《A Gram of Knowledge》


 Sentence for the Damned

    The first time I met Dael¡¯s eyes, it felt like I had stopped breathing. The frantic beating of my heart and the fluttering in my stomach were not love at first sight, or an unrealistic beauty that could freeze time. If it was, cold transpiration wouldn¡¯t be trailing behind my back, nor would I struggle to control the trembling of my hands.


    Dael¡¯s eyes were like an abyss, sucking out all the light and happiness that dared approach her proximity. It was as if the patch of grass she was sitting on had withered just by her being on it. An aura of intangible danger permeated every single one of my pores, even if Dael was so far away from me.


    Dael wore a long white jumpsuit almost reaching her feet. It was tightly clasped around her body just as the other people in the garden, wearing it as if it was a uniform. However, unlike how the outfit identified who was a deviant, it was as if Dael¡¯s uniform was for a completely different purpose. I guessed The whiteness of the fabric protected the world from her skin¨Cfrom the toxicity she emanated. Otherwise, her dermis would putrefy everything beautiful and good in this world.


    The beating of my heart was fear, the fluttering of my stomach, nausea.


    I could almost taste the bile in my throat¨C the burning behind it¨C as I stood petrified, like a statue long forgotten by everyone except from the eyes that could see past me.


    A voice in my head whispered Dael would be the end of me, and I ¨Cas weird as it was¨C wholeheartedly agreed with it. If Dael''s eyes could almost tear me apart -or at least I felt they did¨C then it was obvious her hands were capable of more frightening things. unnamed actions that would culminate with death, or in a more unfortunate case, in a prolonged and slow pain that would drag out for eons.


    ¡°Stop wasting my time!¡± Vincent''s push carried a considerable strength, making me fall to my knees, scratching them against the cold and jagged stone. If for some reason the deviants were not watching me, assessing the newcomer that would join their ranks, now every single one of them was paying rapt attention.


    Though it was short-lived, as deviants tended to have a short attention span when it came to matters other than their cursed magic. There was no hurry to pry open what hid behind my skin, they knew it, I did too. They would have all the time in the world later, when I started to serve my sentence.


    Only one gaze continued watching every movement, every twitch of my lips, every tremble of my shoulders, how I slowly got up. Even though I was standing straight ¨C something I rarely did, always preferring to slouch over, to make myself appear smaller, less intimidating¨C and keeping my face expressionless, I felt Dael knew how I truly felt beneath, when I didn¡¯t even know myself what I was exactly feeling.


    How could a stranger give the impression they knew everything about you, every emotion you felt, every secret you tried to keep hidden? To Know things about yourself you weren¡¯t even aware of?


    There was a constant thrumming pricking my fingertips, slowly extending towards my arms like crawling ants. It had started ever since I read the book and was accompanied by a strange urge I couldn¡¯t quite place.


    Was Dael aware of what it was?


    As thankful as I was towards Vincent, his push was the reason I was no longer in a trance, trapped in the black hole of her eyes, my knees stung and were slightly bleeding.


    Everybody had heard rumors about the Zorad Tower, the magic tower akin to a prison, so different from the Treller Tower, where invention and progress were achieved with the effort of hundreds of magicians from all around the world, not only from the Alguise Kingdom, where the Tower was located.


    Unlike the Treller Tower I had once visited, the Zorad Tower in the south was dilapidated, almost in shambles. There were cracks in every wall, grime sticking to every surface like a parasite. The garden Marie had seen was more like a jungle, no flowers or bushes were trimmed, the little life that remained in that garden was due to the plant¡¯s own persistence, refusing to perish among gloom and despondency. I knew I had to be just like them, tenacious and resilient.


    The guards of the Zorad tower were practically untouchable, any aggression towards them spelled punishment. Depending on the degree, it could even lead to death.


    Vincent dragged me until we left the field and entered the tower. I could feel the exact moment Dael¡¯s gaze abandoned my back, fear no longer gripping me tightly by the shoulders, only uncertainty. Most of the other guards standing around the peripheries had only glanced at me with hatred. If they felt like it, punching, kicking, and even killing a deviant would come with no consequences, and I¨Cwas a deviant too.


    ¡°Vincent Bierhals reporting with a new deviant.¡± Vincent''s expression scrunched up, the words ¡®deviant¡¯ clearly leaving a sour taste in his mouth.


