Chapter 10 – Ticket
Fifteen minutes had crawled by, and still, Zane's name hadn't been called. His discomfort, already unbearable when he arrived, had only grown worse. A chill clung to his skin, and his limbs trembled as if reacting to some invisible fever. Every breath made the pain in his ribs throb.
But he wasn't about to let anyone see that.
He grit his teeth and pushed the agony to the back of his mind, hiding it beneath a layer of icy calm. He'd already been the center of attention far too many times today. When he walked up to claim his ticket, he didn't want any more eyes lingering on him than necessary.
'How long must I wait?' he muttered inwardly, scowling. 'Feels like I'm the last damn name on that list.'
He knew there were a lot of third-year students, and realistically, it wasn't strange that he hadn't been called yet. But his condition made patience a luxury he couldn't afford. He silently wished the lottery gods would have mercy on him just this once.
He leaned back against the wall and exhaled. "Hm… Just a little longer, I'm sure it will be—"
"Zane Darkborn! You're next! Where are you?"
The teacher's voice boomed across the hall, breaking through the chatter like a blade.
Zane let out a dry breath and pushed himself off the wall with a grunt. 'Speak of the devil…'
As he started walking toward the teacher, the murmur of the crowd fell into hushed murmurs and familiar glares. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked onto him, most filled with disdain or discomfort. But now, seeing him bandaged from head to toe, they looked at him as if he were contagious.
They parted like a tide.
Being hated did have its perks—Zane never had to fight for space in a crowd. Wherever he went, people naturally made room, even if out of nothing more than disgust.
'People don't see the benefits,' he thought dryly.
He reached the teacher and met his gaze, standing tall despite the weight of pain pressing down on him.
"I'm here," he said simply.
The man gave him a once-over, his eyes briefly lingering on the bandages and bruises. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and looked away.
"Get in," he said flatly, opening the door.
Zane didn't respond. He just gave the teacher one last glance before stepping through.
Inside, the atmosphere changed immediately. The room was dim, cast in shadow, with only a few faint beams of light cutting through the blinds. At the far end, a figure sat at a desk—motionless, watching.
Zane squinted. He couldn't make out the face, but from the silhouette, it was clearly a woman. A strange sensation crawled down his spine. It wasn't fear, exactly—more like a subtle pressure brushing against the edges of his mind.
'Who is that…?'
"Approach the table. I don't have the entire day," the woman said.
Her voice was calm and elegant—but laced with something far more forceful. It rang with command, the kind that made people stand up straighter without thinking. But Zane wasn't the kind to shrink away from that kind of voice. If anything, it just made him more alert.
'No wonder the other kids walked out of here like zombies… Her voice alone could crush your thoughts.'
He stepped forward, each footfall echoing in the quiet room. As he neared the desk, the shadows peeled back slightly, revealing more of the woman's face.
She was beautiful—almost unnaturally so. Her sharp, sky-blue eyes glowed in the darkness, cold and piercing like shards of frozen glass. Even hidden beneath the dim lighting, her presence dominated the room.
"The device is there," she said, pointing to a square object on the table. "Tap the button. It will generate your ticket. Don't waste time."
Zane's gaze dropped to the device. It was underwhelming—just a small brown square, barely larger than his palm, with a single button on top.
He raised an eyebrow. 'This is what all the fuss is about?'
Still, he reached out and pressed the button.
A faint mechanical hum responded, followed by a soft click. A narrow slit on the side of the device opened, and a slip of paper slid out.
Zane picked it up and read it carefully.
His name. Age. Grade. Classroom. And—most importantly—the injection time.
"…Tomorrow, at 4:30 PM," he murmured.
Not bad. The sooner the better. He could recover a bit overnight and get it over with. The results would come in soon after, and from there, he could start preparing for what came next.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the woman until she stepped around the desk.
Her movements were soundless. One moment she was seated; the next, she was standing directly in front of him. Zane looked up and blinked, startled at how tall she was compared to him.
"What do yo—"
Swish.
Before he could finish, her hand shot forward and clamped tightly around his head.
"H-Huh?!" His body jerked back on instinct, but her grip was ironclad. He couldn't even budge her arm. "What the hell are you doing?! Let… go!" he growled, panic starting to rise.
"Shush," she said calmly. "It won't hurt."
Zane's breath caught in his throat as she closed her eyes.
Then, her arm began to glow.
A neon-blue light flared beneath her skin, like veins filled with electric fire. The energy surged down her hand and into Zane's head, wrapping around his skull like ice-cold tendrils.
'What is this?!' he thought, his pulse spiking. 'She's… invading my mind!'
It wasn't exactly painful—but it was wrong. He felt it like an invisible weight pressing inward, trying to peel his thoughts open. Trying to dig into something he didn't even know he was hiding.
"S-Stop…" he growled through clenched teeth. His entire body trembled. The light in her arm intensified, crackling with energy, but Zane's mind resisted—hard.
Inside, something pushed back.
The woman's brow furrowed. Her serene expression shifted into confusion. Then disbelief.
Fsshhzzzt.
The electricity sputtered, flaring more violently. But every time it tried to pierce through, it hit a wall—an impenetrable barrier wrapped around Zane's consciousness.
'Why… can't I access his thoughts?' she wondered. 'What kind of mental defense is this? He's just a kid—he shouldn't be able to fight back at all!'
She doubled down. The energy surged, brighter and hotter. She stopped thinking about caution and safety—now, it was about breaking through.
The neon coils tightened, spinning like a storm around Zane's head. The headache slammed into him like a hammer. His jaw clenched. Fingers dug into her wrist.
Then—
"I said… STOP THAT!!"
Zane's roar cracked through the air.
In an instant, a pulse of raw force erupted from his body, blasting her energy apart.
BOOM!
Zane flew backward, hitting the floor hard and rolling across the ground. The device on the table rattled. The blue energy evaporated in the air like smoke after a fire.
"A-Agh…" Zane groaned, holding his chest, breath ragged. His head felt like it had been split in half. "W-Why…" he coughed. "Why did you do that?!"
Across the room, the woman stood frozen.
Her face—once calm and indifferent—was now wide with shock. Her eyes locked onto Zane, unblinking.
Then, she took a step forward.
"…Who," she asked quietly, voice tight with something unspoken, "the hell are you?"