Chapter 16
Ilet my eyes feast on her. She’s no longer wearing her work clothes.
She’s dressed in a dark blue gown that emphasizes her trim figure.
But it’s her hair that has me mesmerized.
Usually it’s tied up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
Now her hair is unbound, cascading freely down her shoulders, its length reaching her hips.
“Nykander?” She repeats when I don’t answer.
I open my mouth and close it. This was a bad idea.
“Sorry,” I mutter and step away.
I turn, and her arm reaches out.
“You… are you all right?” She asks in a small voice.
“I…” I gulp down. I am not fine. But I’m not about to burden her with this.
I give her a tight smile and shake my head, once more turning to leave.
“Don’t go,” she whispers.
I turn to her in shock.
“Come.” She takes my hand and pulls me inside. “We can go in the back.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble..”
“There is no one here. Come.”
I let her lead me across the restaurant to the back. It’s a small room with a round table, two chair and a sink. “It’s our break room,” she explains when she sees me look around.
I grunt.
She offers me a chair, and I sit down without a word.
“I… I’ll get some food. Wait a moment.”
As she hurries out of the room, my eyes keep following her every movement. As numb as I feel inside, every single second that she’s near me elicits unknown emotions from me.
She returns juggling a plate full of food, a bowl of soup and a few slices of bread.
“This is all that was left, I hope it’s enough.”
“It’s more than enough, thank you,” I tell her sincerely.
I haven’t had real food in days, and just the sight and smell of the delicacies she brought is enough to make my stomach rumble.
She places them in front of me and invites me to eat.
Too hungry to refuse, I dig in, first eating the soup and then wolfing down all the meat and bread. When I’m done, I take a deep, satisfied breath.
On the other side of the table, she watches me with a pleasant smile, and I instantly feel guilty at my greed—I ate so fast without even saying one word.
“Thank you,” I say as I clear my throat. “You did not have to do this.”
“No, but I wanted to.” Another smile.
I gulp down uneasily.
“You don’t look well, are you sure you’re fine?”
I’m about to tell her that of course I am fine, but as I open my mouth, I end up saying, “No, I am not.”
She furrows her brows and moves her chair closer. “What happened?”
She notices my hesitation and adds, “If you can tell me, of course.”
“I…” I blink, not knowing exactly what to tell her or where to begin. “I’m not mortal.”
Her eyes widen in shock. Her hand flies to her mouth as she stares at me with different eyes.
Damn it!
Mortals and Immortals have had a strained relationship for eons; mostly because the former are used as servants and…
sources of food. So I don’t blame her for her reaction.
Instead, I’m scold myself for saying that aloud, for not hiding it a while longer so I can enjoy her friendship for a bit more time.
Even if she assumes I’m another one of the races in Tartareia capable of shapeshifting, the situation is likely as dire: all races have had a history of enslaving and exploiting humans.
Why did I have to be such an idiot?
“I’m sorry. If you’d like me to leave, I will.” I suddenly get up, realizing my blunder.
“No, no.” She gets up at the same time and stops me. “Please don’t. I…” She swallows uncomfortably. “I’ve just never met someone outside of my species so I was a bit taken aback.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Please, sit. I’d like to hear your story.” She gives me a tremulous smile.
I end up sitting back down, but I can see that her body language has changed. She’s a little tense now, more guarded. But the curtain has already been lifted. It’s not like I could have fooled her forever.
I nod and take a deep breath. “I work for the Central Administration. I’m a public servant.” I smile awkwardly.
“Oh.” She bites her lip. “Would you mind me asking how old you are?”
“I recently turned three thousand.”
“Three thousand…” she echoes. “That’s… a lot. I’ve heard of other races living a long time but I did not realize it would be this much.”
“I’m considered a new adult based on my age. My kind… We typically live thousands of years.”
She stares at me. “You’re one of… them, aren’t you?”
I immediately know what she means. Them. The rulers of Tartareia.
“I am and at the same time I’m…not. I am not that strong,” I admit ruefully. “And I’ve never preyed on people, I swear.”
