On a metal bench, in front of stacks of inactive spell papers, Talst presented his right hand.

“Don’t mess around, Sanathian,” the unimpressed security personnel chided.

“Come on, can’t you unseal this?” Tal bargained in a casual tone. After the class hours, students who use a seal provided by the school can unseal and return it. All with the assistance of the security personnels specialised in unsealing. In addition, checking magical items the student brings—spell papers, sealed objects, and potions—is also their duty.

“I’m not paid enough to get in trouble with your family, now get lost!"

Talst made a cheeky grin to the bald man, who signaled him to leave as there were more students waiting to unseal.

The repressor seal is compulsory in some public places; rather to reduce the rate of magical accidents than crime. In this case, the government subsidized a multiple-use seal especially for lower economy students and those with special needs. Some more wealthy children including Talst or those who prefer to use tailored seals have their families providing their own.

Passing through the last detector gate, no ring of the alarm was triggered. Talst’s classic sullen expression has returned to face once again. His green eyes looked at his seal with a pensive gaze, there must b—

Thump!

Talst got shoved from his path as a boy with a rucksack collided into him. Kôra Halin again, all much to Talst's irritation. Unlike the latter’s steadier footing and bigger build, the rushing boy tripped near the staircase.

In time, Tal grabbed Kôra’s arm so that the smaller kid would not tumble down the stairs, all while the other hand was holding his waist to support his back. Stayed still for a second. Realizing the awkward position drew giggles and whistles of some nearby students—along with some stares, he flung Kôra sitting on the ground.

“Careful, idiot! If you can’t walk, use the wheelchair ramp!” Talst lambasted.

Kôra turned his head up at Talst in a strained manner, like an animated puppet. Tal recognized a different look in his eyes; not the usual repulsing meek gaze; his eyes were now somber. “Sorry,” he weakly apologized before standing up and darted away.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Tal muttered to himself, following Kôra who rushed himself to the bus stop with his eyes. While walking, he picked up a bottle of chocolate milk from his backpack. Chocolate is one of the most popular flavors introduced by the Earth people, which also happened to be Talst’s favorite for milk. One sip or two, finish the entire bottle; should be enough to brighten his evening.

“He’s strange,” an unanticipated voice said from behind Talst. “Probably the earthquake traumatized him, his parents should—oh wait. . ."

Tal choked in surprise hearing Silûn right behind him, spilling the milk. The latter sprightly offered Talst a sheet of paper handkerchief from his pocket. While taking it with his right hand, Tal’s last finger brushed against Silûn’s hand. That time, Silûn realized something.

“Sorry, Tal! Sucks that you never join us again,” Silûn greeted Tal who was wiping his chin.

“I can’t play on weekdays, else they're gonna take my phone and sell it,” answered Tal while crumpling the handkerchief.

“What?! Your family is already rich! Fucking cheapskates! ” Silûn uttered aloud that one or two students turned their head. “Your monitored repressor seal costs more than your phone. The cheapest is eight hundred pûnai!" He pointed at Talst little finger.

“Tch!” Talst slapped Silûn’s hand.

“Calm down!” Silûn disapproved. “Do you really think you can date Delven with that attitude?"

Tal took a deep breath at the remark; if it was not Silûn saying it with his round naïve face, Tal would already bite someone else's head off. “So you are saying my seal is a monitored one?”

“From the touch it felt different. I worked hard to win the district-level sealing competition, so I know,” Silûn mentioned his credential.

Talst gave his hand to Silûn, who put his finger on the seal. A spark of blue flashed before it, Talst flinched as they touched. For a split second it felt hurt.

“Cool! This one alerts them if your magic usage is raised near the threshold, not only when the repressor worked,” he explained in the tone of a murmur. When the magical energy use exceeded the threshold, the repressor spell started to work in a seal. In monitored one, this process will notify the people who requested it, yet Talst’s seal was more advanced than Silûn thought.

Talst reacted with nothing but an empty glare.

“Why do you need this? You aren’t a convict on probation?"

Now Silun was the subject of that glare.

“Come on! You asked me for this!” Silûn protested. “What’s with that reaction? Even though you’re a Monyeian, your family must’ve told you about this,” he mentioned Talst racial background.

“Can you undo this seal?” Talst asked in a monotone after a pause of silence.

The chubby boy shook his head. “Not yet, too complex.”

“I see.” Talst closed with a thankless words then left. He walked back to the school building, until he realized halfway he was heading to the wrong direction. Passing Silûn again who was having the most perplexed expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with you, dude? Now you’re just like Kôra!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Five to thirteen ante meridiem.

A day of complete exhaustion. Kôra could not concentrate in any single classes after lunch, and now he could only hope to study by himself or ask a friend that is not Tal. He dragged himself past the kitchen, wanting to hit the bed as soon as possible before taking a bath. Just after he entered his room, he was reminded of something out of a sudden.

