Money makes the World go Round

~°°~

Five o'clock. The meeting was suppose to be quarter to five. Professor Hulner tapped his foot against the floor, his back rod straight as he sat and fixed his coat for the ninth time. The uniform given to him appeared to be rather shabby and oversized. Next to him sat Professor Jhlor who kept looking for the time, locket in their hands as they flicked it open and close, their untied graying hair lounging in their shoulders. They gazed at the sleek, silver telephone positioned at the edge of the elongated, circular table and the vacant chairs, exhaling tiredly. The screens in front and behind them were riddled with cracks. The light flickered. The curtains fluttered without the air bellowing it. Silence reigned.

Professor Hulner picked the scab under his sleeves and instinctively brought it to his lips. Steely brown eyes watched the small movement meticulously. Maybe it's disgust. The room was not that properly lit for him to see.

"Nice time for coffee, don't you think, sir?" he said conversationally with a frantic drumming of his fingers in the rounded table.

They nodded, politely. "I wish I could say that they're usually not like this... unpunctual." They clicked their tongue, scrounging a tone of distaste. "But that would be a lie, so.." Their sentence ended with a half-shrug, lips pursed as they leaned to the chair.

"Oh, I thought you were just recently stationed here just like I was because of the emergency incidents," he said the last words hesitatingly. "You seem to know them well, sir."

"I've shifted here at Dome 13 atleast four times. Unfortunately, Noirin has the tendency to sync the same as me probably because we're from the same batch and he's thirty eight and I'm forty. So, it's eight long years of waiting and waiting at this same very table." They sighed, pressing their clean black gloves to the table with a soft thump.

Professor Hulner leaned closer, pushing his chair with his feet excitedly. "What's the nicest Dome-"

The door blasted open and a woman sauntered in, fire in cold, beady eyes and literally as well. Parts of her suits and tie was tarnished with char and her long black, coiled hair tied into one long braid, had been swept back through sweat, singed. Her sleeve was rolled, revealing arms and hands smudged by ink and ash. There's a small scar running across her nose. This was his first meeting with the Principal. She's rather... odd. Unprofessional, clumsy even.

Professor Jhlor seemed only slightly fazed by this unprofessional and marred with soot Principal, barely arching their eyebrow and said, "You're late."

"Atleast, it's not an hour?" Her voice was smooth, rather deep and calm. She smiled sheepishly as she jogged to the head chair in the end of the table, dragging a scent of jasmine with her. Her fingers trailed the headrest of empty chairs she passed by. "Wait, has anyone seen my coat?"

Professor Jhlor rolled their eyes. "If you clean up the dump you're calling a room, you might see it."

She frowned, slightly shaking her head. "Nevermind, shall we start?"

Professor Jhlor crossed their arms, this time glaring at the other empty chair that stood the opposite side of the table. "Noirin is still not here."

"And, um," the new Professor piped in, " ma'am, the head nurse as well."

She waved them both off. "She's quite overworked ever since for weeks now so I figured a break might be nice. Professor Noirin can catch up later. He's shameless enough for that anyways." She clapped her hands together as she looked meaningfully at the telephone sitting pliantly in the table. "Plus, the guests are waiting."

Professor Jhlor snorted.

The Principal heed them no mind, handset already pressed against her ears, fingers quickly punching the numbers in a quick, jutting sequence. It rang, twice and thrice before the call was received. "Good day, Madame, I-yes, I apologize for the delays and the inconveniences that had happened to - Yes," she said patiently. "The guests can now come. The betting can now proceed. Good day, once again. Thank you."

She placed the telephone back to the holder hastily. Professor Hulner had heard stories about the Dome 13, especially about how it engrossed the world through entertainment and meat quality, having ninety-seven percent and ninety-three percent satisfaction rate respectively. It's a bit of a shock that the Principal of such achievements seemed to be a bit of -

Her gaze shifted towards him, emitting a captivating yet enigmatic intensity and he flinched, back straightening more.

"Gentlemen? Your masks, please?" The Principal said instead, a mask already slotted to her face. It was an odd mask, hiding only the upper part of her face.The mask took the form of an animal with two large, rounded eyes and a hooked, yellowed beak, resembling that of a bird. He fumbled for the mask of his; a blank mask. He was unsure what to make of it and well, mainly because he didn't think it would be this necessary. Professor Jhlor, on the other hand, fashioned his mask into a whimsical cat with swirling designs. Whoever said that contrasts work wonderfully are either blind or humongous liars.

In his peripheral vision, he noticed the Principal's back trembling with suppressed laughter. She cleared her throat, quickly regaining her composure as quickly as it momentarily faltered. Suddenly, a tray emerged from the still open door, carrying glasses and bottles of eight-month fermented potato wine.

Adjusting her tie and briskly wiping her arms, the Principal politely requested the floating plate to bring her the recorder or something. It gleefully whizzed in out like a breeze, retrieving a squared device with a circular pattern at its center, a coiled wire trailing behind before falling down to the table like an uautomated thing it is. With a smile, she grabbed the device, her eyes flicking back to Professor Hulner's.

She strode to him, one step, two steps, and grabbed his hand, her forming smile laced with sweetened poison. "Can I borrow your hand?"

