Click. Click. Click.
Camera flashes burst across the press hall like a thousand tiny explosions. The sound bounced off the high ceiling constant, mechanical, relentless.
Ash sat in the third row. Close enough to see the podium clearly. Close enough that any reporter could turn around and find him if they wanted.
They hadn't. Yet.
The massive monitor above the stage flickered. A reporter's face filled the screen, her voice cutting through the crowd noise.
"History in the making today. Angela Sinclair, just eighteen years old, has awakened as an S-rank. The eleventh in Japan's history. The second from the legendary Sinclair family."
Applause rolled through the hall. Deafening.
Ash's hands were clenched in his lap. He tried to stop them from shaking.
It didn't work.
His reflection stared back from a camera lens three feet away, dark circles carved beneath his eyes, grey hair hanging across his forehead.
On stage, Angela stood behind the podium in a formal dress, her grey hair catching the stage lights. Her green eyes swept the crowd until they found him.
Her face brightened. A small smile. Her hand lifted in a wave.
Ash forced his mouth to move. Something that might look like a smile from a distance.
His cheeks ached from holding it.
"Miss Sinclair—" A reporter stood, microphone raised. "How does it feel to follow in your family's footsteps?"
"What message do you have for young hunters watching today?"
"Now that you've awakened, will you take over your brother's vacant guild spot?"
The questions came rapid-fire. Angela answered each one with grace, her voice steady and warm.
Ash's nails dug into his palms.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Close. Too close.
"Wait—"
"Isn't that—"
"The failure?"
The whisper started somewhere behind him and spread like an infection.
One camera turned. Then another. Then five. Ten.
Ash's face appeared on the monitor blown up, massive, every flaw examined by two thousand people at once. The dark circles. The hollow cheeks. The eyes that looked like broken glass.
SINCLAIR FAMILY'S E-RANK
The caption sat beneath his face like a verdict.
The flashes came at him now. Blinding. White spots burning into his vision.
Someone laughed.
On stage, Angela's smile faltered. Her hand dropped.
Ash kept his face neutral. Kept the smile fixed in place even though his jaw ached from the effort.
The world's youngest S-rank stood in the spotlight, and her failure of a brother sat three rows back, drowning in camera flashes that felt like they were burning him alive.
---
Back at the Sinclair mansion, Ash turned on the news before he'd even sat down properly.
"The greatest family in rift management and equipment manufacturing gives rise to another prodigy Angela Sinclair."
*"The blessed bloodline."*
"
Ash." Angela stepped into the room. "Please turn off the TV."
He didn't move.
"Ash."
He turned it off.
The door swung open. Uncle Asahi filled the frame, his smile already reaching his eyes
before he'd fully entered.
"There she is." He crossed straight to Angela and pulled her into a warm hug. "Congratulations, my dear. How did the interviews go? I hope the paparazzi didn't give you too much trouble?"
"I was nervous on the podium," Angela said, "but Ash came—"
Asahi's eyes drifted toward Ash. A half-second of recognition. Then he turned back to Angela like flipping a page.
"You have an interview tomorrow morning. You should rest." He patted her shoulder once and left.
The room went quiet.
Ash stood up.
"Where are you going?" Angela asked.
He didn't look back. "I need some rest. Congratulations, Sis."
"Ash, wait—"
He was already gone.
---
His room was dark except for the small circle of light where he sat.
Awards covered the shelves. Trophies, plaques, framed certificates. Principal's Award, IJF Judo for Children, Math Kangaroo Regional Olympiad, Global Citizen Award. The light caught each one in turn, like they were waiting to be looked at.
Ash looked at them.
He poured a glass of his best whiskey and took a slow sip.
Before the rifts,he thought. Ten years ago. Back when the word they used for him was genius.
The door opened quietly. Angela stepped in and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face against his shoulder.
Her warmth was familiar in a way that hurt. He'd forgotten how long it had been since someone held him like that.
"You can't just let yourself stay like this," she said.
"Okay." He replied
A prodigy. All these awards, and she was the prodigy.
"It's okay, Ash."
"What does that mean?" His voice came out quieter than he intended.
"It means—" She tightened her hold. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the test."
"Don't say that." He put his hand over hers. "You did everything right. What kind of brother wouldn't be proud of his sister?"
She cried anyway. Long and quiet. Eventually her breathing slowed and her weight settled heavy against him, and he looked down to find her asleep on his lap, eyes swollen.
He called for John.
The butler appeared in the doorway, took one look, and crossed the room without a word. He gathered Angela carefully and lifted her.
At the door, John paused. "Lord Ash. Is there anything else you need?"
Ash looked at the awards. At the dark room. At the empty glass.
"No," he said. "Thank you."
---
He stayed in the chair for a long time after that.
He thought about the years before the rifts. Before rankings. Before the world decided one number was the whole truth of a person. He'd been good at everything once. He'd been someone.
He refilled the glass.
He walked to the window and looked out at the city, the distant lights, the dark water, the long way down.
He went back to the chair.
Mom. Dad. Amai.
He hadn't said those names out loud in a long time.
I don't want to leave Angela alone.
He stared at the ceiling.
But I can't keep living like this.
I'm so tired.
He closed his eyes.
---
[You Died]
[Welcome To Star-Crossed Online]
[Congratulations! Hidden Class Unlocked!]
[You Have Obtained: Demon Summoner (Mythic)]
[Congratulations! Unique Attribute Unlocked!]
[You Have Obtained: Dark Mana]