Avrel's eyes fluttered open.
A dull haze clouded his vision, the world above him reduced to a dim, shapeless ceiling.
For a moment, he couldn't tell where he was or if he was even awake.
He tried to move.
Nothing.
His body felt unbearably heavy, as if a mountain had been laid across his chest.
Where… am I…? He thought
The blur slowly receded.
Faint markings came into view—etched into the walls, ancient and worn, like the remnants of a forgotten era.
Beneath him, the bed was firm. Familiar.
For a fleeting second, a dangerous thought crossed his mind.
Home…?
The illusion shattered.
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was her hair—red, striking, impossible to ignore. It framed her face like fire in the gloom.
Still dazed, his voice came out uneven.
"…Who are you?"
She didn't hesitate.
"I should be asking you that."
Avrel frowned, forcing the words out.
"Where am I?"
A scoff escaped her lips.
"You're quite bold for an intruder."
She moved closer, stopping beside the bed.
Then she raised something in her hand.
A plaque.
"So," she said, her gaze sharpening, "what exactly were you planning to do with this?"
Avrel's heart skipped.
That's....
It was the plaque Metildore had given him.
He tried to reach for it, but his body betrayed him, refusing to respond.
The girl pulled it back effortlessly.
"Tch—" he winced. "That hurts… Give it back. It's mine."
She sat beside him, unbothered.
"I don't think so." Her tone turned colder. "Tell me… where did you steal this?"
For a moment, Avrel just stared at her.
"Steal?" His voice sharpened. "Did you just call me a thief?"
Her lips curved slightly.
"If the shoe fits."
A flicker of irritation burned through him.
This girl… she's annoying.
"You know… thieves are treated very harshly here," she continued.
He met her eyes, unflinching.
"Really?"
She leaned closer, her breath brushing his ear.
"Yes… so much so that most never live to tell the tale."
His heart quickened for a moment before he steadied himself.
He leaned in just as close.
"Then you must be the queen… to speak so confidently about death."
The door creaked open again, catching both of them off guard.
She pulled back immediately.
A maid stepped in, carrying a tray.
The faint clink of porcelain broke the tension that lingered in the room.
She paused just inside the doorway, her eyes flickering between the two of them their proximity, the abrupt distance now between them.
Something unspoken passed through her expression, but she quickly lowered her gaze.
"My lady," she said softly, bowing her head. "I brought what you requested."
The red-haired girl straightened, her earlier sharpness slipping back into place like a mask.
"Leave it there," she replied, her tone calm, composed nothing like the whisper that had brushed against Avrel's ear moments ago.
The maid obeyed, setting the tray down on a small table beside the bed. The scent of something warm drifted into the air herbs, bitter and unfamiliar.
Avrel's stomach tightened instinctively.
Medicine…?
The maid hesitated for a brief second longer, then turned and left.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Silence returned.
But it was different now.
Heavier.
The girl picked up a small vial from the tray, holding it between her fingers.
The liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the dim light.
"You should be grateful," she said, not looking at him. "Most intruders don't get treated."
Avrel watched her carefully.
"You keep calling me that," he said. "Intruder."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"You were found unconscious inside restricted grounds," she replied. "With something you clearly shouldn't have." She lifted the plaque slightly. "What else would you call that?"
Avrel exhaled slowly.
His mind raced, but his body still refused to cooperate. Whatever had happened to him… wherever he was… he wasn't in control. Not yet.
"That wasn't an answer," she added, her voice quieter now—but sharper.
He met her gaze again.
"I didn't steal it."
A pause.
Then
"It was given to me."
Something flickered across her eyes.
Gone just as quickly as it appeared.
"Given?" she repeated.
"Yes."
She studied him for a long moment, as if weighing something unseen.
Then she turned the plaque over in her hand again, her fingers tracing its surface.
"By who?"
Avrel hesitated.
Metildore.
The name lingered at the edge of his thoughts—but something about saying it aloud felt… wrong.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly.
"I don't think that matters," he said instead.
Her gaze sharpened instantly.
"It matters to me."
The air between them tightened again.
Avrel let out a quiet breath, then gave a faint, tired smile.
"Then I guess you'll just have to keep wondering."
For a second
Nothing.
Then
She smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
But like someone who had just found something interesting.
"You're either very brave…" she said softly.
"Or very stupid."
Avrel's lips twitched.
"…I've been called worse."
She let out a quiet huff almost a laugh, but not quite.
Then she moved.
Before he could react, she uncorked the vial.
"Open your mouth."
Avrel frowned.
"…No."
Her eyes met his.
Cold.
"Don't make this difficult."
"How do I know it isn't poison," he shot back.
A brief silence.
Then
"If I wanted you dead," she said calmly, "you wouldn't be having this conversation."
…Fair.
Avrel clicked his tongue lightly.
"Tch… still doesn't make it convincing."
She sighed, clearly losing patience.
Then, without warning
Her free hand moved.
Fast.
She gripped his jaw, not painfully—but firmly enough that he couldn't resist in his weakened state.
"Hey"
"Relax."
And before he could argue further—
She tilted the vial.
The liquid slid past his lips.
Cold.
Bitter.
Sharp.
He coughed immediately, the taste hitting him all at once.
"ghk… what the hell is that—"
"Something keeping you alive," she replied, releasing him.
Avrel's breathing steadied slowly, though his expression twisted in clear discomfort.
"…Tastes like poison."
"Then try not to die," she said flatly.
He let out a weak scoff.
"…You're unbelievable."
She didn't respond.
Instead, she watched him.
Closely.
Too closely.
As if waiting.
Seconds passed.
Then
A strange warmth began to spread through his chest.
Subtle at first.
Then deeper.
Like something inside him… waking up.
Avrel's expression shifted.
"…What did you just give me?"
The girl didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and observant.
Then, quietly
"Now," she said,
"we'll see what you really are."
She reached for a small bell beside her and rang it.
The sound was soft but sharp enough to cut through the room.
Moments later, the door opened, and a maid hurried in, lowering her head immediately.
"My lady."
The red-haired girl stood.
"Prepare him," she said calmly. "He will face the Council. Immediately."
The maid didn't hesitate.
"Yes, my lady."
Avrel's mind blanked for a second.
"…What?"
His gaze snapped between them.
"What council?"
No one answered him.
The girl had already turned, walking toward the door as if the matter was settled.
A flicker of panic rose in his chest.
"Wait....what is this council?"
Her hand rested on the door.
She paused.
Then, slowly, she glanced back at him.
That same faint smirk returned.
"Perhaps I'll tell you…"
A brief pause.
"…if you make it out alive that is."
And with that
She stepped out.
The door closed behind her.