Beside him, he saw Professor Jhlor shaking his head with such intensity that it looked like it was vibrating. But Hulner could not find it in himself to disagree. In a slow, shaky manner, he nodded.

The Principal's smile bared teeth, her other hand weighing the device's adopter as she thrust them to the soft flesh of his palm until it drew blood. He yelped, eyes shot open wide, tearing up due to the stinging pain as blood ooze out from the wound as the Principal patted his shoulder. A spark of electricity flickered from the splintered skin and soon enough, after the crackle of distortion, the soft orchestral tunes of Fly Me to the Moon hummed peacefully in the air. Flabbergasted, Professor Hulner almost laughed, wide-eyed and blinking blearily at the other professor.

Professor Jhlor winced, looking away muttering, "How unsanitary. Is this really necessary?"

"Well, I have to make sure. Plus, what kind of auction doesn't have music?" She shrugged, pretending not to hear their mutters about how this wasn't the only way and that no, it wasn't required to have music in auctions. She turned back to Professor Hulner, who now, hunched limply to his seat, jaw set and teeth gritted as he shakily caressed the adopter that was still seeping in his skin. "Hold it for a little while, will you?" Without waiting for a reply, she slapped the crook of his shoulders once again and slunk back to her seat. "Atta boy."

That was when Professor Noirin bludgeoned his way in, looking like a drink away from either fainting and foaming in the mouth due to alcohol poisoning or splattering vomit in the ground. Or both. He reeked of beer and pine too intoxicated to actually give a damn about what was happening and merely gave a grunt as a greeting as he slumped to an empty seat.

"Stand.." The Principal raised up her hand. "Let's welcome the Emissioners from the Great Wall."

Professor Jhlor launched over the table and hissed something unintelligible, slapping a blank mask from their backpocket to the intoxicated man just as electricity and smoke fizzled out through the ceiling. They landed to the other side in their feet as they dragged the drunkyard up to stand. With an unbroken composure, they straightened their posture and set their lip to a prim line. Professor Hulner shoved the device in his pockets and hid his hands behind his back.

The roof split itself open to form an archaic, circular opening of light and blue hues reflected on amber eyes. The air tasted warm, like freshly plucked flowers from spring yet also murky, stained of smoke.

The Greater Men began to descend with grace of angels, clothed in extravagance and and adorned with numerous jewels that Hulner had never before laid eyes upon. Their skin pristine and shining, not a trace of a scar or any of sort. He had heard rumors that they imbibed a potion prior to their arrival, but witnessing it firsthand made him question if it was a lie and that these men possessed the ability to effortlessly soar through the air. However, a voice in his mind contradicted this notion. No. As he turned, the Principal's dark eyes bore into his own, nailing them with furious intensity.

The roof sealed tightly after all of the seven Greater Men were inside.

A lady adorned in a magnificent periwinkle gown, featuring more layers than Hulner had in his hair, was the first to speak. The silk fabric she wore exuded a radiant, shining gloss, adorned with puffy sleeves embellished with sparkling beads arranged in intricate vine patterns. She was the only one who decided to keep her face bare and open while the rest opted to cover it with masks.

"Oh goodness, look at you grown. How have you been, my dear Liberator?" she said, excitedly as she grabbed the Principal by the hand.

"Madame Silvia," the Principal greeted with a slight bow. Her face was twisted into a pliant smile. "Please don't call me that."

"Darling," Silvia Hildebrand admonished with an eyeroll, flipping her graying blonde hair. "We've been thick and through. Just call me Silvia." She smiled, jovially. "Your hands are still so cold, dear."

"Ugh. This happens every time," muttered a man clad in a suit laced in gold. His neat, burnt amber hair was slick backwards, fitting in his intricately crafted squirrel mask. It was of sparkling gold as well, embedded with precious jewels to form eyes and whiskers. He sported a vibrant cape which Professor Hulner found to be extremely stupid. But, the most eye-catching about this man was his ribbon necktie that showcased a central diamond as its centerpiece.

Another lady scoffed and disdainfully waved her feathered fan with her delicate bronze hands. Her rich, brown hair was twisted into a beautiful braid, held by a flowery headpiece. She's beautiful. Even with the mask, Hulner knows so. "I've heard so much about Dome 13." Her captivating almond eyes shone like the brightest of carnelians, burning through the holes of her peacock mask as they quickly analyzed the whole room; particularly the shitty chairs, flickering lights, the cracked screens, the faded curtains, the worst wine probably and the slobbering drunk in Professor Jhlor's shoulder. "It seemed like the unripe grapes of the vineyards were simply painted over."

"Greene," said Madame Silvia warningly.

"I'm not here to watch you play house with your pet," Lady Greene replied with a scorned scowl.

"Of course," the Principal hummed out a response instead. "But, why put an orange in a grape vineyards anyways? You seem to be under a misconception. We are not your cupbearers or ball hosts, we're meatmakers and entertainers."

"Ladies, ladies," called out a bald gentleman, as he straightened his regal cape made of a lion's mane. In a similar fashion, his mask as well sculpted a lion. "You are all very beautiful, but I'm not here to watch all of you squabble like fools."

