Page 279 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

I bowed my head in deference as I passed him.

He narrowed his eyes.

I winked, and he wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled something bad.

He was secretly obsessed with me. I could tell.

Unfortunately, my momentary god complex didn’t last long.

It never did.

Ten minutes later I sat at the breakfast table, debating whether I should try to kill the kings and eat my heart before the slave brand saved our lives.

I didn’t want to participate in another competition.

I picked at my lip, made a small ball out of the pile of dried skin, and put it in my pocket. You never know when you might need to make some money.

John made bad jokes while I came up with a business plan. It didn’t matter that I was technically rich, it was about having an entrepreneurial spirit.

I picked harder.

John smacked my hand away from my lip.

He was probably poor. He didn’t understand the hustler lifestyle.

My knee shook under the table.

All the windows in the hall were boarded up, so everything was cast in darkness.

It didn’t help.

Across the table, shadows caressed the kings. High cheekbones, sharp jawlines, and sunken cheeks stood out in stark relief.

They looked like the devils they were.

CREAK. WHISTLE.

I dug my nails into flesh and made a concerted effort to not look up at the arched ceiling.

Students tipped their heads back and gawked.

No one spoke.

Even the mutilated man on the tree didn’t gurgle like usual.

CREEEEEEAAAAAAAK.

I jolted in my seat.

The rafters moaned as winds battered against them, and plates and glasses clattered.

Looked like all the rumors had finally come to fruition.

The storm had started.

I finally understood what all the gossip was about. The noises outside the academy were furious. Punishing. Terrifying.

This was no normal storm.

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