Threads of Betrayal
While the Recetio family and Amon's beloved party were self-isolating at their respective homes, Kashi spent her time at the family estate as well. Over those few months, her daily routine was far richer than that of her fellow party members. If she needed exercise, she headed underground. Craving a swim? The terrace awaited. Want to read? The library was at her disposal. No need to venture out for groceries—simply voicing her desires prompted the chef to whip up exquisite meals from the finest, freshest ingredients. A life of utter abundance, wanting for nothing. But something felt off.
Exercise and swimming grew tiresome within a week. Books offered little sense of accomplishment compared to the hard-won lessons from her adventures with Amon and the others. And no matter how delectable the feasts that graced the table, they tasted bland. Her tongue savored them, her stomach was sated, yet her brain sensed a void. Slicing into steak inevitably summoned memories of the sausages shared with her comrades at mercenary dives. She craved french fries as snacks far more than the chef's sophisticated sorbets. It wasn't just her imagination. At that vast table, too wide for mere humans, she yearned achingly for Amon's presence. Not quite depressed, but utterly listless—that summed up her state at home.
Three months into this lethargic existence. With one month left in quarantine, the thought of reuniting with her friends soon began to stir faint sparks of vitality. She fully expected to endure the same routine for the next month. Until her father suddenly summoned her.
"Come with me somewhere tomorrow."
These words came from President Frey during dinner. Caught off guard by the abrupt announcement, Kashi found herself blurting a retort.
"What about the company?"
"We're closed tomorrow."
"Is something up?"
"Yes. Something very important. Clear your schedule."
Kashi was essentially unemployed anyway, so his words were mere courtesy. Refusal? Not an option. Frey loved her enough not to demand she cut ties with her comrades, but when duty called, he was a stern father indeed. Grudgingly, she acquiesced to his unilateral decree.
The next day, Kashi changed into outdoor clothes well before the appointed time.
—"Wear something you don't mind getting wet and dirty. You'll probably have to toss it afterward, so leave anything valuable behind."
As her father instructed, Kashi donned disposable attire, topping it off with cheap sandals. Her preparations complete, she waited as the time approached. Frey drew near, dressed in a suit, shirt, and tie—each piece worth thousands of dollars, yet mere "disposables" to him. He glanced at his leather watch.
"It's time."
He beckoned her. Kashi instinctively headed for the front door but froze when Frey veered toward the stairs inside the house.
"Father. Aren't we going out?"
"I said we're going somewhere. Never said we were stepping outside."
Muttering about her wasted makeup, Kashi followed him down the stairs. Clack, thud. His polished shoes and her sandals echoed on the familiar steps. Basement level three—the domain of boilers and storage—where Frey halted. He glanced back at her, then manipulated the management room computer.
Tap-tap-tap. His elegant fingers danced across the keys. With a final enter,
Whirr.
A secret door slid open. Kashi's jaw dropped at the sight of this hidden portal she'd never seen before. Ignoring her shock, Frey gestured.
"Let's go."
The stairs beyond the secret door plunged into deeper subterranean gloom. Father and daughter descended slowly, guided by dim, hazy lights. After a stretch, Frey broke the silence.
"You've finally matured."
"I'm already an adult."
"Turning twenty doesn't make you mature."
"Pfft..."
Kashi puffed her cheeks. Normally, he'd indulge her cuteness, but not today. His face was set, as if fearing the darkness below, offering no reaction. From ahead came his flat voice.
"Our family recognizes a child as an adult twenty years after awakening their mystic power."
"I've never heard of that."
"We never told you."
"Did Owen go through it too?"
"Yes. Five years ago, while you were at the academy."
"Then why keep it secret all this time?"
"For your sake. Power beyond one's grasp is a curse."
"...What?"
The topic grew heavy; Kashi couldn't help but probe.
"What do you mean..."
"Kashi. What do you think allowed the Recetio family to reign as elders here for decades?"
Without hesitation, she replied.
"Education and monopolizing talent, right?"
Money and investment secrets, political acumen, interpersonal tightrope-walking, flawless short-term investments yielding maximum long-term gains—all passed down through rigorous training. Kashi had no doubt this was the source of their power. But Frey denied it outright.
"No. Human society is neither perfect nor stable. Even the finest education doesn't guarantee success. Our constant victories stem from—"
— glimpsing the future.
Her steps faltered at his sudden words. Days ago, passing his room, she'd overheard "revelation." Now it echoed in her mind. Backpedaling up the stairs, she froze as Frey spoke calmly.
"I know what you're thinking, but I'm not offering you as a sacrifice to some cult. Come down. You'll ask how I knew that, right?"
"How did you... Huh?"
Kashi faltered. Guessing her question was feasible, but he nailed her exact phrasing before she uttered it.
"Exactly."
"You really... Wha?"
"Really glimpsed the future and answered preemptively. Believe me now? You were about to ask if I'm seeing it right this moment, weren't you? As you can see."
"..."
Her mouth hung open. Whatever she tried to say next—even an out-of-left-field quip—
"...What point is there in asking me, who knows the location of that victory lingerie in your drawer?"
