Allan's eyes fixed on her, unblinking, as though he were debating whether or not to open the door, His gaze was light, lingering, and the silence between them stretched just a little too long. Inside, he wrestled with himself. Should he tell her? Should he reveal what it really meant?
She already knew about the supernatural the existence of the unseen, the not-quite-human. What was there to lose? Perhaps it was pointless to keep her in the dark now.
Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but heavy.
"To put it simply… a medium is a bridge between life and death."
The words carried an almost magnetic pull. Without realizing it, she leaned closer, her body betraying the curiosity swelling inside her. He noticed the way she tilted toward him, how she seemed to unconsciously seek more of his words. He didn't object, didn't push her away. Instead, he allowed it, his lips parting to continue.
"A medium," he explained, "isn't just a person. They're a vessel, a bond strong enough to carry spirits who are not at rest. They can hold them longer than ordinary humans ever could. That's why they're able to help them, but the disadvantage of this is, they can't control whichever spirit they come across, that's why it's easy for them to get possessed."
His tone was measured, deliberate, but to her, it was almost haunting. The way he spoke made her thoughts twist in unexpected directions. She frowned slightly, her mind catching on the deeper implications of his words.
"Mediums are not exactly humans, but I won't classify them as mythical beings either", he added
"So…" she said slowly, her voice carrying a mix of fear and fascination, "does that mean mediums don't really have lives of their own? That their entire existence is just to serve these spirits who can't move on?"
The question seemed to pierce him.,Allan's eyes locked on hers again, harder this time, as though weighing something inside himself. His silence was sharp before he finally asked, quietly but firmly,
"What made you think that?"
Her lips parted, but the answer wasn't easy. She hesitated, then spoke with the careful logic of someone afraid of being wrong.
"You said it yourself," she murmured. "That they're vessels. That they hold spirits, help them. That doesn't sound like living for yourself it sounds like living for someone else's unfinished business."
Alan leaned forward, closing the distance she had created with her own doubts. His eyes bore into hers, his voice deliberate.
"And tell me," he asked, low but cutting, "don't you have a life? Despite what you carry, despite what haunts you don't you still breathe, still exist, still decide who you are?"
The question landed like a strike she wasn't prepared for. It rendered her speechless. She stared at him, her mind scrambling, her heart beating unevenly.
She thought of her laughter, of her years of living as though everything were fine. She had been living, hadn't she? Yet his words unsettled that certainty.
"I've been living fine all these years," she said finally, though her voice trembled at the edges. She looked at him, curiosity burning brighter than fear. "So why now? Why is it only now that I'm experiencing all these strange feelings? Why now?"
Her eyes searched his, desperate for an answer that would settle the storm inside her.
Alllan's gaze softened only slightly, but his words carried a quiet weight.
"It's because the stronger the medium is, the more they attract. More spirits, more bitterness, more souls, and with each one, the bond grows stronger."
Her breath caught as he continued, his tone lowering to something almost confessional.
"Maybe it's because you're opening yourself up in places where the veil is thin. Places where humans and the dead overlap. This school is filled with them. Believe me, I could finger count the humans in this school, because I can feel the difference. The rest? They're shadows. Souls that linger, waiting. It wouldn't be hard for a medium like you to brush against one."
Elaine listened carefully, her entire body still, her ears straining for every word. His explanation made sense, frighteningly so. But there was one word she couldn't ignore.
Shadows.
Her heart skipped. Was the shadow he talked about the same one Dana had mentioned? The question Dana asked whether it was difficult for her to find the principal's office now rang louder in her memory.
She was about to speak, to press him further, when the sound of footsteps interrupted. She turned toward the entrance of the dining hall, and her breath caught again.
A familiar face.
Kyle.
Her seatmate.
A soft smile spread across her lips as their eyes met briefly. The dining hall felt a little lively to her even though now it's just the three of them here now, its vast silence emphasizing the moment.
Kyle walked over, his movements calm but deliberate, and sat opposite them. The three of them formed a quiet triangle face to face to face. His gaze lingered longer than necessary on Allan, sharp and unreadable, before shifting to Elaine. She sat still, her hands placed mindlessly on the table.
Kyle's lips curved into an easy smile, his tone edged with playfulness.
"I must say," he drawled, "the way you finished his text it felt like a miracle."
Elaine blinked, caught off guard. A nervous laugh escaped her as she tilted her head. "I suppose… but why would you say that?"
Kyle leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the table, shadows from the overhead lights cutting across his expression. His grin deepened.
"Because your script was so empty, then suddenly, it became as if every answer had been handed to you, bestowed like some heavenly gift." His tone was half-teasing, half-serious.
Elaine shook her head, cheeks warming, her laugh breaking the tension. "Oh, please, don't say it like that. I just had to relax my brain a little bit more." She looked down shyly, her bashfulness obvious.
"I just hope you're confident in those answers you wrote. Finishing faster than me when I was almost done that's really really quick" Kyle added again. And it began feeling as though he was suspecting something.
Elaine met his gaze, her lips curving softly as she replied, "I do too."
But before she could look away, Kyle's gaze dropped sliding from her face down to her wrist. His eyes fixed on it, on the strange mark etched into her skin, unusual and unexplainable. He stared longer than he should have, his attention unyielding.
The same moment Kyle's eyes landed on her wrist, Allan's hand moved. He clasped her wrist gently, his palm firm but not harsh, holding it as though testing its weight. The gesture startled her, her breath catching as she looked up.
And when she did, she realized something.
Allan's gaze wasn't even on her anymore. His eyes were locked firmly on Kyle.
The silence that followed wasn't empty as the air suddenly became tense, she didn't know if the look that passed Kyle's face was her imagination as it was fleeting, but she was sure she saw hostility in his eyes before it disappeared as fast as it came.