Chapter Text
Chise had been traded before. Just never this officially.
She stood on the stage, her head bowed low, a curtain of red hair hiding her face. Years of being shuffled from one foster home to the next had worn her down, stripping away the last threads of hope that she might belong somewhere. Now, under the glaring stage lights, she had stopped pretending to fight.
Her stomach twisted as the auctioneer’s voice cut through the heavy silence, announcing the start of the bidding. She hadn’t meant to look up earlier, but the bright, blinding spotlight had seared into her eyes, forcing her gaze back to the floor. She could feel their stares, the crowd hidden beyond the light. Hundreds of faceless figures, watching, appraising, judging. Her cheeks burned with the knowledge, and she clenched her fists tight to keep them from trembling.
“1 million pounds.” A voice from the darkness.
Her breath caught, but she forced herself to remain still.
“2 million.”
The numbers felt surreal, distant, like she wasn’t even part of this transaction. What did it matter? She had sold herself, her life no longer belonged to her. She had no illusions about what she was worth or what the prices meant. She squinted against the glare of the light, trying to make out the faces in the crowd, but it was futile. The stage was blinding, and the audience was cloaked in shadows. She couldn’t see them, but they could see her. That thought made her stomach churn. She dropped her head again, hoping the spotlight couldn’t reveal the fear in her eyes.
“5 million pounds,” a firm, measured voice cut through the rising bids.
The auctioneer hesitated, waiting for a counteroffer, but the room fell silent. Chise’s heart pounded as she heard footsteps approaching the stage.
“Going once... going twice...” The auctioneer’s voice echoed, final and unyielding.
“Sold!”
The word rang out and a gavel struck wood, sealing her fate.
Chise stood frozen for a moment, the reality sinking in. Five million pounds. She didn’t know if that number was high or low, or what it said about her worth. She didn’t know if she wanted to know. Her legs wobbled as one of the auction staff ushered her off the stage. The blinding light disappeared, leaving her blinking in the dim hallway, but the knot in her stomach only tightened.
Her buyer. She would meet them now, she realized. Her chest felt hollow, her throat dry. What would they want from her? Would they put her to work? A maid, a cook, something... manageable? Or was there something worse waiting? She had no idea what people did with those they purchased, and her imagination was cruel in filling the gaps.
She followed the auction staff silently, each step heavier than the last, her mind reeling with questions she didn’t want to ask. Finally, they stopped at a door and opened it, revealing the room inside. Chise hesitated on the threshold. A man stood waiting, his back to her. He was tall, with a sleek black ponytail and a sharp grey suit.
“Step inside,” the staff urged, and Chise obeyed, her legs trembling. The man turned to face her, and she froze.
Three jagged scars raked across the left side of his face, cutting deep and uneven, a brutal contrast to his otherwise polished appearance. His dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. Already on edge, her nerves frayed to their limit, Chise inhaled sharply, the sound breaking the silence of the room.
The man extended a hand, his expression stern but not unkind. “I’m Mikhail Renfred, representing the College of Sorcery.” His sharp gaze softened slightly as he took in Chise’s hesitant demeanor. “The College is looking forward to meeting you.”
The College of Sorcery? Chise blinked, caught off guard. She’d assumed a family or a private individual would buy her, someone looking for a servant or worse. The idea of a college buying her felt strange. Impersonal, but maybe that was better. She supposed a large institution would need help, and it wasn’t surprising they had the money for such an expense.
Renfred noticed her hesitation. His outstretched hand hung in the air for a moment before Chise wiped her clammy palm against her side and cautiously reached out. Her smaller hand slid into his, and the handshake was brief, businesslike. Neither of them seemed sure of what to say next, and a heavy silence fell between them.
Renfred cleared his throat, taking the lead. “Your name is?”
“Chise Hatori.”
Renfred gave a short nod, scanning her disheveled state again. There was no judgment there, but his gaze lingered as if assessing her condition. “Miss Hatori, the College purchased you because you’re a rare mage, a sleigh beggy. We would like to study your nature, as this is a unique opportunity for magical research. In return, we will provide you with food, shelter, protection, and a place in our classes alongside the other students. You won’t face any magical dangers on the college campus.”
Chise blinked, trying to process his words. Her stomach knotted at study your nature, but the rest, food, shelter, protection , sounded almost too good to be true. She had prepared herself for labor or worse, and yet this... this didn’t sound so bad. It was strange, unfamiliar, but not immediately frightening.
“Magical dangers?”
