CHAPTER 75 — I WAITED, SHE DIDN'T COME — SO I DECIDED TO LEAVE

CHAPTER 75 — I WAITED, SHE DIDN'T COME

SO I DECIDED TO LEAVE

The punching bag moved a little further away with each strike. Percy waited for it to come back. He wasn't dodging, he wasn't stepping into it, he wasn't hitting it from behind to speed it up. He watched the bag's chain pull taut, its movement slow, and return to where it had started.

Then he would hit it again.

He planted his foot on the floor. He rotated his hip. He channeled the power that started from his shoulder into his arm, and from his arm into his fist.

The impact left a dull thud in the room. The punching bag went nearly horizontal. Percy waited. Just as he had done for a month. The bag returned.

Another strike. Clara hadn't told him on the first day. Another strike. She hadn't told him on the second day either. Percy lowered his fist.

On the third day, she sat beside him and talked about the six plates Nathaniel had eaten for breakfast. Percy had laughed. On the fourth day, she talked about Arthur's training. Percy had listened.

On the fifth day, she talked about the problem she and William had solved. Percy had shown his own answer. But she hadn't mentioned Leon. The bag came back again.

This time, Percy didn't strike. The punching bag brushed lightly against his chest and swung back.

A month ago, he had seen Clara's hand reaching out to Leon. He had also seen the day Leon had stopped Clara before. Galahad had only told him the part he couldn't hear.

Percy hadn't asked a single question since that day. He had wanted Clara to tell him herself. Because learning by asking was one thing. Being told was another.

Percy began unwrapping the bandages on his hands. He took off the one on his right hand. Then the one on his left.

There was a slight tremble in his fingers. He wasn't angry. Anger would have been easier. He could have shouted, found Leon, buried him into a wall, and regretted it a few hours later.

But this feeling didn't resemble anger. It had been carried inside him for days, changing shape, and ultimately turning into an exhausting weight. Percy looked at the empty room.

"A month."

His voice echoed back from the walls. For a month, every time Clara sat next to him, he had waited. When she held his hand, he had waited. When she leaned on his shoulder, he had waited.

Every time she said, "Do you know what happened today?" a part of him stood up. Maybe now. Clara had started telling him. But the subject always went somewhere else.

Percy was tired of waiting. The punching bag's movement stopped entirely.

"Alright then."

When he spoke this sentence, nothing changed in the room. The ground didn't split open. His Core didn't react. His temperature didn't rise. A decision was simply made.

Percy dropped the bandages to the floor.

"I'm leaving too."

Holar, standing by the door, didn't stir. Percy didn't know when he had arrived. Holar didn't enter. He waited at the threshold.

"From me?"

Percy lifted his head.

"No, Grandfather."

Holar's shoulders visibly relaxed. Percy sat on the bench next to the bag.

"From Clara."

This time, Holar's expression didn't change. He merely entered the room and sat down next to Percy. He left a small gap between them. Percy closed that gap himself. He rested his head against Holar's arm.

He didn't speak for a while. Holar didn't ask either. When Percy's breath first hitched, Holar placed a hand on his hair.

"Grandfather."

"I'm here."

"If I tell you, would I be betraying her?"

Holar thought for a brief moment.

"Are you going to tell her secret?"

"No."

"Are you going to lie?"

Percy shook his head.

"Then you will be telling how your own heart hurts."

Percy closed his eyes. The first tear slipped down his cheek. Then he started speaking.

He said he had seen Leon approach Clara. He said what Galahad had told him later. He said Clara had accepted Leon's apology, that she was friends with him knowing he still liked her.

Holar didn't interrupt. Percy didn't tell what Clara did, but what he had expected. Every evening. Every incomplete conversation. How Clara talked about everything else but not Leon.

At one point, his voice gave out. He wanted to continue. He couldn't. Holar wrapped his arm around him. Percy buried his face in his chest.

"I waited so long, Grandfather."

"I know."

"No."

Percy's voice was muffled by the fabric.

"I really waited so long."

Holar's hand rested on his hair. Percy couldn't get the words out properly anymore.

"She comes to me."

"She laughs."

"She holds my hand."

"She acts like everything is normal."

His shoulders shook.

