Chapter 30: When Honesty Sneaks Out
Thursday, January 11, 18 NE.
"Back here again, huh?"
I find myself standing in front of the extracurricular building—the same one I visited just a few days ago. It's early, too early for most people to be around, but I have a reason for being here. I need to talk to Helena.
After everything that happened yesterday, meeting her in a typical setting would be... awkward. If anyone else were around, it's unlikely we'd even get the chance to talk properly. That's why I came here—to have a private conversation, away from the eyes of others.
I woke up earlier than usual this morning, and this idea came to me. I'd asked Alysha about Helena's routine, and she mentioned that Helena often comes to the infirmary in this building before anyone else. It's the perfect place—quiet and uninterrupted.
The door to the infirmary was unlocked, so I stepped inside. Sitting in a chair, absorbed in a book, was Helena, wearing a white coat. When she noticed me, You could totally see her surprise.—she snapped the book shut and simply stared, saying nothing.
"Sorry, Senior Helena, could we talk for a moment?"
I walked over, trying to gauge her reaction. She nodded, her face a mix of confusion and hesitation. There was something else there, too—anxiety, maybe even fear.
I plopped down across from her, doing my best to catch her eye, but she just wouldn't look at me. She kept glancing away like she was trying to totally ignore me.
"I'm here to talk about my power. With no one else around, I can finally speak freely."
Honestly, sharing my truth wasn't something I did lightly—not even with my group. In fact, only Alysha knew the full complete story. But Helena's request from before had stayed with me, nagging at the back of my mind. Breaking my usual boundaries, I made a decision. I wasn't entirely sure why, but resisting it only made my thoughts more tangled.
It feels strange, even for me, but I don't want to refuse her. Maybe it's because I saw her nearly die right in front of me. Maybe that moment scarred me more than I realized.
"Hey, I don't want to put any more pressure on you," Helena said softly, avoiding eye contact again. She felt that guilt from yesterday still hanging around, and it was a new feeling for her.
"It's fine," I assured her. "You can ask me anything. I don't want to see someone lose themselves over this."
If she let this guilt fester, she might become too afraid to move forward. And I couldn't let her spiral because of what happened.
"But... I don't deserve to ask. I don't even know what you've been through, but I know I've hurt you," she said, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes.
Seeing her like this, I decided. If sharing my story would help, then I would. I didn't feel burdened by the idea of telling her—not anymore.
"I'll tell you if you want to hear it," I said, offering a small, faint smile. I didn't want her to feel guilty for asking.
Helena looked startled, taken aback by the shift in my behavior. Yesterday, I had been so determined to keep everything hidden. Now, I was ready to lay it all out.
Yes, I know about it, even myself is also confused, a bit.
"This is my secret," I said quietly. "Please, don't write it down. Just keep it in your heart."
I had made up my mind. If she didn't want to hear it, I'd let it go, but if she did, I was ready to share everything.
Helena remained silent, her expression unreadable as she waited for me to continue.
And so I told her. I told her everything. From the time I took Alysha's place in the experiments to my hospital recovery, and even my current goal of protecting Violet. I didn't hold back.
Helena listened, tears streaming silently down her face as she took it all in. I wasn't sure how to react, so I didn't say anything. I just sat there, watching her cry, unsure of what to do.
Finally, I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her in a gentle hug. I rubbed her back lightly, trying to offer some comfort.
This was the first time I'd shared my story from the lab with someone other than Alysha. I hadn't even told the rest of my group the full story—only bits and pieces in a letter. Yet, somehow, I felt no regret. In fact, it was almost... freeing.
Since the fire at the lab, trusting others has been hard. But with Helena, there was no hesitation, no doubt. It was strange, like my instincts were guiding me differently than they had before. The same applied when I told Putri about my power.
As I held her, a thought crossed my mind: could Helena—or even Putri—have some connection to my past? Something I've forgotten? For instance, their atmosphere is the same as Violet's, thrusting and making some comfort.
Alysha's clues hadn't suggested any ties between us, yet I couldn't shake the feeling. It didn't make sense otherwise—this unexplainable trust, this sense of calm.
When Helena eventually calmed down, her confidence seemed to trickle back. She wiped her tears and offered me a small, hesitant smile.
"Even if I try to go back to who I was before, I don't think it'll happen. But I'll do my best," she said.
"That's all I could ask for," I replied. "Maybe that's why I told you my story—to help you find your way."
Helena nodded, her determination slowly returning. Even though I knew it wouldn't be an easy road for her, I hoped sharing my truth would help her move forward.
