Four days had passed since Ansel's duel with Dominic. News of Ansel's victory had quickly spread across campus—garnering him a sudden reputation overnight. It was also revealed that Dominic had been found unconscious in the main lobby on the day of the duel, having passed out after a delirious fit. Dominic hadn't been seen on school grounds since the day of his defeat.
To Ansel, Dominic's absence didn't feel right. There was no doubt that Dominic was feeling a sense of shame, but he wasn't the type of person to cower away in his dorm, closing off the outside world. It was all Ansel could seem to think about.
"Hey, Ansel... are you zoning out again?" Sven asked, waving a hand in front of Ansel's face. The steam carriage the group was on suddenly hit a small pebble in the road, causing the chassis to jump up with surprising force.
"W-woah!" Ansel blurted out, gripping onto the fabric of his seat to steady himself. Then, as the carriage stabilized, Ansel let out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, hehe... I guess I was. It's no big deal."
Cerua, who sat beside Eyra on the opposite seat, looked at Ansel with a sympathetic expression. "There's probably a lot on your mind, huh?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Well, it's the weekend now. The duel is finished, and you've activated your ability. I think you can afford a little rest."
"That's right," Rotteger—who was sitting beside Sven—nodded, raising a finger as he spoke. "You've pushed yourself to the very limit. And then somehow, you broke those limits. Frankly, after seeing your ability... you started to make a lot more sense to me, Ansel."
"Huh?" Eyra raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean? But really, what's more impressive is that he activated his ability and then somehow mastered the second apex of the Lotus Style! He just skipped the first apex entirely! Haha! Shows how good my teaching is!"
Rolling his eyes at Eyra's smug look, Rotteger continued, "Hey Ansel, remember when I read your palm the first time we met?" Seeing Ansel nod, Rotteger continued, "...well, I did see something. To be more exact, I, uh... saw nothing at all. I was half-expecting you to die right then and there."
"Wait... are you saying Ansel somehow managed to escape a fated death?" Sven asked, his eyes going wide. "...Ansel, if you keep on doing more crazy stuff, I'll have a hard time believing you're human at all."
"No, no!" Rotteger shook his head. "It's not that he escaped a fated death! He just experiences time differently than the rest of us due to his broken chord of temporality! That means his time is totally different from our time!"
All heads turned to Ansel. "Well... from my perspective right now, time seems to be flowing normally for me. I don't understand how I could... exist outside the normal flow of time. I don't think such a concept's even possible to fully understand."
"That's right, it's incomprehensible," Rotteger agreed. "...When faced with something impossible to understand, the best option is just to accept it as some sort of axiom and follow along with blind devotion."
"Blind devotion?" Cerua smirked. "I never thought I would live to see the day where our Rotteger would go about preaching blind devotion. What happened to all the numbers and statistics?"
"Hey! What kind of cliché nerd do you think I am?"
"Enoooough..." Eyra groaned, running her fingers across her face. "All this smart talk is making my head hurt. And Sven looks like his brain is about to start leaking out of his ears." She turned around, smooshing her cheek against the glass.
Outside, the scenery of Farrah's lower-class residential district encompassed them. It was the familiar blend of rubbish and scaffolding Ansel had witnessed when he was first traveling to the school with Pengal. It was far from a pretty sight, but knowing what—or rather, who—awaited him at the end of the journey made the trash-filled environment a sight for sore eyes.
"Is the council housing district close by?" Sven asked, hoping to ease the awkward tension that had settled in the carriage after Eyra's outburst.
"Yeah," Ansel nodded, "we should be just about a half-hour away."
* * *
The steam carriage entered through the archway that led into the council housing district. The slummy environment of the lower-class residential district was eaten away by verdant greenery and incredible cleanliness. To everyone inside the carriage, the contrast was immediate.
"Woah..." Eyra spoke, her breath fogging up the glass. "...So, you're telling me that you've been living in this place your entire life, Ansel? It's so green..." She cocked her head side-to-side, trying to find a better angle.
