Felix brewed a cup of peach tea with a dusting of cinnamon. It was his favourite. He sipped and let out a long breath, one that felt like it came from an old man. Sitting at the small table beside his bed and the only window in his room, he opened the book.

"THE ART OF BEING A BARD"

That was it. No author. No publisher. No dedications. The first three pages were blank on both sides. The fourth page was where the story began.

This sucks. How am I supposed to do this without a staff? A magician without a staff is like a tiger without teeth. Everyone else has one. And just because I don't have 'noble blood,' I can't even use one. Not that I could afford it anyway.

"Tim, to be great, you don't need a tool. A great magician can make a tool out of anything. Everything around you is magic. And a bard doesn't need a staff. All you need is your mana and the will to create a muse."

He always said the same thing. How can I do it? My wind spells aren't even accurate without a staff. Controlling sound? Ha. Impossible. Easy for him to say, with talent handed down by the heavens and a family to boot. As for me, all I hear are whispers no one else can hear. And it's not angels singing. It's the devil's shouting.

Felix stopped reading after ten pages. Walking around the town had tired him. The bed called to him more than the secrets of the book.

I will finish it in the morning, sleep comes first.

He crept undo the bed and snuggled his pillow. But some things in the book made him question things.

The author, "Tim," mostly complained about how unfair the world was. How it was against him, and everyone else was too, except for one person—the "he" Tim always referred to. Probably his mentor.

But Felix had picked up two things so far. First, a bard was a class of magicians, and their magic involved sound. What those sounds could do that, he didn't know yet, but it excited him. After all, he too used sound and vibrations, when he fought.

And the second thing that caught his attention was this line:

"All I can do is hear whispers that nobody else hears. And it's not angels singing, but devils shouting."

Devils shouting. It seemed familiar. No—it was exactly what Felix experienced. Except he didn't hear them; he saw them.

Tim had the same curse as Felix. But how? Felix didn't know. He was clueless about how he'd been cursed in the first place. Though it wasn't a coincidence he chose this book. Maybe the book chose him. Work of fate or strings of devils—that, Felix had to figure out. On his own. For now, he just wanted a good night's sleep.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So, have you decided on your Circle?" Lim asked. He took his usual spot on the forest floor. Felix sat nearby, taking the bacon out of his sandwich.

"No," Felix said, tossing the bacon onto Lim's lunch.

They didn't speak. Felix enjoyed the bacon-less sandwich. Lim felt the silence. Awkwardness hung between them, at least for him.

That night, when Lim turned his back and walked away, he felt weak. He always had been. But this was different, like he was 15 again, the boy who couldn't care less about anyone but himself. The weak boy that forced a smile to keep the bully from beating him.

Yes, what he saw that night had been shocking. But leaving Felix behind was never the answer. He was already fighting a battle that wasn't his. If only Lim had talked, maybe—just maybe—the whole thing could have been solved that night. But because of him, the ghost still lurked.

"I—I'm sorry for not—"

Before Lim could finish, Felix handed him the book.

Lim looked at the title.

"The Art of Being a Bard?" Lim raised an eyebrow. "Wait—a bard? Why does a spearman like you want to be a bard?"

Felix was surprised by that answer.

"I picked it up on a whim. I don't even know what a bard is. Most people in this world don't either."

Lim nodded slowly. Bard. It could be a lost art or be rare and insignificant that no one cares anymore.

"Bards are a common trope in fantasy books," Lim said. "At least where I'm from. They're what you'd call supporters in a team. Their melodies can enhance the powers of their allies. It can even heal. The best ones, though—they can stir emotions. Make you feel things you didn't even know were there."

Felix nodded, taking it in. That was good information.

"Well, the other thing," Felix continued, "the one who wrote this—he seems to have the same curse as I do. Just on the hearing side of things. You know, like hearing ghosts or demons."

Lim nodded again. This was more than just a book. It was a treasure. The source of a forgotten power. And the author—cursed, like Felix.

"Maybe this book has a cure for your curse," Lim said. "Have you finished reading it?"

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Felix shook his head. "No."

"Why not? The faster you finish, the more secrets you could unlock."

Lim was right. It would be better to read it all the way through. But Felix sighed.

"That was my plan. I tried to finish it this morning, but there's nothing past the fifteenth page. There is the first path to becoming a bard. If I complete it maybe the rest will appear."

"I see." Lim passed the book back. Silence crept into the forest again.

"The ghost," Felix said suddenly.

Lim flinched. The ghost and the half-eaten body flashed in his mind. Felix noticed the reaction. It was normal.

"I plan to go into the forest," Felix said.

"N-no."

It took courage for Lim to say that.

"I can't. The truth is—I don't know how to handle it. I'm not strong. My legs shake just thinking about it. And as the author, I'm ashamed to admit I'm not in control. I am clueless. But you're not going in there alone."

"Who said I'm fighting it?" Felix asked.

"Huh? Then what?"

"All I'm doing is luring it. You're the one killing it."

Felix watched as Lim's face paled. Lim gulped, his throat drier than a desert.

"But—"

"No buts," Felix cut him off. "We have no choice. It's after us. And if we don't deal with it, it'll find someone else. Maybe one of the students. And someone's life will be gone, just because we hesitated."

"Why not ask for help? You know we're just students, right?"