"Indeed," chirped out a very shrilly voice. A very young girl popped out from behind, wearing a princely tunic, a wonderful purple sash running across her chest. Sharp monolid eyes gazed excitedly through her panda mask, caramel skin peeking under the cuffed sleeves. "My legs are very tired so I demand that we all sit!"

"Yes, I-everyone please sit. " The Principal cleared her throat as she sat down.

The chairs were clearly lacking and Professor Hulner found himself awkwardly shuffling his feet as he and the other two professors stood near the doorway like some underpaid bodyguards. Madame Silvia lunged for the chair closest to the Principal like some wild hyena while the squirrel-masked gentleman dusted off his chosen seat. Lady Greene ran hands on the backside of her skirt as she gracefully sat in the farthest chair possible. The bald man took the seat closest to him, muttering about lost times while the youngest sat on where the wine was placed, eyeing it intensely. The final pair, who maintained a quiet demeanor and donned a perfect black, coordinated attire, sat adjacent to each other on the sidelines.

The Principal scowled at Madame Silvia and toned down her voice as she furiously whispered. "You permitted a child in the auction?"

"Well, age has been biting Whitlock for a while now. She's the only true-blooded heiress, not counting that man's bastards, so I figured to let her come along. Whitlock really wanted his vote in. You know him and his money," whispered back Hildebrand with a chuckle, light blue eyes gleaming. "Plus this is a very good opportunity for the youngsters to be more open-minded about the world."

"I-She's fucking eight-That's not..." The other woman choked, at a loss in words.

Madame Silvia drummed her fingers at the smooth surface of the table as she quirked her head to the side. "Your auction, dear."

Everyone's eyes were on them. The Principal's posture straightened immediately as she ran a hand over her coiled hair, her voice finding its strength as she cleared her throat. "As you may all know before every Graduation comes the most exciting part of the season. The Trial. We have two bettings; the first is who will win the Trial and the second is which pair of students will earn the Elderstire positions."

All the guest brimmed with excitement at this, bustling with new found energy. Even the kid managed to take her eyes of the wine bottle. Meanwhile, Professor Noirin had began drooling over Professor Jhlor's shoulder. The Principal continued. "The Trial defers every season and of course, for the sake of your entertainment, this will remain as a mystery as well. I assume that most of you had watched the Dome 13, but just in case, I will show a brief compilations of each and every students so that-" She paused when a hand was half-heartedly raised up. "Yes, Sir Bayn?"

"That will be too long. I have proposed this already too many times. Why not just cut the selection to the top 10?" said the man adorned in the lion's mane.

"Oh, come on now you bald rag," Madame Silvia chided as she grabbed for the wine and began pouring every glasses. "Everyone has a chance in the Trial. It's what's makes the betting exciting. And don't you just love a good underdog story?" She wiggled her eyebrow, as she handed out the glasses of wine to the man next to her. "I for one bet on the ID 13."

"Of course, you will." Bayn rolled his eyes, not handing a glass of potato wine to the pouting kid. He rested his stubbled jaw on his palm. "I bet on the scar boy."

"Isn't the ID 13 the missing kid?" Greene questioned in a haughty tone. "Imagine a Trial with a missing participant."

"Greene, I know you're very new here and you are more used to the boorish ways of Dome 1 and 4, but these sort of shenanigans are just what I expected at Dome 13 when a Trial is close," replied Silvia, with a shake in her head. "Dome 13 gives more freedom than most and so, the characters feel so much more real and interesting. There is a substantial reason why getting the ticket for Dome 13 as an Emissioner is one of the most expensive things I've done. I am yet to regret it."

"I know what you mean. Remember last year's Trial?" Brayn said, fondly chuckling. Silvia nodded enthusiastically, almost tipping her wine as she leaned forward. "I got so attached to that year's winners. Sad shame he didn't pick to be a Professor. And that scar boy, ID 86."

"I love ID 86 as well and that pale boy with moles. What a wonderful friendship." Silvia clapped her hands together earnestly.

The man gilded in gold with the diamond ribbon tie, spoke. Looking through the side, Hulner could very much see his sharply sculpted jawline. He had not taken a sip from his wine. Maybe, he had but learned that it was a sip too much. "The last year overall was peak. I like that there's that continuity with the focused characters. It's such a good follow up for this year. Especially since this year's rosters are so impressive. Although," he said with a wince. "The wine is admittedly not."

Silvia, however was swigging on the wine. "Really? You have no taste, Muller. Don't you think it's kind of aesthetic?"

He gave her an extremely concerned look. But the Brayn gentleman seemed to be used to it. "It's been a year but I'm still shocked. Not just because of that Trial's ending but also, I can't believe you're that bold to allow a death that year. I loved last year's battle. And the comradery of group as well too and the fact that they're all still quite connected is still... Wow."

"What?" Greene quirked her head, deep yellowed eyes narrowing. The flapping of her beautiful feathered fan had briefly halted. "Isn't that against the rules?"

"Normally, it is. But, she had a malfunction," Silvia explained, taking sip from the goblet. "Leg malformed from her thigh. Demons don't eat those. I've heard that things like those got fates worse than death... poor girl." She sniffed as she took out her flower-scented handkerchief and dabbed them all over her pink cheeks. Greene rolled her eyes.

