This whole day, I truly understood for the first time what it meant to be mentally exhausted--there was no issue with physical activity, but I lacked the desire to drive my body. Obviously, retracting my consciousness circle was also something that drained my spirit. When the training ended, Qana was a bit surprised that I managed to maintain this state for so long. The small acknowledgment from the swordsmanship master made me feel somewhat elated.

Because of this, Qana allowed me to use my "psychic" to clean and dry myself.

"'Psychic'." I said softly, savoring the vibration of the word in my mouth. Yesterday, I still knew nothing about my almost supernatural abilities. Today, I knew what to call this power. It felt... interesting. Having a name to call it made it seem less mysterious, abstract, and distant, and more like something real and tangible, easier to understand and control. It felt like a part of me.

Without extending my consciousness, I thought about the power contained in a name--the process of naming it and the final understood appellation--while using the consciousness circle around my body to expel the water clinging to my fur.

I tried to speak decisively, to utter my own name, but the only sound was the uncontrollable trembling of my jaw and a broken low growl from my throat.

I punched the white tiles of the shower wall, letting the pain from my knuckles pull me out of my thoughts.

Exhaustion can effectively shorten the time it takes to fall asleep but does nothing to help with a night full of dreams.

"... What about a name?" an old, tired voice asked.

"How could he have one? He's just a mutt!" a voice replied indignantly.

"Then according to the rules..." the old voice sighed helplessly.

The sound of suppressed sobbing, calling out into the endless void hoping for any response, but only receiving endless confusion, without any definite answer...

I suddenly opened my eyes, sat up in bed, and realized that these were not my own feelings, even though the overwhelming loneliness resonated with a familiar deep feeling in my chest.

It was a vibration, a... searching vibration. Qana had taught me how to differentiate between types of vibrations, and vaguely, I could feel that almost inaudible... call. The call was weak but definite, calling to any willing to listen.

I scanned the room, perked my ears, and evaluated various physiological indicators, concluding that everyone else was still sleeping soundly. I got out of bed quietly and left the room on tiptoe.

In the pitch-dark corridor, the faint ripple continued to pull me. I didn't dare to disobey Qana's orders, so I didn't extend my consciousness. I continued to search for the source of the pulse, judging the direction from the changes in its strength.

The vibration itself was very weak, so the changes in strength were not obvious. I often had to walk quite a distance before realizing I was going in the wrong direction. But gradually, I discovered that the center of the pulse seemed to be in a place very familiar to me.

After passing through the shower room, I confirmed that whoever was sending out the searching vibration was on the balcony.

The bright light reflecting off the snow piles took me a moment to adjust to, so I didn't notice him immediately.

"What are you doing here?" I turned sharply towards the source of the voice, just in time to see Piqsirpoq stand up, wipe his face a few times, and look at me with cold eyes.

I didn't know what to say, but the moment I opened my mouth, I noticed he was completely naked, with wet fur clinging to his skin, making his muscular lines stand out in the bright moonlight.

Completely exposed.

I felt the hot blood rush to my ears and immediately turned away, convinced that if I hesitated even a second, my ears would actually catch fire.

Say something, say anything! I cleared my throat, but even the sound of that cough was awkward, and I still didn't know what to say.

"I asked you, what are you doing?" Piqsirpoq grabbed my collar and brought his snout close to my face, his hot breath hitting my face.

Oh, Rationalism witness, he was so close, too close, and how was he so wet! He's your brother, he's your brother, your blood relative, you share the same father but different mothers... No, that doesn't help at all! Think about how he's ignored you all these years, never considered you important... But he stood up for me--no, now is not the time to think about that!

In despair, I wanted to scream. Piqsirpoq's scent at this close distance clearly evoked some distant warm memories. No, no, don't think about that!

I suppressed all the rising emotions, feeling a tingling at the ends of my limbs. I abruptly turned my head away, hoping that not directly inhaling his scent might help a little. My eyes darted around, pleading to focus on anything else.

When I saw the clothes drying rack, I immediately understood why Piqsirpoq was now standing naked on the balcony. Also, those strange rumors about him waking up in the middle of the night to go to some mysterious place. Or why he always ate the same meals in the cafeteria for years.

How could I have been so blind? Shouldn't I be the one who understands the most?

With our chests pressed against each other, our heartbeats resonated within our chests.

"Drying rack," I murmured, feeling a bit of dryness in my throat.

"What?" he still said angrily, his brows furrowed tightly.

"Did you make the drying rack?" I swallowed and tried to speak in a calm tone, flattening my ears and adopting a submissive posture.

