Caelus had thought he'd be used to the attention by now. He clearly isn't.

When the fourth person he doesn't know comes up to him within the first ten minutes he stepped into Sector Delphinus, he decides that he regrets not trying to at least attempt to put on a disguise.

But then again, that wouldn't fit in with the pretentious likes of the elite sector.

The air is entirely different here in Delphinus, and even if not for his currently extremely exposed identity, he is bound to feel out of place. Not only in the way these people are dressed—although, the Arcane Academy uniform is for once coming in handy and is fit for purpose, Caelus wearing the outer blazer in the way they are supposed to instead of having it slung across his shoulders—but also in the way they carry themselves. From simple daily activities to regular motions of walking, it's as if they somehow think someone is always watching. It's like they're putting on a show, with the way they are carrying out their lives.

Simply put, they are not as carefree. Or perhaps this is the norm for them, perfect posture and poised demeanor and all. This is certainly not a place for someone as laidback as Caelus.

His shoulders are already tense from having unnaturally kept in its supposedly perfect position this entire time, feeling as though watched, as he politely faces the pair of father and child who'd approached him. It takes everything in him not to turn away.

The father gestures for his young son to move forward all without touching the young boy, as if they are polite strangers. Even between them they look taut and completely ready to put up a performance; there's no affection between family, as he's come to observe in the lesser sectors like Eridanus: no holding of hands, no piggybacks or hugs or any form of intimate proximity one expects of a family. It isn't as if Caelus himself is someone who displays these sort of affection, but even so the Aveyards and people like Roen tend to relax and openly shower him with the slightest of physical gestures—a pat on the shoulder here, a nudge on the arm there, an embrace or two. And yet there is nothing of the sort here, except formalities.

The boy stands up as tall as his height allows, puffing his chest as if preparing for an interview, and Caelus bends down to his eye level, learning from what Celeste often does with children. To his relief, the boy asks about the competitive admission of Arcane Academy and his chances of getting in—something he can easily answer off of his head. It's better than talking about himself, or answering to flattery.

While he's gotten into Arcane Academy through direct recommendation from Arcana himself, he knows the answer to this by heart. Every single ability user knows, because Arcane Academy is the top choice for future Catalysts to be. Every child aspires to go there eventually to pave the path for their future, and every parent desires to have their offsprings be part of the graduating class. If not selected by Arcana himself or handpicked by one of the Grandmasters—and either of these are rare cases that happens almost only once in every few years—then they go through the natural selection program. Every citizen is registered at birth with their ability type and class that both get tested over the years, and it is based on that the initial system filters an average benchmark from a number of factor including ability versatility, how common versus how unique it is, and other known matrixes. After that, it's all down to an individual's performance in written and physical tests, unique for each year. Most students are guaranteed an admission so long as the system acknowledges their worth, but some argues that it's exactly this sort of sorting that leads to unjust selection. No one really knows what is considered qualified.

Even so, it's not an unknown fact to everyone that bloodline is one of the most prevailing factors. It's why this so called 'elite' sector exists at all. And if the young boy is part of it, he is sure to possess some kind of talent, is most definitely in the running for Arcane Academy.

Caelus knows the boy is only asking to seek assurance of his admittance—or perhaps just to have that sense of security by talking to someone actually from Arcane Academy.

After that, he unconsciously finds himself walking faster, fearing for the next encounter. Maybe he should've think twice about coming with the identity of an Arcane Academy student, he thinks, tugging his white hair. No, maybe he'd still be recognized as... well, him. This train of thought once again makes him hate his unnatural appearance. Perhaps it was a mistake coming here in the first place. He obviously doesn't belong.

But he has a reason. And on that he focuses, moving on.

The buildings here are well maintained and polished despite the darkness looming above. The rift is obvious, like an eclipse, except that the covered sun has descended upon them. It hangs just over the skyscrapers in stark red against the purple shield over the city, almost touching the tallest ones. Some of the buildings display the latest news over their exterior that serves as a building side LED screen, not missing a beat on the still dormant status of the semi-permanent rift here in Sector Delphinus. Mostly, the news are now revealing the bureau's plan to send talents into Andromeda to reclaim the sector, including promises of restoring habitable land and more residences for the population.

