The office door swung open with a sharp clap, and Arelia Shisui entered as if cutting through the air itself. Her presence silenced the room instantly—so abrupt it felt like she had extinguished every sound, every breath, every stray thought. Duke Dusk lifted his eyes, not startled, but alert. Arelia never moved without purpose.
"Duke Dusk."
Her voice sliced the air with precision.
"Before anything else, a warning."
The duke swallowed. Elara straightened. Arven felt the temperature drop around them.
"Nothing you heard today," Arelia continued, "is to leave this room. Not to your advisors. Not to your family. Not to your guards. Not to the academy's staff. And especially not to those who think their rank gives them the right to pry."
The duke opened his mouth to answer, but Arelia raised a finger—asking for silence without needing to ask.
"Do not underestimate the weight of this. Arven is becoming… visible. And visibility is a curse when you carry something that should not exist."
Her eyes moved to Arven's arm, where the tribal mark pulsed faintly beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
"If that mark is seen by the wrong people," she said, "questions will come. And questions lead to answers none of us want circulating."
Duke Dusk nodded slowly, understanding the gravity.
"Do not worry," Arelia finished. "I will handle matters from here."
Then she turned to Arven, her gaze freezing, dissecting. He held her eyes—an act of quiet defiance. She studied him for several seconds, as though reviewing every mistake he had made since the ritual.
"Let's go."
Arven blinked, looked at Elara, and exhaled.
"I'll see you at the academy," he said with a small, encouraging smile.
Elara nodded back, worry lingering in her eyes.
Arelia was already walking away, not waiting for him to follow.
-+++-+-++++
Outside the mansion
Cold air hit Arven's face as the door shut behind them. Arelia walked ahead, strides sharp and tense. He knew this pace—she used it when holding herself back from exploding.
"I got it, okay?" Arven said, quickening his steps. "I only said what was necessary."
Arelia gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Necessary?"
Her tone was almost mocking.
"Since when do you know what 'necessary' is?"
"You're exaggerating," he muttered.
She stopped.
Abruptly.
As if the ground locked her feet in place.
She turned, looking at him with a firmness that always made Arven feel smaller—not from fear, but from the weight of responsibility.
"You're exposing yourself too much," she said, voice low and sharp.
"Talking to people who shouldn't hear certain things. Showing more than you should. Trusting people you shouldn't trust."
Arven crossed his arms. "I trusted the duke because I had no choice. I needed answers."
"And do you have them now?"
She tilted her head.
"Or did you just gain more questions?"
Arven opened his mouth, then closed it again.
No answer.
Arelia exhaled—finally.
Not irritation.
Concern.
"Arven, look at your arm."
He lifted it.
The mark glowed faintly, the edges warm like embers under the skin.
"That," Arelia said, "will attract attention. It's inevitable. And sooner or later someone will realize you're not just an unlucky Shisui wandering around."
"I know," he murmured.
"No, you don't. Not yet."
Arelia tapped her chest lightly, indicating their clan, their burdens.
"What you carry isn't just yours. It's tied to what's left of our family. To what we tried to bury. To fears we hoped would never resurface."
Arven looked away.
"I didn't ask for this."
"And who did?"
She stepped closer.
"You have this burden. I will protect you. But if you keep exposing yourself like this, you'll force me to do things I don't want to do."
Arven inhaled slowly.
"I didn't do anything that big."
"You did enough to be noticed."
She turned and began walking again.
Arven followed, silent now.
-----+++++----
Along the path
After a few minutes, Arelia spoke again:
"The mid–early semester championship is approaching."
Her tone shifted back to practical firmness.
"All classes participate. All instructors supervise. All evaluators appear."
Arven stiffened.
Being observed was one thing—being evaluated was another.
"I want you to participate," she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You want me to expose myself in a championship… right after lecturing me for exposing myself?"
"With control."
She glanced at him sideways.
"You can appear. You cannot shine. Stay within the top fifty. No higher."
Arven let out a short laugh.
"Fifty? You really think I'm that… average?"
Arelia stared at him as if the answer were obvious.
"Yes."
He made an offended face.
"Wow. Thanks for the motivation."
"I'm not motivating you. I'm keeping you alive."
She sighed.
"If you end up in the top ten or twenty, teachers will look at you closely. Clans will look at you closely. And then… that thing on your arm will start glowing without being called."
Arven looked down at it.
The mark tingled, as if it had understood every word.
"Fine, I get it. No standing out."
"Good."
Arelia finally relaxed a little.
"I'll handle the rest."
-----+++++++------+
The clearing and the sphere
At the end of the trail, the forest opened into a circular clearing.
In the center stood an ancient stone pedestal, holding a translucent sphere that pulsed with soft light—blue, then white, as if breathing.
Arelia stopped in front of it.
"Our transport."
Arven stared at the sphere.
"I've always thought this was unnecessarily dramatic."
"It's safer than crossing the sea back to Zero Island," she replied. "And faster."
He approached the circle drawn on the ground.
"Does it hurt?"
"It didn't hurt last time."
"I was sick for three hours."
"Because you're weak."
"I am not—"
She raised a finger.
"Just step into the circle before I regret complimenting you."
Arven laughed and joined her.
The sphere brightened.
The ground trembled.
Light spiraled upward, wrapping around them.
"Ready?" Arelia asked.
Arven nodded.
The light swallowed them whole.
And the clearing vanished.