“I believe you.” A genuine smile this time.
“I… Thank you.”
“But how come you’re always in the Mortal District? As far as I know, your kind never comes around here.”
“Well,” I murmur sheepishly. “It’s the books. I can only find them in the Mortal District.”
Her brows go up in surprise.
“I am an orphan,” I continue—a small lie but it might as well be the truth considering my fractured relationship with my remaining family. “I live alone in a house at the outskirts of the city. I don’t really have much to do besides reading and going to my job, and even that is very recent.”
“You have no one?”
“No.”
Silence descends between us. She looks at me with a sad expression and once more I chide myself for saying all of this. I don’t want her pity. Yet what else can she give me when pity is the only thing I have for myself too?
“You did look pretty bad when you came here for the first time. I thought your kind didn’t get sick?”
“They don’t, but I’m not…like them. I told you, I’m not particularly strong,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry if I ask too many questions, but I’m not familiar with your kind at all aside from rumors I’ve heard in the community. So when you say you’re not that strong…”
“I’m really not. I recently joined the War Department. No, no, it’s not as it sounds,” I quickly add as I see her expression fall. “We monitor warriors’ strengths to ensure they don’t abuse their power.”
She nods, then motions for me to continue.
“We had a mission in the last few days.” I take a deep breath as I tell her the core details of what happened without including any information that might be considered classified.
“When the individual came out of the Lake, he was much stronger than we thought. While we were in position for the binding ritual, the individual revealed his true form. I did not have enough time to look away so I ended up seeing it.”
Her eyes widen. “B-but… You said seeing a true form is lethal?”
“That’s what I was told. But as you can see, I’m still living.” I laugh drily. “But that doesn’t mean I’m left unscathed.”
“What do you mean?” She asks worriedly. Her hand suddenly reaches out to touch mine, and my breath hitches.
Her touch is warm, her skin so soft. For a moment all thoughts flee as I slowly bring my gaze down to where her hand is touching mine.
Something so trite… Something that for her probably doesn’t mean much.
But the way my heart beats in my chest; the way my lungs seem to constrict and my vocal cords stop working... The effect this little gesture has on me is something I’ve never experienced before.
Warmth spreads to my cheeks and my eyes become unfocused as I don’t know where to look first: at our hands, at her face, or…?
In my desperation, I end up flinching and looking at the ceiling, which makes her retract her hand.
The lack of her touch is immediately felt, but I try to ignore the disappointment in my gut. She didn’t mean it that way. She was just trying to be kind. It’s me and my messed up mind that took this the wrong way, that reacted to it like this.
I cough to regain the ability to speak, then continue, “It was like I fell into a trance. I couldn’t feel or move my body.
And in my mind, I saw all these types of images that had a big impact on me.
I don’t even know how to describe them, but I remember the feeling they left behind.
” I swallow excess saliva. “It made me feel numb…cursed. And I haven’t been able to shake this off since then,” I eventually confess the crux of the issue.
“Have you seen someone? A healer or something?”
“Yes. My body is fine. But my mind…” I shake my head.
I don’t tell her the other details about my seal or the fact that my days may be numbered. Even I haven’t come to terms fully with that. And perhaps it’s not too smart of me to tell my weakness to anyone—no matter how much I’d like her to be the only one to know.
But I’ve already told her too much. How is she going to look at me now?
Before, I was merely a friend who came to the restaurant every now and then to discuss a book with her. Now… She knows some of my deepest secrets.
She nods thoughtfully for a while before speaking, “Is that why you came here so late?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I admit shamefully.
Instead of saying something snarky—as I’d expect of most people at such a confession—she simply gets up. In a couple of steps she’s behind my chair. And before I can even react, she leans forward, placing her arms over my back, her head next to mine.
She’s… hugging me?
I freeze.
I don’t know how to react or what to do. This is more than two hands touching. Her body is so close to mine… Closer than anyone’s ever been. And I don’t know how to react.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, swelling in size as if it wants to break free. Sweat covers my forehead and my palms.
