Devoid

Valencia spent the night in the room without a blanket. Her hands shook, sweat slicking her skin. Her breath came jagged as her fingers clenched.

“No…” she muttered.

Nausea churned. She opened her eyes. Her vision rippled like disturbed water. Panting, she scanned the room, then stared at her hands and pulled off her gloves. Scars lined her palms.

Pain surged—as if something needed to be released. Too much. Overwhelming.

She turned to her bag and rummaged through it in a panic. Then—

A silver dagger set with a purple jewel.

She gripped it and pressed the blade to her skin, over a scar. Blood welled slowly as she closed her eyes.

“Breathe… calm down…” she whispered, breath unsteady. “Fuse the aura to your blood and release…”

Each drop pooled beneath her, and the burning in her chest eased.

When relief finally came, she loosened her grip and let the dagger fall aside. Valencia opened her eyes and swallowed, steadying herself. She wiped her sweat off and rested her head.

“Will this power swallow me alive?” she wondered, gritting her teeth.

A cold breath blew a small whistle by her ear.

Valencia froze, her eyes widening as her body wouldn’t move as she wanted.

“Why would I eat my vessel?” a distorted voice asked.

She trembled as her eyes twitched.

“L-let… me… go!” Valencia broke through, turning around. She darted her head to search around her. She crawled backward to the wall, making sure nothing stood behind her. As she clenched her hands, the injured palm seethed blood. She placed her knees up and leaned against them, closing her eyes. “When will this stop? Mother, how long will this thing bother me?”

NEXT MORNING

Valencia wrapped her injured hand in a bandage before putting on her gloves. Then she changed her clothes. She walked out of the slums and into the Office of Affairs. Many other Academy graduates were there, lining up as they waited.

Valencia stood behind the last person, who turned around and smiled at her.

“Hi! My name is Lilas. House of Baron, Trutti…”

Valencia smiled and nodded.

“I’m Valencia… nice to meet you.”

“What was your rank when you graduated?” Lilas pried.

“F.”

Lilas’s face turned pale as her heart stopped beating for a second.

“F?” she echoed as sweat formed from her temple. How can one graduate with an F rank as a Guide? Will she ever find a match? I should not get tangled with her. Lilas smiled awkwardly. “Oh… really?”

“Yes,” Valencia replied seriously.

Lilas bowed hesitantly as her cheek twitched—

“Morning, Guides…” a lady greeted firmly.

All eyes darted to the front.

“It’s Madame Evie,” one whispered excitedly.

The lady, Evie, looked around to check something. Her eyes caught Valencia as she stared intensely.

Valencia swallowed her fear and averted her gaze immediately. Our eyes met. Will she notice that I might not belong here? Her body stiffened.

Evie glanced at the graduates again and placed her hands on her hips.

“It seems like we have a rough patch of graduates here today…” Evie declared. Everyone gasped and turned to each other, murmuring. Valencia bit her lower lip. “We will be scanning your body to check if there is any match for the Espers that need you. So form a line and head into the laboratory.”

“Yes, Madame,” the graduates said in unison.

Valencia watched everyone running to form a line, hoping to impress with their skills and beauty. Some men in the line, too, flexed their muscles, enticing the female Espers as they walked.

Valencia scoffed as she shook her head. Lilas squealed happily, clenching her hands on her chest.

“I can’t wait…” Lilas smiled. “If I get confirmed Rank A or S, I might be able to be paired with Young Duke Kael…”

Valencia’s brow shot up, eyes narrowing in incredulity. Kael? Why does his name sound so familiar? She shook her head to clear it.

High above, William’s boots thudded against the Tower stairs—the five-hundredth-floor.

“This is dreadful… once I finish this mission, I will submit my letter of resignation. Working for Lord Kael is pure hell…” he muttered.

A faint footstep followed.

“Oh, really? Are you saying that I am a Devil myself?” Kael asked.

William spun, glaring.

“Of course you are! I am not even your Guide, and you’re working me to the bone!” he bickered, voice wobbling.

Kael chuckled and strolled past without so much as a hitch in his step, expression bored enough to be rude.

“Continue… I won’t spare you any of my aura,” he smirked, as if threatening mild frostbite.

William’s lower lip trembled. Then everything escalated. His knees hit the stone with a pathetic thud, arms flailed like a broken weather vane, sweat droplets flew off his brow, and his voice cracked mid-sentence into a high, theatrical wail.

“I— I must report you! A dreadful tyrant!” He clawed at the air. If I collapse now, will anyone file my resignation or at least write a eulogy about my loyalty to schedules?