Only in the smaller headlines do they mention the unfortunate news of more frequent demon attacks, and the casualties and certain deaths of professional Catalysts in the field. They will never be able to hide such facts, but they do try to downplay it with their other plans and announcement. Another noteworthy piece of news is the banishment of common offenders to beyond the borders. Protests are at a large for this new order, but to no one's surprise, headquarters hasn't responded. In fact, the only unfortunate form of a reply is through more headlines justifying why the prison has to go—to bring back lost land and restore residences to those who have lost theirs. All of these sound promising, except for the fact that the bureau never cared about the scarce residence issue and the families who'd lost their homes when Andromeda was initially quarantined. So why are they taking measures now—and quite brutal and selfish ones, for that matter—of all the times they could have taken action but chose not to?

This makes Caelus think of Arcana. Headmaster, old man, savior—there always seems to be such a timeless quality to the man that Caelus can never quite comprehend. But that, he supposes, is something you'd expect from a reality manipulator. Once a legendary figure throughout the City of Leatia, even someone like him now comes under the close watch of the government, now sent out to the Wastes for whatever classified—and dangerous—mission for the city. A powerful ability does come with a price, and in the end, they are only to be used by the bureau.

Caelus has only been in Sector Delphinus enough times to count over a single hand. Only once however, that he's been to his current intended destination.

When he eventually leaves the centre of the sector that houses more activity and arrives at the quiet edges where elegant mansions stand, his shoulders naturally relax. Here, there will be less people to recognize him.

The mansions are just that—short and wide. They differ from the rest of the structures in the City of Leatia that are built with over a hundred floors: the only limit is the sky (or in the city's case, the dome protection shield) because technology enables them to travel seamlessly between floors through the research of the teleporting ability. It's how the Aerotrain can take passengers from a certain height; citizens use terminus points to get to high ground, where they board the train.

With the small radius of land the City of Leatia is built upon, the standard is to maximize vertical build to accommodate every sector and every functions of the city. All the high floors throughout the city are built to accommodate more vertically, since the city's structure and the fact that they are the lone standing establishment apart from the rest of the world that's destroyed can only fit so much in the radius of land protected by the Great Walls of Micah. And yet, the neat row of glamorous mansions near the end of Sector Delphinus tells another story.

The mansions before him are few stories tall, yes, but they also take up too much space horizontally. Almost like a palatial space, except each unit houses only a single family, some no more than three members. This area, rarely so seen by the rest of public, is known as the house of the elites.

There are many bloodlines that produce powerful ability users, but the line of mansions standing in front of Caelus are the infamous twelve houses of the city. Each family is well known by their last name, and for their hereditary ability—or a variation or type of it. A quick glance, and he can recognize the houses that belong to some of his peers' familial lines at Arcane Academy: the Aureliuses, who dominates objects, the Lancasters, the house of shadows, and the Hasegawas, master manipulators of matter. His body takes him to where he intends to go, stopping in front of one that gleans golden near the end of the row. The Velasquezes are the only mind masters among the renowned twelve houses, and thereby rather treated with respect even among the elites; Black Tortoise type abilities are not as rare as White Tigers, but they are one of the most versatile ones.

At the front doors, Caelus hesitates. This is not a place just anyone can stride into casually. The lack of security is only because the failsafes are in the form of every family's own unique set of abilities, probably triggered the moment any stranger gets within a certain radius of the parameter. Some are deadly enough to kill, considering the type of abilities. But he isn't here as an intruder. The reason he'd not put on any form of a disguise or pretend that he was anyone else had been to fit into the elite sector well enough, but also mainly to be here as who he really is to the city: Caelus Aveyard, one of the only six S-Class of the City of Leatia. Once in a while, he finds that he has to live up to that role. It does come with its benefits, and hopefully it will serve him well enough today, even if he loathes titles and all formalities.