Lim tried to chuckle, but it came out awkward. Felix's eyes narrowed, disappointment clear.

"You know why we can't," Felix said. "Fear shouldn't cloud your judgment, Lim. Either you come to the forest tomorrow night, or you'll find my half-eaten body in the ghost's mouth. Your choice."

Felix stood and walked away. Lim didn't stop him. His courage was long gone. That creature had taken it.

Lim sighed deeply and looked up at the sky.

"I just want to watch Cat Girls," he muttered.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Was I too harsh? Felix thought as he walked. No. Don't regret it. It was necessary. We don't have time for him to come out of his shell to crawl back in when things go south. He has to face it. Now or never.

Felix made his way to the training chambers. Every Star had one; it was the perfect place for him to try new techniques without prying eyes.

Felix opened the door to his chamber, his mana print triggering the lock, and stepped inside. Just as the doors were about to close, he felt a gust of wind sweep past him.

"You've been training a lot lately," a voice called from behind.

Felix didn't turn around. "And you've become quite the stalker."

A familiar whistle echoed through the chamber as Rose slipped in, her face dangerously close to his. Too close, like always.

"The door was open for too long. It seemed like an invitation to me."

It wasn't even open for a second.

Felix gave her a thin smile. "Now I ask you to leave."

He gestured to the door, but Rose shook her head, ignoring the hint.

"The training chamber they give us is too big and the public ones are too crowded. It feels lonely, okay? What's the harm in us training together?"

Felix sighed, already exhausted by her games. She wasn't someone who craved company, not in the way she made it seem.

"You're the problem," he said bluntly. "So leave."

But Rose merely walked to a corner of the chamber, planted her sword on the ground, and sat with a pout. "Do what you can to kick me out."

Felix shook his head and sighed again. "Suit yourself."

He sat on the floor, his back to her, and pulled out the book.

Okay, all I have to do is create a sound using my mana. Then, within a beat, amplify it. Try to make music, a harmony that heals the heart. Haa... What does that even mean?*

Felix frowned. The text was vague like it expected him to fill in the blanks. He, like the author Tim, would have to figure it out alone. No guidance, no mentor. Just trial and error.

My elective piano classes might come in handy for once.

He had never thought his quiet hobby would amount to anything. But now, in this chamber, it seemed to have some relevance.

He walked over to the weapons shelf and pulled out a sword. Rose, watching him from the other side of the room, narrowed her eyes. He could tell. She wasn't here to train.

She doesn't intend to train, does she?

Felix knew why, why she was interested in him.

He didn't train. Once he hit his limit, he stopped. The cursed mana in his veins kept him from growing stronger, and no amount of effort had ever been enough to overcome it. So he trained lightly to change the only thing he could, reduce the time it took to create vibrations. An hour or so a day, nowhere near the intensity of the other students.

Felix stood in the centre of the room and closed his eyes, gripping the spear. He struck it against the ground, the sound ringing through the chamber. He wanted to control that sound—the sharp, metallic *Tang*—and mould it.

In his mind, he imagined standing in a pool of still water. Every strike on the ground produced ripples in the lake. He needed those ripples to create a tone, something akin to a G-major on a piano. To him, the G-major chord felt calm, and healing—a comfort he desperately wanted to recreate.

But each attempt failed. It sounded more like a hammer driving a nail, harsh and jarring. Maybe some people could find comfort in that, but not Felix.

He repeated the motion over a hundred times, failing every time. He stopped, breathing heavily, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Rose sat beside him now, tilting her head.

"Are you testing the quality of the floor? I assure you, it can handle a B-ranked spell," she teased.

"It's something else," Felix replied, the irritation clear in his voice.

Rose's eyes drifted down to the horizontal scar on his abdomen, exposed as he wiped his brow.

"Does that still hurt?" she asked softly.

"No," Felix said, his voice flat. "It never really did... but for the first seven days, it felt like someone was ripping me apart, bit by bit, with a dull knife."

Rose didn't respond. She couldn't relate to that kind of pain, and she wasn't asking about the physical wound. She knew that the source and cause of pain often lingered long after the wound itself healed.

Without another word, Rose stood and left. The door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss. Felix hadn't even noticed her leave, too deep in his failed attempts to control the sound. When he finally opened his eyes, the guilt started creeping in.

Maybe she had something to say, he thought. I should've talked to her and asked her what she wanted.

But then again, Rose was different. She wasn't like the others. There was something strange about her, something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't her demeanour, nor was it her actions—it was her face. Unlike the others, who bore their scars and imperfections, hers was blank, like an untouched canvas. A canvas he had always wanted to paint, but never dared to approach. Fear held him back.

Fear of ruining it. Fear of turning something empty into something worse. Something no one would want to look at.

Felix sat down again and stared at the floor. He could feel the weight of his curse bearing down on him, stifling every inch of progress he tried to make. Rose's presence had stirred something in him—a mixture of frustration and self-doubt that gnawed at the back of his mind.

Why do I push people away? he wondered. Why do I avoid the ones who care, the ones who try to understand?

Out of everyone, Rose always approached him. No matter what he said to push her away, she talked with a smile.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and returned to his training. There was still so much to figure out. So much left to learn about the sound, the harmony, and the magic he was trying to create. And about Rose too.

He would figure it out.

Alone.

As always.