Fate And Mystery

Little Secrets and awful bets

“So, Matty, I actually wanted to talk to you about today’s P.E.,” Laila transitioned. The romantic banter was immediately severed by the sudden gravity in her voice. Under the silver glow of the super moon, her expression turned clinical.

“Do you want to talk about how I almost ended up with one foot, courtesy of the great Lionel?” Matthias quipped, gesturing to his throbbing, injured ankle. “I’m thinking of suing for orthopedic damages.”

Laila let out a smooth, clear chuckle, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. The sound was like wind chimes in a storm—briefly settling the chaos in his chest. He’d made her laugh again. Despite the pivot toward seriousness, the magnetic pull between them remained taut.

“I’m not here to gloat over your pain,” she reassured him. “Though watching Lionel eat turf was the highlight of my week. No, I want to talk about your move during the foul shoot. The Templar Feint.”

“Temp-whatchamacallit?” Matthias blinked, genuinely confused. He’d expected a warning about Lionel, not a lecture on medieval athletics.

“The Templar Feint,” Laila repeated, her voice dropping an octave. “It's a deceptive maneuver used by skilled members of a group known as the Templar Welfare. You said you read it in old archives. How did you know about them?”

Matthias leaned back on the hard stone chair and sighed, the light mood draining away like water through sand. “It’s no big deal, honestly. It’s a move I learned from my mom when she taught me how to play baseball when I was eight. I just… adopted the move and infused it into my football skills. It felt natural, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’d often study old, leather-bound journals—a sketch of martial movements and poses. I thought it was just a yoga or a generic martial arts book. I read them more often than my textbooks, though the words were complicated and half of it was symbols. But the basic concepts? They helped me see the pitch differently.”

“Like the deceptive maneuver you displayed today?” Laila pressed.

“Of course. I call it ‘The Score.’ It’s unpredictable and impossible to predict because the center of gravity is a lie. Is there... something you’re interested in, Laila?” A sudden surge of nervous anxiety washed over him, a cold prickle at the base of his spine that had nothing to do with the night air.

“Matty,” she said, her gaze pinning him to the spot. “What if your mom wasn’t just a professional baseball player? What if she was a member of the Templar Welfare, and that book was a tactical guide for something much bigger than sports?”

“Are you serious?” Matthias let out a defensive laugh. “My mom in some occultic organization? She was a pro athlete, not a conspiracy theorist.” He felt a pang of disappointment. Was his dream date just a recruitment pitch?

“Sorry, Matty. I didn't mean to phrase it that way,” she apologized, bowing her head slightly—a precise, formal gesture.

“Whoa, it’s okay. Not like I'm mad at you or something, just surprised .Sorry, are you… Asian?” Matthias asked, trying to steer the ship back toward lighter waters. “Your bowing gesture is like something out of those Japanese dramas my sister binges. I kinda like it. It’s classy."

Laila smiled softly. “That’s my family’s way of showing reverence. My grandmama was a Templar Veteran, which is why I recognized your move. It’s in our blood, Matty. Whether you admit it or not, it seems it’s in yours, too.”

“Your family is connected to this Welfare group?”

Laila placed a gentle finger on his lips, quieting him. Matthias froze. The texture of her skin against his lips was a sensory overload—soft, warm, smelling of vanilla and old paper.He couldn't feel his heart beating anymore; it had migrated to his throat. The heavens, he thought in a dizzy, euphoric rush, have truly overdelivered tonight.

She scanned the square, her eyes sharp. She checked the caretaker’s lodge and the distant yapping of his dog, Nero.

“Be quiet. This is not public knowledge,” she whispered. “Members are being hunted for their esoteric knowledge. Before my grandmama passed, she handed her mantle to me. I carry the rank of Chief Scholar of the now-disbanded organization.”

Matthias gulped. But isn’t the Templar Welfare an occultic group? A demonic organization drawing power from… well, the devil? I’ve seen the threads on the late-night forums, Laila. They say you guys sacrifice goats and manipulate global markets“

“Who fed you that? That’s the opposite of what the Confraternity stood for,” Laila replied, looking hurt. She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Can I trust you, Matty? Because if I’m wrong, I’m in a lot of trouble.”

Matthias felt cold shivers run down his spine. Laila's hands touching his ? He could only manage a desperate nod.

