Lena Blaze couldn't believe it.
"Are you serious…?" Lena murmured, leaning forward a bit. "You really don't know what a phone is?" Her tone was incredulous, and she shook her head, letting her white hair fall over one shoulder.
Marcus, seated across from Rian, kept his composure. A low chuckle rumbled from his throat.
"No doubt about it, you're a curious lad," he said, his voice warm but tinged with amusement. "Tell me, which academy are you heading to?"
Rian frowned, trying to dredge up the memory. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn't come.
Rian went quiet, blinking as he mentally replayed his talk with his uncle.
'Hang on a sec,' he thought, scratching the back of his neck.
His uncle had said they were sending him to an academy, but…
What was the name of that academy?
He hadn't mentioned a name!
And that morning, when Rian climbed into the carriage, no one had bothered to see him off or give him more details.
The only person who might've known was the carriage driver—that scrawny, silent bloke he'd left behind once this car got moving.
'Damn it!' Rian yelled in his head, realising the mess he'd landed himself in.
Rian tried to stay calm on the outside, but his heart started racing. A dizzy spell hit him out of nowhere, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
'Shit, the side effects again…' Rian thought, gritting his teeth as he pressed a hand to his chest.
Lena tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.
"What's wrong with you?" she said, puzzled. She crossed her arms and stared at Rian. "You're sweating buckets."
Marcus noticed too. He frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Are you ill, lad?" he asked, his voice deep and concerned. "You don't look right."
Rian shook his head quickly, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"No, I'm fine," Rian said, forcing a smile. "Just… having a rough moment, hang on."
Rian leaned back in the seat, taking deep breaths to steady himself, though the dizziness kept swirling in his head.
Marcus watched him for a moment longer, hesitant, but then nodded.
"If you say so…" he murmured, scratching his beard again.
Marcus turned to a small compartment on the side of the limousine. He opened it with a click and pulled out a glass tumbler, then a green bottle with a shiny label. He twisted the cap off with a quick flick, and a hiss escaped as the fizzy liquid bubbled out.
Lena shot him a sideways glance and scowled, clearly miffed.
"Grandad…" she growled, crossing her arms tighter.
Marcus ignored her grumble with a chuckle and poured the green drink into the glass, filling it halfway. A citrusy smell wafted through the air, and he handed the glass to Rian with a smile.
"Fancy a lemon fizzy drink, lad?" he asked, his tone light.
Rian blinked, staring at the bubbling liquid. He had no clue what a "fizzy drink" was, but he knew what lemons were, so he figured it couldn't be too bad.
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "I like lemons."
Rian took the glass with both hands, feeling the cold against his fingers, and lifted it to his mouth.
Lena stared at him, still frowning.
'Seriously, did you have to give him that glass!?' Lena thought, exasperated.
The sharp tang hit Rian's tongue, followed by a weird tingle that shot up his throat. Before he could process it, a loud burp burst out of his mouth, echoing in the car's silence.
"Urp!" His eyes went wide, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, startled.
Marcus let out a roaring laugh, throwing his head back.
"Ha! That's what happens when you down a fizzy drink too fast," he said, slapping his leg. "Caught you off guard, eh? What'd you reckon, lad?"
Rian lowered his hand slowly, still feeling the bubbles fluttering in his stomach.
"Not bad…" he said, scratching his cheek with a grimace. "It's… weird, but it doesn't taste bad."
Rian set the empty glass on the seat beside him.
Lena, on the other hand, wasn't so amused. Her shoulders slumped, and a sad look crossed her face as she eyed the glass.
'Goodbye, my favourite glass…' Lena thought, crossing her arms.
If there was one thing she hated, it was sharing her personal stuff with others, and her grandad—who knew that rule better than anyone—had just let a complete stranger drink from that glass!