"The Eye of the Esper?" I read aloud from the phone in my hand.
The words felt heavy, like they were pulling me into another world. The room was brightly lit by a sleek ceiling light, its white glow reflecting off the polished hardwood floors and smooth, minimalist furniture. Shadows were sharp and clinical, offering no place to hide.
Devin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. He tilted his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "What the heck is discernment?"
I turned to him, annoyance flickering across my face. "You really are dense sometimes, huh? It's the ability to make good decisions and see beyond the physical world."
Devin shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips. "Alright, professor. Then let's test it."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" I asked, leaning back in the sleek high-backed chair.
His grin widened, teasing and confident. "I dunno, but here's something for you: I hate muffins. They make me want to hurl."
The moment the words left his mouth, a faint red aura began to flicker around him. It glowed faintly, casting an unnatural hue against the stark white light in the room.
I stiffened, the energy in the air suddenly feeling heavier. My breath caught as I stared at him.
"Did it work?" he asked, his grin now cocky, like he'd just uncovered a secret only he understood.
I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Whoever told you you're not smart is sorely mistaken. I can see through lies now, huh?"
The realization brought a rush of both excitement and unease. That word—"esper"—tugged at the edges of my mind, persistent and maddening.
"That word," I said slowly, drumming my fingers against the armrest of the chair, "esper… I've heard it before. I know I have."
The stillness of the room felt oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling light. I stared at the smooth, modern lines of the furniture, trying to focus. Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
"Yes, Devin!" I said, sitting up straighter. "I read about a race called espers in a book. They were described as monsters, but it was dismissed as a fairy tale. Do you think it's connected?"
Devin pushed off the wall, his expression shifting from playful to serious. It was rare to see him like this—his blue eyes focused and intent. "It's possible," he said after a moment. "But let's not jump to conclusions. I'll do some research for you."
I studied him for a moment, the warmth of his sincerity catching me off guard. Devin, for all his bravado, had an unexpected depth to him. The knot in my chest loosened, just a little.
"Thanks," I said quietly, my voice softer than I intended.
I stood and walked toward the mirror mounted on the opposite wall. It was large and sleek, with a simple black frame. My reflection stared back at me under the harsh light, but all I could focus on was my left eye. The red center glowed faintly, and the orange iris stretched outward into four sharp points. It didn't look human anymore—it looked alive, like it was changing under my gaze.
A chill ran down my spine.
"I have a horn," I said suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I don't know where it came from. I was born with it, but I thought it was just a birth defect. My family thought so too. But now… I don't think that's true anymore."
Devin straightened, his brow furrowing. "Wait, what? You have a horn? Show me."
I hesitated, my heart pounding. The white light overhead suddenly felt too bright, exposing every vulnerability I'd tried to keep hidden. What if he thought I was a freak? What if this changed everything?
But Devin's expression wasn't mocking or skeptical. It was calm, steady—patient.
I walked over to him, sitting beside him on the edge of the smooth leather couch. My hands trembled as I reached up and parted my hair, revealing the small horn jutting from my skull.
He leaned in, his warm breath brushing against my skin. His fingers grazed the horn, careful and deliberate, as if testing its texture.
"What do you know about this?" he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.
I took a deep breath and began to tell him everything—the strange sensations, the way the horn felt tied to something I couldn't explain. My words spilled out in a rush, the weight of my secret finally lifting.
By the time I finished, my chest felt tight, and I realized my hands were clenched in my lap.
Devin's face shifted into an expression I didn't expect: concern. "You've been dealing with all this by yourself?" His voice was quieter now, almost pained. "I thought we were friends, Beatrix. You could've told me."
His words stung, but not in a bad way. It was guilt, sharp and unrelenting. I looked away, unsure how to respond.
But then, as if sensing my turmoil, his usual teasing smirk appeared. "Don't worry. I'll help you figure this out. I promise."
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't hide the small smile tugging at my lips. "Shut up."
He laughed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the room didn't feel so cold.
Thre was a lot to resolve. Next up was who the heck that cloaked figure was..