Ruin Maketh Me

7 - Rejoice! This is the best of all places, this is the worst of all places

I jolt upwards.
White ceiling, white walls. No Jacques.
     I grind my palms into my temples. What had that been? A uncomfortable ache grasps my chest. No,I can't let it get to me. That was a long gone time. It doesn't belong in the now, never will belong. I rip the lingering fragments of images and warmth and scent out of my mind and bury them back in the chest somewhere too deep within me.
     Go away.
     I turn my eyes to the surroundings. I'm lying on top a small single bed still wearing the same clothes. The room is small, closet sized, but it's clean and tidy. There's a small desk covered in dust at the foot of the desk and a very narrow wooden closet squeezed in a corner.
Waking up in a room by myself seems to be a recurring theme now.
On a low bedside table is a jug of water and a plate of stale sandwiches. I lift the plate to my nose - ham and cheese, nothing strange about it. The water shows no sign of tampering either so I drink a glass and eat the sandwiches.
     There's something ironic about this first meal. Who would've thought it'd be ham and cheese sandwiches? I survey the room and door, savouring the salty creaminess of cheese. An inn or something along the same lines? Or maybe if they had been quick, the Academy itself.
     But where were they? I approach the door and place my ear against the wood. No sound, only a heavy silence. I try the handle, it twists easily, and the door swings open smoothly. I'm not a prisoner it seems. It take a step outside the room and shut the door behind me. Better familiarise myself with the surroundings before they return.
The corridor is narrow but carpeted. There are doors either side, and it all looks like a cheap hotel. My door is the fifth on the left, and there's a metal door on the far end.
I make towards it and open the door smoothly. Outside is a medium sized hall painted a garish grey. There are a few hard chairs and sofas dotted in a small corner, and apart from a person standing behind a counter, it is eerily empty. Opposite the wooden counter are glass doors leading outside, and golden daylight streams in languidly.
    It's all very strange, like a scene from horror film before everything goes down. A half smile graces my lips. Just exactly where did the four leave me?
     "Excuse me." I call, striding towards the person behind the counter.
     "Ah, sorry," the person says loudly, turning around from their frantic shuffling on the shelf behind them.
     The 'receptionist' is average height and has short, lightning blue hair. Their features somehow possess both the softness of femininity and the sharpness of masculinity, and their voice, a sunshine pitch that was neither too low nor too high.
     "Sign out here." They push a thick, yellowing book across the counter.
      A small uneasiness clutches my ankles, but I pick up a pen and sign my name on a flourish, "Where is this?"
     They raise their eyebrows exaggeratingly high, "Do you not know where this is? The prestigious Academy, and you don't recognise it?"
     I scan the drab hall again, "Haha, no, not really."
     "You're the one the Knight brought in aren't you?" They lean over the counter beaming, "Your first time here? Welcome, to the Academy's servant dorm number 10."
     Of course, this is the servants dorm.
     "The name's Hoplin, I'm the administrator. Before you go you want an introduction?" They don't even give me time to answer, "This is the greatest and most prestigious Academy ever to exist in Esrth. Only the genius, beautiful, power of rich can be admitted here. And as you from the pact, all races are allowed to apply now so we just got an influx of students." Hoplin's brown eyes widen in excitement, "This year we've got absolutely everyone! We've got Celene, Crown princess of Trinitia; Dorus and Disdas, twin princes of Soul, Lyon, the Holy Emperor's third son." Their face flushes impossibly red, "Not to mention nobility from Mal and Belkru. Supposedly, even the young masters of Kade and," Hopklin leans even closer, cupping a hand by their mouth, "Dumont are here this year. Aren't you a lucky fellow!"
A thrill races through my blood. Thank god for having such a loose mouth. I widen my eyes and adopt a look of wonder and amazement but also slight confusion, "The young masters of Kade?"
Hoplin jumps right in, "Yes, the Kade brothers! You know the archdukes of Mal, the princes of lust and sadism. Apparently they've fucked to death hundreds of people. The rumours say they've recently just killed the son of Count Lowe who disguised himself as a servant, and that's why they're getting sent here by their great pops."
A dryness fills my mouth, "Oh really?"
"Oh yeah, I'm not joking. I bet they're still going to have those wild parties here. It wouldn't even be surprising if more people died! You know, I heard they're looking for a servant to replace Lowe's son."
My smile shines even more brilliantly. Yeah, I think that's me. I have such a brilliant life don't I?
"I wouldn't mind applying, but I haven't seen them yet."
I take a step back, "They probably already have one." He's standing right before you.
"Really? I hope not," Hoplin cocks his head unnaturally, "I heard there's loads out there, even human nobility who're fighting for the position. I mean, who wouldn't want great sex?"
Damn, as if it's not hard enough already. I've seen those kinds... hungry, obsessive, addicted. Always looking for something more, something new. They'd laugh whilst falling, and they'd drag anyone down with them.
"Well, thank Uhyls, the elves didn't come this year."
     Hoplin's mouth is still moving, but all I can hear is elves, elves, elves, elves, elves...
      A deep, twisting, grappling hook of fear and nausea and despair and hate, burning hate, clenches my convulsing heart, chest, stomach, churns them, shreds them, reduces them into tiny specks of organ paper.
     I slip forwards, my feet jerk me towards the counter, towards Hoplin, and there's something, something that'll kill me if I don't ask. But ask what? What? What? Why?
     "Elves." I choke but even the word strangles me, tightens a noose around my neck and squeezes all air out of me.
     Hoplin doesn't even seem to notice, "Elves, right, it's like using other races to have their kids isn't enough, they just had to go and trigger a magic warp. If any did come this year, they'd probably end up dead some way or another before this term is even over."
     My body does not listen to me, the heart continues to slam again and again against the chest, bile is still rising and rising, and I think I might puke, but my mouth opens and closes:
     "Having their kids?"
     Hoplin shakes his head sadist, "You're one of those remotiers aren't you? Never heard of an elf or a demon in your life? Never mind, basically, no one knew why it happened or how it happened but elves can't have fertile children with elves. They have to mate with other races to produce 'fertile' offspring, and you know what the funny thing is? The child is always an elf no matter what, even with a beastian mother!"
     Get away! Get away! Yet I slump onto the counter like a stringless puppet without guidance.
     "That's not the only thing though, the mating process is very difficult and violent. It lasts for days and many don't even make it to the end. If they do, they die in the birthing process. I've never seen a birth myself, but they say the elf child rips the mother apart from inside. See, that's the thing, there are no female specimens of elves, so they basically have nothing to lose!"
     Hoplin's voice grows more and more distant, "The crazy thing is, there are absolute masses willing to give birth to their children even if that means inevitable death. Insane, huh? It's cus the elves are so powerful and beautiful you know."
     I grind my feet into the stone floor and spin away from the counter, "Just need some air."
     And I run, bursting out of the glass doors into the hot air and bright sun. I run without direction, without sight, without hearing, it's a blind urge that drives me on and on. And I can't stop.
     It's the body. It's to do with the body's previous owner. Who was he? Just who the fuck was he? He couldn't have been a nobody, not with this reaction to elves.
      Not with this fear.
      This hate.
      This horrifying, immense love.