Superior

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Aisa

Raiker wasn't going to give me a break.

He was taking his job very seriously. I mean, I knew that as my tour guide and mentor for the year, he would be helping me with whatever I needed, but I didn't expect him to be so... committed.

For example, knocking on my door at nine in the morning asking me if I wanted to go to study hall with him. Of course, I had said yes; I needed some help anyway. But for someone who seemed to not even remotely care what others thought of him, he was putting in an awful lot of effort to help me. We both knew about each other's father's, and neither of us cared much. It couldn't have been to be in a good position with the daughter of his father's enemy. It couldn't have been to keep his reputation; it was clear that was quite unimportant to him too. And it couldn't be completely because he wanted to make my year easier. So what was it? He must have had a motive. Which I intended to find out.

With these sort of thoughts swirling through my brain, I was finding it extremely difficult to focus in study hall. Raiker and I were sitting next to each other at one of the enormous, circular, ornate tables (as Raiker had helpfully pointed out) in the long hallway filled with students. It was surprisingly quiet today; probably because the opening gala results were on everybody's minds. They were on mine for sure. Raiker seemed to be completely unconcerned, his eyes scanning his textbook almost mindlessly. I wondered if anything was even registering in his brain.

I, on the other hand, was attempting to understand dining arrangements/ makeup bases, but failing miserably. Mostly due to the fact that a certain someone was sitting in the table right next to mine and Raiker's, studiously ignoring me as he quietly whispered to his other friends. Ignoring him was my only option. But it was so difficult to do. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, or how he was doing, but I couldn't bring myself to turn to him and open my mouth. Was this how life worked? Could people you've known forever go from spilling their secrets to you to refusing to acknowledge your presence in a matter of days? I didn't think so.

I blinked my eyes, forcing myself to snap out of it. I had to focus right now. I couldn't be worrying about Zander. Besides, there was someone else I had to figure out.

I glanced up at Raiker. He seemed to be lost in his own world, but not completely focused. It was the perfect time to ask him.

I slid my textbook over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Raiker? Could you help me with this problem? I'm afraid I don't even remotely understand it."

Raiker looked over my shoulder at my textbook, smirking slightly as he read the question. "I guess that could be challenging. As your mentor and tour guide, I will take upon the challenge of getting you to understand this."

I sighed, about to roll my eyes when I realized the perfect opportunity to ask him about his motive had just popped up. "Raiker, though your my tour guide and mentor, you don't necessarily have to make it your mission to help me with every single thing, you know. I can handle myself sometimes."

He raised his eyebrow, the slight smirk still there. "So what are you saying? Do you not want my wonderful assistance?"

I couldn't beat around the bush any longer. "Why are you helping me so much?"

He leaned back in his chair, the smirk gone and replaced with a half smile as he studied me with his bright hazel eyes. "What if I just like to spend time with you?"

I froze, my mind momentarily stopping, trying to register the words he had just spoken. Although I was getting better at hiding my embarrassment from him, I was certain my face had at least turned a light pink. The most annoying part was he was still giving me that endearing half-smile of his; probably waiting to see how I would react. I set my lips into a confident smile, opening my mouth to give him a response much like his own, when suddenly, a loud voice cut through the almost pin-drop silence in the room.

"Mark Belington, please come with us immediately."

I whirled around and saw the voice came from a tall, burly man with perfectly slicked back brown hair and piercing ice blue eyes which were currently pin-pointed at a skinny boy in the corner of the room, who was gazing back anxiously.

He stood shakily, his voice surprisingly steady as he asked, "Yes, sir?"

The man pulled a file out of his briefcase and scanned it, his eyes crinkling. "According to your professors, you have not performed adequately at the Opening Gala, and have not acted as a proper Superior should, hence, your removal from this Superiot will begin immediately."

A collective gasp echoed throughout the room, and a few heads turned Mark's way, but no one dared to make eye contact with him, as if it would get them kicked out too. Zander was smiling smugly but subtle, sneaking in whispers to his friends as the boy stood blank-faced, as if he hadn't quite understood what was happening.

"What did I do wrong?" he sputtered out, his eyes widening as the man advanced towards him, two others in tow.

He stalked forward and grabbed the boy roughly by his shoulders. "That's something you should figure out for yourself."

"No-wait-please," Mark pleaded as he was dragged out of study hall. "Please! Maybe I can fix it!"

"There's no time. You should have thought about that before you performed so poorly at the gala." There was no remorse in the man's voice; it was monotonous, as if he were just stating plain facts.

Mark opened his mouth to say something again, but the man interrupted. "Leave quietly or we shall take you by force." His mouth closed quickly, and his whole posture slumped, as if he'd already given up.

The only sound in the entire room was the sound of his spotless shoes squeaking on the equally polished floor as he was dragged out of the room.

The room was silent for a few moments after he left, and then it broke into hushed whispers. In some ways, it was even worse than flat out screaming. Some were gossiping, developing theories about what might happen to him next, some disgusted, and some happy. Zander was one of the latter, I could tell, based on the snippets of his conversation I kept hearing.

"He deserved it....to perform so badly at the first big event of the year. He had it coming for him." I turned away, my mind whirling. Did he? Did he deserve it? Or was it unfair? Did I agree with Zander? I rubbed my head, thinking. How could so many people of the same caste feel so many different emotions over the same thing? Once it came to law, I thought all Superiors would feel the same.

I thought wrong, then.

I glanced at Raiker, hoping that we could put the topic aside. I didn't want to think about Mark's heartbroken expression or Zander's words anymore. I just wanted to get my homework over with. But Raiker was silently scowling at his book, his hands clenched in tight fists under the table.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, so quietly that no one but I could hear. "Making such big decisions on a stupid gala full of fake people, faking their emotions just for a grade. The whole bunch of them are fake, nothing but robots or little dolls following the commands practically drilled into their brains." He was practically seething.

I lowered my head, not sure if he expected me to respond or if he wanted to rant to himself. But at that moment, something in my mind clicked into place, like the last piece of an unfinished puzzle. It was surprising, but it was true.

It wasn't Zander I agreed with.

It was Raiker.