The room was quiet.
Not empty. Controlled.
Kashikari sat by the window, his gaze fixed outside. The sky was pale, the light soft, but none of it reached him. His focus was elsewhere.
Inside.
Jinwi pulsed faintly. Not aggressive. Not calm.
Watching.
Waiting.
Kashikari exhaled slowly, keeping his breathing steady. He had learned that much. Small control. Temporary balance.
But it wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
"You're thinking too loud."
The voice came from behind.
Kashikari didn't turn.
"…You can hear that?"
Dorum stepped into the room fully, his presence heavy but stable. Unlike Jinwi, his aura didn't press or distort. It held.
"I don't need to hear it," Dorum replied. "I can see it."
A pause.
Kashikari's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Then you know."
Dorum didn't answer immediately. He studied him instead, silent, measuring.
"I know it's getting worse."
Direct.
No hesitation.
Kashikari looked away.
"…I stopped it."
"Barely."
That hit.
Clean.
Kashikari's jaw tightened.
Silence filled the room, but it wasn't empty. It was tension, stretched thin between them.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Dorum continued. "That moment."
Kashikari didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
Dorum stepped closer.
"That wasn't just power."
A pause.
"That was intent."
Kashikari's fingers curled slightly.
"…It's not mine."
"I know."
The answer came instantly.
No doubt.
That made it worse.
Kashikari looked at him, something sharper in his gaze now.
"Then what is it?"
Dorum didn't look away.
"Something that will erase you if you don't take control of it."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Kashikari held his stare for a second longer, then looked down at his hand.
"…I am controlling it."
Dorum shook his head.
"No. You're surviving it."
The same conclusion.
Different voice.
Kashikari exhaled through his nose, frustration building under the surface.
"…Then what do you want me to do?"
Dorum didn't hesitate.
"You're going to Arcanis Tempest."
Kashikari's gaze snapped back to him.
"…What?"
"A school," Dorum said. "Not for normal people."
A brief pause.
"For people like you."
Kashikari frowned.
"…I don't need that."
"You do."
Flat. Final.
Kashikari stood up.
The air shifted slightly—not violently, but enough.
"I don't need a place full of people."
"And they don't need you losing control near them," Dorum replied immediately.
Silence.
That landed.
Hard.
Kashikari's expression didn't change, but something behind it did.
"You felt it yourself," Dorum continued. "Out there. One mistake…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Kashikari's gaze dropped for a second.
Just a second.
"…I won't let that happen."
"You almost did."
No anger.
No pressure.
Just truth.
Kashikari clenched his fist, then slowly released it.
The air steadied.
"…And a school fixes that?"
Dorum crossed his arms.
"No."
A pause.
"But it gives you a chance."
Silence stretched again.
This time, Kashikari didn't fight it.
He thought.
Actually thought.
Not reacting.
Not suppressing.
Thinking.
…
Then—
"…Fine."
The word came out low.
Controlled.
But real.
Dorum nodded once.
"That's enough."
Kashikari looked at him again.
"…When?"
"Soon."
A short pause.
"You're not ready."
Kashikari almost scoffed.
"…I figured."
Dorum turned, heading toward the door.
"But you won't ever be, if you stay like this."
He stopped briefly.
Without turning back.
"Get used to people."
Then he left.
Silence returned.
But it felt different now.
Not empty.
Directed.
Kashikari stood there for a moment, unmoving.
Then he looked down at his hand again.
Jinwi pulsed.
Slow.
Aware.
"…Arcanis Tempest."
The name felt heavy.
Unfamiliar.
Necessary.
Kashikari closed his hand.
This wasn't a choice anymore.
It was a step.
Forward.
Or nowhere.
And somewhere deep inside—
Jinwi didn't resist.
Not yet.
But it was listening.