Claude couldn't sleep, no matter how much he twisted and turned under the suffocating luxury of the thick, satin bedsheets. The mattress was far too soft, as if it had been forged by artisans who had never heard of people with back problems or intrusive thoughts. His mind was a storm of spiraling questions and half-formed worries, each louder than the last. And as if that wasn't enough, there was Roy.
Roy, who for some ungodly reason, had not slept a single minute since they met. Not once. Not even the twitch of an eyelid to hint at fatigue. Just... standing there, still and statuesque beside the bed like a nightmarish piece of antique furniture.
Claude had considered throwing a shoe at him, just to see if he'd flinch.
But instead, he tried to ignore the living horror movie and turned his attention inward, focusing on the one thing more frustrating than Roy's eternal vigil.
[Nothing, Forever.]
That damned ability was eating away at him like a splinter lodged deep in his mind. The harder he tried to forget it, to tuck it away into the darkest corner of his brain, the louder it screamed back at him.
How could he possibly ignore it, when every single revelation led him back to it?
Dinner had provided just enough useful information to send him spiraling. Apparently, ascending required fulfilling some specific task, unique to your Aetheris. That meant if someone had an Elemental ability—say, fire—they'd have to complete fire-related tasks to move forward. Easy. Logical. Almost fun.
But Claude?
No, of course not. That would be too generous. His Aetheris had to be a Special type. The kind of power that sounded impressive in theory but gave you vague headaches and existential dread in practice.
'Oh, lovely. I don't even get the luxury of setting things on fire. I get cryptic metaphors and magical amnesia.'
He flipped open the Soul Mirror again and glared at the familiar, infuriating words.
[Nothing, Forever: Like a name on the tip of the tongue, they are always almost remembered, yet never truly seen.]
Claude's eye twitched.
He didn't know how it was possible, but somehow the poetic nonsense had become even more aggravating than the rows of unreadable question marks it replaced.
'Did Elyas lie to me just for fun? There's no way everyone else gets helpful little hints, while I get a cryptic riddle written by a dying poet.'
His gaze shifted sideways, locking onto the ghostly, translucent figure in the corner of the room.
There sat Elyas, or rather, the delusion of him—knees hugged to his chest, weeping quietly in the shadows like a kicked puppy. Claude itched to hurl something heavy at the hallucination, but two major problems made that impossible. First, Elyas wasn't actually there. Second, Roy would probably dismember him for disturbing the peace.
So, Claude shelved the [Nothing, Forever] issue for later dissection and focused on piecing together the rest of what he had learned.
There was the strange device Howard had used, the one that resembled a Soul Mirror but clearly wasn't. Claude had figured out it was a communicator—a tool forged from Aether itself. Only those who could manipulate Aether were able to activate and use it, making it both a convenience and a status symbol.
That revelation led him to something even more interesting.
There were people out there who could manipulate Aether without ever awakening. Just regular, non-magical folk who trained their bodies and minds until they could wield it naturally. These people gave rise to a whole new classification known as "Technique." It started as basic body enhancement but eventually evolved into something distinct from the standard types of Aetheris.
Claude, of course, had never used it.
Not because he lacked talent.
But because, quite frankly, he didn't even know how.
'Cut me some slack. I only realized I had Aetheris three weeks after the fact. That's gotta be some kind of record.'
Regardless, it was yet another thing he had to figure out by himself. No teachers. No guides. Just trial, error, and the occasional existential breakdown.
'Which I am definitely qualified to do. I mean, if idiots with fire Aetheris can do it, how hard could it be?'
Trying to distract himself from that particular brand of hopelessness, he shifted his thoughts to Lloyd.
Claude had unearthed some interesting facts about the Eversley family. They weren't part of some ancient noble bloodline as he had initially assumed. In fact, they were freshly minted barons, still climbing the social ladder toward becoming viscounts. So, all the formality and pomp was just fresh paint on a still-soggy ladder.
He also noticed that Lloyd and Howard both had Elemental Aetheris—Howard controlled iron, while Lloyd had the ability to manipulate silver. Not exactly subtle, but certainly effective.
Matilda, however, remained an enigma.
Claude hadn't observed even a hint of her power. That was... deeply concerning. Unknown powers always were.
He shoved that concern into a mental drawer labeled "deal with later" and turned to the last, and perhaps weirdest, thing he'd discovered.
Apparently, Elyas had been friends with Sylvia, one of the Duchess's daughters.
At first glance, this didn't seem strange. Nobles often mingled with each other. But to Claude, who had grown up in a world where friendship was just a polite way of saying "I'm going to rob or kill you," this was utterly alien.
He knew absolutely nothing about their relationship. Not how they talked. Not what they shared. Not how often they saw each other. And worse, he had zero idea how to behave like someone's friend.
On the outskirts, friends didn't exist. If someone smiled at you, they were either planning to use you or slit your throat when your back was turned. That was reality.
So naturally, Claude never had friends. Never even entertained the concept. That part of him was undeveloped, like a muscle he never learned to flex.
Which meant Sylvia was a landmine waiting to explode.
'What if she asks something personal? Or says something only the real Elyas would know? Do I just nod and smile like an idiot?'
He dragged a hand down his face and groaned quietly into his pillow. The silence of the room was only broken by the faint sound of Elyas's phantom sobs and the ever-present weight of Roy's presence looming in the dark.
Claude didn't have all the answers yet. Hell, he barely had any. But if there was one thing he was absolutely sure of…
He had to be ready.