Sixth Sense Revival

>Write down what you remember of yesterday in your journal

I reach for my journal and pencil to write about what had happened yesterday.



Yesterday was a little special. My friend Cornelius and I were having a going away party with just the two of us, as 
I had passed the written portion of the caste exam and am about to embark on a journey for the practical portion 
today.

As of this moment, I am unproven. In order to rise higher, I must prove my worth to the State somehow, and I’m 
planning to do so by putting my mind manipulation ability to the test. If I pass, I’ll likely join the incubus caste, 
the only mind manipulation based caste. Their specialty is enchanting surface dwellers and leading them back to 
the Underworld to brainwash them into secret agents of the State.

We subterrestrials like to keep our existence secret. I suppose the leading officials believe that this is the best 
course of action to keep the upper hand. I think it’s because of something that happened a long time ago, like 
some kind of insurrection, but I don’t really know much.

Just as I finish writing in my journal, I hear loud knocking on the entrance door that persists for longer than it should.

I open the door just enough so that I could take a peek to see who is outside and suddenly meeting the gaze of my
 friend Corneliusc causes me to jump in fright.



With an exasperated sigh, I slowly open the door to its fullest extent to let Cornelius inside.



Cornelius enters my home with little reservation and plops down on a seat at the table.





Cornelius raises the closed burlap sack held in one of his hands.

His last sentence elevates my mood and the feeling of eager curiosity swiftly replaces the sense of annoyance. 
Cornelius brings me rare surface world gifts on occasion, most of which are unobtainable for someone of my 
status. I don’t really know how he is able to obtain these things, but I figure it’s better that I don’t ask.

What could it be this time? Fruits? Animal products like milk or cheese or honey? Perhaps… surface world meat? 
I can hardly contain my own excitement.



Cornelius turns the sack upside down and various foodstuffs falls from the sack.



Let’s see: sliced cheese, bread, an apple, and a jar of braised cave mushrooms. I’ll take it!




I dig in, eating the cheese along with the bread, and chowing down the mushrooms afterwards, making an effort 
to give myself time to appreciate the delicious taste. While eating, I notice that Cornelius is watching me intently 
with pride, like a chef watching someone eat a meal he had made from scratch. Once I finish the main meal, I 
begin to chew at the apple last as dessert.



I have a feeling that he has some form of ulterior motive and not necessarily an evil one at that. He just has a 
mysterious way of showing up at pivotal moments of my life, often with some kind of solution.




Cornelius digs into his pocket and fishes out a small, colored orb. He places it on his hand palm up and extends his
 hand towards me across the table.

I finish my apple and put the remaining core aside. I pick the orb out his hand with my thumb and forefinger.

A frown forms on my face as I focus on the object. The orb is an object called a magic marble. They contain magic 
that can be unleashed by crushing it, generally thrown at a hard surface. I don’t know what this orb can accomplish, 
but the color green suggests that it’s from the school of manipulation, out of the four schools of manipulation, 
manifestation, divination, and flight.





I confide in my problems with Cornelius often, and he is absolutely right so often to the point of it becoming 
uncanny. I’ve always attributed it to some sixth sense I know nothing about.

Noticing that he didn’t even make an attempt to tell me what it does, I come to the conclusion that it is some 
kind of contraband. The lower class masses are only allowed to own magic marbles of trivial effect.



Cornelius smiles wryly and replies with utmost sincerity.



A twinge of irritation ripples within me.




Intuition is every subterrestrial’s sixth sense. Every subterrestrial but me. Being labelled as a late bloomer is such an
 embarrassment. I’m an adult lacking what every adolescent has. It makes me feel that I’ve long fallen behind.

I’ve begun to cope with such a terrible fact, but it still stings to be put down in such a way, especially by my only 
friend who should be plentifully aware of my feelings on this. I can’t help but lash out.





I point at the door and make my decision final.



He leaves quietly, leaving the magic marble behind, and makes one last glance before shutting the door with care.



And now there is silence.

I let out a deep sigh and think up words of encouragement for myself.



Time passes and I eventually simmer down and begin to feel guilty over my outburst because in the end he meant well.


I shift my gaze to the lone marble that was left behind.

Do I…?

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long update is long. hopefully the character portraits made things more bearable?