Suffocating White

Marcus had seen many arcanists and normal humans from all walks of life. From her time in Romania to the Flannan Isles, she had seen a diversity of people using her arcanum.

In essence, she was able to "read" anything akin to a book, be it an object, situation, location, or even a person — and pick up small or key details.

With that said, this ability of hers isn't powerful because, at the end of the day, it was still up to her how she'd use the information she gathered from her reading.

Her most glaring weakness was her overthinking — and how all the possible factors she takes from reading could gradually cloud her judgement and trap her in a mental and physical paralysis, trapped in pondering a thought.

But now that she was under the guidance of a senior field investigator whom she can trust, Marcus has since slowly trained herself to act on decisions more.

If she one day encounters something that would put her on a mental paralysis once more, at least she would have means of quickly getting back to her senses.

...or at least, that was how it was supposed to have been.

'What... is this...'

On her way back from a mission alongside her mentor, Marcus unexpectedly passed by a peculiar man.

From the outside he appeared quite ordinary save for his dark hair that had gray strands. If not for his youthful face, she might've mistaken him for an older person.

But what had caught Marcus' eye was not his outer visage — but what laid beneath.

The man had somehow intrigued her enough to inadvertently use her ability on him.

…causing her to read something she wasn't supposed to.

The world around her suddenly dimmed and her senses dulled.

And then — silence.

No… not silence. Not truly.

There was something else there. A sound or perhaps a pressure.

A muffled, almost inaudible hum — like the trembling buzz of old fluorescent lights. Then came a cold sensation.

Marcus blinked then suddenly found herself standing at the threshold of an incomprehensible place.

No colors, no walls, and no sky. There was only that thick grayish-white fog and what seemed like a scorched field beneath her feet.

A thick, undulating mass of the fog had blanketed everything. It was so dense it didn't just obscure the view — it suffocated it.

'What is happening... This has never happened before...'

She tried to read deeper, tried to peel back the layers as she always did — but there was nothing. No pages, no words, no memories like glass panes waiting to be touched.

Just that fog.

'What is this...?'

But then — there came a noise.

It started faint. A low, garbled whisper… like ramblings being spoken underwater — then it escalated into a cacophony.

Screams.

Screeches.

Then followed with the sharp bark of commands and the clang of metal against metal. Gunfire that rang out like thunder — too loud, too sudden, and too real. The ground trembled beneath her feet with each scream, each cry for help, each guttural death rattle echoing endlessly into the void.

Marcus clutched her chest.

Her eyes dilated as her legs felt weak, frightened by the sudden chaos in the fog.

'No… this… this isn't supposed to happen—'

She tried to sever the connection, to pull away from the fog — but it pulled back. Like it knew she was there. As if it had been waiting.

And then she saw it.

A silhouette in the distance.

At the center of that madness — that battlefield of smoke and wails — stood a lone figure.

Vague and blurred, yet… distinct. Upright, composed, and unmoving in the storm.

'Is that...'

She could not make out the details — the fog refused to part — but it was clearly a man. Broad-shouldered, clad in a refined, foreign uniform that shimmered with medals she could not name.

And those eyes.

Those dark, murky, indifferent eyes.

Eyes that had witnessed far too much to care.

Eyes that looked past blood, beyond bodies, and through lives — as if they were just passing weather.

Marcus tried to cry out.

But the moment her gaze locked with his, the fog surged forward like a tidal wave — and everything shattered.

---

Her mind was yanked back.

The gray and white marbled floors of the Foundation, the agents and researchers passing by, as well as the group of field investigators she was with all returned to her senses.

She staggered slightly where she stood, her hands trembling a bit. She hadn't realized she'd stopped breathing. Her heartbeat was hammering violently against her ribs.

She then looked up.

And saw him.

The person she had just used her arcanum on, wearing a worried look, stared down at her.

Her throat tightened. She wasn't sure what he'd do. She wasn't even sure what she would do.

So she asked, barely above a whisper:

"…Are you going to silence me?"

---

"Here."

"Oh, thank you."

Standing right beside a vending machine, Isaac, holding two cans of soda in his hands, gave one to Marcus and the other for himself.