"Oh!" Brayn perked up, the beady eyes of the dead lion in his shoulder gleaming blankly at the light of the bulb. "I know. I've watched those demon hosted shows. They're quite exciting as well, Survival of the Fittest, no?"

Silvia waved him off. "Oh dear Florent, I'm afraid it's rather too crude and gory for me. My son does enjoy it. Still, I do appreciate how it gave way to a safe space for demons."

"Ladies, gentlemen, please.." the Principal said through gritted teeth and clenched jaw tapping the table with her knuckles. Her head looked like it would pop by how hard she was smiling. "Please focus at the task at hand."

"Dearie," she crooned, placing a hand over deep copper skin. "There's no need for a compilation of the students. We can bid right now. I bet for ID 13 to win the Trial and for her and ID 86 to win together. If only there are three positions and I would have bet for that mole boy as well."

"ID 86 to win the Trial. ID 86 and ID 0 to win over all. The short blondie is smart but too boring for me," Florent Brayn said confidently. "I'll end your streak this year, Silvia."

Silvia smiled knowingly with a wink. "We shall see, don't we?"

The Principal jerked out of the sudden, knocking her knee against the table. "My apologies," she said stiffly. "There was-I had thought there was a bug crawling."

Everyone stared. Hulner saw Professor Jhlor soundlessly slapping their forehead.

Awkwardly, the girl raised her hand, blowing away her unevenly cropped, tawny brown hair off her eager eyes. "My father said to vote for ID 86 and ID 86 only." Her diminutive panda mask barely revealed the sparkling leaf green eyes beneath. "But, I personally like the ID 2. Her hair is cool."

"ID 0 for the Trial. And ID 67 and ID 0 for Elderstire position," Lady Greene said. The Great Men nonchalantly dropped pouches of coins on their respective sides of the table, each containing three hundred for every wager. The table swallowed all the hefty offerings. The winners will take all.

Finally, one of the pair in the side of the table had spoke. His voice was gruff, grated by sand, his words veiled by an accent. "Both of us. ID 67. Then, ID 67 and ID 2. I also want to foster ID 67." He grunted, his smooth, onyx black mask turning as he faced the Principal. "I've heard that they are in quite a hurry. Will a Fostering still proceed?"

"Oh, I hope so." Silvia's eyes shone at the question and she grabbed the Principal's hand and squeezed. "This takes me back. Remember the times when I fostered you? You were so young and small back then, and..."

"Yes, yes, very lovely times." Her arm and smile was unmoving and frozen but Hulner swore her left eye ticked underneath her mask. "But, I am very unsure if the Fostering will still proceed this year. Of course, if the administration changes their mind, you all will be the first to know." She politely pried out her arm to grab a glass of wine and took a sip. Professor Hulner however, noticed that the level of the liquid did not seem to lessen.

"Anyways, I have more incoming guest this dawn in..." she trailed as she placed down the glass goblet to the table with a soft thump. She snapped her head towards them. "Professor Jhlor, what time is it?"

"Six o'clock," Professor Jhlor lied through their teeth, closing the watch locket as quickly as possible.

"Oh, wow," she said, cheerfully. "This auction had indeed gone too long. I bid you all a good day and thank you for coming in this year's auction." The roof had split open once again, showering the dimly lit room with light. Madame Silvia poured her last wine in her chalice muttering her good-byes.

"Farewell, my dear Undying," she sobbed, wiping snot with her handkerchief. Odd woman.

For the first time this evening, the Principal had graced absolutely no one with a genuine smile stretched across her face. Soon enough the Great Men beyond the Great Walls drifted away as gracefully as they descended, taking the glitters of gold, jewel and wealth along with them. Professor Hulner tore off the adopter in his hands.

The Principal sagged down in obvious relief. "Fasbur, what time is it?"

"Five fifteen. The auction lasted for mere twelve minutes or less, I believe."

"Let's finish this early. I still need to sleep." The Principal sighed as she began to take all the goblets in the table and placed them down to the tray. Her eyes flicked to the snoring drunk. "Does Eugene have more of those beers or did he already drink them all?"

Principal Jhlor shrugged. "I'll check."

"Bring the newbie with you." She pushed the tray into Hulner's hands. "Clean them up. And throw the wine in the trash."

Professor Hulner didn't even get the chance to splutter out a response as gloved hands dragged him away with them. Outside of the door was a cluttered mess of a narrow passage; a splintered tv-screen in a corner, collecting dust, leaning against a ripped, termite ridden cabinet. Hollow window frames, broken mirrors, wrecked chairs and such. At the end of the hallway, an ample, rectangular mirror awaits. Professor Jhlor pressed their handkerchief against their nose, their steps pacing faster. Hulner was right on their tail, the glasses of wine in trail would softly rattle and clink, in each of his every step. He hissed slightly as the wound in his palm mashed against the wood base.

"Ignore her." Their tone was strict but not unkind. "She's simply being obtuse. The auction had made her rather restless." The hand in his forearm dropped as it focused instead on tying up long, silvered hair and taking off the unflattering mask. "How are you holding up?"

