“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?”
