Chapter 6: Club
Mark studied the metallic collar encircling June's neck, his transformed senses picking up the subtle hum of suppression technology. The device was clearly designed to dampen Starborn abilities, but actual magic operated on entirely different principles.
"Oh, this horrid thing!" He clasped his hands together with exaggerated dismay. "How terribly uncomfortable it must be!"
His fingers traced delicate patterns in the air above the collar, arcane words flowing like a gentle song. Silver light danced around the device's locking mechanism until it clicked open with a soft chime, falling harmlessly to the ground.
June rubbed her throat gratefully, relief flooding her features as her natural energy began to flow freely again. "Thank you so much. I can't believe how helpless I felt without my abilities."
Mark beamed at her with childlike pride. "Oh, it was nothing! Those silly little gadgets are no match for proper spellwork!"
June's eyes widened with sudden interest, studying Mark's delicate features with new understanding. "Wait, you can use magic too? Real magecraft?" Her voice carried genuine excitement. "I've never met another mage before, especially not someone my age!"
Mark blinked, caught off guard by her enthusiasm. The transformed part of him wanted to launch into detailed explanations about elemental theory and arcane principles, but the Mark underneath felt completely lost. He tilted his head with theatrical confusion.
"Oh my, well... it's something like that, I suppose?"
June stepped closer, her earlier trauma momentarily forgotten in the face of this discovery. "This is incredible! I can't believe I'm finally meeting someone who understands!" She paused, studying Mark's youthful appearance. "You look about my age too. Are you also struggling with finding proper instruction?"
The question hit uncomfortably close to Mark's own experiences. June continued without waiting for an answer, words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up frustration.
"I'm S-rank, which sounds impressive, but it's actually made everything worse. All the traditional magical families want nothing to do with outsiders, and the few independent mages are either too low-ranked to teach advanced techniques or they're territorial about their knowledge." Her shoulders sagged slightly. "I've been trying to teach myself for years, but there's only so much you can learn from dusty old books."
Mark's chest tightened with sympathy. He recognized the loneliness in her voice—the same isolation he'd felt as an F-rank, just from the opposite end of the spectrum. Perhaps he was wrong for trying to distance himself from June.
"That sounds absolutely dreadful," he murmured, genuine concern bleeding through his theatrical tone.
June's eyes lit up with sudden hope. "But now I've found you! Maybe... maybe you could teach me? I mean, if you're willing?" She fidgeted with her hands, vulnerability replacing her usual composed confidence. "I know we just met, but I've been searching for someone who could help me understand my abilities for so long."
Mark froze, panic rising beneath his transformed exterior. How could he possibly teach her anything? His own transformations were complete mysteries to him, and the abilities that came with them felt as foreign as borrowing someone else's memories. The childlike wonder of his current form warred with the crushing weight of disappointing someone who clearly needed help.
The internal struggle must have shown on his face because June quickly added, "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me. You probably have your own studies to focus on."
Something shifted within Mark then, ancient wisdom rising to temper his youthful appearance. His voice took on a more measured quality, though still maintaining its musical undertones.
"I would love nothing more than to help you, truly. But I fear our abilities, while they may appear similar on the surface, are fundamentally different in nature." The words carried a weight that seemed to surprise even him. "What you wield springs from the gift of Stardust, shaped by will and understanding. What I do..." He gestured vaguely at the lingering traces of silver energy around his fingers. "This comes from somewhere else entirely."
June's face fell slightly, but she nodded with reluctant acceptance. "I understand. I suppose I was just hoping..." She straightened, forcing a smile. "Well, thank you anyway. For everything. I should probably find Mark and make sure he's really okay."
Relief flooded through Mark at the reminder of their phones. The kidnappers had taken their devices, which meant June couldn't call him before his transformation wore off. He was safe from that particular awkwardness.
"Of course, your friend must be worried sick," Mark agreed, though something playful flickered in his expression. "Though I suspect he's more resourceful than he appears."
They began walking toward the warehouse exit together, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. As they reached the doorway, June turned back with curious eyes.
"I never got your name. After everything you've done for me, I'd like to know what to call my mysterious saviour."
Mark paused, feeling an odd sensation as if something was being drawn from deep within his transformed consciousness. A name surfaced, feeling both completely foreign and perfectly natural.
His lips curved in an enigmatic smile as his voice took on a more theatrical flourish. "Aelari. Aelari Starweaver, at your service."
June blinked in surprise. "Aelari? That's... unique. I've never heard that name before, but it's beautiful. I'm June Korneeva." She extended her hand with formal politeness. "I hope this isn't the last time we meet."
