Crowned - 12 | Payment Settlement!

 

CHAPTER 12

Elvira remained skeptical of the tomfoolery brewing under her name and the alleged magic associated with it. Only cold hard proof – other than Kaeo’s estranged body – could soothe either Kairo’s delusion or her troubled mind.

“I will accept it only if you take me back to the Count’s Estate,” Elvira demanded.

“Why would you want to go back to a place you were trapped in?” Kairo sighed as he leaned in and placed his elbows on the table.

A portion of food separated them. Though, surprisingly, even after being unconscious for five days, Elvira did not have the urge to scarf down the free meal.

“I need to make sure that my friends are alright,” she replied.

“You have friends?!” Kairo exclaimed, at the same time as Kaeo banged his fist over the table.

“I knew it! You were the one who caused the fire!” he rejoiced.

Elvira and Kairo turned to face at Kaeo, who was busy scarfing down breakfast on the opposite end of the table.

“I was trying to save my friend,” Elvira mumbled and let her head hang.

“Arsonist,” Kaeo supplied, “You’re truly one of us.”

“I cannot believe you made new friends…” Kairo sighed, “I spent five years trying to locate you and you were busy forging fresher bonds…I halted my research on Linch Blood because I wanted to complete it with you…” his words faded into a whisper.

“Woah,” Elvira gasped and backed into the cushioned chair, “That is so nice of you. I didn’t even know that you were real…I never tried escaping because,” her voice cracked, “because I had no home to go back to. At least I had people I cared for, back at the Estate,” Elvira sniffled.

“You were our first friend,” Kairo mumbled, “Of course I would never give up on you, like you did not give up on Kaeo.”

Teary-eyed Elvira and a pouting Kairo turned to face Kaeo. The ravenette paid no heed to them as he was busy shoving rolls down his throat.

Elvira grimaced at the sight.

“Can you leave me back at the Estate?” Elvira asked again, turning to Kairo.

“Can I come along? I want to see these friends of yours,” Kairo narrowed his eyes at the food, ‘I want to see which friends would let Elvira be abused on the regular and still be worth a second thought.’ he thought.

He stood up and with a snap of his fingers, a magic circle appeared under his feet. “Let’s go, I’ll protect you this time,” he said as he held out a hand for Elvira.

The brunette got out of her chair and walked around the table to stand by Kairo’s side.

It was Kaeo who took Kairo’s hand instead, “Leffs goh, brafa!” (Let’s go, brother!) he exclaimed with a mouth full of food as he stepped over the circle.

“Why is he going?” Elvira frowned.

“Gof sum payments to settle,” Kaeo brushed her off.

Kairo passed her a sheepish smile before snapping his fingers.

To say Elvira missed this magic would be an understatement. In no more than a second, they were halfway across the nation and inside the Count’s Estate without the hassle of travelling or showing identification involved. 

Elvira made a mental note to ask Kairo about the rules of Teleportation Magic because there was no logical way for them to be standing inside the East Wing Hallway without him ever having visited it.

“You stay here, I’ll go,” Elvira whispered and stepped out of the circle.

Instantly, Kaeo pushed past them and walked ahead.

Frowning, Elvira took two longer steps to walk ahead of him.

The ravenette scowled and jogged past her in order to be at the front.

By the end of the hallway, Elvira and Kaeo were squabbling like children competing to walk past a door.

Kairo, willingly behind them, shook his head in utter disappointment.

Elvira elbowed Kaeo and walked through the door first, frowning at how silent the Estate was. This time around, maids should have been busy cleaning the window crevices and dusting the doorknobs and hinges.

Kaeo swore under his breath. “First you poach my magic and now you attack me ever so violently!” he seethed in her ear.

Elvira paid no heed to his words for her eyes caught sight of Sinclair walking toward the Count’s meeting room. Elvira ran up to her side, panting, as she called out her name.

The butler’s assistant turned to face the voice and her eyes widened at the sight before her. Instinctively, her feet shuffled backwards and her grip on the tray in her hands loosened. The ovular metal fell to the floor, its thunder echoing in the silent hallway.

“E-e-elvira?” Sinclair gasped.

“Sinclair,” Elvira stated bluntly.

“Y-you are alive…as well…?” Sinclair raised a finger to point at her face.

Kaeo and Kairo walked up to Elvira’s side, which cued a scandalized Sinclair to back into the charred walls.

“A-angels of death! Has my time come?!” Sinclair wailed, backing into a corner. Her mouth quivered and her eyes barely held Elvira’s gaze.

“Sinclair, are you okay? It is me, Elvira, I did not die—is anyone else dead? What happened to Clary?” Elvira asked, stepping in front of Sinclair.

