Chapter 53
'Does it matter for your training and results? Or do you just want to prevent me from unleashing my manhood tonight?'
The words emerged like polished irony.
Each syllable carried a spark of tension almost imperceptible—as if Theo deliberately sowed a fog between them, hoping Erietta's gaze would get lost within it.
Yet beneath the casual gestures and the cynicism of his choice of words, a heartbeat in Theo's chest argued ceaselessly.
He wanted to remain the calm, superior teacher, yet beneath it all, he realized that this time it was not he who was testing Erietta, but himself being tested by his student.
'Slow, almost invisible.
But to my eyes, it's like the pause between two breaths before a storm arrives.
She tilts her head slightly—not completely, just enough to direct her gaze toward the center of my chest, then stops.
Silence hangs in the air, like an empty room awaiting something to explode.
And I sense something behind that calmness—whatever it is, but it's not mere curiosity.'
Shiiiiish!
'No emotion on her face. No nervousness, no awkward questioning like most humans.
And that's what sends shivers down my spine: when someone can ask a question without expression, as if their heart has eliminated all possible answers.'
"Do you have feelings for Aldraya—or something like that?"
Time seemed to stop in that blink.
A simple movement from Erietta—holding the fabric on Theo's left arm—shook the air between them.
There was no real force in the grip, only a form of courage born from the quietest doubt.
Her gaze lowered, resting on her own chest, as if seeking a place to hold something she could not understand.
Her voice was faint, almost drowned by the morning breeze peeking through the training hall walls, yet enough to make Theo freeze as if doused in icy water.
He heard the question clearly.
'Does she have feelings for Aldraya, or something like that.'
"..."
"...."
Once again, silence—the world forced to freeze after Erietta's question—and of course, she had executed all preceding actions without showing a single expression, aside from a blank, empty gaze toward Theo Vkytor's chest.
'She finally looked at me.
For the first time, without hesitation, without the faint veil she usually wore like morning fog.'
Faaaaaah!
'That gaze was like a blade made of light.
It cut, but spilled no blood.
It peeled layer after layer of the masks people wore, even leaving me feeling exposed before her.'
Raaaaahh!
'My difficulty in looking away may stem from the way she sees the world.
She finds beauty precisely within human corruption, and in that way discovers a pure truth impossible to replicate.'
The remaining morning light seeped gently through the window, falling between their faces, as if highlighting a moment that should not have occurred.
Erietta finally raised her face, staring straight at Theo.
That gaze was not merely a student looking at a teacher, nor a curious eye toward one who is thought to know everything.
There was something deeper, sharper, and more dangerous there. She stared without hesitation, piercing the layer of calm that Theo had worn like a cloak.
In the depth of those eyes, Theo saw something he had never anticipated—and instantly his body responded with a small reflex.
A faint furrow in his brow, his breath held halfway.
He felt as if standing on the edge of a cliff, where the human world was no longer defined by logic or rules.
Erietta's gaze was not merely the reflection of light in calm gray irises, but a mirror of everything that corrupts human existence.
Before him, lies became love, hypocrisy masqueraded as concern, soft smiles held deceit, and greed radiated like the light of truth.
All the rot of the human world intertwined there, dancing with the strangest beauty.
Yet in the midst of the whirlpool, something remained pure, untouched by corruption—a truth born not from words, but from a gaze refusing to hide.
'That's enough.
I must end this now—the unease in her eyes has hung too long, and every second only makes my steps heavier.
If I linger, she will delve deeper into lies, and I have no time for that.
Aldraya and Ilux are still out there, and every wasted second means losing control of a scenario I did not even write.
As a writer trapped in someone else's world, I must think five steps ahead, five ways to avoid being ensnared by the game rules that treat me as a pawn.'
"Honestly, the closeness between Aldraya and Ilux is not much different from our position now, Erietta."
'Sliding slowly, but clear enough to deceive anyone unaccustomed to reading between words.
And even though my tongue has finished speaking, my mind keeps spinning.
I must leave soon, before her expression changes again.
Before the silence between us swallows the remaining lies in my voice.'
The academy remained silent, the air felt frozen, as if time itself held its breath to observe the two figures standing on the thin line between truth and falsehood.
Theo Vkytor stared at the cracked ground, his eyes reflecting complexities that no one could explain but himself.
Within the calm he had created, his mind intertwined between the role he must play and the reality slowly eroding the limits of sanity.
Erietta's recent question echoed in his head.
Not merely a sound, but the echo of something far deeper—a consciousness that every word could become a blade cutting his way out of a world not his own.
As Theo drew a short breath, the space around him seemed to tremble lightly, as if aware that the answer about to come forth was not just any string of words.
He weighed every pause, examined every potential trap.
He knew that in this world, a single small mistake could rewrite the fate of an entire storyline, summon consequences not written on any page.
Thus the answer came slowly, with caution almost resembling fear.
Within him, he formed a sentence that sounded simple but was filled with hidden traps of meaning, regarding the closeness between Aldraya and Ilux, no different from himself and Erietta.
Yet behind the seemingly flat sentence lay strategy, layers of logic, and the awareness of a writer standing in the world they had created, now creating it anew.
Within Theo's chest, something invisible raged.
He was no longer merely a teacher, nor a character bound to the script, but a liminal being—trapped in a game he once wrote with full conviction that horror existed only within the story.
The world of Flo Viva Mythology, born from his inspiration for Last Prayer, had swallowed him until no boundary remained between author and creation.
Thus every move he made became a subtle resistance against the line of fate dictated by another hand.
He considered five steps ahead, five possibilities that could shake the balance of the digital universe enclosing him.
And within that thought lingered a faint fear.
That every step taken was only part of a larger scenario, written by forces he could not fully comprehend.
'I surely know why she is so worried.
Not merely because I am her teacher, nor because of sentimental concern typical students have for their mentors.
What Erietta fears is not losing me, but losing something within herself.'
To be continued…