Paradoxical Convergence (Book 1)

Chapter 1:New School

Cecile opened his eyes to the shrill cry of the alarm echoing through the quiet room. His hand shot out, fumbling to silence the intrusive noise. In an instant, the room fell back into an unsettling stillness, the abrupt calm a sharp contrast to the chaos just moments before. He lay there for a moment, allowing the early morning sunlight to filter in through the thin curtains, casting pale streaks of light across the walls. The warmth of it was gentle, but it did little to soothe the weight that clung to Cecile's chest.

His dark eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, a familiar ritual he used to coax his mind from the grip of slumber. Slowly, the fog of sleep lifted, and with it came the remnants of the dream—that dream. The one that refused to leave him, clinging stubbornly to the edges of his consciousness.

"It's that dream again, huh," he muttered, his voice tinged with both bitterness and weariness. It was always the same—those fragmented memories of the crash, the mangled wreckage, the faint echo of his mother's final words. Time had passed, but the accident remained as sharp and vivid as the night it happened, replaying in his sleep like a wound that refused to heal.

Cecile exhaled slowly, the familiar tension settling in his limbs. Even the silence of the room seemed to bear the weight of his memories, pressing down on him. His thoughts churned, heavy and disjointed, as they always did after the dreams.

"When will these dreams stop?" Cecile murmured to the empty room, though he already knew there was no answer. He shook his head, trying to push the weight of it all aside. There was no time to dwell on things he couldn't change.

Rising from the bed, Cecile headed straight for the bathroom. The cool tiles under his feet were a brief jolt to his senses, snapping him out of his reverie. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would wake him up completely. When he finally looked up into the mirror, he was greeted by his pale reflection—his feminine features framed by chin-length raven-black hair styled into a wolfcut, under-eye bags prominent from the sleepless nights.

"Good, no more gunk in my eyes," Cecile muttered, wiping his face dry with a towel. The routine was a comfort, each step practiced and automatic, keeping his mind from wandering too far into the dark places it often sought out.

After washing up, he made his way downstairs, the familiar scent of breakfast wafting through the air. As Cecile entered the dining room, a cheery voice greeted him.

"Look who finally decided to wake up!" Tito Mark said with a wide grin. He was already seated at the table, a cup of coffee in hand, his olive skin catching the morning light that filtered through the window. His glasses rested slightly crooked on his nose, giving him a perpetually relaxed look.

As lively as ever, Cecile thought, offering a small smile in return.

"Come now, the food is getting cold," Mark urged.

"Coming, Tito," Cecile replied, taking his seat at the table. He had barely begun eating when Tita Lina entered the room, her energy as efficient and gentle as always.

"Cecile, I've already prepared your uniform and packed your bag," she said, setting down a plate with a satisfied smile.

"Thanks, Tita Lina," Cecile replied gratefully, finishing his breakfast.

Afterward, Cecile took a bath and went through the motions of his morning routine—skincare, brushing his teeth, dressing in his uniform. The dark blue blazer, paired with white long sleeves and a red pinstripe tie, fit him neatly. His uniform for St. Benedict of Nursia Academy. He checked his reflection in the mirror once more. The dark fabric contrasted sharply against his pale skin, giving him an air of quiet composure.

"This uniform looks good," Cecile murmured, though his mind wasn't really on his appearance. He was already preparing himself mentally for the day ahead.