It was too late for any kind of explanation. Leon suddenly cannot recall what had actually happened, and despite his poor explanations in the office, he found, in horror, that the school had called Edward from work. None of the other boys could explain; it all happened too quick. He’s stuck in a period where time did not pass, where his mind cannot unravel mysteries and problems. The only thing that snapped him out of his thinking was the flabby tailcoat, being dragged by the clicking of a pair of shoes.

He can hear the exchange between the professor and Edward said, but tried not to listen. Leon focused on the professor. He was a sophisticated man, with long, curly, black hair combed back to his head, his beady eyes complementing with his sly smile.

The last detail of his little “trial” faded, as the mentor was brought into the office, covered in black soot and occasionally sprouting coughs, like a train emitting out steam (Peculiar as it is, he never saw a train before).

“...And Professor! He has been doing awful in class, even though it is his first day here!” cried the mentor, as his bellowing echoed the white room. “He had refused to do the entrance exam, spending his whole hour like a crazy...”

“I did not know anything! And you didn’t even give me the paper!” he retorted.

Edward looked at him with his beady eyes, and with that, Leon felt fear creeping up his spine, and closed his eyes and his ears to avoid the thought. The sounds of the complaining mentor and the muttering of agreement and approvement of the professor muffled in his head. Edward did not speak at any point.

Suddenly, Orie felt hands holding his wrists tightly, and new strength from the person’s hands raised his hands from covering his ears.

“Open your eyes,” said the eerie voice. Edward’s.

He did not listen.

The hands wringed his. He struggled in pain before subduing to the voice. When he opened his eyes, Leon saw the stringy looking man shadowing him and the professor. His mentor was nowhere to be seen.

“He certainly is a strange boy by your descriptions,” the professor claimed. “I’ll need to analyze him a little more. And perhaps do some research too.”

The professor put his index finger on one wall and slides his finger down the surface. Leon had just noticed the electric lines engraved in the walls, giving some light to the room. Then, the wall opened up, revealing a secret room behind it.

The secret room is the size of his classroom, which is to say, not big. The only thing in the room was a giant screen. The wall screens made a semi-circle surrounding a single chair. The screens abruptly came to life, popping hologram messages and information. The professor pulled up a hologram keyboard and typed in some kind of code. The professor then did the strangest thing Leon have seen so far. He reached inside the screen as if it was liquid, and pulled out a paper pile. The professor scanned it quickly, then pronounced his statement.

“Mr. Beta,” said the professor, “the conclusion of this investigation is that errors and bugs occurring in the board may have most likely caused your vestige to see illusions. The thrown so called knife may be a natural instinct. Of course, we shall have to report this incident to the Monarchon. You may return to your department.”

Edward, however, did not move.

“I repeat, sir, you may report back to your department.”

“You said the boy’s actions is merely based on instinct?” said Edward suddenly.

The professor leered at Edward.

“There may be a bug or a screen that could have triggered the vestige to see illusions, creating fear, a certainly unpleasant emotion humankind should not contact with.” “But his classmates did not see anything else?”

“Quite frankly, Edward, I would say you should check on the vestige’s vision. See if he is hypersensitive to technic screens. Perhaps you may need to alter his retina in your spare time. Of course, a vestige would have functional—” he looked at Leon quickly, then turned back to Edward “misconceptions.”

The professor then slowly turned to leave the room.

“Wait,” Leon shouted, a little more louder than he thought.

The professor disgruntledly stopped in his steps, his sly look piercing his skin. “You are causing me to waste my time, vestige. But speak quickly and I may forgive you.”

“The earpiece. It told me to throw it.” With that, he quickly tore the tile almost growing into his ear, and gingerly placed it in a slightly surprised professor’s hand. “An earpiece gave you a command?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“That is not the function of an earpiece.” said the Professor in a calm but dangerously cold voice. “The earpiece is meant to be a suggestive and informative device, and you should at all costs listen to its words.”

“But—”

“It’s very impolite to cut in when someone is speaking, boy,” said the professor harshly. “Be glad that we are spending so much time on you to get a proper education.

“As I was saying, an earpiece, theoretically, cannot give one simple commands. Much rather, life threatening advice. Keep this in your ear and perhaps try mind-clearing subscription. Perhaps it would cost your family some credits-” and with that look, the Professor glared at Edward, “and just perhaps your guardian could support it under his budget. But if he fails, then as fortunate as you can be, you can work under your guardian’s department. Like guardian, like vestige. What do you say, Edward?”

But Edward did not react to the Professor’s satirical comment. Instead, he just said, “check your pages again” irritably.

He flipped to the next page, only to find nothing.

He knocked the machine a few times with his entire body. The machine popped another piece of paper out of the liquid screen. The professor scanned it quickly.

“Very funny,” he said sarcastically.

“I sincerely apologize, Mr Beta, but it seems like the computer has failed to reach its purpose. Sarcastic humour is also not acceptable.” He showed Edward a blank piece of paper.

While the two tried to figure out what had happened, Orie opened his hands. It was the earpiece doing the talking, and him doing the act. The earpiece went into a static sound when he opened his hands, unravelling a nicely folded piece of paper.

The last page of the report.