Sinclair furrowed her brows, scrutinizing Elvira’s face. When her assessment deemed Elvira worthy, Sinclair stuttered out a response.

“O-oh, you, you disappeared, everyone thought you died…and Clary, um…Clary is sort of gone…?”

“Gone?”

Tears overwhelmed her eyes but Elvira could only blink them away. A tear slid past her cheek and caught a glimpse of sunlight. It sparkled like the crystal shards rushing towards her, all those nights ago, when Clary pushed her out of the window.

Clary saved her.

Sinclair picked up the metal tray, “Come with me,” she said as she grabbed Elvira’s wrist and led her into the meeting room.

A scowling Kaeo and frowning Kairo followed.

The meeting room was where Count Aramia hosted the commonfolk to hear out their grievances. It was a room on the farthest west of the estate, with its own entry and exit-ways for the commoners. The detached nature of the hall would be the only reason why it survived the massive fire.

A wall of maid-backs greeted them upon entrance. Like the rest of the estate, the meeting room was also a picture of glazed hardwood, antique furniture and tapestries. The commoners had an entry door on the far left, in front of which Elvira spotted Yuna and Lira. Her eyes widened as she followed their line of sight; horror struck her gaze as she backed into a hard chest. Her nostrils flared and squirmed while her ears were assaulted by the screams of agony.

On the small elevated stage at the end of the room were two gold carved chairs, designated for the Count and Countess. Since Count Aramia was unmarried, the smaller throne chair remained empty.

Until a few days ago.

“Is…is that what I see it is?”

Sinclair nodded.

“A-aren’t they supposed to be…?” Elvira frowned.

“A decade ago,” Sinclair replied, her tone equally chill.

For, on the thrones, were seated two people whom Elvira had only seen in pictures before. Their portraits were in the Count’s office, Elvira remembered glancing upon them everytime she cleaned. The pointy chin and upturned moustache of the beady eyed former Count and the triangular face and hooked nose of the former Countess.

Elvira could not believe her eyes when they substituted the people from the pictures on the throne chair.

The dead Count and Countess were sitting on the throne chairs, smirking, with an evil glint in their eye as—

Elvira clutched her heart.

It was Clary.

She was standing beside the Countess, dressed in a shiny black suit, wielding a whip in her right hand. She struck the whip against the ground and a shaggy haired man, curled up on the ground, whimpering.

“Told you, Clary is gone.”

The whip wielding, curly-blonde haired and newly dark eyed Clary burst into a hearty laughter.

“Yeah…well…”

Am I still dreaming?

Elvira couldn’t make sense of reality anymore. All of Count Aramia’s household staff stood in attendance, witnessing the shaggy haired man being whipped while the supposedly dead Count, Countess and Clary, bellowed in mirth.

“They’ve been doing this ever since the day after Salary Day. Head Butler suddenly called everyone here and we witnessed Helif going mad over his parents standing in front of him. Now they do this every morning, whip him in front of everyone, that is. The maids seem to enjoy it a lot.” Sinclair explained.

“Oh? So, he is the one who has been causing me misery,” Kaeo grunted.

Elvira felt a shove before Kaeo walked past her and she came to an embarrassing realisation that she had been leaning against him all this while. She cursed under her breath as Kaeo made his way through the crowd of maids.

“Count, Countess,” he greeted as soon as he was within sight, tone cold and hard.

The nobility passed him a nod of acknowledgement.

“May I?” Kaeo asked.

The old Count nodded, his mouth pushing up in a grin.

“May I what? What? Do dead people have telepathy? The dead people stare-understanding?!” Elvira whispered into Kairo’s ear, exasperated by the whole scenario.

“Your guess may be better than mine, it’s your magic after-all,” Kairo shrugged.

Elvira rolled her eyes and Kaeo grabbed the shaggy haired man by his tattered collar.

“Helif Aramia?” he questioned, looking him in the eye.

“I-I am the COUNT! D-do not say my name, y-you peasant,” the man spat blood, “You are all being fooled by these impo—”

He couldn’t continue for Kaeo’s fist met his face. Elvira spotted a sapphire blue magic circle over his knuckles, aiding the impact of his hits, and her breath hitched. He was Kaeo.

A more…unhinged version though, Elvira realised, grimacing while Kaeo shoved punch after punch into the slender man.

“The young man seems impassioned,” the Countess remarked from her throne chair.

“All well-deserved,” Clary scoffed and threw the whip towards Kaeo, “Use it as you please.”