    The imponent doors opened, revealing a long hall full of paintings on every inch of the walls. They depicted beasts, people, and creatures from the worst of nightmares. I felt they were also looking at me, however, I realized it was only the paranoia the remanent of Dael¡¯s gaze had left.


    There was a metal door at the end of the hall, with just a small opening covered by metal bars.


    We walked in silence, approaching the door with each step. I had no idea what was behind the door. I felt she was being dragged to the slaughterhouse, but at least I was glad Vincent was the one doing it.


    As if hearing my thoughts, the grip on my wrist loosened.


    ¡°Marie¡­¡± Vincent mumbled. looking at his profile, I noticed there was no abnormality, except for the strain in his jaw covered by his rough stubble, as he was clenching it with¨Cwhat I thought was¨C an exaggerated strength able to shatter his own teeth. ¡°I hate you.¡±


    I remained silent.


    ¡°You¡¯re a disappointment.¡± Vincent continued; his dry lips slightly trembling.


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°I thought you knew better, I never wanted to see you.¡±


    ¡®You think I wanted to?¡¯ was left unsaid.


    ¡°Can you say anything at all?¡± Vincent yelled, his voice breaking at the end. He let go of my wrist and brought his hands to his face.


    There wasn¡¯t anything I could say.


    I didn¡¯t want to see Vincent either, at least not like this.


    Nobody would want to see their friends in these circumstances.


    Having received no response, Vincent looked beyond frustrated. Standing in the middle of the hallway, he turned around.


    Vincent¡¯s actions were pointless, I was sure of it. Even if he showed me his sturdy back, I couldn¡¯t run away. Even if he had let go of my wrist, I still needed to follow him. Vincent knew that too. However, if his superiors knew what he was doing, leaving his back exposed to a deviant, he would¡¯ve been fired and punished.


    If he knew it was pointless, then what was he doing? Was he betting on the impossible chance that I knew a way to escape?


    I scoffed, the first sound I had made ever since meeting Vincent. My attempt to remain silent had been disrupted by indignation. Vincent surely was a hypocrite, showing his back so I could escape when he had done the same thing three years ago, only that during that time, the back I had seen departed without even a single farewell.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± Vincent asked, I knew what he was referring to, still, I wanted to ask him the same.


    Why did you leave without a word, was it something I had done? Did I bother you?


    ¡°Curiosity,¡± I answered instead, at least I wouldn¡¯t be like Vincent, ignoring others for the sake of it. I would at least tell him why she was at the Zorad Tower, and while it may sound as an unreasonable reason, it was the truth.


    ¡°Curiosity killed the cat,¡± Vincent abruptly turned around, chuckling with no mirth behind it. He glared at me, slightly raising his head to meet my eyes. ¡°What a lame and pathetic excuse, curiosity you say.¡±


    Vincent grabbed Marie¡¯s wrist once again, this time with a herculean strength threatening to break my bones. ¡°Curiosity will be your end.¡±


    ¡°Vincent, you¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t say my name.¡± Vincent continued dragging me, I was tugged around with almost no effort, like a leaf against the wind. ¡°From now on you will only refer to me as Guard Bierhals, Deviant Lander. Do you understand?¡±


    That¡¯s it? Did Vincent sever our friendship¨Cor the crumbling vestiges of it¨C just like that? No explanations, not letting me talk nor make questions. There was no trace of the friend I had grown up with, running around in our village until the sun went down. Only a guard that hated a deviant. It was normal though, everybody hated deviants. Why had I thought Vincent would be different?


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    Curiosity would not be the end of me, at least not regarding Vincent, since the last thing I wanted to do right was to be involved in any of his affairs. He could die for all I cared.


    ¡°Understood, Guard Bierhals.¡± I hoped my voice didn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°Good.¡± Finally reaching the metal door, Vincent opened it by injecting some of his mana into the lock, each person¡¯s mana was unique to them, an identifying trait.


    The interior of the Zorad tower wasn¡¯t as I had expected.


    For an exterior so poorly maintained, the interior was surprisingly tidy. Still, there was an oppressive feeling emanating from the walls, as if trying to crush me.


    Desks were filled with secretaries processing other deviants. All their expressions were cold and unwelcoming, though at the same time it gave the impression of them not being there. The deviants they were interrogating seemed on the verge of tears, anxious or some had a sick grin adorning their faces.


