Codex #1: Awakening

Sequentia #1: Sanctum of Ruse

Fragmentum #1: Haunting past (1)

“Listening to Our Inner Voice”

A gentle voice spoke.

A boy sat in a daze, gazing absentmindedly at the winter afternoon beyond the window. The crisp air and soft sunlight painted a serene picture, yet something felt distant—unreal.

“Aren”

The voice called out, pulling him from his trance.

Snapping to attention, he turned his head and found himself seated in a classroom, positioned in the third row from the front, tucked into the leftmost corner.

‘Where am I? What was I doing?’ Confusion clouded his mind.

"Aren, are you listening?" The gentle voice called again.

"Y-Yes," he stammered, standing abruptly.

His gaze settled on the woman at the front of the room. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, dressed in formal attire, with neatly cut bobbed hair and thin-framed glasses. A composed, studious air surrounded her, soft yet firm.

‘Is my name Aren? Or Arden?’ The thought struck him.

Aren felt a bit hot and his eyes were burning slightly.

The teacher smiled. "Sit down."

Aren sat down, his gaze drifting across the classroom.

Behind the teacher, a large green board dominated the front of the room. Written in bold letters at the top was:

"Moral Science"

 Lesson #23: Inner Voice

Below, faint chalk scribbles hinted at a short moral story she had shared earlier.

Scanning the room, Aren took in the rows of wooden desks occupied by students—boys and girls. A handful appeared engaged, listening with interest, but most looked indifferent. Some stared blankly ahead, others fidgeted restlessly, and a few had even succumbed to drowsiness.

Their lack of enthusiasm for the lesson was evident.

Aren exhaled quietly and turned his attention back to the teacher, trying to focus on what she was saying.

“As I was saying, our next topic is about listening to our inner voice.”

Her hands moved in rhythm with her warmth filled steady voice.

“We should always strive to follow the righteous path—to do the right thing, no matter the circumstances.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, her smile unwavering.

“But what is right? And what is wrong?”

Silence filled the room. The students shifted in their seats, unsure whether to answer.

After a brief wait, the teacher continued, “Simply put, any action, speech, intent, or decision is considered right if the outcome is beneficial—to you, those around you, society, nature, or the world as a whole.”

She took a step forward, her gaze sweeping across the room.

“On the other hand, if an action, speech, intent, or decision causes harm—to yourself, others, society, nature, or the world—then it is considered wrong.”

The students remained silent, some frowning in thought. The teacher let the words settle before adding,

“There will be times when this distinction is not so clear. What if an action harms you but benefits others or the world? It is still right.

But what if something benefits you at the cost of others or the world? Then it is wrong.”

She raised her hand, gesturing toward the class. “So, how do we distinguish between right and wrong?”

The room remained still. 

After a brief sigh, she continued, disappointed at the lack of response.

“There are four ways to determine whether our actions are right or wrong…”

“The first way is through scriptures and religion.”

She continued with a steady voice, “While there have always been those who twist religion for their own selfish motives, causing harm to others, the core teachings of religious texts remain unchanged—they preach non-violence(not causing harm to others), righteousness(doing the right thing), and a life of virtue(character development).

We can always look to these teachings and ask ourselves: Do our thoughts, speech and actions align with them?”

She let the thought linger before moving on.

“The second is constitutional law.”

“The law—our constitution—is a set of guidelines that shape our lives as citizens. These laws are crafted by brilliant minds after careful revisions and trials. And, as times change, so do these laws, evolving to match societal standards.”

She adjusted her glasses and continued, “The law exists to maintain order and ensure a peaceful society. If something is considered unlawful, it is often—though not always—wrong in the moral sense as well.”

“Third, we learn from our seniors—our parents, teachers, and those who have come before us.”

“Our elders, like our parents, grandparents, and teachers, possess wisdom gained through experience. They have seen the world far longer than we have and often know what is right and what is wrong.”

“They think of what is best for us. They have practical knowledge and can guide us in making the right decisions.”

She paused, allowing the students to absorb the weight of her words.

**“And finally, if none of the above can provide an answer, there is one more guide—our inner voice.”

The teacher placed a hand on her chest as she spoke, “Each person has an inner voice, a quiet guide that tells us what is right and wrong. It speaks to us at all times, offering answers to our deepest questions.”

She smiled gently. “The key is knowing what to ask.”

“To judge any action or before you speak or do something, ask yourself—

 Does your speech or actions harm others?

 Is this the right thing to say or to do, according to the time, place, and occasion?”

“If you listen closely, the answer will always be there—clear and unmistakable.”

She looked around the classroom.

“Now, do any of you have questions?”

A girl seated near the front, stood up, drawing the attention of the entire class.

“Yes, Jessie?” The teacher’s eyes brightened, gratified that at least some students were paying attention.

