Centaphalas, the Capital (2)
"At this time of year, there aren't many reasons for a kid like you to cross the whole country alone. And there's only one school that'd accept someone your age right now. Pristine Comprehensive University. Specifically, their affiliated school."
Right after introductions, Lambda Lilion answered in place of my destination. She'd pegged my hometown from the train in seconds flat—not for nothing was she a detective.
"Yeah. Starting school now. Got in on the non-urban quota by the skin of my teeth, though. No clue if I'll make it to graduation."
A classic rural quota barely-made-it case. Unfortunately, I knew my limits. I'd even worried my parents briefly because I struggled with the language here. No way could someone like me compete in a school full of this country's sharpest minds. But that wasn't a big deal. I knew full well that places like that university didn't run purely on talent!
With a degree from there, even if I couldn't live some glamorous life, I could scrape by in the city, putting food on the table. That was enough for me.
Click-click. The golden gears in her unique cross-shaped pupils spun again.
"That's not your real destination. Your goal is something else."
Spot on. And there was no reason to lie. It'd be tough telling my parents or my tattletale older brother and little sister, but this woman? We'd part ways after this.
"Yep. My goal is living in a city with solid internet! Like that article earlier—I wanna live with a holographic terminal! Investing time in a school that guarantees graduation isn't a bad play for that, right?"
Lambda Lilion didn't seem thrilled with my answer; the golden gears in her eyes visibly slowed. Then clunk—they stopped.
"Why do you seek to access the web?"
"If you never knew it, fine. But once you've tasted it and lose it? Agony."
We didn't have holograms in my village, but we did have touchpads—basically useless books without internet. We'd buy news chips from passing haulers or mark catalogs for deliveries. Village kids barely touched them. Made the torment that much worse... An app that screamed "internet," but no connection no matter how you poked it!
"You suffer from deprivation."
Lambda Lilion stood squarely facing me. Despite the height difference forcing me to look up, her gaze didn't feel condescending.
"Then this is your chance to make my words fact. Abelian Anion. I grant you the right to access information. In exchange, you take on the duty to consult with me if anything strange happens at Pristine Comprehensive University."
I blanked for a second. But I caught on quick. So pulling me off as her "assistant" at the station wasn't some whim—it was literally true. Just a tense mix-up.
Yeah. I got it. Like her self-proclaimed demon bit, it was a hard offer to refuse. Honestly, after staring at the promise of internet for so long without touching it... My future self might regret this impulse. But right now? No brakes.
Reincarnation doesn't make you a perfect adult.
Still, minimum defenses.
"What if nothing happens to me?"
"Friend troubles. Schoolwork. Stuff you can't tell your parents, right? Easier to spill to a total stranger you met on the road."
Lambda Lilion smiled brightly. Her stark white hair framed golden cross-pupils that fixed on me. Her face was stunningly beautiful, like nothing I'd seen—but the smile etched on her pale skin felt more ominous than pretty.
Evoked visions of my future self glued to a phone for lack of real talk. A devilish adult who ensnared people.
"Make it top-tier gear."
"Excellent. We'll buy one now. Follow me—there's a good spot nearby."
With that, Lambda Lilion led me out of the station. I froze mid-step.
Too distracted before to notice, but this was a whole other world. Towering white angular buildings everywhere. Not plain boxes, though—the seamless white forms accented with functional colors wove into elegant lines. Not individual show-offs, but a harmonious symphony of structures.
Countless cars and people wove between. Like Salt Hub's main drag, but wild: aerial roads linking buildings, straight out of retro sci-fi. Felt less real, more like admiring art.
Then this world's unique sensation stabbed through me. Like a crowd's roar, but mana waves—overwhelming, nauseating. No actual noise; engines were silent. Made the mana buzz that much sharper.
Whoa, city life meant enduring this?
I was less awed by the futuristic skyline than crushed by the mana sickness. Didn't know that was real.
"Feeling off?"
"Mana's... shaking everywhere."
"You're sensitive. You'll adapt if you're city-bound."
