The next lecture was just the eighteen of us from the special division.
It was taught by a young woman who looked like she was only half-present—like part of her mind was somewhere far away. She wore a dark-gray uniform marked with a snarling tiger, and her long pale braid hung over one shoulder.
She was explaining how to control power—and this time, I wrote down every word.
"Power circulates through our bodies like blood," she said, staring out the window instead of at us. "If you're not aware of it, you won't feel it."
"The first thing you need to learn, if you want to activate your power, is how to find it inside your body."
"How do you think you do that?" she asked, finally turning toward us.
Silence.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
We even started glancing at each other, like maybe someone else would be stupid enough to answer first.
"Alan," she said suddenly. "What do you think?"
"I'm sorry, teacher, but if I knew, I wouldn't be sitting here with everyone else."
"And where would you be?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"I don't know… probably training."
"Wrong."
Her tone didn't change.
"If you knew the answer, you would still be here. First-years follow a unified foundational program."
"…Sorry."
For some reason, that stung.
She wasn't mocking me. Her voice stayed calm. Detached.
"To find power inside your body," she continued, "you'll need a little help—an artifact."
She opened a drawer and took out a small box.
"This—" she held up a thin piece of wire, no longer than five centimeters, "—is what you'll need for the next lesson. Holivan, hand one to everyone."
Why me again?
I stood up anyway.
She was expecting something from me.
I just didn't know what.
I handed them out, returned the empty box, and sat back down, turning the piece of metal in my fingers.
"This device is called a silometer," she said. "It helps you release a small portion of your power. If you do it correctly, it will glow."
She fell silent.
…That was it?
No explanation?
No one was going to ask?
Of course not.
"Excuse me," I said. "What exactly are we supposed to do?"
"Holivan…" she said slowly. "Are you sure you want to feel it?"
Something about that question hit a nerve.
Sharp.
Immediate.
I had to force myself not to snap.
"Teacher, I enrolled in the special division—not the elite one. So yes, I want to learn how to feel power."
"A bold answer," she said. "I'll accept it."
"It's simple. You need to direct the flow toward your thumb and index finger—the ones holding the silometer."
I picked up the wire again.
Turned it.
Stared at it.
Nothing.
"Not working, is it?" she asked.
No shit it wasn't.
With an explanation like that?
"I did say the silometers are for the next lesson," she went on calmly. "This is theory."
"Put them down."
I obeyed.
"You're probably wondering how to direct power… if you can't even feel it."
No kidding, I snapped internally. You just said this thing helps us feel it—
Outwardly, I stayed quiet.
"You seem dissatisfied, Alan?" she asked again.
"No, teacher," I said, forcing the words out.
I didn't know why, but she was getting under my skin.
Badly.
My blood felt like it was boiling.
And I had no idea why.
"Good. Let's continue."
For the rest of the lecture, she talked about the flow of power and how it connects to internal organs.
It felt more like an anatomy lesson.
Still—I wrote everything down.
Even as my hand trembled slightly from the pressure building inside me.
I didn't understand it.
Why was she affecting me like this?
"You're dismissed."
I stood up immediately.
And just like that—
The anger disappeared.
Completely.
"Holivan, stay behind."
"I'll wait for you in the hall," Alma said.
"It's fine. Go to lunch—I'll catch up."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
I waved her off and walked up to the desk.
"Did I do something wrong, Teacher Miror?"
"On the contrary," she said. "You surprised me."
"Houm told me his influence had no effect on you. I decided to test mine."
"And saw nothing."
"…Influence?" I frowned.
"Yes. Didn't Doven mention that some gifted develop additional abilities?"
"He did. Just… not in detail."
"Every teacher here has one," she said. "For example, Bob Houm is a master of suggestion."
"He told me he used a weak flow on you. It should have confused you at least a little."
"When he questioned me…" I said slowly, "yeah. For a second, I thought I remembered something wrong. But I pushed it away."
"Excellent."
She smiled.
For the first time.
"During today's lecture, I was influencing you the entire time. Gradually increasing the pressure."
"And you didn't react."
"…You were using me as a test subject?" I snapped.
"What exactly is your ability, Teacher?"
"Emotions," she said calmly. "I can make a person—or an entity—feel something."
"Push them. Compel them."
"Or make them hate. Lose control."
So that was it.
"That was you?" I exhaled. "I thought I was losing my mind."
"So you did feel it?"
"I could barely hold it together," I admitted. "That felt like torture."
"Teachers aren't supposed to do that."
"I was curious," she shrugged lightly. "Now I'm even more curious."
"Controlling anger isn't impossible," I said. "Even when something is amplifying it."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Then come with me."
We left the classroom and went downstairs.
Students were already heading toward the cafeteria.
She scanned the crowd.
One guy—with six badges—shot me an irritated look and turned toward the restrooms.
"There," she said. "Perfect."
Before I could ask anything, she grabbed my arm and pulled me along.
"Teacher—this is the men's—"
"Quiet."
She pushed the door open and nudged me inside.
"Wait."