"Hmm. Tell me, what do you think about Greenville?" Clara asked, calmly sipping her fruit punch in the backseat of her black, automated sedan. She crossed her legs like a true boss that she was, her dirty blonde hair covering the facial expression she wore in the oppressive darkness of the car.
The black car sat outside the famous Amanda's, seating majestically in the parking lot with that lustre that characterized its smooth, reflective body.
Clara had recently ordered for the drink, but also ordered for someone too. The same person who sat with her at the backseat, listening to and answering the questions the Vancouver beauty proposed.
"Greenville... it's a great college. Situated in the large Riverdale city, Greenville proves to be one of the bests in the United States, if not the best. It pulls thousands of students across the globe, with approximately 97.33% success rate and less than 2.57% acceptance rate. It's a big challenge for students to get in, even with wide range or varieties of educational fields that prove its efficiency and credibility. It's... superb," Syril answered with practical fluency and confidence that comes from intense study and research, not some random, predicted garbage spewed from the mouth.
He had been summoned earlier with a package of fruit punch and tarts. Of course, he had every reason to doubt or be hesitant, putting in account the mischief he engaged in with the family's heiress, the very own niece of the beauty he sat with. However, Amanda being Amanda, found a way to sweet-talk him into joining the pretty Clara.
Now, they both sat in the silent car, their own voices the only reminder of presence in the automobile.
"It has always been my dream college..." Syril muttered to himself.
"Hmm," Clara took another sip from her punch. "I'm surprised you know this... it shows extreme study and research."
"Yeah. All thanks to Amanda. She gives me access to her internet during my free times, always facilitating my studies and scholarly interests." Syril blushed, remembering all the ways Amanda had helped him.
"Wow. She really helps that much? I guess she helped you with an ability book too?" Clara pressed with her characteristical craftiness, the overwhelming darkness covering her alarming expression.
The sun's illumination should have lit the car's interior, but the sedan's tinted glasses prevented. Therefore, the subtle glow in the car did nothing to expose the sly aunt.
"Oh, no. Although she had offered help before, I rejected it." His voice suddenly took a low tone, almost inaudible. "She has done a lot to help me. I... I couldn't ask for more. I'm more than indebted to her."
"Even when she's offering something that'll automatically lift your status? Stop your endless shame?"
"Yes. She's already paying me more than I ought to receive, covering my tuition and feeding. I can't rely on her eternally..."
His voice trailed off, contemplating on revealing further or ending it there.
"Interesting..." she muttered before changing her tone and asking the most sensitive question.
"So, you're saying you don't have any ability?"
Syril paused, stiffened by the unexpected change in tone and conversation.
"I... Yes. I don't. I don't have an ability." He cleared his throat, pretending his delay in response was because something obstructed his throat.
She noticed.
Clara noticed how his shoulder had tensed, even if it was subtle and almost invisible in the dark car. His slow response and tone also revealed something.
Without words, she tossed a file that had been placed on her laps since the beginning of the conversation.
"Necessary documents to fill for Greenville. Full scholarship, admission, accommodation, and all. Courtesy of Amy."
His ears perked, his eyes dilated, a true comical look that portrayed disbelief and shock. And what was more amusing was how she had landed the statement, casual, almost as if she was talking about the weather.
"What?!"
"Be fast. I don't have all day," Clara simply drawled.
He picked the pen and started scribbling the necessary info, hands trembling like he had just been stung by a jellyfish.
One part of him told him to stop, check the file and question the young woman, that the offer was too good. Too good to be true.
Syril dismissed.
What was the worst that could happen?
His hands already finished the scribble before he turned his face to the woman.
He handed it over and found himself struggling to maintain a neutral expression.
"I... I don't know how to thank you, ma. I... this is too great!"
"Thank Amy. Honestly, I don't know why she is so interested you, but she owns the gratitude you're giving me. But..."
A sudden spark crackled in the tight space.
Clara rose her hand to sight, and Syril instinctively moved back. He shifted and shifted until his back touched the sedan's warm glass.
