Rachel's apartment looked expensive — rented furniture, imitation art, and a gold-colored lamp that barely worked. She didn't care if it lasted. As long as it looked good.
Tyson sat on the couch, flipping through a glossy magazine left out for show. He didn't care for the fake luxury — but he liked what it bought them.
"Hey, sis," he said, pulling something from his pocket. "Look at this necklace."
Rachel raised an eyebrow from the couch. Her silk robe slipped off one shoulder.
"Where'd you get that?"
Tyson shrugged, smirking. "Seria's room. Probably worth something."
Rachel picked it up, held it to her neck, and looked at her reflection in the dark TV screen. "It suits me, doesn't it?"
"Looks like Mom's," Tyson muttered.
Rachel turned. "Come on, don't be boring." She pouted. "You used to say I had her smile," Rachel murmured... holding the necklace up again. "Guess I grew into it."
Tyson gave her a look. Not amused.
"You drunk again?"
"A little," she said, standing. Her steps were slow, lazy. She pressed her chest against his back, voice low. "You know, if you weren't my brother…"
Tyson stepped away with a scoff, but not angry. More amused. More in control.
"Too bad I am," he said, grabbing the necklace again. "Don't mix business with your weird fantasies."
Rachel just laughed softly, sinking back onto the couch.
"You're no fun."
Tyson walked to the door, then paused. "Lucien's insurance hits next month. If you screw this up, you get nothing."
Rachel didn't answer. She stared at the necklace in her hand. Cold metal. Fake warmth.
"He still trusts me, you know," she whispered. "Even after everything."
***
Monday came faster than anyone wanted.
Lucien stayed home. He said he needed to handle paperwork. Really, he couldn't face the stares yet.
The house felt too big without his parents. Too quiet. And now, Seria was barely in it.
She'd left early that morning, saying Tyson had offered to drive her to school. She didn't say goodbye. Just a quick, "I'll be back later," while tying her shoes.
Lucien didn't ask questions then. Grief made people act strange. He told himself she just needed space.
But that night, she didn't come home.
Not until nearly midnight.
Lucien had waited in the living room, lights off. He didn't even realize how long he'd been staring at the dark fireplace until he heard the front door creak open.
Seria walked in, quietly. Like a guest. Not a resident.
Lucien stood.
"You were with Tyson again?"
She paused, surprised to see him still awake. "Yeah. I didn't think you'd wait up."
"You didn't answer my messages."
"Phone died."
Lucien studied her face. She looked fine. Calm. No makeup smeared. No tears. Just… tired. Or maybe something colder.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Just… let me know next time."
"Right." She moved past him toward the stairs. "Good night."
"Night," he replied, softer.
She didn't look back.
***
Next day, Lucien had no more excuses.
The school gates looked the same. The people didn't.
Eyes followed him the moment he stepped onto the courtyard. Whispers bloomed behind hands. Heads turned, then quickly turned away when he looked up.
His steps felt heavier than usual. He hadn't slept much.
When he reached his classroom, Rachel was already waiting at the door.
"Lucien!" she called, rushing over with a warm smile — a little too bright.
She hugged him without hesitation. "You came," she said gently. "I was starting to think you'd vanish for the whole week."
Lucien gave a small shrug. "Didn't feel like hiding anymore."
She pulled back, cupping his cheek with both hands like she'd done dozens of times before. But today, the gesture felt… softer. Practiced.
"You're stronger than you think," she whispered.
Lucien nodded. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe her.
Her thumb brushed under his eye. "You look tired. You should've called me. I would've stayed with you."
"I know." He paused. "Thanks."
She smiled again, sweet and steady. "I brought your notes from last week. I made sure the teachers didn't mark you absent."
Lucien's chest tightened — not in grief, but in something else. A mix of gratitude and guilt. She was always there. Always helping. Always saying the right thing.
She cares.
Right?
He forced a small smile, just for her.
"I'm glad you're here," he said quietly.
Rachel's eyes softened, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead briefly against his.
"You have me," she said. "You'll always have me."
Lucien closed his eyes for a second and let himself believe that.
The bell hadn't rung yet. Students milled around the classroom, chatting, laughing, slouching in their chairs. The usual chaos before morning assembly.
Lucien sat by the window, head resting on his hand. Outside, the sky was dull and gray again. Everything still looked too normal for a world that had lost his parents.
