"Between the shadows of the unknown and the blaze of eternal flames, only those who dare to walk the path of their destiny will uncover the truth that cannot be spoken." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of the Reborn Hero.
"I think that's enough," whispered a young man with eyes as bright as emeralds. His hands closed a book, the dry sound echoing in the room with a thud. The thick, rough cover didn't bother him; on the contrary, it felt pleasant against his fingertips.
His gaze drifted toward the window, where the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. "I think it's time to head down," he said to himself, standing up from the chair and leaving the book beside others. He turned off the desk lamp and stretched a couple of times. His body protested with slight spasms, as it had ever since that crazed hat decided to train him simply because it found it amusing.
Not that he cared much; only the first three days had been a true nightmare, unbearable. After that, he adapted to the routine, even if his daily complaints suggested otherwise. If anyone had seen him on that first day, his image would have been utterly shattered... no, scratch that, it would have been buried hundreds of meters underground. What still annoyed him, however, was his constant lack of sleep.
Between morning training, extra hours spent catching up, and the need to keep his mind busy, his sleep schedule was in ruins. Light shadows began to form under his eyes, and irritation—though well-hidden—had started to surface. The sense of disconnection from his surroundings hit him like an anvil. Yes, it went without saying how tedious his recent interactions had been; even simple tasks like staying awake in class or refraining from punching the first idiot who looked at him the wrong way were becoming increasingly insufferable.
Fortunately, his limits were still far off. After all, he was a university student with a part-time job. He wouldn't call himself an expert, but he didn't consider himself a beginner either. Sure, he might as well be praised for romanticizing overwork and academic burnout. Decreased focus, lack of physical energy, and other issues didn't seem to affect him for now, perhaps due to the unique capabilities a body could achieve in this world.
As he pondered this, he finished his stretches, cracked the joints in his neck, and sighed wearily. "Alright, let's eat something. But first..." his gaze turned toward the bathroom, "let's complete the routine to start the morning off right." Despite his enthusiastic words, his face still resembled that of the walking dead.
Minutes later, as he descended the hallway stairs to the dormitory dining hall, the stares he received were... well, at the very least, interesting. Some were the usual glances, while others came with whispers—not exactly directed at him or his tired appearance but rather at the sleeping hat perched atop his head. As always, Meru stole the spotlight ever since it entered his life.
He ignored all of it. His mood wasn't at its best that morning, so he decided to take a page from his Master's book and put on his best poker face. He walked over to sit at an empty table, far from the other students. Barely had he touched the wooden seat when Beatriz, the dorm caretaker, appeared.
Her long gray dress was rolled up, and she wore a leather vest with laces and a white apron stained with traces of cooking ingredients.
"Brián, look at you—aren't you too lightly dressed? Winter is coming soon," asked the youthful-looking woman. He simply shook his head and smiled. That woman cared too much for others for her own good.
"I appreciate your concern, but today is fencing practice. Dressing lightly is best."
"Alright, but make sure you don't catch a cold." She returned his smile, motherly and warm. "I'll bring you something for breakfast," she paused, her eyes shifting to the hat on his head, "for both of you," she added with a playful tone before heading to the kitchen.
Yes, "both." Because, apparently, this ancient spirit liked to act human, which included the act of eating. Well, he certainly would have been very disappointed if he couldn't do it; after all, he was a damn magical hat.
"Will you stop pretending to be asleep, or are you going to tell me what the Master has been up to? Our last conversation was four days ago, when she handed me that stack of books."
Meru half-opened one of his eyes. "That's your fault, kid. Aurora wanted to make the most of your current situation, so she went to request an extension for your academic activities. Obviously, they agreed, but not without a price. She's probably off somewhere fulfilling someone else's obligations right now. Don't worry; she'll be back before the week is over."
"She's going to so much trouble for me. Maybe I should give her something as a thank-you, though I'm broke as hell. Meru, when's her birthday? Not to brag, but I know a thing or two about baking." The spirit scoffed at the comment. "It's in a few months. If you want the exact date, ask her when she gets back."
"Alright," he huffed, his eyes wandering around the room until they locked onto another pair, which immediately stared back at him. Hazel irises, sharp and unrelenting, gazed at him like a hawk eyeing its prey. He blinked a couple of times. Damn... the eye contact had lasted too long for him to pretend he hadn't noticed her. For his own peace of mind, he couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room.
He raised a hand, offered a faint smile, and waved—a gesture she evidently interpreted as an open invitation to approach.
He tried to avoid looking like a complete idiot. Besides, hadn't he told himself he'd stop avoiding her for the sake of this body he now inhabited? He sighed, summoning the courage for the impending confrontation. When she got close enough, he made the first move. "How's your morning, Emma?"
She nodded in acknowledgment. Her face showed no hint of annoyance at his presence—a green light to continue. "As usual," she replied monotonously, sitting down, which caused the tattoo of interwoven feathers on her left wrist to peek through, itching faintly. He still had no idea what the hell that thing was, something he'd need to investigate later. Apparently, he was too afraid to ask her directly if she experienced the same reaction whenever they were near each other.
The young woman with chestnut hair shifted her gaze directly to Meru. "Why are you carrying that ill-mannered spirit on your head?" she asked, her eyes sharp as daggers.
"Oh, this?" He gestured at the ancient spirit. "It's just my new Mad Hatter style. Like it?"
Emma stared at him, the daggers in her gaze vanishing, replaced by an emotionless calm. "Of course not. It takes more away from you than it adds."
He smiled to keep from laughing. That made two people with similar thoughts, but he couldn't say it out loud, or that bastard Meru would take revenge on him later. Emma seemed confused, unsure of what was so funny about her words, though, naturally, she didn't show it.
Suddenly, she looked him straight in the eyes and dropped a 50-megaton bomb: "After training classes, I'll be waiting for you at reception. We need to talk." She then turned her gaze aside, her cheeks tinted with an almost imperceptible shade of pink, and stood up. He tilted his head in confusion, reaching out to stop her, but she was already out of reach.
Huh? What the hell was that?
When a girl said they needed to talk, it meant one of two things: you were screwed, or you were very, very screwed. His eyes followed Emma as she walked out of the dormitory and into the open air. Wait... she hadn't had breakfast yet, had she?
Meru detached himself from his head, landing on the wooden table, his folds forming a disgustingly smug expression. "If you two lovebirds are done, come back to the present."
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't take you for the type who enjoys watching kids interact. What is it? How old are you? A hundred? Two hundred?" he replied with the flattest, most deadpan tone he could muster.
The wind spirit chuckled. "Don't think I didn't notice, kid. Your body gave you away. You were as tense as a spring, and I'm not talking about your 'little friend' down there. Your hands were sweating, and without realizing it, you corrected your posture. You felt butterflies in your stomach, didn't you?" Meru concluded, his line of questioning as sloppy as a corrupt cop's investigation.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to climb on tables before eating?" he shot back.
At his words, the ancient spirit snorted. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to walk around looking like an idiot?"
He grimaced. "Touché," he muttered.
Shortly after their healthy argument, trading accusations back and forth, breakfast arrived at the table. They agreed on a temporary truce and enjoyed their carbs in silence.
Yes, Emma's parting comment had definitely screwed him over. Then again... when hadn't he been screwed over in the past few days?