“Yes,” Renfred tilted his head slightly, almost in surprise. “The fae, magical beasts, spirits, otherworldly beings. Creatures that could pose a threat to someone like you. The College is heavily protected by wards and staffed with skilled sorcerers who ensure the safety of everyone on campus.”
Chise stared at him, her mind struggling to keep up. Magical dangers? The fae? Her breath hitched. Could he be talking about the creatures she’d seen, the ones that haunted her since childhood, the ones that no one else could see? The thought sent a chill down her spine.
Renfred frowned slightly, reading the confusion on her face. “How much do you know about magic? Did your parents ever teach you anything about it?”
Her throat tightened. The mention of her parents brought back memories, shouting voices, cold stares, the overwhelming sense that she had never been wanted. She looked away, her voice small and uneven. “I don’t know anything about magic.”
Renfred waited, his gaze steady, but Chise didn’t offer more. After a beat, he nodded as if deciding not to press her further. “That’s fine. You’ll learn. The College is the best place for someone like you. You have much to understand about who you are and the world around you. I'll try not to overwhelm you with everything at once.”
Chise gave a small, uncertain nod, swiping her sweaty palms against her side again. She still didn’t understand most of what he was saying, but it didn’t seem like she had much choice in the matter of conversation.
Renfred glanced at the clock on the wall. “We should get going. The College is expecting us.”
Chise’s stomach lurched at the idea of leaving, though she couldn’t say why. Renfred held up his wrist, revealing an intricate watch. “We will travel with this teleportation device. It’s faster than traveling by foot or train. We’ll be at the College in an instant.”
Before Chise could protest or even fully process his words, he reached for her hand. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away, and in the next breath, the room around her dissolved. A sudden rush of cold air pressed against her skin, and for a split second, she felt weightless. Then the world snapped back into focus.
Chise staggered slightly, the solid ground beneath her feet unfamiliar. She blinked, her heart pounding as she took in her new surroundings. The towering brick walls and sprawling buildings of the College loomed before her. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of magic vibrated faintly in the air, tangible and strange.
Renfred voice was steady when he spoke, as if this were just another day. “Welcome to the College of Sorcery.”
Renfred stepped into the headmistresses office, Chise following cautiously behind. The space was grand yet welcoming, with a striking polished, red wooden desk at its center and floor to ceiling windows that flooded the room with golden sunlight. A faint floral scent lingered in the air, light but intentional, as if chosen to put visitors at ease.
Behind the desk sat the headmistress, a woman with silver streaked hair pulled into a tidy bun. Her sharp eyes scanned Chise with clinical precision, but there was no malice them, only curiosity and a faint trace of warmth. She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk.
“Miss Hatori, please, sit,” she said, her voice even and composed, yet carrying an undertone of authority that left no room for hesitation.
Chise sat stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap. Renfred, who had been quiet since they arrived, stood to the side with his arms crossed, his presence solid and stead.
The headmistress tilted her head slightly, studying Chise’s posture, her downcast eyes, and the faint tremor in her hands. “You’ve had a long day, I imagine,” she said, her tone softening just enough to feel genuine. “Let me first say that we’re pleased to have you here at the College. Your presence is a rare and wonderful opportunity.”
Chise blinked, unsure how to respond. The woman’s words didn’t feel cruel or mocking, but they didn’t sit comfortably, either.
“I know this must all feel overwhelming,” the headmistress continued, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on the desk. “But I want you to know that you’ll be safe here. The College is a place for those who don’t fit the mold of the outside world. Those who are unique, misunderstood, even feared. Here, we celebrate those differences and build a community where you can find your own sense of belonging.”
Chise hesitated, her gaze flickering to the large windows behind the headmistress. The light outside seemed impossibly bright, too stark compared to the dim uncertainty that weighed on her chest. She hadn’t felt like she belonged anywhere for as long as she could remember.
The headmistress watched her carefully but didn’t press. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her sharp gaze softening as she shifted the conversation. “Now, let’s discuss the practicalities of your stay. We need to determine what year to put you in, when is your birthday?”
“February. I’m 15.”
The headmistress paused in thought before responding. “Given your lack of magical background, we’ll place you in your first year. Most are around your age. It will give you the best chance to build a foundation of knowledge.”
Chise nodded. It would be best to start at the basics, anyways.
“As you’ve probably guessed, your situation is unique. You are a sleigh beggy, a rare and powerful type of mage. That power, however, comes at a cost. Sleigh beggy’s absorb and exude magic constantly, far more than their human bodies can handle. It’s why most don’t live long lives.”
