CHAPTER 3 — PART 1
The Interview
Morning came too bright and too soon.
Kian dressed carefully—clean shirt, dark slacks, and a lightweight jacket that didn't stand out. He couldn't afford attention today. The judge-in-training interview was one of the most prestigious evaluations at the law school, and the only thing that could put him in direct proximity to Marcus again.
He stepped out of the dorm and walked toward the administrative wing. The air held a quiet chill, carrying the soft sound of leaves brushing the pavement. Students moved along the sidewalks in scattered groups—some talking loudly; some sleepwalking with coffee cups; some reviewing notes as they hurried to class.
Kian watched them with a strange mix of envy and detachment.
They're nervous about an exam, he thought.
I'm nervous because the man who might've killed me is gonna look me in the eyes again.
When he reached the double doors of the Judicial Placement Office, he paused.
Breathed.
Slow. Even.
Elias's breath.
Kian's pulse.
He stepped inside.
Placement Waiting Room
The lobby was quiet except for a receptionist typing sharply at her desk. The walls were lined with framed photos of past judges-in-training—young, proud, dressed in ceremonial robes.
A man in a gray suit sat near the corner, reading forms. Another student paced back and forth. A girl murmured to herself while clutching a thick binder.
Everyone was nervous.
A familiar voice broke the stillness.
"Kian Thorne?"
He straightened.
A tall intern with a headset looked up from his clipboard.
"Judge Hale will see you now."
Kian's chest tightened for half a second.
Then he stepped forward.
The Interview Room
The door closed softly behind him.
Marcus stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. His silhouette was outlined by sunlight—sharp, controlled, unyielding. The way he always stood in Cortalis. The way Elias remembered him as a protégé.
Marcus didn't turn immediately.
"Kian Thorne," he said. "Eighteen, first-year candidate. Studying under Professor Hartwell."
His tone held the Kansai sharpness he'd refined into a weapon.
Marcus finally turned, eyes narrowing as he studied the boy before him.
"…Take a seat," he said slowly.
Kian sat.
Marcus remained standing.
Marcus's Assessment
Marcus opened a folder on the desk, scanning Kian's academic file.
"Your answers in lecture yesterday were unusually advanced for a first-year."
Kian kept his eyes lowered. "Just lucky, I guess."
"Luck doesn't give legal precision," Marcus replied. "Luck doesn't give structured logic. Luck doesn't give cognitive discipline."
Kian resisted the urge to tense.
Marcus leaned forward slightly.
"Y'know, Thorne… students don't usually talk like judges."
His tone sharpened.
Kansai irritation, not overt anger.
"You talk like you been listenin' to trials since you learned how to walk."
"…Maybe I just like law more than other people."
Marcus clicked his tongue.
"Tch. That ain't it."
Silence stretched.
Kian fought to control his posture. His breathing. The magic quietly shifting like static under his skin.
Marcus closed the file.
"Tell me why you're applyin' for the judge-track."
Kian opened his mouth.
Then paused.
A judge shouldn't answer like a judge.
A student shouldn't answer like Elias.
He chose carefully.
"I… want to learn how to make fair decisions," he said. "Decisions that don't hurt people without reason."
Marcus's expression didn't change, but something softened almost imperceptibly.
"You think fairness is enough?"
Kian swallowed. "No, sir. But it's the start."
Marcus watched him in silence.
Long silence.
Too long.
Then—
A faint exhale.
Barely audible.
"…Hmph. Not bad."
Kian resisted the urge to relax.
Marcus tapped the folder.
"I got one more question. Answer it honestly."
"Yes, sir."
Marcus leaned slightly forward, gaze sharp as a blade.
"Where'd ya learn to look at people like that?"
Kian's pulse spiked.
"Look at people… like what?"
Marcus's eyes narrowed—Kansai irritation flickering under calm professionalism.
"Like they already told ya their whole life story without openin' their mouth."
Kian inhaled quietly.
"I just… observe things."
Marcus tilted his head.
"I ain't buyin' that."
Another silence.
Then Marcus closed the file with a soft snap.
