessons.

  When the final bell rang, he rushed straight to the gate.

  Tài arrived a moment later.

  Like Minh, he had spent the entire day uneasy, hoping Minh had some clue, some direction.

  That hope had made every class drag on endlessly.

  The moment Minh saw Tài at the gate, he stepped forward and pressed him:

  “Answer me, during free time, who did you think about?

  Who did you feel was in danger?”

  Tài was startled, but replied,

  “At first… some of our classmates from junior high, like Tam, Hi?n.

  But then… damn it, I lost myself in thought and started thinking about my friends in this class.”

  Minh nodded firmly.

  “Me too. I let my mind wander and thought about my own classmates.

  But when your friend called you, I realized, my classmates aren’t your connection.

  You can’t feel them.”

  Just then, Tài’s father arrived to pick him up.

  Minh leaned closer and said quietly,

  “Tonight, in that realm.”

  Tài gave a quick nod.

  “Alright.”

  He turned back, waved a brief farewell, and left with his father.

  Mondays were always tiring, but carrying the burden and forcing himself to focus on studying made this one feel like hell on earth.

  For Minh, the day crawled by heavy and long, every minute weighed down by what awaited him.

  At last, bedtime came. Time to meet Tài again.

  Exhaustion from the long day wore Minh down, and he fell asleep the moment he lay on his bed.

  The Chaos Realm unfolded around him.

  “Tài!”

  He shouted into the fog. But no one came.

  Minh thought, forcing himself to wait.

  While waiting, he turned his attention to the Chaos of his unknown friend.

  The power there was rising, much stronger than before, but still, no domain had formed.

  “Still time,”

  He muttered to himself.

  Minh’s focus stayed locked on the shifting Chaos.

  He didn’t even notice that Tài had already arrived beside him.

  “Minh,” Tài called.

  Minh jolted, startled out of his thoughts.

  He looked up and saw Tài standing there.

  Minh’s mind was clouded, his thoughts tangled.

  He couldn’t gather them into order.

  He turned to Tài.

  “How about a few battles? I need to relax… clear my head.”

  Tài nodded without hesitation.

  “Okay, Minh. Both of us, let’s relax, man.”

  A few battles with the unchained Chaos helped Minh and Tài relax a little.

  The tension in their chests eased, and Minh’s mind finally began to focus again.

  When he felt steady, Minh turned to Tài.

  “Let’s teleport to my safe place. We’ll talk there.”

  Tài agreed, and together they shifted away.

  The moment they arrived at Minh’s safe place, both of them sat down on the ground.

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  “Sorry, Tài,” Minh said softly.

  Tài blinked, surprised.

  “What for?”

  “For not trusting you.”

  Tài shook his head with a faint grin.

  “Don’t bother with that. We’re pals, right?”

  Suddenly, a strange energy rose between them.

  Both felt warm and light, their mood lifted as if a hidden bond had awakened.

  Minh realized what had happened his will had reached out and cast a supportive spell on Tài.

  It was the first spell he had ever learned.

  He named it , an improved version of the spirit skill

  Minh asked quietly,

  “What is this feeling… so good, so warm?”

  Tài smiled.

  “That’s friendship, Minh.

  Seems like you’ve isolated yourself from others for so long that you even forgot what friendship feels like.”

  Minh lowered his head in shame.

  “It’s okay,”

  Tài said gently.

  “I’ll remind you, the feeling you once had.”

  He paused, his voice softening with memory.

  “Remember when we were still close friends?

  We shared joy, the fun, we chased the sun.

  And not only that we cried under the moon and shared our sadness too.”

  Hearing those words, Minh’s chest tightened.

  Memories stirred. He muttered,

  “I lost so many beautiful things…”

  Tài continued,

  “When you rescued me, you saw me as your friend, as your connection, but not as your close friend anymore.

  And so it was for me, too.

  But the moment you recognized me again, our friendship came back.

  I still remember everything, even if you don’t.”

  Minh’s eyes closed, and Tài’s words pulled him backward through time.

  He saw it, two boys running barefoot down the street after school, laughing as the sun sank behind the rooftops.

  The heat of summer, the sound of cicadas, the simple joy of racing each other without care.

  Then another memory, hiding under a tree on a rainy evening, sharing snacks, laughing at nothing.

  And then darker ones, sitting side by side in silence, tears falling, neither speaking, yet both knowing the other’s pain.

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  Crying under the pale moonlight, but never alone.

  The images overlapped, joy and sorrow woven together.

  Minh’s chest ached as he realized what he had let slip away.

  While Minh was still lost in the warmth of long-forgotten memories, Tài broke the silence with a grin.

  “So, Mr. Jungle, how about the next step?”

  Minh woke from his dreamlike memories and smiled.