"I've been doing well, actually," he replied, beaming. "Most of the kids were lovely and welcoming, well except for those who knows. I ended up coughing fire in my office earlier followed by a giant centipede illusion in my bed.." He chuckled, then abruptly stopped, the smile quickly falling flat as he schooled his expression. "Just small pranks. Nothing of worth of punishments or something. Sir."

Professor Jhlor halted as their head swiveled half-way and Hulner shrank at the perceived side-eye. But instead, they said, "You know, I'm in the mood for walking."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"We should go through the stairs instead," they said resolute.

Professor Hulner clutched the filled tray tighter because while he may flex his six pack abs (if you squint) in the bathroom mirror, carrying it all over an eternity of a staircase would still be a piece of work. "Won't it take too long?"

They clicked their tongue as they waved him off. "It'll be fine. It's rather too early anyways."

"Sure, sir." And so, when they both stood at the end of the hallway, Hulner mournfully gazed at the enchanting glass of the mirror before turning to the corner where an endless spiraling staircase awaited.

Professor Jhlor retrieved a light glyph from his coat pocket and crushed it. Soft light illuminated the steep, cobbled pathway. And of course, there were no railings. Hulner looked at his feet, careful of his every step lest it would fall on a shaky ground and he'd die carrying the world's most insipid wine. The resounding footsteps on cobblestone, the sole sound piercing through the silence.

"You should stand your ground, lad." The voice echoed, finally cutting the jutting silence as steely eyes glanced at the wound on his palm.

"She's my supervisor," Hulner replied.

Now, that was definitely a side eye. Professor Jhlor hummed in a tone of disappointment. "What did you think of the Emissioners?"

He paused. This was a test, he realized and his thumbs fidgeted with the tray's edge. "They were wealthy and did so as they pleased. They have families and are probably well-loved by their community. I am envious of them, sir," he said honestly, because he had a feeling there was no point of lying. He had a feeling that Professor Jhlor bore eyes that recognized liars.

Their voice hardened and burning like molten steel in a resting anvil, steps resounding louder. "So, you accept them?"

"Of course not, sir. I just want a good life. They seem to have that," he answered, mellow but not weak.

"The diamond. Its inside got those rainbow colors as well. It's a fake," the older professor explained patiently. "Lions had been extinct for ages, and if you were to look closely at its eyes, they are simply black beads. Do not be taken so easily." Professor Jhlor shuddered as they continued, "Or at the very least, not in front of the Principal." They glanced back at him, hooked nose and the beginnings of a wrinkling skin showcased by the light glyph. "Are they what you perceived as a good life?"

Hulner shook his head. "No, sir. They can descend and fly with ludicrous clothes. They are freer. I would love to wear a stupid but cool fake lion cape everyday, even at summers, without being laughed at, sir. I am envious of that, sir."

Professor Jhlor opened their mouth and closed it like a confused goldfish, and even briefly paused their ascent to the stairs. They cleared their throat, placidly putting their gloved hands behind their back and walked once again. "If given a chance to get a life like theirs but only if you kill one of them, would you take it?"

"No, sir," Hulner said appalled. "That's against the law."

"Hypothetically, what if it's not?"

"That would be impossible. And I have a moral code." He puffed his chest proudly and his torso bumped the tray he was holding on. A glass tumbled all over the edge and nose-dived to the now unseen ground. It took a few seconds, with the two of them freezing and staring at the spiraling downward abyss, before the echoing shatter reached their ears.

Hulner glanced sheepishly at the older professor. "I'm sorry, sir."

In response, they massage the bridge of their nose and continued their way up to the stairs, ponytail swinging side to side.

Hulner huffed an exhausted breath, beads of sweat now starting to form and fall in the side of his forehead. He looked up, chest heaving, only to see the seemingly infinite staircase spiral into the darkness. The back of his shoulders were beginning to burn, stabbing his joints with stinging ache.

"Is it true, sir?" His voice sounded out of breath. "Did you guys really murder a kid?"

"Would it be a problem if I said yes?" They didn't even bother to turn, simply moving forward.

"Yes. Sir."

"Well, you aren't wrong technically. We have no rights to kill even if the product is malformed. They are the demon's property." Professor Jhlor's word were cautious, analytic. Hulner wondered briefly if there are eyes hidden under the carefully brushed ponytail, watching the simplest flicker of emotions in his face. "To disobey that is to dishonor the Oath, is it not?"

Thin lips pursed into a line and young, smooth face wavered to something hesitant. "Well, yes but I meant-"

"But you meant morally, do you not? If that is the case, don't you think it is better to take things from the root? The people you envy, they are literal slavers." They sneered. "Don't forget what kind of blood you have too."

Hulner flinched at that.

"You said you have a moral code. But, would you? If I asked?" Professor Jhlor spun round on their heels, dreadfully neutral gaze nailing his face. When they opened their mouth once again, it was a flutter of words. The offer came like a smoke, like a night breeze, trapped in this cramped and humid space. He had no response. His silence was response enough.

"Thought so." Professor Jhlor gave him a final piercing gaze before turning away once again. "You have no moral code. You're a simple people's pleaser, Professor Hulner. That's good. You'll survive long. Maybe, you'll even get that life you dream so." Then he strode forward. Always forward.