Kaeo picked up the whip and began wrapping it around Helif’’s neck when Elvira shouted, “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”

 

Crowned - 11 | Death pulls a real number on us

 CHAPTER 11

The man scoffed at the cold avoidance of the girl who had been siphoning his magic for the past five years, rendering him almost incapable in battlefield.

He was about to grab her hand and pull her back when the sudden exclamation of her name caused her to trip over her own shaky feet. He rolled his eyes, astounded over how she was still alive.

The girl looked up, her eyes widened and the umbrella fell to the floor. Her heart thundered in her ears as she faced the familiar features of Kairo, smiling at her from a distance. She recognised him instantly – the brilliant jade eyes, the curly blonde hair, the lean erudite build and a bright smile greeting her.

No way he was real – alive and breathing, standing in front of her.

“Kairo?” Elvira mumbled, frowning at the sound of her own voice.

“Brilliant! You win a hug!” Kairo exclaimed and ran up to her.

Upon seeing him up close, tears ran down Elvira’s face. “I th-thought, I thought you were-- where were you? I thought I dreamt it all up! I thought you didn’t exist!” Elvira burst into wails, broken and hoarse. Her chest heaved and shoulders fluttered up and down until Kairo wrapped his arms around her.

Her pulled her into an embrace and ran a soothing hand over her back, “Everything will be fine now, you’re safe.” He whispered as she sobbed into his shirt.

Behind her, Kaeo raised a scowl. Kairo flipped a middle finger to his face.

“W-w-what happened to Kaeo? How did you escape? Where have you been? Are you okay?” Elvira spat questions in between sniffles.

“I’m standing right behind you,” the man snapped upon being mentioned.

Elvira stiffened in Kairo’s arms and the blonde noticed the sudden switch.

“It’s okay, you should eat something, sit down and I’ll explain everything. Kaeo is very much alive, all thanks to you, Elvira.” Kairo sneaked a magic circle under her feet which allowed her to float beside him.

“Because of me?” Elvira asked, frowning. She turned to catch a glimpse of the man behind them and flipped as soon as she witnessed his dark scowl. “You must be mistaken, he is dead,” she mumbled.

Her petulant pout birthed a chuckle in Kairo.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve wanted me dead over these five years,” Kaeo scoffed, yet, his feet followed as Kairo led them toward the dining hall.

“You, Elvira, are highly misunderstood about yourself. You do have magic but it isn’t one of the four established types, maybe that is why you failed your Awakening. I have been researching but I don’t think I understand exactly how your magic works— or what its scope is. But yeah, you can technically, sort of, bring the dead back to life…?” Kairo smiled with clenched teeth.

Elvira blinked at him.

Turned to frown at the man following them.

Then, she slapped herself.

“Woah! Woah, stop!” Kairo exclaimed at the same time as Kaeo, mumbled, “Shit that stings,” under his breath.

“I must be dreaming. This is a dream. I have to wake up and see if Clary is okay, wake up, wake up, wake up—” Elvira muttered as she closed her eyes and patted her arms, chanting, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

“Elvira!” Kairo snapped and grabbed a hold of her hands, “You are not asleep! This is reality,” he said as he teleported them outside, over the castle roof, to let her view the morning sun – much to Kaeo’s distaste, who was left behind frowning at thin air.

Elvira gasped, “This is how dreams work, we shift and jump from one place to another, nothing makes sense!” she exclaimed and looked up, grinning at him with widened hollow eyes.

Kairo couldn’t help but laugh at Elvira’s logical exasperation.

“See the world around you, it is breathing, alive, thrumming with power,” Kairo said as he opened his arms in front of the rising sun, “Do it, close your eyes and feel the warmth.”

Reluctantly, still believing it to be a dream, Elvira spread out her arms and closed her eyes.

“Inhale the scent of your world.”

Elvira sucked in an elongated breath. The sun felt real against her skin and her lungs were whelmed of fresh North Hill air. Her moment of serenity lasted until, her skin started burning under the direct light – a side effect of Kindlers’ bites – and Elvira, for the first time, felt grateful towards them.

“Magic is all around us but we only have the ability to harness it from within us. Enhancer Types, especially Induced, are at the lowest tier because they keep their magic within themselves. They use it to enhance their own self and have no magical impact on the outer world. Unless, they are able to up-class into a Type II.”

Birds chirped in agreement and a soft gale danced around them. The prickling sensation grounded her to reality.

“Next in line are Enhancer Type II: The Projectors, who are able to lend their power to the world in order to enhance its attributes. They are able to make flowers bloom, calm a turbulent mind, accelerate healing, alter gravity...their mind is the limit.”

Elvira nodded. She knew all that. Zinna was an Enhancer Type II Mage.