    For some reason, it gave me the impression of guards checking the identities of others at the border.


    Vincent brought me to one of the secretaries. He forcibly sat me down in front of the secretary¡¯s desk, without any regard for my long and cramped legs under it. Vincent stood against the wall without saying a word. He ignored the guards standing next to him, trying to start conversations.


    ¡°Name?¡± The woman asked, her black uniform and Vincent¡¯s red one were characteristic of the Zorad¡¯s South Tower. It made her look respectable and professional, the quality reflecting they were worlds apart. Her tidy blonde hair made her feel refined, noble even.


    ¡°Marie Lander.¡±


    The woman nodded and started writing a form. Different from normal secretaries, there wasn¡¯t a tag on her chest. There was no way for me to know her name.


    ¡°Aristocrat or commoner?¡±


    ¡°Commoner.¡± I clenched the hem of my scraped pants. My hands were full of sweat, and I felt the world had started to spin, the edges of my vision becoming slightly black as if the prickling of my skin that had made my fingers numb had extended to my vision. The voices, mumbles, and cries of the deviants were too loud, and the room was completely filled with the odor of sweat.


    ¡°What book did you read?¡±


    Curiosity was the reason I was here, I was too curious and read a book I shouldn¡¯t have. Forbidden knowledge was forbidden for a reason.


    I couldn¡¯t remember the color of the book¡¯s cover or where it had come from. When I read it the words didn¡¯t make sense. The letters were like waves spilling over the pages, reaching into me, and forcibly ingraining themselves in my mind. The pain I¡¯d felt back then was unbearable. I had passed out trying to keep on reading, even though I knew it would be harmful to myself and to my future. When my consciousness had returned, I had been surrounded by The Inspectors, a branch of the knights known for their power and ruthlessness.


    A long timeframe was gone from my memory, leaving disconnected patches of events. I had no recollection of my actions during that time, but it was enough to earn me the label of deviant. I only wished I didn¡¯t hurt anybody that deserved it, not wishing to harm any bystanders or innocent people going about their day, struggling as much as I did.


    It felt unreal, becoming a deviant. Nothing had changed except for a strange urge I have been feeling after reading the book, as if the nasty and dirty sensation was a proof of reading what I shouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Seven.¡± That was the only thing I remembered of the book, I wasn¡¯t even sure if that was the real title.


    The secretary continued writing.


    ¡°What will happen to me?¡± I asked, my leg bumping against the desk each time I moved them. The only thing I knew was that deviants resided in the Zorad tower but had no knowledge of what happened to them.


    The secretary gave no response, nor did her expression change. It even made me question whether I had opened my mouth in the first place.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± A deviant screamed, rising from his seat.


    Startled by the sudden commotion, I flinched; however, the secretary in front of me didn¡¯t seem to mind the actions of the deviant.


    ¡°Take a seat.¡± The secretary that had been accompanying that deviant calmly ordered, he didn¡¯t seem perturbed by the man pointing his hands at him, ready to cast a spell.


    ¡°No! You shall let me leave this filthy place. Return me to my library in this instant.¡±


    ¡°This is your last warning, return to your seat.¡±


    ¡°I just want to go back and read, what¡¯s the big deal?¡± The deviant grinned, his eyes bloodshot. He seemed like a madman. I could feel how he gathered mana from the surroundings, ready to attack those who stood in his way. ¡°I am Count Elliad''s son, what are you going to do eh? You can¡¯t touch me; my father would end you. If I don¡¯t take a seat, what are you goi-¡°


    Splat.


    And just like that, he ceased to be.


    The deviant that confidently threatened the secretary was nothing but a puddle of crimson and crushed organs. He didn¡¯t have time to scream nor to protest.


    I remembered a painting a friend of mine once did. Bored out of his mind, he just started pouring painting on top of a white canvas, with no direction. It overflowed, spilling into the floor until he run out of it. His painting ended up as an incoherent image, only appreciable by its disorder and chaos.


    Somehow, the scene I was witnessing reminded me of that, but instead of just red paint of different shades, it was a crimson accompanied by a thick coppery smell and the sight of the unrecognizable body along intestines laying around.