Hulner's hands flexed, itching to grab something from his pockets. He should report this to the Administration this shouldn't he?

Instead, his hand curled themselves into a fist.

He followed suit just without the poise and grace, all jittery as stumbled his foot over the steps of the stairs. A glass toppled and he lunged for it, clamping it down with his teeth. He grabbed Jhlor's forearm for support, yelping in panic. Nothing fell from the tray much to his relief and he sighed through his nose and slowly dropped the glass in his mouth.

Professor Jhlor flinched, snatching their hand away, eyes blazed in fury. "Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry," Hulner stuttered, shrinking down.

"It's fine," they said stiffly, face steeled into an unreadable expression while their shoulders were guarded, raised in chagrin. "You just shocked me. That's all." It was a lie, that they both knew and Hulner knew better than to try and confront them about it.

There was an icy silence that followed afterwards. Professor Jhlor had their hands clasped together, desperately pulling the black silk gloves to cover their wrists, walking now even more faster.

It didn't take long then.

There's a girl sleeping in the floor of the Principal's Office, bright copper hair peaking out of the blankets. Clothes haphazardly thrown into chairs without any care, trash bins overflowing under a table filled to brim with paperwork. There's a sink in the corner and Hulner tiptoed towards it. Uncleaned pots, spoon, plates and cups slumped on the side like a wonky tower while the scent of something burning wafted through the air. Unperturbed, Hulner proceeded to rinse all the wine glasses carefully. Behind him, awaited Professor Jhlor who opened their watch locket. "I'll get Professor Noirin's beers. Get back through the mirror this time."

"Yes, sir," he said, crushing the soapy sponge laying on the side of the sink.

~°°~

The next Emissioners were demons. Hulner had only seen demons once. And it was when he had to pick whether to die or to go undergo the three years of studying to become a Professor. Even then it was hazy and dim like a feverish nightmare. It had been a quite long time too.

What he remembered the most was the growl. He had never heard a growl until that after all. Unlike the Great Men who boasted their luxuries and their lifestyles like some obnoxious twats, demonkind were more reserved, quiet and almost timid. What he knew was simply this; first, there are classes of demons. Second, that they need to eat. Hulner fidgeted with the hems of his clothes and thought of his best impressionable, approachable, nicest smile possible.

Their entrance were something more familiar, grounded than the earlier visitors. Shadowy forms burst out through a red mirror, bringing along the stench of sulfur and dead flesh.

Grotesque beings that almost look human appeared, speaking in tongues Hulner could only dream of understanding. One had eyes in his ears and his hands, then two more in the sides of his forehead. Sickly pale skin enveloped by a hauntingly beautiful corset suit. Another one had covered themselves in a pristine white veil, revealing only knobbly feet filled with warts and glowing, jeweled-pink eyes. The third had a face of a youthful, handsome man; chiseled face as smooth as marble, sharp nose and arctic eyes complimented by snowy white hair and thick eyebrows. There were baby hands wiggling in the side of his throat that becomes more older and withered as it trailed down from his neck to his stomach, resembling a centipede. He was completely naked and Hulner averted his eyes as he passed by.

However, none could compare the fourth in terms of eye-catching. Towering and almost hitting the roof, a huge hunk of muscles and spikes that tracked from her spine. Hair pooled to the floor, frazzled, smudged by dirt and unimaginably long covering her face completely. She wore a pale red dress that reached to her feet. When Hulner would accidentally catch glimpses of her eyes under messy strands of ebony hair, they'd gleam with bloodlust. The fifth was a hand. A hand seemingly ripped from the elbow with an eye and a mouth.

The sixth looked like a small human. That was until they decided to speak and the entirety of their jawline ripped open to reveal gnarled teeth. The words that came out of their mouth sounded garbled, almost like a quick sessions of shrill shrieks. They smelled like blood and wilting flesh the most. Professor Jhlor advised him not to look at them in the eye as it takes it as aggression. Apparently, they digest their victims outside, slowly sucking them through their skin, they whispered as if an afterthought and not an absolutely horrifying fact.

The seventh answered them, a person with no face, with wings made of fingers sprouting from the back.

The Principal had no trouble of understanding and speaking back to them, all while flashing a tight-lip grin as deadly and as small as a poisoned dagger. He felt awe then. The Principal looked almost as young as him and while recommendations can help in basically speed-blitzing through all the studies, it in no way helps in learning demon tongue.

The screen burst into life, showing moving images of this year's roster. This betting progressed faster than earlier. From what Hulner heard, there is a significant difference between the two Emissioners when it comes to the betting.

While the Great Men would bet for the winner of the Trial and the Elderstire positions, demon Emissioners bet for the product that they want. They bet for each of the top ten which ensured high quality meat, blood and brain. If, of course, the chosen product won the Elderstire position (and if it chose to undergo the torture training. If not, well.. you know the answer for that), all the money given will be sent back accordingly and they will get three, untouched food as compensation. The products who were not chosen would be butchered and sent randomly just like the rest.

ID 0 flashed to the screen, shoulder-length, auburn hair gleaming as it danced to the tempo of the breeze. Calm and rather tired set of eyes that are the hue of ancient lush forests rested behind framed glasses, face poised and unblemished. As expected, none bid for her. No one doubted that she'd win one of the positions.

