His voice was nothing more than a thread, a dragged whisper rising from the bottom of a well. "Help me…"It wasn't a cry for help against a monster or an enemy.It was a cry for help against himself — against a world that had bent over his shoulders until it cracked him.
The professor — whose name he couldn't remember, though her face carried distant echoes of clan banquets he'd rather forget — froze for a second. Her sleepy expression vanished, replaced by an analytical and, surprisingly, compassionate gaze. She knelt down, bringing herself to his level.
— Breathe, — she ordered, but her voice was gentle, a sharp contrast to her earlier tone. — Look at me. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.
Samael tried. The air came in uneven gasps, but he followed her instructions. Her hand didn't touch him, but it stayed there — steady, a fixed point in a room that felt like it was spinning.
— Again, — she said.
After a few cycles, the panic began to retreat, leaving behind crushing exhaustion and a shame that burned hotter than any fever.
A few minutes after the brief collapse, Samael realized his emotions felt… strange.
As if they were dulled.Sedated.
His eyes were still swollen, and the shame burned stronger than any pain. Crying in front of someone. Asking for help. It made him deeply uncomfortable.
What is she going to do to me?Therapy? Is she going to force me into therapy?
—I don't want therapy… I don't need that,* he thought irritably. It was just a moment of sadness.
The pain of his Aspect was still there.
But not the way it should be.
It was no longer sharp pain — it was a constant, nagging agony, like something wrong was twisting inside him.
As they walked through the corridors reserved for staff, he noticed they weren't that different from the students' hallways. Same cold walls, same impersonal atmosphere.
He could easily get lost here too.
Eventually, they reached what he assumed was the professor's office.
The room was simple: a wooden desk, two chairs, a small bookshelf, and a window overlooking the academy garden.
She sat behind the desk, muttering something about being hungry, and gestured vaguely for Samael to sit in the chair across from her.
— So… — she said, crossing her arms. — What was that?
Her expression was no longer sleepy.
Her black eyes stared at him intensely, as if forcing him to give the answer she wanted to hear.
— Nothing, — he replied.
And, surprisingly, he felt lighter.
He couldn't tell if it was because he'd vented — or simply because he'd stopped running — but the pressure in his chest had eased. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his back.
— Aah… — the professor sighed, running a hand through her hair. — This is why I hate dealing with teenagers.
Her tone was irritated, but not cruel.
— You all insist on carrying the world on your own.
Samael lowered his head, feeling a faint sense of guilt.
He would never tell her what he had truly been through.
Not to her.Not to anyone.Never.
That wasn't what he wanted.And it wasn't what the old Samael would have done either.
Still…
He felt that she was a good person.
In her own way.
A good person.
— Hm… — he murmured, almost inaudibly. — I don't think someone who works as a teacher should say that.
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
— No one's listening, — she replied calmly. — So it's not a problem.
Samael didn't answer.
— Since you don't want to say what happened, I won't force you, — she continued. — But remember this: no one lives alone in this world. That's not an opinion. It's a law.
There was something in her tone.
Not arrogance.
Experience.
I know, Samael thought. I just… need time.
Time to understand that world.Time to gather allies.Time to not break.
— Now, the second question, — the professor said, leaning forward slightly. — What were you doing in the female sector?
The wind slipped in through the window, messing up her dark hair.
— Depending on your answer, you could be expelled. So think carefully before you respond.
She was serious.
And she would follow through.
What do I do…?
There was no simple answer.
His Flaw was absurdly difficult to hide.And explaining it?Practically impossible.
Hunger was starting to take its toll. His body felt weak, heavy, as if it were on the verge of shutting down.
Samael took a deep breath.
If he couldn't tell the truth…Then he would have to control the consequences.
He raised his gaze.
— You… — he began, but his voice came out weaker than planned.
He swallowed.
— You promise you won't spread this around?
For the first time since arriving in that world…
Samael decided to use his Aspect.
Not to fight.Not to survive.
But to negotiate.
— Of course. I don't like gossip, — she replied casually.
Easy to say…You're not the one about to have your Flaw exposed.
Samael clenched his teeth.
Even so, thanks to the Honest Trickster, he knew: she wasn't lying.
He took a deep breath.
— My Flaw… — he began, his voice heavy. — It changes my gender depending on the time of day.
The silence that followed wasn't shock.
It was evaluation.
— I see, — the professor said, resting her elbow on the desk. — You're an idiot.
The word landed dry and blunt.
— You tried to hide a Flaw that's impossible to hide. Obviously that wasn't going to work.
Seriously?I'd like to see you in my place.
Anger flared up fast and hot.
His eyes drifted, unwillingly, to a badge lying on the desk.
Layla Stern.
Of course…A Legacy.
Spoiled people always talked like they knew everything.
— I'll have to speak with the administration, — Layla continued as if nothing had happened. — You'll need an isolated room, away from both sectors.
She shot him a brief glance.
— After all, a certain idiot managed to cause the biggest mess on his very first day.
The words cut deeper than Samael expected.
Not because of the insult.
But because…
She was right.