Chapter 3
Rui
At first, the familiar sight of her schoolmates in their navy and white uniforms gave Rui some comfort. But it was short lived
as silence descended on Xingshan Academy’s main cafeteria. Everyone stopped what they were doing, craning their necks to get
a good look at their new hero. She’d forgotten it was the common break time, and the room was packed with cadets from all
levels cramming in a quick bite before their lessons.
She squirmed, unsure of where to look. She was one of the top cadets, and she’d gotten used to the attention that came with
it. But this new scrutiny had an air of unspoken expectations that was suffocating. Why was it so much easier to face a Revenant
that wanted to kill her than the curious eyes of her peers?
It was all the Guild’s fault—and Ash Song’s. They had extolled her actions at Outram, spinning a narrative that was flattering
to both their star cadet and their institution. It was an enticing story: a mere wisp of a girl saving a city. The media ran
with it, exaggerating everything as usual, and Rui had found herself elevated to some kind of savior. But the thing about
saviors and false idols placed on lofty pedestals was that their fall from grace was swift and the landing hard.
No one knew the dark truths behind her shiny new facade.
Ash had promised her a place in the Exorcist Guild in exchange for her silence about the Hybrid Revenants who had shown up
in the tunnels. It was for the greater good, he’d said. The public would panic if they knew that Revenants that looked just
like them walked their streets. Joke’s on him.
Ash himself barely knew half of what had happened that day in the tunnels.
He didn’t even know of the underworld’s existence or about the Kings.
The lies Rui had to live with—that she was a hero who’d saved the city and that Hybrid Revenants were an urban legend, that Zizi’s disappearance was an unrelated coincidence—they were all eating into her.
But she had weighed her options and made the best out of terrible circumstances. What else was there to do but to soldier
on? She couldn’t give in to despair. She was better than that. She had to be.
Ignoring the stares, she scanned the cafeteria for her friends.
“Roo-eeee, you’re back!” came a squeal from a table on the left, where Ada was flailing for attention. She was sitting with
two other seniors, Teshin and Mai.
The spell broke. The chatter and clinking of utensils resumed, and most cadets turned away. But tension lingered in the air.
Strained laughter peppered conversations, and a heaviness rested on her schoolmates’ expressions. Rui wondered if, secretly,
any of them wanted to be a normie. If, during the long dark nights lying in their dormitory beds, they ever regretted their
decision to train as Exorcists.
But it wasn’t as though the cadets at Xingshan Academy had a choice. They couldn’t lead normal lives. It was impossible when
you were born with a high level of spiritual energy. You couldn’t change your nature, and Revenants were always drawn to you.
The monstrous creatures craved yangqi, which meant people with high levels of spiritual energy were prime targets. The only
way to survive was to enroll and train and hope that your magic was enough to protect you and your loved ones.
It’s not the only way. Rui pushed the thought aside. She didn’t want to think about the underground magic community and the practitioners who were
a part of it.
She didn’t want to think about him.
Ada wrapped her up in a tight hug, and Rui realized how much she’d missed her best friend. Ada had popped by Matthias Lin’s
apartment, but her visits were brief because the senior cadets were going on regular Guild missions now.
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Ada said.
“Aren’t you still on medical leave?” Mai chimed in.
Dull anger flickered in Rui’s veins. She was only here earlier than expected because she had confronted her father about the
old photographs she’d found in his desk drawer. It had taken a while to summon the courage to bring them up.
After recuperating at home for the last month and a half, it felt like the father she’d remembered and needed had returned.
Normalcy was what she craved, and Rui wanted to cling to it. But she’d seen those photographs with her own eyes, and their
existence pestered her. They were evidence that Matthias Lin might have once cultivated his spirit core in these very same
hallowed hallways, and that at some point in his life, he could wield magic. Which made no sense, because her father’s spiritual
energy level was that of a normie now.
Last night, she’d finally asked.
Her father denied everything, and when Rui stormed into his room and yanked the desk drawers open, there were no photographs.
No evidence to throw in his face.
Your mind is playing tricks on you. You must’ve imagined it.
It wasn’t the words he’d said, or even the gaslighting. It was his tone—the insufferable concern behind the words. The guilt
in his eyes was unmistakable. He was lying. Worse, he knew that she knew he was lying. That had hurt the most.