ID 86 was next. Scars trailed over his face, one running over narrowed eyebrows. He had a roguish charm to him, a sleazy grin etched in his face and his white eyes, unblinking but somehow still having that air of mischief with them. The winged person dropped a bag of coins to the table and remained as the only one who did so.

The table slurped the pouch without warning as the screen flickered to the next. A boy with symmetrical moles under his eyes came to view, smiling nervously. Neat black hair combed backwards, posture uncomfortably straight and blue eyes wide. The table stayed empty.

And so too, in the next, then the next, and the next.

This was when Hulner felt extremely flattered and that maybe, he should actually flex more in the mirror. He was scared shitless when there's a growling behind him as a voice urged for his choice but, now looking back, the fact that it was there in the first place, made him oddly proud. Until, his thoughts trailed and he wondered what would happen exactly if someone like Rycella, whom everyone was so sure that'll get a position and chose to become a Professor, pulled a switcheroo and decide to just say, "Nah, I'd die." There's no way they'd let a high-quality product be wasted away.

Do they just have one of the Emissioners randomly at the disposal?

Now, he felt less flattered and maybe, he should not even look at his reflection this whole week. Hulner' head perked up, his thoughts derailed by a clatter and rising voices as pouches of gold were intensely thrown to the table. ID 67 was now showing through the screen, bright canary hair framing a fierce, stern face.

Everyone was betting, and from what Hulner saw the wager rose from one hundred to four hundred in a span of seconds. His jaw dropped, flabbergasted. The handsome man smirked intensely as his countless hands scrounged four bags and placed it down to the wooden surface of the wood, raising the bet to eight hundred.

The towering demon wailed, hair fervently shaking as her fist curled to the point of spilled blood. She tossed five. There's a disgruntled murmur all over the table and the winged girl shrank and gave up. But the small humanoid unperturbed, legs swinging as they placed seven as a challenge. The veiled one blinked, shadowy hands shrinking in defeat. The contorted hand spewed out a damp sack and it spilled all over, golden coins clinking.

One thousand five hundred offer.

Hulner leaned and whispered to Professor Jhlor, "Does this always happen?"

They shook their head.

The centipede-like demon rose as its striking face rotated, soft curly haired splaying all over his face. Old, withered hands on his stomach tore skin to retrieve a gigantic, bloodied sack. There was a complacent smile that graced those full lips as he said, in deep, croaky voice, "Three thousand."

That settled it. The humanoid one pouted and leaned back to their seat.

The next flashed to the screen, playful face dotted by freckles and acne scars. Deep green hair messily falling over her relaxed shoulders. ID 2. But everyone's wallets were almost empty now. Two bid for her, with this time the humanoid one winning and for the rest, the table remained a clean slate. Hulner stifled a yawn, biting his inner cheeks as the lightening dawn slowly approached.

The auction neared its end when suddenly, one of the demons arose from his seat and lunged for the windows, tearing the curtain. Countless hands gripped the wooden window frames, lolling his beautiful face to the side. "I smelled. Every two round of clock. I thought. Fluke. But no. Kind of yours. Hiding."

He suddenly turned around, gleaming cobalt pinning Hulner's eyes as he snarled, "You. Search."

"I, too as well," said the humanoid smoothly, dark smile framing their face. "Do I get to eat if I find it?"

But the centipede demon growled, saying something that Hulner couldn't comprehend and glared back at Hulner. He choked on his own saliva as he slowly walked towards the window.

The Principal said a response immediately, and he hoped it's on the lines of 'Hey dude, calm down.' However, whatever it was said, it angered the demon. His head rolled suddenly, mouth wide open and Hulner had already regretted thinking that he was in any way, handsome. "You. Doubt?"

"I am not. However, I have full confidence that there is no one in here except us, Evig," the Principal answered.

The humanoid one raised their hands. "I smelled it too. Every two minutes or less. How about you, Emma?"

The giant nodded, her long hair raising and plummeting.

"But," they continued. "It might have just been the breeze going over here. There are hundreds of products sleeping near after all." Their tongue lolled out, licking sharp teeth. Evig grunted, displeased but calmer, his face now reverted to the charming, well-looking young man.

That marked the end of the auction.

~°°~

Rycella woke up alone, cold yet sweaty, covered with three blankets she didn't remember getting. It was already morning. Her vision was hazy, bones heavy, sluggish with an occasional biting pain and the insides of her skin boiling hot. The haphazard mess that was the Principal's room predictably stayed the same, even more illuminated in the daylight. Light wisped through the unwashed window curtains. Rycella had badgered that woman to have it cleaned or atleast replaced but was clearly unsuccessful. The usual excuse was the lack of time which is bullshit because she had seen the Principal make many teas in different and various ways, and had enough time to properly clean all the kinds of kettle she's got. There's a new set of glasses near the bedside, a glass of water and a thermometer. There's bandages and glyphs near her eyes-not the ones for numbing but good old fashioned normal bandages and healing glyphs.

Green eyes flashed as she muttered under her breath, "Did she actually.." She tossed away the blankets and pushed up the sleeve of her uniform. A clumsily taped cotton ball in her upper arm confirmed her suspicions. "That fucking prick."