Looking at the timid girl who appeared to be lost in her thoughts, Isaac pondered what to say.

Then, a moment later, he opened his mouth. "So... Marcus. Are you doing well now?"

"Oh, um, yes, I am." She replied with a hesitant tone. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have used my arcanum at you."

He chuckled. "It's fine, I've already forgiven you. But remember what I told you — don't just go using that around whenever and wherever. You might never know what you'd see or who might sense it."

He paused. Then, with a faux playful tone, he continued. "Speaking of which... What did you see in mine?"

Marcus hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the cold can in her hands. The metal creaked ever so faintly under her grip.

"I... I'm not entirely sure..." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was just... white, like a fog. Thick and heavy and everywhere. I couldn't see anything clearly… and then—"

Her brows furrowed, voice faltering. "There were sounds. Not words. Just… noise. Screams, maybe. Crying and metallic sounds... It didn't make any sense."

She shook her head like it would help cast away the fragments still sticking to her thoughts.

Isaac went quiet, his soda unopened in his hand.

The silence lingered between them for a bit — soft, but not uncomfortable — with their minds each having a thought of their own.

Then, he smiled.

That same charming, disarming smile — the kind that could smooth over tension, silence a room, or win over a wary crowd.

"You don't need to think about it too much." He said gently. "Whatever you saw — or didn't see — it's probably not worth remembering."

Marcus blinked at him. "But—"

He shrugged. "It's fine. Really. Just a bunch of unimportant noise from a very boring man."

A lie.

Delivered sincerely, as always.

Marcus looked like she wanted to protest again, but stopped herself. Instead, she nodded slowly and looked down at her drink.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, neither speaking — just sharing the quiet, letting the hum of vending machines and distant hallway chatter fill in the blanks.

Until a sharp voice cut through the stillness.

"Marcus."

Isaac turned his head in time to see a woman approaching from the corridor — tall and stern, dressed in the Foundation's uniform with a long open trench coat.

He recognized her.

Marcus straightened like a twig, startled. "Madam Hofmann!"

The lady named Hofmann's sharp, pale eyes were already fixed on Isaac. Calculating, cautious, but not outright hostile — but certainly not friendly.

"I'm agent Greta Hofmann responsible for this young arcanist. Is there a reason you're alone with my apprentice?"

Isaac raised both hands, amused but relaxed. "I promise I'm not recruiting her for some secret crime syndicate."

Greta didn't look amused.

He sighed and took a more formal tone. "I'm Isaac, the assistant of Madam Z. Marcus and I just happened to meet and started a conversation. And I just offered a drink and some advice. That's all."

"A drink?"

"Cola." He added. "Not poison. Probably."

Greta's gaze narrowed, but Marcus tugged lightly on her sleeve. "It's okay, Madam Hofmann. I was the one who started it. I used my arcanum recklessly, and he helped calm me down."

Greta's attention returned to Marcus. She studied her for a moment longer, then finally nodded, though her expression remained tight. "You should know better."

"I know. I'm sorry..."

She turned back to Isaac. Her tone was more neutral now, but still firm. "Apologies for the trouble."

"No harm done." Isaac waved her off with a smile. "She just saw something odd and panicked. Happens to the best of us."

Greta gave him a slight nod — professional courtesy, nothing more. Then, she placed a protective hand on Marcus' back. "Let's go. We've still got debriefing to finish."

"Yes, Madam..."

As they began walking away, Marcus turned back briefly and gave Isaac a small, grateful bow.

He returned it with a small wave and a wry smile. "See you around, Marcus."

With that said, they soon disappeared around the corner.

Isaac, meanwhile, stayed by the vending machine a little while longer, finally popping the tab on his can and taking a sip.

The fizz hit his tongue flat.

He didn't mind. Instead, his mind lingered on her words again.

'A white fog, screams, metal, crying...'

And in that mist… him.

He looked down at his reflection in the metal of the vending machine, his mind churning with thoughts.

That was fine.

He was used to people seeing only what he wanted them to see.

But for someone like Marcus to almost see more?

That was… interesting and concerning.

And dangerous.

He finished his drink.