"But nothing is normal."

Holar held him a little tighter. Percy's crying lasted a long time.

The tears gathered on Holar's chest went cold. The punching bag was no longer moving at all. Outside, the evening light slowly withdrew.

Percy finally lifted his head. His eyes were swollen.

"When I see her, I wait for her to tell me."

Holar studied his face.

"What else do you feel?"

Percy didn't answer right away. He was ashamed of the answer to this question.

"Sometimes..."

He cleared his throat.

"I feel sick to my stomach."

Holar's hand stopped. Percy bowed his head again.

"I don't want to feel this."

"Towards Clara?"

"Towards what she did."

He fell silent for a while.

"I can't separate them anymore."

This time, Holar held Percy by the shoulders and forced him to look at him.

"Listen to me carefully."

Percy raised his eyes.

"You can make a decision while you're hurting."

Holar's voice was soft but serious.

"But make sure the decision you make isn't born solely from your pain."

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Percy waited silently.

"You can't decide what Clara feels."

"I know."

"And Clara can't decide what you should feel."

Percy's lips pressed together.

Holar continued:

"If you want to leave, leave."

"If you want to stay, stay."

"If you want to forgive, forgive."

"If you want to end it, end it."

He placed his hand on Percy's chest.

"But whatever you're going to do, say it to her face."

Percy gave a slight nod. Holar's gaze hardened.

"Don't do what she did."

The sentence reached Percy. Don't hide it. Don't make her wait. Don't walk away in silence. Percy took a deep breath.

"I will tell her tomorrow."

That same night, Clara stood before her mother. Eleanor had finished speaking. Clara's hands were clasped together.

"Could Percy know?"

Eleanor didn't answer. She didn't need to. Clara thought about the past few weeks. How Percy spoke less. How he took his book and went to Galahad's side.

How he now brushed past things he would have once explained, with just a single sentence. How his fingers didn't close as tightly as before when he held her hand. A cold sensation settled inside Clara.

"Why didn't I tell him?"

She had an answer on the first day. She hadn't wanted Percy to beat up Leon. She had wanted to solve the problem herself. She had an answer on the second day too.

Leon had apologized. On the third day, telling him had felt strange. On the fourth day, even stranger. Then, every day had carried the silence of the day before. Clara ran both hands through her hair.

"Stupid me."

Eleanor was watching her. Clara suddenly lifted her head.

"Tomorrow."

"Clara—"

"I'll tell him everything tomorrow."

When she spoke this sentence for the second time, she wanted it to sound firmer. It didn't. Eleanor saw the fear on her daughter's face. Still, the decision wasn't hers to make.

"Okay."

As Clara walked to her room, she stopped in front of Percy's door. She wanted to go in. Her hand reached for the door. Then she pulled back. Tomorrow would be more proper.

She would have time to think about what to say. Percy would listen to her. He always listened. Clara entered her own room. The door closed.

At the other end of the corridor, Percy quietly left the house.

The next morning, Percy arrived at the academy alone. Wycliffe was examining the open document on his desk. When there was a knock on the door, he spoke without looking up.

"Come in."

Percy entered.

"Good morning, Professor."

Wycliffe looked at him over his glasses. Percy didn't have his book with him.

"Good morning."

Percy came to the front of the desk and asked for his unused leave days. All twenty-five of them. Wycliffe put down his pen.

"Are you not coming back until your second year?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Why?"

Percy lowered his eyes to the floor before answering. Wycliffe looked at his face. He didn't repeat the question. After a long silence, Percy simply said:

"If I stay here, I won't be able to heal."

Wycliffe stood up from his chair. Normally, before approving a student's absence, he would ask about their exams, their studies, and their responsibilities. Percy had completed them all. He had all his justifications ready in his hand.

But Wycliffe didn't ask for any of them. He signed the document. As he handed it to Percy, he didn't let go right away.

"Running away and distancing yourself are not the same thing."

Percy looked at him.

"I know, Professor."

"Are you sure?"

Percy's eyes welled up, but he shook his head.

"I'm not."

Wycliffe let go of the document.

"At least you're honest."

Percy showed a small smile.

"Thank you, Professor."

He headed for the door.