"…All right."
Kian blinked. "Sir?"
Marcus sat back, expression unreadable.
"I'll move ya to the second interview stage."
Kian's breath caught.
"Thank you, sir."
Marcus nodded once.
"Don't thank me yet. Next stage's harder. We'll see if ya break."
His tone softened again—only slightly—into something almost nostalgic.
"Yer a strange kid, Thorne. But sometimes strange ones make the best judges."
Kian stood, bowing respectfully.
Marcus watched him walk to the door.
Just as Kian touched the handle—
Marcus spoke.
"But hey—Kian."
Kian froze.
Marcus's voice dropped low.
"…You ever been to Nugano?"
Kian's heart stopped.
"Sir?"
Marcus's gaze sharpened, irritation flickering.
"Ain't nothin'. Just reminded me of somethin' I saw at the Rainescorp Regional Headquarters there. Some trainee with the same posture as you. Must be a coincidence."
Kian kept his breathing steady with inhuman discipline.
"…Probably is, sir."
Marcus studied him a moment longer.
Then turned away.
"You're dismissed."
Kian stepped outside.
Closed the door.
And exhaled only when he was halfway down the hall.
CHAPTER 3 — PART 2
The Weight of Recognition
Kian left the Judicial Placement Office with steps that were too quiet and a pulse that was far too loud.
Nugano.
Rainescorp Regional Headquarters.
Marcus had said them lightly—offhandedly—but Elias knew better.
Marcus didn't do anything offhand.
Those names were probes.
Tests.
Thinly veiled bait on a line cast directly toward him.
Kian stepped outside into the cool morning air and kept walking until he reached a bench under a thin cherry tree whose leaves were just beginning to yellow. Students moved around him in clusters, unaware of how his world had constricted to a single dangerous truth.
Marcus had seen something.
Maybe posture.
Maybe mannerisms.
Maybe the way he breathed during stress.
Or maybe the tiny flicker of magic from the handshake he couldn't completely suppress.
Regardless—Marcus's suspicion had shifted from curiosity to pattern-recognition.
Which meant Kian needed to be perfect.
No more slip-ups.
No more revealing instinctual habits.
No more answering questions like he had thirty years of judicial expertise.
A long exhale left his lungs.
I can't survive a second death, he thought. And definitely not from the same man twice.
The Walk Back
As he walked across campus, the hum of student conversation washed around him.
"—placement interviews are impossible to pass—"
"—Judge Hale's here?! No way—"
"—VR lab opens in an hour—"
The VR lab comment snagged in his mind.
VR.
Kyle.
A world where Marcus couldn't follow.
A world where his magic didn't feel like a trapped wire sparking beneath his skin.
A world where he could move, test, explore—without suspicion.
He needed that escape now more than ever.
But before he could seek that refuge, another obstacle stepped abruptly into his path.
Hartwell's Interception
Professor Hartwell came striding down the walkway with his arms full of folders and books. He stopped when he spotted Kian.
"Oh, Thorne," he called. "I heard you finished your first-stage interview."
Kian forced a polite bow. "Yes, sir."
Hartwell eyed him with mild surprise. "Marcus approved you for stage two? Impressive. He's notoriously strict. Even stricter than I am, and that's saying something."
Kian smiled faintly. "I'm… grateful for the opportunity."
"Keep your head steady," Hartwell said. "And try not to overthink things. Judges don't crumble under pressure—they sharpen."
Kian nodded.
If only Hartwell knew how sharp he already was.
"By the way," Hartwell added casually, "Judge Hale mentioned that you reminded him of someone he saw in Nugano. That true?"
Kian stiffened.
Hartwell blinked. "Relax, son, I'm just making conversation."
"I've never been to Nugano," Kian replied gently. "But I've heard it's beautiful."
"Hm. So have I." Hartwell adjusted his stack of papers. "Well, off you go. Don't let Marcus intimidate you."
Kian bowed again and continued walking.
Once Hartwell was out of sight, he whispered under his breath:
"…Intimidate me? I'm trying not to make him think I'm a ghost."
