Exvertia—

  those who shine in public using calm they were never born with.

  I breathe in and whisper the word.

  Exvertia.

  That’s who I want to be.

  I don’t want to stay trapped in a cage.

  I want my own light, like Papa and Mama.

  They’re both Exvertias, and Papa promised that when I turn fifteen, on my next birthday, he’ll make me one.

  I’m fourteen now.

  Only a few months left.

  I’ve waited so long that waiting feels normal.

  Waiting for my turn.

  Instead, I was pushed aside, bullied, laughed at, turned into entertainment until Papa appeared at my school and ended everything with money.

  Maybe I was just too naive, too kind.

  My classmates became Exvertias at an age that still doesn’t make sense to me.

  Because I wasn’t one of them, they treated me like dirt.

  That’s how non-Exvertias are seen.

  Some Exvertias pretend to care.

  Sometimes they even help.

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  But I can never tell if that kindness is real, or if it’s just Papa standing behind me.

  Morning comes again, dragging me toward school.

  I’m always lazy, but today feels heavier.

  The only reasons I don’t hate it are Narina.

  My only non-Exvertia friend, and the teachers who looks at me gently.

  Or maybe that gentleness is just Papa’s influence.

  Narina is shy. Quiet. Like me.

  She can’t become an Exvertia.

  Not because she lacks talent, but because her parents lack money.

  In this world, that’s enough to decide everything.

  I wake, sit on the edge of my bed, and step into the hallway.

  Kana should be nearby.

  She always is.

  Kararyna, or Kana, my private maid, the one who does everything Mama never does.

  Mama is always busy, always cold.

  She meets me only twice a year.

  She never touches me.

  They say becoming an Exvertia requires balance.

  That no one is born with it—

  That it must be taught, refined, corrected.

  Papa told me there would be a mentor.

  Training. A procedure. I wouldn’t remember clearly.

  “When you wake up,” he said once, smiling, “you’ll be different.”

  I search the halls for Kana, calling her name softly.

  Servants appear and disappear, pretending not to see me.

  Today, no one answers.

  The building feels hollow.

  I rush back to my room—

  And stop.

  Kana is standing there and mama is beside her.

  I hide behind the corridor wall without thinking.

  When Mama appears, the halls empty, as if fear itself spreads.

  Someone once said her Exvertia aura could crush a person’s spirit.

  And I believe it.

  The coldness in her eyes alone makes it hard to breathe.

  She looks straight toward my hiding place.

  I duck back just in time.

  “Did you see my child peeking from behind that wall just now, Kana?” Mama asks.

  “I didn’t see anyone, ma’am,” Kana replies calmly.

  Footsteps fade. Mama leaves.

  Kana approaches.

  I step out, my face burning.

  “Please don’t do that to your mother,” she says quietly. “What if I get fired? She’s not a bad person. One day, you should become like her—a successful Exvertia.”

  I click my tongue. “I don’t want to be like Mama. She’s mean.”

  Kana sighs. “You’ll understand someday. Now go take a bath. The water’s ready.”

  I step into the bathroom. The door closes.

  And one thought refuses to let go.

  If I wake up as an Exvertia…

  Will I still know which parts of me were ever mine?