Mark accepted her handshake with exaggerated ceremony, bringing her fingers briefly to his lips in an old-fashioned gesture that made her blush. "The pleasure is entirely mine, dear June. And who knows? Perhaps our paths will cross again when you least expect it."
"I'd like that," June said softly, studying his ethereal features. "Maybe you could visit me at the academy sometime? I mean, if you're not too busy with your own studies."
Mark's smile turned mischievous. "Oh, I have a terrible habit of appearing when least expected. It keeps life interesting, don't you think?"
June laughed, the sound carrying genuine warmth despite everything they'd just endured. "I'll take that as a maybe then."
*
Mark's giggle escaped before he could stop it, high and musical in a way that made his own ears burn with embarrassment. Without another word, he spun on his heel and darted toward the warehouse's side exit, his robes flowing behind him like liquid starlight.
He couldn't risk staying. The transformation felt unstable, like a bubble ready to burst, and the last thing he needed was to revert back to his normal self while June watched. That conversation would be impossible to navigate.
His bare feet made no sound against the concrete as he slipped through the doorway into the maze of shipping containers. The air felt different against his spotless skin—every breeze carried scents and textures his regular senses would miss entirely. He could taste the salt from the harbour, detect the metallic residue of old machinery, even sense the lingering fear-sweat from their kidnappers.
But it wasn't just his senses. Everything felt different. His thoughts moved with a strange duality—part ancient wisdom that felt borrowed from someone else's memories, part childlike fascination that made him want to examine every shadow and sparkle of light. The combination left him dizzy.
A shipping container caught his attention, its rust patterns forming what looked like constellations. He found himself reaching toward it with genuine delight before jerking his hand back, disturbed by the impulse. This wasn't him. Or was it?
The question gnawed at him as he navigated between the containers, seeking distance from the warehouse. He felt like himself—his core thoughts and values remained intact. He still cared about June's safety, still worried about Haoyu, still carried the same fears and hopes. But something else layered over those feelings now, like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit.
The formal speech patterns from his aristocratic transformation had been easier to recognize as foreign. They'd felt like memorized lines from a play. This was subtler, more insidious. The childlike wonder seemed to bubble up from within, making him question where Mark ended and this other personality began.
He paused behind a container marked with shipping codes he could somehow read despite never learning the system. Another borrowed skill. How many abilities did these transformations carry? And what else might they change about him?
His hands trembled—delicate fingers that belonged to this magical form but somehow still felt like his own. What if one day he transformed into something darker? The aristocrat had possessed lethal skills but maintained a code of honor. This version radiated benevolent curiosity. But what if the next transformation brought cruelty instead of wonder? Violence instead of protection?
The thought sent ice through his veins. He'd always prided himself on his moral compass, on choosing to help others despite his low rank. But if a transformation could alter his speech, his interests, his very reactions to the world, could it also change his fundamental nature?
He imagined himself transformed into someone who enjoyed inflicting pain, who found pleasure in others' suffering. Would he recognize the wrongness? Would he be able to fight against impulses that felt as natural as his current fascination with magical theory?
No. He shook his head, silver hair catching moonlight. He wouldn't become a monster. His core self had to be stronger than any borrowed personality. It had to be.
But doubt lingered like a splinter in his mind, sharp and persistent. Each transformation was a gamble with his identity, and he had no idea what the stakes might ultimately be.
A distant siren reminded him of the real world waiting beyond this magical interlude. Soon he'd revert to being plain Mark Song again.
The thought brought unexpected relief.
*
The transformation dissolved like mist, leaving Mark stumbling against a shipping container in his regular clothes. His legs shook as the magical energy drained away, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion that made each step feel like wading through thick mud.
He needed to get home. The industrial district sprawled around him, all concrete and rusted metal under the darkening sky. His phone was gone—the kidnappers had taken it along with June's—so he'd have to find his own way back.
A bus stop sat three blocks away, its digital display showing routes back toward the residential areas. Mark checked his pockets and found them empty except for lint. He'd have to risk riding without a ticket and hope no inspectors boarded during his journey.
The bus arrived with a wheeze of hydraulics. Mark climbed aboard, nodding to the driver who barely glanced up from his newspaper. He found a seat near the back and slumped against the window, watching the city lights blur past as they left the industrial sector behind.
His reflection stared back from the glass—dishevelled brown hair, tired eyes, the clouded white scar across his left eye that had become his most distinctive feature. No trace remained of silver hair or delicate features. Just Mark Song, ordinary F-rank student who'd somehow stumbled through another impossible situation.