“The Conjurors harness their magic into spells. They learn ancient languages to create special spells and use their magic to implement them. The juvenile mages have to write each spell in real time or have a pre-written spell card in order to quick cast. But mages of higher class, like me, are able to store our spell cards, in our finger tips. Each spell has their own special gesture to be activated and used. We harness our magic for external use.”

Elvira’s skin was burning and this reality was droning on. It felt like a high school class, all over again.

“Alchemy type mages are alike Conjuror mages in a way that, instead of creating their own spells, they invent and innovate materials to aid their magic. It can be a wand, a healing pin, a vial of potion...anything that their mind desires, their magic can make it work. They harness their magic for external, material, use.”

Alchemy Type mages were very rare to come across, Elvira knew.

“Lastly, there are the Elementals. They lend magic from the world around them and mould it according to the magic within them. That is why some can wield a fire, move mountains, break open the ground or part seas.”

Elvira remembered Danzel clearing up the skies at her Awakening.

“Your magic, the world lends it to you. The very atmosphere around you is charged and willing but something within you is not letting it in. So, it works externally, at its own will, when it deems its owner desperate enough. When Kaeo was dying, your magic caught onto your desperation and intervened with the force of life. It’s like you are not harnessing it but commanding it. It’s uncalled for, impossible even, yet, it has happened twice and I have seen it with my very own eyes.”

“Twice?”

“Yes. The magic around you is loyal. It bonds you with all whom it affects, I believe, so it can trace a path back to you. That is what it did with Kaeo and you. It bonded him to you as a form of…redemption? I don’t quite understand, but, because Kaeo is a higher-class mage, your magic has been siphoning his in order to sustain the hollow within you. Maybe it is a form of payback? I don’t know. But that was how you survived the Kindler attack. Kaeo’s Induced healing has been a null ever since you brought him back. Your magic is actively using him to shield you from harm.”

“I seem to have an awful sort of magic…” Elvira scoffed.

“Precisely why you are in a wedding dress! Once you get married to him, your Stars will align and hopefully the magic will stabilise itself!”

“Marriage?!” Elvira snapped, opening her eyes.

“Hopefully?!” Kaeo snapped, having finally caught up to them. He stood on the roof, scowling at the girl in front.

“I am not marrying anybody! I do not believe a bloody thing you’re on about!” Elvira shrieked.

Kaeo rolled his eyes and scoffed, “As if I want to,” he spat. “See?” he looked up at a scowling Kairo, “It won’t work. Let’s just kill her instead.”

“Woah—what!?”

“Kaeo! No!” Kairo snapped then apologetically turned to Elvira, “Don’t mind him, death and constant power-loss has made him into an awful sort of person. He was used to feeling powerful and better than everyone else…but the past five years have been tough on him, mentally and physically.”

“And that is my problem…?” Elvira frowned, not believing Kairo one bit. How could she have magic? She felt hollow, weak and human. But…his story did explain why she survived the Kindlers.

“Oh? So, you won’t even take responsibility after using me for so long?!” Kaeo shouted, baffled by the causal disrespect.

“You’re nothing like the Kaeo I knew!” Elvira shouted back.

“That’s because he died on D’amar Square!”

“Exactly my point! You’re an imposter!”

“Kai, I am going to kill her myself—” Kaeo lunged at them but Kairo was swift enough to snap his fingers and teleport Elvira away.

They reached the Dining Hall and Kairo let out a nervous chuckle as Elvira glared at him. “Death pulls a real number on us, eh?” he laughed.

Crowned 7 - Facing the Music.

 

Elvira let go of the utensils and immediately ran up to Clary’s side for washing her hands.

Clary, numbed to a stand-still, let herself be pushed to the side while Elvira washed her hands.

“We must go,” Yuna declared, only for Clary to shake her head vehemently.

“I—I don’t think I can go…” Clary whispered, her gaze stuck on the vegetables in front.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to force yourself…” Elvira whispered while patting Clary’s back, “You don’t have to go.”

“B-but, Lira…” Clary sniffled, brows joined together and lips in an upside-down frown.

“Not everyone has to be brave, not at the cost of yourself,” Elvira smiled.

Yuna nodded as she hastened towards the door, “It’s alright Clary, we understand. Let’s go, Elvi.”

Elvira left one last reassuring pat on Clary’s back before jogging out of the kitchen. Clary stared at their backs before nodding to herself, “I’ll manage their chores here,” she said, flaring her nostrils. She wanted to go…she wanted to help Lira, but her body stiffened at the thought of being near to any of Helif’s parties.

The mere word shot her seven years back, when she was the newest collection in Helif’s basement. She remembered his leering gaze running over her body as he brandished her in front of a table full of grinning men and women.

