What have I done? I am too good of a Night Walker for this kind of behavior. Now that I think of it, this child can’t be Armin. His nails are too pale of a grey. The color is so light that it could not be seen by the wandering naked eye. This is the first sign of an awakening Night Walker. I cannot let this child be pulled into this fight. I must kill him.
A small voice inside of me spoke out against that decision. I shut it in the back of my head.
I will continue to act clueless and thick headed for some time. I cannot admit my mistake. As the heir to the Woon clan of Night Walkers I must keep my pride.
The school bell rings to interrupt my thoughts.
“Armin,” I call out to the child with a cutesy voice. My breakfast tried to sneak back up my throat in the process. I feel sick calling him by this name. “Um,” I try opening my eyes wider to add a childish appearance to my façade. “Armin, could you take me to the office? I need to get my schedule.”
“Sure.” That child sounded hesitant. He knew that my mistake of calling him Armin would put him in an awkward situation with I was to let my poker face fade.
The walk from the front of the school to the main office was uneventful. To add to the fake persona of mine I skipped the whole way while dragging the child. He should have been the one leading me should he not?
At least he was polite enough to walk me inside of the building. A stout Irish woman greeted the two of us at the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist is short and wide with thick, curly, orange hair that stops at her shoulders. I looked down from the woman then two her desk. The nameplate on her desk read Bride Flynn. I shall continue to assume that Ms. Flynn is Irish.
“Here ya go,” Ms. Flynn spoke in an Irish accent as she passed me a freshly printed copy of my schedule. The paper radiated heat into my hands. “Ya first class ‘o the day is in room seventy five. That young lad over there can take you.” Ms. Flynn had her arm extended with her finger pointing at that child who had brought me to this building. I sigh for a quick moment then stop midway. I turn around and give the receptionist a quick smile. I have a feeling that I will grow tired of this persona soon.
Now that I look at this child, he looks nothing like Armin. Their presence (dare I say, aura) feels similar.
I need to focus myself and remember why I came to England. I came to find the murderer in this town that belongs to the Mori clan of Night Walkers. I need to stay on task. Tonight I shall go out and find the culprit before I am forced to stay here any longer. I must get away from these cruel beings known as humans. And if that child is to get in my way I will throw away all the mercy in my being and dispose of him.