Matthew sat slouched on the edge of his bed, the dorm room dim except for the pale rectangle of moonlight spilling in from the half-open curtains. His textbooks lay scattered across the desk untouched. The air smelled faintly of dust and the bitter coffee he had left cold hours ago.

A sharp knock echoed from the door.

"Who is it?" Matthew's voice was flat, eyes still fixed on the floor.

No answer. Only silence, and then another knock.

He pushed himself up with a sigh, padding over to the door. The wooden floor creaked beneath his bare feet. When he opened it, a tall shadow filled the doorway.

Professor Lok stood there, coat draped over his shoulders like a shroud. His sharp eyes flicked past Matthew into the room before settling back on him.

"Teacher… what are you doing here?" Matthew's brow furrowed.

Lok's voice was smooth, almost casual. "I heard you've had… trouble."

Matthew gave a bitter laugh. "What? Are you going to scold me too?"

Another lecture… another adult telling me what a disappointment I am.

But Lok's lips curved slightly not in amusement, but in something colder. "No, no… I'm not here to scold you." His gaze sharpened, as if weighing Matthew's worth. "I'm here to give you an opportunity."

Matthew blinked. "An… opportunity?"

Lok stepped into the room without waiting for permission, the faint scent of rain clinging to his coat. He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

"Yes," he said, pacing slowly. "An opportunity to take revenge… against them."

Matthew's breath caught. His mind flashed with the jeering faces from earlier, the quiet judgment in their eyes, the whispers that clung to him like smoke.

Revenge… against them?

He studied Lok's expression calm, deliberate, unreadable. It was the face of someone who already knew Matthew's answer.

"What… exactly are you offering?" Matthew's voice was low now, cautious.

Lok stopped pacing, turning to face him fully. "The kind of power you won't find in any training hall. The kind of power that makes people… regret ever crossing you."

Matthew's heart pounded. He could almost hear his father's voice again:

(Prove yourself worthy… or be nothing.)

His fingers curled into fists. "And what will it cost me?"

Lok's smile deepened slow, knowing. "Everything… or nothing at all. That depends on how far you're willing to go."

Lok took a step closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper. "You've felt it before, haven't you? That heat in your chest… that pull when your anger peaks. The part of you that doesn't want to stop."

Matthew swallowed. (He's talking about… that night...)

Lok's eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. "That's not weakness, Matthew. That's strength you've been told to hide. I can teach you to use it."

"And if I… can't control it?" Matthew asked, his voice sharper now.

"Control is overrated," Lok said with a faint shrug. "Restraint is for the people who fear themselves. I'm offering you a way to become someone people fear instead."

A cold shiver ran down Matthew's spine. (Fear instead of respect… is that really power?)

Lok leaned in slightly, his presence heavy. "You've been stepped on, ignored, treated like you don't matter. How long before you decide that they should matter less than you?"

The room felt smaller. The shadows along the walls seemed to lean closer.

Matthew's jaw tightened. (He's… right. They never cared. Why should I?)

Lok reached into his coat and pulled out a small, black cloth pouch. It was tied shut with a crimson cord. "When you're ready," he said, placing it on Matthew's desk. "Open this. You'll know what to do."

Matthew stared at it. Something inside pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.

"What is it?"

Lok smiled not kindly, not cruelly. "A key. But remember… every door you open changes you."

With that, he turned and left, the click of the door echoing in the stillness.

Matthew sat back on his bed, eyes locked on the pouch. His hand twitched toward it… then away.

Every door you open changes you.

The moonlight seemed dimmer now.

After a moment, he reached for the pouch and loosened the crimson cord. A faint warmth seeped into his fingertips. Inside, resting in the black cloth like a jewel, was a small, metallic object a smooth, dark seal etched with intricate spiral markings. They seemed to shift ever so slightly when he looked too long.

"What… is this exactly?" he murmured, holding it up. The seal felt heavier than it should, as though it carried more than just its weight.

It's just a key, he told himself. Nothing more.

But in the quiet, the seal's surface seemed to pulse slow, deliberate like it was breathing.

Unbeknownst to Matthew, this was no ordinary artifact. Hidden within its spiraled engravings was a Void-influenced Vein Seal, a relic that fed on the negative emotions of its wielder. The more hatred, anger, and resentment it absorbed, the stronger the Shinrei it granted and the deeper its corruption burrowed.

For now, Matthew only felt a strange heat in his palm.

He set it back in the pouch and pushed it away.

Yet… his gaze kept drifting back to it.

…

Meanwhile Khael Corzedar sat alone in his dorm room, the faint hum of the ceiling fan barely cutting through the heavy summer night. The desk lamp cast a narrow cone of light, leaving most of the room in shadow. His textbooks lay open but untouched, the pages curling slightly in the humid air.

His gaze wasn't on the paper. It was on the memory.

(I remember the manga too well…)

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the wooden armrest. Outside, somewhere in the distance, the faint laughter of other students drifted up from the courtyard distant, careless. A stark contrast to the storm in his head.

(I knew that Matthew Lomwel would die… and his brother, Caishin Lomwel, would turn into a villain.)

The images came unbidden — Caishin's face, cold and sharp as a blade, his eyes burning with something darker than rage. And the tragedy that followed.

He tried to kill Andromeda Ban in the later arc… and so many people died in that tragedy arc.

He swallowed, his throat dry. Even now, he could still see the end of that arc — the chaos, the flames, the broken bodies. And most of all, the moment Andromeda fell.

(Andromeda died in that arc…)

His hand curled into a fist on the desk. That scene had burned itself into his mind when he first read it but what gnawed at him was not the ending itself.

It was the gaps.

(What really happened? What caused all of this? Why did Caishin's hatred grow toward Andromeda? And why did Andromeda kill Matthew?)

He exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowing.

(It wasn't explained in the manga… tsk.)

The shadows in his dorm seemed to stretch as the thought settled in. Somewhere, deep in the story's unwritten corners, there was a truth, one that had never been shown to the reader.

And Khael intended to find it.

To be continue