With that false sense of confidence in mind, he makes himself step out to the front of House Velasquez. Once more, he reminds himself that he is here as a guest.

There's a slight tingle in his skin as an infrared sensor automatically operates, and a blue light follows, scanning the entire parameter including his entire being. Somewhere within the glistening manor walls, his presence is being announced. And without much delay, the pretentious gate doors slide wide open automatically to embrace him.

The insides are just as gleaming as the exterior, the floors beneath Caelus polished and reflective as he steps in. When the entrance seals shut behind him, a voice announces his entry, and asks for any particular requests, an automatic coat hanger sliding before him. Grateful for an opportunity to be out of the academy's extremely restricting outer wear, he shrugs it off and the technology arranges it neatly on its own as he declines the offer of a drink.

"I'd hope this is not a mere short visit, like your last." On cue, Damaris Alexander Velasquez strides into the open receiving room, posh as ever in his entire suit—Caelus has never seen him without anything less than formal, almost akin to Azrael—and his styled blonde hair that reminds him eerily of Roen. "In fact, I doubt you'd have visited at all if not for my son."

So he decides to talk about Roen immediately, no pleasantries or false exchanges. Perhaps his short time with Caelus has already taught him that the boy loathes that much about conversations he deems pointless. Besides, he's right—he's here for Roen and Roen only. But for his friend, he has already a plan in mind, an offer in exchange if it ever comes down to it. The man has played his first cards, and seeing an opportunity, Caelus decides not to ignore it.

"I haven't seen him at the academy," he responds, an open prompt. "Is he well?"

"Is he not doing well at school? You must tell me," the man says instead. "I trust that you are the opposite. My son could learn a thing or two from you."

There it is; Caelus had obviously hoped for too much. Mr Velasquez only brought up Roen, but that doesn't mean he has any intention on making this about his son. But he isn't intent on letting himself be the subject of conversation—though maybe just slightly so, to fulfill the man's curiosity enough to open up about Roen's wellbeing.

He fights his bad habit down, the urge to either fire another question back or state something out of said conversation. Somehow, despite the good side he's on with the man, Caelus doubts that even Mr Velasquez would tolerate his lack of empathy. "About that," he threads carefully, "I've actually got a thing or two that I can glean from you, Mr Velasquez."

"Oh?"

"I have given it thorough consideration," he continues, liking his odds. "I'd like to accept your previous offer. It'd be an irreplaceable opportunity."

Truth is, Caelus couldn't care less. Partnerships and deals are normal in the Catalysts world, especially young talents looking to secure strong connections early in their lives. In the senior years of Arcane Academy, there are opportunities for attachment in various industries or public Catalyst figures for hands-on experience. If one is outstanding enough—hence the need to perform during live events such as the Annual Games—they will get immediate attention and sponsorship. Damaris Velasquez is one of the richest and most influential figures in society, just like Azrael—but while Azrael deals mostly with tech, Mr Velasquez invests in real estate, and law enforcement. The law directly ties to most of the bureau and the professional Catalysts, so to be in good graces with someone like him is almost a guarantee to the world of Catalysts.

Caelus knows he should be honored to have captured the attention of this man—and others who have shown him any interest at all. He also knows he should be feeling guilty about saying something he doesn't mean and doing something he barely has any interest in at all. But it might pave him toward the typical future every student in Arcane Academy yearns for, and more beyond the fame and glory, Caelus wants money. Only then he'd be able to repay everything he owes the people he is indebted to.

Mr Velasquez seems to think otherwise. "Wonderful! I highly appreciate that you'd even consider—there must be so many other offers rolling your way. It's truly an honor to have you with me."

"The honor's mine," Caelus says, inwardly cringing. "Thank you."

"There's no need." He waves his hand, and Caelus wonders if he's ever as casual with the rest of his household, or the world. "I'd get you acquainted with only the best people, I assure you."

"I trust your judgement."

"Well, now that that's settled, would you like to stay for dinner—just like old times?"

