Sighing, Lucien turned to Zephyr.
"Something came up, so I have to leave. I will be back soon, and then I will help you."
Zephyr hummed, a touch of reluctance in his voice, but he knew Lucien had his job.
"You go do what you need to. Don't worry about me; I can manage on my own. What you have done is more than enough. Thank you—today was a memorable day for me."
Lucien felt weird at his last words.
What was so memorable today?
Probably the fact that they spent Erick's money…? He stared at Zephyr oddly for a moment before putting the room key back in his pocket and quickly turning to leave.
Zephyr stood in place until the door of his room closed softly, and he could no longer hear the faint sound of Lucien's footsteps.
Then he closed his eyes.
He wanted to remember every little detail. Today had truly been a special day for him.
But even if he couldn't see, he knew it had been just another ordinary day for Lucien—helping a blind person out of the goodness of his kind heart. Was he wrong for taking advantage of that beautiful kindness?
Lucien was really a good person… but he wasn't. He had spent many years in a hell called prison, so he knew he was no longer the naive fool he used to be. Yet… if acting clueless could get him what he desired for the first time… he would, of course, do it.
Zephyr opened his eyes, a silver, electric glint flickering within the gray blankness—though it quickly softened into calmness.
"Right, those who gave me the room key said I'll have to complete a few months of training in the Association as a new Esper before officially starting work… I guess I should get familiar with my room, then."
He touched the scar on his right earlobe and, just as he had done in prison, started to survey the room, committing every nook and corner to memory before slowly taking out everything from the shopping bags and silently placing them in their proper spots.
Everything had to be arranged in the right place so he could navigate it effortlessly.
Though he wasn't naturally sharp, years in prison had at least sharpened his ability to always remember and stay watchful of his surroundings. It was a necessary skill that had become a habit, forged out of the need to survive in a place filled with criminals.
It took him an hour to arrange all his new belongings. Although he stumbled several times along the way, he managed to finish, even tossing the empty shopping bags into the trash bin outside in the corridor, where his room was lined among many others.
Once finished, he quickly memorized the layout of the small bathroom, then took a cold bath and brushed his teeth. Suddenly, as Zephyr leaned over the sink, the sound of water droplets falling from his wet hair became very clear to his ears, almost as if he could control it with a bit more focus.
Not just water… perhaps he could control everything around him with the vast energy within his body, making it move according to his will—like… telekinesis? But a sudden knock at the door disrupted his focus.
He lifted his head, still shirtless and clad only in loose trousers. He wanted to reach for a towel to dry his wet hair and put on a shirt but paused at the sound of the door creaking open and unfamiliar footsteps.
"?!"
Surprised that someone could enter his room so easily without his permission, he stepped out of the bathroom shirtless. The soles of his bare feet felt cold against the tiled floor, while lingering droplets traced down his neck and defined collarbones.
A frown knitted his brows as he stared toward the direction of the room's door.
"Who is it?"
The barely discernible dark lump standing in the grayness before him remained silent.
Instead, it locked its gaze on his exposed upper body, making him uncomfortable. His voice, still tinged with the warmth from the bath, hardened, growing colder and sharper.
"I said, who is it?"
The person finally spoke, chuckling as if satisfied with what they were seeing. Even though Zephyr was a bit too muscular and not their usual soft type, he was handsome.
"Oh, hello. My name is Eleven Elonor. I'm a Reader. You have heard of Readers, haven't you? I am also a powerful S-Rank Guide."
Zephyr's frown deepened as he stepped back, sensing the man approaching him.
Of course, he knew about the Readers—after all, they were the first to foresee the dangers of the dungeons and warn the world. They were also the ones who had coined the terms Espers and Guides.
But the gaze of the man who introduced himself as Eleven wasn't pure. He had felt such dirty looks before, so he knew exactly what they implied. Ah, and here he thought such individuals existed only in prison.
How disgusting.
Zephyr clenched his fists, his expression turning indifferent. There was a reason he had survived so many years in prison. His voice was calm as he stopped retreating.
Like old times, he quietly decided that he would break a few of this person's bones, carefully, here and there, in places no one would notice if this man tried anything.
"Oh, but I really want to know why such an esteemed person has suddenly barged into my room in the middle of the night and was even able to open the door from outside."
His lips curled into a faint, icy smile.
"Is this what the Association calls privacy? If so, I must say—I am truly disappointed."