    I puked, but instead of the relief it usually brought me when I was sick, the burning behind my throat only increased more. It felt like my stomach hated me, churning, and turning until there was no more bile left, only strings of saliva. I would never forget such a scene, I was sure the other deviants wouldn¡¯t too, as they were also vomiting.


    I had always guessed deviants were people devoid of feelings, already accustomed to slaughter and death but it seemed I was wrong.


    Apart from the sound of retching and gagging, there was no other sound, no other words uttered. All of us were afraid to join the pile of organs and be by its side forever.


    That magic was too weird, too terrifying. It was just not normal. Such a thing couldn¡¯t be done with elemental magic nor spiritual arts. If anything, I thought that power deserved to be locked down instead of me.


    The one responsible for such power appeared to be the secretary assigned to the deviant, his grey eyes looked steady, no change in his behavior even after killing a man.


    I was glad she didn¡¯t try to escape.


    ¡°Deviant Lander, you¡¯ll reside in the tower for two years,¡± The woman hadn¡¯t stopped writing even after such a carnage happened. All secretaries had continued with their jobs. ¡°Your room will be on the 12th floor. All the information you¡¯ll need is in the paper.¡±


    The secretary handed me the paper she had been working on, it was filled with too many words. There was almost no blank space in it.


    The paper wasn¡¯t reader-friendly, and the font size was too small to be able to decern unless one stuck their face to the paper.


    Before i could even begin to read it, the black at the edges of my vision expanded until it was the only thing in my sight.


    What had happened? Was it another weird magic? Had they turned me blind?


    ¡°Guard Bierhals, escort Deviant Lander to the 12th floor.¡±


    I could only hear steps approaching me.


    ¡°Follow me.¡± Vincent''s baritone voice said.


    I made no move; I didn¡¯t know where I was facing towards.


    Then everything became silent.


    There were no cries and screams from the deviants, no more questions being asked by the secretaries, nor the muttered insults made by the guards.


    No sound.


    I tried to speak but heard nothing.


    I tried to ask for help but there was no reply.


    I screamed, begged for anybody, but there was no response.


    What a wicked magic it was.


    I had never felt more vulnerable in my life. Not even the day I lost my parents¨C when I had felt completely incompetent and helpless.


    The only thing preventing me from losing my mind was the sour taste in my mouth.


    And the return of the firm grip on my wrist.


    I winced; I couldn¡¯t see but there were probably dark red imprints of Vincent¡¯s hands on my wrists.


    I was dragged, stumbling over my own steps, not knowing where I was heading to.


    I almost slipped with something. No idea what it was, just that it felt wet and viscous because of my bare feet.


    Please, someone, tell me it¡¯s not what I think it is. It¡¯s just water, right? Someone might have spilled water. Even though I didn¡¯t see any cups, I bet the secretaries have cups filled with beverages, something to quench their thirst. That has to be it, I didn¡¯t see a cup but if they were made from porcelain when they fell, they must have broken apart and the liquid was spilled onto the floor. I just didn¡¯t hear when the cup broke because there wasn¡¯t any way I could. That was it right? Please somebody tell me I¡¯m right.


    Vincent increased his pace; it was even harder to keep up with him.


    I was uncomfortable, I tried to talk again, to make a sound but I was met with nothingness.


    Feeling a strain in my throat, I stopped.


    My clothes stuck to my body due to the sweat, but I was glad it did. Any sensation, no matter how unpleasant, proved that I was still there, still present. My tears trailing down my cheeks didn¡¯t bother me either.


    I tripped on what I thought were stairs and I believed I was right by how Vincent was tugging my wrist upwards.


    One step, then another. It was done carefully, with no sudden movement.


    At first, I constantly tripped. I got used to it soon though, walking upstairs smoothly.


    I grounded herself with the smooth texture of the paper in one hand, and the painful touch of Vincent in the other.


    A long time passed, after all, according to the secretary they were heading towards the 12th floor.


    I was only able to hear my thoughts, stuck with what I knew was my worst enemy.


    Had they taken away my senses so she wouldn¡¯t figure out what path I had come from?


    No matter how you looked at it, it was overkill. There was no need to go to such lengths, nobody would try to escape after the scene where the deviants were being processed.


    Was it torture? A punishment designed only to make me suffer? To make me feel hopeless?


    My legs ached; my breathing was ragged.