"Don't talk like you've been living in the slums," Cerua muttered, throwing a side-glance at Eyra as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But it really is pretty over here." She spared a quick look out the window, her hand unintentionally reaching out to flatten against the glass.
"Ansel, is that your house?" Sven asked, pointing a finger to a modest cabin enclosed in a small field of grass with a wooden picket fence running across its perimeter. Upon catching sight of his home, Ansel felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had only been at the academy for three weeks—but those three weeks felt much, much longer than they had been.
The steam carriage hissed as it came to a halt. The driver spoke up from the front, his gruff voice carrying a subtle warmth. "Alright then, we've arrived." The old man dismounted from the vehicle, opening the doors for the group to exit.
Upon stepping out, a fresh breeze hit Ansel's face. He let out a long, drawn-out breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. If he could choose any word to describe how he felt at that very moment, he would choose 'Warm... I feel warm.'
After paying the driver, Ansel and the rest of the group started approaching the cabin. "I should've told them I'd be coming..." Ansel murmured. "...Now that I think about it, I didn't even get much time to write my parents any letters."
"Don't worry about it," Cerua smiled, "they're still your parents after all. And from what you've told us about them, they sound like amazing people." An unreadable shine glazed across her eyes.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Hey," Ansel spoke up quietly, "...just one thing, guys. Please don't mention anything about what happened with Dominic to my parents. I don't want them to worry about me..."
Just as Eyra was about to respond, the door rattled open. Inside stood a blonde woman, an awkward smile etched across her features. Her hands were dusted white with flour, and a green apron was tied around her waist. "Hey—" she began to speak but stopped abruptly, noticing who had come to visit.
"Ansel!" she exclaimed, tightly embracing her son. A cloud of flour shot up into the air the moment her hands wrapped around Ansel, obscuring the faces of the rest of the group in a white, misty haze.
Ansel's face went red in his mother's grasp—the air beginning to seep out of his lungs. "Mom! Mom!" he called out with a strained voice, "I-I can't breathe!"
"Oh! Sorry!" Elize apologized, quickly releasing her vice as she wiped off tears threatening to spill over. "I wasn't expecting you to come back home so quickly, and—" Then, Elize noticed the others. "You brought friends? That's wonderful! I was just in the middle of baking some bread, so please come on in!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Einchalle." Sven nodded, entering after Ansel. The rest of the group followed suit, thanking Ansel's mother before she promptly shut the door.
"You children have such nice manners." Elize smiled, feeling a warmth spread within her heart as she spread the curtains open to let in a wave of natural sunlight. "Please, feel free to make yourselves at home. I'll go make some tea to help us all settle down."
Eyra had sunk down onto the sofa—taking Elize's advice to make herself at home. Then, her ears perked up. "I'll help too, Ms. Einchalle!" she called out, shooting up from her seated position to follow Ansel's mother into the kitchen.
Rotteger, who was sitting silently at the other end of the couch while twiddling his thumbs, suddenly spoke. "Yes, m-me too." He stood up, following behind Eyra and disappearing into the kitchen.
"Rotteger likes to make tea?" Sven asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Rotteger walk off.
Cerua scoffed, "The only reason why he went to help was to build a good rapport with Ansel's mother. Which... isn't really a bad reason." Her tone went contemplative as she turned to face the kitchen. "...Maybe I should go help make some tea as well."
"W-wait..." Ansel stammered, "I'm pretty sure three people is more than enough to make some tea!" He reached out with a hand to stop Cerua, but it was already too late. When a teenager brings friends over to their home, they usually feel awkward due to the behavior of their parents. But now... Ansel was only hoping Eyra wouldn't have the gall to say something outlandish to his mother.
The only one who stayed put was Sven, but even his face was contorted with confusion. "Uh... should I just stay here? Everyone else is helping with the tea..." his gaze went downcast, "I kind of feel lazy and ungrateful."
"Please," Ansel begged, clasping his hands together, "...just stay where you are, Sven."