Chapter 38: You want me to go Bald?

Chapter 38: You want me to go Bald?

The morning sunlight spilled across the table, pale gold through the kitchen window. The smell of toast and fried eggs lingered in the air, something I had cooked to perfection.

Belle sat across from me, poking at her food with the end of her fork like she was deciding whether to eat it or let it die on its own.

Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, strands escaping in all directions, the picture of someone who could sleep through an earthquake and still somehow look composed afterward.

We ate in an easy, quiet rhythm. The world outside sounded far away; birds, wind, everything felt calm.

Belle took a sip of her tea, then said casually, "You know the entrance exams start in two days, right?"

I looked up. "Do they?"

She gave me a look, a small grin curling at the corner of her mouth. "You forgot, didn’t you?"

"I didn’t forget," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I just don’t see the point."

"The point," she echoed, resting her chin on her palm. "Of taking the exam that decides whether you even get in?"

I shrugged. "I mean, is there really a need? Let’s be honest — I’m going to be first place anyway."

She blinked once, then started laughing, soft and melodic, like I’d just said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. "Wow," she said, shaking her head. "You’re actually serious."

"Of course I’m serious."

Belle grinned, her smile sharp with mischief. "You really do love yourself, huh?"

"I prefer confident," I said, smirking.

"Confident, cocky, hopelessly delusional..." She waved her fork dismissively. "Close enough."

I leaned forward. "You sound jealous."

"Jealous?" She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Mmm... maybe. It must be nice having an ego big enough to block sunlight."

I laughed. "You’re just scared I’ll make the rest of the students look bad."

"Please." Belle gave an exaggerated sigh and set her fork down. "Fine then, Mr. Future First Place, let’s make it interesting."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

"If you don’t

I stared at her. "...Bald?"

"As in smooth. Reflective. Like a holy relic."

"You’re joking."

"I never joke about art." She pointed her fork at me like a weapon. "You lose, the hair goes. All of it."

I groaned. "You realize my hair is the seventh best thing about me, right?"

"That’s what makes this fun."

I set my fork down slowly, feigning deep thought. "Fine. But if I do win, you owe me one favor. Anything I want. No matter how stupid it may be."

I could feel her blindfolded eyes narrow, though she was still smiling. "Dangerous terms, Sebastian."

"You started it."

She leaned across the table and offered her hand. "Deal?"

"Deal." I took her hand, the shake firm but warm.

Her grin widened just slightly. "You’re going to regret this."

"Doubt it."

For a second, it felt light, just two people trading challenges over breakfast, nothing heavy or sharp beneath the surface. Then the warmth in my chest went cold.

A voice slid into my head, smooth and low, dripping with amusement.

{You seem awfully relaxed, Sebastian.}

I froze. The sound was unmistakable.

{Go to your room,} Bastard murmured. {The egg is waking up.}

My pulse jumped.

"Sebastian?" Belle asked, her tone shifting. "What’s wrong?"

"...Nothing," I said quickly, pushing my chair back. "Just remembered something."

Before she could say another word, I stood and headed for the hall, the air around me suddenly too still.

The egg is waking up.

I pushed my chair back and stood, plate still half-full. Belle called something after me, but I barely heard it. The echo of Bastard’s voice had already started scratching at the back of my skull.

I left the kitchen, heading down the hall.

’You’ve been quiet since yesterday,’ I thought. ’Where were you during the duel? You missed quite the show.’

{Show?}

’Don’t pretend you didn’t see it. I was winning. One-sidedly. I practically turned Onecent into fertilizer out there.’

{Ah, yes. A masterpiece of violence. I weep for having missed such art.}

’You should. It was beautiful. He didn’t even land a hit.’

{I was busy.}

I blinked. ’Busy? With what, watching paint dry?’

{Making sure the egg didn’t wake up while you were playing gladiator.}

That made me stop. My foot hung mid-step. ’Wait. What do you mean by "wake up"? You knew it was that close?’

{Sebastian, please. Don’t tell me this is a revelation for you.}

’How the hell would you even know that?’

{Because it’s inside you, you genius.}

His voice dropped, low and edged with that sarcastic amusement that made me want to hit something.

{The egg is fused to your soul. And since I happen to be living rent-free in the same miserable space, I can feel it too. You’d know that if you ever used that brain for something other than inflating your ego.}

I scowled. ’So you’re saying—’

{That when it moves, I feel it. When it sleeps, I know. When it stirs, I make sure it doesn’t do something catastrophically stupid while you’re too busy enjoying your own reflection.}

I paused. My tongue clicked against my teeth. ’...Okay, first of all, I don’t enjoy my own reflection.’

{Lies. You were practically sparkling after the duel.}

’I was radiant,’ I corrected, deadpan.

{You were sweaty and grinning like an idiot.}

I rubbed at my face, sighing. ’You’re really going to ruin my victory high like this?’

{Consider it character development. Now, stop arguing with me and go sit down. It’s stirring again.}

That last line came quieter, heavier somehow. The kind of tone Bastard rarely used, serious, almost careful.

’In my soul?’ I asked.

{Where else? You think I meant the breakfast table? Go on. Sit. Focus.}

I hesitated but obeyed, shutting the door behind me and sitting cross-legged on the bed. The air felt thick like pressure building behind invisible glass. My heartbeat had its own echo, resonating faintly in the hollow space of my chest.

’It’s moving,’ I whispered.

{I told you. It’s been restless since the duel. Something about all that mana you threw around probably reached it.}

I closed my eyes. The inside of my head felt like an ocean in a storm, colors and shapes shifting under the surface. And there, somewhere in the depths of that vast, internal dark, I saw it: the faint, pulsing glow of the egg.

It wasn’t just sitting there. It was breathing.

Slow. Steady. Alive.

A soft tremor rippled through my chest, and Bastard’s voice came again, quieter this time, as if even he was watching.

{...It’s close. Closer than I thought. When this happens, you’ll need to feed it. Carefully. Too much mana and it’ll tear through you from the inside. Too little, and it’ll starve.}

I swallowed, watching the glow pulse again behind my eyes.

’And if I mess it up?’

{Then you die, obviously.}

’Comforting.’

{You’re welcome.}

The glow pulsed again, stronger this time, like it had heard us.A faint warmth spread through my chest, slow at first, then steady, rhythmic. My mana stirred in response, threads of it unraveling without permission, drawn toward that presence inside me.

’It’s... pulling,’ I murmured.

{Good. That means it recognizes you. Or it’s trying to eat you. Fifty-fifty chance, really.}

’You’re terrible at reassurance.’

{You keep expecting it. That’s on you.}

The warmth deepened, spreading through my ribs, curling low in my gut, heavy, alive. The egg’s glow flickered once, then again, each pulse syncing perfectly with my heartbeat until I couldn’t tell which belonged to me anymore.

I exhaled slowly. The sound of my breath felt wrong, echoing through a space that wasn’t my own body. Somewhere inside that pulse, something shifted, something vast and patient and waiting.

’It’s... awake,’ I whispered.

For once, Bastard didn’t have a quip ready.

Just a low murmur, almost thoughtful.

{Then it begins.}