The bus swayed through evening traffic while Mark's thoughts churned. He'd saved June, but she had no idea who'd actually rescued her. She thought some mysterious mage named Aelari had appeared from nowhere. The deception sat heavy in his stomach, but what choice had he had? Revealing his identity would have opened questions he couldn't answer.
Twenty minutes later, the bus reached his stop. Mark slipped off without incident and walked the remaining blocks home, each familiar street bringing relief. The Wen house glowed with warm light against the gathering dusk.
He pushed through the front door to find the family clustered in the living room. Lihua shot to her feet the moment she saw him.
"Mark! Where have you been? We've been calling your phone for hours!"
"Kidnappers took it." The words tumbled out before he could soften them. "June and I went for coffee, and these masked guys grabbed us."
Yichen rose from his chair, his expression shifting into the focused alertness. "Are you hurt? Is June safe?"
"We're both fine." Mark sank onto the couch, suddenly aware of how drained he felt. "They drugged us, drove us to some warehouse in the docks. Had power-suppressing collars and everything."
Lihua's hand flew to her mouth. "Those are illegal! Mark, we need to call the authorities—"
"Already handled." Mark held up a hand. "I managed to transform and get us out. June's safe."
"What kind of transformation?" Haoyu leaned forward from his spot on the floor.
Mark hesitated, remembering delicate features and flowing robes. "Like a mage from some video game. All magic and energy spells. I knocked out the kidnappers and got June's collar off so she could use her abilities again."
Yichen studied Mark's face. "You're certain you're unharmed?"
"Just tired."
Lihua moved to the kitchen. "I'll make you something to eat."
"Mom, I'm fine—"
"No arguments. Sit there and rest."
Twenty minutes later, after Lihua had fussed over him with soup and Yichen had extracted every tactical detail about the warehouse location, Mark finally escaped upstairs with Haoyu.
His friend shut their bedroom door and turned to face him. "So you didn't tell June it was you."
Mark flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "I wanted to, but it felt like it would only complicate things. She was already confused and scared."
"I'm not criticizing you." Haoyu sat on his own bed, expression thoughtful. "But what if June falls in love with your other self? You know how this works—girl gets saved by mysterious stranger, develops feelings for the hero. This kind of thing does things to people."
Mark grabbed his pillow and hurled it across the space between their beds. It caught Haoyu square in the face.
"No way." Mark shook his head. "She was still worried about me. Asked me if I was safe."
"Still." Haoyu tossed the pillow back. "She might start comparing regular you to magical hero you."
"Trust me, that's not going to be a problem." Mark caught the pillow and hugged it to his chest, remembering his transformed appearance. June had probably mistaken him for a girl anyway, given how delicate his features had been.
"Want to call her? Make sure she got home okay?"
"They took our phones, remember? Besides, I don't know her number."
Haoyu grinned and pulled out his own phone. "Good thing I have it saved. And knowing her family's wealth, she probably already has a replacement phone by now."
Mark stared at the device Haoyu held out to him, thumb hovering over the screen. After everything that had happened, hearing June's voice might help settle the strange mix of relief and anxiety churning in his chest.
*
Mark accepted Haoyu's phone, fingers hesitating over the contact list. Finding June's number took only a moment—Haoyu had it labeled with her full name and rank, as if he might forget who she was.
The phone rang twice before connecting.
"Haoyu?" June's voice carried immediate concern. "Is Mark home yet? I've been worried sick—"
"It's actually me." Mark settled back against his headboard, surprised by the relief in her tone.
"Mark!" The change in her voice was instant, tension melting into genuine warmth. "Thank god you're safe. I'm so sorry I dragged you into that mess. If something had happened to you because of my family's problems—"
"Hey." Mark's voice softened. "Don't apologize. I'm just glad you're safe."
A pause stretched between them, filled with unspoken weight. When June spoke again, her voice carried a mix of wonder and something Mark couldn't quite identify.
"Were you saved by that mage too? The one with silver hair?"
Mark's chest tightened, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "Yeah."
"She was incredible." June's voice grew animated, almost breathless. "The way she moved, the spells she cast—I've never seen magic like that. So fluid and powerful. I hope someday I could be half as strong as her."
Haoyu's eyebrows shot up at the word 'she,' but Mark waved him quiet with sharp gesture.
"What happened after I ran?" Mark asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory. "With Hartwell and the others?"
"The authorities arrived about ten minutes later. Hartwell was unconscious, and the other kidnappers were barely coherent. They're all in custody now, but Dad says the investigation could take weeks." June's voice hardened slightly. "Turns out my mother's family has been planning this for years. They never accepted her marriage to Dad."
"That's insane."
"Tell me about it. Dad's assigned me personal security now—two guards who follow me everywhere until this gets resolved. It's embarrassing, but after today..." She trailed off.
