"G-good morning, Magister."
A smile spreads across his face.
"As aforementioned, reduce the hostility in your gaze. I mean no harm. Though, are you alright? You seem to be shaken up. Would you like to head to the infirmary? Ah… If it was due to the little prank I pulled, I apologize."
Bad timing… Very bad timing…
Isaac promptly agreed and followed the Magister toward the Central Building; his body was moving slower than the thought of his movement.
"T-thank you, Magister Silas. I apologize for my tenseness, and I can assure you it is not due to the 'prank' you pulled on me. I too apologize for the hostility in my gaze, if there was any present."
"Don't mention it. Take your time to respond; don't worry, Isaac. Treat me as a friend of yours rather than a Magister. Do that for all the Professors, and you'll get through EINA with no issues."
"I will, thank you, sir." He tried to reduce the slurring in his speech.
"But hey! Isaac Mun. You were the one who freaked out at the dining hall, showed a unique QCD Perturbation, and also raised your hand at Professor Aldrick's question, right? An interesting boy you are. Name too, indeed, Isaac. Is that your full name? Are you a native of Elenos?"
Ah… Shit…
"Yes and no, sir."
"Knyagatyrsk, perhaps?"
"Neither."
He pauses with his gaze narrowing slightly.
"But your name is not of Veledônic origin. You don't look quite from around here either. Especially your surname... Mun is really… unfamiliar. Are your parents local? Cool fact: if you aren't a local, for some reason, you're likely to be assigned to the House of Esyphyr, you know?"
"Hey… I'm not required to disclose that information." Isaac raises his hands to the side as if surrendering. "But if it piques your curiosity that much—nah, sir… My parents aren't from around here. And perhaps, like those who followed the wind, I was 'blown' into that house."
"Well said. Very well said. I agree. And the fact that— Wow… You managed to enroll in EINA," he muses, "on a full scholarship, no less! Is it based on the potential Orthellius has seen in you?!"
"Yes."
The Magister considers this answer for a second. And his smile grows even wider, much wider.
"Hah! What a patriotic spirit!" He claps, alerting all around them. "To come from another land with your talent and uniqueness to use it for Elenos' benefit. Your reputation doesn't do you justice. Are you aware of that?!"
Isaac met his eyes, which were locked constantly onto his.
There's no point pretending now.
Yeesh… Annoying.
"I suspected as much."
"Tell me, does our Institute fit your standards?"
"So far? Yes, sir. Very much so."
"Good! Glad to hear it." Silas resumes walking, hands still folded behind him, pace unchanged. "Hey, walk with me a bit — I'll take you the long way, show you more of the grounds. You did the tour already, right? Orientation Day?"
"Yes, sir."
"How'd you find it?"
"Still tiring. My feet still hurt."
"Everyone does. You could hit the Yves Gym with some of your classmates after lectures. You may even see me there. We could work out together; as the Magister, I could impart some knowledge to you, if you ever considered being a Kynetic. If not, I hope at least those whom I trained treat you well. Do they?"
"Better than what I had back home. And thank you for the offer, Magister, if we ever meet in the Gym. As for the Kynetic proposal… Eh… I'll decide later."
"No issue. I'm curious. You've trained before coming here. Quite formally, I mean."
"A little martial arts. Nothing serious."
The rhythm of back and forth is set. Four in, no weight on any of them.
"Ever cross paths with a Monurgist? Before EINA, I mean."
It's a name that Isaac's sternum answers before he can stop it — a half-beat contraction. Conceivable due to the shenanigans of activating and failing | Theater of Loci |.
"Not really, sir. Can't say I have."
Silas doesn't ask for a repeat nor slow down.
He just keeps walking.
Caught me…
Argh… I should have fucking checked what that shit does before popping it.
I'm getting caught slipping up.
Lock in… This bastard is different from Marcus Kim, who uses deductive evidence chains and social manipulation. Whereas this guy analyzes based on physiological reading and situational pressure, quite similar to the everyday me back on Earth.
Straight suppression was the wrong option, giving him proof instead of a guess.
…
New plan, then. Don't hide the signal, but drown it.
Adapt and evolve… Come at me.
"Getting that rope from the shed," Silas says, "teachers have been talking about it for a while. What was that about?"
Isaac lets his pulse climb on command. He brings his shoulders in while shortening each breath. Doesn't matter that he's spent all four seconds of his walk thinking about a rope, which is why it's exactly safe to spend on.
"Gonna use it for some battle ropes."
"Campus food treating you alright?"
Second spike.
"Off topic, but passable. Actually, quite scrumptious."
"Oh nice. I love the food too. By the way, which House facilities did they actually walk you through? Or did they go through it all?"
Third spike, deliberate overcorrection this time.
Come, let the readings pile up on the meaningless stuff.
"Have you ever trained with a Kabbalist?"
Nothing.
Isaac gives it nothing.
"Kabbalist? Hm… Not that I know of, sir."
"What did you think of the gym?"
Isaac spikes hard on that, harder than the rope, harder than the food.
"Sir, if I may ask, what are these super random questions?"
Silas stops walking.
There it is.
"Stand here a second." He nods at the open courtyard beside the path nearing the Yves Gym. A detour he took led them to the mats already laid out from some earlier class. "I, too, saw you're great at boxing. Show me the entry stance. The one you used on the heavy bag."
