"Aren’t you God?"
I blurted out by accident, not meaning to interfere in the conversation of companions.
But he was my classmate, the one who people still gossiped about even when classes ended.
I didn’t quite understand them, my classmates.
I mean, we were all giving our pseudonyms. What’s wrong with wanting to be called a deity?
I myself used one that was related to my known past.
Perhaps Solomon had a past or mindset that was akin to the word.
Solomon, who was also referred to as "God," looked at me with affirmation and slight confusion.
It was as though I was stating the obvious.
"Yes, that’s quite correct. But you may call me Solomon instead."
Basil, who was looking at us back and forth, burst out laughing.
"I wasn’t aware that you still use that pseud! Ah, this is so funny."
There were tears in his eyes from laughing. Though, I didn’t see what was so amusing.
Solomon acted like he didn’t realize what was so funny about the alias he used either.
I recalled what Horace said regarding real names and a certain group of collegians at the Colegio.
He had simply elaborated on what Braham said.
"It’s actually not that frowned upon nowadays due to a group of students called the "Bohemians," who are led by some teacher I don’t know the name of, who had normalized it.
"But people besides them still refuse to use their real names in public.
"I don’t care for them nor do I know the majority of their names myself, but...
"They’re very strange folks and aren’t ones to party and mingle with other students. But they are apparently also quite knowledgeable.
"They’re known as the most intellectual group in the Colegio.
"But, knowing one of them whose name I won’t speak of, they are just..."
I watched him in the corner of the room, still held back by the straitjacket.
"How should I say this...
"Rather than intellectuals, they’re very curious. They will always have an ulterior motive."
He told me about how these Bohemians had killed a person once—someone who was a part of their circle of friends.
That this person that was killed was born as an offspring of a behemoth and man, making him a nephling.
Their leader, who would not be named by Horace, had conducted a bacchanal with the nephling as sacrifice.
At the end of it, driven by their curiosity, they fed on their friend.
No one spoke about it at school.
No one spoke to them at school
It was an unspoken agreement, apparently, amongst students that they were the ones who caused their friend’s death.
"And they would do anything to satisfy their curiosity."
We were off to a bar called Crook’s downtown to have a celebration alongside other first-years.
By "we," I was accompanied by the collegians I had met beforehand: Solomon, Basil, and Sam.
Sam came later than us and by the time we were at the bar, she was already being hit on by a group of drunken men.
On the way to the bar, Solomon had rented us a calesa—a strange and rather archaic contraption of a cart being carried by a horse.
Well, what do I know about eras and archaism? I had no previous memory of the history of the world beyond the tower, much less the original world I came from.
The sky was a deep blue when we departed from campus, and when we arrived, it was pitch black with no stars in sight.
I needed some relief after all that had happened to me.
In other words, I needed to touch grass.
I recognized Sam at once and was nearly about to bounce, but then realized that she likely didn’t recognize me as Basil did.
I pretended that I’d only known her then.
Solomon, after swatting the drunken men away, touched her shoulder as he introduced us.
"Reverie, this is Sam. For now, you only have the liberty to know her by a moniker."
I suppose you need a full name for a hex...
I nodded, and my dark and wavy hair fell down my forehead in locks.
"Please call me Regulus."
"Is that your real name?" asked Basil, who suddenly appeared.
Solomon smoothed out and adjusted his waxed slick back with his palm.
I nodded again.
"Well, then, you can call me Basil. Fully, I’d be called Basilian A Ramos. That’s B-A-R and that’s where I’m getting wasted tonight!"
Sam looked skeptical as she glanced from me to Basil.
She looked annoyed at both me and Basil.
"What?" asked Basil.
"You just gave out your whole name."
"Correct."
"To a stranger you just met."
"That’s the gist of it, yeah." Basil shrugged. "I’m glad that you have the ability to analyze situations and all, dearest Sam, but I’ve got a party to go to. Woo-hoo!"
At some point, Basil had snatched a bottle of alcohol from a bucket of ice on a plate of shot glasses and walked into the lively crowd that was bordered by a door.
The door was slightly ajar, and one could hear the party’s life growing louder once Basil entered.
Solomon hugged Sam from behind, and Sam rested her head in the crook of his neck.
There was a large gap in size with the couple
Sam blushed when he hugged her tighter..
"Aren’t we here for something else..?"
The words of Horace hit me:
"...they aren’t ones to party and mingle with other students..."
Hey.
Was I just led to a trap?
Did the people I thought I could be friendly with bring me here for a reason?
Was I their new sacrifice...?
A bead of sweat fell down my forehead, and it seemed like I was perspiring in the cold of the night.
Solomon seemed to notice my sudden hesitance, and he let go of Sam. Sam looked sad and empty without the touch of Solomon.
Instead, he touched my shoulder and it perked up in shock and anxiety.
"Regulus," said Solomon when I turned around. "Kindly follow us."
Before I knew it I gave in and was walking in an alley.