Dormitory Silence
When he reached his dorm, he closed the door quietly, leaning back against it.
The room felt smaller today.
More claustrophobic.
More like a holding cell than a living space.
Kian paced once. Twice.
The magic under his skin flickered in response—agitated, sensing his stress.
"Quiet," he murmured.
The magic softened.
He sat on the bed and gripped the edge tightly.
Nugano.
Rainescorp Headquarters.
Marcus's voice when he said them.
That wasn't memory.
That was association.
Marcus was connecting Kian with someone from a place tied to Elias's former investigations.
A place where Rainescorp's data hub was located.
A place where legal intelligence passed through daily.
And Elias… had accessed that hub many times.
Could Marcus have seen him there once?
A passing glance?
A security feed?
Did Marcus see me alive in Nugano at any point in the past?
The thought chilled him.
Marcus was perceptive—not supernaturally, but dangerously consistently.
A flicker of recognition could grow into a theory.
A theory could grow into suspicion.
Suspicion could become pursuit.
And pursuit could reveal the impossible truth:
Kian Thorne was Elias Thorne reborn.
It would ruin everything.
"No mistakes," Kian whispered. "Not anymore."
The Decision
He stood abruptly.
He needed a break from this world.
A place where he wasn't being analyzed, judged, and cornered.
A place where he could breathe.
He reached for the VR headset on his desk.
Kyle was waiting.
Magic was waiting.
A world unconstrained by Marcus's sharp eyes was waiting.
Just as he lifted the helmet—
A knock hit his door.
Sharp. Firm.
Kian froze.
A second knock followed, more impatient.
"Kian Thorne," a deep voice called.
"Kai? Ya in there?"
Marcus.
Kian's heart slammed against his ribs.
Not now.
Not while his thoughts were unstable.
Not while magic was rippling under his skin.
Not with the VR headset in his hands like a neon sign screaming I'm hiding something.
He placed the helmet down silently.
Another knock.
"Open up, kid."
Kian inhaled slowly.
Calm.
Steady.
Elias breath.
But inside, Kian trembled.
He opened the door.
Marcus stood there, arms crossed, irritation flickering behind his eyes—a Kansai heat simmering under judicial calm.
"Ya got a minute?" Marcus asked.
Kian nodded.
And thought:
If he sees through me now… I'm finished.
CHAPTER 3 — PART 3
A Judge at the Door
Marcus didn't wait for an invitation.
The moment Kian stepped aside, Marcus brushed past him with a clipped, irritated stride—his Kansai accent slipping through the cracks of his polished judicial tone.
"Yer room's smaller'n I expected. Kids these days, crammin' in shoeboxes like this…"
He gave a short exhale. "Tch. Typical."
Kian shut the door gently, hands steady even while his pulse hammered.
Marcus rarely let the Kansai edge show unless he was annoyed—or suspicious.
He turned, keeping his expression neutral.
"Is… something wrong, sir?"
Marcus didn't answer right away.
He was too busy looking.
Not glancing.
Not scanning.
Studying the room.
His eyes swept the bed, the desk, the chair, the VR pod still plugged into the wall.
His posture sharpened.
"You usin' the VR already?" he asked, voice deceptively casual.
Kian's stomach tightened.
"Yes," he said calmly. "The school encouraged us to."
"Hm."
Marcus stepped closer to the headset, narrowing his eyes at the console lights.
"All the new students jumpin' in as soon as it's plugged in… Ain't even been out two days."
He tapped the side of the helmet with his knuckle.
"This thing—dangerous if ya don't treat it right. Ya know that?"
"Yes, sir."
Marcus grunted. "Good. Least ya ain't stupid."
He turned, hands in his pockets, expression sharpening again.
The Silent Interrogation
Marcus didn't speak.
Not at first.
He simply watched Kian.
Not blinking.
Not shifting his weight.
Not softening his stare.
A predator waiting to see how prey would twitch.
Kian met the gaze politely, but lowered it just enough to mimic youth and deference—not familiarity.
Finally, Marcus spoke.
