With closed eyes, he imagined a still image.
A pitch-black alley shrouding a gory amalgam of a broken corpse.
Opening his eyes revealed the misty Soul Realm.
The vast plain of mud and enveloping mist remained.
Yet, Jett felt as though he could see a bit farther now.
Looking up, his sky, his canvas, was filled with color.
Thick globs of black. Specks of red and blue.
He didn't know what it meant, but Jett's Soul had expanded.
The shatter remained.
The sheet of reflective steel also remained.
When Jett stared into its depths, he was left with nothing.
He still could not see his reflection.
…
Jett wanted to reflect. Why couldn't he see himself?
With a fleeting thought, the world transformed into a familiar sight.
It was Shacktown, just as he remembered it.
He walked the streets of the filthy mud. It clung to his bare skin.
The stench, the fear, it all latched onto him in an instant.
With another thought, he made it disappear.
He remembered the first day of his new life.
The day he became a man.
He remembered his thoughts that day.
Jett remembered the anger, the hatred, the enmity.
Retribution. Revenge. Payback. The rights of man.
When he witnessed the luxuries of Strata…
When he saw others live as men, while he was condemned to the life of an animal…
He wanted to tear everything down.
But that was a time when the small boy from Shacktown had a hold over his mind.
The logical, new man in him pacified the older boy. The boy who knew nothing but survival and instinct.
After all, they couldn't possibly go against all of Strata, could they?
'We need to understand the systems keeping Shacktown shackled,' the new man had said.
'So? Do we know now?' the old boy said, demanding answers.
The new man pondered.
'Will we be able to repay them for everything they've done to us?' the old boy said.
The new man pondered.
'I can't…' the new man sputtered. 'I can't say.'
'Remember what they did to us. The innocent are complacent,' the old boy said.
'The innocent are powerless in the matter,' the new man rebutted.
'You wanted to thrive, right?'
'Yes.'
'You will kill those at the top, right?'
'Yes.'
'Those at the bottom, they feed the powerful, right?'
'They do.'
'Then they are part of the systems that ruined us.'
The new man pondered.
'They will be caught in the crossfire regardless,' the old boy argued. 'Revenge is our right! The right that we reclaimed. If we are to be man, how can we overlook this?'
The new man pondered.
Shame. The superego of the new man.
He was ashamed of his answer.
***
It was the end of the weekend.
Jett stared into the white ceiling of his dorm room.
Then he shot up.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…
His heart pounded as he huffed rapid breaths.
'I need… to stop… with the… Soul Realm…'
With a click of the lock, his roommate Niko entered to see Jett in an alarmed state.
"Are you okay?" Niko asked as he began to set his stuff down. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?
"No. I'm good. Just troubled is all."
Niko moved on with his life, sitting at his desk to do some school work.
Jett flopped back onto his bed, wiping the sweat from his head.
Quite frankly, he was lost.
It was the self-doubt. It weaseled its way inside, crawling around his head.
This mission had been much more daunting than he had anticipated.
But he had to keep going. He couldn't rely on anyone else but himself.
There was one more student on his list.
He had all but confirmed that Sarah, Irina, and Niko were not the spies.
As for Raphael…
Jett's mind preached Raphael's guilt like a choir.
Yet doubt and logic held the reigns. He still had zero proof.
Ensuring Alfonse's detachment from future conflict was a step in the right direction, not just for his mission, but also for Maros'.
But that's all it was: a step.
He needed a leap to reach Raphael's high horse.
Each week put him further and further out of Jett's grasp.
Jett needed to be active in his pursuit of Raphael.
"Hey, Jordi," Niko talked as he wrote intensely. "You seen Sarah recently?"
Jett looked over with his eyes, intrigued by his roommate's query.
"No. Why?"
"I've heard some rumors…"
"Like?"
"Uh, some malicious ones. Most are tame, but they all say she's gone missing," Niko explained.
"That's odd…"
The last time Jett saw Sarah was during class, though that was two days ago.
'She went missing in the past two days and there are already rumors spreading?'
"You really haven't seen her as of late?" Niko asked.
"Nope."
"Weird."
"I wouldn't worry too much, it could be any number of things," Jett reassured. "I'll go see if I can find Irina tomorrow."
He needed something concrete, but it was undeniable that something was awry.
But he couldn't help but feel suspected of her disappearance.
***
The next morning Jett went to his homeroom class as usual.
Irina and Sarah were noticeably absent, yet no one openly questioned it.
After all, a Viscount daughter such as Sarah could pull any number of strings to get approved leave.
Irina was a Baron, but she was also quite unpopular. Her absence was of little importance to the other academy students.
Jett tuned out the unimportant lesson, however, he ensured that his demeanor appeared antithetical to that fact.
Eventually, the bell sounded, the class cleared, and Professor Ruben sat at his desk.
"Can I help you, Mister Reichel?" Professor Ruben said with a bored voice, his attention focused on his desk filled with papers.
"I was wondering," Jett picked up his satchel, walking down the aisle to Ruben's desk. "If you had any idea regarding the absence of students Sarah Poirier and Irina Yurov."
Ruben put his pen down, slowly looking up at the deadpan boy's face.
"I do."
Jett stared intimidatingly at the elderly professor, who seemed quite determined to oppose his insubordinate student.
"I'm sorry Mister Reichel. I'm under specific orders to stay silent."
"What'll it take?" Jett bargained.
