CHAPTER 53: ATTENDING A SEMINAR 2

The last thing I need is more trouble. Her seeing me spells trouble in so many ways.

I rush into the building and down the hallway.

Safari is standing exactly where I left her.

The nice time-freeze girl is leaning on a wall and fumbling with her nails.

I slow down.

She looks up as I approach and smiles. For someone with such a power, she smiles a lot.

"That was quick". She says, looking down at her quartz watch.

I look at mine as well. I have a minute to spare.

"You didn’t write it down?"

I shake my head.

"I’ve got a good memory". I say and tap the side of my head coyly.

"I should probably return things to their normal pace".

"You should".

I turn to look at her with great difficulty.

"Thanks".

A blush creeps into her cheeks, but she waves it off.

"Don’t mention it. I love to help people out".

I nod at her before turning my attention back to the door.

If I had her power, I might have been able to save Arya. I would have been able to slow time long enough to have gotten her and Clara out of there.

"What’s your name?" I ask.

She blushes again.

"Don’t bother. You clearly don’t like people. You don’t have to make an exception for me - you don’t owe me anything".

"I’m not making an exception, I just want to know your name. Mine is Karim".

She squeezes her hands together weirdly before looking up at me.

"Morrow. Morrow Lasmark".

Morrow? I raise a brow.

"It’s alright. I get that reaction a lot. I come from a long line of time manipulators. My father wanted to give me a name that depicted that. It’s okay if you think it’s funny. Not everyone gets named the short version of ’tomorrow’".

I immediately feel bad for my reaction. I think of something to say to lift the atmosphere.

I decide to say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Your name is weird, I won’t say it’s not. But, I think it kind of describes you. It makes you unique and intriguing - which in my opinion, should be the point of names".

Her eyes soften and her posture relaxes.

I hit the right mark. That’s a first.

I walk up to the door and call out my Reg number weirdly.

There is a brief hesitation before the oak vibrates and the double doors open to admit me.

Finally!

I heave a deep sigh.

The door closes behind me.

I look around the auditorium. The place is packed with students. A few people cast backward glances at me, but quickly return to their conversations.

The drapes have been drawn to expose the stained floor-to-ceiling Georgian windows. Dusty light filters into the room. The image in the glass panes is that of a woman reaching out her arm to reach something unknown to me.

I can only imagine what the painter had been thinking when he made it.

Her eyes seem to follow you, pricking you at the back of your neck.

The stage is a raised platform stretched under the windows, gleaming with a glass pulpit and velvet cushions, too pristine for students like us to belong there. No microphone or wiring is visible - which is odd.

I walk down an aisle and squeeze past a few people to reach the seat marked 405. The paper I was given indicates my seat number.

I unfold the seat and sink into it.

I pull out the foldable mini-desk and drop my things on it.

The person sitting beside me is a chubby guy with a plump face and small eyes.

He nods at me and returns to his conversation with the guy beside him.

Safari squeezes past and settles down beside me.

She keeps mumbling an apology as she tries not to bump into my knees and outstretched legs.

Morrow passes shortly after, looking a bit glum.

All I can smell is intoxicating cologne and hair spray.

The last girl squeezes through and settles beside Morrow. That should be the last of us.

I turn my attention forward, trying to find Furuno in the crowd.

I can’t see him, or maybe, I just don’t know if I’ve seen him.

Mrs. Val walks down the aisle and ascends the steps to the stage.

The entire place becomes so silent that I can hear the echo of her heels against the polished floors.

Not even a whisper. One can feel the weight of the silence.

She stops in front of the pulpit and sets her voluminous book, that she had been holding against her bosom, down with loud thud.

She looks up, scanning the room over the rim of her spectacles. Her hawk eyes skim over everyone until they finally rest on me.

She opens the book and slams it down.

"Let us discuss something outside of the seminar’s topic". She says.

Her voice is audible to me - who is sitting at the back - and she isn’t even shouting.

Is this some sort of voice amplication magic?

"Let’s discuss the concept of time".

Her eyes rest on mine again as she adjusts her spectacles.

This is no longer a coincidence. She definitely saw me.

I gulp.

The air-conditioned room suddenly feels overheated.

She breaks the eye contact and reads something from her book.

When she looks up again, her eyes rest on Morrow, the time-freeze girl that saved my ass even when I had been rude to her.

Mrs. Val clears her throat sophisticatedly - the usual ’ahem’ meant to guide all straying minds to the topic being discussed.

"Let me tell a story, shall I?" She pauses to scan the completely bored crowd of students.

Her mouth is still pressed into a thin line.

What would it take to get her to smile? Is she even married? If she is, I can only hope the husband is as mean as she is, or worse. A kind or gentle soul would be crushed within a few weeks of enduring her cold stares and grim presence.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

"The story is about a girl who abused her privilege to control time".

She seems to be waiting for some form of enthusiasm from the crowd.

There is none, however.

When she sees it is not forthcoming, she continues, undeterred.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl named Persephone. She was able to control and manipulate time - as elusive and abstract as it was".

She stops and grimaces, like she just ate a whole plate of spoiled eels.

"Persephone had been warned about the dangers of turning back the hands of time to suit her selfish endeavours, but she never heeded any of the wise warnings. She continued to bend time, distorting the illusion of balance it created".

Her voice is dripping with malice and contempt. And all of it, or maybe, some of it is directed at me and Morrow.

"One day", she continues, "Persephone stopped time. A void had been created. Everything was at a stand still. When everything returned to normal, nothing was the same. People’s memories were all mixed up. Timelines had changed. She had distorted time. That was when she recalled the wise words of her mentors. She broke down and wept. After thus, Persephone swore never to manipulate time again. Shortly after, she died and was buried. Then, time returned to normal. The end".

No one claps. The silence stretches with animosity.

That was one hell of a story. I know it is aimed at Morrow and I, ironically, but I can’t seem to exactly align her chilling story with what actually happened.

I lean sideways to look at Morrow. Her face is very pale.

Her terrified expression reminds me that the situation is worse than I think.

Morrow is going to end up in trouble for helping an oaf like me.

I ball my hands into fists.

"Any questions?" She finally asks.

No one raises a hand. I can even spot a few people dosing off.

"Since there are no questions, I assume that my message has been conveyed effectively". Her voice is strained and angry.

She is probably upset by the disinterest all the students are showing her.

In my opinion, it could be a lot worse. But she should be grateful that they all fear her.

Except one person.

He is the only one sitting in the 17th row in the centre. No one is sitting in front of him, neither is anyone sitting behind him.

He is just folding his arms across his chest and watching the proceedings like a chess player, studying the board and trying to decide his next move.

"Without further ado, I will proceed to the topic of the seminar. No guest speakers would be joining us as the elected staff are attending a board meeting."

Suddenly, she freezes.

Her eyes take on a wild look. She swats something invisible on her face.

She slaps her neck and looks down at her hand. I don’t see anything around her.

Then, her mouth opens in shock as she looks at something beyond us.

She starts running away, taking the stage steps two at a time, all the while flailing her hands in the air.

"Bees! Bees! Take them away! Make them go away!" She keeps screaming as she rushes along the aisle.

I watch, amused.

The composed and bitter woman, now the screaming maniac.

I don’t get to see this everyday.

She reaches the oak double doors and starts pounding against it.

The doors finally slide open and she runs out screaming, swatting imaginary bees.

Laughter erupts immediately she disappears behind the door. Everyone starts talking about it.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. The chubby guy beside me is vibrating with laughter.

Then, Spatial Domain turns on his seat and stares at something behind.

I follow his gaze.

He is looking directly at Morrow.

Now it all makes sense.

He did it.

But why?