I woke at 6:30 A.M., earlier than my usual routine. The temptation to take the day off was strong, but money, as they say, doesn't grow on trees. After a quick breakfast and brushing my teeth, I decided to hunt for a part-time job.
I picked up my phone from the desk and opened a popular "Part-time job" website, scrolling through listings until one caught my eye: a request for furniture modification. I sent a request and, while waiting for a reply, began gathering my tools.
I left the house early, the familiar click of the lock a comforting sound behind me. The streets were already bustling, the sky a bright, cheerful blue that seemed to energize the city. As always, my first stop was the bakery. A few customers were already there, so I joined the line at the counter.
Rose was a whirlwind of happy energy, serving people with her characteristic grace. She was as beautiful as ever. When my turn came, her face lit up with recognition.
"Hi, Sparx! The usual again?" she asked, her voice bright and cheery.
I nodded. She swiftly packed my order and handed me the bag, her smile warming the space between us. I paid, adding my customary tip, and as I turned to leave, she waved. The gesture made her body sway, and I felt a familiar warmth rise to my cheeks. I waved back quickly and hurried out the door.
Just then, my phone chimed. My job request had been accepted. Perfect. Time to head to my next destination.
I walked to the bus stop, and a few moments later, I spotted a familiar face: Cherry, the girl from the bus. She had the same long, silky black hair and mature figure, her college uniform shirt straining against her large breasts.
"Are you going to college?" I asked, immediately feeling foolish. Of course she was; she was in her uniform.
"Yes," she replied, her gaze meeting mine. "I go to Magica Academy."
I'd heard of the various academies in the city but had never been interested enough to learn more. I'd never set foot in one. A complex feeling stirred in me—a mix of regret for the experience I'd missed and relief for the early mornings I'd avoided.
"Oh, that's a unique name," I said, grasping for conversation. "What do you all do there?"
It was probably a strange question for a lifelong city resident, but Cherry didn't seem to mind.
"It's a magic academy," she explained, giving me a slightly puzzled look. "You've never heard of it?"
The truth was, I was never allowed to attend any school or institute. I saw no point in hiding it. "No," I answered simply.
Just then, the bus arrived. "We can continue talking on the bus," Cherry suggested.
We boarded and found seats together. Immediately, I felt the familiar weight of jealous stares from the other passengers.
"You really haven't gone to any college?" she asked, seeking confirmation.
I shook my head. "No."
"Oh," she said, pausing for a moment. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "How about this? A new season is about to start at the academy. Do you want to enroll?"
Enroll in a magic academy?! The suggestion caught me completely off guard. I was only a year or two older than her. The idea of a new experience—and the chance to spend more time with her—was undeniably appealing. I could learn about a side of the world I'd always ignored. It sounded like it could be fun.
"Is it okay?" I asked, hesitant.
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Actually, there are a few slots left in my class. You might still have time to join!"
I thought for a moment. A new path was opening up. "Okay," I said finally. "I think I'll give it a try. I don't mind some new experiences in my life."
Cherry looked thrilled. She pulled out her phone, opened a map, and showed me the academy's location. It wasn't too far from my house, which was convenient.
"Okay, it's decided then," I said with a smile. "Thank you for suggesting this to me." I was genuinely grateful. I also remembered the books Mrs. Samuel had given me; perhaps they would be more relevant now.
We spent the rest of the ride talking about her academy. Soon, her stop arrived. She waved goodbye and disembarked, and the angry glares from the people around me felt even more intense than before. Are they mad that she waved to me?
A few stops later, I reached my destination. I stepped off the bus and headed towards the client's house, ready to start my work, my mind buzzing with thoughts of a magical future.
---
In a dark, hidden room, the only sounds were choked cries. "Mmph!"
Naked people were chained to the cold walls, their bodies contorted in silent suffering. The air was thick with the stench of fear and despair.
Tok, tok, tok.
Footsteps echoed from a stone staircase. A man walked into the chamber. He was tall with a powerfully muscular build, his long brunette hair falling over the shoulders of a long black cloak. A plain black mask obscured his face.
Clap, clap, clap.
He slowly brought his hands together. "Thank you, you pitiful souls," he said, his voice a chilling monotone. "Because of you, I am growing much stronger. Keep suffering. Become the fuel for my power. Hahahahaha!"
The chained figures could only weep, their tears carving clean paths through the grime on their faces. They had seen terrors beyond imagining; this man was a monster made flesh.
"Hmm? Oh, I almost forgot," the man murmured. He waved a hand, and a strange, revitalizing energy washed through the room. The prisoners' wounds sealed shut, their broken bodies knitting themselves back to a pristine state. But their relief was a fleeting cruelty. A moment later, swarms of glistening black insects poured from the shadows, covering their bodies. The creatures began to bite and chew, devouring skin, flesh, and bone.
The room was once again filled with raw, agonized screams. The man watched with detached disgust before turning on his heel and leaving.
He walked down a long, opulently decorated corridor. Gilded paintings hung on the walls between decorative plants, all illuminated by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. It was the hallway of a wealthy estate.
He entered a bright and spacious library, filled with the smell of old paper and polish. He pressed a nearly invisible switch on a shelf, and a section of the bookcase slid silently back into place, perfectly concealing the entrance to the horror behind it.
He walked to a heavy oak desk where he had left his personal effects: a leather-bound book and a badge. He picked up the book with his left hand and pinned the badge to the right breast of his coat.
The badge was elegantly crafted, with clear, bold letters that declared his public identity: "Magica Academy Instructor."