A band of musicians played slow music behind her as she was forced to step on the table, clad in a short frilly dress and serve the nobility all night long. Glass after glass of burning liquids were poured down her throat until she was delirious enough to forget all sense. She did not know what happened to her as the lazy piano keys turned into chirping of the morning birds.

All she remembered was waking up on the table, unclothed and hurting all over.

Clary clenched her teeth as she went back to washing the vegetables, praying in her heart that Lira would not have to face the same fate as Yuna and her.

In the hallway, Elvira said, “I will go outside, you should alert the head butler.”

“The head butler? Even the laundry maid could care less when it comes to people like us,” Yuna scoffed.

Elvira could only grit her teeth in agreement.

“I’ll distract them, you search for Lira and run, yeah?” Elvira proposed.

Yuna sighed as she nodded. Ever since Elvira had arrived, five years ago, she had been taking the falls for Clary and Yuna. Every time the Count would want to corner Clary or Yuna, Elvira would jump in, get hit or be horribly degraded as distraction.

A while ago, Yuna had confronted Elvira about it, only to receive the reply, “I don’t mind, I have nothing to lose anyway.”

When she saw Elvira running out of the glass doors, leading to the Garden and Gazebo, without looking left or right to care for what’s coming – Yuna could only clench her teeth.

Elvira wasn’t brave, she realised, Elvira just did not consider herself as a person worth consideration.

Her hasty steps over the grass were a stark comparison to Yuna’s careful ones. She ran boldly, shoulders squared and head held high while Yuna crouched behind tall grass, shoulders curled and keen eyes stalking the shadows of the night.

 Elvira scowled as spotted Lira standing beside a grinning Count Amaria. He had his hand over the small of Lira’s back, fingers gently caressing her squirming waist. He was about to introduce Lira to the party in the Gazebo, when Elvira jumped in.

“Milord! You haven’t introduced me to your friends!” she grinned and lodged herself under Count Amaria’s arm, elbowing Lira out of her way, “Why are you wasting your time on new scum when you can have all of experienced me?” she giggled, fanning her face.

“Ugh, this girl!” Count Amaria scowled as he pushed her out of his arms, “Don’t you know your place?!”

“I do, master,” Elvira grinned and dropped to his feet. “Won’t you keep me for your friends, master?” she faked a mewl, fluttering her eyes at the grinning crowd. Thankfully, she had chosen to wear a high-collared, full sleeved servant outfit with her uniform stockings and shoes.

“No—get away, you’re hideous,” Count Amaria bellowed and tip-toed to look for Lira. “Where’s the pretty one gone?”

Unbeknownst to him, Yuna had carried Lira inside.

“Why look for the pretty one? She’ll cry and whine, be reluctant all night long,” Elvira jumped up to stand in the Count’s face. “I’m better,” she winked and walked up to a guest, “I can be very entertaining,” she whispered as she ran a hand over the guest’s chest, nearing his abdomen, she said, “You can test me.”

“I like this one!”

“Yeah, she seems fun!”

“Forcing isn’t enjoyable. She’s so willing, she’d do it all sober.”

Elvira winked at the guest who praised her.

Count Amaria sighed as he took a seat at the head of the table, “You folks do not understand,” he pressed his lips in a line, “She’s hideous all over.”

Elvira merely blinked flirtatiously.

“It’s okay, I like her face. She could do it all clothed, wouldn’t you, slave?”

Elvira fluttered her eyes and acted coy, “Why not? My bite grooves will only stimulate you.”

“Bite marks!” a guest exclaimed, leaning onto the table, he urged, “Show us.”

“They’re…” Elvira giggled, “They’re quite harsh.”

The crowd roared into laughter while Count Amaria rolled his eyes.

“Kinky lass.”

“How harsh?”

“Show me all of your marks, slave.”

Elvira obliged as she slowly rolled her sleeves. The slow piano and saxophone took over the silence as a dozen of depraved gazes waited for her to expose herself.

As soon as both her sleeves were above her elbows, Elvira raised her hands for all to see.

Instantly, the men began coughing, whispering and evading gazes.

“They’re not bad, just Kindler bites. You know them? Creatures of the dark! Their bite spreads their cause but somehow, I survived!” Elvira grinned.

The piano and the saxophone escalated into a giddy pace as people began shuffling backwards.

“Don’t back away, my saliva only hurts on a full moon,” she bluffed.

Instantly, everyone’s heads flipped to look at the two moons in the sky. One of them was a full moon and the other a crescent.

“G-um, just serve us drinks. Be—”

“Better yet, leave us be. We had something important to discuss tonight, did we not, Count Amaria?”

