Chapter: 6 [Despair] [3]
I was rendered motionless. My heart, a frantic bird trapped in a ribcage of glass, beat faster and faster until the rhythm was a blur I could no longer track. My blood was boiling—not just with the metaphorical heat of anger, but with a physical, surging temperature that made my skin itch. I felt shocked and enraged at the same time, two conflicting tides crashing in my skull.
On Earth, I wasn't a "Young Master" in the literal sense, but I was the product of a soft world. I was spoiled, pampered by parents who smoothed over every wrinkled edge of my life. Because of that, a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh bubbled in my throat. I remembered, with a sharp pang of irony, that I wasn't at home. I wasn't in a suburban dining room where a tantrum resulted in a slammed door and a cold shoulder. I was in a den of predators, surrounded by strangers who possessed the power to unmake me with a thought, and I was totally, utterly at their mercy.
"Then I can only... extend that two years of financial suspension to four years," Matrix said, his voice as cool as the marble floor. "Or... you can simply solve this matter yourself. Stand up, walk over to Aaron, and apologize for the pathetic mess you created at the Academy."
The suggestion hung in the air like a poisonous fog. I felt the undeniable, suicidal surge to open my mouth and curse him. He was my uncle—Ascera's own blood—yet he stood there with a straight face and told me to bow my head to a commoner just because that commoner had the "Main Character" seal of approval.
I knew I wasn't completely in the clear. I knew the "Old Ascera" was a piece of work. But how dare he? How dare he think he could puppet me, strip my dignity, and discard my pride just because I hadn't been able to defeat Aaron Hein?
I had never apologized to anyone in my entire twenty years of life on Earth. Not once. Whenever I messed up, my parents' checkbook or their influence acted as my shield. Now, stripped of that shield and told to bow when I wasn't even the primary aggressor, I felt a crushing wave of loneliness. I was scared, I was angry, and I was drowning in emotions I didn't have names for.
I felt Despair.
Time didn't just slow down; it curdled. The world became a series of high-definition still frames. I saw a drop of condensation sliding down my uncle's water glass. I saw the way the light from the chandelier caught the gold embroidery on Sasa's dress. I glanced around the table and saw their faces—normal, calm, bored. To them, my humiliation was a mundane Tuesday morning activity.
A strange, sharp pain flared in my chest. It wasn't the mana core; it was something older. It was a fear that gripped my entire body, turning my muscles to lead. I was on the absolute verge of tears, the salt stinging the back of my eyes. And then, the Earth-born ego snapped. I did what I should have... or shouldn't have. I honestly didn't know anymore.
I stood up so abruptly the heavy chair screeched against the marble like a dying animal. With a violent sweep of my arm, I threw away my plate. The silver fork and knife clattered on the ground with a discordant ring, and the porcelain bowl crashed against the floor, shattering into a thousand white shards. Herb-crusted omelette and mana-butter spilled across the pristine black carpet, a yellow stain on their perfect world.
I didn't care. I didn't care about the carpet, the house, or the consequences. I stared at them, seeing their faces shift from boredom to startled confusion, and then to a dark, brewing anger.
"Shut the FUCK UP," I screamed, the vibration tearing at my throat. "You Mother FUCKING PIG of a man!"
The silence that followed was absolute. It wasn't a natural silence; it was a vacuum, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the room. The atmosphere became suffocatingly tense, heavy with the weight of the [A] and [S] rankers' shock. Some were horrified, their mouths hanging open; some were instantly consumed by a cold, murderous rage. But overall, my words had caused enough of a ruckus to turn every ounce of the family's lethal attention directly onto me.
I watched them, my chest heaving, my vision blurring at the edges. I saw their wide eyes and baffled expressions, and I felt a sick sense of triumph. I wasn't done.
"Who the HELL do you think you are?" I roared, pointing a trembling finger at Matrix. "You think you can just do whatever you want jus—"
SLAP.
The sound was like a gunshot in a small room.
