The first thing that hit me about the University of Sharman wasn’t the size of the buildings, or the perfectly manicured lawns, or even the silence that seemed to hang in the air. No, it was the feeling of being watched. I was only a few days in, but it already felt like every pair of eyes in this foreign city was on me.

I stood by the entrance, clutching the schedule they gave me on arrival. The words blurred in front of me. This wasn’t Wuye. This wasn’t home. There were no familiar faces here. No community where everyone knew your name. Here, everyone was a stranger, and I was one too.

The streets, the university, everything felt... clean, almost sterile. The pavement stretched out in a straight line, as if to remind me that nothing here was ever crooked, not even a little. No potholes, no unpaved paths. No traces of dust in the air. The buildings looked like they had been lifted from a city I had only seen in movies—glass and steel, all shiny and new.

A voice broke my thoughts.

“Hey! You’re Kyon, right?”

I looked up. A white guy—blonde hair, pale skin—stood in front of me, smiling like he knew me.

“You’re from Zaria, right?” he asked.

I hesitated, my heart thudding slightly faster than usual. “Yeah.” The word felt heavy, like admitting something I wasn’t sure anyone would understand. A foreigner in a foreign land.

“I’m Peter,” he continued. “I’m in your orientation group. Thought I’d catch up with you before class starts. You ready for this?”

I glanced at the schedule again. I couldn’t even read the damn thing properly. The words swam in front of my eyes. “I guess,” I muttered, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Peter didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. He smiled wider, clearly excited about something. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. This place, the professors, the work—it’s not as bad as it seems.” He paused, eyes scanning me like he was analyzing every part of my being. “Just keep your head down, don’t try to stand out too much, and you’ll be fine.”

I fought the urge to scoff. I didn’t know how to respond. “Stand out”? That was the least of my problems. I was already standing out just by existing here. A black kid in a sea of pale faces, far from home.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, my voice a little flat.

Peter seemed satisfied. He turned on his heel, walking toward the lecture hall, and I followed, my feet heavy with the weight of my thoughts.

As we approached the door, I couldn’t help but notice the stares from a few of the students who had gathered near the entrance. They weren’t blatant, but the glances were there—curious, even lingering. Some faces looked like they had never seen someone like me before. And maybe they hadn’t.

The door to the lecture hall opened, and Peter ushered me in. The room was large—overwhelmingly so. Rows of desks sat in perfect alignment, and the students filed in, all of them murmuring in hushed voices. I noticed a few more glances in my direction, but this time, it felt different. More cautious. Like they were trying to figure me out.

I took a seat in the back row, as far away from everyone else as possible. The room filled quickly, the air thick with nervous energy. My stomach was in knots, but it wasn’t just the class that was bothering me. It was the whole damn situation.

Here I was, in a country that wasn’t mine, trying to fit into a system I didn’t understand. And the worst part? I didn’t even know if I wanted to fit in.

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I was just another kid in a foreign land, trying to make something of himself. But what if something was wrong with me? What if I wasn’t meant to be here at all? The weight of the scholarship—the opportunity, the pressure, the future—was crushing.

As the lecture started, my mind drifted. I wasn’t really paying attention to the professor; his voice was muffled, his words meaningless. I wasn’t sure if I even belonged here, if any of this was real.

Was I just fooling myself? I didn’t know what I was doing.

The students around me began to settle into their seats, opening their notebooks, already familiar with the routine. They were all at ease here. But not me. I could feel it—the difference.

I wasn’t one of them.

And maybe I never would be.

The lecture dragged on, the professor's voice blending into a background hum. I barely registered the words as they bounced off me. My mind kept wandering, skimming over the notes in my book that didn’t seem to make any more sense than the jargon coming from the front.

I wasn't the only one feeling out of place, but it sure felt like it. Here, it was all cold logic, high expectations, and faces that didn’t quite resemble mine. The students around me seemed absorbed, scribbling down every word. Everyone looked like they belonged—like they’d been here forever, like they knew what was going on. I felt the weight of being the outsider, even as I tried to blend in.

When I first entered the university campus, it had been overwhelming. The wide, shiny buildings, the clean streets, and the bustle of students. Everything here seemed more refined, more... 'proper'. So unlike Wuye, where the air always felt thick with heat and voices. It was a far cry from the rough, gritty edges of home. The sun hung above, bright and unrelenting, and I couldn't help but notice how I didn’t feel anything—no discomfort, no burning. My body was still the same as it had always been.

But the hunger—that gnawing sensation in my chest—was something new. It wasn’t physical, not like the hunger I felt when I was starving for food. No, this felt different. Like something deep inside me had woken up and was pushing at the seams, trying to claw its way out. The blood pulsed in my veins, but not in the way it used to. It wasn’t painful, not yet, but it was there—a subtle, familiar ache.

I felt it now, as I glanced around the room. There was a girl sitting a few rows ahead, her long brown hair falling over her shoulder as she took notes. She was striking, but it wasn’t just that. There was something about her—something that tugged at me, pulling my attention like a magnet. Her presence set my nerves on edge, making the hunger sharpen just a little more.

I quickly looked away, forcing myself to focus on the professor. My hands were shaking slightly. It was nothing obvious, but I felt it. The beast inside me stirring, waking. I’d never had this much control before, and I wasn’t about to lose it now.

“Pay attention,” I told myself under my breath, gripping the desk a little harder. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the girl or her gaze, but it felt like an invitation to let something in me slip. It was all I could do to stay grounded, to remember who I was.

The rest of the class dragged on, and the hunger didn’t fade. It lingered, scratching at my skin, making everything feel sharp, hyper-aware. I couldn’t stop it. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. The sound was like a sigh of relief—except it didn’t make the hunger go away. It only made it more insistent. I stood, my body moving without my full consent. There was a gnawing emptiness, like something in my body was calling out, craving something I couldn't have.

I stepped into the hallway, trying to get some space. The air was cooler outside the classroom, but that didn’t stop my pulse from racing. I could hear the thudding of my heartbeat in my ears as I walked past groups of students, each one in their own world, each one seemingly unaffected.

I didn’t belong here. Not just because I was black—though that made me stand out enough—but because of what I was, what I felt. There was something wrong with me.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t ignore the truth: I was different. And the hunger, the temptation, would never go away. Not unless I faced it. Not unless I dealt with it.

As I walked out of the building and into the courtyard, I could feel the weight of the scholarship in my pocket, the promise of a future that didn’t belong to someone like me. My hand gripped the strap of my bag, fingers digging into the leather. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this, ready for all the new things pushing at me from every side. But I had no choice but to keep moving forward.

I had to stay in control. I had to stay in control.

As I walked out of the building and into the courtyard, I could feel the weight of the scholarship in my pocket, the promise of a future that didn’t belong to someone like me. My hand gripped the strap of my bag, fingers digging into the leather. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this, ready for all the new things pushing at me from every side. But I had no choice but to keep moving forward.

I had to stay in control. I had to stay in control.