"The 'drying rack'?" He followed my gaze, possibly understanding what I was talking about. Qana had explained many things to me today. "Yes, I put it together from scraps in the storeroom." He turned his gaze back to me, pressing down his right ear with a puzzled expression.

A strong sense of guilt welled up, and I could feel a sting in my nose.

"You only have one set of clothes left?" I asked, looking directly into Piqsirpoq's eyes.

"No, I just wanted to take a thorough moonbath, I heard it's good for your health," he said with obvious sarcasm.

"At first, occasionally, only the color would change, or the buttons and pockets would disappear." I kept my tone calm, not wanting to sink into negative memories. "But sometimes the style of clothes put in would be completely different when taken out, and a few times my clothes were directly disassembled, not even leaving a fiber." Piqsirpoq's heartbeat slowly calmed down, and he began to listen seriously. "But I didn't know how to explain this to anyone, so I had to start hand-washing my clothes and then waiting for them to dry every morning."

Piqsirpoq didn't speak for a moment, staring straight into my eyes as if searching for any sign that I was mocking him.

"I always believed someone was playing a prank on me, constantly trying to catch the culprit." He finally spoke, his body slightly relaxing. "I only gave up when I had just one set of clothes left, forcing me to get up in the middle of the night to wash them." He lightly snorted through his nose. "I was seen a few times, which is probably the origin of those strange rumors."

"So you can't use meditation to let your body and soul rest separately?" I asked, and Piqsirpoq glared at me, clearly not appreciating my attempt to break the awkward atmosphere.

"The cafeteria's food synthesizer." His pupils slightly contracted, seeming to understand something. "You never managed to order what you wanted to eat, right?"

"That's a bit of an understatement," I said realistically. "But after all, it's just energy, shoving it in your mouth isn't that difficult."

Piqsirpoq let go of my collar, stepped back, and looked me up and down. His icy blue eyes revealed a certain... sadness?

"Jupiter's flight." He sighed softly. "This would create a flavorless porridge, but at least it wouldn't be some horrifying abomination." He shivered, and I didn't want to know what the worst thing Piqsirpoq had ever eaten was.

"Qana said..." I wasn't sure about the exact scope of the sword master's prohibition, but this was Piqsirpoq, my... suffering half-blood brother. "... Machines with decomposition and recombination functions always malfunction near powerful psychics. The stronger the psychic, the more obvious it is."

"A psychic?" Piqsirpoq tilted his head, it seemed his training hadn't covered this.

Stolen novel; please report.

Although Qana hadn't said it directly, I could guess that teaching me about such things was likely forbidden. I glanced at the drying rack again and made a decision.

I didn't extend my consciousness--I didn't dare--instead, I placed my hand on Piqsirpoq's shoulder, feeling the ripple of his consciousness domain.

Piqsirpoq looked at my hand in confusion, raising one eyebrow.

His consciousness domain was also very strong, although the basic state occupied a smaller space, almost clinging to the skin, the clear pulses still declared the power of its owner--and our consciousness waves were even quite similar. I adjusted my ripple frequency until our consciousnesses resonated.

I reached out to him, extending a part of my consciousness to make contact with his.

Piqsirpoq shuddered violently, his eyes widening, his dilated pupils filled with astonishment, his blue eyes fixed on me, his jaw slightly open, but he didn't pull back.

Our consciousnesses resonated at the same frequency. I could feel my own awareness like a stream of energy flowing over his skin. Now, our circles of consciousness were one.

I gently exerted my will, separating the liquid from the soaked fur, starting from the tail, until all the water collected along our fur, converging at my hand touching his shoulder. From there, it flowed to the fingertips of my other hand, forming a water ball. Piqsirpoq maintained his look of surprise, watching me throw the water ball off the balcony, disappearing from sight.

For a moment, aside from the sound of liquid hitting the snow and the occasional gust of wind, there was no other sound. The bright moonlight even caught the finest hairs at the ends of our fur, and the gentle, lazy frequency of the cold wind made our shadows sway lightly.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Piqsirpoq finally seemed to come to his senses, accepting what had just happened.

"Basically, since I can remember," I replied. "But usually, I only control the water on myself. This is the first time I've tried to dry someone else."

"This world is crazy." Piqsirpoq snorted through his nose, walked to the edge of the balcony, and flicked his tail to the left. "So, what, am I also a... 'psychic'?" he asked, waving his right hand dismissively.

"Probably." I answered cautiously. "Only strong enough psychic can emit a searching vibration." Qana hadn't explained it clearly, but had mentioned that not every psychic could control waves; the weakest could only passively sense them.

