"The hell do you mean he's gone to Hell's Training?" Nila yells, slamming her hand on the table, her voice shaking the room.
"It was his choice. I had no other option," Adam replies calmly, though his eyes flicker with frustration.
Nila glares at him, her voice sharp. "You know damn well Rem isn't in his right mind right now."
Adam stays silent as she continues, her words coming out in a rush. "He just unlocked his Uniqueness! We don't even understand the side effects yet. But it's clearly affecting him—did you see his eyes? It was like staring into a void."
"And that's exactly why I sent him there," Adam responds firmly. "Miss Old is the only one who can handle him now."
Nila's eyes widen in disbelief. "That old hag?"
"She's an expert in dealing with Uniqueness. She'll figure out what's going on with him. It's why I sent him to her as fast as I could."
As their argument intensifies, voices rising and tension thick in the air, outside the office, Noelle stands quietly, leaning against the wall, listening to every word.
Noelle walks away, having heard enough. Her face remains calm, but her thoughts are consumed by Rem.
As she makes her way through the hall, she spots Luna standing at the other end. Their eyes meet—Noelle's gaze steady, Luna's uncertain.
For reasons she never fully understood, Noelle had always felt a pang of jealousy toward Luna. Maybe it was the way Luna always seemed so close to Rem, or perhaps it was something deeper, something unspoken.
Luna, on the other hand, had her own reasons for disliking Noelle. To her, Noelle had always ignored the person who cared for her the most—Rem.
They stand in silence, staring at each other for a long moment. The tension between them is palpable, a quiet rivalry neither has ever put into words.
Finally, Noelle breaks the silence, sighing as she speaks.
"He lied," Noelle says, her voice calm but distant. "He's gone to Hell's Training."
Her face remains unreadable, but the weight of her words hangs heavy in the air.
Noelle starts walking again, passing Luna without a word.
"Is your image more important than him?" Luna suddenly asks, her voice sharp, though she doesn't turn around.
Noelle freezes for a moment, her back to Luna, the words hanging heavy between them. She doesn't respond. Instead, she resumes walking, her steps steady but her heart conflicted.
Luna doesn't move either, standing in place as Noelle walks away. What she doesn't see is Noelle clenching her fists, her nails digging into her palms, biting her lip so hard it begins to bleed.
Eventually, Noelle stops again, leaning against the cold wall of the now-empty hall. Her composed facade begins to crack. Silent tears start streaming down her face, her body trembling with emotions she's kept buried for too long.
"Why… did it turn out like this?" she whispers to herself between quiet sobs, wiping the tears away, though more quickly take their place.
But no matter how much she tries to hold it together, the pain remains. The truth of her feelings, long ignored, now overwhelms her.
…
As I slowly remove the bandages from my right hand, I notice something strange—my arm is completely healed. The wounds, the pain—it's as if they were never there.
But how?
I glance down at the bracelet wrapped around my wrist, the one Noelle gave me when we were kids. My fingers brush against it, and memories flood back. I still remember the day she placed it on my hand, the warmth of her touch, the shy smile she had. That feeling, that sensation—it lingers even now.
Pushing the thought aside, for now, I quickly get changed. Ma'am mentioned there were extra rooms in the house, and told me to pick whichever I wanted.
Once dressed in my training clothes, I head outside. Ma'am is already standing in the training ground, next to a battered old dummy. She's holding a wooden sword in her hand, tapping it against the ground with an impatient look on her face.
As I approach, without a word, she tosses the sword in my direction. I catch it just in time, feeling its weight settle in my hand.
"Hit the dummy with it," she commands.
I tighten my grip around the wooden sword, but suddenly, the world begins to spin. My vision blurs, my body trembles uncontrollably, and beads of sweat form on my forehead. My breathing becomes labored, each breath feeling heavier than the last.
I step closer to the dummy, forcing myself to raise the sword. My hand shakes, and as I swing, I close my eyes. It's weak—a barely-there slash across the dummy's side. Not nearly enough power.
"Your special trait is Slash, huh?" Ma'am says, her voice cutting through the haze.
"Yes, Ma'am," I answer, my voice unsteady, betraying the discomfort clawing at me.
As I ready myself to swing again, Ma'am steps forward and stops me, her hand firm on my shoulder. "Throw the sword away. Use your hand like a sword and swing."
Confused, I hesitate but do as she says, tossing the wooden sword aside. I raise my hand, unsure of how this will work, but I mimic the motion of swinging a blade.
"Go on," she encourages, her eyes watching intently.
I take a deep breath and swing my hand toward the dummy.
This time, there's no hesitation, and I keep my eyes open. My hand strikes the dummy with a force that surprises me—it shakes from the impact, and it does more damage than when I had used the sword. Not because I'm stronger without a weapon, but because every time I hold a sword, I'm reminded of that day…
"Okay, now follow me," Ma'am says abruptly.
"Huh? But we just started…" I protest, but she cuts me off.
"I said follow me."
I quickly fall in step behind her as she leads me back inside the house. We enter the dining area, and I sit at the table. Without a word, she places two large bowls filled with meat in front of me.
"Eat all of it," she orders.
I stare at her, confused.
"What are you waiting for? Eat it. Quickly," she insists.
"Uh… do I really have to—"
"Don't make me shove it in your mouth," she snaps.
Her words trigger something, a vague memory flickering in the back of my mind. Someone said that to me once… someone important. But I push the thought away, focusing on the food.
I place a piece of the cooked meat on my plate, slicing it carefully. As I try to bring it to my mouth, something happens—my body starts to reject it. Not because the food is bad, but because… I just can't. There's a reason I'm so skinny.
"Okay, stop," she says abruptly. "Follow me."
I'm confused again, but I'm relieved because I don't have to eat. I decide not to protest. As we enter the training ground again, Ma'am sits down on the ground in front of me.
"You sit, too," she commands.
I hesitate but follow her lead.
"I'm going to be honest with you," she says, her voice calm but firm.
I brace myself, already knowing what's coming. She's going to tell me to go back, that I'm weak and helpless. But I won't return. I came here to get stronger, and I won't leave until I do.
"You're pretty good," she says.
"Sorry, but I can't—wait, what?" I blurt out in disbelief.
"Yes," she continues, "you have good mastery of your Special Trait. Most people underestimate 'Slash,' but simplicity makes it easier to use and master."
I sit there, stunned. Her words replay in my head.
"And you," she goes on, "are using your Trait with no difficulty. I also have a passive Special Trait, and even I struggle to control it at times. But you—you can use your Trait whenever you want. Do you understand what that means? It means every one of your slashes is ten times stronger."
"But then... why are my attacks so weak?" I ask, confusion clouding my mind.
"You already know the answer," she says, her eyes piercing through me. "Rem, you know what's holding you back."
I fall silent, my gaze fixed on the ground.
"I understand your family treated you poorly," she continues, Her tone softer now, "but what did they do to leave you this traumatized?"
I stay silent, staring at the dirt, the weight of her question pressing on me.
"I know it's hard," she says, "to remember painful memories. But if you don't face them, you'll never change."
Her words hang in the air, heavy, waiting. I can feel her watching me, waiting for me to open up.
Finally, I draw in a shaky breath and open my mouth.
"It all began…"