OWEN’S TOWN-CENTRE CITY
The hospital room smells of sharp antiseptic and old rain.
Tyrone lies still on the narrow bed.
The white sheet is pulled up to his chin.
Hiding the damage.
No machines beep anymore.
No lungs rattle.
The silence is heavy, pressing against Aurelia's chest until she can hardly breathe.
They return home in a silent stretch.
The house feels smaller now, colder.
Young Pious steps forward, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
He looks at their empty hands.
"Where’s Tyrone?"
No one answers him.
The rain taps rhythmically against the window, the only sound in the room.
Their father stands in the center of the kitchen, his back as rigid as stone.
He doesn't look at Pious.
He looks at her.
"Aurelia," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Where were you all this time?"
She swallows the lump in her throat.
"I was at the Academy—"
Before the word is finished, his palm cracks across her cheek.
Her head snaps sideways.
The sting is immediate, a blooming heat that turns her skin red.
"I forbid you from going there again," he growls.
The grief inside her curdles into a hot, blinding rage.
She looks up at him, her jaw locked.
"Dad, I can’t turn back. My mind is set. I’m going."
His eyes harden, turning into flint.
"What did you just say to me?"
He takes a step toward her, but she doesn't wait for a second strike.
She turns and bolts through the door.
"Aurelia! Come back here!"
She ignores the call.
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She runs through the downpour, her boots splashing in the mud, until she reaches the massive timber doors of the Academy.
She pounds her fist against the wood.
Again.
And again.
The door creaks open.
Master Peridot stands there, looking down at her.
He sees the red mark on her face, the tears mixing with rain, and the fire in her eyes.
He steps aside.
"Come in, child."
Inside, the bitterness swells in her throat.
She tells him everything—the blood in the gutter, the slap, the ban.
"It is a heavy burden," the Master says quietly.
"But you must make peace with your father."
She shakes her head so hard her hair whips her face.
"Please, Master... let me stay. I don't want to go back. I have no home left."
Suddenly, her vision shifts.
Her eyes turn a stark, solid white—not glowing, but a terrifying, empty pale.
The Master freezes.
He leans in, his gaze fixed on the energy rippling around her.
"What am I seeing?" he whispers.
"Child... you’re a Receiver. Your perception level is rare. Unheard of, even."
His eyes widen as he looks at her. "You are a gift."
Aurelia doesn't hear him.
She can't process the words.
She only feels the cold void where her heart used to be.
The Master sighs, his expression softening.
"Fine. You may stay. But not forever."
Morning comes, and the hall fills with students.
Aurelia stays outside, sweeping dry leaves into piles.
Jager approaches, his red uniform bright against the gray morning.
"You're late," she says without looking up.
Jager stops, a playful smirk on his face.
"Hmm... yeah. Okay, Mami."
She drops the broom and grabs his sleeve.
"Why call me that?"
"Because you act like a mother," he says, leaning in close.
"And you look like one."
She snarls, her fingers tightening on his cloth.
"How dare you..."
He laughs, yanking himself free.
"Relax! I’m going inside."
The name sticks.
Throughout the day, every time he passes her, he waves.
"Bye, Mami!"
"Stop calling me that!"
she shouts back.
But he only runs off, smiling.
Years pass like shadows on a wall.
One night, candles flicker with a low yellow light in a lonely classroom.
Aurelia sits in the back, staring at nothing.
Jager walks in and takes the seat across from her.
"Why are you always so sad, Mami?"
She looks at him, ready to be upset, but the look in his eyes stops her.
A small, tired smile breaks across her face.
"It’s funny how you made me accept that name."
Jager raises his eyebrows.
"You're the one who insisted the others call you that. And you added 'Shallow' to it."
She leans back against the wooden wall.
"My life feels shallow. Empty. So, Mami Shallow fits."
The name Aurelia is buried.
From that moment on, she is only Mami Shallow.
"You don't have to carry Tyrone's ghost," Jager says softly.
"It wasn't your fault."
"I wonder about my father," she says, her voice a whisper.
"And Pious. I wonder what they think of me."
"Then go see them."
She sighs and closes her eyes.
"No. He wouldn't accept me anyway. I’m a stranger now." She sits up, changing the subject.
"You graduate tomorrow. Master Peridot is giving you One-Biskae. A Legend-class weapon."
Her eyes sparkle with a hint of the old ambition.
"I wish I were worthy of a weapon like that." She looks at him.
"What will you do after tomorrow?"
Jager chuckles.
"I’m still figuring it out... but I think I want to build an empire. A place where hunger and struggle don't exist."
She smiles.
"That’s a good dream, Jager."
The graduation is small.
Only Mami and Jager remain.
They are the only ones who survived the Master's brutal training.
Master Peridot shakes Jager’s hand.
"Jager Irish. You are now a graduate." He turns to Mami, tapping her cheek gently.
"Don't worry. Your gift is coming. It will be greater than any blade."
That night, Mami stands in a dark alley, watching the moon.
A palm suddenly covers her eyes from behind.
She smiles.
"Jager... I know it's you."
He steps in front of her.
She tries to look away, but he turns her head back.
"Hey. Don't be sad."
"I only came to say goodbye," she says, her eyes stinging.
Jager grips her hands tightly.
"Run away with me, Mami. Let's build that empire together. Just the two of us."
She slowly pulls her hands back. "I can't. I have to finish my training. I have to be a verified student, like you."
Jager smiles, though it's a bit sad.
"Fine. I’ll be waiting for you, then."
He fades into the darkness, leaving her alone in the alley.
The ties to her past are gone, and her tie to Jager is now a distant promise.
