Hera lay on the bed as her mother wrapped cloth on her bleeding hand. She was cradling a small smile as she hummed; her entire focus poured on her daughter’s wound. The way that she did so made Hera feel so weak. She never had a mother who’s as caring as her, and it made her feel that her chance to have one had been redeemed, though she felt disappointed all the same. She knew that whatever she felt now was just temporary and that soon she would either wake up from this dream or be busted that she wasn’t their real daughter.
Imagining it alone gave her no satisfaction. In a short moment, she felt as if she’s living the life of her dreams: having her own bed, having a caring mother, having a room of her own. Whatever happened, she wished for it to remain that way; otherwise, she’d be miserable once more, trapped in a fate she longed desire to vanquish. Once again, a tear escaped her eyes. Before she could even try to wipe it, her mother already did.
“It’s unusual for
Hello, guys! I apologize for having to update a little later than I should. Many things happened in the past and enumerating would be such a bother. Anyway, I'll try to update as daily as I can. For now, here's a gift for all of you 😊
Hera reread the letter Sheels had written. She kept a blank face as she swallowed every word. She had never been interested in reading something all her life. This piece of shit was clearly an exception, though only because it was about her. Despite wanting to destroy it, she couldn’t hope to do so when her body wouldn’t react however she urged it.Agreeably, some of Sheels’ statements were spot-on, which made it a lot more embarrassing and irksome. She knew she’s non-special long before Sheels did. Brushing it in front of her face was just outright rude. The document itself seemed confidential, though, for right after she reread it, she just found herself stamping it with a seal. No doubt, Hera shouldn’t have read it, so she ought to calm down, but she had read it nonetheless, and there was really insult to the way she phrased an introduction about Hera. The fact that it would also be passed onto someone, read the words of degradation in it, mak
Hera was fully aware that what she had experienced was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that it was too good to be true, but what she couldn’t understand was how she could dream of someone she had just met and someone obsessed to recruit her over to his school. Not to mention that it also included a motherly figure she longed so much to feel.But maybe it just showed how desperate she was to break free from the bindings of her accursed fate, that it haunts her down even in her slumber.Mother Tere said she was asleep for three days, and she’d made sure that none of the orphans saw her bare face in respect to her decision. Sure enough, it was only Mother Tere who greeted her when she woke up.“We were worried sick, A-15, didn’t you know? I thought it was the end of you. You were sprawled unconscious on the ground, and you’re barely breathing. Soaked in the flood with your head bleeding. The caregivers were losing hope, see,
For days on end, Hera was to be seen sulking in her room, not wanting anyone’s comfort. She managed to evade most of the orphans and even made excuses for why she couldn’t go to school; however, on Friday, a week after she woke up, she found herself busted with her fabricated reasons. She had written to Mother Tere early in the morning that her stomach was aching so bad she couldn’t hope to stand, but she was forced later on to retract her words when Mother Tere went to her room and told her she’d call a doctor.“It’s not good to hear that you’re sick almost every day. Your missing school and you’re not doing some chores. Though understandable, it doesn’t do well to dwell on illness,” she had said, looking worried.So, gesturing that she had only imagined the pain, she fixed herself in the bathroom and drag her feet to the hall where hundreds of eyes peered curiously at her. She slumped beside A-15 who had her
Hera was standing in front of a full-length mirror, eyeing herself in a way that she’d never done before. The mirror was Mother Tere’s gift for her admission to her ‘dream school’. Hera refused point-blank to accept it, as she had no use for it, but Mother Tere couldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, so much so that she took the initiative to nail it on the wall in Hera’s room. Her other roommates were happy about it, of course. They’ve been asking for one for ages, but Mother Tere didn’t approve it in respect to Hera who frets at the sight of her reflection. Though as to why she’s insisting it now, Hera could only guess along the lines that she wanted her to, at least, have some friends in her new school; certainly, with her hair covering her face and her anti-social and anti-self attitude, other students would have a hard time being comfortable around her.It was Monday. Hera was just waiting for the service that
Hera had never felt nervous all her life, not even when she’d been brought to the orphanage. But as she stood facing the blue gate, her nerves failed again. She was shaking from head to foot, her heart drumming so loudly she’s worried the guard would hear it. So, swallowing hard, she moved away from him. He was trying to usher her inside, attempting to wrap his hand around her waist, but no way, no way would a stranger touch her, even if he’s an official of that damn school.‘I can walk on my own, thanks!’ she thought, shooting him a furtive look.“After you, m’lady.” The driver moved back a little, bowing as he pointed the small doorway on the right corner of the gate.Feeling this day wouldn’t get any weirder, she walked through the doorway and felt a cold fountain-like curtain whooshed past her body. Blinking, she looked back at the doorway but ended up face-to-face with a stone wall. Her breath hitched as
Hera knew, by the ring of the school’s name and the presence of a multi-billionaire, Patrick Hemmingworth, that the school would be beyond anything she’d seen all her life—and she wasn’t wrong. As she slumped on the bed, groaning at the soreness of her feet, she kept her eyes at the slow turn of the ceiling fan, wondering what it’s for when the room was already colder than Mother Tere’s freezing office. She shuddered, as though thinking about it alone was like being back in there.Sighing, she remembered what Patrick had said, and it didn’t give her comfort.“Let’s just say this school is where people like you—capabilities discovered or unused—congregate. If you still don’t understand, by all means go and reveal what’s inside it, just don’t expect the world to believe you.” He winked with a surreptitious grin. “Humans are more dimwitted than you think you are.”
Kioven made sure to drop Hera to their next class, warning her that if she’d be late once again, she’d have to face the ‘Standout League.’ Instead of feeling threatened, Hera felt thrilled. Ever since she entered the school, she’d wanted a word to Sheels, but they never crossed paths yesterday.Their classes were held in a building way ahead of the dormitory; in the Southern wing of the school where towers of buildings made Hera looked like a struggling ant. She didn’t know how many students the school could administer, but considering the space, she could guess they’re plenty.Unlike the dormitory, the classroom had a glass double-door that only admitted students when they’ve given their code and digitized password. From inside, she could feel the stares of her classmates, intrigued or what Hera didn’t care, for her whole being was poured to Kioven who was giving her final reminders and instructions, too, as to how
Had Hera been given a choice, she wouldn’t have spent her time in the Filling Realm where she would be ogled at by the students. For goodness sake, she wasn’t some kind of a display in a museum to have their attention like that. Though a part of her already agreed that the fact that she was a scholar of the president himself made her such a glimmering trophy amidst the glory of a gallery, it irked her all the same when their heads turned toward her as she walked in.The Filling Realm was like a small colosseum, covered so perfectly in white, a splendid travertine stone slabs rounding it. Circle in shape, the tables were arranged in a way that curved in the corners, giving a wide berth on the elevated stage where the likes of Hera could sit. From the glass table and throne-like chairs, they were made to look like the glistening pride cased on the grounds of the building.As Hera made to sit on the far left side of the table, the scholars already seated there