Chise’s chest tightened at the words, but she said nothing.
The headmistress studied her for a moment longer before softening her tone. “This is why we brought you here. We want to study your unique nature and, hopefully, find ways to extend your lifespan. You’ll have access to the best magical resources, the finest education, and a safe haven from the dangers of the outside world.”
Chise nodded faintly, unsure of how to respond. The word study stuck out in her mind, stirring a quiet unease. Sensing the conversation had run its course, the headmistress shifted to a more practical tone. “Let’s move on to your classes,” she said, pulling out a printed page from her desk drawer. “These are the introductory courses we’ve arranged for you. You’ll start with the basics to ensure you’re caught up.”
Chise took the schedule with both hands, her eyes scanning the list of subjects. It felt surreal, holding a physical piece of her new life. The headmistress folded her hands and offered a small smile. “That will be all for now. Renfred will escort you to your dormitory.”
Chise stood as Renfred inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you, Headmistress,” he said, then gestured for Chise to follow him. She nodded silently, clutching the folded schedule in her hands as they exited the office.
The grand hallway outside felt cooler, the quiet hum of magic in the air more noticeable now. Renfred walked a step ahead, his pace steady, his voice calm as he began pointing out landmarks. “The College can be disorienting at first,” he said, glancing back briefly. “We’ll take the long way so you can get your bearings.”
As they passed a large, open room, Renfred gestured toward it. “That’s the cafeteria. You can come back after you’ve settled in. I’m sure you’re starving.”
Chise nodded mutely. Truth was, she hadn’t eaten all day. The nerves and hopelessness from the morning had churned in her stomach like a parasite, making the thought of food almost unbearable. But now, with the weight of her schedule in her hands and the faint flicker of routine on the horizon, she realized just how empty her body felt.
They continued down a long hallway when Renfred spoke again, gesturing toward a set of metal double doors ahead. “These are the Medical Quarters. You’ll need to stop by for your medical exam before the semester begins. Nurse Alexandra Heath will explain the testing you’ll undergo.”
Chise’s steps faltered, and her stomach twisted. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore. She’d almost forgotten what it meant to sell herself to the College. Walking these halls and receiving a schedule had made her feel like any other student starting their first year. But now, faced with those cold, uninviting doors, reality hit her like a sharp slap. Her eyes lingered on the metal doors. They looked sterile, clinical, and wholly unwelcoming. She imagined what might wait behind them: a stark room with steel walls, a hard metal table where she’d be strapped down and examined under glaring lights. The thought of lying there, helpless, in a paper gown sent a chill through her. She clenched her hands into fists, pushing the anxiety down. After all the kindness the College had shown her today, would they really turn around and treat her like that?
They continued walking down a hallway lined with identical doors, each marked with a number. The repetition of the pattern was almost hypnotic, but Chise’s mind remained preoccupied with her thoughts.
“My apprentice is a student here as well,” Renfred said, breaking the silence. “She’s in her third year. Perhaps she could give you a tour of the school tomorrow?”
Chise glanced at him from the corner of her eye, unsure how to respond. Renfred’s tone was neutral, but there was a gentleness to the offer that made her hesitate. Her past attempts at making friends had always ended in disaster. Taunts, whispers, and cruel laughter at her expense. The memory of those experiences made her chest tighten, but Renfred’s suggestion seemed genuine. She still had so many questions about the magical world and the College that she hadn’t been ready to ask him. A tour might be helpful, even if the thought of interacting with another person filled her with quiet dread.
“That would be nice,” she said finally, her voice soft. It wasn’t the whole truth, but after everything Renfred had done for her today, politeness felt like the least she could offer.
“Good,” Renfred said, his tone light. “I’ll have her stop by your dorm at noon tomorrow.”
He slowed his pace as they approached a door marked 217. “This is your room,” he said, stopping in front of it.
Renfred turned to Chise, extending his hand again. Chise hesitated for only a moment before taking it, the gesture feeling slightly more natural this time.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hatori,” Renfred said, his voice calm but sincere. “I look forward to seeing how you settle in. You have great potential, and I trust you’ll make the most of this opportunity. I hope to see you in my classes in the future.”
Chise nodded, holding his gaze. She didn’t know if her gratitude reached him fully, but she tried to convey it through her expression. “Thank you, Professor Renfred, for your kindness and patience today. I’ll do my best to meet the College’s expectations. And I hope we’ll meet again soon.”