“Indeed, we did,” the Count sighed as he glared at the back of Elvira’s head, “The Northern Plains have been subjuga—why are you still here? Leave.”

“Yes, Milord!” Elvira exclaimed, a little too happily. She was about to run away when a cold voice halted her.

“Hold up, I can still entertain you all with her. Since she interrupted us, she has to pay a price.”

Elvira gulped, clenching her jaw, she turned back to face Count Amaria. His dark eyes caught a glint of the lanterns and gleamed deviously.

For as long as his soiree lasted, Elvira’s screams were the supporting vocals to their background music. Right outside the gazebo, Count Amaria had Elvira kneeled over the prickly grass while one of the guards lashed her back.

Guests drank, shouted, sang and were eventually taken away by their servants. Count Amaria too was taken inside, before his drunk mumbling could ruin public relations or reveal national secrets. All the while, Elvira laid on the damp grass, pricking and soothing her gashed back. The lasting notes of the music were heavy companionship along with the stars and the two moons.

The universe was so silent…or maybe it was screaming, like her, and nobody was paying attention.

The next day, the sun would rise and everything would stay the same. Her smiling face, the sparkling pond, the jumping fishes, the breezy garden, they would all stay the same.

“Some days…I’m grateful my scars exist.” Elvira informed the sky. A smile graced her face which eventually turned into a grin as she spotted her birth star twinkling. “Ah…Mirai, you cheeky traitor.”

“Elvi? Is that you?”

Elvira sat up and winced at the suddenness of her own actions. She groaned before replying, “Ye-ah, I’m here, Clary, it’s all clear.”

The girl jumped out of distant bushes, her blonde head glowing under moonlight. She ran up to Elvira’s side with a box of medicines in her hand.

“Was I that loud?” Elvira grimaced.

Clary rolled her eyes as she kneeled beside her friend, “I’m sure the entire empire heard it.”

Elvira seethed as Clary unzipped her dress and pulled the fabric off her body.

“Do you have any sense of self-preservation?” Clary scoffed sternly.

“My apologies, your highness, I shall do better next time,” Elvira joked.

“Wrong answer!” Clary exclaimed at the bloody sight of Elvira’s back, “There should be no next time!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Clary applied ointment over Elvira’s scarred back, cringing and wincing every time Elvira did.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked, apologetically.

“Surprisingly, not so much,” Elvira grinned.

 

Because, a continent away, a blue-eyed boy writhed in pain.

“Is it hurting still?” the boy beside him asked.

The boy in bed shot up and scowled, his face shadowed by the darkness of the room, “It freaking feels like I was lashed!”

ill timed — 4

the ill timing of smug adults — chapter 4

Mr. Plod's scream was loud enough to breach the walls of Crestmoore Elite, reach his ancestors' graves and echo off of them. 

"Get off me, you little pest!" Mr. Plod announced, chubby hand pressed against the little girl's freckled forehead and pushing hard against it. Her teeth clutched tighter, his small fingers let go of their hostages, Kairos scrammed with wide eyes and a hung jaw, Yasin backed away with a hand against his mouth and tears in his eyes. Tears of disbelief. 

When all saw crises, Henrik Stratford saw opportunity.  

Henrik, baffled beyond belief but very amused, stepped over Headmistress Lissy's wingback chair and jumped over the scene of action. Headmistress Lissy banged her hand against her desk, shouting, "This is a place of discipline! stop this raging buffoonery right away!"

No one paid heed to her. 

Henrik, trying all his rich-boy-luck, stood behind the little girl and poked her sides right over her wais-tbone. 

"EEYAAP!" she screamed with raw terror.

Upon instinct, she jumped away, releasing Mr. Plod's now wet and very red, marked arm, and fell back. Henrik, very swiftly this time, dogged her body and pulled a flustered Kairos as collateral damage. 

The girl fell over Kairos Rodrigo, head and back saved from impact by the Persian carpets spread over Headmistress Lissy's office floors. Limbs tangled, Henrik grinned, a boxy wide smile of fresh revenge, over the groaning bodies of the distressed duo and turned to face an equally distressed trio.

Yasin had Mr. Plod's arm in his hand, very daintily blowing over the fresh, wet, cuts, looking almost motherly with his concern, "Sh… it gets better, it'll be okay, don't you worry, it'll be fine, sir," while Headmistress Lissy was having a whole mental breakdown over her ruined carpets, "My dollars, my pretty sheep's wool—it was hand woven! I fed her—my- silks-!"

The trash-girl bared her teeth at Kairos, kicked him away and stood up. The poor boy clutched his gut and did not even pretend to make any attempts to scrape off his dead dignity and try stand up again. He curled on the carpets, folding his hands close to his chest, but the garbage stench emanating from them made him give up all over again and flinch away from himself. There was a 'do not disturb, i am mourning," sign spiritually plastered on everyone's face at that moment. 

