Chapter 26: A Disappointing Outcome
Aldrich and Saldrich spent their day lounging on the couch, indulging in a famous TV series.
The two siblings streamed episode after episode, snacking on whatever they could scrounge up from the fridge.
Empty wrappers and crumbs littered the table and floor, evidence of their marathon of laziness.
Saldrich, normally the worrier, had pushed her concerns aside to embrace this fulfilling waste of time.
Aldrich had convinced her earlier with his argument: Worrying won't change what's going to happen.
Their father, Eric, had left early in the morning for his job in Upstate, leaving the siblings to their own devices.
Without parental supervision, they did exactly what most siblings would in such a scenario: absolutely nothing productive.
"Say, Sal," Aldrich began casually, his gaze fixed on the screen. "That time after I passed out from the knife wound... You wouldn't have happened to talk to Fion—"
"Hold on." Saldrich cut him off, her phone buzzing on the table.
She grabbed it, glancing at the caller ID before answering.
"Sure, take your time," Aldrich muttered, sinking deeper into the couch as Saldrich got engrossed in the call.
Her tone shifted as the conversation progressed, drawing Aldrich's attention.
He noticed her expression darken, her cheerful demeanour replaced with a look of unease.
"Is something wrong?" he whispered, careful not to disrupt her conversation.
She raised a hand, signalling him to wait, her focus still on the call. "Yes, yes, I understand. Okay, Dad. Bye."
The moment she hung up, Aldrich leaned forward, his curiosity too strong to contain.
"That was Dad, right? Did something happen at work? And why did your face suddenly turn sour during the call?" His questions spilled out in rapid succession.
"Al..." she began, her tone hesitant, heightening his anticipation.
"Come on, Sal. Don't use that tone with me. Just tell me straight—what did Dad say?"
She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "Dad called to say your results are out."
Aldrich's stomach twisted.
He had registered for the Eldora Institute assessment using Eric's email, so it made sense his father would receive the notification first.
"I didn't get in, did I?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Saldrich didn't respond immediately, but her expression spoke volumes.
Her earlier excitement had vanished, replaced by gloom.
The weight of her silence pressed down on him.
He had tried to prepare himself mentally for this possibility.
He'd told himself repeatedly that not getting in was a real outcome he should be ready to accept.
After all, knowing the story did not mean he knew the officials.
To make matters worse, the questions set were at random, not something you can be totally prepared to take head-on with full assurance that you would come out victorious.
But Aldrich had faith. He had answered the questions properly and was certain that was not where the problem stemmed from.
'It must be my mana reserve. Or my use of the five elements.'
Aldrich's display of the five elements was the basic level, nothing too extreme and something newly awakened could easily pull off with a little bit of training.
Eldora Institute required more than that.
There was also the issue with his mana count. Saldrich had a high mana reserve but that does not mean the case would apply to him.
The only thing passed down in the Aldaman's bloodline is the clover eye, nothing to do with mana reserve.
Now faced with the reality, it hit harder than he'd expected.
He was downcast, yes, but more than anything, he was disappointed in himself.
Despite his attempts to stay detached, he had secretly harboured hope.
Eldora Institute wasn't just another school—it was the heart of the story, the stage where legendary feats unfolded and where the focus characters shaped their destinies.
Failing to get in felt like a door slamming shut on his plans.
'Damn, talk about a major bummer,' he thought.
For someone who knew the ins and outs of a story spanning over a thousand chapters, failing to pass the first phase was a bitter pill to swallow.
It wasn't just a setback—it was a glaring reminder of his shortcomings.
He'd done his best, or so he thought.
But looking back, he realized he hadn't tried hard enough.
He'd taken things too lightly, failing to fully grasp that this wasn't just a story—it was his reality now.
"Well, that didn't work out as expected," he said aloud, forcing a casual tone. "But no need to worry. I'll just improvise and aim for Trove Academy instead."
Saldrich looked at him sceptically. "Trove Academy? You do realize the tuition there costs more than we've ever seen in our lives, right?"
She wasn't wrong. Trove Academy, though equally prestigious, was a private institution catering to the wealthy elite.
For someone living in a modest apartment in Midstate, it seemed like an impossible goal.
"You let me worry about that," Aldrich replied, feigning confidence.
His mind raced with possibilities. The quickest way to gather that kind of money would be through investments.
'It can't be any of the big corporations,' he thought. 'They'll give high returns, but not quickly enough. I need to target a small but promising business—one on the verge of explosive growth.'
"Al," Saldrich's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"You got in."
Her words didn't register immediately. "What?"
"The call from Dad," she repeated. "It was to tell me that you've been accepted into Eldora Institute."
Aldrich stared at her, dumbfounded. "No way."
"Yes, Al! You got in! You really got in!"
Her voice rose in pitch, overflowing with excitement.
For a moment, Aldrich was frozen.
He had almost convinced himself of failure, mentally preparing to move on to Plan B.
But now, hearing the confirmation felt surreal.
A smile slowly spread across his face as the realization sank in.
He had made it.
He was going to be part of the story, witnessing and shaping events firsthand.
Saldrich grabbed his hands, her joy contagious. "See? I told you you'd make it!"
"Yeah," Aldrich finally said, his grin widening. "I guess I did."
At that moment, all his doubts and fears melted away, replaced by a sense of fulfilment.
For better or worse, his journey was just beginning.