    It was just too many stairs. Couldn¡¯t they use magic or something to make the stairs shorter?


    Vincent let go of my arm. I stood still, with a lump in my throat, not knowing what to do.


    Then, my skin broke into goosebumps. I just wanted to return to my small house in the vicinities of the capital¨Cnot quite inside it¨Csurrounded by a forest, where happiness was enclosed between four walls. Where I could walk downstairs and start working in the library, I had poured my heart and soul into it.


    Back then, my only concern had been to decide what book I wanted to read; now, my future was full of uncertainty. Whether I came alive from this place filled with dangerous deviants depended entirely on my actions.


    just as my sight and hearing had disappeared, they returned.


    It was too abrupt, the blast of sounds and light leaving me disoriented.


    My eyes took some seconds to get used to the brightness, having only seen infinite darkness for goddess knows how long.


    Multiple voices reverberated against my skull. Their conversations invaded my ears out of nowhere, pounding against my forehead and around my temples.


    As I got used to the return of my senses, I examined my surroundings.


    It wasn¡¯t what I had expected. Instead of Vincent, there were Marble floors with no sign of any blemish covered by a red velvet carpet. A long hall with multiple doors on each side. Deviants were going in and out of the rooms connected to them. They smiled, talked, and laughed. There were some that carried elegance with their every move, others rough in speech and appearance, there were even demi-humans.


    It was as if they weren¡¯t paying attention, however, I could feel their gaze cast onto me.


    They watched my every move from the corner of their eyes.


    I would have mistaken this place for a hotel or an inn, a peaceful place where guests enjoyed their stay, was it not for the white jumpsuits they all wore, or the unsavory gaze I had been subjected to before, coming from Dael, standing at the end of the hall.

 Creepy roommate

    [author]I realized the story works better in first person as the feelings of others would be hard to decipher based on Marie''s perspective. I want to create an air of uncertainty and distrust and I think is done better in first person. As such, the first chapter has been revised with the addition of little details. [/author]


    The Alguise Kingdom was known for a vast number of reasons. It was known as the kingdom of hope or the kingdom of magic. A place where, if you worked hard enough, your dreams would be fulfilled.


    Foreigners, merchants, and tourists said every corner of every street breathed with magic. Its residents smiled and were immensely grateful to the royal family, the so-called descendants of the God of prosperity. Said Royal family was blessed by the world, beloved by everyone. Thanks to their blessings, there were harvests every season, and farmers would gladly pay high taxes due to their high earnings.


    When a tourist had told me his impression of the kingdom, I had been truly irritated and understood why people said ignorance was bliss.


    To them, it was the kingdom of magic and prosperity, but to all of the residents outside the capital, Capdone, it was a place where your life was never guaranteed.


    In the other cities and towns, crime and corruption ran rampant. The sight of vagabonds, thieves, and criminals was so common it even blended with the landscape. Hell, even the occasional dead body in the streets would be shrugged upon when found. Guards were incompetent and would ignore most of the crimes, only actually worrying about ones committed by certain individuals ¡ªdeviants


    Merchants would gather in places where population and money circulated, and everywhere else except Capdone was not it.


    Capdone was in the north, it was like heaven on earth, with new magical inventions being created every year, bringing even more life to the capital. All of this was due to the magnificent Treller Tower, gathering talented magicians from every corner of the kingdom and even others.


    If Capdone was blessed by the god of prosperity, then the god himself had crushed the rest of the kingdom and spit in the already festering wound.


    Foreigners had heard of another magic tower in the kingdom; however, it was ignored in favor of the more attractive Treller Tower whose first floor was open to the public.


    In contrast, the Zorad Tower in the south was a dull prison that would become my personal hell for the next two years.


    ¡°Wow, and what¡¯s the name of this tower?¡± A voice, accompanied by the slight fragrance of lavender and mint, snapped me out of a daze. As it happened before, I felt like she was slowly sinking in muddy waters, struggling till I drowned at the bottom of a swamp. That was the effect Dael had on me, and if I were to guess by the expression of the people in my vicinity, it was the same for everyone else.


    To avoid losing myself, I wiped out my tears with my sleeve and focused on the voice talking to me instead of the menacing presence of Dael, and the weight of her gaze.


    The head of the man who had talked reached my chest but coming out from his head were ears similar to a cat¡¯s¨CThey were the same color as his hair, a dark scarlet. By no means was he short, however, compared to me, perhaps he felt lacking.


