Shadow Slave:The legacy fallen in a world of nightmares Chapter 6 6: Pragmatism

His voice was nothing more than a thread, a dragged whisper rising from the bottom of a well. "Help …"It wasn't a cry for help against a monster or an enemy.It was a cry for help against himself — against a world that had bent over his shoulders until it cracked him.

The professor — whose na he couldn't rember, though her face carried distant echoes of clan banquets he'd rather forget — froze for a second. Her sleepy expression vanished, replaced by an analytical and, surprisingly, compassionate gaze. She knelt down, bringing herself to his level.

— Breathe, — she ordered, but her voice was gentle, a sharp contrast to her earlier tone. — Look at . Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.

Samael tried. The air ca in uneven gasps, but he followed her instructions. Her hand didn't touch him, but it stayed there — steady, a fixed point in a room that felt like it was spinning.

— Again, — she said.

After a few cycles, the panic began to retreat, leaving behind crushing exhaustion and a sha that burned hotter than any fever.

A few minutes after the brief collapse, Samael realized his emotions felt… strange.

As if they were dulled.Sedated.

His eyes were still swollen, and the sha burned stronger than any pain. Crying in front of soone. Asking for help. It made him deeply uncomfortable.

What is she going to do to ?Therapy? Is she going to force into therapy?

—I don't want therapy… I don't need that,* he thought irritably. It was just a mont of sadness.

The pain of his Aspect was still there.

But not the way it should be.

It was no longer sharp pain — it was a constant, nagging agony, like sothing wrong was twisting inside him.

As they walked through the corridors reserved for staff, he noticed they weren't that different from the students' hallways. Sa cold walls, sa impersonal atmosphere.

He could easily get lost here too.

Eventually, they reached what he assud was the professor's office.

The room was simple: a wooden desk, two chairs, a small bookshelf, and a window overlooking the academy garden.

She sat behind the desk, muttering sothing about being hungry, and gestured vaguely for Samael to sit in the chair across from her.

— So… — she said, crossing her arms. — What was that?

Her expression was no longer sleepy.

Her black eyes stared at him intensely, as if forcing him to give the answer she wanted to hear.

— Nothing, — he replied.

And, surprisingly, he felt lighter.

He couldn't tell if it was because he'd vented — or simply because he'd stopped running — but the pressure in his chest had eased. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his back.

— Aah… — the professor sighed, running a hand through her hair. — This is why I hate dealing with teenagers.

Her tone was irritated, but not cruel.

— You all insist on carrying the world on your own.

Samael lowered his head, feeling a faint sense of guilt.

He would never tell her what he had truly been through.

Not to her.Not to anyone.Never.

That wasn't what he wanted.And it wasn't what the old Samael would have done either.

Still…

He felt that she was a good person.

In her own way.

A good person.

— Hm… — he murmured, almost inaudibly. — I don't think soone who works as a teacher should say that.

She raised an eyebrow slightly.

— No one's listening, — she replied calmly. — So it's not a problem.

Samael didn't answer.

— Since you don't want to say what happened, I won't force you, — she continued. — But rember this: no one lives alone in this world. That's not an opinion. It's a law.

There was sothing in her tone.

Not arrogance.

Experience.

I know, Samael thought. I just… need ti.

Ti to understand that world.Ti to gather allies.Ti to not break.

— Now, the second question, — the professor said, leaning forward slightly. — What were you doing in the female sector?

The wind slipped in through the window, ssing up her dark hair.

— Depending on your answer, you could be expelled. So think carefully before you respond.

She was serious.

And she would follow through.

What do I do…?

There was no simple answer.

His Flaw was absurdly difficult to hide.And explaining it?Practically impossible.

Hunger was starting to take its toll. His body felt weak, heavy, as if it were on the verge of shutting down.

Samael took a deep breath.

If he couldn't tell the truth…Then he would have to control the consequences.

He raised his gaze.

— You… — he began, but his voice ca out weaker than planned.

He swallowed.

— You promise you won't spread this around?

For the first ti since arriving in that world…

Samael decided to use his Aspect.

Not to fight.Not to survive.

But to negotiate.

— Of course. I don't like gossip, — she replied casually.

Easy to say…You're not the one about to have your Flaw exposed.

Samael clenched his teeth.

Even so, thanks to the Honest Trickster, he knew: she wasn't lying.

He took a deep breath.

— My Flaw… — he began, his voice heavy. — It changes my gender depending on the ti of day.

The silence that followed wasn't shock.

It was evaluation.

— I see, — the professor said, resting her elbow on the desk. — You're an idiot.

The word landed dry and blunt.

— You tried to hide a Flaw that's impossible to hide. Obviously that wasn't going to work.

Seriously?I'd like to see you in my place.

Anger flared up fast and hot.

His eyes drifted, unwillingly, to a badge lying on the desk.

Layla Stern.

Of course…A Legacy.

Spoiled people always talked like they knew everything.

— I'll have to speak with the administration, — Layla continued as if nothing had happened. — You'll need an isolated room, away from both sectors.

She shot him a brief glance.

— After all, a certain idiot managed to cause the biggest ss on his very first day.

The words cut deeper than Samael expected.

Not because of the insult.

But because…

She was right.