Jeongguk had convinced himself he’d die surrounded by white.

The chair he sat on was white, the desk in front of him was white, the walls encircling him were white, and the entire room was lit in white.

The guards were clad in white; the teacher was dressed in white.

His vision was encased in white.

A metal pointer cracked against the surface of his desk, disrupting the brightness.

Wordlessly, Jeongguk looked up at the teacher. Eyes painted over with red stared down at him, distaste clear in them. He placed a pill on top of the table; the redness standing out admits the white. Not even sparing Jeongguk another glance, he was off to the desk besides him.

 The white material of his coat fluttered, spreading more of the color into Jeongguk’s eyes.

Jeongguk let his hand fall limply onto the desk, mechanically gripping the pill.

He didn’t have to look behind him to see the rest of the people doing the same.

The red little pill, making sure they remembered necessary things that would aid them in their future.

Strange, at one point in Jeongguk’s life that particular word had emerged in his thoughts. It was strange, these necessary things the teacher constantly reminded them of.

He had every mathematical formula memorized, stored within his mind for future usage. Yet he couldn’t remember a single name of the people he shared the classroom with.

The thought disappeared as fast as it had appeared, his focus returning to the pill resting in his hand. He instinctively picked it up, putting it in his mouth before swallowing. The teacher had returned to the board, raising the pointer towards the black screen.

The familiar sensation washed over him, cleansing his thoughts in an instance. It was as if a blanket had wrapped itself around his thoughts, clouding his senses as he stared at the teacher with dull eyes.

Flashes of red mixed with the white, spreading into equations across the black. The latter made Jeongguk conscious of the dark uniform he wore himself.

At least he’d die in a color opposite of the accursed brightness he’d suffered through.

His hand twitched, the sudden thought contracting his muscles.

The teacher noticed, pausing in shock. The guards at his sides tensed.

Jeongguk felt something stir inside of him, something foreign.

The emotion expanded, travelling from his quickened heartbeat throughout his veins. He was beginning to sweat, trembling as he felt their eyes boring into his skin. It set of sparks in his brain, igniting something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this, to experience anything at all.

The pill felt heavy in his stomach.

The teacher was barking out orders, pointing directly at him. His loud voice snapped Jeongguk’s out of his reverie, sending his heart pounding even faster. His breathing came out uneven, growing louder as the guards took a careful step forwards.

“You do not have to be afraid, Jeongguk.” The teacher said with a too polite tone, a forced smile on his lips. “Just stay where you are.”

Afraid, was that the word he was searching for?

The guards neared him, shields raised in defense. His hands were clammy as he balled them into fists, trying to prevent them from shaking even more. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, his heart ramming against his chest with each beat while he forced away the dizziness overtaking his mind.

Jeongguk was going to die, surrounded by white and the word afraid.

A crackling noise was heard, shattering the tension in an instance. Jeongguk froze, shakily staring at the intercom. The guards’ heads snapped to the side, staring wide eyed at device while the teacher followed with an expression of dread on his face.

Another crackle was heard before a deafening silence fell. A beat passed, Jeongguk only able to hear his uneven breathing.

“It’s time to claim our freedom back.”

The voice was obscure, disguised by a broken microphone as it boomed across the classroom. Yet it kindled a nostalgic feeling through Jeongguk’s bones.

“There is still hope, that light has not yet been smothered.”

His breathing calmed down, his heart returning to its original pace as Jeongguk concentrated on the voice. Despite the teacher screaming at the guards to shut it down, to stop the madness, the words shot through him like lightning.

“Good men are turning bad to fight for our freedom,” a pause was made, silencing the teacher’s hollering. “And bad men are turning good to aid our cause.”

Something stirred inside Jeongguk, something different to the afraid he’d experienced. A spark of warmth, of strength, of awareness, of words describing emotions Jeongguk did not know he possessed.

Hope, hope was being lit up inside of him.

Something wet slid down his cheek. Slowly, Jeongguk touched the streak it left behind. Liquid, resembling water was leaving his eyes. Yet the action didn’t sadden him, it brought him a sense of peace.

He put his hands on top of the desk, rising from his chair. More hope filled him, surged throughout his veins, when the screeching noise of chairs being pushed back flooded his ears.

He wasn’t alone.

“So if you still feel your heart beating,” the voice called out, growing louder with each word. “Get up!”

The guards were panicking, eyes darting back and forth between him, or them, and the teacher. The latter had an identical look on his face, crumbling to the floor as he searched the students’ faces.

Jeongguk took the first step, hands clenched. He felt another surge of emotion, his mind immediately bringing up the word satisfaction. He was beginning to remember, remember a life he’d lead before he was taken in as a student, as a tool for corruption.

He had a conscience, he along with the rest of the people standing up.

If Jeongguk was going to die, he was going to die surrounded by more than only white.

He was going to die surrounded by all kinds of colors, spelling out the single word he’d needed, hope.