    It felt good to see people with non-human features, it meant they weren¡¯t the snobby folks I despised the most. They still were deviants so that meant I hated them all the same.


    My mouth felt dry and raspy. Were I respond to the man, who seemed to be searching for something in my face with his blue eyes, my voice would come out hoarse and grating. I didn¡¯t want to show weakness of any form. Even if I were in top-notch condition, I had no intention of talking at all, the vilest people in the kingdom didn¡¯t deserve my words.


    ¡°Tough audience? It¡¯s okay though, you¡¯ll warm up to us soon enough.¡± The man said, he momentarily turned around, exchanging silent words through gazes with another shorter man resting against a door. The latter¡¯s head was covered by dark curls the color of oak and his body was shrouded with a distant sensation as if he wasn¡¯t even there. It gave me the impression those two had known each other for a long time and I felt immensely jealous. They were probably able to guess what the other was thinking by looking at their eyes, it was how I was with Vincent a long time ago, and to a lesser extent with Corpo.


    ¡°Whether you like it or not.¡± He added with a toothy grin.


    The man snatched the paper from my hands, reading what were essentially instructions given to me.


    I tried to get it back, however, the man was nimble, and I didn¡¯t want to embarrass myself pursuing someone on my first day at the Zorad Tower. Seeing that I didn¡¯t have the intention of getting back what was once mine, he clicked his tongue. I glared back at him, hoping it would discourage him from talking to me, but it was unsuccessful.


    ¡°By the way, the name¡¯s Oscar Fuchs.¡± The man introduced himself while he scanned the contents of my paper. His eyes widened slightly, a gesture that would¡¯ve gone unnoticed, had I not been staring at his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re unlucky or not, you¡¯ll be staying in the same room as Vert but, then again, that¡¯s Lemberg¡¯s room, too.¡±


    I had thought all of them ¡ª including me ¡ª would be confined to single cells, but by what he was telling me, there were no cells, just rooms shared with other deviants.


    The other deviants had continued talking; however, I knew they were eavesdropping on whatever came out of Fuchs¡¯s fanged mouth.


    ¡°There,¡± Fuchs pointed at the second last door at the end of the hall, his finger almost pointed at Dael ¡ª making me feel a primal fear for Fuchs as if grieving a living man I cared not of, since I felt his finger was going to be severed in the next second. Luckily for him, he was pointing at the man he had exchanged glances with earlier, now resting his back against the door of the room with his eyes closed. ¡°That¡¯ll be your room. Your secretary sure was kind, they wrote everything you need to know about this place, well everything except who not to mess with.¡±


    Even if the secretary had done that, I wouldn¡¯t have messed with anybody at all, rather, I wanted to remain quiet, unnoticed, with little to no interaction with others until I was released from the Tower.


    ¡°Are you mute?¡± Fuchs asked, returning the paper he had stolen, ¡°If you are then you¡¯ll get along with Lemberg perfectly fine, as long as you follow his beck and call. You don¡¯t seem the type to do it though.¡±


    Fuchs grabbed my wrist, ready to take me to my new room, but a painful grunt escaped my lips.


    ¡°Look at that, you can speak! And here I thought you were the same as Dael.¡± Fuchs glanced at the reddish marks turning purple on my wrists, then at my face. Startled, Fuchs released his grip, giving a nervous chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, I¡¯m really sorry. The guard¡¯s brutality is the same as always, eh?¡±


    Instead of my wrist, Fuchs gripped my sleeve ¡ªwith a softness I¡¯d not expected coming from some like him, a deviant gentler than Vincent himself ¡ªand guided me to the room I would be staying in.


    The man leaning against the door opened his eyes, his indifference no longer concealed by his eyelids. I felt she was being observed by a predator, but I knew the goosebumps on my skin were not because of him, they were caused by Dael, as creepy as she always was. The man was shorter compared to Fuchs, but he had a stronger presence.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    When the man¡¯s gaze landed on Fuchs, it was as if all apathy had been washed away, melted, and only left the familiarity felt between friends. He stepped out of the way, letting Fuchs enter a room that wasn¡¯t even his.


    Interesting but at the same time inconvenient.