Seemingly summoned after being called, the Principal barged in carrying a bowl of steaming soup. Her ash gray pants had darkened parts, splattered by water while her white tunic had stains of soot. Her mask was off. She drooped down a knee and placed it near the girl. "You have a cold."

"Yeah, because you shot me with Thalamide." She scowled, eye squinting as the Principal strode to the windows and pushed open the curtains. "It would have been just fine if you just let me heal."

"Oh, please. I thought I had taught you better than to be so reliant and so indulging of your Peculiar," the Principal said with a tone of disappointment as she sat on the floor, legs crossed. "Do I need to remind you exactly the constant and extreme phantom pains you dealt with after going through the Shroud for years? I had to make you atleast three numbing potions so you would stop crying. And that's barely the worst case."

"It's the Shroud." Rycella offered as an explanation, rolling her eyes as she carefully grabbed the steaming bowl and began to blow.

"No," the Principal reprimanded, calmly. "That's what happens when you overuse your Peculiar. Explain me exactly why you have atleast three glyphs and bandages all over you almost everyday?"

"As if you're such a shining, upstanding example."

"Mild fever." Ink stained hand pressed upon her neck. It was deathly cold, like ice. "And dear, I've never asked you to look on me as someone to follow. You have something to live for. I do not."

"Oh, please," Rycella mocked. "You just want me to go through the portal if it ever works since you are too much of a coward."

The Principal smiled blithely as she withdrew her sun-kissed hand. "Well, you're the one who put words in my mouth so I shall assume that you will do that." She faked a gasp, clutching her chest. "How very sweet of you. Now, eat your soup."

"Is that it? Is that and becoming a watchdog the only reasons you've kept me?"

The Principal pressed her lips into a taut, firm line, black eyes flickering away. She flicked her chin, gesturing to the bowl resting in pale, slender hands. "Eat the soup, dear."

Rycella glanced back to the bowl, smoke wafting to her face. She blew it once again and curled her fingers on the waiting spoon. It lacked salt, too watery and has too much peppers. The sad, floating vegetables were not yet cooked-perhaps, put in the pot far too late-but it's warm enough in her throat. The Polar fruit would never make such mistake as it replicates whatever food you perceive. Rycella felt a little pity then. The Principal must have been eating terribly to think that this would qualify as a soup. The Principal who was watching her eat with this weird, expecting face suddenly pouted, posture slouched in a down-trodden manner. Creepy.

"Can you atleast wear your mask?" Rycella grumbled as she put down the empty bowl and wiped the traces of broth in her lips with her sleeve.

The Principal scrunched her face and glared at the floor, looking rather pained like she's the one in fever. In a slow and hesitating manner, she placed a hand atop Rycella's head and ruffled them.

Rycella bristled, not really kin on having a hair version redo of the time when the Principal grabbed her jaw and almost broke it. She waited for the shoe to drop with the expectation that it would simply heal regardless. Instead, the rough hand persevered to be gentle, rummaging unsurely all over dry and frazzled hair strands. This was one of the things Rycella gravelly disliked. Without the Peculiar, the damage of the constant dyeing would be seen. "I've watched you all grow and hoped for the best of you. In a way you all are my children. What kind of parent would not love their children?"

"I beg your pardon." Rycella looked at her incredulously as she got the incentive to shrink away from the touch. "But you've willingly watched your so-called 'children' die on countless times."

"To be willing to see everything in their life including the final glimmers of life in their eyes, I'd argue it's a kind of love." She shrugged as she took the empty bowl and stood. "I wouldn't as be interested to watch a stranger's death."

The redhead arched a brow. "I'm always amazed at how you always one-up yourself when it comes to becoming more derange. You've never even personally talked to them. You think that's love?"

"Of course. What is love if you can't hide it, death if you can't kiss it?"

"That..." The word trailed in her lips. "That doesn't even makes logical sense."

"Maybe not, especially since I just saw that phrase in some book," the Principal argued softly with an open-mouthed laughter. "But if the world worked through the wonders of logic then you wouldn't be here in the first place." Her hand fell to the handle of the door. The door screeched as it opened. "I borrowed Jhlor's conditioner if you're that annoyed with your hair. That man has impeccable hair care."

The Principal ruffled her hair again. A stark silence followed. The bowl laid on the floor, empty.

"Let me see him."

"No," the Principal said gently.

Rycella's face hardened. "Why?"

"Because I know you, Rycella. You're weak," she answered, blunt. "And I know that once you see him, bones and all, you'd change your mind and run."

"I won't."

The Principal intercepted. "You will." She regarded the bespectacled child seriously. "We had a deal and you couldn't do it. That's the thing about you, you let your emotions take a hold of you. You swore to me but just a little talk with Version 190 weakens your resolve. What more if I let you see your brother? I've never forced you to do it despite having the ability to-"

"Yes," Rycella snarled. "And you're such an upstanding person for not taking my free will, isn't it so?"

"No," the Principal spat out. "My point is that we had a deal. I did a miracle, my end of the deal but you,"-she said eyes shining-"couldn't. So, no. You won't see him. Go to sleep, dear."

~°°~