The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee coaxed Felix out of unconsciousness, but the pounding in his skull made him regret waking at all. A low groan escaped his lips as he stirred, his body aching with a dull, residual pain that sank deep into his muscles. He blinked slowly, vision bleary from the gre of sunlight streaming through half-closed blinds. Raising a trembling hand, he shielded his eyes and took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

  He was sprawled on the floor of an office—his back pressed against the cold edge of a heavy desk, his legs twisted awkwardly on the scratchy blue carpet. The smell of bitter roast lingered in the air, clinging to the sterile chill of the room like a warning. Something about the pce—its silence, its stillness—felt calcuted. Purposeful.

  A voice, smooth and razor-sharp, broke the quiet.

  “Good morning. You’re up earlier than I expected.”

  Felix’s breath hitched. That voice was unmistakable—velvety, cold, and clinical. He turned his head with effort, spotting the man seated in the sleek bck office chair just a few feet away.

  Vincent.

  He sat with perfect posture, one leg crossed over the other, his cape draped elegantly over one shoulder like a monarch’s robe. His white uniform—fwless, crisp, marked by a single bold stripe of dark violet—glowed in the golden light of morning. Medium-length blue hair framed his angur face, and his violet eyes gleamed with unsettling crity, studying Felix like a test subject under gss.

  “How long…?” Felix croaked, wincing as he tried to push himself upright.

  Vincent didn’t move. He merely leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.

  “A few hours,” he replied calmly. “Had I not retrieved you and Jasper when I did, the local authorities would’ve found you in that alley—unconscious, exposed, and bleeding magical residue everywhere. That would’ve been problematic. I can’t afford any more incidents linked to my name.”

  Felix grimaced, leaning heavily on one elbow. His limbs felt like stone, weighed down by the backsh of the light magic he’d used. A faint, pulsing current of golden light flickered beneath his skin—raw, unstable. It was a miracle he was alive.

  “You pushed your channels beyond regution,” Vincent added casually. “That strain… it will take days to wear off completely.”

  “No kidding,” Felix muttered, teeth gritted. “I feel like someone poured molten iron through my veins.”

  “An accurate analogy,” Vincent said, almost pleased.

  With a smooth motion, he reached for his mug and held it out. “Here. It’s fresh.”

  Felix eyed the cup, suspicious. Vincent wasn’t known for his hospitality unless it served a rger purpose. But the heat radiating from the porcein was inviting, and his throat burned for something warm. Slowly, he reached out, only to curse under his breath at how slow his hand moved.

  Without a word, Vincent leaned forward and wrapped Felix’s fingers around the cup, holding them there for a moment. His hands were startlingly hot—far warmer than the mug itself. The gesture should’ve been comforting. Instead, it felt like restraint.

  Felix forced a smirk, despite the chill that crawled down his spine.

  “If you wanted to hold my hand, Vincent,” he rasped, “you could’ve just asked.”

  Vincent’s face soured, and the moment shattered. He pulled his hand back with a sharp motion, his tone icy.

  “I’d advise against testing my patience. You know what happened to the st assistant who mistook my tolerance for affection.”

  Felix tensed. Everyone in Mystica knew the rumors—the previous second assistant’s unexpined disappearance, the blood-stained cloak that had been quietly incinerated, the way no one dared ask Vincent questions afterward. The second assistant position had been eliminated altogether.

  Now, there was only Felix.

  And some nights… he wasn’t sure why he was still breathing.

  He muttered a quick, “Thanks,” before taking a cautious sip from the cup. It was strong, dark, bitter. Just like everything else here.

  Vincent turned his attention back to his desk, flipping open a bck leather-bound notebook filled with angur, unreadable handwriting. “I may require your help ter,” he said coolly.

  Felix frowned. “With what?”

  Vincent leaned back again, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Keeping an eye on the subject. The anomaly. I have… pns. But they’re not ready yet. Until then, rest. I need you operating at full capacity.”

  Felix exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment. The warmth of the coffee and the sun made him want to colpse again. But Vincent’s next words snapped him back.

  “Before you drift off, let’s talk about two nights ago.”

  Felix opened one eye.

  “You were close,” Vincent said, voice casual—but his eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  Felix sat in silence for a few moments, repying the chaos in the alley. The wind. The screaming. The girl.

  “There was someone else,” he said finally. “A girl. Not Renley. She came out of nowhere. Her powers manifested mid-conflict. Wind magic—strong wind magic. I think she awakened for the first time right in front of us.”

  Vincent’s gaze sharpened. “Untrained, and yet she managed to disrupt the operation?”

  Felix nodded.

  “And her magic,” Vincent murmured, “wasn't typical. It didn’t feel… dirty. No corruption. No strain. It was clean.”

  “Pure,” Felix confirmed. “Unnaturally so.”

  Vincent paused, then stood. He walked around the desk and stood behind Felix, hands folded neatly behind his back.

  “She’s not an ordinary unknown. Maybe not even an unknown at all.”

  “Then what is she?”

  Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “I intend to find out.”

  Felix swallowed. “You think it’s spirit magic?”

  “Possibly. The purity matches what we’ve seen from spiritual lineages. Could be a bloodline relic. Could be a dormant connection.”

  He began pacing slowly behind Felix, speaking more to himself now.

  “Unknowns awaken under pressure, yes. Fear, trauma, genetic triggers—all predictable. But hers awakened te. Half an hour after initial exposure. That isn’t natural.”

  Felix rubbed his eyes. “So what… she’s not a normal unknown?”

  “No,” Vincent said sharply. “And that’s why I’m watching her. She’s either a fluke… or something we’ve missed.”

  Felix hesitated, then asked, “Your powers… you use two elements. How does that happen?”

  Silence.

  Vincent stopped walking.

  The air in the room seemed to still.

  “That,” he said without turning around, “is not your concern.”

  Felix dropped it immediately.

  Vincent moved back to his desk and recimed his chair. He didn’t speak again. The conversation was over.

  Felix sipped his coffee in silence, his mind spinning.

  He didn’t know who Macaria really was—or what secrets were buried in her wind. But he could feel it.

  She was a storm waiting to break.

  And Vincent… Vincent wanted to be the one standing in its eye.