"Kian Thorne," he said slowly, "how long've ya been studyin' law?"
Kian blinked. "Uh… a few years now."
Marcus tilted his head.
"Ya answer like a man who's spent decades doin' this."
Kian forced a confused expression.
"Sorry…?"
Marcus clicked his tongue. "Don't do that."
"…Do what?"
"That innocent face. I hate when people play dumb."
Kian's breath caught—
—but he didn't let it show.
"I'm not pretending, sir."
Marcus stepped closer.
So close Kian could see the faint tension in his jaw.
So close he could smell courthouse coffee lingering on his coat.
"So what's yer deal, kid?" Marcus asked quietly.
"Ya answer questions like a trained prosecutor."
"Ya watch people like they're on trial."
"And ya talk with discipline ya shouldn't have yet."
His eyes narrowed.
"Who taught ya that?"
Kian hesitated.
A second too long.
Marcus saw it.
His voice softened—not kindly, but dangerously.
"…Who're ya modelin', Kian?"
Kian's pulse spiked.
He forced a nervous laugh.
"I—I just… read a lot of case files and—"
"Bullshit."
The Kansai bite was sharp now.
Marcus stepped even closer.
"I know trained eyes when I see 'em."
"Ya got the same kinda stare as someone I used to work with."
Kian's chest tightened.
Elias.
Marcus was thinking of Elias.
Kian forced a swallow. "Someone you worked with?"
Marcus clicked his tongue again.
"Tch. Ain't important."
But Kian knew the shift in tone.
It was important.
Marcus just didn't want to admit what name was bouncing inside his skull.
Not yet.
A Thread Pulled Tight
Marcus moved past him and sat on the bed without asking.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped.
"Look. Just tell me somethin'."
Kian stood still.
Marcus didn't look up when he spoke next.
"Ya ever been to Nugano?"
"…No."
Marcus finally looked up.
Sharp. Penetrating.
"Ya sure?"
Kian met his stare.
"Yes. I've never been."
Marcus held the eye contact, searching for cracks.
Kian kept his breathing even.
Kept his pulse steady.
Kept Elias buried under layers of youth and innocence.
After a long, heavy moment, Marcus leaned back with an annoyed huff.
"…Hn. Guess not."
Relief flickered—
Then vanished a second later as Marcus added:
"But ya remind me of someone from there anyway."
Kian's hand twitched.
"Who?" he asked quickly—too quickly.
Marcus's eyes sharpened.
"…Don't be so curious. Curiosity's a bad habit for someone tryna pass my exam."
"I—I didn't mean—"
"I know ya didn't."
He stood.
"This ain't a courtroom. I ain't interrogatin' ya."
Kian internally exhaled.
Marcus then added:
"…Not yet, anyway."
And the relief vanished again.
One More Question
Marcus moved toward the door.
Hand on the knob.
Pausing.
"Kian," he said without turning, "lemme ask ya one last thing."
Kian braced himself.
"Why're yer hands always cold?"
The blood in Kian's veins froze.
Marcus spoke quietly now—dangerously quiet.
"Every time I shake yer hand, ya got hands like a corpse."
Kian couldn't breathe for a moment.
Then—
"I have poor circulation," he said softly. "I always have."
Marcus didn't answer.
He didn't move.
He just stood there with his hand on the knob, thinking.
Then, finally—
"Tch. Fine."
He opened the door.
"But listen good, kid."
"If ya're hidin' somethin'…"
His voice dropped into a low Kansai growl.
"I'll find out."
He stepped into the hall.
"And when I do—ya ain't gonna like bein' on the other end o' my judgment."
Kian's heart thundered.
Marcus walked away without looking back.
The moment he disappeared around the corner—
Kian's knees wobbled.
Magic surged dangerously, rattling under his skin.
He grabbed the desk to steady himself.
"That was too close," he whispered shakily. "Way too close."
The VR headset sat on the table, still glowing softly.
Tonight, he wouldn't enter VR to relax. He felt there was something huge on the horizon, someone he would meet that would change his life forever.