Before I could even register the movement—Matrix hadn't even seemed to stand—a hand connected with the right side of my face. The force wasn't human. It was [A+] rank kinetic energy, focused into a single, brutal palm strike. I felt the skin on my cheek peel away instantly, a hot, wet mess of blood spraying into the air. My own teeth were driven through the inside of my cheek, the jagged bone-white shards piercing through to the outside.
My head turned at an unnatural, sickening degree. My neck made a sound like dry branches snapping. I was flung away from the table before my brain could even process the sensation of pain.
CRACKKKK.
My mind went white. Everything shifted back into slow motion, yet I was a passenger in my own catastrophe. I couldn't move my arms to protect myself; I couldn't even close my eyes. My head was spinning in a dizzying loop of ceiling-floor-ceiling.
With a sound of thunderous destruction, my body slammed into the massive glass wall of the dining room. The reinforced, mana-tempered glass held for a microsecond before it disintegrated into millions of diamond-like fragments. I broke through the barrier, my body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll. I hit the stone patio, bounced once, and finally came to a stop in the damp grass of the garden, rolling until I hit the base of a decorative fountain.
The pain didn't hit all at once; it came in waves. First, the burning of my cheek. Then, the stinging of a thousand glass shards that had pierced my skin, creating a map of bloody scars across my arms and chest. My head was spinning so violently I thought I might vomit blood. My eyes were red, hot tears finally breaking free and streaking through the grime on my face.
I was sobbing. It was a pathetic, low sound. I tried to stop, to show some semblance of "villainous" dignity, but my body wouldn't listen. It was shivering, a primal, neurological response to a trauma it wasn't built to handle. Not just the physical agony, but the mental realization that I was nothing. I was a bug that had just been swatted.
After what felt like hours—though it was likely only seconds—the world stopped tilting. I forced my broken body to move. I gripped the edge of the stone fountain, my fingers slipping in my own blood, and dragged myself upward. I stood on shaking legs, wiping the tears and the gore from my eyes with a trembling hand. I tried to look fine. I tried to look like I was in control. But the shivering was a betrayal.
I looked back through the jagged hole in the manor wall.
Matrix was standing there, his hand still raised, his lite-green eyes glowing with a cold, predatory light. He was being held back by my grandfather, Jack Leafs, who looked at me not with pity, but with a terrifying mix of anger and disbelief.
I knew I had crossed the rubicon. There was no going back to the "spoiled young master" life now. I had insulted the head of the house in front of the "Main Character."
I stared back at them, my vision swimming. I saw Sasa covering Ray's eyes, shielding the child from the sight of the bloody mess I had become. I saw Jasmine—my sister. She was watching with a slight, cruel curl of her lips, but her eyes weren't happy. They were filled with a boiling, deep-seated hatred that seemed to vibrate in the air. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white.
Rosy and Aaron stood together, their faces a mask of unease and disbelief. Rosy's hand was on Jasmine's shoulder, an instinctive gesture of support. I looked at the "Protagonists" standing amidst the ruins of the breakfast I had destroyed, and a jagged, broken laugh escaped my lips.
"Hahaahahahh...." I coughed, the movement making the wound in my cheek scream. "I... enjoy your m... meal... Haha... haaa..."
I spat a mouthful of blood onto the grass, the red stark against the green.
"I'll... Fucking come back... d... definitely..."
My breath was labored, every lungful of air feeling like I was inhaling hot coals. My heart was broken, my body was shattered, but for the second time since arriving in this world, I felt a spark of something that wasn't fear. It was the thrill of the condemned. I knew this wasn't going to end like the "first time" in the hospital. I had changed the script, but I had done it with a sledgehammer.
'Haha... I'm really out of my mind,' I thought as I turned my back on them and began to limp toward the edge of the estate. 'But it felt extremely good... Really GOOD... I just hope I won't regret this later.'
And guess what? I did. I regretted it with every fiber of my being.
As the adrenaline began to fade and the reality of being a penniless, [H+] ranker with a hole in his face and no home set in, I realized I hadn't just insulted my uncle. I had forfeited my safety. I had stepped out into a world of monsters with a "Kill Me" sign taped to my back.
That was when I felt it. Not the shallow fear of a slap, but the true, soul-eating vacuum of Despair.