Renfred gave a slight bow, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Until then, Miss Hatori. Take care.”
Chise stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The dorm was small but comfortable, exactly what she had envisioned a dorm room to look like. It had a simple bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a window overlooking the grounds. A small bathroom was also attached to the room.
Chise drew the curtains, shutting out the unfamiliar world outside. She needed a moment alone, away from prying eyes and the weight of the day pressing on her chest. The small room was quiet, offering a fragile sense of safety that felt foreign yet comforting. She opened the wardrobe, her fingers brushing against the neatly arranged clothes inside. A few uniforms hung in her size, alongside a pair of shoes, winter clothes, and folded stacks of socks, panties, and pajamas. It wasn’t much, but to Chise, it was more than she had ever been given in the foster homes she’d passed through. The sight stirred a flicker of gratitude for the College, for its strange kindness in rescuing her when she’d hit rock bottom.
For a moment, she let herself sit with that feeling. Then it slipped away, replaced by a familiar weight as her thoughts turned back to the unspoken terms of her stay. She thought of the metal doors to the Medical Quarters, looming cold and uninviting, and the dread of whatever tests awaited her. The unknown twisted in her stomach, tangling with the exhaustion from the day’s events.
Her stomach growled loudly, breaking her thoughts. She hadn’t eaten anything since morning, and the gnawing hunger reminded her of her body’s limits. She considered returning to the cafeteria Renfred had pointed out earlier. But the thought of facing people, of walking through the unfamiliar halls with her nerves already on edge, made her stomach churn. Anxiety tightened its grip on her chest, turning her hunger to nausea. She shook her head. Food could wait.
It was only 8 p.m., but Chise was spent. Her body ached with exhaustion, and her mind felt heavy and clouded. With the wardrobe still open, she pulled off her pants and slipped into a fresh pair of panties followed by clean white pajama bottoms. As she pulled off her shirt, her eyes caught something in the full-length mirror opposite the wardrobe.
Her shirt was still clutched in her hands as she turned slowly to face the mirror, her breath hitching at the sight of her reflection. The mark along her collarbone was stark against her pale skin, dark and unyielding, like ink spilled across a blank page. Her fingers brushed over the mark, tracing its lines as if to confirm it was truly there. The sight sent a shiver through her. She had tried to ignore it earlier, to push it out of her mind. But here, under the quiet light of her dorm room, she couldn’t look away.
It had started as a dark blotch a few weeks ago, faint and indistinct, like the beginning of a bruise. Every day, Chise studied it in the mirror, squinting and tilting her head as if a different angle might make the mark more clear. She couldn’t decipher the letters yet, but she had a sinking feeling that it was the same kind of mark as the one on her forearm.
That mark had appeared when she was much younger, starting as an identical smudge before forming into legible letters over weeks. She remembered the moment it finally became clear, how she had stared at the word with a mixture of awe and confusion. Her mother had a matching mark, too. Chise could still picture it on her mother’s skin, though the memory was hazy now, like a photo left too long in the sun.
Her mother had told her once that the marks were special, something important, though she couldn’t recall exactly what. That memory had been overshadowed by others: the fights, the yelling, the way the marks seemed to wedge themselves like thorns between her parents. The marks weren’t a blessing, not in her household. They were a source of tension, of pain. So they stopped talking about them, their existence swept under the rug and ignored like so many other things in their fractured family.
Chise had spent years not knowing what the mark on her forearm meant. No one ever explained its purpose, why it had appeared, or why no one else but her and her biological family seemed to notice it. To the outside world, the marks were as absurd as the creatures that haunted her, a figment of her overactive imagination, nothing more.
When the mark on her collarbone began to form, the same questions resurfaced, only sharper this time. What was its purpose? Why could no one else see it? Was it supposed to mean something, or was it just another sign that she was different in all the worst ways? She touched it often, running her fingers over the rough edges of the bruise-like blotch, as if her touch might somehow decode its meaning.
Chise’s thoughts drifted back to three days ago—the day she first saw the mark on her collarbone fully formed.
Her most recent foster mother had shoved a cardboard box of Chise’s belongings into her arms, her expression strained but unwavering. “I’m sorry,” the woman said, her voice brittle with frustration. “But I can’t do this anymore. You have to go.” Chise had seen this scene play out before. She wasn’t close to this family, she never was with any of them. No matter how hard she tried, the results were always the same. The creatures that haunted her, unseen by anyone else, followed her everywhere. They forced her into corners, reduced her to trembling, and made her look like a freak to those who couldn’t see what she saw.
