Chapter 19: The Night After (Part 2 of 2)

  What Everyone Else Knows

  Morning hurt more than night. Laurent realized this the moment he tried to sit up. His body resisted—not sharply, not violently, but with a dense, unified protest that made him pause and breathe through his nose before moving again. Every major muscle complained. Smaller ones joined in late, as if they had remembered something important after the fact.

  Around him, the dormitory woke slowly. Someone swore when their feet touched the floor. Another laughed weakly, then stopped when the laugh pulled at something tender.

  “This is stupid,” Cael muttered. “I can’t even straighten my back.”

  “You can,” Seris replied from the next bed. “Just not fast.”

  Laurent swung his legs down and stood carefully. The stiffness was worse than forest mornings, worse than load days on stone streets. It felt like his body had been taken apart and reassembled slightly wrong.

  He watched the others move. Some grimaced—but loosened faster. A few stretched deliberately, breath slow, eyes half-closed. Aila rolled her shoulders, winced once, then exhaled as if something eased. Laurent waited for that moment. It didn’t come.

  They gathered for a light morning meal—bread, something warm and thin that passed for soup. Conversation stayed low, practical, orbiting soreness and speculation.

  “I swear my legs were shaking yesterday,” Cael said. “But this morning’s better.”

  “Essence circulation,” Seris said. “If you do it right.”

  Laurent paused mid-bite. “Do what?” The table quieted—not abruptly, just enough to notice.

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  Aila looked at him. “You didn’t circulate?”

  Laurent hesitated. “I don’t… know how.”

  There it was.

  Eren blinked. “Wait. You didn’t use a method at all?”

  Laurent shook his head. “I wasn’t taught one.”

  For a second, no one spoke. Then Cael laughed—short, incredulous. “You’re serious?”

  Laurent nodded, heat creeping up his neck.

  “You’re academy intake,” Seris said slowly. “Law Bound.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t know basic circulation?”

  “No.”

  Aila leaned back, studying him properly now. “That explains a lot.”

  “Explains what?” Laurent asked.

  “Why you looked half-dead last night,” Cael said. “You weren’t recovering at all.”

  “And why you’re still stiff,” Eren added. “You’re just letting essence pass through you.”

  Laurent frowned. “Pass through?”

  Aila nodded. “Unconsciously. Everyone does it at first. Children. Animals. Common folk.”

  Cael tilted his head. “But you’re worse than most.”

  That one landed. Laurent looked down at his hands. “I worked as a cleaner. Then as a gatherer.”

  “Oh,” Eren said, the edge softened. “That explains why no one corrected you.”

  “But still,” Seris added, not unkindly, “you’re weaker than most farmers right now.”

  Laurent swallowed. He didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

  Aila set her bowl aside. “Alright. Sit.”

  He did.

  “Essence absorption isn’t the skill,” she said. “That happens on its own. What matters is direction.” She gestured toward his chest. “You’re not guiding anything. You’re just… existing in it.”

  She demonstrated slowly—breath first, then intent. Not forcing. Not pulling. Just shaping a path.

  Laurent tried. Nothing happened.

  “Too tense,” Aila said. “Stop trying to do it.”

  He adjusted. Breathed. Something shifted. Not relief. Not comfort. Movement. Essence stirred—not slipping past him unnoticed, but catching, looping clumsily where she’d indicated. The ache in his legs dulled a fraction. Just enough to feel unreal.

  His breath caught.

  “There,” Aila said. “That’s it. Badly. But it’s there.”

  It still took hours of conscious effort to reproduce even that clumsy loop, and he lost it more often than he kept it.

  Seris nodded. “You’ve been starving yourself without knowing it.”

  Cael snorted. “No wonder Mr. Irel marked you low efficiency.”

  Laurent exhaled, slow and shaky. No wonder. No wonder the test had barely reacted. No wonder his body felt like it was always lagging behind everyone else’s. He wasn’t broken. He hadn’t failed. He’d simply never been taught the first thing everyone else took for granted.

  When they stood to head back toward the training grounds, Laurent still hurt—but something fundamental had changed. Not strength. Not confidence. Understanding. And this time, it wasn’t borrowed.