The silence in the library became so dense that one could almost feel the weight of every decision on the board. Jasper leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the position of my pieces, while his fingers tapped with a hypnotic cadence against the oak table. I, for my part, felt my mind working at a breakneck speed; the movement patterns of the pieces intertwined with my mental power, allowing me to see gaps in his defense that anyone else would have overlooked.
Jasper moved his queen—a brilliant maneuver intended to corner me—but I had already foreseen it. I slid my knight with surgical precision.
"Check," I whispered, feeling a small surge of triumph.
Jasper stopped dead in his tracks. His gaze snapped from the board to my eyes, and for a second, the coldness of his facade broke to make way for genuine admiration. He analyzed the position for a full minute, running through every possible variation in his mind. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh that sounded like the rustle of silk.
"Draw," he announced in his deep voice. "If I move my king, you force me to repeat the sequence. If I try to attack, I lose the positional advantage. It's a technical stalemate, Mael."
"I told you it wasn't going to be easy," I replied, taking a sip of my glass of water while trying to steady my heart rate, which was racing.
Alice, who had been watching the match with feline intensity, let out an enchanted giggle.
"Impressive. No one in this house, aside from Edward when he cheats, has managed to put Jasper in a draw situation that fast."
At that moment, the rhythmic sound of footsteps on the parquet announced Esme's arrival. She entered the library carrying a professional-looking leather folder and a smile that seemed to radiate infinite peace.
"I'm sorry to interrupt this duel of titans," Esme said, approaching the table with elegance, "but I have the documents ready for your collaboration, Mael. I've drafted a formal proposal that includes the confidentiality terms and the details of the architectural projects we will be working on."
I stood up, feeling the weight of responsibility but also an excitement I couldn't contain. Jasper rose as well, maintaining that respectful distance, but with a look that now seemed to recognize something new in me.
"I've prepared a space for you in the upstairs studio," Esme continued, handing me the folder. "There's a professional drafting table and all the materials you might need. But as we agreed, the idea is for you to come whenever your schedule allows. We don't want this to interfere with your studies."
"Thank you very much, Esme. I'll review everything carefully, but I'm sure there won't be any problems," I responded, feeling the touch of the high-quality paper beneath my fingers.
"Alice told me you have an exceptional eye for light," Esme added, casting a fleeting glance at the chessboard. "And I see you also have a very sharp strategic mind. That will be of great use to us for the more complex perspective blueprints."
Jasper took a step closer, enough for me to perceive that scent of forest and frost that surrounded him. "It's a good start," he said, and although his words were brief, the intonation—laden with respect—made me feel like I had won much more than a simple draw.
Alice took me by the arm with that inexhaustible energy that characterized her. "Well! Now that the business is underway and you've proven you can survive a match with Jasper, I think it's time we give you a more detailed tour of the rest of the house. There are some corners an artist like you will know how to appreciate."
I looked at Esme, who nodded with approval, and then at Jasper, who kept his gaze fixed on me. I knew that by accepting this job, I wasn't just signing a professional contract; I was sealing my entry into the private world of the Cullens. The adventure of the mansion in the woods had just taken its first official step.
The drive back home was much louder than the way there. Alice seemed to float over the driver's seat, her hands barely touching the steering wheel of the Volvo as she spoke at a speed that would have left any human breathless. She was radiant. She explained that Esme was already planning what coffee to buy for when I visited and how Jasper, though he wouldn't openly admit it, had been impressed by my defense on the chessboard.
"It's going to be fantastic, Mael," she said, turning toward me with a smile that made her eyes shine like gems. "Having you at the house more often... it's as if a puzzle piece we didn't know was missing has finally appeared."
"I'm happy too, Alice," I replied, though my voice sounded a bit more muted due to mental exhaustion. Being near them was like being near a sun: warm and bright, but also a bit overwhelming for someone still learning to be the center of attention.
When she dropped me off in front of Charlie's house, she gave me a quick hug that smelled like strawberries and mountain air. "See you soon, partner," she said before disappearing down the road in a silver blink.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, I didn't even have time to drop my portfolio before Bella emerged from the kitchen like a bloodhound that had caught a fresh scent. Her arms were crossed, wearing that inquisitive look she used when she was convinced the world was hiding something and she was the only one capable of uncovering it.