    The inside of the room was what I would have expected from public dorms I had seen before. There were two bunk beds resting against opposite walls. Each mattress seemed comfortable enough to sink on them, covered by silk sheets and pillows that appeared to be stuffed with the feathers of mythological creatures, I guessed, as with my untrained eyes I could see it was high quality. Near the corner of the wall was a small nightstand, giving the room a cozy feeling. Above the nightstand, there was a portrait of a man. He looked similar to the grand wizard of the Treller Tower, only the color of his irises was different ¡ª a yellow akin to gold instead of the purple everybody knew him for. The portrait gave me the same impression the paintings of the hall¨Cthe one where Vincent had shown his back¨Cdid.


    The wall opposite the nightstand had been changed to an enormous closet behind an accordion door with enough space to be a room on its own. At the side of one of the bunk beds, there was a desk wide enough for two people to read or work using it. Small stones on its wooden surface made it seem as if it was the desk of a child with a knack for collecting stones from the banks of the river.


    This was not a prison, just a temporary and comfortable stay for people that didn¡¯t even deserve to be treated as humans.


    Was this where my taxes went? When I left the place and returned to my home, tax evasion would be the next step. I could learn from the scammer I had once befriended out of boredom.


    ¡°That bunk bed is empty.¡± Fuchs guided me to the beds on the left, ¡°You can choose whichever you want.¡±


    I chose the lowest bed, if for some reason I needed to run, I would not waste more time than was necessary.


    ¡°Give your clothes to Vert after you change, he will throw them away later.¡±


    Something in my face must have told him I found what he said odd, so Fuchs explained with a bright smile, ¡°Vert is the guy that was leaning against the door. Very dashing, isn¡¯t he?¡± Looking at my clothes with an almost jealous expression Fuchs added, ¡°Also, you are one of us so start dressing as if you belonged here.¡±


    With those words, Fuchs left the room. I could hear his retreating voice through the door, probably talking with Vert, until both were so far away, that their voices vanished.


    I stood in the silent room, the only sound was my deep breathing.


    With the voices, the scents left too.


    I hadn¡¯t realized it at first. The lack of scents wasn¡¯t really something commented on unless prompted. Only one¡¯s attention would be dragged to a disgusting smell, like the coopery aroma I had the displeasure to notice before.


    Opening the accordion door, I could only see pure whiteness. The closet was filled to the brim with white jumpsuits ¡ªit was the prisoner¡¯s outfits for deviants ¡ªof large sizes, probably made for men. It was logical, as far as I had seen, the majority of men were deviants.


    Even though I carefully took my clothes off, I winced¨C the fabric of the pants still grazed the scratches on my knees.


    When removing my shirt, I noticed that I didn¡¯t smell my own sweat.


    I was confused, I had been oozing cold transpiration ever since I placed a step on the Zorad Tower but now there was no odor.


    Taking a deep breath, I noticed the faint fragrance of mint and lavender along with that of leather¨Cthat belonged to the room ¡ª had completely disappeared.


    Was this another weird curse someone had cast onto me?


    First my sight and hearing, and now smell?


    How cruel could the secretaries be¡ªI believed they had been the ones to cast such a spell, the guards were known for their brutish strength, not their proficiency in magic ¡ªenjoying my suffering, depriving me of my senses, when I was disoriented enough.


    Deviants were awful people but the secretaries weren¡¯t any better.


    I sighed, feeling miserable and despondent.


    Two years, I reminded herself, two years and that was it. Two years could pass in the blink of an eye, I wouldn¡¯t even realize when it was all over. I hoped my stay would be like a short nightmare. I would close my eyes ¡ªmy eyelids hiding any feelings ¡ª and then I would be greeted by Corpo, who was promoted to my one and only friend after what Vincent had said.


    Thinking about Corpo or Vincent would only depress me further, so I went back to the task at hand. Using my black shirt, I tried to wipe out the dry blood from the wound on my knee.


    I was ready to clean the sticky substance I had stepped on before.


    To my horror it was what I feared and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. my attempt to calm down was unsuccessful. I retched, my closed eyes seeing a different color from the black that had tormented me earlier.


    I opened my eyes, but the image of a mush of red was still present, haunting me.


    I cleaned my feet while looking directly at the golden eyes of the portrait in the room.


