"Ryn! You are getting distracted again. Focus!"
My jaw trembled as I tried to speak. "I... I... I am—"
"You weren't, were you?"
"I am!" I replied again. "It isn't fiction—"
"Ryn, all of it is just excuses. How can I..." he replied.
"...I..."
At that time, I wanted to scream, yet my voice wouldn't leave my throat, though tears did. I wanted to scream, How can you be so cold, rude, and pragmatic?
He walked toward me. He was wearing a suit—a local mix of a shalwar and kameez—his walk exuding nothing but perfection, elegance, and its own quiet beauty. His presence could make a tense person calm; his touch could cure a high-fevered person; his mere presence could ease the heart.
But I was different. Or perhaps it was just that I knew what he was like to his child... For me, he was the reason I knew the difference between a mother's steps and a father's, or maybe I just hated him because I blamed my own failures on his teaching methods.
He sighed, picking up both of my hands and squeezing them between his...
"Ryn, in this world, only being emotionless is impossible; everything else is an excuse. So follow my instruction."
"I can try..."
"Well done. Now just focus on my voice and move your body. You just have to repeat the chant and visualize."
Is it true that being emotionless is that hard? Even if it is, I can try. I can show him the impossible so he stops pressuring me for the possible.
"Close your eyes and see."
Is he mad? What does he even mean?
"Well done. You are doing right. Now..."
What... what was the chant? Should I ask him...?
Remember, you dumbfounded idiot. You can. You are a prodigy. No... I am the son of a prodigy. Is there any difference? Ughhhhhh.
"Frozmania!"
For a moment, silence covered the environment—an air so still it couldn't even breathe.
"What? Did it freeze?" I asked in hope.
"Did you visualize?" He sighed.
"I..." My voice started to tremble as I opened my eyes and found it hadn't.
"You aren't," he replied. His voice had no venom, but rather a crushing disappointment.
I gave a small nod as my throat held back my voice under the guilt of failing one test after another.
As he continued speaking, his voice deepened. It was filled with venom and rage, yet how it remained calm was a mystery. It felt like a sweet poison that lures you into a deep sleep before death.
"Useless and truly pathetic... What do you think? One day, if a real war comes, will you be able to save the people or the humans you want...?"
Don't you understand what I'm saying?!"
The line echoed violently in my mind before bleeding straight back into the present.
"Don't you understand what I'm saying?!" Lina repeated in front of me, her voice pulling me out of the memory. "What do you mean by 'Mira was looking cute'?"
There was a mischievous smirk on Lina's face. She was looking at me by stretching her neck, but I...
I couldn't see her face. It wasn't blurriness, nor distance, nor blankness; it was right in front of me, yet it felt like I was merely perceiving life rather than living it, and her face was quite obvious before me.
It was like a student who knows the risk of failure, yet the stillness of sitting and silence, accompanied by the resurrection of a painful memory, was eating him alive.
I clearly said what I meant! Why did she hear it wrong? I shouldn't test it anymore, because by god, if it starts to scramble my statements again, it could come out so distorted that teasing would hurt far more than mockery.
"It was a huge success. I even got a fable," I replied.
She stared at me for some moments before saying, "Ohhh... you sometimes make vulgar statements just to pull attention. You really are a creep. Alas... how's the story going? Any review?"
As I closed my eyes to visualize what happened in the whole story, taking a couple of moments before countering with a question:
"In which sector?"
"The one you loved most?" she asked.
"Ummmm... Lionheart's red eyes."
A bewildered look crossed her face. "Ahh... okay." She withdrew back into her space and work.
Did that creep her out? Did it sound clumsy?
I just liked red and blue eyes from the start. It wasn't worth mentioning. I shouldn't even act depressed—what is it like to just remember a memory and act like you've suffered through hell? Be intellectual a bit.
I just liked Lionheart's eyes; they served two functions according to me. I didn't know—it might even be the magic of the book that made me remember a memory so I could find or conclude those eyes.
So basically, it was red to reflect his love for Rose. He hadn't given her a flower his entire life, but to her, his eyes were the reddest roses she had ever received. But it also mostly hid the fact that his eyes were bloodshot for several reasons.
I should be asleep. I know I woke up not long ago, but I think I'm sleep-deprived, and that's why I'm just blaming my moodiness and depression on this or that. It wasn't that bad.
I said in a very whispered voice, "I am going to sleep."
"Have a good nap!"
Should I? I mean... what if an intruder attacks? Shut up, mind. I was in a coma for six months anyway.
As I said it to my inner self, I tugged a pillow between my hands and chest, and as my heavy eyelids closed, I didn't know the exact moment I drifted off to sleep.
{Guys tommorow is my result so hope I get goods marks or I am gonna hell scold anyway I am releasing this before time because releasing at result day would be hard ,if you can pray for me 🥲}