  “We’ll work together, Mr. Robot.”

  Tài smiled.

  “I know, Minh.

  We won’t get anywhere if we keep going separate ways.

  But… how do we even begin?”

  Minh thought for a moment, then said,

  “I think… first, we need to make a list.

  A list of friends, not yours, not mine. Ours.”

  Tài nodded, and together they began naming friends.

  But soon, confusion set in.

  They argued over who was suspicious and who wasn’t.

  Some names were repeated over and over, while others slipped away, forgotten.

  Finally Minh sighed.

  “We’re going in circles, Tài.

  The list has to be written down, not just remembered like this.”

  “Agreed,”

  Tài said. He glanced around the empty realm.

  “But… in this place, can we even create paper and pen?

  Like the way we made the pills?”

  Minh shook his head.

  “No. Not here. But it’s late anyway.

  Let’s write it down tomorrow.

  I’ll see you in free time, same place as today.”

  Tài gave a short nod. “Deal.”

  At Tuesday in free time, while Minh and Tài argued over the names on the list, the school speakers crackled to life:

  “Nguy?n Phúc Tài and Ph?m Thành Minh, report to the director's office at once.”

  Both of them froze.

  Quickly, Tài folded the paper, and Minh slipped it into his trouser pocket.

  Without another word, they hurried toward the director's office.

  They arrived at the director’s office and knocked.

  A calm but commanding voice answered:

  The door creaked open, and Minh and Tài stepped inside.

  At once, the weight of the room pressed on them.

  The principal

  sat at the head of the long table, the supervisory officerhomeroom teacherStanding near the corner were two boys, the bullies, one of them the very one who had tried to shove Minh against the lockers just last Friday.

  But it wasn’t only school staff.

  Seated gracefully on a leather chair was a woman in a luxury suitShe exuded authority, her gaze flicking between Minh and Tài with the cool detachment of someone used to making decisions that changed people’s lives.

  The air felt heavy, and Minh instinctively slid his hand against his trouser pocket where the folded paper lay hidden.

  Minh straightened his back, his voice clear and steady.

  The woman’s face flushed with anger.

  She slammed her hand against the armrest of her chair.

  The principal

  The woman faltered, her confident tone breaking into hesitation.

  Still calm, the principal folded his hands over the desk.

  The room went silent.

  The bully shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at his mother.

  The teachers exchanged quick looks, as if already sensing where the truth was leaning.

  The woman slammed the table with her hand.

  The principal’s calm voice cut through her shouting, firm and commanding.

  The woman opened her mouth, ready to argue, but no words came.

  Her face flushed with frustration, and the room grew heavy with silence.

  The principal turned his eyes toward the teachers.

  Tài’s homeroom teacher spoke first.

  Next, Minh’s homeroom teacher stepped forward.

  The teacher’s eyes locked onto one boy.

  Vinh flinched under the weight of that gaze, trying to look away.

  The teacher’s voice sharpened.

  Gasps rippled among the staff.

  The woman spun toward her son, her eyes sharp as knives.

  But her voice sounded strained, like someone defending a truth even she no longer believed.

  The principal’s eyes shifted to the supervisory officer.

  The officer nodded, then walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick file.

  He handed it to the principal.

  The principal flipped it open, scanned the pages, then passed several documents across the desk to the woman.

  “Here are the complaints against your son.

  It seems many students have filed accusations of bullying.

  We’ve sent multiple invitation letters to resolve these cases, but it appears none of them ever reached you.”

  The woman stared at the papers, her face twisting.

  Slowly, her eyes turned on her son, fury burning in them.

  She had come here to demand justice for him, but now she realized she had only uncovered his crimes.

  When she looked back at the principal, her gaze had softened, but her chin was still raised high.

  The principal shook his head calmly.

  The woman’s eyes went wide. Her voice cracked.

  The principal nodded once.

  Her face drained of colour, pale as ash.

  Her voice dropped, trembling now, no longer sharp but pleading.

  The principal leaned back in his chair, his voice steady as stone.

  The room was silent, the weight of judgment pressing down on all of them.

  Vinh seemed stunned, as if he had never before been made small.

  He opened his mouth, furious,

  A sharp slap cut him off.

  The woman’s hand landed hard across his cheek; the office fell utterly silent.

  No more pretending.

  Her face was a mask now, anger, shame, and a fierce, sudden clarity.

  She snapped.

  She forced Vinh and his friend forward until their voices were choking with the forced words:

  Minh and Tài accepted the apology with the same quiet dignity they had shown all morning.

  Their homeroom teacher gave them a small, approving nod and led them back to class.

  For the first time that day, they felt light, relieved, even giddy and the list in Minh’s pocket was forgotten in the rush of triumph.