They talked for another twenty minutes, June sharing details about the investigation while Mark carefully navigated questions about his own experience. The conversation felt almost normal, like the easy friendship they'd shared as children, before academy rankings had driven them apart.
Finally, June yawned audibly through the phone. "I should probably get some sleep. Today's been..."
"I know. Get some rest."
"Mark? Thank you. For being there today. Even if we both needed rescuing, having you there made it less terrifying."
After the call ended, Mark handed the phone back to Haoyu, who immediately leaned forward with obvious curiosity.
"So why did she keep calling your magical alter ego 'she'?"
Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because that's what I looked like. The transformation—Aelari—looked pretty androgynous. Delicate features, flowing robes, long silver hair. To a normal person, especially in the heat of the moment, I probably looked like a teenage girl."
"Seriously?" Haoyu's grin turned mischievous. "Man, if you actually turned into a girl, you'd be able to—"
Mark launched himself across the gap between their beds, tackling Haoyu backward with a laugh. "Idiot! I'm not a perv."
They wrestled briefly, both laughing despite the day's events. When they finally separated, breathless and grinning, some of the tension had lifted from Mark's shoulders.
*
The next morning, whispers followed Mark and Haoyu through the academy corridors like persistent shadows. Students clustered in small groups, their conversations dying as June passed with her two plainclothes bodyguards trailing discretely behind.
"Did you hear she was actually kidnapped?"
"My dad works in security—he said it was her own family."
"Those guards are from Korneev Industries. Must have been serious."
Mark kept his head down, navigating the familiar maze of curious stares and hushed speculation. The academy's rumor mill had latched onto June's situation with predictable intensity.
"Wonder if they know about your involvement too," Haoyu murmured as they passed a particularly animated group of C-rank students gesticulating wildly near the main staircase.
Mark's step faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it—kidnapping attempt on an S-rank gets resolved by unknown intervention? Someone's going to start asking questions about who helped." Haoyu's voice dropped lower. "Good thing your magic alter ego doesn't exactly look like you."
That thought settled uncomfortably in Mark's stomach as they reached the Foundation Division wing. The familiar dread of another day as the academy's most notable F-rank felt different now, tempered by something he couldn't quite name. Confidence, maybe. Or just the knowledge that he wasn't actually powerless.
Before entering his classroom, Mark spotted June near the Elite Division entrance. Her bodyguards maintained professional distance while she spoke with another S-rank student. Without the usual crushing weight of social hierarchy pressing down on him, Mark found himself walking over.
"Hey," he said simply.
June's face brightened immediately. "Mark! How are you feeling after yesterday?"
"Better. You?"
"Same." She glanced at her security detail with obvious frustration. "Though the entourage is taking some getting used to."
They talked for a few minutes—nothing profound, just normal conversation between two people who'd shared something significant. Mark noticed how naturally it flowed, without the stilted awkwardness that had marked their interactions for years. June seemed more relaxed too, less careful with her words.
"I should get to class," Mark said eventually.
"Me too. See you around?"
"Yeah. See you around."
As Mark walked to his classroom, he realized the exchange hadn't felt forced or painful. For the first time since their childhood friendship had crumbled under academy politics, talking to June felt... normal.
The morning classes passed in their usual blur of lectures and note-taking. Professor Liu's Power Development theory felt more relevant now that Mark actually had powers to develop, even if he couldn't demonstrate them publicly. Combat Fundamentals remained his strongest subject, his newfound reflexes making sparring sessions almost unfairly easy.
During lunch, while Haoyu complained about their history assignment, Mark's thoughts drifted to the afternoon ahead.
"I'm thinking of checking out some clubs after classes," Mark said, cutting through Haoyu's rant about essay requirements.
"What kind of clubs? Please tell me you're not going full nerd."
"Maybe something that could help me understand what's happening to me. Research clubs, maybe theoretical power studies."
Haoyu nodded slowly. "Makes sense. Want company?"
"Sure."
The afternoon promised new possibilities. For six years, Mark had avoided extracurriculars, knowing F-ranks weren't particularly welcome in most activities. Now, with Principal Harris's explicit permission and his own growing confidence, perhaps he could find answers about his transformations—or at least people who might help him ask the right questions.
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch period, and Mark gathered his things with unusual anticipation.
*
Mark and Haoyu made their way to the library after afternoon classes, bypassing the official extracurricular signup tables that dominated the main corridor. Mark had no interest in the structured programs—Combat Applications for Foundation Division, Basic Leadership Theory, or Essential Field Medicine. Those courses couldn't help him understand transformations that defied every classification system.
