A cold shower before dinner took the edge off, but every muscle in my body still ached, screaming for me to lie down and not move.
Hunger won.
I dragged myself to the cafeteria.
"Are we seriously going to go through this every day?" Alma groaned, slumping into her chair.
"God, I hope not," Sol muttered, finishing off a double portion of potato casserole.
I'd started noticing the differences between the twins.
Sol was softer. More open.
Al, on the other hand, watched everything like he expected trouble.
And now that I looked closer—I saw it.
A thin, pale scar at his hairline. Long.
Too long.
Like someone had tried to peel his scalp back.
The thought made my stomach twist.
"Alright, guys… I'm heading out," I said, pushing myself to my feet.
"You're not actually going to that 'party,' are you?" Alma asked sharply.
"I'm tired," I said.
Not an answer.
She knew it.
So did I.
I wanted to crawl into bed and not move for a week.
But I couldn't.
If I didn't show up—
who knew what they'd do next?
And Silli's warning about Alma still echoed in my head.
If I ignored them…
she might be next.
I walked past the entrance and turned the corner.
He was already there.
Alone.
I exhaled slowly.
"Still showed up. Didn't expect that," Silli said.
Up close, he wasn't that much taller than me—
just broader.
A lot broader.
"Would've been rude to ignore a senior's invitation."
"Senior?" he snorted. "You're not one of us."
His smile disappeared.
Footsteps behind me.
I turned—
And immediately understood how stupid I'd been.
Twelve.
Including him.
Not one of them looked like they were here to welcome me.
"Oh wow," I said, forcing a crooked smile. "A whole welcoming committee. I'm honored."
"The moment's been a long time coming," one of them said.
I recognized him.
The one who promised me hell on my first day.
"So," I said, voice steady despite the rising panic, "I'm guessing talking isn't on the agenda?"
"What is there to talk about?" Silli said flatly. "You people use our power. Look down on us. Strip us of any choice we have."
"I'm in the gifted division," I said. "Same as you."
A mistake.
"You think this is a joke?" he snapped. "Your family can pull you out anytime and pay your way out of everything. And if you graduate? You won't serve anyone."
"You came here to mock us. To rub it in our faces."
"You're worse than the elites."
I opened my mouth—
Didn't get the chance.
The first punch came fast.
I dodged.
Barely.
My body lagged behind what my mind knew how to do.
I moved again.
Dodged.
Again.
Each movement tore through muscles that were already screaming.
That only made them angrier.
The next hit landed.
Hard.
Pain exploded across my cheek.
My vision blurred.
My eyes watered instantly.
I hesitated—
Mistake.
A kick slammed into the side of my knee.
My leg gave out.
I hit the ground.
Curled up.
Arms over my head.
And endured.
Blow after blow.
I wanted to cry.
Not from the pain—
from the helplessness.
I couldn't even take one of them.
Not one.
"Hey. What the hell is going on here?"
That voice—
No.
No, no, no—
Leave.
Please, just leave.
Don't see me like this.
"If you file a complaint," someone whispered near my ear, "you're dead by tomorrow. No one will ever find your body."
The circle around me broke.
"We just had a disagreement, Instructor Storik," one of them said.
"A disagreement?" Andrew's voice turned cold. "Twelve of you on one first-year?"
"Holivan."
I slowly lowered my arms.
Tried to stand—
Failed.
Collapsed back onto my side.
"Instructor," I rasped, staring at the ground, "we just had a disagreement."
Silence.
Then—
"So you're not filing a complaint?" he asked evenly.
"No."
A pause.
"Not necessary."
"Disperse," he snapped.
They were gone in seconds.
I heard his steps approach.
Then he crouched beside me.
"Can you stand?"
I shook my head.
He exhaled, then reached for me.
I forced myself upright, leaning into him.
Everything hurt.
Everything.
And I was covered in dirt.
"Damn," I muttered. "Now I have to deal with laundry too."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"You're barely conscious, and that's what you're worried about?"
"There's a container on the first floor of the dorm. Toss your clothes in. Grab clean ones from the stack."
"…Good. I hate doing laundry."
"Alan."
He tilted my chin up with two fingers.
"Andrew," I said hoarsely. "Don't. I knew this would happen. I don't need pity. I need to get stronger."
"I was just going to say you look like shit," he said with a smirk.
But his eyes weren't laughing.
"I'll train you myself."
He stood and held out his hand.
"Is that even allowed? You're a teacher."
"Teachers rotate. You'll figure it out. Everyone ends up with favorites."
I took his hand.
Forced myself up—
And nearly fell again.
He caught me.
His arm wrapped around my shoulders.
Heat spread through my body—
nothing to do with the injuries.
"Just don't regret picking a useless favorite," I said, voice rough. My mouth had gone dry just from being this close to him.
"Let's call it curiosity," he said. "I want to see how long you last before you break."
"I—"