In the first house, I passed an old man. A human, it seems. He greets me with a smile and a warm hello. He's watering his garden with a hose, connected to a faucet next to his house's white walls.

Then, I continued my walk, and passed another old man. Watering his garden with a flow of water from the tip of his finger. He greets me with a smile and the same warm hello as the previous gentleman. 

To me, I don't see any difference. Just two grandpas tending their gardens. But not everyone would see it that way.

The human had his hose hooked to a faucet, water bill included. The arcane simply pointed, streams spilling neatly from his fingers. 

It was such a tiny scene, yet even that was enough to remind me why the Shanan Republic has been a battlefield of words since its founding.

And why I’ve never shown my Gift unless I was forced to.

What’s wrong with wanting to just be another middle schooler?

“That old-fashioned reason won’t keep you afloat forever,” Val said, plopping down across from me.

Lunch break. Usually, we’d be talking about games or shows. But today’s silence—Rina avoiding us, drifting away with her own friends—dragged the mood somewhere else.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

With a pop, he tore open the plastic on his bread. “How many people wanna be you?”

He said it casually, chewing between words. That was his style. He loves turning heavy things into light jokes.

“As Theodore Morgan,” I asked, “or as an arcane?”

“Arcane.”

But I swallowed it back, because that answer clashed with everything I’d believed in.

Arcanes are human. A Gift is just an ability. 

Deep down, we’re all the same.

And yet… if that’s what I truly believe, why have I worked so hard to look ordinary? Why did I try so desperately to be more human? Isn’t human and arcane the same? Doesn’t that mean, somewhere inside, I’ve already admitted that arcanes aren’t the same as humans after all?

And doesn’t that make me the only one who doesn’t want to be arcane?

Val’s question twisted in on itself. Instead of everyone wants to be me, the truth was simpler... and uglier.

My whole life, I’d been proof that not everyone does.

But was that really the end of it?

Is the answer truly all humans?

“A lot might be the safest answer,” I finally said, tearing the butter bread in my hands. “But you’d just say that’s vague. So let me ask you: do you want to be an arcane?”

Unlike me or Rina, Val was just human. Completely human. Someone who relied on technology instead of bending nature with a finger.

A very human boy, in a class full of arcanes, and still respected as Valentine Delaune. Not for some Gift he didn’t have, but for who he was.

Which was exactly why his question earlier had left me stuck.

Val smirked, popped the last crumbs into his mouth, washed them down with cola, then answered.

“Of course I do. Imagine having the power to break physics?” He chuckled, took another sip, then sighed. “But if I were an arcane… would I still be Valentine Delaune?”

I frowned. “You are Valentine Delaune. Are you saying a Gift defines someone’s identity?”

“Yeah. I am.” His eyes narrowed just a little. “That’s why I wonder, when you hide your ability, when you refuse to use it even when you’re in danger... are you hating your identity as an arcane, or are you hating yourself?”

"..."

He had a point.

But he was pushing it too far.

“I don’t hate myself,” I snapped. “I just hate showing off. You’ve seen how some arcanes act, haven't you? Arrogant morons. I do use my Gift when it’s life or death.”

“You’re not wrong,” Val leaned back in his chair. “Though I can’t say Theodore Morgan isn’t an arrogant moron too.”

My nerves twitched.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Refusing to use your Gift until you’re already getting beaten down is arrogance,” he said flatly. “Thinking you can handle everything alone. But it’s just stupid, if I need to be honest. You get hurt. Every time.”

Because he was right.

Yesterday, that blond punk had been taller, stronger. If his punch had landed clean, I’d have gone down. The only reason I didn’t was because I finally used my Gift.

But against the fat one, I held back.

And that’s why my arm was still wrapped in bandages.

Even Rina had called me an idiot.

Well, to be fair, Val called me a moron all the time.

“So what do you want me to do?” I muttered.

“Stop acting dumb.”

“Yeah? Like how?”

“Stop being dumb.”

“How!?”

The bell rang, slicing the argument in half. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and everyone slid back into place.

I noticed Rina too. She quietly returning to her desk.

Val stood, sighing like an old man. “I think you’re the only one who knows the answer,” he muttered, heading out.

And just like that, Val’s words lodged themselves under my skin—heavier than any punch I’d ever taken.

‘Stop being dumb.’

‘You’re the only one who knows the answer.’

We had each other’s numbers. It wouldn’t be impossible.

The thought kept spinning until I couldn’t focus on the lecture at all.

Lucky for me, it was Classic Literature. The teacher barely noticed whether you breathed or not. My desk—second row, middle—might as well have been under a spotlight, but zoning out had become second nature.

By the time the final bell rang, my notes were nothing but useless scribbles. The teacher shut his book and wandered out without even glancing back.

Or maybe—

“Theo, heading home right away?”

I looked up. Rina stood beside my desk, bag slung over one shoulder. She leaned in slightly, like she was checking whether I was actually present or if my mind had drifted off somewhere again.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“It’s about Lela from 2-1. You know her?”

“Yeah. She's from Robotics club,” I nodded. “What, she wants me to make her captain next year?” I smirked.

Rina shot me a glare sharp enough to cut paper. I flinched a bit. 

“She wants help with her aquatic project. Says her terrain scanner won’t calibrate. Can you fix it?”

“Oh.” I scratched my cheek. “She should’ve asked me directly. I’m the vice-captain. Why go through you?”

“Because you scare her, genius.” She crossed her arms. “Fix that glare of yours and maybe timid girls won’t act like you’re a thundercloud.”

“I can handle Lizzy,” she said easily. “It’s Friday. Maybe I’ll stay over.”

“You’re staying over again?” I tried to sound casual.

“I’ll kill you if you peek through the keyhole.”

“There are no keyholes anymore!” I protested, then facepalmed. “Fine. I’ll help Lela. But you handle Lizzy tonight, okay?”

“Good.” Her smile brightened. “Lizzy’s always more radiant when I’m around, anyway.”

I sighed, shoving books into my bag. “I should limit her exposure to you, huh?”

“What, jealous?” Rina smirked, puffing out her chest with mock pride. “Don’t worry. More or less, I’m already her big sister.”

My nerves twitched. “As long as you cook for her, I’m fine with it.”

“Fufufu.” She lingered by my desk, leaning into the light spilling through the window. The red glow of the evening sky painted her smile—soft, but strangely heavy. For a moment, the whole classroom was silent. Empty desks. Still air. Then, almost too casually, she said, “Don’t you want to ask if I’ll cook for you too?”

While zipping my bag, I threw her a smirk. “Will you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe leftovers.”

“I knew it.”

“Ahaha!” She let out a playful sigh and tapped my shoulder with the back of her hand. “I’ll go first. Don’t get home too late, or there won’t be any stew left for you.”

“You cook fancy when I’m not around, huh?”

“Try being on time, then~”

With that, she hummed softly and walked away, her silhouette swallowed by the dimming corridor light.