    While trying to control my breathing, I reached for the jumpsuit of the largest size and wore it. I was thankful it was a two-piece jumpsuit, otherwise, going to the bathroom would''ve become a burdensome task.


    The largest size was not enough for me, the hem of the pants reaching the middle of my shin. The white sleeves¡ªThat in Dael covered her whole arm¨Conly covered until the middle of my forearm.


    Having finished dressing, I clasped the jumpsuit and folded the shirt and pants I had taken off, laying them at the top of the desk. Fuchs had said to give it to Vert, but he was nowhere to be seen and I didn¡¯t want to talk to him, less go out of the room¨Caway from the little safety it provided¨C to find him.


    Sitting in my new bed¡ªnot that it was something to celebrate¡ª I read the contents of the paper the secretary gave me. It contained a floorplan of the 12th floor that only indicated where the restrooms were. Additionally, the schedule of the times to shower, eat and sleep were written. Between those times, there were limited places you could go to pass time and not become insane due to boredom.


    The time when the 11th and 10th floors opened was also specified. The 11th floor was divided into three sections: the library, the cafeteria, and the showers. The library and showers opened most of the time. The library only closed when new books were added or maintenance was needed. The showers were always open to whoever at any time. On the other hand, the cafeteria opened only during breakfast, lunch, and dinnertime.


    On the 10th floor resided more deviants so I had no intention to venture into it.


    There was no more information about the other floors, as it was unnecessary. However, according to the paper, a deviant could go to the garden via a teleportation circle near the library.


    I felt the exhaustion in each of my bones, my body begging for rest.


    It was the second most stressful day in my life. I only wanted to sink into the mattress and sleep, hoping that tomorrow, when I opened my eyes, I would realize that all of this was just a bad dream. That I didn¡¯t see a man get squashed to death, that I hadn¡¯t been brought to the tower¨Cthat Vincent didn¡¯t crush our friendship.


    Covering herself with a blanket, I tried to fall asleep, and while my body begged for rest, my mind didn¡¯t. It wandered around circles, thinking about what if and whatnots. Reminiscing about every wrong decision I had made that led me to this moment in time.


    Vincent was half-right; curiosity was a frightening thing. It killed, it massacred, it only spelled doom when it came to the books left by the worst Magician. It had left me stranded in the tower, with only one acquaintance that hated me and surrounded by hyenas with unknown intentions.


    My parents used to admonish me by repeating a saying whenever I wandered outside the village, into the forests, and near Capdone.


    Curiosity killed the cat.


    And it had, indeed, killed my freedom.


    But somehow, the cat was still moving after being buried six feet under.


    As long as the cat could move, it would turn curiosity into its shovel.


    The library probably had information I needed to survive. Books that, while not forbidden, could serve some purpose to the deviants.


    Every deviant stuck in here was a source of information, and while I didn¡¯t have any intention to interact with them, observing others could be more useful.


    Learning who was harmless or who was dangerous was the only way to remain safe.


    And what was most important was to learn what power I was given by the book. It was common sense that every deviant had a bizarre power, so I probably had one too.


    I just hoped it wasn¡¯t something revolting that made hills of bones.


    To learn all that I needed to learn, I needed to rest.


    With new determination, I tried to sleep, yet again, I wasn¡¯t able to.


    Not because of my thoughts though, this time, what kept me awake was the creaking of a door as it opened.


    Was it Vert? Had he returned to get the clothes?


    I cursed at the carpet inside my heart, if there wasn¡¯t any, I would have been able to hear the approaching footsteps of whoever had entered the room.


    I stayed motionless, even held my breath, to try to remain unnoticed. Maybe if I stayed still, I would disappear too.


    In the silent room, the breathing of someone near felt immensely loud.


    Even more so as it approached my bed.


    Whoever had just entered had the hobby of being a fucking creep.


    They remained standing next by my side. I could feel their eyes on my skin. Ever since Dael had looked at me, I started noticing when people observed me, but when others did it was completely different than the sensation Dael¡¯s gaze brought, able to cause a full shudder to run through my body.


    I didn¡¯t know how much time passed until I heard movements towards the other bunk bed on the right, the rustle of clothing, and the pressure of someone against the mattress.


    After that, sleep didn¡¯t come easily, but when it did, it was short-lived, accompanied by blistering sweat and the sensation that my clothing and blankets were suffocating me.

 So Sweet, Its Rotten

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