"Percy."

Percy turned. Wycliffe struggled to choose his words.

"Use the time off you've given yourself to rest."

"Not to study more."

Percy's smile grew a little.

"I can't promise that."

"I knew it."

Olsen saw him at the fire training ground. When Percy walked up to him, he extinguished the flame in his hand.

"You're early today."

"I'll be leaving early today, Master."

Olsen studied his face carefully. Percy stated it without drawing it out:

"I took twenty-five days of leave."

"I see."

Percy expected Olsen to say he didn't understand anything.

He didn't.

Olsen merely looked into the empty space in front of him.

"What about the twenty percent?"

Percy's gaze shifted to the fire ground.

"I couldn't find it."

Olsen nodded.

"Let me tell you something before you go."

Percy was all attention.

"Don't confuse finding the twenty percent with healing."

Percy's brows furrowed slightly.

Olsen continued:

"Some people think that when they get stronger, they will hurt less."

He conjured a small flame on the training ground.

"Fire can burn everything."

He closed his palm. The flame died.

"But it cannot fill the void it leaves behind."

Percy's eyes grew wet again.

Olsen saw this, but he didn't hug him. He didn't stroke his head. He remained before Percy as his teacher.

"When you return, we will discuss the twenty percent."

Percy nodded.

"How do you know I will return?"

Olsen's answer was immediate.

"You are my student."

As if that alone was enough. Percy looked away.

"I'm glad you chose me, Master."

Olsen's expression changed. Percy turned his back and walked away. Olsen exhaled only after the door closed.

When the door to 1-A opened, the conversations in the classroom continued. Percy walked in. He went to his desk. He sat down. He put nothing in front of him.

Nathaniel was the first to notice.

"Where is your book?"

"I didn't bring it."

Nathaniel frowned.

"Are you sick?"

"No."

Arthur stopped talking. William raised his head. Charlotte noticed Percy's empty desk. Marcus looked at his reflection in the glass. Something was going wrong.

Outside the door, Wycliffe didn't enter the classroom. Galahad was leaning against the wall in the corridor. Holar was waiting a bit further back. Olsen stood far enough away to remain unseen.

The door opened again. Clara walked in. When she saw Percy, a look of relief mixed with fear appeared on her face. She ran through the sentences she had been preparing all night in her mind one last time.

She came up to him.

"Hello, Percy."

"Hello, Clara."

"Can we talk?"

Percy stood up. Clara pointed to the door.

"Outside—"

"I will talk here."

Clara stopped. The voices in the classroom slowly died down. For a few seconds, Percy said nothing while facing Clara. He was waiting for the last time. Maybe Clara would start herself.

Clara parted her lips.

"Percy, I..."

Percy let her speak. But Clara didn't continue. There was something on Percy's face that she hadn't seen before. Percy nodded.

"A month."

Clara's first prepared sentence vanished.

"What?"

"I waited a month."

Clara's hands started to tremble. Percy's voice didn't rise.

"I saw you on the day we prepared the class for Advanced."

The color drained from Clara's face.

"I was by the window."

"Percy..."

"I saw that Leon told you he liked you."

Clara took a step closer.

"That day—"

"I also saw you reject him."

Clara went silent.

"I learned from my brother that you held his arm."

Clara reflexively looked at the door. Galahad didn't move from his spot.

"Don't blame him," Percy said. "He knew I had already seen it."

Clara turned back to Percy. The first tear slipped from her eye.

"I was going to tell you."

Percy only looked at her.

"I was going to tell you today."

"Today."

It was a single word. It shattered all of Clara's defenses. Percy's eyes were starting to well up, too.

"I waited a month."

Clara shook her head from side to side.

"I thought you'd beat him."

"Who?"

"Leon."

"Maybe I would have."

Percy didn't deny it. Clara tried to breathe.

"I wanted to handle it myself."

"I understand."

"Then he apologized."

"I know."

Clara's eyes widened.

Percy continued:

"He wanted to be friends."

Clara said nothing.

"He told you he still liked you."

Percy's voice cracked for the first time.

"Yet, you accepted."

"I didn't think anything bad."

"I know."

That answer wounded Clara more than being blamed would have. Percy didn't consider her a bad person. Yet, he was leaving.