"So, you not only kicked my ass in swordsmanship despite being three years younger than me with three years less practice and experience," he leaned on the balcony with his elbows, pressing his hands to his temples, "but you also have this... psychic ability," he hesitated over the word. "You've been able to do it since you can remember..." Piqsirpoq raised his right hand, waving his wrist aimlessly in the air. "Whatever 'it' is."

I listened quietly, guessing where this might be headed. I started to understand why Qana said he hoped we could understand each other.

"They said I was very talented and had high expectations." Piqsirpoq laughed bitterly twice. "Bullshit." He spat the curse, looking up at the moon.

The wind picked up slightly, making Piqsirpoq's ears and tail tip sway gently, and a tear fell from his blue eyes.

"Who lets a child take care of another child?" Piqsirpoq's tone was so familiar, it was like listening to my own monologue. "Why... do I have to try so hard to gain recognition, as if I have no value if I'm not exceptional enough to be used by others?" The sparkling tear fell from the tip of his fur, glistening in the moonlight. "This world is broken."

Piqsirpoq clenched his fists and hit the edge of the balcony, knocking some snow off.

"The royal family basically can't directly interfere with the nine Grand Duchy, and a bigger question is, why is it a feudal system?" He showed his fangs and asked angrily. "Interbreeding between faction is prohibited to protect the 'purity of the strain.'" Piqsirpoq growled through gritted teeth. "Yeah, the purity of the strain, as a means to control the nine Grand Duchy?" He laughed bitterly. "The Senate is the largest pimping business in the Empire!"

Like my brother, I was full of questions about these things. But I knew I couldn't stay in the pack, so I never cared, only treating the knowledge as tools and power, which were my chips to leave far away. How the Canine Empire turned out had nothing to do with me.

But I never thought, as someone who wanted to be accepted, to recognize and belong to the pack, clearly understanding these bizarre things yet having to endure them, what kind of pain it would be.

That's probably why it all suddenly exploded. How long had Piqsirpoq been running out at night, curling up in a corner, and sobbing quietly? Why hadn't anyone noticed? Why had I never noticed?

I only knew that I had no parents, but I never realized that Piqsirpoq had also lost his father. And I didn't even know when he lost his mother. I only thought of myself.

"Screw the Selection, Snow can eat my shit!" He started sobbing, his voice heavy with nasal sound. "Everything is meaningless, it's all a game, a show to provide the biggest bread and most extravagant circus to those poor souls, half-awake in a drunken stupor, tormented by a hangover!" Piqsirpoq wiped his eyes and laughed. "The Senate, ha, really meaningful."

I wasn't sure I fully understood what Piqsirpoq was saying. I listened carefully to the history master's lectures, so I knew about the feudal system of the Canine Empire, and what bread and circuses were. But my indifference to the whole environment made me like an outsider--as I really was an outsider--I had no interest in understanding more, it would never be my world, and I was never treated as one of them.

But Piqsirpoq's appearance still pained me. I couldn't explain this feeling, we were really not familiar. I could only guess that I was actually hurting for myself.

"Why does the inheritance law exclude females, eugenics prohibit any unnatural conception, and what's with the eyebrows... in the name of Rationalism, none of this makes any sense!" He clawed at his head with both hands, pulling his hair.

"Uh, eyebrows?" I wasn't sure why eyebrows were grouped with all these things.

"Yes, eyebrows in the asshole of Rationalism!" Piqsirpoq turned his head, pointing at his eyebrows. "Didn't you notice, the body language of wolves never uses eyebrows, not a single one? All eyebrow-related emotional expressions rely solely on the eyebrows, but dogs aren't like that!"

"I've never seen any dogs..." I could only murmur in response, as Piqsirpoq stood too close again, forcing me to focus on his eyebrows.

"Never mind, none of it matters." Piqsirpoq said, his body slumping. "I hate this senseless world. It's like some twisted monster hiding behind the scenes, randomly adding absurd rules, just to see how we powerless mortals react."

"Maybe it really is like that," I whispered. If we could really blame all the bad things on some unseen force, how easy it would be.

"What?" Piqsirpoq clearly didn't catch my sense of humor.

"If someone really is controlling this world, what would you do?" I hypothesized, thinking about my preferred solution.

"I'd make them all eat shit and reshape the world with my will." Piqsirpoq said with a determined expression, as if he had long prepared this answer.

I couldn't help but laugh at his response. Soon, Piqsirpoq laughed too. We laughed like idiots, our voices overlapping.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, looked at the drying rack, and made another decision.