—he predicted flawlessly. No choice but to believe.
"And today, you'll awaken that power. So stop fleeing and come down."
"Ah... Okay."
She descended reluctantly. Confirming she'd reached the bottom, he shoved open the heavy iron door. A massive chamber yawned before them. Familiar elder faces awaited. Under their gazes, Kashi shrank as Frey addressed her.
"Since you'll demand an explanation in the future anyway, I'll give it now. Revelation, precognitive dreams, prophecy, future sight—forms vary, but our family glimpses the future. Mine takes the form of revelation."
Frey's revelations were whispers from his future self in his ear. Initially subconscious bursts, decades of training let him summon them at will.
"By piecing together sounds I'd hear across countless parallel worlds, I discern the future."
"Then why hide it from me all these years..."
"Glimpsing the future isn't the convenient blessing you imagine. It might even be a curse. Even for me. Knowing it has dulled my emotions."
Kashi recalled his usual demeanor. Among megacorp presidents, he was remarkably emotive—childish at times, booming with laughter in joy, even showing paternal petulance toward her. Publicly, too. So she initially misunderstood. But grasping his full meaning, realization dawned.
"Don't tell me... it was all an act?"
He nodded faintly. Her face paled. His smiles, tears—all performances steering toward favorable futures. Occasional glimpses of humanity drew loyalty. Admitting this, his expression betrayed weariness, as if he'd repeated this talk endlessly, knowing this moment changed nothing.
He openly showed fatigue, eager to end it.
"If even I ended up like this, imagine awakening at your emotionally vibrant age."
Most led to tragedy or brain damage. Thus, timing was strictly controlled: when mind and mystic power both matured. Pegged at twenty years post-awakening.
"Your power has stabilized, your mind sufficiently matured. Today, we awaken yours."
Now his eccentricities made sense. If this explained his prodigious investment genius from youth, it fit. And not just him—her brother too...
Brother too?
Her thoughts halted there. She grabbed Frey.
"Father. You said Owen's rite was five years ago?"
"Yes."
"And that's when 'that woman' fell into her weird cult?"
"Five years ago."
"You... knew that future too?"
"Yes."
Grind. Teeth clenched till they might shatter, Kashi glared murderously at his back.
"Do you even love your family? Or can you even feel that?"
He nodded.
"I love you."
She understood the depth. Trembling, she shook her head.
"I don't want to awaken. I don't want to lose my humanity."
"Are you sure?"
"About what? I have power—"
"Refuse, and you'll lose your friends."
"Blackmail?"
"Advice. I told you—I love you sincerely."
His emotionless decree compelled assent. It rang true. Reluctantly, she consented.
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Good girl. You'll understand someday."
"If I don't go mad first."
"That won't happen."
Following his assured back, Kashi prepared for the rite at the chamber's center. Frey turned away, readying the ritual oil. As she closed her eyes, reaffirming her humanity, he spoke.
"One misunderstanding to correct."
"Yes?"
"Why assume there's no world where I tried to stop your mother?"
His sorrowful tone silenced her. Oil ready, the family head approached. Kashi knelt; he pricked his finger on the jar's thorns.
Drip, drip. Three drops of blood mingled with the oil. Elders encircled her, chanting in an unknown tongue. Frey raised the jar over her head. Before tilting, his weary voice murmured,
"I love you, Kashi. Please, you at least..."
You at least? Before she could ask, oil poured. Blood-tinged, fragrant yet metallic. Eyes shut, she flinched—surely just three drops. The last hit her crown.
"It's done. Open your eyes."
Relief washed over her; no grand ordeal. Wringing oil from her hair, she looked up—and met an elder's gaze.
"?!"
A floating sensation filled her vision. No better word. Then, myriad threads appeared. From a spool at her feet, threads branched like limbs. At their ends, scenes unfolded. She knew: futures with this elder. In most, he respected and obeyed her. Some clashed but yielded. In rare few...
He poisoned her.
"!!"
She recoiled. Another elder's eyes: once in a thousand futures, stabbing her sleeping heart. Another: 0.01% chance exploding her car. 0.02%: shoving her off a cliff. 0.004%: trapping her in a burning warehouse. Every elder held slim odds of her death. Revulsion surged. They gazed fondly now.
"Oh! Seeing the future?"
"This one's a success!"
"What futures do you see?"
Clueless to her visions, their warmth amplified the dissonance. She sought refuge in her father—his relieved eyes. Yet once in ten thousand, he killed her... or died by her hand.
That broke her.
"Urk—!"
She vomited bile. Headache throbbed. Brain overwhelmed, shutting down. Dimming vision, she felt supporting arms—her father's. Elders' pleased voices:
"Fainted from distant futures? Or too many?"
"Sleep well, child. Explanations can wait."
"Heh, first since the founder? A family blessing."
No concern. Revulsion crested again. Last, her father's voice:
"Kashi. Never break. I love you. Truly."
Lips brushed her forehead. She slipped into sleep.