His explanation and analogy might be clear and precise, but I still had a lot of questions, because the topic itself was far too vast for the questions to end so early.
But unfortunately, at that time, I couldn't think of anything other than, 'So, how expensive is that quill?'. Of course, I didn't ask that out loud, worried about my image in front of my 'benevolent teacher', and so I nodded my head.
Suddenly, as he was about to begin the engraving process, one question propped up in my mind,
"Um, would it hurt?"
"Good, I can begin 'engraving' totems then. Come, sit here." Smilingly, he conveniently ignored my question and responded.
After which, hoisting his quill in the air, he pointed at a short stool beside him. The pointed tip of his quill scared me for a moment but knowing that it was perhaps the only chance I had to awaken my strength, I swallowed that fear in and sat on the stool he was pointing at.
Uncle Albert still looked as nonchalant as ever as he saw me fighting my panic. As I was looking at him, the Mayor crouched in front of me with the quill.
The quill was now in front of me. It had a golden metallic luster that captivated my eyes when I took a closer look. Attached to it was a red and white feather that didn't seem to be affected by the wind and the movements of his body.
Seeing me fascinated by his quill, the Mayor gave me a slight smile that reflected the pride that he was making no attempts to hide and said,
"Well, now that we're onto the crucial engraving process, you need to pay attention to me and not make any wild movements. Bear with the pain, otherwise, I can't guarantee the stability of the circuit." This worked to answer my previous question and motivated me to bear with the pain the magical quill was about to inflict on me.
I gave him a stiff smile and nodded. I wanted to close my eyes but when I did, it only exacerbated the anxiety I was trying to suppress.
When I opened my eyes, the exquisite quill was in front of me. My body shivered and I closed my eyes again, but I didn't move from my place, keeping the Mayor's words to my heart.
A long few moments later, I felt a stinging pain in the middle of my forehead. His quill had finally touched me, and it gave me a sensation that I still remember quite clearly.
The sting that I had felt was temporary. The real pain only began after that. It felt as if a malleable steel rod was being forced into my blood from between my eyes.
My eyes, ears, nose, throat, and cheeks began to hurt first, and I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. I was paralyzed from my waist up, but the pain was clear.
This was a question I had forgotten to ask, partly because I was embarrassed and partly because I was afraid to know the answer.
Which part of my body was supposed to be engraved? The answer was… my forehead.
Did I have to remove my clothes? No, there wasn't any need for me to do so… because my head was going to be sculpted.
Actually, I later came to know that this was because the front part of the head is the 'eye' or the center of the consciousness, where the 'spirit' lies dormant, and to make changes to the essence, the circuit needs to be placed near the spirit.
There was an inexplicable connection between the two that I only came to know much later in my journey but as of then, I was unaware, and I was in grueling pain.
Each second of the process was pure torture. Every time the quill touched my skin, it was followed by a split second of stinging pain, and then the excruciating feeling of liquid metal being made to course forcibly through my bloodstream.
Strangely, there was no sweat on my body for some reason, not like I had any time or energy in my body to care about it at that time.
Finally, when every part of my forehead was touched at least once, and the middle of it was touched more than ten times, the suffering was over.
I had my eyes closed all that time. I neither had the strength nor the courage to open them. Even when it was over, I was terrified and drained.
I don't remember how long I had my eyes closed but only when I heard my torturer-ahem teacher speak, "It's done, open your eyes slowly."
When I heard those words, my fear began to dissipate, but I still wasn't able to open my eyes. It was just too monumental of a task to my weak self.
A minute or so passed like that when I felt a hand gently holding my face and opening my mouth. Then, with my lips, I felt the touch of a glass container and a few drops of an unknown sweet liquid flowed down my throat. Accompanying it all was a pleasant aroma that I was only too familiar with.
Soon, my drained body began to fill up with energy. Opening my eyes was still difficult. It was as if my blood vessels were rebelling against me, but I was able to open them a sliver.
In front of me was Uncle Albert, holding the same glass bottle with pinkish liquid in it that I had seen him holding four days before. Almost a fourth of it was empty, and I knew where it went.
That was perhaps a potion to revitalize the 'essence' that my father talked about and it was certainly very very expensive. How could I, someone who could barely afford a chocolate cake with my allowance, even dare to ask him for its price?
Even then, I realized that I was grossly underestimating its worth when I heard Uncle Albert say, "With this, your artificial essence circuit should have stabilized. You can now infuse vampire blood into it, but I suggest you wait for another 3 to 5 years before doing that."
With that, he had already spoken a week's worth of words, and he wasn't going to speak anymore. Still, I clasped my hands and gave him a deep bow while thanking him for his kindness.
Only then did I see my 'teacher' eyeing him with a complex look in his eyes.
He had already taken the quill back in his robe and was standing near the entrance of the pawnshop.
When he sensed my gaze land on him, he nodded his head approvingly and praised, "You did a good job of keeping quiet and still. Don't infuse blood of any lesser quality than a vampire aristocrat if you want to help that little friend of yours."
I gave him another deep bow while clasping my hand. When I looked up again, he was gone.
Taking a quick look at the shop again, I realized that nothing seemed to have changed. Uncle Albert was back in his usual place, with the same indifferent expression, and neglecting me as usual.
I stood still like that for a few minutes with a blank gaze, not knowing how I would ever be able to repay that debt. I could only swear to myself that I would try my best in the future since that was the best I could do and left the shop thereafter.
Perhaps it was my imagination working wonders after that torturous 'awakening', but I seemed to have heard Uncle Albert whisper, "Good luck" in my ears when I left the shop.