Refusing to say another word to him, Rui had packed her bags in a pissed-off flurry. She couldn’t stay another second in her
father’s presence.
“I didn’t want to rot at home anymore,” she said to her friends now, keeping her tone light.
Teshin pushed their plate of fries toward her. “Glad to have you back.”
Rui loved all manner of potato, but her annoying brain reminded her of someone else who also loved fries. Yet another person
she didn’t want to think about. She pushed the plate back, evading the questioning look Teshin gave her.
“This means the gang’s back in business!” Mai announced, her teeth pearly white against perpetually sun-kissed skin. It seemed as though she was about to say more but stopped herself, looking uncharacteristically pensive.
Rui guessed what she was thinking. The gang wasn’t all back. They were missing a person who’d only been part of the group briefly, but whose absence was somehow disproportionately
felt. Without magic, there was no reason for Yiran to stay enrolled in the Academy, so he’d gone back to his former school.
Despite their strained relationship, it seemed like his grandfather was keeping him around instead of sending him away. Rui
wondered if that was a good thing.
Mai pulled a folder from her tote bag. “I’ve been taking candid pictures for the photo wall Ada wanted for the Winter Masquerade
Ball. I printed them out this morning, and I found this.” She spilled the folder’s contents onto the table. “I made an extra.
Thought you might want it, Rui. Here.”
Rui stared at the photograph of her and Yiran on the dormitory rooftop, leaning against the wall, the golden-hour glow of
sunset on their faces. Yiran was gesturing and laughing in a carefree manner. Rui was smirking, her face turned toward him,
leaning in as though she was sharing his joke. She remembered the moment: an impromptu rooftop barbecue with the whole gang.
Had she enjoyed Yiran’s company that much to look so at ease with him?
The photograph distorted as her vision started to blur. She blinked back the unexpected tears, angry with herself. “Thanks,
Mai,” she said, ignoring the concerned look Ada was giving her as she shoved the photo into her bag.
“Speaking of Yiran, have you seen him lately?” Ada asked Teshin. “He hasn’t returned my calls.”
“He stopped answering my texts a while ago,” Teshin replied in a clipped tone.
Mai shook her head. “It’s bizarre how his magic suddenly disappeared.”
The apple Rui was munching on tasted like cardboard.
None of her schoolmates knew what had really transpired between Yiran and her.
Her magic had been accidentally transferred to him, resulting in a strange, almost telepathic connection between them.
Yiran was able to wield magic for a while, and he’d seemed to savor it.
And when her magic returned to its rightful owner . . .
Don’t call me. Don’t look for me. I don’t ever want to see you again.
Rui hadn’t seen Yiran since that night at the hospital room where she’d been warded. She’d respected his wishes and left him
alone. But losing their empathic link, losing him . . . she hadn’t thought it would feel this bad. Her fingers crept to her
wrist. At least Yiran was still alive and in the mortal realm.
Clasping her hands together, Mai took a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay, everyone, enough of that depresso stuff. I’m sure Yiran’s
fine. Tell me about your dates to the Winter Ball!”
“I’m going alone,” Rui said, to Mai’s disappointment. The Winter Ball marked a milestone, another goalpost along their journey
to becoming full-fledged Exorcists, and every senior was excited. Rui had been looking forward to it too, aside from the awkwardly-finding-a-date-to-go-with-you
and dressing-in-a-ball-gown-that-restricted-your-movements part.
“I won’t have a date either,” Ada said, twirling her ponytail around her finger. She had gotten bored of the magenta. Her
hair was deep purple now, with her usual straight bangs, and she’d drawn a dramatic wing with matching purple eyeliner. “I’ll
be too busy running the show.”
Mai clucked her tongue. “Can’t you get your minions to do it so you can enjoy the night? You are Student Council president, and it’s practically your graduation party.”
“The juniors are not my minions.”
“They should be. Delegate, that’s what real leaders do.”
“My sister wants to go, so I’m bringing her,” Teshin piped up.
Mai raised her eyebrows.
“It doesn’t have to be a romantic date,” Ada explained. “We said plus-ones. It’s a neutral term. That way, no one feels pressured if they want to go alone or
with a friend. Technically, you could bring your mom or dad.”