Caelus had only been over for an overly exquisite fine dining at this mansion itself once. It wasn't at all fun, considering that he and Roen had been interrupted by the man he's currently conversing with multiple times back then just to remind his own son of his shortcomings. Comparing Roen to his elder sibling, even Caelus himself. It was unbearable; Caelus hadn't known what to reply in defense of his own friend except to keep silent. Besides, Roen's other siblings are the opposite of his own kind personality, and they only talk to Caelus because they know he's somewhat important to the city.

"I would love to, but I'd have to return soon. Curfew," Caelus reminds him.

"A shame. I could, of course, bend a few rules" —Caelus is almost afraid he will—"but alas, I have work to get to. I trust we will have plenty of opportunities to collaborate, now that you've agreed to work with me. I will be seeing you extremely soon, and much more often."

He extends a hand, and Caelus takes it for a heartbeat before he asks, as casually as possible, "Before I leave, is my classmate Roen around? I haven't seen him at the academy."

If the sudden subject change back to his son does anything to Mr Velasquez, he certainly doesn't openly display his emotions. In fact, he only says—as Caelus predicted that he is unable to reject anything now that he's had a productive conversation—"One moment, please."

He turns and leaves the receiving room for a whole minute before returning, facial expression neutral. He tries for a smile as he returns to the room and sees Caelus, adding, "I'm at least honored that my son is somehow acquainted to you at school, I suppose."

The automatic reply from Caelus is: Naturally, we're friends. But he is thankfully saved from having to think of yet another political reply as Roen appears from another side of the room.

"Father, is there—" he stops short, clearly not expecting Caelus.

Caelus is relieved to see his best friend whole and fine. The scene of the explosion that had obviously took Roen still lingers in the back of his mind like a slow working toxin, and he sometimes imagines the worst of consequences, despite knowing for a fact that it was an illusion. Looking at Roen now, he finds himself reminding that his logic was right—it was all for show for whatever reason and Roen is doing just fine.

"Caelus, to what do we owe this visit?" Roen uses none of the jovial tone he usually does when they're alone. It almost as if he sounds distant; but that is how he always is on front of his father and the rest of his family. Someone doesn't ever recognize. "It's almost time for the night patrol, too. Shouldn't you be home by now for curfew?"

"He was here as my guest," Mr Velasquez replies coolly, not at all looking at Roen. "He asked to speak to you, so I humbly request that you show him the respect you'd have for all our esteemed guests. He is not your classmate, but someone you should be looking up to as an example."

Roen deflates with the almost imperceptible hunch of his shoulder and the fall of his brows, but he is composed enough, ever the perfect Velasquez heir, to respond, "Yes, father. I apologize."

Before Caelus can defend his friend, Mr Velasquez adds, "Such potential, wasted on someone with no vision." He turns to Caelus, saying this to him, and Caelus wants no more than to correct him that the only reason he and Roen can be such good friends is because they equally share the same disinterest in the professional world.

But Mr Velasquez continues, "I sometimes wish he was more like his brother, my first born. No." He changes his mind, considering. "Actually, I wish all my offsprings—now Roen visibly flinches at the choice of word—"would be more like you. A prodigy perfectly honed for this universe."

It's Caelus' turn to flinch, and he doesn't think he can take it anymore, or hear another word of similar praise. It begins to dawn on him how this might appear to Roen; something like what Mr Velasquez just said sings like a praise to others but is in fact a curse for Caelus himself, who has always been unable to bear the weight of it all.

But then he hears Roen say, "Don't say that" just as his own lips form the exact same words.

The two boys startle and look at each other. In that small moment, any tension they'd felt on each of their own shoulders dissolves completely.

Mr Velasquez turns to Roen, and Caelus is almost afraid that he might snap at his son for speaking out of line. But then he glances back at Caelus, and seems to decide against it. Perhaps the promise they'd exchanged earlier is still the triumphing factor for his mood.

Eventually, he says, "Roen, would you please see Mr Aveyard out? See to it that he doesn't encounter a delay returning to his residence. I wouldn't want him caught on the streets after curfew."

With that, Mr Velasquez finally leaves the room, taking all of the formalities with him.