“Say this to no one. It's our little secret.”She placed a small, neatly folded piece of aged paper into his hands and closed his fingers around it, sealing the pact with a firm squeeze . “If you believe me, meet me at this address tomorrow. Same time. I have to go—the caretaker will be snooping around soon. See ya, Matty.”

She sprinted into the darkness. Matthias stood there with a dazed grin, clutching the paper like a lottery ticket. His heart sank ,as he gave a little wace at the darkness.

“You bloody i***t! The caretaker’s here! Run!”

Isha materialized from the alley, grabbed Matthias’s shoulder, and dragged him toward the building. “Move! Old Nero must've picked our scent!”

They bolted. Matthias limped briskly, his injured ankle screaming in protest as they evaded the caretaker’s looming figure, as his annoyed grumbling voice echoed in the distance,along with the yapping of his dog Nero. They ducked behind the dormitory walls, shielded by the glow of the super moon.

“Buddy, that was amazing,” Isha panted. “You scored a date with Laila Martins! You’re a legend! I'm so telling the boys”

“Don’t you even dare!” Matthias warned, though he was beaming. “Apart from Lionel trying to cripple me, this is the best day of my life. I’m never washing this hands!” They both laughed sheepishly,as they darted into the hallway of the dorm .

“No chance in hell did he hang out with Lakewood’s model,” Beni scoffed later that night. The dorm room was cramped and smelled of stale snacks. Beni and Xavier stared at Matthias with pure disbelief.

“Look at you,” Xavier added, gesturing to Matthias’s lean frame. “You’re all bones, perfect snack for a starving vulture. A girl like Laila wouldn't look your way in a thousand years. Quit chattering.”

Matthias sat on his bed, massaging his ankle with a jackpot-winning smile.

“Oi, don't keep quiet! That smiling is making me sick,” Beni said, throwing a pillow.

“I’m telling you,” Isha cut in, acting as the ultimate hype-man. “He made out with Laila at the Founder's Square. I saw it from the shadows. She even held his hands!”

“ And we're supposed to believe that? You’re his henchman,” Beni rolled his eyes. “You’d swear he won the Nobel Prize if he asked.”

Matthias reached for the note in his pocket but stopped. 'Our little secret'. He held the note tight, reminiscing on laila's last words . “Fine then, you monkeys,” Isha declared. He pulled a smartphone from his jacket, a forbidden relic in the confines of Lakewood. Beni and Xavier gasped. “I have proof.”

Isha scrolled to a grainy photo shot from a distance. Under the moonlight, Matthias and Laila were unmistakable—hands laced, perfectly intimate.

“Impossible!” Beni screamed.

“Photoshopped!” Xavier protested " A perfect ruse to deceive us !"

“Why would I go that far to convince unintelligent Imbeciles like you two ?” Isha sighed. “You see the truth and still doubt. Are you looking down on Matt just because he isn't a meathead like Lionel, or he's incapable of scoring a date with a chick like Laila?”

“ I doubt if he'll be capable of scoring a date with anyone at all. I bet even ugly Dulcinea would turn him down,” Beni fumbled, folding his arms.

“Why you!” Isha darted at him. The room exploded into a playful wrestle. Isha, a bundle of raw muscle, pinned them both down easily,as he pulled harder on Xavier. “That’s for raiding my porridge tonight, you cave troll!”

“Let’s have a bet then, tough guy,” Xavier panted, escaping Isha’s grip. “I bet my entire term’s pocket money.”

“I’m in,” Beni added. “Until I see it with my own eyes, I’m not believing it.”

“Fine,” Isha smirked. “I bet my pocket money, my PSG jersey, and my spikes. If I lose, you take it all. If I win? You surrender your pennies, write me an apology, and act as my gofers for the rest of the term. Deal?”

“Done deal,” Xavier said. They struck a pinky-finger pact.

Matthias remained silent, the note burning a hole in his pocket. He thought of the address, the mystery of his mother, and the look in Laila’s eyes.

“We gotta go, losers!,” Beni waved as they heard the porter patrolling. “See ya tomorrow in class !”

They bolted to their rooms. Isha turned to Matthias, eyes gleaming. “What a bunch of idiots. I pity their loses , their pennies are as good as gone,Isn’t that right, Matt? Matt?”

But Matthias didn't answer. He was fast asleep, head against the wall, exhausted by a day that had changed everything. Tomorrow, the secret would truly begin. Isha sighed. He killed the lights ,and tucked himself to bed.