Cleaning took me over three hours.
After that, I started preparing a late lunch, turning on the TV for background noise. Every news channel was blasting the same story: the kidnapping of Alan Holivan, the younger son of a major oil company owner. They reported that no demands had been made yet, and someone had leaked information about the recent "accident" in which I—well, Alan—had supposedly suffered serious injuries, though no details were given.
I glanced at the clock as I turned off the stove.
An apple pie was baking in the oven.
It was already close to eight in the evening, and Andrew still hadn't come back. I didn't feel like eating alone, so I lay down on the uncomfortable couch to wait for him.
The door slammed.
I jerked awake.
I'd fallen asleep.
Almost nine.
"Whoa… what did you do to my bachelor cave?" Andrew exclaimed, looking around. "And what's that smell? Do we actually have hot food?"
"How did you even live in that mess?" I shot back. "Consider it repayment for your hospitality."
"Where'd you get groceries?"
"I went to the store."
"…And the key?"
"I wedged a shoe in the door so it wouldn't lock."
"You left the apartment open?" he raised an eyebrow.
"What was I supposed to do? Starve while waiting for you?"
"…Fair enough," he smirked. "If it tastes as good as it smells, I'll forgive you. Maybe." He handed me a bag. "Put this in the freezer."
I peeked inside.
Two frozen ready meals.
I sighed, put them away, and started setting the table while Andrew went to shower.
"You cook insanely well," he said later, taking another bite. "Peacock, you really are full of surprises."
"I'm not a peacock," I muttered. "And you're washing the dishes this time. I'm exhausted."
"Fine. You earned it today," he said with a grin, dumping the dishes into the sink and heading off.
"Hey—dishes!" I called after him.
He groaned and came back.
I ended up staying in that apartment for over a week.
Strangely enough, Andrew and I got along—though he still kept his guard up around me.
I started to understand why.
A few days ago, he brought beer. Technically, I shouldn't have been drinking—but Andrew didn't care much about rules. I even ended up smoking a few cigarettes.
"Why did you decide to become one of the gifted?" I asked. Alcohol had loosened my tongue. Apparently, Alan's body wasn't used to drinking either.
"You think someone like me has a lot of options?" he replied.
"Someone like you?"
"You already know how most people gain sight, right?"
"Yes."
"Then who do you think ends up on the brink of death most often?"
"There are plenty of possibilities—soldiers, police, rescue workers—"
"Those are adults," he cut in. "What about kids? How many seers did you grow up with who didn't use pills?"
"…I can't be sure, given my memory," I admitted. "But I guess… it could happen. Accidents, maybe."
"Kids from good families don't usually end up on the brink," he said. "And it's not just near-death experiences. Starvation. Abuse. Deprivation. All of that can trigger abilities."
I went cold.
And looked at him differently.
"…You didn't have the best childhood, did you?"
"No," he said flatly. "And I'm not about to pour my heart out to a peacock. I'm just explaining what kind of people you'll be studying with. Most of your classmates will be angry at the world."
That's when it hit me.
What was waiting for me.
To them, I'd just be a spoiled rich kid.
And in this body—I couldn't fight back.
These weren't people who sat around having polite conversations.
They clawed their way up.
Stepped over others.
Now I was actually scared.
And Andrew noticed.
"I need to learn how to defend myself," I said quietly.
"Now you're thinking," he replied. "To survive, you'll need to be smarter, stronger, and more ruthless than everyone else. From what Start told me… the old you? He would've found a way to rise above them all."
"The old me would never have joined the gifted class," I said with a bitter smile.
Andrew didn't argue.
Which said enough.
That night, I lay on the same uncomfortable couch, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I'd be walking straight into a hornet's nest.
And I wasn't ready.
It would've been easier if my face wasn't all over the news. At least then I could've tried to hide who I was—until I got strong enough to stand my ground.
I didn't fall asleep until nearly four in the morning.
And it felt like I had just closed my eyes when someone started shaking my shoulder.
"No… let me sleep…" I mumbled, pulling the thin blanket over myself.
"Now this looks more like a spoiled rich boy," Andrew said. "Get up, peacock. I'm not being late for the entrance ceremony."
I snapped my eyes open.
He was sitting on the edge of the couch.
Hair damp.
And—judging by experience—completely naked.
I deliberately didn't look down.
God, his casual nudity was torture.
Well… part of me didn't mind getting a daily view of a body like that.
But hiding my reaction?
That was the real struggle.
I tried to shove him off—but only managed to press myself further into the couch.
"I'm getting up! Just go put some clothes on!"
"I want that thing you made for breakfast," he said over his shoulder. "The one with the egg on top."
"Why am I making breakfast again? Aren't we late?" I protested, slicing ham for croque-madame.
"Because I won't be eating your cooking for a while," he said, pouring coffee. "That's why I woke you up early."
"You're unbelievable," I muttered—but still reached for the pan.
While the sandwiches baked in the oven, I went back to the bathroom and packed my few belongings.
This really was my last day here.
And somehow… that made me sad.
I wondered if I'd ever see Andrew again.
…Though maybe it was better if I didn't.
Because if we did—
He'd realize I wasn't interested in him just as a friend… or a mentor.