  But the moment they stepped out of the principal’s office and into the corridor, the victory turned thin.

  A sudden, familiar pain stabbed through Minh’s chest.

  He stopped, doubled slightly, and looked at Tài.

  In Tài’s eyes was the same hollow ache worse for being shared. No more celebrations.

  Tonight, they both knew, they had to go back into that other place.

  The realm would not wait.

  That night, the Chaos Realm wrapped itself around them like a storm.

  Minh arrived first, the air thick with unease. He closed his eyes, reaching outward, and felt it, darker, sharper than before.

  The Chaos wasn’t scattered anymore; it had taken shape. A domain

  He turned, and there was Tài.

  No words were needed at first; they both felt the pull.

  Finally, Minh broke the silence. His voice was tight.

  Tài nodded slowly, his jaw clenched.

  Minh shook his head, frowning.

  The two of them stared into the roiling mist, where something pulsed like a heart waiting to be broken.

  Tài’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  Minh didn’t hesitate.

  They stepped forward. The world shivered.

  Minh and Tài emerged into the new domain, the fog wrapped tighter here, thicker than any they had seen.

  No clear walls, no solid landmarks, only shifting shadows that bent the eye.

  Tài narrowed his gaze, uneasy.

  Minh’s eyes swept the mists, his face dark.

  A silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of the unknown.

  The fog seemed to pulse as if listening.

  Tài clenched his fists.

  Minh’s jaw tightened.

  The fog stirred, like a breath exhaled, and for the first time, both of them realized: something inside already knew they were here.

  Minh and Tài pressed forward into the foggy domain.

  They had to know.

  Maybe inside, there would be some sign, some thread pointing to the Chaos’s true origin.

  But the moment they crossed deeper, the fog thickened until sight itself was useless.

  Then:

  “BANG! THUD!”

  A strike came out of nowhere.

  Tài staggered back, shouting,

  “Where did that come from?!”

  Minh spun, eyes wide, but the fog was blindfold and prison both.

  “I can’t see a thing! The fog’s too thick!”

  Another blow crashed into them, hurling Tài aside.

  “I’m down, where are you, Minh?!”

  Minh winced as claws of Chaos raked his side.

  “Same here, keep talking, I’ll find you!”

  Through the storm, Tài forced himself to defend, swinging wildly at shadows while shouting whatever came to mind, anything to be heard.

  Minh pushed toward the sound, enduring attack after attack until at last his hand caught Tài’s arm.

  “Is that you, Tài?!”

  “It’s me!”

  Without hesitation, Minh unleashed his teleport.

  The spell wasn’t meant for two, it tore through his spirit, ripping at his mind like fire.

  But still, they blinked, out of the suffocating fog, out of the domain, and collapsed at its entrance.

  Minh fell hard, drained to the bone.

  Tài dropped to one knee, then quickly hoisted Minh onto his back.

  He staggered away from the border until the air felt lighter, the pressure of Chaos easing.

  Only then did the sense of safety wash over them, sharp as breath after drowning.

  A sigh returned to them, sharp and heavy, as if they had been drowning.

  Minh and Tài quickly swallowed their recovery pills, bracing themselves for another assault, yet no Chaos came.

  The fog behind them stilled.

  Without wasting time, they turned and slipped back into Minh’s safe place, the only haven left in the storm.

  The moment Minh and Tài returned to Minh’s safe place, their legs gave out. Both sank to the floor, breath ragged.

  Tài rubbed his arm, still sore from the fog’s assault.

  “Too thick to see anything,”

  He muttered.

  “Even when you stood right beside me, I couldn’t see you.”

  Minh nodded slowly.

  “That’s why the Chaos warned me… never to enter the foggy domain.”

  Tài’s head lifted. “Who?”

  “The one who saved me,”

  Minh said. His voice softened.

  “The Chaos who taught me everything I know. But…”

  He looked down, hands trembling.

  “…he vanished.”

  For a heartbeat, Tài simply stared.

  Then he asked, “So, no help?”

  “No. But I found a clue.”

  Minh’s eyes sharpened.

  “The domain stirred when we stepped in, like it recognized us.

  Just like when I entered your domain, Tài.”

  Tài frowned.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning the Chaos origin bears a grudge against both of us.”

  “Both?” Tài whispered.

  “Yes,”

  Minh said firmly.

  “Think back, who fought us both?

  Who vanished after your birthday?

  Who left us behind in junior high?

  The circle of suspects is shrinking.”

  Silence lingered, heavy. Then Minh straightened.

  “Tomorrow. Same place.”

  Tài gave one sharp nod.

  For a moment, relief settled over them like a fragile glass.

  But then, from the corner of the room, the mist seemed to pulse once, faint as a breath.

  Neither boy noticed.