“Teacher, what should we do if we see others doing something wrong?”

“If you can, you should stop them. But if that’s not possible, inform a teacher, a parent, or even law enforcement. They will help uphold justice and prevent harm.”

“At the very least, stay away from them.”

Satisfied, the girl nodded and sat down.

From the back row, a boy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. Raised his hand lazily.

“Yes, Ian?”

Ian stood, his voice laced with skepticism. “Teacher, why should we do the right thing?”

The teacher’s smile remained as she answered, “Because it is the right thing to do. Doing good, even at a personal cost, is considered virtuous.

“Religious texts teach us that good deeds lead to heaven, while bad deeds lead to hell.

“To make your parents and teachers proud.”

Ian scoffed, but the teacher continued unfazed. 

“From a practical perspective, righteous actions build a better society. They reduce harm, promote fairness, and ensure peace.”

She glanced around the room. “Small ethical choices add up. They shape the world around us and pave the way for a bright future.

“If everyone followed moral principles, performed their duties, and treated others with kindness, there would be no more strife and the world would be a far better place to live in.”

She gestured toward the classroom window, as if motioning to the world beyond. “This better world is where your children and grandchildren—the next generations—will live. What we do today shapes ours and theirs tomorrow.”

Her voice softened. “And goodness always comes back to us, even if not immediately.”

Ian’s smirk deepened. “But, teacher, how do we know heaven and hell exist? Has anyone actually seen them? Did you see them?”

A hush fell over the class.

Ian pressed on, his voice growing bolder. “And what if my parents or teachers tell me to do the wrong thing? Should I still listen? Then where is filial piety?”

“That…” The teacher faltered.

“Why should I care for the next generations? What do I gain from that?

His eyes narrowed. “Who can guarantee that the good I do will ever come back to me?”

Silence.

“Why should I do something that harms me while others break the rules and enjoy themselves?”

The teacher opened her mouth but hesitated. She had no answer.

At that moment—ding, ding, ding—the school bell rang, shattering the tension.

Excitement buzzed through the classroom. It was the weekend, and with no afternoon classes, the students practically leaped from their seats.

The teacher let out a quiet sigh of relief, masking it with a polite smile. “We’ll continue this discussion next time. Until then, have a great weekend, everyone.”

Ian clicked his tongue, watching as the teacher swiftly gathered her stuff and left—almost as if she were escaping.

The other students, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, dashed toward the playground, eager for their freedom.

Copyright © [March] [2025] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved. 

*****************

“Aren, shall we go?” Jessie approached Aren just as he finished packing his bag.

“Yes.” Aren stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Jessie, a cute girl with black hair tied into twin ponytails, smiled at him. She and Aren had been friends for some time. Since they lived in the same direction, they usually walked home together—except on days when her sister had extra classes in the evening.

“Today, I won’t be walking home with you,” Jessie said.

“Why?”

“My sister is taking me shopping. She asked me to wait for her in the corridor.”

“Oh, okay.” Aren nodded.

“I really liked today’s class,” Jessie continued, her eyes sparkling. “I want to be just like what Teacher Sophie taught us—to be righteous, help people, and always do the right thing.”

As they walked toward the corridor, their conversation drifted into random topics.

“Aren, did you know one of our new neighbors' girl is also named Aren? Isn’t that a boy’s name?” Jessie asked curiously.

Aren shook his head. “Actually, my grandfather thought I was a girl when he picked me up, so he named me Aria. But when he found out I was a boy, he changed it to Aren, a gender neutral name.” His face turned slightly red. “He said I was too cute to have a boy’s name.”

Jessie giggled. “Wait… picked you up?” She blinked in confusion. “Are you… an orphan?”

“Yes.” Aren nodded simply.

“But you call him Grandpa?”

“He was the caretaker of the orphanage I belong to. We all called him Grandpa.”

Jessie’s expression softened. “Can I meet him?”

Aren shook his head. “He passed away last year.”

Jessie lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Aren shook his head, gesturing to her not to worry.

After a brief pause, Jessie hesitated before asking, “Then… how do you pay for school fees?”

“This school is the best in the country,” Aren said. “It has everything—from elementary school to college—so students don’t need to transfer anywhere else. They can complete their entire education here.”

Jessie listened intently as they walked.

“And after graduation, students can even get jobs in companies associated with the academy,” Aren continued.

“That sounds amazing.”

“It is. 

“The motive of this school is: Education isn't just about learning to earn money; it's about shaping our character.

“The school offers fee discounts to students from poor families as long as they maintain passing grades. And for orphans like me, it provides completely free education.”

Jessie’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

Aren nodded. “The orphanage I live in and the school are run by the same management. As long as I pass my exams, I can study here without worrying about fees.”

