Chapter 78: Friends

She learned that Roberto was deceitful, romantic, daring, arrogant — a little like her — with a touch of luxury.

His aura betrayed him with an honesty that was almost insulting.

Rich, radiant, carefully controlled shades pulsed around him like an outrageously expensive cologne you noticed before he even entered a room. There was something both seductive and unstable in his colors: warm tones that naturally inspired trust... crossed by sharper, more calculating glints that revealed Roberto's very particular habit of always staying one step ahead of everyone else.

Deceitful, yes.

Not necessarily malicious.

But entirely capable of lying with a charming smile without even considering it a real problem.

The romanticism, however, surprised her more.

Not the naive, soft kind of romance. No. Something grander. More theatrical. Roberto seemed to love the same way he lived: excessively. Expensive gifts, spectacular gestures, dangerously sincere promises delivered with an intensity capable of making anyone even slightly emotionally fragile lose all common sense.

Daring too.

Obviously.

All you had to do was watch him talk to anyone as though they had known each other forever, flirt shamelessly, provoke teachers, or throw himself into absurd situations with the insolent confidence of people convinced they would always land on their feet.

And arrogant...

Again, no surprise there.

But what deeply irritated Blanche was the instinctive comparison that immediately forced itself into her mind.

A little like her.

That same tendency to hide certain flaws behind sarcasm, confidence, or a kind of elegant detachment. That way of wanting to stay in control of her image, her emotions, the way other people perceived her.

With a touch of luxury.

Because Roberto managed to turn even his flaws into high-end accessories.

Nothing new.

And yet, now that she could literally see all of it floating around him in shifting colors, Blanche suddenly understood why he attracted so many people despite his unbearable personality at times.

Roberto gave the impression of being an incredibly entertaining disaster to experience up close.

Rémi radiated a twilight aura edged in white: joy of living, creativity, innocence.

The colors around him seemed fluid, almost alive, like a summer sky just before nightfall. Deep, vibrant shades blended with brighter, luminous flashes, giving the whole thing something warm and profoundly sincere. Unlike many other auras Blanche had observed since unlocking her ability, Rémi's did not feel controlled or contradictory.

It was simply... honest.

That realization hit her suddenly, with unexpected tenderness. Rémi possessed that rare ability to feel things fully without trying to protect himself behind complicated masks. When he laughed, he truly laughed. When he got excited about a project or some ridiculous idea, his entire being seemed to light up with an almost childlike intensity.

And that kind of innocence was dangerous in a world like theirs.

Because it made people want to protect him.

His creativity, too, practically overflowed from his aura. Blanche had the impression that his mind never truly stopped working, leaping from one idea to another with chaotic but luminous energy. Even standing still, Rémi gave off that constant sense of movement unique to people incapable of surviving inside anything too rigid or dull.

His girlfriend, meanwhile, embodied femininity, gentleness, elegance...

Her aura immediately contrasted with Rémi's while matching it perfectly, like two different melodies played on the same rhythm. The colors surrounding her were softer, more harmonious, threaded with delicate nuances that instinctively evoked calm, grace, and that quiet warmth certain people carried without anyone ever being able to explain exactly why their presence felt so soothing.

Even the way she moved seemed to prolong that impression.

Every gesture was fluid, natural, almost weightless.

And yet...

...a dull ache lingered beneath it all.

Blanche perceived it as a darker note buried deep beneath the other colors, something discreet yet permanent, impossible to fully conceal. Not an explosive or dramatic suffering. More like an old, silent sadness that had become so familiar it was now part of her entirely.

The kind of pain one learns to carry elegantly.

The kind that never truly disappears, even when the smiles are genuine.

Blanche looked away slightly.

Because with this new ability, she was beginning to understand something deeply unsettling:

Everyone was hiding something.

Blanche frowned slightly. Olivia was sometimes sad, yes, but what kind of wound left such a deep mark on the soul itself?

Moved, she felt a wave of empathy.

Arthur, meanwhile, radiated musical creativity, vitality, and profound calm: confidence incarnate.

His aura vibrated differently from the others.

Where some seemed chaotic, contradictory, or weighed down by hidden tension, Arthur's possessed an almost harmonious fluidity. Colors unfolded around him in rich, luminous shades that immediately conveyed a sense of constant movement, like a silent melody floating just beneath the surface of reality.

Blanche immediately had the strange impression that his aura... sang.

The musical creativity was everywhere within it. Not just through vivid or inspired flashes, but in the way all the colors seemed to naturally harmonize with one another. Nothing clashed. Nothing truly fought against the rest. Even his energy seemed guided by something deeply instinctive, as though Arthur moved through life following an inner music only he could hear.

Vitality overflowed from him with almost solar obviousness.

Not nervous or noisy agitation like some people. No. Something steadier. Warmer. A healthy, grounded energy that gave the impression he would still be capable of laughing in the middle of an absolute catastrophe before somehow improvising a solution.

And at the heart of it all remained that deep calm.

That was probably what surprised Blanche most.

Arthur often seemed lighthearted, spontaneous, sometimes even slightly awkward in social situations. Yet his aura revealed something else beneath that approachable exterior: a rare inner stability. A quiet peace with himself that very few people their age genuinely possessed.

Confidence incarnate.

Not arrogance.

Not the need to crush others or constantly prove his worth.

Just that quiet certainty that he had the right to exist exactly as he was.

And suddenly, Blanche understood why his presence felt so comforting despite his constant energy.

Arthur barely played a role at all.

Eva was more complex: change, communication, a hint of confidence... but also something else, darker.