Rachel sat beside him, flipping through her notebook. She glanced his way now and then, offering small smiles. He gave her one back, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Near the back of the class, a group of boys snickered louder than the rest.
Delinquents. Always loud, always stupid.
One of them — a tall one with dyed red hair — leaned over to his friend and stage-whispered just loud enough to be heard.
"Hey, you think Lucien's parents crashed because they couldn't stand his emo ass anymore?"
Laughter broke out. One boy tried to shush him, but another added, "Must've been peaceful, though. I mean, who wants to come home to that?"
Lucien froze.
The blood in his ears roared louder than the classroom.
Rachel reached for his hand. "Lucien. Ignore them."
He didn't.
He stood up slowly, the chair scraping back hard against the floor. The laughter died quickly.
Lucien turned to face them. His black eyes were like ice — cold, unreadable.
The red-haired one faltered.
"What? Can't take a joke, rich boy?"
Lucien didn't answer.
He moved toward them. Step by step.
But every inch of him was trembling with fury.
Rachel stood too. "Lucien, don't—"
Too late.
He raised a fist.
Then—
A light.
A blinding, white-hot light exploded at the center of the classroom. It swallowed the desks, the windows, the walls. The air cracked like thunder. Wind tore through the room.
Someone screamed.
Lucien shielded his eyes. Rachel's hand clutched his arm.
The classroom vanished.
White. Endless white.
Lucien staggered. The floor wasn't solid — just endless light beneath him.
All around him, classmates blinked, coughed, swore. The delinquents who had mocked him earlier now lay wide-eyed on the ground.
"What… where the hell are we?" someone muttered.
Lucien stood upright slowly, scanning the space. There were no walls, no corners — just open white in all directions.
Then a voice.
Not human. Not machine. It sounded like a thousand bells chiming at once — soft, warm, and somehow terrifying.
"Welcome, chosen ones."
A ripple went through the group. Several people backed away from nothing in particular.
"You have been summoned. Soon, you will be transported to a world far beyond your own — a land where magic thrives, and danger walks in every shadow."
Lucien's thoughts were still scattered. He couldn't feel the floor. He couldn't see the sky. Only white.
Then, all at once:
"Each of you has a soul. That soul determines your strength, your potential, your fate."
Screens flashed into existence — glass-like light panels floating in the air in front of each person.
One appeared before Lucien,
[Lucien Veylor]
[Soul Condition: Fragile (Grade F-)]
[Fragment Storage: 0]
[Core Traits: Severely Suppressed]
[*Warning: Soul Lock detected. Conditions unknown.*]
A chill ran through him.
F… minus?
All around him, students reacted to their own rankings. Some cursed. Others celebrated.
"I got B+!"
"D?! Seriously?!"
"Wait — mine says C… is that bad?"
"In the world you will enter," the voice continued, "you may strengthen your soul by collecting Soul Fragments — remnants of defeated enemies. These fragments will unlock new powers. Abilities. Evolution."
Lucien barely heard the rest — too busy wondering how broken he truly was.
Was it grief? Pain? Or… something deeper?
A hand brushed his arm. Rachel.
"Lucien? What does yours say?"
He blinked. Closed the screen quickly. "Nothing good," he muttered.
But she wasn't even looking. She was searching the crowd. "Where's Tyson?"
Lucien turned as well, heart lurching. "Seria!"
Pushing through the crowd, they spotted them — near the edge of the glowing space.
Seria was curled in on herself, shaking. Tyson stood beside her, one arm around her, whispering something.
Lucien rushed over. "Seria!" he called.
She looked up, startled. Tyson didn't move.
"I'm here," Lucien said. "Are you okay?"
She looked at Tyson first. Then, after a pause, gave Lucien a small nod.
Rachel ran past him and grabbed Tyson's arm tightly.
"Thank god," she said under her breath.
Lucien forced a smile. Relief swept through him. They were okay.
That's all that mattered. Right?
"Prepare yourselves."
The angelic voice returned — stronger, no longer warm.
"Your journey begins now. In ten seconds, you will be transported."
A few students screamed. Others stood frozen.
Those who adapt shall survive. Those who hesitate… shall be consumed.
Lucien reached out and took Seria's hand. "Stay with me," he said. "We'll be alright."
She didn't squeeze back. It stung more than he'd expected.
Rachel was already holding Tyson.
The light grew stronger. The countdown began.
Ten. Nine. Eight…