Even in the midst of shame, she became shameless enough to say, “Then I just need to live longer to repent,” as her right fingers pressed against her left palm. The tips were dipping into her skin, as if they wanted to hide from the shame too.

  The celestial listened, smirking. “Very well, repent all you want. When the fmes reach you,” he said, turning to leave, “I’ll be the one lighting them.”

  It felt like an open challenge, a fire coming toward her. Uncertainty held Sarn tight. Could she really bear this?

  She watched him walking away—a retreating shadow that promised to return ter.

  Everything faded. The dark void receded, returning to reality—out of his soul, back at the hospital, on the bed.

  Was the word "repent" an excuse to live longer? A swallow went down her throat. She was drowning in thoughts until a sensation of pain snapped her out—

  “Iss,” her eyes squeezed. A sharp pain was coming from her palm. It was bleeding—her left palm—from when she had held her fingers with it.

  --

  Sophy had completed checking up on Sarn.

  Sarn’s mind searched for a way to break her silence and ask something about getting leave, but that wasn’t an easy thing to do after long hours of silence. But again, she couldn’t bear being a dead weight for long.

  As Sophy turned to leave, Sarn pushed past her shyness with the maximum effort. Her voice shaky, barely audible despite the effort: “Can I get a leave now?”

  Those words sent a shock through Sophy’s spine—as it just meant revealing the secret. Bracing herself, “Wouldn’t it be suspicious if you got out this early?”

  Even though Sarn missed the meaning behind those words, she realized she’d made a mistake—a dumb enough one.

  ---

  As the time to leave the isnd came, the selected students were sent back to the school. Though that one unselected student lingered behind them as a scorpion.

  ---

  Back in the school

  The selected students' names were yet to be announced. It was only normal that the training field would be quiet as new knights rested. But it seemed awfully strange to Sarn.

  She felt like shame was attached to her ankle, making every step hard toward the head teacher’s room. She was going there to beg formally for her pce as a selected knight. She had to do that before they announced the names—as there was still a sliver of hope that they’d somehow test her skills to select her.

  Finally, she reached the room. As she expected, the teacher was middle-aged, stressed, tough. Pleading seemed unlikely to affect him.

  No time to be shy.

  Sarn carefully stepped forward to look polite enough. The teacher looked up as Sarn entered.

  Taking a seat, “Greetings, sir.” But the teacher didn’t bother to return her greetings.

  “What do you want?” he asked, going straight to the point.

  With a mild hesitation, wavered by his indifference, “Ahh... I know I failed to succeed, but I want another chance.”

  “What chance do you want after failing? Fail means fail,” he said, as if stating a fact.

  Sarn lowered her head. “But I did pass the semifinals,” she said, not finding anything strong enough to defend herself.

  The teacher gave a bitter ugh, making Sarn feel more pathetic. “Yeah, but you failed the crucial one. You want to be a knight, yet you don’t know anything about teamwork.”

  That hit Sarn right in the heart. He had just said the fact that’s haunted her since childhood. Sarn remained silent, jaw clenched.

  “But I can’t go back now,” she revealed, unable to find another way.

  Softening his voice, he smiled. He gave a stone to Sarn after taking it out of the table drawer.

  Sarn’s dry soul found warmth.

  “Scratch it,” the teacher said as if it were a matter of course.

  Then, Sarn’s soul lost the warmth at this ultimate mockery.

  “Huh?” slipped from her mouth.

  Turning away to leave, “Try leaving a scratch on it, or you leave.”

  Sarn couldn’t believe his words, yet she looked his way as he walked away slowly. She couldn’t ask for more.

  Yes, the idea of scratching a slippery stone was really a joke. But the actual point was to try.

  ---

  Sarn, sitting on the empty room’s floor, held the stone on her p, utterly dumbfounded. Was it a humiliation? A mockery?

  These thoughts eventually fueled her anger. Anger rolled down from her eyes as tears.

  If that was mockery, she would mock the mockery—with solemnity. She desperately rubbed the slippery stone, again and again. It didn’t get even a little scratch.

  Rather, it tore all of her nails until they bled. Her fingers curled from pain. But desperation made them keep rubbing until all of her right nails broke.

  ---

  The teacher came back to his silent, empty room. He knew it’d be empty.

  “She left, huh?”

  He expected her to leave without effort.

  But a chilling shock went through his heart at the sight of the tossed, bloodied stone left on the floor. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  He picked it up in his hands—there wasn’t any scratch. Only dried blood all over.

  That was not strength. That was a warning.

  ---

  Name announcement day arrived.

  Everyone here actually saw themselves as knights already—except Sarn. She felt everyone’s gaze toward her saying, “Why’s she here? Isn’t she out?”

  That was what she thought too. But still, she might expect that the cruel teacher had a heart.

  The announcement started.

  “Rom, No. 1,” the announcer called.

  Even when Sarn hadn’t expected her name, knowing surely it wouldn’t come—it still made her chest burn in fear. There was nothing left to do then.

  The names kept coming. They took their badges one by one. Everyone she knew got their names called—Liam, Kyra.

  Some looked at her with pity. Some with negligence. Her chest grew heavy.

  So, that’s the end, huh?

  Even though she was prepared in her mind to accept it, her heart wasn’t. All of this was for nothing?

  She covered her face in fear. But just couldn’t cry—that’d make her even more pathetic.

  But suddenly—

  No. 276, Saryntha Sayra.

  Eventually, she stopped thinking. That seemed out of nowhere. She felt like she forgot to stand. What if that’s another mockery? She must have misheard.

  Liam was here, frustrated by Sarn’s pause.

  “Get up, Sarn,” he snapped. “Don’t just sit here.”

  Sarn gasped hearing his voice. Even girls behind her pushed her to go ahead.

  She remembered to walk.

  She quickly went to the desk. They handed over her badge.

  A strange feeling of relief—after a long time.

  -

  Snehazrul