To say that Henrik was satisfied enough for incurring loss to all parties involved would be an understatement. His mind went, 'Ha! If I get puked on, you all take that!" 

The trash-girl had walked up to Yasin, who was fanning over Mr. Plod, and pushed them apart. Standing between the two, she turned to face red-faced-Mr. Plod with her equally furious brown eyes, pointing an accusatory finger at his chubby chin as she enunciated each word with entitled precision, "You will not hurt him! You will not punish him! You will no—"

For a proper second, Yasin's breath was struck right out of his lungs. Then, his braincells acted with cohesion. 

Her demands were cut off my Yasin's hand slithering over her mouth and holding her still as Mr. Plod, who had had enough indignity for a day, spoke up, "You! Who are you?! How dare you little pest disrupt the discipline of Crestmoore Elite! How dare you disrespect me and my orders! I will have your parents called! I will have this slander reported to media! All of you! Crestmoore shall know what hooligans will next inherit her! I am going to ruin all of you!"

His words hit like an ancient gong.

Kairos curled into himself again, hugging his hands to his chest now; breaths laboring and eyes clenching shut upon Mr. Plod's threats. Henrik gulped a shaky breath, fear growing his hands cold. Yasin's hand dropped from the girl's mouth and rested around her shoulders as he started pressing his thumbnail against the skin of his fingers. Over and over. 

"Mr. Plod Danderdan! You will do no such thing that brings shame upon Crestmoore Elite! Do I make myself clear?!" Headmistress Lissy stood up, ceasing the threats with her spine chilling, authoritative, voice that left no room for further discussion. Her molten gold eyes stared Mr. Plod down to a mush. 

Mr. Plod's beady eyes stared down at the furious looking littlegirl, still held back in Yasin's arms, and went back to Headmistress Lissy. His pride had taken a hit upon being denied of his authority in front of children. Rich brats. "Detention, for the whole year, graveyard shift with Mr. Turner," Mr. Plod's words were dripping with vehemence and restrained cooperation, "And I will be calling their families myself. They have the right to know." 

A collective round of sighs were passed around the office. 

"Very well, but it is Mr. Rodrigo's first day at Crestmoore," Headmistress Lissy's golden eyes whisked over her lavish furniture only to find Kairos springing up, from the floor, upon mention. His face had lost all color, so had Henrik and Yasin's, upon the mention of word reaching out to their families.  

"Yes…Ma'am?" Kairos' words were a question, his fingers were twisting a battle amongst themselves and the tightness of his jaw conveyed a lot to Headmistress Lissy's trained eyes. 

"That does not lets him off—"

Headmistress Lissy's hand stopped Mr. Plod from creating further argument. "What were you doing around East Crest when the morning assembly takes place in the West Crest?" Headmistress Lissy questioned the ravenette. 

"I—uh, I, um, was heading to the um—canteen? ...Cafeteria? Luncheon? C-ca-"

"--Crest Dining Hall," Henrik helpfully supplied. 

"Yes! The dining hall, crest I mean, for bread. I feel nauseous if I don't eat breakfast before starting my day—I, um, I am sorry I should have waited!" Kairos finally finished his statement and bent ninety degrees in apology. 

"Wow, you really don't waste time, do you?" the little girl cheekily interjected. 

Seven pairs of eyes glared at her. 

She shrugged out of Yasin's hold in response and smiled. Her smile was wide, her lips were parted with no dignity and her eyes were crinkled with a humorous kindness in them, Kairos noticed. 

She, standing in her stained-shirt, dirty skirt, torn stockings, shoeless, with mousy brown hair a mess. Smiling, carelessly, as if doing whatever her heart told her to do was the only socially accurate response to life. How… foolish. 

In that moment, Kairos Rodrigo realized a very important detail by himself: No amounts of fresh clothes, elaborate backgrounds, titles, gelled hair or pleasant curtsies of his world could amount to a genuine person's confidence from the otherworld. It takes a whole world of lavishes to break him but not make him. 

 

It's sad. Kairos Rodrigo realised that he was a sad person when people were glaring at trash-girl for making fun of him. He's sad alright.

"There will be no phones disturbing Minister Rodrigo from his duty, very well then, off you go, Kairos, to attend the orientation ceremony," Headmistress Lissy cleared out, much to everyone else's distaste. The ravenette was overjoyed, nonetheless of his epiphany. 

