After eating his meal or rather, devouring it like a starving beast who'd just discovered the concept of a buffet—Sezel sank into his chair.
His crimson gaze, sharp and analytical, fixated on the gleaming coffee machine across the cafeteria. For a full half-hour, he watched, a silent detective studying the strange rituals of this new tribe. They filled their cups with a black, steaming liquid, a substance Arty had once described as one of the most bitter things in existence.
But as he watched, a strange thought took root. This was clearly an important tapestry of life, a rite of passage for these... Uh what do we call them, Civilized people. Right?
He gulped, a wave of social anxiety washing over him, but he pushed it down. He rose, seized a cup from the rack, and filled it with the obsidian liquid,
He sat back down, staring at the cup as if it were a tiny, black abyss. This thing looks disgusting.
Hesitantly, he took a sip. The liquid seared his taste buds, his face twisting into a grimace. So bitter! he cussed under his breath, the words swallowed by the cafeteria's hum.
He looked around at the ones who took the coffee before him, their faces serene as they savored the brew, lips curved in quiet delight as if it was not bitter at all. How do these people drink this poison so casually? Do they not have taste buds?
A soft chuckle broke his thoughts. Across the table, a girl watched him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She stood, her red hair cascading like a molten waterfall down her back, her azure dress shimmering with elegance as she walked to him.
Sezel stared, his cheeks flushing a faint, traitorous red. What does she want? Did she come to laugh at the slum boy who doesn't know how to drink coffee? His heart, that unreliable organ, began to pound a nervous rhythm.
Hey, hey calm down a little. There is no way she came here to compliment your great looks.
"You should add milk and sugar to the coffee," she said, her voice a dulcet chime.
Sezel's lips parted. "Heh," he managed, a clumsy, awkward sound that was probably not in her vocabulary. She looked at him, her head tilted in a gesture of polite confusion.
His mind reeled. He wanted to thank her, to say something, anything, but the language barrier was thick.
After a moment of excruciating silence, he stood and bowed, a gesture of gratitude he'd seen some old man perform. It was the only thing he could think of.
Her smile bloomed, as radiant as a sunrise, and she bowed in return before gliding back to her seat, her dress swaying like a summer tide.
Okay, let's try this.
He pressed the button next to the coffee one, and hot milk poured into his cup, transforming the ebony elixir into a creamy, tawny blend.
It looks... drinkable now. He added two spoons of sugar, mimicking the others, and returned to his seat.
He sipped again. Not bitter, not sweet, but a sublime, otherworldly nectar that danced on his tongue. This is good. So this is how you drink coffee.
He drained the cup, a new energy coursing through him, as if the coffee had washed away not just his tiredness, but a layer of the grime and despair that had clung to him for so long. "Coffee is divine," he whispered, an unforced grin tugging at his lips.
He walked to the cafeteria's door, but paused, his crimson gaze sweeping the room. The redhead was gone. A frown of disappointment flickered across his face before he pushed it down and stepped out into the vast garden.
The sun was dipping below the facility's walls, painting the sky in embers and twilight.
What is this place? The question still lingered like an unanswered echo in the back of his mind.
But he didn't dwell on it. This place, whatever it was, was better than the slums. And if he was a test subject? Well, the food was worth it.
And they not gonna kill me until i give results...or maybe no results? Okay, the second one sounds too much relatable.
Heading toward the classroom building, Sezel spotted Raelion in the garden, conversing with another man in a military matching uniform, the man was taller than the captain and paler in comparison.
Then Sezel saw it, his uniform had two crescent moon like badges, he had noticed earlier that Raelion had one crescent moon badge on his uniform.
What does these badges signify? Sezel wondered, its not like he saw them for the first time here, some slayers in his part of the world also wore those crescent moon badges, but they were rare, and he had realized that it was a big deal and that's why the students in the class looked up to Raelion.
He indeed was a figure to look up to. Their voices were a faint murmur, too distant to discern
Shortly after the man, and the captain shook hands and the taller man left. Raelion turned, sunglasses catching the fading light, and fixed Sezel with a probing gaze. Approaching him he asked, "Had your fill?" voice low but sharp.
Sezel nodded.
"Then follow me," Raelion instructed, striding forward. Sezel quietly followed behind him.
They walked past two more buildings and out of the facility through a large gate. Sezel froze, a mixture of awe and trepidation swirling in his gut, the captain trusted him much to bring him out without any weapons and special guards.
Maybe he knew, Sezel won't run. After all where would the poor boy go in the foreign land.
A city blazed before him, its main road pulsing with vibrant lights, cars weaving like fireflies. Shops glowed in kaleidoscopic splendor, their signs alive with colors of amazement, and people... people were laughing, playing, living.
Children ran carefree without a worry in the world, quiet opposite to what Sezel had endured at their age.
Raelion's hand landed softly on his back. "Let's continue." He guided Sezel to an adjacent walled complex, its multistory buildings soaring twenty floors into the evening sky.
Inside, the corridors shimmered, polished floors reflecting automated lights that banished darkness in an instant.
The captain led him to a door and handed him a key. "Your room."
Sezel's heart surged, joy tempered by disbelief.
And to think he even got his own room in one of these buildings, he was overjoyed. These were the perks of awakening, food, shelter and status, but the last one was an exception in Sezel's case.
Who cares? Not like i want them to look at me and fight for autograph. I don't need to become some noble hero.
He opened the door, and the lights flared to life, illuminating a space that was both austere and luxurious—a bed large enough to get lost in, a clean desk, a window framing the vibrant, glittering city.
He had his own room.
I was dying just a little while ago, he thought, a dizzying sense of vertigo washing over him. And now... now I have a room. Guess I'm moving up in the world.
A dark, humorous thought followed. Now I have a private space to be miserable in. This is clearly a progress.