"And?" she blurted out, blocking my path to the stairs. "How was it? What happened in that house? Did you see anything... strange?"
I sighed, feeling my patience slipping away. "It was a job interview, Bella. Nothing more. Esme is lovely, the house is an architectural marvel, and I already have the contract."
"And Edward? Was he there? Did he do anything? Mael, don't tell me you didn't feel like the atmosphere was weird."
I stopped dead and looked her directly in the eyes, letting a bit of my internal frustration leak into my voice. "Bella, please, stop playing detective. Nothing unusual happened. They are wealthy, cultured, and a bit reserved people, that's all. Stop looking for conspiracy theories around every corner because you're exhausting me. If you want to find mysteries, read one of your books, but leave the Cullens alone."
Bella took a step back, surprised by the harshness of my words. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she remained silent. I took advantage of that second of hesitation to go up to my room, close the door, and release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I couldn't stay still. Bella's warning and my own experience at the mansion had left my mental strength vibrating with electric intensity. I needed to burn that energy. I needed to know what I was capable of before sitting in front of Esme or Jasper again.
I went out through the back door, making sure Bella was sufficiently distracted with her chores, and headed into the thick of the woods. I walked until the ferns covered my waist and the ancient trees formed a canopy over my head.
I stood in a small clearing, closing my eyes and letting the cold afternoon air hit my face. I summoned the psychic energy. This time it wasn't a spark; it was a fire.
The membrane emerged instantly, enveloping me with a fidelity I had already mastered. At eight centimeters from my skin, the barrier was solid, firm, and cost me almost no effort to maintain. It felt like a second skin, an exoskeleton of pure will. But it wasn't enough.
"More," I ordered internally.
I pushed the energy outward. I visualized the membrane expanding, moving away from my body. Nine centimeters. Ten. Pain began to throb behind my eyeballs, a reminder that I was forcing the limits of my biological hardware.
"Eleven..." I grunted, clenching my fists.
At twelve centimeters, I felt a metaphorical "crack" in my mind. It was as if a dam had burst. The barrier vibrated with violent force, becoming almost opaque for a second. The pain transformed into liquid fire running through my nerves. I felt the familiar heat trickling down my lip and knew I was bleeding again, but I didn't stop.
I maintained the twelve centimeters for a full minute. I watched as the leaves falling from the trees drifted away upon touching the edge of my shield, unable to penetrate the force field I had created.
Finally, I released the pressure. The energy returned to my body with an impact that left me on my knees on the damp earth. I wiped the blood from my nose with the back of my hand, looking at the red stain on my pale skin. It hurt, yes, but I also felt a deep and dark satisfaction.
I realized that this power worked exactly like a muscle. For it to grow, it has to be torn. You have to strain the fibers of your will until they break and rebuild themselves stronger, denser. Pain wasn't a stop sign; it was the sound of progress. Every drop of blood was an investment in my own survival.
I sat there in the silence of the Forks woods, feeling my mind repair itself. Tomorrow would be easier. Tomorrow, twelve centimeters would be my new comfort zone.
The rest of Saturday passed in a sort of post-training trance. After cleaning up the traces of my effort in the woods, I returned to the house, my facial muscles still tight from concentration. We had a light dinner, and I retired early, letting restorative sleep weld the fissures in my mind. Sunday was a day of absolute discipline: I divided my time between literature essays and more rigorous physical and mental training.
I did push-ups and running drills in the backyard so my body wouldn't be a drag on my mind, and I dedicated hours to my psychic energy, making the twelve centimeters of my shield feel natural, like an extension of my own skin.
When Monday morning arrived, the Forks sky greeted us with its usual lead-colored mantle, promising that humidity that seeps into your bones. At school, the atmosphere was charged with the expectation of the greenhouse field trip, but for me, it was simply another opportunity to observe and be observed.
After lunch, we crowded into the parking lot to board the yellow buses. I kept my distance, leaning against a fence, watching the scene unfold before my eyes. Mike Newton, with that blind confidence I found almost fascinating, had Bella cornered near the bus door.
