Jose "Jibril" Rizal placed a Puppet—what I had known to be a pawn—forward.
I, who was controlling the black side of the checkered board, followed with the same move.
The tapping of wood to wood reverberated against the underground cobbled walls of the room.
Tap, tap, tap.
We made our moves.
Jibril was silent as we played, as he took a bishop—
"Sorcerer. That’s a Sorcerer.
"This one beside it," he lifted the knight piece, "is a Wolf."
Then, he raised a rook, a castle-like piece—
"This is a Lurker.
"And these..."
He raised the king and queen while they were in between his fingers.
"These are the Warlock and Witch."
He placed it down shortly after.
"Please excuse my pretentiousness, Regulus. However, I have quite a past with the creator of chaturanga."
I looked confused, beckoning him to go on. But he does not.
Instead, Basil spoke for him.
"That’s the term for chess in Bharat.
"Our little Jib may not look like it, but he’s old. Like, old-old. He refuses to state it exactly, his age, but he’s probably thousands of years old."
This made my ears perk in interest.
"But, I thought unmodified mages could only live for at most nine years?" I asked.
Jibril chuckled.
"Who said I’m not modified?"
"What do you..."
He stood up from his desk, Sam and Basil who sat behind us eyeing him.
Closer to the candlelight, Jibril removed his tattered blazer, his vest, his pants, then his shirt.
When he was nearly bare, I had instinctively closed my eyes to respect his body, but I felt the touch of Basil telling me that it was fine.
I opened my eyes.
What I saw could only be determined as an ethereal monstrosity.
Like Frankenstein, Jibril’s body was mismatched. His biceps were browner than his face; a part of his stomach was purple and mold was growing out of it; his hands had different fingers.
It was all so grotesque.
Suddenly, the rumors I heard about how mages would hide their bodies under the sun made sense.
The fact that Jibril’s classroom was underground where there was scarcely any light made sense.
Parts of the stitches in his body were squirting out pus. Furry mold grew in his eyeballs that were otherwise covered by the darkness. Maggots. Maggots were spilling from his mouth.
I wanted to question why a person would willingly become a mage if they’d end up looking like that, but I was too much in awe of the gorgeous sewing thread used for the stitches. It was gold and shimmering; Jibril had used shiny silver twine for my stitches.
There was also one thing in between his legs that should be there, dangling, but was instead missing...I decided to not raise a question about it.
He turned around so that we could see more.
Jibril’s backside had slashes closed tight with stitching, the thread extending from the slash itself. There were stitches that went across his back then into itself that formed a cross.
What’s more...
Now that the light had enlightened Jibril’s face, I was able to discern his face.
His face...His face was practically a mask. The skin was dry and folding in on itself like damp paper. He looked unnatural and not human in the slightest, which was likely why he always kept to himself underground.
Was this the fate of a mage?
The stitches were beautiful and all, but I couldn’t stand the thought of having to replace parts of my body that had rotted to an extent.
I would come to realize later on, as said by Sam, that only his brain and heart were left of his original body.
When Jibril had dressed himself up again, our conversation shifted from his past to my present.
"Has Basil told you?" questioned Sam.
I shrugged.
"Not a clue."
"Ugh..."
Sam mumbled out a groan.
"Aren’t you too forgetful, Basil? Are you sure you want to be a Magus? Your brain is already decaying."
She had elaborated that Basil had still yet to drink a mage potion, and was actually still in search of one.
"Well, aren’t you forgetful for forgetting the face of your own boyfriend?" barked Basil.
"Ugh...!"
Jibril walked into the space between the Bohemians.
"Now, now, pupils," said Jibril to calm them down. "Let’s talk about why Regulus was lured here."
"Lured?!" I exclaimed.
Basil smirked.
"Oh, nothing of the sort, Reggie. Anyhow—"
Well, I did willfully follow Basil, but for them to outwardly say that I was lured...
"—this elective."
A pause.
Then, Basil turned to Sam with a mischievous smile.
"What was I supposed to say?"
"Oh, rot in hell, Basil."
"I’m the only one in this room that isn’t rotting, you dumb woman!"
Basil coughed.
"Anyways. Welcome to the elective, Potions, where we learn to concoct potions, but, mostly, to find drugs—"
Sam shoved Basil.
"—drugs! Drugs for the potion! Not for getting high! Don’t do drugs ever, Regulus! You hear me?!"
I looked at them sheepishly.
She then explained to me that drugs like ecstasy, alongside cooling agents like Vapo Rubs were needed to be mixed into potions so that the mage-to-be wouldn’t feel the excruciating pain that came with the potion.
"...and this Potions class is occurring right now, right?"
Jibril nodded.
"...I take it that there are other students on the way, then?"
The three of them shook their heads.
Basil was first to speak after the silence.
"Too expensive for poor folks. Ingredients cost a fortune. If ingredients cost that much, could you imagine the price for just the recipe?"
"Though, the school sometimes provides the ingredients. But mostly, it’s just us going on quests to find them ourselves," added Sam.
With my finger and thumb, I rubbed my temples exasperatedly.
I glanced at Jibril.
"And I presume that Solomon got his potion from you?"
Basil scoffed.
"Are you deaf, Reg? Haven’t I told you that his family owns the recipe?"
"Then..."
Jibril shrugged.
"I guess I’m sort of his ancestor."