"You told me you studied with William."

William set down his pen.

"You told me Arthur said he would beat me."

Arthur lowered his head.

"You told me everything Nathaniel ate."

The bread in Nathaniel's hand dropped to the table.

"If you tripped over a stone, you'd tell me, Clara."

A tear ran down Percy's cheek.

"But you didn't tell me this."

Clara started crying.

"I'm sorry."

Percy closed his eyes.

"I know."

"I'm really sorry."

"I know that too."

Clara wanted to step closer. Percy took a half-step back. Clara's foot halted.

"Every day, I waited for you to tell me."

Percy opened his eyes.

"After a point, whenever I saw you, this was the only thing that came to my mind."

"Percy, please."

"Then something worse happened."

Clara's breath caught. Percy didn't want to say it. But he wasn't going to hide it.

"When I see you, I start to feel sick to my stomach."

Clara's face went blank. No one in the classroom moved. Percy's tears were still falling.

"I don't know if this is because of you or because of me."

He took a breath.

"I don't want to find out anymore either."

"No."

Clara's voice was very small.

Percy continued:

"I took twenty-five days of leave."

Clara's eyes widened.

"I won't be coming until the second year."

"No."

"I put your things in your room."

Clara's knees shook.

"No."

For the first time, Percy looked at his friends around him.

"This is the reason I'm saying it in front of everyone."

His voice cracked again.

"So don't come and ask me what happened."

"Don't ask why we aren't talking."

"Don't ask why we aren't holding hands."

Percy was crying.

"Don't keep breaking my heart over and over again."

Then he turned to Clara.

"The era of Percy and Clara is over."

Clara lunged forward. Percy had turned his back. She caught his hand.

"I won't let go."

Percy's body tensed.

"Let go, Clara."

"Never."

"Let go."

Clara held on with both hands. Percy pulled his hand away sharply. Clara lost her balance and fell to the floor. Her lip struck the ground. Seeing the blood, Percy's expression changed.

For a moment, he moved toward her. Then he stopped. He couldn't complete that single step. Leon came running down the corridor.

"What are you doing?!"

Percy turned his head. Leon was trying to reach Clara. The expression on Percy's crying face suddenly emptied.

"Absolute Punishment."

Leon's body smashed into the wall at the end of the corridor. The stone caved in. Before anyone could react, Clara reached out her hand. White light spread around Percy.

She wasn't going to hurt him. She was only going to stop him.

"Percy, wait!"

Percy looked at the light.

"Absolute Cancel."

The whiteness vanished. Clara tried again. This time, she put more power into it.

"Please!"

Fresh tears spilled from Percy's eyes.

"Absolute Cancel."

The second light died out, too. William stood up. Wycliffe straightened up completely outside the door. Olsen's gaze sharpened. Percy couldn't do it twice in a row.

Now he had.

"Blaze."

The staff flew from deep within the corridor and settled into his palm. But it didn't gleam with joy as usual. It had felt the tremor in Percy's hand.

"Chaos Dragon Form."

Red slowly spread into his eyes. Dark lines moved within the color. They tore each other apart, then merged back together. Clara's light went out. This time, Percy hadn't canceled it.

Clara had let go herself. Percy looked at her one last time.

"I don't hate you."

Tears streamed from Clara's eyes. This sentence gave no hope. On the contrary, it proved that his departure wasn't a decision made in anger. Percy's voice came out as cold as ice:

"Stay away from me."

In the back, Leon's friends were running towards them. Galahad raised his staff. Nine bodies crashed to the ground simultaneously. Galahad didn't even look at them. He walked over to Percy and extended his hand.

Percy looked at that hand. Then he took it.

"Let's go, brother."

Galahad closed his fingers around his brother's hand. They walked together. Clara was sitting on the floor. She didn't wipe the blood on her lip. Her eyes drifted to her hands.

The hand she had held for a month was now in Galahad's hand. Percy didn't turn back a single time before disappearing at the end of the corridor. Clara had promised herself last night.

She was going to tell him tomorrow. Tomorrow had come. Percy had come, too. But he hadn't waited. Because he had already waited for a month.

END OF CHAPTER