"And about my power, it's in line with what I said yesterday," I said. "However, some things were not revealed fully."
Helena didn't seem surprised when I told her there were things I had kept hidden, even though I thought it was pretty obvious considering I had been trying to keep it a secret.
"My power is
She looked really serious listening to me, and then I continued.
"The first is power notification. This allows me to learn about any power I see, powers directed at me, or even those in close proximity. For instance, Senior Helena, I learned about your ability,
Helena's surprise was predictable. I'd seen this reaction before when people learned about my power. But she didn't speak, didn't ask questions. Instead, she simply listened attentively, her silence encouraging me to continue.
"The second part of my power is absorption," I explained. "Once I become aware of an ability nearby, I can mimic it. However, it comes with limits."
Helena gave a slight nod to show she understood, though her usual eagerness was noticeably subdued.
"I can only store five abilities at a time. If I want to mimic another, I have to overwrite one of the existing ones. Does that make sense?"
Her expression hinted at curiosity, but she stayed quiet, nodding instead of voicing her thoughts. It seemed like she had questions but chose to keep them to herself.
"The final component is the use of these powers," I continued. "I can replicate their full potential, but only if I completely understand them. Otherwise, I'm limited. I can only use each power three times before it vanishes from within me as if it was never there and I need to copy again if i want to use it."
Helena's face betrayed her thoughts. She looked like she wanted to ask something but hesitated, worrying over whether she should.
Noticing her struggle, I gently offered, "If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Even if they're unrelated, it's okay."
My reassurance startled her, and she finally spoke.
"Why are you telling me all this? What if I leak it to others?"
Her question was fair—this information could easily be used against me. But somehow, I wasn't worried. Maybe it was trust, or maybe I just didn't want to keep hiding things from her.
"I don't have a clear answer," I admitted. "I just trust you. And I want you to trust me, too."
Helena lowered her gaze, guilt written across her face. It was clear she thought she didn't deserve the trust I'd placed in her.
Hoping to shift the mood, I asked something that had been on my mind. "Can I ask you something instead? Your curiosity—it's rare to see someone as driven as you. Where does it come from?"
My question froze her in place. She seemed torn, uncertain of how to respond. Her curiosity, once a source of pride, now seemed like a burden to her.
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," I said, sensing her discomfort.
But instead of relief, my words made her think. After a long pause, she finally answered.
"No, I can tell you. My curiosity… it comes from a desire to feel valued."
"To be valued?" I echoed, her words striking a chord.
She explained that she'd spent her life chasing knowledge, believing it would make her worth something to others.
To be valued? If knowledge could make you valued, then of course that would be great, but if it's too extreme, all it brings is criticism and makes people afraid of you.
Others wouldn't feel appreciative if they didn't truly know your nature; all they'd feel is discomfort and annoyance. It's like someone constantly digging for information from you; of course, that would make you uneasy, even if it's common knowledge.
But instead of appreciation, her relentless pursuit of understanding often alienated her. People didn't see her for who she was—they only saw an intellectual, a problem-solver.
In short, Helena had never felt truly cared for in her life.
But yesterday changed everything. For the first time, she felt valued not for her intellect, but for who she was as a person.
Her confession left me conflicted. While I was glad she might let go of the extremes of her curiosity, I couldn't ignore the guilt of having changed her so profoundly. Was it really okay for me to alter someone's nature like this?
Sensing my unease, Helena spoke again. "Don't feel burdened by it. In fact, I'm grateful. You've given me something I've been searching for—purpose in my life. Honestly, I don't care whether I'm smart or not as long as someone cares about me."
Her words landed on me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a rush of heat creeping up my face. A life purpose? Someone who cares? Doesn't It sound almost too intimate, too personal, like a confession?
Heat rose to my face, and I looked away, desperate to hide the embarrassment I was sure was written all over me. Unfortunately, it was too late. Helena's face turned red as well, realized that her words just now were kin of indirect confession.
"N-no! That's not what I meant! I…!" she stammered, her voice nervous and flustered.
I felt slightly relieved that Alysha wasn't here, I knew she would've been rolling on the floor with laughter.
Despite the awkwardness, the heavy tension between us had lifted. What remained was just a shared sense of embarrassment, which was a lot easier to deal with. We sat there quietly, neither of us knowing what to say until the school bell finally rang.
As we parted ways, we exchanged a few light words, and I felt a strange sense of calm. Things weren't perfect, but they were better.