Violet sat alone in the courtyard, reading a physics book, tracing it with her fingers as the many bumpy symbols seemed to transform into sound. She could almost hear it, the will of the author screaming at her with unwavering intensity—their desire to leave behind something of their own, etching itself into the deepest corners of her mind, slowly changing her.

She felt the warm breeze gather as the best days of spring finally came. The sunlight touched her face, making her smile uncontrollably, as she dozed off, getting carried away by her thoughts. It was a vibrant daydream, full of beautiful sounds and moments, and as a cold wind gathered, sending a slight chill down her spine, she felt at ease, knowing this was truly a blessed and tranquil moment.

"Violet,"—a voice called out to her.

"Who is this?" she wondered.

"I was hoping to exchange a few words with you," the voice said.

Suddenly, she felt her wheelchair being pushed from behind. Unable to do anything, she gripped the armrests of her wheelchair, her knuckles whitening as she waited in tense silence. The creak of her chair under the force of her grip seemed deafening, amplified by the rhythmic echo of footsteps around her. She could hear distant murmurs, the scrape of a shoe against the pavement, the rustling of fabric, each sound heightened, every second stretching on endlessly as her senses drank in the foreboding noise. Her heartbeat quickened, thumping heavily in her ears, drowning out the world as she anticipated what would happen next.

Eventually, both the sun and the wind disappeared from her grasp, evaporating out of her senses. As the screeching of the wheels stopped, she smelled a strange dampness, like wet sand nearby, along with the loud humming of machinery, a deep, resonating thrum that vibrated through the walls and floor, like the steady breathing of a sleeping giant.

"Where are we?" she wondered.

"Not far from where you were before, next to the ventilation compartment," the voice explained.

She could smell cigarettes on the person standing next to her—a filthy and unpleasant scent. All around, she heard footsteps, numerous and varied, each step distinct, betraying the weight, height, and build of the person.

"Who are all of you? Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

"Is this bitch really blind?" a feminine voice wondered.

"Violet, we brought you here because we believe you're being incredibly selfish," the first voice spoke.

"How so?" she asked.

"For starters, you are a bud, which there is a limited number of, taking the position away from more capable individuals," the voice explained.

"I got the rank thanks to my efforts, just like anyone else possessing it," she replied.

Immediately, she felt a powerful slam hitting the side of her wheelchair, shoving her into the cold concrete wall. She gathered her strength, taking a slow breath as the air stung her lungs. The sounds around her sharpened—the scrape of her wheelchair against the wall, the murmur of those watching, a faint ringing in her ears. She relaxed her face, smoothing her expression to show no sign of weakness.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Bullshit!" a male voice screamed. "You have no idea how hard I've worked for this! Yet you... you got it so easily? How fucking dare you use your wealth to achieve something like that?!"

"Now, now," the mysterious voice intervened. "You will have your chance," they continued, clearing their throat. "Secondly, you've taken the top spot in all exams, making it impossible for anyone who could actually benefit society to make use of the opportunities granted by that top spot."

"All I did was study and try my best," Violet explained.

"I know," the voice replied. She could hear the saliva gathering in their mouth as they spoke.

"And lastly," the person paused, "you acted all high and mighty while being protected by that bodyguard of yours!" the voice shouted.

She felt a rough hand strike her face, the sharp sting radiating through her skin. The slap echoed, a harsh crack that bounced from corner to corner. Her right cheek began to swell, throbbing with heat. She looked forward—although she couldn't see, she sensed the library building looming ahead, its familiar presence giving her that one small, fragile speck of comfort.

Suddenly, within the vast darkness, she saw it—a blue flame burning in the distance. A cold fire that grew in size, raging tirelessly until it became something incomprehensible. She looked up at the large expanding ball of energy as it spread its wings, enveloping a quarter of the academy in its magnificent embrace. "Hey, where do you think you're going?!" she heard the male voice shout.

In a single thump, followed by a cough and squealing, the voice grew silent.

"Are you alright, Violet?" Zeke asked, stepping closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in the quiet space.

"I've been better," Violet remarked, squinting with her right eye as her cheek swelled.

Zeke approached her, placing his hand on her face. The sensation of his cold fingers burned against her bruise, but it was a comforting feeling—a feeling of care.

"Violet, the person standing to your right, is he the one who slapped you?" Zeke asked in a cold, emotionless tone.

"I think so, but why do you ask?" Violet paused. "Promise me you won't—"

Immediately, Zeke slapped the boy standing to her right—the same one he had seen giving money to her bodyguard—sending him flying. His body rotated along the axis of his face, crashing into the nearby wall. The boy collapsed, losing consciousness, his head split open, blood dripping onto the pavement.

The rest backed away, terrified of Zeke, whose expression carried a fierce determination.

He slowly walked over, his steps deliberate, each one softening as he approached. He grabbed hold of the back of Violet's wheelchair, his touch gentle, and wheeled her forward. They moved out of the shadow, the sunlight warming her skin as it enveloped them both. The tension of the moment began to dissipate, replaced by the comforting warmth, as Zeke steered her away from the terrified thugs, letting the soft light and gentle breeze offer a sense of peace.

Zeke, what did you just do?" Violet asked, visibly angry.

"Nothing," Zeke replied stoically.

"That didn't sound like nothing!" Violet shouted.

"Well, it was," he sighed.

"You can't do that! You can't solve problems with violence. It's not how these things should be done!" Violet yelled, squirming in her wheelchair as Zeke continued wheeling her through the courtyard.

Zeke smacked his lips together. "Then what did you expect me to do? Leave you alone, beaten to a pulp by some senseless morons?!" Zeke shouted back. "Maybe you're right, maybe it isn't how these things should be done! But for fuck's sake, there are a lot of things that happen even though they shouldn't! So what? Do we just bow our heads, too afraid to do anything?" Zeke asked.

"No," Violet paused. "I'm sorry for screaming at you, and thank you for rescuing me," she exhaled.

"I'm sorry too," Zeke sighed. "Do you want me to take you to the medical wing? I'm sure they'll have something for your cheek," Zeke asked.

"Actually," Violet smiled, clasping her hands together, "could I ask you to take me home?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.