Scarlet wakes up with the strange feeling that the Twilight Tournament happened months ago.
No more fatigue.
No more heaviness.
Only an abnormal warmth flowing through her veins, like a new kind of energy.
She remains seated for a few moments on the bench where she had collapsed.
Breathing.
Letting the thoughts, doubts, and anger settle.
— Calm down. Stop thinking about others… think about yourself.
She finally stands up and heads toward her former campus.
══ ✦ ══
— Scarlet?!
Rose and Eden immediately step back.
— Why are you backing away? Are you afraid of me? she asks, expressionless.
— It's just that… we saw your participation in the Twilight Tournament, Eden explains.
— Yeah, and it feels like you're not the same anymore, Rose adds. So we'd rather keep our distance.
Scarlet lowers her head slightly while watching them.
— I just wanted to talk to you. Like before.
— Why now?! Rose snaps. You stopped coming to class, no messages, nothing! And now you show up like nothing happened?!
Eden grabs Rose by the arm.
— Calm down. Scarlet wants to talk… about what, exactly?
Silence. Scarlet breathes, then:
— I wanted to apologize for not giving you any news.
How are you? And classes?
Rose stares at her, hostile.
— "News"? Scarlet… you never gave us any.
— That's true… so why do you want to know now? Eden asks.
— I just wanted to know if… I really scare you.
Her red eyes gleam.
A direct, cutting gaze, impossible to ignore.
— Why are you asking that?! Eden snaps.
— Honestly… you're really losing it, Rose adds.
Scarlet steps closer. Slowly.
Eden tightens his grip on Rose's arm.
— Tell me, Rose… that night after the banquet, when I called you… you didn't care at all. Just like every time I tried to ask you for help.
Rose jerks her arm free and slaps Scarlet.
— Don't come near me, Scarlet! You've always been weird! You've been crazy since you were a kid!
Eden tries to stop Rose… but freezes when he sees Scarlet's face.
Her expression is empty.
Her scarlet-red eyes burn softly beneath her dark bangs.
Nothing remains of the Scarlet they once knew.
She simply murmurs:
— Honestly… I can't do it. Wearing a smiling mask… it's not for me.
A cold smile crosses her lips.
She leans closer to Rose and whispers in her ear:
— To think you've always been jealous of me.
Then… Scarlet disappears.
Literally.
As if she had never been there.
— What was that red thing around her?!
— Scarlet… what happened to you…?
══ ✦ ══
That evening, Scarlet secretly returns to her parents' house.
She only wants to retrieve something from her room.
But on her desk, a letter awaits her.
**"Nice to meet you, Scarlet.
My name is Raythem.
If you are reading this, it means you have accepted becoming an Eygis.
I won't explain everything in a simple letter — some things must be said face to face.
You are not the only Eygis, and all of them have gone through difficult trials.
I'm sorry this happened to you.
Understanding and mastering a Y'onn's power is never simple.
That is why I want to offer you two choices:
— join us, and learn to control this power…
— or remain alone, and renounce your role.
If you choose to meet us, go to this address:
[…]
Grant me a little trust.
— Raythem"**
— Who is this guy? What does he want from me, that old man…?
She slips the letter into her pocket.
As she leaves the room, she sees her father asleep on the couch.
She immediately notices it: not a single photo of her remains in the living room.
She exhales, turns around… and runs into her mother.
— Scarlet?!
— What now? What do you want from me?
Tears in her eyes, her mother steps forward.
— Is it really you? What… what have you become?! And those clothes… there's nothing noble about you anymore!
— More criticism. As always.
I don't even consider you my mother anymore. So… go to hell.
Goodbye, ma'am.
Scarlet turns away.
No rage.
No sadness.
Only cold determination.
Her mother, collapsing, whispers after her:
— You… you heard our argument. I'm sorry, my daughter…
Live your life now. Be proud of yourself, Scarlet.
══ ✦ ══
— So… what do I do now? Raythem, was it?
Scarlet starts walking.
She has made her choice.
She no longer wants to be accepted.
Nor loved.
Nor recognized.
She wants to carve her own path.