Facing Myself

I leaned back and stared at the stone beams; even though it was inside the garden, I could sense a gentle breeze around me. The scent of the garden flowers drifted in with every breath I took. For a moment, it felt almost peaceful. Almost.

Until the weight of Liora's gaze still lingered—those fierce sparks weren't magic at all, but something deeper, harder to grasp. I didn't know how long I sat there, staring at the mark in the stone floor where her sparks had failed to chain.

It wasn't until I looked at the bottom, where there was a shadow in front of me, that I lifted my head. A figure stood in front of me. A boy this time, in a black robe uniform, with white short hair, his white hair fell in a curtain over one eye, and he had skin as pale as snow, which made me wonder whether it was a boy or a girl. He was shorter than Liora, which I assumed meant he was younger than her. His uncovered eye met mine, calm but unblinking.

"Sir Alaric?" he said. His voice was soft, careful, yet certain, like he already knew the answer.

I stretched out my body out of old habit. "Yes?"

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the scorch marks behind me before returning to my face. There was no fear in his eyes. Just curiosity, but was that good curiosity or the bad one? And something was colder beneath it.

"You were supposed to come to the classroom, sir. I waited."

As I heard his voice, it was so cold, different from his appearance, as if the world had no choice but to bend his truth and his word.

"I see," I said, "And you are?"

He tilted his head slightly, "Caleb."

"Caleb…Caleb…and?"

He tilted his head more, making his bangs shift just enough to glimpse both eyes—white, pale, steady.

"Seraphine," he said, staring straight into mine.

Those eyes, calm as a winter lake, dead calm, but deep enough to drown. I held his stare for a moment. Then I rose, brushing dust from my robe.

"Very well, Caleb…" I said, my voice seemed to steady, though I wasn't. "Let's go back."

He nodded once, as if it were the only correct answer. He turned, expecting me to follow him. We stepped out of the pavilion and out of the garden. For a while, we walked side by side, or rather, I followed behind him. He didn't rush. His steps were precise and measured, like he'd already walked this path a thousand times.

As we were walking, we came to a bridge. I was amazed by a straight span of pale stone that connected two wings of the building. It rose high above a courtyard below. A bridge inside a building, wow… As we were inside the other wing of the building. It became different from the previous one. It became more lively. I could see the students roaming around. However, there was one question: why did all the students wear white robes, and Caleb, in front of me, wear a black robe?

Caleb didn't pause his walking. Some turned their eyes to me and Caleb. The robes we wore are in such contrast to them. When we stepped into a long corridor. We came to a door, heavy oak, iron banded. After I took some steps into that door, I didn't see any students anymore; there were no white-robed students anymore. As Caleb's steps didn't echo. Mine did. It made the silence feel deeper somehow.

He didn't look back at me until we reached in front of another door. The wooden door seemed to be the classroom's door. He opened it. I followed him inside, feeling a sense of unease as I realised we were the only ones in the room. I looked around the room. The desks were arranged not like a typical high school, where each student had one desk. No separate seats, no individual chairs. Instead, each row was a long, continuous bench built of wood, lined neatly with a single stretch of desk in front. It reminded me of old college lecture halls. The classroom's space felt more like a courtroom than a place for learning.

The windows were tall, letting in a thin wash of grey light. The chalkboard at the front looked well-used. A lingering smell of chalk dust filled the air. At the front of the chalkboard stood a raised wooden podium. It felt less like a teacher's stand and more like a judge in front of the courtroom.

Caleb walked to the front row and sat without needing to be told. As I walked to the podium, I remained standing. There were no other students. No whisper, just me and him.

Just silence…

…

..

.

The silence finally broke as Caleb started to open his mouth with his head slightly tilting, "Is there something wrong, sir?"

Clearing my throat, I said, "Where are the others?"

"The others?" His head tilted further, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "What others?" His smirk grew wider, making me feel a sense of unease.

What was that smirk for? Mocking? Amusing? Or what? It was knowing.

I tried to control myself and asked more softly, "I mean, where is the other stud—?"

"Students?" He cut it with his calm and eerie tone, not just cutting my sentence; he cut the atmosphere of the classroom. Suddenly, I felt it. The classroom was quiet, but something in the air shifted. Colder. "What do you mean by 'other students', sir?" His face, his tone, and his posture were like a robot's. Disappointed. Measured. Calculating.

His stare felt like the weight of the world, unblinking like a monster. I tried to regain my composure, but his intense gaze made it difficult to focus. "Does a classroom have more students?"

"Do you think I need other students?" There was no tone in that question, just purely… It made me shiver. I didn't answer right away.

I cleared my throat, "Is a class always more stud—"

"Again, sir, do you think I need other students?"