"You sure about this?" Haoyu asked as they settled at computer terminals in the library's resource section. "Principal Harris gave you access to any official class."
"Official classes won't have answers about abilities that don't officially exist," Mark replied, navigating to the academy's internal website. The student portal opened with ease, displaying course schedules, assignments, and a separate tab for student organizations.
The club registry contained dozens of entries—everything from Academic Chess Society to Zero-G Sports Enthusiasts. Mark scrolled through athletics clubs, cultural societies, and professional development groups, searching for something that might address unconventional power development.
Most clubs listed standard membership requirements and faculty advisors. The Intermediate Combat Theory Club required C-rank minimum. Advanced Research Consortium needed faculty recommendation letters. Even the supposedly inclusive Cultural Exchange Society subtly favored students who could afford international travel.
"This one," Mark said, highlighting an entry near the bottom of the alphabetical list.
Unconventional Abilities Research Group
Meeting Schedule: Wednesdays, 4:00 PM, Room B-147
Description: Student-led research into lesser-documented abilities and self-directed power development. Open to all classification levels. Focus on theoretical analysis and practical experimentation for abilities that don't fit standard training models.
"Sounds perfect for your situation," Haoyu agreed, reading over Mark's shoulder. "Though 'Unconventional Abilities Research Group' is probably the most generic name possible."
"Students naming things," Mark shrugged, clicking the application link. A simple form appeared—name, classification, brief description of interest in the club. In the interest field, Mark typed: Seeking understanding of abilities that don't match standard classifications.
"Not joining?" Mark asked as he filled out the form.
"Research isn't really my thing. But I can hang out if you need company."
Mark printed the application and they gathered their things. Room B-147 sat in the academy's older wing, where smaller classrooms housed specialized programs and student activities. The corridors felt different here—less polished than the main academic areas, with worn floors that spoke of decades of student foot traffic.
They found the room easily enough. Mark knocked on the partially open door.
"Come in," a familiar voice called.
Mark stepped inside and froze. June Korneeva sat at the front of the room, papers spread across a desk, looking up with surprise that quickly shifted to pleased recognition. Behind her, a girl with vibrant red hair and wire-rimmed glasses glanced up from a thick textbook.
"Mark?" June's eyebrows rose. "Are you here about the club?"
"I..." Mark held up his application form. "Yeah. I saw the listing and thought it might be relevant."
"That's wonderful!" June's enthusiasm seemed genuine. She gestured to the redhead. "This is Meya Crona, our vice president and theoretical researcher. Meya, this is Mark Song."
Meya offered a shy wave, adjusting her glasses nervously. "Nice to meet you."
"So there are only two members currently?" Haoyu asked from the doorway.
"Three, technically," June replied. "Though our third member, Adrian, has attendance issues. His ability makes him chronically drowsy, so he often skips meetings." She looked at Mark's application. "We really need two more members to qualify for official funding and extracurricular credit."
Mark handed over his form. June scanned it quickly, nodding approvingly.
"Self-classification questions are exactly what we focus on here," she said. "So many abilities don't fit textbook categories. Even F-rank powers can develop in unexpected ways with proper understanding and practice."
Mark felt a pang of guilt at her assumption but pushed it aside. In a way, she wasn't wrong—he was trying to understand an ability that defied classification.
"What kind of research do you do?" Haoyu asked, stepping further into the room.
Meya looked up from her book. "Theoretical analysis of documented edge cases, comparative studies between similar but distinct ability types, exploration of manifestation triggers for late-developing powers." Her voice grew more confident as she spoke about the subject matter. "Basically anything that doesn't fit standard academy curriculum."
"We also do practical experimentation," June added. "Safe testing of unconventional applications, meditation techniques, alternative training methods. Nothing dangerous, obviously."
Haoyu glanced at Mark, then back at the near-empty room. "How long have you been trying to recruit members?"
"Two weeks," June admitted. "Since the semester started. Most students either don't need help with their abilities or..." She trailed off diplomatically.
"Or don't want to be associated with a club that admits any rank," Mark finished flatly.
June's expression softened. "That's their loss. Some of the most interesting ability research involves understanding limitations and working around them."
Haoyu shifted his weight, considering. "You know what? If you need five members and Mark's joining anyway..." He shrugged. "I'll sign up too. My telekinesis isn't exactly groundbreaking, but I can hang out and help with whatever."
"Really?" June's face lit up. "That would be amazing! We'd have our full membership."
Mark looked at his friend gratefully. Haoyu's decision meant Mark wouldn't be navigating this alone, even if his real reasons for joining remained hidden.
"So when do we start?" Mark asked.