He glanced at Jessie. “I’m not the only one. There are many students like me.”

“Like who?” 

“You know Ian, right?”

Jessie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Ian’s mother couldn’t afford the school fees, but the principal gave him a free seat as a concession.”

“Why?”

“His father was a police officer. He died on duty—a hero,” Aren explained.

Jessie’s expression softened. “I didn’t know that…”

“Also, do you know the group that sits in the middle rows?”

“Yes.”

“They’re orphans too. They are supposedly living in a monastery.”

Jessie looked surprised. “I had no idea. How do you know all this?”

“Grandpa told me,” Aren said with a nostalgic smile. “Back when he was alive, I asked him about my school fees. I didn’t want to be a burden on him.”

Jessie nodded, absorbing the information. “I see… Then, who’s taking care of the orphanage now?”

"An aunt who used to work under Grandpa took over, and one of her friends came to help," Aren explained. "But..." He hesitated.

"What is it?" Jessie tilted her head.

Aren frowned. "They're not like Grandpa. They're mean. They always say bad things. And... 

“They do weird stuff at night. I saw that uncle beat her on the bed, making her scream. But she asks him to beat her more. They are weird.”

“Y-Yeah… That’s weird…”Jessie swallowed, shifting uncomfortably, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“Hmm” Aren nods.

She understood what he was talking about. But she didn’t want to explain.

Breaking the awkward silence, a voice called out, "Jessie! Aren!" 

"Sister!" Jessie ran toward her elder sister, excitement lighting up her face.

Aren followed at a slower pace, "Hello, Sister Airi."

Airi, a striking young woman in her late teens, shared Jessie’s features—only more refined, her loose hair adding to her mature and graceful aura. Aren had always admired her style. She attends the same school but on a different campus.

Airi smiled, but quickly furrowed her brows. "Aren, why do you look so dull?"

She leaned down, pressing a cool palm against his forehead.

"Oh my God, you have a slight fever!"

Aren blinked. "Fever?" He hadn’t even noticed.

"Yes, your skin is warm. Are you feeling okay?"

He gave a small nod. "A little hot, and my eyes burn a bit, but I'm fine."

Airi straightened up, concern etched on her face. "Should I drop you off at your orphanage?"

Aren quickly shook his head, "No need. I’m okay. I can get back on my own."

Airi hesitated but eventually sighed. "Alright, but go straight back and rest. The seasons are changing, so you’re probably feeling it. You should recover by tomorrow."

Her voice softened. "Don’t go out at night, okay? It’s getting too cold, and it might make your fever worse."

Aren’s felt warm in his heart. It wasn’t often that someone fussed over him like this.

He nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Sister Airi."

“Sister, you know he’s an orphan?” Jessie interjected.

“Yes, I found out last time when I gave him a ride on my bicycle.”

“Huh?” Aren suddenly exclaimed, his eyes widening as he caught sight of something.

“What is it, Aren?” Jessie asked.

“I just saw some of the brothers from my orphanage going upstairs with bags,” he said, pointing toward the staircase in the middle of the corridor. “They don’t usually come here. And Ian followed them.”

Aren started to call out, but Airi quickly stopped him after seeing who they were.

“Aren, wait.” Airi raised her voice slightly.

He turned to her, confused.

“Don’t go after them,” Airi said firmly. “If they’re from your orphanage, stay away from them.”

“Why?” Aren asked, frowning.

“They’re doing drugs,” Airi said in a firm yet low voice.

“Drugs?” Aren repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

“Yes. They’re very harmful to health, but that group has started using and distributing them at school recently.”

“They’re good at hiding it, so it is hard to catch them red handed,” she added. “Recently, they’ve even started selling blue film DVDs on campus.”

“What’s a blue film?” Aren tilted his head, confused.

Jessie’s face turned slightly red, while Airi hesitated, realizing she had spoken too freely.

‘He doesn’t know what a blue film is?’ she thought. ‘I heard boys mature later than girls, but is he really that innocent? Or is he a loner? Or just a late bloomer?’

“It’s… a bad kind of video,” she finally said. “You don’t need to know about it now. You’ll understand in a year or two.”

Aren fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Sister, is what they’re doing bad?”

“Yes, very bad,” Airi said firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with them, and neither should you. Just stay away, okay?”

Aren nodded. “Okay.”

“Also, go straight home today. There’s a rabid dog with leprosy in our area, and it’s been attacking people. Don’t wander around, alright?”

“I understand.”

As he watched Jessie and Airi walk away, Aren sank into thought.

‘Sister Airi said those brothers are doing bad things.

‘Teacher Sophie said that if we see someone doing something wrong, we should tell a parent or a teacher…’

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Copyright © [March] [2025] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved. 

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