"So, Bella... the spring dance is right around the corner," Mike was saying, scratching the back of his neck. "I was thinking maybe you and I... you know."
Bella looked at him with a mix of discomfort and pity. I crossed my arms, holding back a laugh.
"Mike, I really can't. I have to go to Jacksonville that weekend," she blurted out suddenly.
I froze. Jacksonville? I didn't know anything about that trip. Bella hadn't mentioned a word to me about visiting Mom or having bought tickets. I looked toward Edward, who stood a few meters away, motionless as a statue. His eyes were fixed on them, and his expression was indecipherable, but the tension in his jaw betrayed that he was processing every word from my sister.
"Did you buy the tickets?" Mike insisted, visibly disappointed. "You could cancel them, right?"
"No, Mike. Everything is already set," Bella snapped, taking advantage of Mr. Clapp starting to shout for everyone to board at once.
We got on the bus amidst that atmosphere charged with hormones and social rejections. I sat alone, staring out the window, thinking about when my sister had become so good at hiding things... or if she was simply making up a desperate excuse to escape the dance.
Upon arriving at the botanical greenhouse, the humid heat and the smell of earth and decomposing vegetation enveloped us. The teacher began a monotonous lecture on photosynthesis and endemic species, but my mind was elsewhere. I lagged behind, faking interest in a plant with fleshy leaves, when I felt the air around me change. It became colder, sharper.
To my left appeared Alice, with her vibrant energy and sparkling eyes. To my right, Jasper materialized with that lethal elegance that always made my hair stand on end. They had me boxed in between them, creating a bubble of privacy in the middle of the group of students.
"Hello, Mael," Alice whispered, leaning toward me. "Esme has asked me three times today if I'd seen you yet. Are you going to the office this afternoon to work with her?"
I tried to hide the pressure I felt having them so close. They were like two forces of nature surrounding me, and my energy began to throb under my skin, recognizing their presence.
"Yes, I'll be there. I wouldn't stand Esme up after the trust she's placed in me," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
Jasper said nothing, but his gaze was fixed on me. For a second, I could have sworn I saw the trace of a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips—a gesture so subtle anyone else would have missed it, but I, being detail-oriented, noticed it immediately.
Further ahead, I saw Bella talking to Edward in a narrow aisle between pots. The tension between them was so dense it gave me an instant headache. Those two are going to drive me crazy, I thought. I decided to ignore them and focus on the pleasant chat with Alice, who began telling me anecdotes about the botanical disasters Emmett used to cause.
Finally, the teacher gave us a break before the trip back. We stepped out into the fresh air, which felt like a blessing after the sweltering greenhouse. I stayed chatting with Alice and Jasper near the entrance, enjoying the strange comfort I was starting to feel with them.
I saw Bella come out and pass by Eric, who was chasing some girls with a worm on a stick. Bella didn't even look my way; her mind was clearly elsewhere. When she got near the buses, Edward intercepted her. They stood there, speaking in low voices, wrapped in that aura of mystery that always surrounded them.
I stepped forward with Alice and Jasper, getting a bit closer, but I stayed a pace behind. Alice, always kind and seeking to smooth things over, approached to break the awkward silence that had formed between Edward and my sister.
"Bella, are you coming with us on our bus?" Alice asked with her bell-like voice, trying to integrate my sister.
Edward turned sharply, with a frigid expression. "They're full," he said, leaving no room for a rebuttal.
They turned around and boarded their vehicle, leaving Bella standing there, her shoulders slumped slightly. I quickly moved to her side and put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to transmit some of my own energy.
"Let's go, Bells," I said softly, guiding her toward our bus. "Forget about that. By the way, the chocolate cake is running out, and I know you can't survive without your sugar fix. Do you want any specific dessert for this afternoon?"
Bella sighed, resting her head on my shoulder for a moment as we walked. "Whatever you want, Mael. You know I'd eat a shoe if you cooked it."
"Then it's decided: I'll make a lemon pie. That tart touch will help clear your head of all this drama."
