I returned to the facility the very next day.
Just one day back at school and already, it felt wrong to be away from this place.
Maybe it was because what Narina and I had encountered, the so-called ghost, Smiller.
The Thief of Smiles had stopped being a rumor the moment the adults decided it could be useful.
A myth repurposed turned into a project.
I didn’t have time to think about that.
Something else was waiting for me.
They called it a procedure.
Something medical. Something controlled.
Like a transplant, they said.
But no one could explain what was being transplanted.
All I knew was that it wasn’t optional, and it wasn’t simple.
By the time I reached the mentorship room, my hands were already cold.
Connor stood on the other side of the thick glass wall, perfectly calm as always.
The barrier towered between us, solid, soundproof... except for the narrow channel carved into the wall, just wide enough for voices to pass through.
I sat straighter without meaning to.
“Ria,” Connor said evenly, “remember this. Exvertia isn’t about becoming louder or brighter. It’s about balance.”
I frowned. “So… I have to act like two people?”
“No.” He shook his head. “One whole.”
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He spoke like this was obvious.
Like it had always been waiting for me to understand.
“Extroversion pushes outward,” he continued. “Introversion pulls inward. Most people choose one and call it personality. But Exvertia exists in the space between. Control. Timing. Equilibrium.”
I pressed my palm against the cold glass.
Then his tone changed.
“There’s something you need to know about the procedure.”
I stiffened.
“When it begins, we’ll be moved into a sealed chamber. Both of us. Total anesthesia.”
My breath caught.
“Both of us… unconscious?”
“Yes.” His answer didn’t waver. “Your mind and body have to let go completely. Only then can synchronization begin.”
Synchronization.
The word crawled under my skin.
“What if I don’t wake up?” I asked. “What if I lose myself?”
Connor placed his hand against the glass, firm.
“You won’t. I’ll be there. Every step. You won’t be alone.”
My throat tightened.
“…Promise me.”
“Promise.”
The word echoed long after he said it.
I tried to tell myself the warmth in my chest was relief.
That the way my pulse stumbled had nothing to do with him. He was my mentor.
That was all.
Still… if it was Connor beside me, maybe I really would be safe.
He ended the session soon after.
Before I left, he asked softly, “Is there anything you want to say?”
There was.
But the words stayed trapped behind my teeth.
“Thank you,” I muttered instead.
He smiled, gentle and unknowing.
I pressed my hand against the glass once more before standing. One day, I thought, I’ll stand on your side of it.
They told us to fill out the forms together.
The final phase, they called it. Designed to strengthen the bond between subject and mentor.
The phrasing alone made my thoughts spiral.
Connor scanned the paper lazily. “Personality synchronization test,” he said. “Sounds fancy. It’s basically a compatibility quiz.”
My page felt more like a diary.
“We’re supposed to be honest… right?”
“That’s what they say,” he replied. “I usually aim for ‘stable enough not to worry the analysts.’”
He leaned closer.
“Once you become an Exvertia, you’ll share part of your emotional core with me for a while. That’s what this measures.”
My pen froze.
“So, if we fail…?”
He smiled. “Then I guess we explode.”
“W-What?!”
“Kidding... mostly.”
Despite myself, I relaxed.
But then I noticed it.
A flicker in his eyes. Gone too fast.
“You said no one loses anything,” I said quietly. “Then why do you look like you already did?”
For a moment, his mask cracked.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said firmly.
I didn’t answer.
I just watched him force the smile back into place.
The room fell silent again.
And even as I smiled back, something inside me whispered that when Connor promised nothing would be lost—
He wasn’t talking about himself.