Pulling the plug on verbal data while going kinetic.
What an idiot.
Refusing does more harm than complying. Isaac drops back into his all-too-familiar stance.
Silas circles once, slowly, reading the line of his shoulders while Isaac reads him back.
He finally confirmed the thing he's been quietly logging since the walk began:
Magister Silas Ren's hands stayed constantly locked behind his back through the entire walk, never once resting at his sides the way anyone else would. Right now, watching with real attention instead of performing curiosity, the fingers of Silas's right hand flex against his own wrist.
Alast, with nowhere to go.
A fifteen-percent-slower world has time to actually catch it.
"Your grip just did something, sir."
Silas's circling stops.
"Sir, or Magister. You've kept your hands locked the whole walk. I wouldn't think it was a habit. Instead, could it be containment?" Isaac exits the stance and begins circling him. "Would that be a leash in the form of a teaching posture?"
Silas Ren's smile doesn't budge an inch.
"...Huh." As if fond of Isaac. "You've been running me the whole time too?"
"Would I be a very interesting student otherwise?"
"No." He unfolds his hands at last, on reflex, placing them against the hilt of his blade. He leans against the caging of an octagon, bringing his chin into his palm. Somewhere on the railing behind him, a loose bolt ticks once against metal with no wind to explain it.
Neither of them looks at it.
In actuality, it's the Magister tapping his finger against the chapeau of his weapon, as the final test for Isaac, otherwise confirming what he had always had in mind.
"You're dead set on me, aren't you, Isaac? And your eyes did that thing again, by the way. Right when you clocked my hand."
A small tilt of the head.
It was supposed to be an intellectual draw.
But one party overlooked a crucial detail.
After all, how was he supposed to look at himself?
"You are incomprehensibly perceptive. And I'm starting to believe whatever's doing the noticing for you — that's not you, is it? At your age, devices that assist you in cognition are forbidden. And understanding you, you wouldn't bend the law to seem smarter. No, no, no… You must be like that naturally. But seriously? I don't believe it. Not to say that I'm jealous. I really do like you, Isaac. You seem to be a hope for the future to come; I don't get why most prefer and favor Caelum unconsciously over you."
He starts walking again before Isaac can answer, which is its own kind of answer.
"But I ask. Is there… Something special that differentiates you from him? Other than the Sources of Science?"
Isaac falls back into step beside him, jaw tight, that last line sitting uncomfortably close to the truth. It's a subject he needs gone before it's deduced.
"Let me guess: from Aldrick, about the two students who really stood out during the Out-Threading Test, he suspected us both?"
"Why do you think it was Aldrick? I mean, he totally is a chatterbox. But not really, Isaac. Your freakout in the infirmary and your debacle with your classmate Xuě Xīlián were major news in the Professor GC, the former for me especially."
Aldrick likely told his colleagues about a student's eyes popping on the matriculation day.
I'm screwed…
In a final attempt to salvage the situation.
"Topological Anchor V2: Deactivat—" Isaac grabbed his chin similarly to the Magister, trying to mask his murmur so softly as not to let the Magister hear.
It's too late.
The Magister brought his hands to the side, saying enough.
"You have quite the nice set of eyes, Isaac. Alrdick told me they switch between black and green."
Tsk…
The voice cuts in smoothly. Isaac's command halts mid-syllable.
"It's a rare color," the Magister continues, circling slightly to get a better view of his face. "But it's not just the hue, is it? They're green, yes… but not normal. Do you wear contact lenses? Isaac Mun? Is that how you perceive everything?"
His tone is more curious now. Definitely with scientific hints… Maybe reverence?
"I do."
"Wow… They're great contacts then. They shimmer like condensed plasma. I can see electric veins branching from the pupil like arc-light filaments. Maybe that's all the circuitry that powers the computer in your eyes. But behind the contacts, the pupils themselves…"
He narrows his gaze slightly, studying Isaac like a specimen behind glass.
"Very well layered. A star's cross-section, multiple shades of green folding inward, pulsing into a kind of gravitational singularity. Like your irises aren't just looking. What else do they do? They calculate and broadcast something back. Tell me I'm right, Isaac."
Play along to a certain extent…
"True."
He pauses for a moment.
"Fascinating. Nice color choice, by the way. Neon green, like Thaumitons given cognition. Have you ever wondered what higher dimensions look like? Does color even matter in those dimensions?"
He leans in ever so slightly.
"You must be a genius then. Tell me, Isaac. How exactly do you see the world?"
Isaac hesitated.
The truth sounds insane when spoken aloud.
So… A single strong word.
"Uh… I hope to see it adroitly."
His smile doesn't fade. If anything, it sharpens.
"Adroitly… Brilliant, Mr Mun! Our ideologies line up so thoroughly well that I'm considering taking you under my wing. I hope to hear your response, and to see you in action sooner or later. Please, don't disappoint me. I thank you for today as our tour around the Institute…"
In a humorous tone.
"Ends at the infirmary! Where your eyes should be checked! As to prevent cheating via CEC Contact lenses, of course."
"Haha… Goodbye, Isaac."
He's gone.
His hands return to his back once more, footsteps absorbed into the distant chatter of the Institute.
Leaving Isaac standing aimlessly at the infirmary's doorstep
Who exhales.
"Hah… Ar—" gh FUCK!!!