Still, when the words came, they hurt. They always hurt. Chise’s chest felt hollow as she stood there, clutching the box of her meager belongings. How many families had turned her away? How many times would she have to start over? Would she ever find a place where she belonged, or was she destined to live this nightmare of rejection forever? Something had to be seriously wrong with her. Why else would every family discard her so easily? She took the train back to the foster center, a long and silent ride through the gray haze of her thoughts. The weight of abandonment sat heavy on her chest, and she retreated to the train’s tiny bathroom, locking herself inside. There, she let the tears fall. They came hard and fast, shaking her frame as the sobs poured out of her.
An hour passed before the storm of her emotions began to subside. Her throat burned, and her head throbbed from crying, but she felt like she had let it all out. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping to tone down the puffiness. As she leaned over the sink, she noticed the first button of her shirt had come undone in her disheveled state. The loose collar gave her an unexpected glimpse of her chest and the mark on her collarbone.
Chise had been checking the mark every day since it began forming, her curiosity mixed with dread. Until now, it had been illegible. A blotchy stain that might take weeks to become clear. But as she pulled the collar further to one side, she saw it plainly. The mark was complete.
There was no mistaking the words now. They were clear, dark, and sharp against her pale skin.
She stared at them, her heart sinking lower with each read. Over and over, her eyes traced the letters, as if hoping they might change.
And then, she dissolved.
The tears returned with violent force, pulling her back into the whirlpool of despair she had just begun to crawl out of. She sank to the floor of the cramped bathroom, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, sobbing until her stomach twisted in protest. She barely made it to the toilet before emptying its contents, shaking as the force of her grief consumed her.
Her mind spiraled. The mark wasn’t just a mystery, it was a condemnation. She was unlovable. She brought no value to anyone, not to her foster families, not to the world. Even her own mother couldn’t love her. She was a burden, a problem, something to be discarded and forgotten. She didn’t know what the mark meant, or where it came from. But what she could understand was enough. It felt like a label, a permanent declaration of her worthlessness. An omen.
When the train finally pulled into the station, Chise didn’t go back to the foster center. What would be the point? She had no value to offer any family. No one would want her, and she was tired of being passed around like unwanted luggage. For a dark moment, the thought of ending it all flitted through her mind. But there was one last option, one last way she could at least make herself useful to someone. So she decided she would sell herself at an auction.
Chise blinked, her vision blurry as tears traced warm paths down her cheeks. Slowly, the dorm room came back into focus—the wardrobe standing open, the soft glow of the lamp on the desk. She stood in front of the mirror, her used shirt clutched loosely in one hand, her gaze fixed on the mark etched across her collarbone.
The tears came quietly now, no longer the violent storm they had been on the train. Instead, a heavy cloud hung over her, oppressive and unrelenting. She didn’t know what hurt more, the memory of being abandoned by yet another foster family, the weight of discovering the mark in full, or the whirlwind of everything that had followed: selling herself, being purchased by the College, and being told that her life, her very existence, was a subject of study.
She let the shirt slip from her hand and fall to the floor. Turning away from the mirror, she rummaged through the wardrobe, her fingers trembling as she pulled out a pajama shirt. It was soft and clean, the kind of clothing she’d rarely been given by foster families. For a fleeting moment, she thought about how the College had provided her with more than she’d ever had before. But even that small flicker of gratitude couldn’t pierce the weight pressing down on her.
Pulling the shirt over her head, she turned to the mirror again. Her breath caught.
The shirt was white, simple, and meant to match the pajama pants she wore. It wasn’t cheap fabric, but her skin was pale, too pale, and the mark on her collarbone, a deep, obsidian black, stood out like a brand, stark and undeniable beneath the thin fabric. It wasn’t hidden at all.
A wave of revulsion swept over her. She wanted to claw at the mark, to tear it away from her body, to erase it from existence. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she forced herself to stop. Instead, she grabbed a thick winter sweater from the wardrobe, pulling it on over the shirt. The heavy fabric smothered the sight of the mark, and she exhaled shakily. Without another glance at the mirror, Chise turned and stumbled to the bed. She climbed beneath the blanket, curling into herself as her tears continued to flow, quiet and steady.
As she stared at the wall, she remembered how the headmistress had told her that sleigh beggys typically didn’t live for long. She found that this didn’t bother her in the slightest.