Zero concern for me, she strode ahead. Following, I noted the difference from Salt Hub station—folks there dodged her; here, a few glances, but most passed casually. Animal ears galore, cybernetic limbs, head implants, even horns. Capital diversity hit hard. Most common? Standard humans like me.
Soon, a sleek gray building. Peeking in, comms gear shop. Didn't take long to hand me a new pad.
Buying was scarily smooth—beyond streamlined, like grabbing gum. Back home, wasn't it contracts and paperwork?
She handed over the paper bag.
"Take it. It's yours now."
"Cool. Per our deal, I'll consult if anything comes up."
I grabbed it. Saw the display prices—same model, scary expensive. Felt guilty, but joy at finally having a pad won out.
Shop owner called it a pad, not phone. Gotta remember that.
Suppressing dance urges, we headed out—not stopping, but toward my approaching train. Hour left, but better early.
"Check your ticket."
"Got it."
In the station, she pointed at my pocket. How'd she know? I unfolded it, checked the platform. She pointed the way, having peeked.
Heading there, I voiced the creeping doubt.
"Why're you doing all this?"
Silence. Demon ignoring me post-contract? Nah—once seated on the platform bench waiting for the train, she spoke.
"Necessary. First, let's see how much an assistant thinks. Explain what happened on the last train."
"Machines stole jobs, so kill you to get 'em back?"
"Oversimplified, but correct conclusion. That was just the soldiers' reason."
Meaning deeper motives.
"Killing a few on a train wouldn't halt the tide. People die easy here—takes something visceral, terrifying. Unbearable unless change happens."
Took time to parse; I stayed quiet long. But I got it. Should've instantly.
"The school."
"Among them, Pristine Comprehensive University—built after Grey Ark Research Institute—perfect for trouble."
Whatever Grey Ark was vanished when she stretched for my bag. Not taking it back, right?!
Nope. She powered up the pad expertly, tapped, handed it over.
"Mana recognition. Channel mana into the pad."
Mana basics? I could manage. Learned fundamentals—nothing more. Bro and sis outdid me, though. Tch. Alien sensation for me.
Gripped it, poured mana. Ngh! Not first try. Repeated; registered.
"Next, fingerprint. Annoying, but do print and passcode too."
Did as told; she took it, input something, returned.
"Hold 8."
Pressed; faint buzz from her chest, under the vest. She fished out a vibrating device—custom-tuned golden gear thing.
Gripped her opaque screen; my pad chimed connection.
"Call like this."
Hers chimed too. Crystal clear.
"That's it?"
"Assistants don't need much. Just enough mutual aid. Less, and you'd bail."
Gears clinked, volume swelling with eerie wind, mana spirals forming ghostly cogwheels.
"True. I avoid harming folks if possible. Over-sharing info usually screws innocents."
She crossed her legs, gaze front.
"Yet strangers don't matter."
True. Unseen masses? Just numbers.
"That's what strangers are. Still, better they muddle happily, right? Building on happiness beats feeding on misery—prettier for the world."
Most think that. Humans suck at big numbers; crowds become objects. Few hate diligently enough.
Hating's exhausting. Bullying lasts when fun.
No reply. Train approached.
School time. I stood.
"Guess this is goodbye."
"Yes. Contact anytime."
"What if nothing happens at school till graduation?"
Investments need returns, or it's wasted cash.
"Then not assistant—just fun friend."
Undemonic. Or translated: "Fun toy?"
She giggled. Rare emotional laugh softened her stark vibe.
This woman.
"I'd never slap a boring title on a human who bested me?"
Looked like she'd found amusing prey. Explained her pity-face for that Cradle geezer.
Something off, I boarded through open doors.
Unlike before, packed with teens; departed soon.
Ding. Pad? Opened: text from Lambda Lilion.
A paper card materialized from the screen with a pop.
Hesitated, grabbed it. Faint spinning gears on the surface—her unique otherworldly feel.
Not mainstream tech.
Unfolded: ornate gold-and-black business card, Lambda Lilion's. With cute doodle and "Have a good school life, assistant."
Really, an utter enigma from start to finish.