“I hate public speaking,” I told Jongin one day as he reread my essay that I had spent the past hour struggling with. “I also hate writing essays, so today is pretty much hell for me. I can write narratives perfectly fine, but essays… ugh. Whenever I do them, I keep on going around in circles, and--”

“Your thesis statement is quite unclear,” Jongin cut in.

I snorted. “As if I had a proper thesis statement in the first place.”

“Good point.”

“Anyways, public speaking too. I get nervous when I have to stand  in front of a crowd, alone, and I keep on thinking that I’ll mess up somehow, you know? And whenever I’m supposed to talk in front of people, it’s like I forget Korean and I stumble over the stupidest of words and I start talking too fast and I sound horrible in general.”

“I noticed.”

If I had ever expected Jongin to be even a bit encouraging, I had gotten used to his short, rather blunt replies. “Thanks,” I grumbled. “If I die in front of the class today, you can be in charge of my funeral funds.”

Chapter 6

As the door to the room swung open, I had the urge to turn heel, find Luhan and threaten him to open another portal, and run home as fast as I could.

The room was huge, and there were at least twenty people sitting there, at first scan. And I had never been good at guessing numbers; so when I said twenty, it was a possibility that there was even up to forty people in the room. And having that many people was enough to make me feel nauseous.

My first thing that my mind oh-so-usefully supplied me with was to freeze in front of the door, as somewhere between twenty and forty pairs of eyes turned to lock their gaze on me. If it weren’t for Kai, who shoved me with more-than-necessary force, I would’ve just stood there for god-knows-how-long. His push almost sent me sprawling down the stairs, which more or less would’ve been the most embarrassing entrance I could ever imagine. Dwelling on it, now, though, was another stupid idea, so I attempted to move my train of thought onto something else.

The room was large; oval shaped, with stairs leading down to the center, covered in a dark velvet coloured carpet. Around the center, rows and rows of seats built up the steps, almost like how one would expect a stadium to look like -- except the seats were much too fancy for that.

Feeling so many eyes on me began to make me feel nervous. Automatically, my legs felt like jelly, unable to support me. I wanted to sit down somewhere -- public speaking was easier when one was sitting -- but there was nowhere to sit. Unless we were headed for the chairs, which were quite obviously not meant for us, then there was a high possibility that the four of us would end up standing in the middle of the room, completely in front of every watching eye.

When I was six, my mom had signed me up for dance classes. I had done okay in the class, mediocre compared to everyone, but at our first performance in front of a crowd, I burst into tears on stage and ran off to find my mom.

When I was nine, I had been selected to speak on behalf of the class for a poem. I ended up running off stage, again, but this time to the nearest garbage can and puking in it. Jinyoung had been the only family member that had been there, then, and he had, with a serious face, diagnosed me with stage fright.

Since when, speaking in front of crowds terrified me to no end. Public speaking? I’d rather be stabbed. And now, being forced to stand in so many people in the middle of a large room -- well, in many ways, it was more terrifying to me than every single thing that had happened before, even being attacked by Mr. Lim. Along with Baekhyun’s comment right before we left the house, something that refused to stop running through my head now: You have to try your best to impress the Council. And being unable to talk before them wasn’t quite impressing them.

It took a lot of nerve to straighten my back and follow Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, who were a little ways ahead of me, without shaking. I tried to concentrate on the familiar frame of Kai’s body, directing my gaze to the back of his head, and attempting to block out everyone else. Even then, my fists were clenched so tight that I had a distinct feeling that my nails would be drawing blood in my palms. Each step weighed my feet more than they should, adding to the nervousness and suspension. If this continued on, I doubted that I’d be able to get half a sentence out when we finally got to the bottom of the stairs.

After what seemed like forever, the four of us were standing at the bottom of the staircase, in the dead center of the room. And despite the three people beside me, common sense told me that everyone was staring at me. For a moment, silence covered everything in a thick blanket, before a clear cut voice shattered it.

“Jeon Mira.”

I felt very much like a child that had been sent to the office for discipline, the way my name was said, like I had done something horribly wrong. Automatically, my head snapped towards the source of the voice.

In the chair, aligned to where we were standing, sat a woman. And, aside of that very obvious detail, a sword lay across her lap.

I had told myself already to get used to the weapons -- Kai had mentioned getting me one too, even, so it wasn’t really something to get shocked over again and again -- but however much I tried, it was too much for my brain to ‘get used to.’ It took pretty much all of my self control not to fall over, and after that, to actually look her in the eye again -- which turned out easier than I imagined.

She wasn’t exactly old; white hair, yes, but something about her face -- was it her eyes? -- made her appear ageless. If you excluded the hair, this woman could very well be thirty or sixty -- I couldn’t tell. She had a strict look (and voice, as far as I could tell), mouth set in a firm, straight line. Apart from her face, however, her attire was formal; something one might expect in the seventies or eighties. Her dress, black and white, spread on the floor at her feet, pooling around the legs of her chair. Her hair, pulled back and drawn into a neat, exact bun at the top of her head.

“That’s me,” I replied in a weak voice, an octave above my normal pitch.

Baekhyun snickered beside me, and I could feel my whole face turn red. Before he could further my embarrassment, however, he stiffened. I could swear he said something along the lines of, “Kyungsoo, don’t hit me!” I daren’t actually look at Kyungsoo, but he had probably already hit Baekhyun. The embarrassment, however, didn’t fade.  

“Jeon Mira,” the woman repeated again, like I hadn’t said anything. “I now formally welcome you to Ignis.”

Silence followed that statement, which didn’t exactly make me feel very welcomed.

“Thank you, sir,” I squeaked, but I doubted anyone even heard me -- which was probably a good thing on my part. I cringed at my own choice of words -- sir -- I wondered what I was supposed to call her. Ma'am? Not sir, obviously, but it was the only thing my brain decided to supply me with at that one moment.

Kai saved me. He stepped forward, doing a formal, ninety degrees bow at the woman. His face was stony and emotionless, unlike Baekhyun, who looked like he really was going to die from holding back laughter. “Apologies, My Lady,” he said, voice considerably clearer and louder than mine. “For forgetting to inform you about yesterday’s events.” He directed a not-so-discreet glare in Baekhyun’s general direction before continuing, and the said boy shrunk back into Kyungsoo. “It’s been rather chaotic the last couple days, and Mira…” to that, he trailed off. “To be introduced to our world by being attacked by a Golem is quite a lot to take in, and she’s done so very well.”

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