Dominic clenched his teeth and looked at the boy properly. The clothes were the first thing he noticed. It was made of fine fabric, clean lines, and subtle symbols woven into the seams.
His clothes were expensive and excessive. The kind of luxury Dominic had only ever seen from a distance.
He was a noble. The kind of people he had hoped not to meet so soon.
They were kids born with silver spoons already pressed to their lips. Never worried about meals or shelter and never worked for coins, who could summon servants for the smallest inconvenience.
These boys were the kind of kid who had never needed to understand how heavy work could break a person down.
And one of him was here, sitting in the same wagon with him.
Dominic sighed slowly. His luck really was that bad.
The noble boy stepped fully inside and glanced around the wagon. His nose wrinkled immediately. His gaze swept over the benches, the blankets, and wooden floor. For sometime his attention wasn't directed on Dominic.
"This place is disgusting," he said flatly. "Do they really expect people to sit in this?"
He nudged one of the folded blankets with the tip of his boot, as if afraid it might stain him. "Ugh. This fabric is awful. It makes me itchy just looking at it."
He glanced at the benches again and scowled. "I only see cheap bedding, rough wood, no cushioning worth mentioning. How long am I supposed to endure this?!"
The boy clicked his tongue in annoyance and crossed his arms. "I already hate it here."
The boy let out an exaggerated sigh and tossed his head back.
"If my father weren't busy with his trade routes, I wouldn't even be here," he said loudly. "We have our own private caravans. I should be riding in comfort, not squeezed into this miserable thing with commoners like you." He waved a hand dismissively at the wagon. "Straight to Cindervale. No delays."
Dominic turned his gaze away as if the sight of that boy repulsed him.
The boy's voice grated on him, his every word soaked in entitlement that made him eager to use "Blitz".
He chose silence instead, staring at the wooden boards beneath his feet as if the conversation did not exist.
Unfortunately, the noble boy noticed.
He leaned closer, peering at Dominic with open curiosity.
"Hey. You." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you going to Cindervale for?"
Dominic hesitated for a fraction of a second, then answered evenly, "The Crimson Arcanum Academy."
For a heartbeat, the wagon was quiet.
Then the boy burst out laughing.
"Hah!" He slapped his knee, shoulders shaking. "You? The Academy?"
He looked Dominic up and down again, slower this time, his grin sharpening. "That's a good joke. You don't even look like you belong inside the outer gates of that city."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Dominic's face and body.
"You have no crest or proper mark in your body. Let me guess. Is this because the charity admission from the Academy so that the people could think they have the same right to learn?"
He scoffed. "That place is for real bloodlines. Not for people who lived in poor conditions like you."
The boy leaned back against the side of the wagon, arms crossed and smiled with a sneer. "But it looks interesting. I already know how I'll spend my time whenever I'm not studying."
Dominic glanced up at him, meeting the noble's gaze with sharp, steady eyes. He understood it immediately. This boy had already decided something. At the Academy, Dominic would be his target.
That was going to be a problem.
For a fleeting moment, a dangerous thought crossed his mind. He could end it now with one strike. One use of Blitz. Enough to make the boy think twice before opening his mouth again.
But Dominic dismissed it just as quickly.
Starting trouble here would only make things worse. Besides, he didn't know what Bloodmark this boy had. It could be dangerous for him when he acts recklessly.
And the law was merciless to those at the bottom and forgiving to those at the top. A commoner raising a hand against a noble would never end well, no matter the reason. And he couldn't possibly kill a person.
He clenched his jaw and looked away.
Maybe the Academy would be different. Maybe the instructors would keep students like this in check. That was what he told himself.
Yet his doubt lingered. What if it wasn't different at all? What if power and status ruled there too, and the teachers looked the other way when nobles crossed the line and bullied him?
The thought sat heavy in his chest.
Dominic sighed slowly and forced himself to let it go. Worrying about it now would change nothing.
For now, he chose patience. Unless something happened that forced him to cross the line.
Time passed slowly as more passengers climbed into the wagon, one by one, until the space was filled with five youths including Dominic.
That was when he realized his luck had not run out yet.
Two more noble kids entered soon after, their clothes just as fine, their expressions just as sharp with disdain.
The moment they noticed the first boy, they gathered around him naturally, like flies gathered around dung. Laughter followed. Then louder voices.
Their eyes drifted to Dominic.
"So that's him?" one of them said, not bothering to lower his voice. "The one with the broken Bloodmark?"
"I heard about that," another added with a snicker. "Didn't they announce it publicly at the Hall of Veins?"
"Yeah. This boy is a complete failure," the first boy said. "Some people say it's a curse. My father said that the ether itself rejected him."
They laughed together.
"A cursed commoner heading to the Academy," the noble boy said mockingly. "That's almost impressive."
Their words washed over Dominic like grit against skin. He kept his gaze forward, hands resting on his knees, breathing slow and controlled. But inside, something tightened.
Their laugh and insult chipped away at his patient.
The ether inside him stirred faintly, responding to his rising emotion. The sigils on his right hand that were covered with gloves felt warmer than before.
Dominic clenched his fists. His patience was thinning.
—