"Son! Breakfast is ready!" Dad's call was a sudden burst of energy that I wasn't ready for. The cheer in his tone felt like an insult to the silence in my room. He was waiting for a celebration.
He didn't know yet.
I dragged myself out of bed, each step heavier than it should be.
At the table, he greeted me with a grin, sliding a plate toward me.
Then he saw it.
No glow.
His smile stalled. Not disappeared—just… paused.
Hesitating, hovering.
He looked at me like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. Or if he should say anything at all.
I stared at the plate. Picked up the spoon. Put it back down.
Then, flat and empty, I said, "Dad. I'm sorry. I didn't make it."
It hung there for a moment—like the air itself winced.
His face didn't crumble. It shifted slowly, like a cloud covering the sun.
He walked over and turned my chair toward him.
Kneeling to eye level, he reached out.
"It's okay," he said softly, carefully—like he was afraid I might break.
"Let's try again next year, okay?"
Then he wrapped his arms around me. Firm. Familiar.
And just like that—
The ache swelled again.
Tears I thought I'd emptied last night crept back in.
But these weren't loud.
They were quiet. Bitter. Real.
At School
The whole school felt louder than ever—yet emptier somehow.
Arkan-bearers walked like they were weightless; they shimmered faintly under their uniforms.
"I swear I felt the mana already surging!" one girl squealed, tossing her hair as if already posing for a recruitment poster. "It's like this tingle under the skin. I practically have to hold it back!"
"Ugh, lucky! I'm already thinking of the hot guys in GRID scouting for me," another replied, leaning against the lockers with a dreamy sigh. "Imagine being fast-tracked to the elite divisions just because you look good in a uniform and have a rare Arkan. It's basically a cheat code for life."
They laughed, the sound bright and careless, echoing off the walls like a physical slap. They spoke about destiny as if it were a new pair of shoes—something they were entitled to, something they hadn't even had to work for.
Every word was a jagged reminder. To them, the Celestial Weave was a party. To me, it was the funeral of the person I thought I was supposed to be.
And then there were... the rest of us.
Those without Arkan sat quieter. Still. Like we were trying not to take up space.
No one said it, but it hung in the air: You didn't glow. You didn't belong.
On my way to my classroom, I passed a guy being cornered by three others.
"You're eighteen and still no thread?" one of them sneered, yanking at his sleeve.
"Guess the universe just… skipped you."
He didn't even look up. Just clutched his bag tighter and walked off, shoulders hunched, silence dragging behind him like a shadow.
I kept moving—hood up, eyes down. Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time I slid into my seat, I didn't say a word. Just sank and disappeared into myself.
Headphones in. Volume up.
Like cranking the sound could somehow turn down the rest of the world.
Then, a hand entered my view.
I looked up.
Yinoh.
He said nothing—just held out a small bottle. Strawberry yogurt milk.
The flavor I never said out loud, but he knew I loved it.
I took it, the chill of it grounding me more than I wanted to admit.
He slid into the seat beside me and popped open his own.
No forced smile. No dumb questions.
Just quiet.
Safe.
Present.
And somehow, in all that noise—
That was the loudest kind of comfort I needed.
Lunch Break
I tried to stay unnoticed, slowly walking in line to get lunch at the cafeteria with Yinoh while sipping another Yogurt milk.
Hoods up. Head down.
But of course… peace never lasts.
BAM!
A shoulder crashed into mine, hard enough to knock my drink to the floor, splashing across the tiles.
"Oops," a voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Didn't see you there. Guess it's hard to notice someone who's not… glowing."
I looked up.
Ruvane.
Tall. Broad. Always angry—like his body was too big to contain whatever was rotting inside.
The kind of guy who bullied before getting an Arkan—and now just had a spotlight to do it under.
His once-black hair was now red with a streak of white, still faintly shimmering from yesterday's ritual. His skin glowed too, a soft celestial sheen—like even his molecules were bragging.
"Still empty, huh?" Ruvane snorted, folding his arms. "Guess the Moon's got taste, after all."
I didn't respond. Just wiped the splattered milk off my jacket with my hand, refusing to meet his eyes. My heart thudded—not with fear.
With shame.
With the kind of quiet ache that settles where words should have been.
Don't react. Don't let him win.
I didn't need to.
A hand suddenly shoved Ruvane back—hard.
Yinoh stepped in front of me. One hand in his pocket. Calm. Measured. Like a storm that already knew how the winds would bend.
No panic. No raised voice. Just presence.
His eyes didn't burn with anger—they scanned Ruvane. Flat. Unimpressed. Like he was just a fly buzzing too close to his food.
"…You done?" Yinoh asked, voice cold as slate.
Ruvane scoffed. "Just reminding the Arkan rejects where they belong."
Yinoh tilted his head.
"You want attention that badly?" he said, completely unfazed. "Did your house run out?"
A twitch pulled at Ruvane's grin as he leaned in closer.
"Big mouth for someone babysitting a threadless," he shot back.
Yinoh's tone didn't rise—it sank. Flat. Ice-cold.
He took one slow step forward.
"Keep talking," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "And I'll make sure everyone knows who you are before you got your glow."
A ripple of whispers ran through the nearby students—gossip firing like sparks.
Ruvane looked around—saw the eyes.
"Tch." He scoffed, backing off. "Whatever. Enjoy your pity party, losers."
He stormed off, muttering curses under his breath.
I stared at Yinoh.
"You didn't have to do that…"
Yinoh returned to the line.
"I know," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "But you didn't deserve that."
He held out his own unopened yogurt milk, nudging it toward my hand.
"And also—" He stooped down to pick up my fallen bottle, shaking the last few drops out of the cap. "This was expensive. That idiot owes me fifteen Orins for this."
I blinked.
Then smiled.
Even in the middle of my lowest point…
I'm glad I wasn't alone.
Later, after having lunch
The sharp chime of the school bell faded.
Then the intercom crackled to life.
"All newly recognized Arkan-bearers are to proceed to the gymnasium after the final period. GRID Orientation and registration will begin immediately. Please bring your identification cards."
Chatter instantly erupted in the halls.
Excitement. Nervousness. Pride.
I looked down at the gym field.
Yinoh was already out there—laughing, sprinting across the grass, kicking around a worn-out soccer ball with some classmates like he used to, even before having Arkan.
His glow was fainter now. But it was still there.
I sat quietly in the bleachers under the shade. Watching.
The sun filtered through the lattice above, painting broken patterns on the concrete floor. Another bottle of yogurt milk was still cold in my hand. But I hadn't taken a single sip.
He looks so... light.
Like the burden I'd been carrying wasn't his to feel.
And that was fine. That was how it should be.
Still, I couldn't ignore the silence sitting in my chest.
The one that started last night—and hadn't left since.
After Class
I was gathering my things when Yinoh appeared beside me, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Hey," he said. "Orientation's starting soon. Think you can wait for me? I'll walk you home after."
I paused.
He was still trying. Still including me in the little ways he knew how.
But something in me… just didn't want to wait.
I forced a small smile.
"Can't. Dad asked me to run an errand before dinner. Said it was urgent."
His face faltered. Just a bit.
"Oh… okay."
He hesitated like he wanted to say more. But he just nodded.
"Alright. I guess, see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
We exchanged a wave.
Then I turned and walked off—alone—leaving the room and his glow behind me.
I wasn't angry at him. Not even jealous.
But something inside me was changing.
And I didn't know yet if that was good… or dangerous to our bond.