Hidden Talent and Potential

The soft clinking of utensils against fine ceramic echoed gently in the room, a quiet symphony of dinner ambiance. Khalil sat at a modestly adorned dining table, facing the principal of the academy. The warm light of an overhead chandelier cast a soft glow on the setting, illuminating the steaming dishes between them. 

Khalil couldn't deny the pang of hunger that gnawed at him, and somehow, the principal had known. He glanced briefly at the principal, who appeared relaxed yet observant, as if he could read every thought coursing through Khalil's mind. How had the man known he was hungry? A hunch? Or had the bird—the principal's elusive, intelligent bond—somehow tattled on him? 

The meal was simple but hearty—roasted meat, a medley of vegetables, and freshly baked bread that still carried the warmth of the oven. Khalil hesitated for a moment before digging in, his stomach overriding his reservations. 

The principal took a slow sip from his cup before setting it down with a deliberate motion. His sharp gaze flicked to Khalil. "Eat well. You'll need to recover after what you did back then." 

Khalil nodded, swallowing a bite of bread. The silence between them was surprisingly comfortable, the kind shared by two individuals who understood that conversation would come when the time was right. 

Finally, after taking another mouthful, Khalil broke the silence. "Principal," he started cautiously, "I've been meaning to ask… What happened after I fainted? Are the lady and her bond safe?" 

The principal smiled faintly, setting down his utensils. "Yes, they're safe. You ensured that when you acted so decisively. The healers tended to her and her bond immediately after you passed out. She expressed her gratitude before leaving for the dormitory to rest. You've done well, Kalem." 

The weight that had pressed on Khalil's chest since waking up eased slightly. He nodded, more to himself than the principal, and continued eating. 

After a moment, the principal leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "You know," he began, "I took a look at your documents earlier. Quite an interesting background you have. From what I saw, you're from an ordinary family. Your parents are peak Novice Tamers, each bonded to a single beast. You've got two younger siblings—twins, a sister and a brother. And if I'm not mistaken, your family's financial situation only began to stabilize after you started working at a beastcare shop." 

Khalil froze for a moment, his fork hovering over his plate. The principal's words weren't surprising, but hearing his life laid out so plainly felt strange, as if someone had pieced him together from fragments of his past. 

The principal continued. "The shop owner was the one who recommended and sent you here, wasn't he? Do you know why?" 

Khalil placed his fork down, his appetite dampened by the question. He rummaged through Kalem's memories, piecing together the events that had led him here. The beastcare shop had been more than just a workplace—it was practically a half-hospital for beasts.

He had started working there about two years ago, and his efforts had turned the small establishment into something much bigger. More people had begun to trust the shop with their precious bonds, and its reputation had grown exponentially. 

Then, about a month ago, the owner—an older man with a sharp eye for potential—had sat him down. 

"You're wasting your talents here, Kalem," the owner had said. "You've got the makings of a true tamer, not just a caretaker. It's time you went somewhere that could nurture that potential. The academy's the place for you." 

Kalem hadn't fully understood at the time, but he had trusted the owner's judgment. Thanking the man for his kindness, he had agreed, unsure of what lay ahead but determined to give it a shot. 

Shaking off the memories, Khalil looked up at the principal and shook his head. "No," he said quietly, "I have a vague idea, but… I'd rather keep it to myself for now." 

The principal's eyes seemed to sharpen, but he nodded in understanding. "You're as I've heard," he said, his tone carrying a hint of approval. 

Leaning forward slightly, the principal continued, his voice measured. "It's because the shop owner discovered something extraordinary about you. He found your Talent—your Tamer Talent, to be exact." 

Khalil stiffened, his pulse quickening. He didn't bother denying it; the principal clearly knew. Besides, it wasn't something he could hide—especially with what happened with the bird who saved him earlier. Instead, he gave a small nod, acknowledging the truth. 

The principal smiled faintly. "A wise choice not to hide it. Anyway, your Talent allows you to communicate with beasts, doesn't it? To understand them in ways others can't." 

Khalil nodded again, more firmly this time. 

"That's a powerful Talent even though it might seem not that good compared to other Talents." The principal said rubbing his beard. "You must know that Tamer Talents are rare. Those who awaken them, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant their talent might be, have an undeniable edge over others. It's not just about skill—it's about connection. And in this world, that connection is everything."

He continued after a pause. "From what I know, your Talent allows you to understand all the beasts, while Tamers are limited to understanding their bonds only and fully understand their words only when they achieve a True Bond. That's what makes your Talent powerful."

Khalil's fingers tensed slightly around his fork. "You seem to know quite a lot about my Talent," he observed carefully, studying the principal's expression.

The principal's eyes crinkled with something that might have been amusement. "The shop owner is an old friend. When he contacted me about you, he was... quite detailed in his observations." He paused, taking another sip from his cup. "But what interests me more is how you've managed to keep such a remarkable Talent relatively hidden. Most young people with such abilities tend to... shine more conspicuously."

A memory surfaced in Khalil's mind – Kalem's memory – of countless nights spent in the shop's recovery ward, quietly talking to injured beasts, careful to only do so when no one was watching. Of deliberately holding back, making his insights seem like lucky guesses or careful observation rather than direct communication.

"I didn't want to stand out," Khalil said finally, choosing his words with care. "The ability to understand beasts... it's not something that should be taken lightly. They trust you with their fears, their pain, their secrets. It felt wrong to use that trust for personal gain."