"The key to psychic is realizing the existence of 'self.'" At least, that's what Qana said; I wasn't sure what it meant. "That's why we're taught to use swords, because being treated as part of the body, the rules of psychics powers apply to weapons. This doesn't work for shooting types of firearms or bows, even javelins; thrown objects or energy almost never get recognized as part of the body, even the most determined strong psychics can't do it."

I held Piqsirpoq's still dripping shirt in one hand and handed him his pants with the other. He silently took them without saying much.

"So the simplest way to operate psychic without expanding the circle of consciousness," I didn't quite understand why this wasn't considered expanding the circle of consciousness, but apparently, the rules of psychic were different from what we thought was common sense and definitions, "is to extend the definition of 'self,' or reverse it, include the target within the range of 'self.'"

I tried to extend my consciousness to the shirt, like I did to Piqsirpoq earlier. But my circle of consciousness kept rejecting it, even avoiding the fabric's surface.

"Well, I guess knowing it's 'your' shirt creates some difficulty," I sighed, stopping my attempts.

I looked in Piqsirpoq's direction, just in time to see him extract liquid from the fabric, gathering it into a transparent water ball in front of his muzzle. Piqsirpoq's expression was a bit surprised, as if not quite sure he had done it himself.

"Wow, it took me a long time to control things outside my body," I genuinely admired, looking at the fist-sized water ball.

Piqsirpoq met my gaze and smiled. It stirred a certain emotion in my chest. I couldn't remember a time when he was that kind to me.

Then, the water ball suddenly burst, wetting the fur on our faces. Piqsirpoq and I looked at each other and laughed.

"Does the world make a little more sense now?" I asked Piqsirpoq, directing the water from my fur to the ground.

"A little bit," he replied, mimicking my actions to dry his fur. He looked at the splashes on the floor, still somewhat disbelieving. It would probably take some time to process; it was indeed a bit supernatural, and our brains weren't designed to understand this kind of thing.

"Actually, I..." What I was about to say was interrupted when Piqsirpoq suddenly hugged me tightly. "I..." It was as if my thoughts were suddenly cut off; I couldn't remember what I was about to say, and his warmth was transmitted to me. So warm.

"Thank you," he said softly, his tone a bit hesitant. "And... I'm sorry."

For some reason, this made my vision immediately blur. I didn't know that being hugged felt so... safe. Amidst all the cold, hostile gazes surrounding us, I finally had a safe haven of my own. I felt that I was the one who needed to apologize, but I was too choked up to speak, so I could only hold him tightly in response.

Under my fingertips, the texture of his deep, fine fur was so smooth and warm. The steady heartbeat and the warm scent buried deep in my memory made me... Oh, damn it, damn it!

I struggled to push him away; this feeling was too much of a buzzkill. But apparently, many things in this world are irrational and differ from what our simple brains assume.

I had a reaction, and because of our position, he must have felt it too. Why? I clearly didn't have... didn't I? I quickly pushed this question aside, knowing that thinking about it now would do no good.

Piqsirpoq was initially a bit puzzled, but during my hesitant struggle to remain calm or cover it up, he realized what was happening.

He glanced down, then looked back up to meet my eyes. He repeated this process, finally showing a look of sudden realization, but his confusion did not diminish. In fact, I would say it increased.

The bewilderment in those blue eyes made me ashamed, and I immediately averted my gaze. My ears, burning hot as if on fire, stood up uncontrollably, and the tail coiled between my legs was of no help, as it only emphasized the bulge in my groin.

If I weren't so stiff from embarrassment, I would probably try to cover my face and imagine myself fading from this world, erasing any trace of my existence.

Piqsirpoq scratched his right ear, made a sound somewhere between a cough and a hum, then also looked away. He took the shirt from my hand, nodded quickly to show his gratitude, then grabbed the rest of his clothes and hurriedly left the shower room without looking at me again.

I didn't notice his tail, but it felt like... he was running away.

That went well, wasn't it?

I took a few deep breaths, then glanced at the bulge in my groin, reached into my pants, and adjusted it to a more comfortable position.

He's your brother, for Rationalism's sake, even if he's only a half-brother, that doesn't change the fact.

I sighed deeply and leaned my whole body against the balcony railing, wondering how abnormal I could be.

I stayed like that until the moon set and the first rays of dawn fell on me. I rolled my eyes, looking at the surroundings turned golden by the rising sun, including those corners previously covered only by shadows.

The sunlight will shine equally on everything. Really, everything?

As if to answer my question, the warm morning breeze, carrying the scent of distant grass and the subdued heat of the rising sun, gently kissed my face.

Yes, really everything, truly.