The atmosphere was changed again. I felt dreadful and heavy. This kid in front of me wasn't just a normal kid. It felt—it felt—it felt—I was facing myself but younger. Sharper. More dangerous. Back then, I used to say those same kinds of things to my student. Did you think you were special? Did you think I needed you? As I believed, the students were the ones who needed a teacher, not the teacher who needed students.

However, hearing it spoken back to me, I didn't know anything. What was this feeling?

"Does Sir Alaric believe that I, in my state, in my talent, need other students?"

What was that supposed to mean? A statement waiting to be confirmed.

I opened my mouth, the words clumsy in my throat, "A student needed their peers to grow. To clash, to fail, to learn toge—" Before I finished my sentence, I looked at him; Caleb didn't blink. It felt—I faced a monstrous reflection from perfect, terrifying stillness.

"Hah?" He frowned; finally, he showed an emotion, but… It made it worse. His frown seemed like a disappointment to me. "If you thought students needed their peers to grow. To clash, to fail, to learn together." His expression changed; he showed a smirk again with a flat tone, "Then tell me! Why should I drag dead weight? Why should I let them hinder me?" His stare created a chill down my spine, as if I were facing an apex predator.

This boy was different. The tone. The posture. The stare. It felt like he was a different breed. I had said those exact words once to my student, especially to the top class… Why should you slow down? The strong rose alone. Focused on yourself. A truth only the exceptional could afford. Now… Hearing it from a boy and a student felt different. It sounded monstrous. It made me like the incompetent one.

I didn't know how to guide him, or I didn't even know if I could.

He tilted his head again, "So, Sir Alaric… Was I wrong?"

Was I wrong, huh? Those words, I always said to my students. The past me would say, No, you weren't wrong to him right now. However, I needed to change his view about that.

I tried to open my mouth in this dense atmosphere, as in front of me was not just Caleb, but the younger version of me. "What makes you say that, Caleb?" I needed to approach this situation carefully; I was the incompetent one in here, so he could easily dismiss my words.

"Huh?" Caleb looked at me with a mix of confusion and defiance in his eyes. "This robe! A proof!" He raised his voice slightly, "They gave me this robe because I'm not like them."

Not like them? What did that mean?

…

Did that mean he has talent or genius, or even a prodigy?

"Do you know what the black robe means, Sir Alaric?"

He finally stood up. I could feel the weight of the room as he stood up.

"It means I am different. I am not required to be compared. To be taught in the same way. It means I am…" He walked slowly down to me. As he was in front of me, his blank stare penetrated my thoughts. "Exempt…" He continued with his head tilted and his hair uncovered, his eyes staring with a pale white stare, "I don't need a classmate to trip over or to wait for. I don't need to clash because I will win. I don't fail because I always correct. I don't learn together because I have surpassed them. So why do I need them?"

That was why, in the hallway before, I could see other students wearing white robes; even Liora wore white robes. However, Caleb wore a black robe. It meant he was different.

"Tell me, Sir," he continued. Calmly, "If the others were here, what would I gain?"

I didn't stand a chance in front of him. I had been eaten alive by him. At first, asking him, Where were the others?, he knew it. I was the incompetent one in here. I couldn't open my mouth…

He continued to corner me, "The wind said good things about you and even praised you, yet the reality was different." He frowned, and now I could see the disappointment in his eyes. "First, you have failed to come to the classroom on time. Second, you made me wait in here for a long time. Third, you were hanging around in the garden…" He took one step towards me, and that step cut everything. "Last, in the garden, you seemed to teach another student; as I analysed it, you taught the white-robed student." He smirked and walked towards the door.

As I couldn't say anything in my defence, I realised that his perception of me was already set.

In front of the door, he stopped; he didn't turn around. "If you want to teach white robe students, a class of students, then rather teach me, the exempt one. I can arrange that; I will inform the board."

His hand reached the handle. "I won't be insulted in this class by you." The door creaked open. "Good day, and the class is dismissed, Sir Alaric." And just like that, he was gone.

A boy who didn't just remind me of my past. He was my past. Sharper. Purer. And infinitely more dangerous…

…

..

.

As I walked back to my room, a room where I first realised I was being reincarnated. In front of that room, I could see a box and an envelope on top of it. I took it and brought it inside the room.

Inside the room, I took a seat and opened the envelope first. It contained a letter about my demotion.

Effective immediately, Sir Alaric Mordane will be relieved from lecturing exempt-class student Caleb Seraphine as requested by the student. A new arrangement will be proposed. Sir Alaric Modrane will be expected tomorrow for formal reassignment.

I was being demoted; it was the first time in my life that I had been demoted. It was shock and disappointment. Caleb Seraphine's words weren't a warning but a direct request for a teacher change.

I opened the box, and it was the white robe…