The place where his food was made, in the kitchen.

He went running to observe the five sticky notes sticking on the kitchen wall, those were nothing but mundane recipes he memorized beyond his head. Fermented fish sauce, pink rice vegetable jelly, spicy bird stew, and stir-fried slug with berry sauce. Uncle said to not mess up with the order, and he always forbids him to write anything on it. It was kind of strange, but this time he was not going to do any of both.

He noticed some other sheets below the lone bottom note, Kôra turned it up out of curiosity. Brands of liquors were written all over it; five and a half columns. Many of which he never heard of, many others were seemingly misspelled strange. Perhaps this was what Uncle doesn’t want Kôra to know; that he had been wasting money for booze.

The next page of notes only had a pen sketch of a vial on it. To be specific, it was a potion container with spell paper inside; potion use is a trademark of Tôryaemaen people. An excellent drawing to the smallest details although obviously rushed,  Kôra knew Uncle has a talent for visual art. The kid moved closer to examine the rough details, as he was going to touch it.

!!!

Shock, static shock; it was shockingly unexpected. The crisp of electricity struck his fingers. Why only this paper? The jolting and startling felt too strong as a pulsing current of electricity.

“It. . . Can. . . Cannot be. . .” Kôra put his hand covering the drawing, it should be nothing but it started to hurt. “It must be sealing magic,” he concluded. “Why is this one sealed?”

Kôra rushed to his room and picked a small magnifying glass to read the inscription. What would his uncle do with this vial? He took time to decipher it, the language and the writing of the spells are often different from the standard modern language.

“. . . Sâtyon. . . myae naenyônon, matsriyae eûn. . . na. . . nats. . .natsaeia?”

No! Wrong!

His hand trembled covering that piece of note back, his breath was getting heavier. He backed off from it and bumped the dining table quite hard.

“It was my imagination, my mind messed up like Uncle said, wrong spell,” Kôra assured himself in a vain panic attempt, his trembling hands moved to cover his face. “Uncle cares. . . For my good, it is for my good, he would. . . Would never...”

Meanwhile, there was Naldo; his painful expression trying to eat his damned food, tampered food he said. Only that person has tried the food he cooked and brought, except for his uncle who is fine. Haren, the only person who was fine with it. The person who told him not to share his food.

“. . . Do it. . .” His face gradually turned dismal, his eyes were clouded.

Kôra scanned the kitchen, nothing was alarming. There were only a sink, dried glasswares, bottles of seasonings, a refrigerator, closed cabinets filled with and  glasswares, and a medium-sized black saucepan. Picking it the saucepan that has been left out of place, Kôra could see his own face reflected on its polished surface. His own disgusting face smiling.

Just like how the thing behind the mirror was smiling at him; mocking him.

“SHIT!!!”

With an abrupt surge of irateness inside, Kôra slammed the saucepan to the floor; scaring a house lizard back to its hiding. His throat felt scraped, never had he screamed this loud for long. The clanking noise of metal as the saucepan hit the floor sounded as if it laughed. The laughter was faint but not unheard, lingering in silence like his own voice in his mind. It was always him and his own frustration, either restrained or untied.

The boy sat on the floor to pick up the victim of his transient wrath. The saucepan was a sturdy one; it didn’t get damaged much except for a slight dent and loose screws. That pan should not be there.

He opened the lower double door cabinet, the place where the saucepan and other cooking appliances belong. Kôra reckoned that the furniture was new, it opened noiselessly smooth. It was sparse inside except some plastic bowls and naphthalene balls. Why waste space? He might even fit inside.

Or should actually the saucepan not be there?

Kôra sprinted to the drawer cabinet in the living room. First drawer was locked, supposedly for storing Haren’s belonging. second drawer was for wound treatment; ointments, antiseptics, bandages, and such. The third final one was for basic utility spell papers and potions; Kôra opened it with haste and frantically searched its content. Pouch by pouch, from one container to container.

He found it; a blister of nasal spray. With no hesitation Kôra peeled the package and tossed the small leaflet away. The boy positioned the nozzle inside his left nostril; he pressed the container to spray. A cold stinging sensation rushed inside the orifice, the dispersed particles were like sand grains eroding his mucosal layer. It was a slight discomfort for a bigger worth, as he hoped.

Kôra stood up and held the left side of his nose, approaching the napkin box nearby. He wrapped the potion packaging inside a paper napkin, planning to dispose of it later in his room. The half-opaque soft paper barely covered its label to illegibility. Below the commercial name was written: “Effect blocker potion: medium tier use.”

His trembling fingers wrapped some layers more of napkins, the effect should kick in soon.

Back in the kitchen, the time for Haren to come was nearing. Kôra Halin tried to collect himself and regain his composure. It was the time for questioning and perhaps rearranging.