"Like I already said, I cannot—"
"A week's worth of grading?"
Ruben sighed. "No, Mister Reichel. All I'll say is that you'd be better off talking to the Storm Wardens, it's out of the school's hands."
'Interesting. And convenient.'
"Now go. You're late," Ruben shooed.
Jett removed his hands from the desk, leaving the class as he silently thought to himself.
'I'll sneak out tonight and see what Maros knows, but it can't possibly be good.'
Ruben had insinuated some form of criminal action being involved.
Jett's thoughts were much more polarizing.
'Kidnap? Murder? Is this an act of sabotage?'
If the spy was involved, what gain would they get from killing these two students in particular?
Sarah would be a valuable resource to the spy. Irina was likely caught in the crossfire.
'Sowing the seeds of disorder from within the academy? But then the spy would fan the flames of rumor rather than stand idle like this.'
Rumors about Sarah and Irina had been kept to a minimum, likely due to the work of the Academy and Storm Wardens.
However, that shouldn't have stopped the spy from spreading them, should chaos be their aim.
This kind of thing doesn't just happen. Not without internal collusion.
Raphael and Alfonse? Maybe Alfonse had lied to Jett about his involvement?
Jett's instincts told him that this wasn't it, it just seemed too unlikely to be the case.
No, Jett's instincts told him that this was a cold-blooded murder. Spy involvement was total conjecture.
…
He kept walking through the hallway, towards the door that led outside and to his combat class.
This was where he had first talked to Sarah.
She had waited for him to leave the class, before pestering him with questions.
It was an odd feeling to Jett.
Reminiscing over good times, even if those good times were only a week.
In that fashion, he understood he was being a bit melodramatic.
But really, Jett had never had good things to look back at, or even look forward to.
All of these sensations were still fresh, as much as he wanted to remain in his old life and disconnect himself from reality.
It was familiar. Desiring the familiar was human nature. He liked that.
But the air in the hallway was different.
It was colder. Unfamiliar. Offputting.
It wasn't how Jett remembered it.
Much like how he remembered this hallway, in particular, there were two pairs of footsteps.
His own, and then another.
In the past that was Sarah.
Now, it belonged to an unfamiliar man.
Jett turned his head, looking over his shoulder and out of his periphery as he walked.
It was a tall, platinum-haired boy, who donned a sweetly sickening smile.
Raphael Mathurin.
He followed far behind, walking at a smooth pace, his hands behind his back as he appeared to soak in the sights with glee.
Jett turned around, a slight tingle at the back of his neck.
An instinctual cry. Fear of the unknown and unfamiliar.
"Being late is unbecoming of a class representative," Jett joked with a curt smile, then transitioning to a stony face that maintained a serious undertone.
Raphael laughed as he approached.
"Ah, Alfonse has always had a soft spot for me, it'll be no issue," Raphael smiled. "But it's nice to finally meet you, Jordi Reichel. A real shame we don't get to interact more often in class."
"Likewise. But our differing statuses, wouldn't it be odd for someone of your stature to interact with me?"
"Oh come on," Raphael dismissed with his hand. "We're all one under the Academy's banner. Strata's banner as well. With war imminent, total unity is of the utmost importance."
'Bullshit.'
They now stood face to face in the cold and desolate hallway.
Jett's eyes did all the talking.
It was a tacit accosting. Jett made his disbelief in Raphael's lies clear.
"You like your facade this much?" Jett chuckled as he confronted the white-haired boy in a sideways manner.
Raphael's smile faltered for the briefest moment, before returning in an instant.
"Weird comment, but you seem like a weird fellow anyway. Weird but fun, in a roundabout way. I like that."
"Is that so?" Jett began to walk down the hallway, Raphael following by his side.
"Kind of reminds me of Sarah Poirier," Raphael slyly stated. "She's a friend of yours, right? Funny in that same weird way, isn't she?"
The two conversing chuckled, though neither were genuine.
'Bastard.'
They stepped out of the hallway and into the cold outdoors
"I guess so," Jett changed the subject. "Gonna help your sister fight the Divine Crusaders soon?"
A timid look washed over Raphael's face at the mention of his sister.
He sighed. "I will, and I will be of great use to her. Though she may want me more on the administrative side."
"You want to be closer to your sister?" Jett prodded.
"Enough," Raphael sternly shut down.
'A sore spot. Perfect.'
"…What about you, hmm? You'll be a Storm Warden, I presume?" he switched the subject.
"Yeah," Jett replied. "How'd you know?"
"Must have been word of mouth."
Jett laughed internally.
'That's exactly what Alfonse said. Very odd.'
They eventually reached the outdoor combat class late, where the students had begun to disperse throughout the sparring mats.
It was an awkward and silent walk, the pair both weary and on guard after a weird exchange of words.
"What do you think of me, Jordi?"
Raphael's voice was cold and out of place, his smile disappeared as his demeanor flipped.
Jett was taken aback at the odd question.
'What's he planning? Is this a trick?'
"Do I have to answer?" Jett replied.
"No… no that's enough."
Raphael turned back into his usual self, picking up his pace and branching off from Jett to talk to Instructor Alfonse.
Jett stopped and shivered.
'What the fuck was that?'
While his smile was lost on Jett, it seemed infectious to others.
The unwavering kindness of Raphael couldn't pierce Jett's exterior.
Their conversation told Jett everything he needed to know.
Raphael was guilty.