The Essence Flow-Chapter 141: What's Written On Paper
Morning sunlight streamed through the academy's arched windows, painting golden rectangles across the marble floors where Towan's boots fell in quick, hungry strides. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon curled through the hallways, pulling him toward the cafeteria like an edible siren song.
Then—movement at the periphery.
A flash of silver-threaded uniform. A deliberate shoulder-check that sent Rellie stumbling back, her tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her cup.
"Look where you're going, commoner." The noble's voice dripped with manufactured disdain, the Kirvant house crest embroidered proudly on his jacket sleeve catching the light as he adjusted his cuffs. His smirk said everything—this was no accident.
"I'm sorry." Rellie's reply came soft as steam rising from her cup, though her crimson eyes burned with silent understanding. She'd felt the malice radiating off him three paces away—the petty satisfaction as he altered his path just enough to collide.
(What the...?)
Towan's footsteps faltered. His fingers curled into fists so tight his nails bit crescent moons into his palms.
(These noble bastards.)
The sunlight suddenly felt too bright, the hallway too narrow, the noble's smug face too punchable. Every muscle in his body tensed like a coiled spring, torn between walking away and giving this privileged prick a firsthand lesson in consequences.
(These fuckers...picking on someone who won't fight back.)
The thought burned through Towan's mind like wildfire through dry brush. His casual stride sharpened into something predatory, each footfall echoing with purpose against the marble floors.
The Kirvant heir's fingers hovered inches from Rellie's face, his smirk twisting into something uglier. "I guess you're gonna have to pay me back somehow—"
CRACK.
A shoulder-check landed with the precision of a hammer strike, sending the noble stumbling sideways. The impact reverberated up Towan's collarbone—a satisfying jolt of pain worth every ounce of force.
"What? HEY!" The noble's voice cracked mid-shout, his perfectly coiffed hair now disheveled. "Watch where you're going, dumbass!"
Towan turned slowly, revealing a expression Rellie had never witnessed before—his usual playful smirk replaced by something darker, more dangerous. The muscles along his jawline stood out like drawn steel. "What are you gonna do about it?" He stood with deceptive casualness, hands stuffed in pockets, but his stance screamed
try me
. The air around him practically vibrated with restrained violence.
Recognition flashed in the noble's eyes—the +10 flag bearer from the trials, the brawler who'd gone toe-to-toe with Deyar. His throat worked silently before spitting out, "You...! You'll see me later!" The retreating footsteps carried more bluster than threat.
"Tsk." Towan's scoff cut through the hallway like a knife. "What a coward." He made sure the words landed, each syllable perfectly audible to the fleeing figure. Only when the noble turned the corner did Towan's shoulders relax, the storm in his eyes clearing as he turned to Rellie. "You good?"
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Rellie's crimson eyes lingered on Towan a heartbeat longer than necessary, studying the unfamiliar sharpness still lingering in his features. "Yeah," she finally said, adjusting her grip on the teacup that had miraculously survived unscathed. "I'm alright. Thanks." Steam curled between them like a fragile barrier.
Towan exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders unwinding by degrees. "I'm glad." His fingers flexed unconsciously, still thrumming with adrenaline. "I didn't know these kinds of people were around here. I thought we were all equals." The idealism in his voice rang painfully naive, even to his own ears.
A bitter chuckle escaped Rellie's lips as she gazed into her tea, the liquid dark as old blood. "That's only on paper." Countless memories flashed behind her eyes—whispered slurs in hallways, "accidental" shoves in crowded spaces, the way professors' eyes slid past certain students during lectures. "Many low-born students fall under the eyes of bullies like him." Her fingers tightened around the cup. "Though they don't dare approach you or Elliot." She met his gaze squarely, her Essentia humming with the unspoken truth neither needed to voice—
(We've all seen what happens to those who do.)
Towan's jaw worked silently before he spat out, "I hope he stops that bullshit," the words laced with venom that surprised even himself.
Rellie merely shook her head, the motion stirring her bangs. "I don't think so." A practiced shrug. "I'm usually with Len anyway. I doubt anyone would try something with a Verestra present."
The realization hit Towan like a physical blow. "So that's how much a House's influence can change others' attitudes." The words tasted like copper pennies—the metallic tang of a truth too ugly to swallow easily.
Around them, the morning sunlight continued its indifferent path across the marble floors, illuminating dust motes that danced like tiny, carefree spirits above the weight of their conversation.
"I'm going to the cafeteria." Towan's voice lifted like the sun breaking through clouds, the earlier darkness in his tone scattering beneath practiced cheerfulness. He nudged Rellie's shoulder with his own. "Wanna come?"
"Sure." The word came easily as she fell into step beside him, their footfalls syncing naturally—boots and slippers creating an odd but harmonious rhythm against the marble.
They wove through lighthearted chatter about breakfast preferences and upcoming classes, the tension from earlier dissolving like sugar in tea—until Towan's question landed between them with unexpected weight:
"Hey Rellie...do you know anything about your family?"
Her steps didn't falter, but her crimson eyes turned glassy, staring through him as if he were a window to some painful past. "I don't remember anything well before I almost got killed." The words came detached, clinical. "You know—when my channels got destroyed and someone saved me." A bitter smile touched her lips. "My name isn't even Rellie. I made it up to have one since I forgot which one I had."
Towan's stomach dropped. "Oh...I'm sorry for asking." His fingers twitched toward her arm before thinking better of it.
"But I know I had a sister." Her voice softened, carrying the fragile hope of a dandelion seed on the wind. "I don't remember her face, not even her voice or name." Her hand rose unconsciously to her chest. "But she had the same eye color." The admission hung suspended between them. "I wish I could see her again someday."
Towan's breath caught—his mind racing with connections to crimson-eyed lineages and erased histories. His eyes widened as the realization struck him like a lightning bolt, but he bit back the words burning his tongue.
(Not yet. Not like this.)
Around them, the morning carried on undisturbed, students laughing and clattering dishes in the distance—a stark contrast to the seismic shift happening silently between two friends walking toward breakfast.
.
!
Chapter 141: What's Written On Paper
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