She nodded, giving me a small smile that made me feel that, despite the Cullens, the mental abilities, and the lies about Jacksonville, at least in the kitchen, it was still just the two of us. We boarded the bus, and as the engine started, I began mentally planning the perfect meringue, knowing that this afternoon, after dessert, Esme's office awaited me... and another encounter with mystery.
Arriving at the Cullen residence for my first official day of work didn't feel like an obligation, but like a return to a place where I could be myself at full capacity doing what I love. I parked the Chevy and, with my portfolio under my arm and renewed determination, crossed the threshold.
Esme greeted me with that serenity that seemed capable of calming storms. Her studio, bathed in the dying light of the Forks afternoon, was a sanctuary of order and creativity.
Working with her was an almost hypnotic experience. She moved with a calm that made even the most complex blueprints seem simple. We spent a couple of hours concentrated on the ornamental details of the private library she was designing.
"Mael, look at this molding," she said, pointing to a blueprint. "I need the perspective to capture the depth of the carving. Digital programs make it look too rigid, but you... you give it that organic warmth."
I sat beside her and began to draw. My hands moved with a confidence that surprised even me. I wasn't using my powers—I had promised myself that the energy I felt inside would only come out in case of real danger—but the mental discipline I had acquired training my shield allowed for absolute concentration. I could visualize the finished piece in my head before the pencil even touched the paper.
"It's perfect," Esme whispered, watching how the graphite brought the wood to life on the paper. "You have a gift, Mael. Not just for art, but for understanding the essence of things."
When we finished the session, Esme gave me a break. I went downstairs, where Alice intercepted me before my feet even touched the last step.
"Mael! I need your professional opinion," she exclaimed, leading me toward the great hall where several design magazines were scattered. "I'm debating between raw silk or velvet for a personal project. Velvet has more drama, but silk... silk is eternal."
I laughed, sinking into the sofa. "Alice, for someone living in a place where it always rains, velvet feels a bit heavy, don't you think? Silk would capture the little light we have here much better."
"Exactly!" she shrieked with joy, giving me a light tap on the shoulder. "I knew your artistic eye wouldn't fail me. You have a natural instinct for aesthetics, even if you keep insisting on wearing those old wool sweaters."
Jasper, who was sitting in a nearby armchair reading a leather-bound book, looked up. His expression was the usual: a watchful calm, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement upon hearing Alice.
"Leave him alone, Alice. Not everyone wants their wardrobe to be a declaration of war against sobriety," Jasper said in his deep voice.
"Feel like a rematch, Jasper?" I asked, pointing to the chessboard that still presided over the side table.
"Only if you're prepared for there to be no draw this time," he replied, closing his book with a sharp thud.
We played for an hour. It was a faster match than Saturday's, charged with a delicious intellectual tension. We spoke little, but every move of the pieces was a conversation in itself. Jasper was methodical, almost mathematical; I was more intuitive. Alice stayed by our side, commenting on how the design of the chess pieces influences the psychology of the player. I managed to keep pace with him, although this time Jasper ended up winning by a narrow margin.
"Good game, Mael," he said, offering his hand. His touch was cold as ice, but it was strangely comforting.
I said goodbye to everyone around eight at night. Alice offered to drive me, but I said I brought my Chevy and also had to stop by the supermarket for some things for the house, so she didn't keep insisting.
I stopped by the small grocery store in Forks. The contrast was brutal: going from the timeless perfection of the Cullen mansion to narrow aisles with flickering fluorescent lights and the smell of cheap detergent.
I walked through the aisles looking for what I needed for the lemon pie:
A bag of fresh lemons (I needed them to be very tart).
Condensed milk.
Eggs for the meringue.
Butter and cookies for the base.
While waiting in line to pay, I looked at my reflection in the window. I looked like a normal boy buying groceries, but inside, I felt the psychic energy, ready to protect my world if anything went wrong again.
I arrived home just as Bella was finishing studying. I showed her the bag with the lemons, and she gave me one of those rare smiles she only gave to me.
"We'll have pie tomorrow," I promised her.
"Then the world will be a little less bitter tomorrow," she replied, heading up to sleep.
I stayed alone in the kitchen for a moment, feeling the weight of the day. I had worked with an amazing architect, played chess, and discussed fashion. And now, quite simply, I was going to cook for my little sister.