Chapter 334
She was beginning to grow interested in the play of emotions, in the dynamics of social interaction that were not always logical, and perhaps in spontaneous self-expression.
Theo's greatest concern emerged from this realization.
If Aldraya began to feel curious and wanted to "apply" that half-baked knowledge—knowledge obtained from romance novels, anatomy books, and texts on sexuality that Theo himself had given her—then a serious risk loomed.
Aldraya might perform an action that, to her, would merely be an experiment or a logical application of a concept, but in the eyes of the world, that same action could be profoundly inappropriate, even scandalous.
Theo imagined the worst-case scenario.
Aldraya, without understanding concepts such as shame, privacy, or social norms, might one day innocently expose parts of her own body in front of others.
To Aldraya, it might be nothing more than a practical demonstration of what she had read about human anatomy, a display of physical data devoid of emotional or moral weight.
But to the world watching her, it would be a grave transgression, an embarrassing incident that could ignite rumors, condemnation, and perhaps even place Aldraya herself in danger.
"What I'm about to say is important. Don't interrupt."
Perhaps because she sensed a small victory in that exchange, or perhaps because she intuitively caught Theo's hidden desire to reclaim control of the conversation, Aldraya finally decided to open the core discussion.
Theo's gaze—filled with anticipation and intent, like an antenna catching subtle signals—did not escape her sharp observation.
She understood that the brief debate over the nature of her reaction was over, and that it was now time for something substantial.
Her voice changed, if only slightly.
The flatness remained, but it was now filled with a heavier gravity, a subtle yet undeniable pressure.
Aldraya explicitly asked Theo to be serious.
This was not merely a request, but an instruction, a mandatory mental preparation.
Her words functioned like a warning bell before a major announcement, sweeping away the remnants of their earlier guessing games or psychological analysis.
She emphasized that the topic she was about to speak of was extremely important.
The phrase "extremely important" was delivered with minimalist emphasis, yet with striking effectiveness, making it feel far greater than a matter of scheduling or emotional interpretation.
It was a signal that their conversation was about to ascend to a different level.
The importance was no longer confined to their personal or academic affairs at Star Academy, but likely concerned the structure of the reality they inhabited, the threatening narrative, or an existential danger she had detected through her boundless RWIA calculations.
'If a woman asks a man to listen seriously, then the only proper thing to do is to remain silent.'
After that understanding nod, Theo sank all skepticism and analytical instinct into the deepest recesses of his consciousness.
A simple principle, firmly held, surfaced in his mind.
When a woman asks a man to be serious, his first and most important duty is to listen.
He must listen with full attention, without interruption, without presumption, before processing or responding.
A principle learned from books or social observation was now applied wholeheartedly to the entity before him—one who, though not fully human, bore the form and voice of a woman.
He straightened his posture, shifting his weight to become more stable.
The trace of competitiveness that might have lingered in his gaze was wiped clean, leaving only readiness to receive.
His eyes, usually so sharp in observation and analysis, now became calm mirrors, prepared to reflect every word, every nuance, and every meaning Aldraya would cast forth.
He drew a slow, deep breath, emptying his lungs of all irrelevant mental noise.
'I'm ready.'
There, in the quiet corridor that felt like a vacuum between two worlds, Aldraya began to speak.
Her flat voice flowed with a constant, measured rhythm, like a storytelling machine releasing vital data into the air.
Yet what she delivered was not raw data alone.
It was a narrative assembled from sharp observation, complex RWIA calculations, and fragments of knowledge about the grand scenario binding them together.
Each sentence was carefully chosen, constructing an increasingly clear—and increasingly troubling—picture.
As both observer and devoted listener, Theo moved at once.
His right hand quickly reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out his familiar yellow notebook, sized perfectly for his palm.
That notebook had become an extension of himself, a repository for every anxiety, analysis, and discovery.
With the pen that was always ready in another pocket, he began to write.
The scratch of pen against rough paper became the only music accompanying Aldraya's monologue, a rhythmic counterpoint to her clear voice.
'They fear the line will be severed, yet never ask whom they truly destroy.'
Time lost its meaning for Theo.
He did not know whether five minutes or more had passed since Aldraya began speaking.
The only measure of time was the motion of his own hand dancing across the pages of his yellow notebook, laying down stroke after stroke until six full pages were densely filled.
Each pen mark was an attempt to chase down and preserve the flow of critical information emerging from Aldraya's mouth.
Most of the topics she detailed centered on the core of the first arc's scenario, episode ten—the final part—a roadmap toward an inevitable conflict.
The first point Aldraya revealed, and which Theo carefully recorded, concerned the reaction of Erietta's family.
Aldraya deliberately avoided mentioning the name of Erietta's stepsibling, referring to them coldly instead as a bloodless cousin of someone she labeled "the ugly one."
The reluctance—or even disgust—implicit in Aldraya's wording was itself vital data for Theo, signaling that this character held a deep level of hatred or aversion in the original narrative.
Then Aldraya laid out the horrific diagnosis that befell that stepsibling.
Total amnesia.
The condition was described as permanent and hopeless, with all memories erased and destroyed beyond recovery, requiring care of an indeterminate duration.
The consequences of that medical tragedy struck Erietta like a thunderbolt.
The Bathee family, in its entirety—from father and mother, grandparents, to every sibling—did not grieve or seek the cause.
Instead, they collectively redirected all their anger and disappointment toward Erietta.
The girl was branded as the would-be severer of the Bathee bloodline, a curse that made her the scapegoat for the family's misfortune.
Though not bound by blood, Erietta's status as a bearer of the Bathee name was weaponized against her, binding her ever more tightly to responsibilities and guilt that were never truly hers.
'So it finally reaches that point.'
The decision was rendered like an unappealable verdict, sealed with official ink upon stamped paper.
Although the bastion of authority represented by the Academy Head stood firm for a time, the pressure that surged like a tidal wave from the Bathee family proved too massive to be held back forever.
They did not attack with swords or magic, but with weapons far subtler—and far more lethal.
Economics and social order.
To be continued…