The evening descended in shades of crimson and gold, the sky bleeding into darkness as the sun dipped below the academy's distant towers. A cool breeze swept through the grounds, carrying the scent of evening flowers and distant rain.
Walking back to his room while humming an upbeat phonk tune that only he knew in this world, Cale was happy—or rather, ecstatic. The yang qi flooding his system felt like an adrenaline rush demanding constant release, a pressure building behind his ribs that wanted nothing more than to explode outward.
He could control it these days, barely.
Like a bottle filling to the brim, one more drop and it would spill over completely. There were options, of course. He could visit Emma, find some brothel at the academy's outskirts, lose himself in physical release.
But somewhere along the way, such things had started feeling empty. Hollow. Unless there was something behind it—or rather a proper reason—it all felt like pretending.
