I walk slowly toward my mother's room, carrying a tray of food I made just for her. My heart pounds a little, but I ignore it, focusing on each step, hoping she'll like it.
When I reach her door, I hesitate for a moment, then gently knock, waiting for her approval.
"Come in," her voice comes through, distant and flat.
I push the door open and step inside. There she is, sitting on her chair, staring out the window like she always does, lost in her thoughts.
"Mom... I made some food for you," I say, a bit of pride slipping into my voice as I place the tray in front of her.
But instead of the warmth I long for, she only gives me a cold, sharp glance.
"What is this garbage?" my mother snaps, her voice cold and sharp. "Who told you to cook for me? We have a chef hired for a reason."
Her words cut deep, but before I can even react, she continues, her disgust evident. "And you... you're supposed to be training, not wasting time in the kitchen. My God, why did I even give birth to such a useless child?"
Without warning, she grabs the tray and throws it at me. I barely have time to flinch as it crashes against my head, knocking me to the floor. Hot soup spills everywhere, soaking me and mixing with the blood trickling from where the tray struck.
I lie there, stunned and covered in the meal I had so carefully prepared for her.
The room falls into a deafening silence.
Through blurry, teary eyes, I glance up at her. For a moment, just a moment, I see something flicker in her expression—regret, guilt maybe.
"Rem... I..." she begins, her voice softening as she realizes she went too far.
But I don't let her finish. I scramble to my feet and run. I don't care where—just away from her, away from this.
From that day on, I never visited her again. I avoided her at all costs. Even food became a painful reminder.
But why... why am I remembering that now?
I ask myself as I watch Nila helping Noelle to her feet.
Luna rushes in, followed closely by Noelle's group of friends.
Before I even notice, the dark blue flames surrounding me fade into nothing.
"Noelle, are you okay?" Nila's voice is thick with worry as she kneels beside her.
Noelle nods weakly, but Nila's eyes dart at me as I turn to leave.
"Hey, Rem! Where do you think you're going?" she shouts, frustration and anger in her voice. But Noelle reaches out, stopping her.
I don't turn around. I just keep walking.
As I make my way out, I feel Luna's eyes on me—full of confusion and worry.
"Rem…" she whispers my name, but I keep moving, my steps heavy with everything unsaid.
When I reach my dorm, I slam the door shut behind me.
"PFFT... HAHAHAHA!"
Laughter bursts from me, uncontrollable and wild, echoing off the walls like it's coming from someone else.
"Did you see their faces?" I choke out between laughs.
"Good," the dark voice replies, its tone dripping with satisfaction.
After a few moments, the laughter dies down, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
"So, you're my Uniqueness?" I say with a twisted smile.
"Uniqueness?" the voice questions, a low rumble of confusion.
"It's something we're born with, but it takes time to form." I say, leaning back on the bed, not caring that my clothes are still soaked from the chaos earlier.
"Interesting," the voice responds, almost amused. "Well, it'll certainly make your training easier from now on."
I nod, sinking further into the mattress. My mind swirls with the possibilities.
"From now on," the voice continues, its tone seeping into me, "everyone will be wary of you. No one will look down on you, Rem."
The voice wraps around me, feeding me, twisting inside my thoughts.
"Especially that redhead. She'll soon realize what she's lost."
Its words sink deeper into my soul, and I listen, the fire of its venom fueling me. My eyes darken, growing emptier by the second.
Before I even realize it, morning has arrived.
I rise, feeling no fatigue, my mind sharper than ever. I begin packing my things, methodically and without emotion.
After a quick shower, I pull on my casual clothes and run a hand through my damp hair. The knock on the door interrupts me, but I already know who it is.
A slow, sinister smile spreads across my face.
I open the door.
Sir Adam stands there, just as I expected.
"Looks like you were expecting me," Sir Adam remarks, his eyes scanning Rem with a sharp, discerning gaze. He can clearly sense the changes in him—the darkness that now lingered just beneath the surface.
"The wagon is here to pick you up," Sir Adam continues. "Normally, it would take time to process your application since we need to find a suitable mentor. But, fortunately, someone has already agreed to help you."
"Mentor?" Rem scoffs, his voice cold. "I don't need one."
"It's the rule for candidates," Sir Adam responds firmly. "You must have a mentor."
Rem's expression darkens in dissatisfaction, but he relents with a nod, knowing he can't change the system.
"Looks like you've already packed." Sir Adam glances at Rem's belongings, neatly arranged and ready to go. "Did you say goodbye to your friends? You won't be seeing them for a while."
At the mention of friends, Rem's mind immediately flashes to Noelle and Luna. The thought stirs something deep, but it's quickly swallowed by the void inside him.
"…I have no friends," Rem mutters, his voice emotionless, his eyes hard.
As I walk outside, Sir Adam leads the way, guiding me toward the waiting wagon. The air feels heavier with each step, as if the weight of everything I've left behind is pressing down on me.
We approach the wagon, and without a word, I climb inside.
"Well, see you, Rem," Sir Adam says casually, as though this is just another day.
I give him a slight nod as he closes the door behind me. No words are needed. The wagon starts to move, and I lean back, glancing out the window.
The war academy slowly fades from view, the stone walls and training grounds disappearing into the distance. There's no turning back now.
No more Looking over my shoulder, Rem thinks, his gaze growing distant.
After some hours, the wagon finally comes to a stop.
Stepping out, I see a two-floor house in front of me, surrounded by a training ground that looks long abandoned. We're at the very edge of the west, where the forest stretches endlessly, marking the border of the beast zone. The place is quiet—eerily so—like it's been untouched for years. The trees sway gently, casting long shadows over the empty grounds.
"This place hasn't seen life in a while..." I mutter to myself.
Suddenly, the door of the house creaks open, and a figure steps out.
An old woman steps out of the house, her presence immediately commanding the space. She has stark white hair, wrinkles lining her face, and she's short—almost as short as a child. Despite her appearance, the moment I lay eyes on her, I feel an overwhelming pressure, like the air around her is thicker, denser.
"So, you're the brat who ruined my vacation," she says with frustration lacing her voice.
"Pardon?" I reply, taken aback by the hostility.
She eyes me up and down, her expression unimpressed.
"Sheesh, don't they feed you over there?" she comments.
I don't respond, keeping my face neutral.
Her gaze sharpens. "Rem... the disappointment of the Wraith family. Tell me, who in their right mind gave you the brilliant idea to come here?" Her voice drips with sarcasm, mocking every word.
"It was my choice," I say flatly, my voice devoid of any emotion.
She stares at me for a few moments, her eyes narrowing as if trying to see through me.
"Okay," she finally says, her tone shifting abruptly. "Then go change into your training clothes."
"Huh?" I blink, confused. "What?"
"What?" she snaps back, eyebrow raised.
"No, I thought... you know, you'd say something like 'you're too weak' or 'go home,' or test me or something."
The old woman fixes me with a deadpan look. "Kid, do I look like a character from one of those cliché novels where I act all high and mighty, pretending you're not worthy just to test your resolve?"
I don't answer, unsure how to react.
"Listen," she continues, her voice firm. "You came here, and my job is to guide you. I'm not wasting time with that bullshit. Go change. And from now on, call me 'ma'am.' You got it?"
...
"Yes, ma'am."