Kairos all but jumped up in a flurry of 'Thank You's and 'I am sorry's as the boy slid his way out of the office and politely shut the door behind him. Begrudgingly, Henrik smiled a small smile for his friend. 

"What about Yasin? You gonna go do this to him? He only helped me out--!" the littlegirl began with desperation in her eyes. 

"Please take this girl to Crest Lab, run some scans and find out if she is lying or not. I shall report this to the Sheriff in a while. He'll know what to do with her." Headmistress Lissy gestured her assistants to make a move. Mr. Plod smirked a smug smirk as the little girl tried holding onto Yasin but was pushed away by the blonde boy with bitterness in his eyes. 

The assistants sneaked their arms underneath the betrayed-looking-girl's underarms, raised her resistant body over their shoulders and carried her dangling self out of the office. 

Henrik rolled his eyes. 

"Very well, Mr. Hadid, I must say I did not expect you to be involved in something like this," Headmistress Lissy settled back in her chair and crossed her arms against her chest, scrutinizing Yasin's lanky and scared form. The little blondette assumed posture, folding his hands behind his back before proceeding with explanations.  

"I was at Soccer practice this morning, Headmistress Lissy. Michael kicked the ball too hard and it went out of the field, hitting a trashcan. He was afraid of being reprimanded so I ran to collect the ball in lieu of him. I was simply doing a mate a favor when I saw the trashcan rolling over with actual, human, legs jutting out of it! And there were screams! Imagine my surprise...!"

"We all do," Henrik chided under his breath.

"... I saw Mr. Rodrigo running after it; I was quite frankly very surprised. I remained unacquainted with Mr. Rodrigo at that point of time and merely thought it was a student trying to bullying someone. Hence, I stepped in to help. I remain corrected, of course, for Mr. Rodrigo and Henrik were merely trying to help as well." 

Henrik Stratford raised an eyebrow at the speaking blonde, wondering when they got on first name bases with Yasin Hadid of all people. Nevertheless, Henrik was impressed by Yasin's eloquent reiteration of their eventful morning. Unfortunately, Henrik too had to save his arse and come out in a good light before someone called his parents. So, he would have to, pretty deliberately, soil Yasin's plans. 

There was a sharp twinge of evil in Henrik Stratford's soft brown eyes before he assumed position and started with his impositions. 

"I would hate to interrupt, Miss Head Ma'am, but you see I am merely a victim of circumstances and ill fated friends. You see, Kairos discovered the body—the girl, whatever, and Yasin saved her or whatever—I was merely a bystander of the circumstance." Henrik smiled a smug smile, clearing out his name would be easy.

"They all lie, Headmistress, all of them ran when they saw me! They were clearly brewing some notoriety up," an aggravated Mr. Plod couldn't help but speak up.

"Correction, Mr. Plod Sir, I was very much vomited upon and furious about my lost and very expensive perm. I was very much there. Can't say the same about the other two…"

Yasin, scoffing out loud, eyes going wide at the pure accusatory tone, jumped, vocally, to defend himself, "It was merely an instinct of being misunderstood and receiving punishment!"

"Said every defaulter ever, yes, Miss Head Ma'am, I rest my case here," Henrik smiled, turning around to point at his vomit covered head and showing it clearly, "Damage to private property has occurred and the incompetence of Crestmoore's security system is responsible. I would like you to compensate me by dropping all detention charges on me, effective henceforth."

In a school ran on the terms of adults, where the students were treated as adults, there was no other way but to tackle it like an adult. 

Yasin's fist clenched, unclenched, bit the insides of his cheeks, then folded his hands behind his back again. Henrik was the son of the two most successful lawyers the world would have ever seen— there was no use countering his tactics. Yasin's family was good and honest, not fuelled by illegal activities like the Stratfords. They would always be incomparable.

Headmistress Lissy, upon receiving the outrageous but very accurate allegation of her school's incompetence, stared Henrik down as if he were a piece of filth and picked up the white hand phone resting over her desk. She pressed a button and spoke into it, "I want the security footage of the last twenty-four hours delivered to me. Instantaneously."

Henrik, proud of his argument and ignorant of his involvement in the case by the photograph he had clicked, seated himself on one of the wingback chairs. 

"Mr. Plod, don't you need to get that checked by the nurse?" Headmistress Lissy questioned coldly. Mr. Plod shook his head.

"I will wait for justice to be served. I want to call all of their houses using the Headmistress' phone," Mr. Plod scornfully replied. Yasin's gut dropped precisely how his company's shares would when the news gets out.  

But before Headmistress Lissy could counter Mr. Plod's bold statement, her office doors banged open and in rushed her assistant with a tablet in her hand. 

"Mademoiselle! We ran her prints…and I think you should see this!"

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