"Hey," my mother called from the living area, snapping me out of my reverie. "You are still bleeding."
Looking down, I saw blood flowing down my arm and dripping onto the carpet.
"Fuck."
"Language."
Returning to the kitchen, I noticed a small bottle of dark liquid and a towel waiting on the counter.
I took the bottle first, dripping a few drops onto the cuts on my arm. It sizzled slightly, making my skin feel hot, almost as if it was burning. I grit my teeth together, trying not to curse.
The worst of it lasted only a few seconds, becoming more manageable, but it didn't completely fade just yet. Half a minute later, the wound stopped bleeding and started to close. After that, I wiped the remaining blood off my skin.
Once my arm was cleaned, I washed my hands and made my way to the sitting area, sinking into one of the brown armchairs beside the couch, where my mother sat.
The cartoon continued to play on the screen. Right now, it showed a little, fat mouse, walking on two legs and carrying an oversized hammer. It chased after a much larger, grey cat who walked on two legs, too.
Time went on, and the sun began to set slowly, casting a dim orange glow into the silent room.
"Don't you want to clean up?" I heard Mother ask eventually.
"Later. Let me just sit here for a while."
"You know… Dried blood is harder to get rid of."
"It's on the carpet anyway."
Her eyes narrowed, and her grasp on the pillow next to her tightened. I think she was contemplating throwing it at me.
"How was your day, Mother?"
"Fine... I took Lily to the park she loves. You know, the one with the lake and playground and... stuff..."
Even after more than 3 years here, Mother couldn't quite figure out domestic life. Don't get me wrong, she was amazing in some stuff, like medicine or knowing how to hide a body perfectly. Not that she used that skill in a while... I think?
As for other stuff... Not so much. Her skills were either near-perfect or utterly terrible. She was learning, though. We haven't had a fire in a year now, and the last time we had takeout was 2 weeks ago.
"Then we had ice cream, went shopping, and got home an hour ago. Uneventful, but it was pleasant." She had a small smile on her face by the end.
"That's nice. Where is she, by the way? I half expected her to have fallen asleep on the couch, watching her show."
"Took her back to her room. Better for her to sleep there."
And also, better if she doesn't wake up to see her brother cutting into his arm and pulling some insect-like thing out of it.
Lily knew about my little predicament. Of course she did. My little sister was always way too perceptive. Mother said I didn't have to worry about it, so I didn't.
"Yours?" Her smile turned into a teasing grin as she spoke. "Did Christine make you work hard all day? She told me you ran errands for her."
I groaned out loudly, putting a foot up onto the coffee table in front of me.
"Yeah. It was fine...ish. The weather is horrible, but what can I do?"
Mother chuckled.
"Your father hated summer, too. As if he were the one who needed to mind sunlight. I used to like it. Back home, winters were deadly. Less food, harder to find warm shelter. Summers were the better days. Anyway, that was a long time ago. Things changed."
Mother didn't like talking about her childhood. She was an orphan from Valenstein. That's it. I couldn't get more out of her. And I didn't believe she was telling the truth.
She chuckled again, her hand grip loosening on the pillow.
"In a sense, you are becoming more and more like him every day."
Yeah, I know. That is exactly my problem. I already look like a young version of him, with my eyes, hair, and face. Being just myself is fine.
Even if I'm not exactly sure who that is...
"Well, if you say so, I will believe it," I said, putting my other foot up onto the table too. "Not like I remember much about Father."
The room was once again silent for a while. Probably for the better. Last time a similar conversation led to an ugly argument.
My father was always a difficult topic. That one trait describes him perfectly.
Difficult.
And not just in a family setting, but for everyone else, too.
I wonder if being a pain in the ass is another thing I inherited from him. It does sound appealing to blame it on him.
"Mrs Walker had me delivering books. Weissmann Codices. Never heard of them before. A girl I delivered one to said it's similar to Solomon's Book but better."
"I wouldn't say better. Simpler and faster. The ones developed by Solomon work slower but are more consistent."
She leaned forward, grabbing the glass from the coffee table, along with a half-empty bottle of red liquid. She poured a few drops into the glass.
"Solomon's slowly feeds mana into your body, like taking a large bottle of alcohol and drinking it slowly. Over days even."
She drank what little was in the glass, then looked at me expectantly.
"Doesn't quite satisfy your thirst," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"Exactly. You need more for that. Sadly, this thing has a stopper. It only lets you pour so much at a time. Doesn't make you drunk and less harmful, but slow."
She put the glass back on the table.
"A Weissmann Codex, on the other hand, is like downing the entire bottle at once," she continued.
Before I could say anything, she raised the bottle to her mouth, drinking it all without a pause.
"Please tell me you are not drunk."
Mother placed the now-empty bottle onto the table, a toothy grin on her face.
"It wasn't alcohol. But back to the topic," she said, putting her own feet up too and leaning back. "If you can handle it, it's faster. But if you fail, it's going to feel like hell for a few days. Not really dangerous, neither of them can physically hurt you. You could call it a matter of perseverance and a bit of talent, I suppose."
"Hm... Guess the second one is better if you don't have much time too. I will be needing one too then."
"Oh? What happened with your nonchalant attitude from a few days ago? Afraid you will be placed in a worse class at the Academy?"
Solomon's Academy for Scions.
It's the best place in the entire county, or even the world, to learn about being a Scion. If you can believe what they say, that is.
Getting accepted involved written tests, an aptitude test, a mental examination, and an interview. There was no difference between Scions and normal people during the process.
Those already Scions, however, were put into classes meant for them. It meant skipping the whole process of becoming one during the semester and the need for everything leading up to it.
That's what being in a good class meant.
Extra weeks to focus on actually useful things sure sounded worth it to me.
So, why didn't I become a Scion already?
It's because I wanted to have the same start as Max, who wasn't a Scion.
Or at least that's what I told myself until yesterday.
"Well, Max is already a Scion as of yesterday. And him being in a better class than I isn't something I can live with. My pettiness is stronger than my laziness."
Mother laughed at my words, shaking her head.
"Might have to ask for some money, though. I don't think I have enough to buy one of those codices."
"You don't need to. I have one for you. Or, well... your father had. He made it for you, you know."
My jaw tightened at the mention of that, my heart beating faster. Whether it was due to excitement or fear, I wasn't entirely sure.
Of course he did...
"That does save me some trouble. It will be really awkward if I fail, though. Alexander Weissmann, son of the Scholar of Ruin, of the notorious Lucas Weissmann. The son who can't even use his father's invention. A failure. A-" I started to say, but stopped myself when I looked at Mother's face.
Her smile has disappeared completely. She wanted to say something — I could see it — but she didn't. There was only sadness in her eyes.
Ah... I've done it again. Damn it…
"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just..." I stopped, letting out a sigh, my shoulders sagging down. "I'm just tired. It's nice. Thank you, Mother. I will check it out tomorrow."
Standing up from the armchair, I walked from the sitting area towards the stairs to the upper floor, where my room was.
"Good night, Mother."
If I stayed, it would eventually lead to another argument. I don't want that. I didn't want to make her sad again.
"Good night, Alex. Do try to sleep a bit more, alright?"
Still... Leaving her here just like this made me feel like there was a pit in my stomach.
"I will. I'm not working tomorrow anyway."
A good night's sleep does sound good. Let's just hope my dreams are peaceful tonight.