No more space.
The entire dark space brightened with a soft, blue glow that now enveloped them, a contrast to the previous oppressive darkness.
She drew her hand closer, closer until Syril could feel a tingle in his skin, some sort of fire threatening to seep into the pores of his skin.
Clara's face that had been veiled by the darkness was now revealed by the light she created herself.
It should have been a beauty to behold, perfection moulded into face, face sculpted by a perfectionist and maintained by luxury... but instead, Syril saw something in those eyes. Something cold, calculating, wrathful. He saw past the beauty in her green eyes.
He saw Clara Vancouver.
"...If you try anything funny with Amy, try to take advantage of her generosity and kindness towards you..."
She didn't say anything further. She didn't need to. She purposefully let him complete the sentence, fill in the threatening blanks.
Sparks of electricity still danced around her fingers, tiny bolts promising agony delivered in the... sweetest way.
She let the sparks momentarily grow wild, frighteningly close to his face... then she stopped. The tiny storm disappeared by her will, sparks and crackles receding slowly to nowhere.
Her lightning disappeared, but the impact lasted, present and grounded into her prey.
Syril had lost count of his anxious gulps, several lumps he had felt and swallowed. When she finally stopped, he was shocked to find pool of sweat already dripping down his forehead, despite the coolness of the air conditioned car.
"I... I'll never take her for granted." The statement had felt distant, like the words didn't come from him.
"Resumption is two weeks from now. Good luck, Sylvester."
That was his cue. He scrambled to his feet and rushed out like a maniac. A half-happy-half-frightened maniac.
Clara waited until he entered the prestigious cafe, waited until the broad shoulders she had pretended to ignore disappear before her sight.
Then, she relaxed.
She picked a device and punched several symbols before it started vibrating.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, I'm on the line. How did it go?"
"Not quite what we expected. I'll fill you in soon."
"Hm. Let's see what he's got."
◇◇◇◇
The broken chandelier light was still soft, a calm glow that did nothing to mitigate the turbulence prevailing Syril's mind.
It had been a week and four days since he saw Clara, a week and four days he filled that salient document that would determine his future.
A week and four days another dream got fulfilled.
And somehow, it still revolves around this particular blonde beauty. The girl he couldn't deny he was having some kind of fondness for.
He had only three days left. Three days to leave for Greenville, three days to leave Almandale.
However, Syril wasn't bothered about Greenville per se. It wasn't the nervousness that came from moving to another neighborhood... maybe that too was existential, but the real worriedness came from another message he got that day.
A sudden ding that had been traumatizing, that had been keeping him up all night. The message was cursed, outright cursed, displayed in a rather user-friendly interface.
He had been pacing for as long as he could remember, repeatedly checking the message as if it would disappear any time soon.
That crazy mission, the alert he wished he hadn't checked. He wanted to reject or ignore, but the implications were clear. He couldn't...
However, he had taken a step already, and it turned out to be... good?
He checked the time on the digital device Amy had given him, his own first phone. Another act of benevolence from his beautiful messiah.
'It's almost time.' He made a mental note.
"No going back. I started it already, and I'll end it. I just hope it ends well."
'Pussy,' Raja didn't pretend to hide his irritation, the same remark Syril had continually ignore.
Syril was about to leave, about to complete that mission that had been aching since arrival.
He remembered that day. Remembered how that ping echoed as he had turned his back on Clara and returned to work.
*Ding!* *Ding!* *Ding!*
[NEW MISSION ALERT!!!]
[Mission: You don't wanna be an ingrate before you leave, right? Reward your benefactors.]
[Instructions: Fuck your benefactors till their satisfaction.]
[Benefactor 1: Amanda Goldberg.]
[Benefactor 2: Sherry Whitmore.]
[Rewards: Skill Upgrade, Quest Points, Mana Points, New Special Skill, Stat Points.]
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I'm sorry I had to end it this way. Nah, not really. Hehehehe! Still interested? Then don't stop reading!
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Love y'all.