I take deep, consecutive breaths to calm myself, but it’s not working. Her proximity is too much; her smell is too much; her warmth is deadly.
“I’m glad you came here,” she whispers in my ear. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We…are?”
“Of course! I consider you my friend.”
Friends. She thinks I’m truly her friend…
I’ve never had a friend before.
She squeezes me gently—a gesture of comfort, but it does the opposite to me.
All the hairs stand up on my body. Something else does, too.
Embarrassment fills me to the brim. My neck and cheeks flame up, now a deep shade of red.
“Uh… Uhm…” I stutter as the situation becomes more urgent.
Suddenly, I stand up. She startles back, her eyes bewildered.
“Can you point me to the restroom, please?” I quickly say, not daring to meet her gaze.
“Yes, it’s the next door over—”
I don’t let her finish before I dash out of that small room and into the restroom next door. Inside, I lock the door and prop my back against it, breathing hard.
Slowly, my eyes go down my body to where something is tenting the material of my pants.
That… That’s never happened before. I may be usually ignorant of things, but I have at least read up about this and what it means.
Physiological response to excitement. Lust.
Sweat gathers over my forehead as I become more anxious by the second.
Lust. Did I lust after her? I didn’t knowingly do so, did I? Of course I consider her to be incredibly beautiful, and kind, and warm and…
I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn it! Just one hug and this happened? Do other males experience the same thing? How do they interact with other females if the smallest touch can set them off?
I inhale and exhale, hoping this will pass quickly so I can return to her.
Did she see? Does she know what happened? Why I rushed to the bathroom?
Damn it!
What will she think of me now? That I’m a lecher! A pervert!
I become more and more anxious as moments pass and the situation does not seem to resolve itself.
There is still a…big…problem in my pants.
Thinking back to all the books I read, I remember the basic mechanisms of it.
But doing that while only a wall separates me from Miss Moe doesn’t seem right.
Yet the alternative is to stay here for an indefinite amount of time until the issue resolves itself—and I have no idea how long that might take.
Undoing the buttons of my pants, I reach inside my underwear and—
A knock sounds at the door.
“Nykander? Are you all right?”
Panic overtakes me.
“I-I’m fine,” I struggle to speak. “Just a moment.”
I abandon that idea and instead go to the sink and splash cold water all over my face. Closing my eyes, I think back to the mission and everything that happened. The moment I remember those odd visions, all traces of excitement disappear.
Thank the Seven!
Finally, I exit the bathroom and come face to face with Miss Moe.
“I should probably leave. I don’t want to make problems for you.”
“Are you sure… You don’t look too good. You’re so flushed—”
“A good night’s sleep should help,” I add. “But I must thank you for your time. It helped more than you can imagine.”
At that, she finally smiles at me.
“Then I’m happy. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll come early since I’m off work for the next few days.”
With that promise between us, I leave—more like I run out of there before another accident can occur.
It’s so late, there are almost no people on the street as I head back. Only a few vagabonds loiter around, some inebriated, others drugged up.
I’m almost at the outer edge of the Mortal District when I see a humanoid figure lying on the ground. At first, I try to avert my gaze—I’ve already learned my lesson.
But as my steps become slower, I realize the male is not moving.
Frowning, I stop. Indecision weighs heavy on me. Should I check or should I walk further? Last time I tried to act, I got beat up.
I should just walk.
I take another step.
Yet I can’t bring myself to just ignore it.
Shaking my head at myself, I swivel and walk to the male on the ground.
“Hello?” I say, crouching next to him. “Are you all right?”
No answer.
My lips flatten in a thin line. I grab his arm and turn him around to check for a pulse. That’s when I see it.
His face is almost blue. Black veins spread all over his body, close to the surface of the skin. He’s unmoving, not breathing.
He’s…dead.
Damn it! That’s a pity.
But as I stand up to leave, I notice something glinting in his pocket. Curious, I reach forward and grab it.
A glass vial with blue liquid inside.
Zantrax.
Before I know it, the vial is in my pocket and I continue walking home.