One Day. A Beautiful Day — Chapter 12 Part 1

Two weeks later, in the school courtyard, during the celebration and pride exercise that takes place twice a year, more than five thousand students — between ten and nineteen years old — formed an army of gray statues beneath the leaden sky. 

Everyone wore the seamless, cutting-edge military uniform, in a dark gray tone like burned iron.

Lined up in perfect blocks, divided by age and merit, they breathed at the same time. The immaculate columns drew a rigid geometry across the concrete floor. Among them were Cora, Vans, Cors, Dru, Kan, Daime—in her wheelchair, aligned in the row, her shoulders as firm as everyone else's—Ana, Tycho, and Ceres, with her solitary, unreadable gaze.

In the background, the enormous black-and-dark-gray flag of Mother Ceres fluttered. Before it stood the raised platform, with officers and teachers, medals glittering in the cold morning.

The Ceres anthem echoed through the loudspeakers, a deep, crushing melody that seemed to penetrate the flesh.

Military tanks on wheels slowly crossed the courtyard. Their metal doors opened to release the students who had undergone correction.

Theo walked among them.

His uniform immaculate, his head held high.

The star torn from his lapel left an emptiness on his chest—but his eyes smiled, even though his face dared not.

A silent relief passed through the blocks.

His friends followed him only with their eyes: motionless, without moving a muscle, refusing to betray themselves through emotion.

Ceres breathed deeply.

The turmoil inside her was suffocating, but on the outside… the same expression as always. Cold. Unreachable.

The speeches began.

The master of ceremonies recited names, merits, and victories of the school team. Medals were raised and presented one by one.

Ceres and Theo climbed onto the platform together.

Shoulder to shoulder.

So close that their fingers almost touched—but neither dared make contact.

The tension between them was pure spark.

A pleasure born from anticipation, from the forbidden, from what came before.

“Ceres. Medal of Loyalty. Top student. Leader of the academic year, in the name of Mother Ceres.”

She stepped forward, received the medal, and gave a slight bow.

“Theo. Medal of Loyalty. Top student. Leader of the academic year, in the name of Mother Ceres.”

He repeated the gesture. When he returned to her side, for an instant, he felt the warmth of her arm brush against his uniform.

The master raised his hands, and then came the climax of the ceremony.

At the unanimous command, the five thousand students, in perfect synchronization, raised their right hands into the air—firmly—while their left hands remained open at their sides, standing upright: a ritual gesture symbolizing neutrality and devotion.

A single voice cut across the sky:

“Long live Mother Ceres, who cares for us, educates us, feeds us, and devours us!”

The echo was monstrous.

And then… silence.

A full minute.

A silence so profound that it sent chills down the spine.

A tremor passed through everyone—a shiver that was not fear, but reverence.

At that moment, a monstrous bolt of lightning tore across the gray sky with a dry roar.

No one moved.

Perfect synchronization.

A fine rain began to fall, almost translucent, wetting their serene, breathless faces and cold expressions.

Some let tears run down their faces alongside the water, never looking away.

Others were overwhelmed from within by emotion.

No one moved.

Then, when the minute ended, the sky opened as though the clouds had been torn apart in an act of mercy.

A golden ray of sunlight illuminated the blocks of students, like a beacon descending from the heavens.

A rainbow blossomed above them, arc after arc, crossing the flag and covering the children of Ceres in an impossible spectacle.

Like the miracle of the orange ray of marigolds that, years earlier, had painted fifteen kilometers of flowers in a single dawn.

Mother smiled at them—even though no one dared smile back.

The school corridors still echoed with the sound of the siren.

The students marched back toward their classrooms, scattered across the courtyard in small groups.

Still dressed in their impeccable ceremonial uniforms, heavy cloaks over their shoulders, the warmth of the fine rain slowly drying.

At the center of the courtyard, Theo and Ceres remained. One facing the other.

Ceres smiled with half-closed eyes—that intense blue that carried the sky itself, cruel and serene at the same time.

Theo felt his throat tighten: he wanted to live forever inside that smile.

And she, for a second, forgot the city, the tower, the anthem, the lines—and smiled only for him.

That was when Daime passed them, pushing her wheelchair alone, with her mocking air and sharp tongue.

She looked at the two of them, raised an eyebrow, and shot back:

“Go to your room and fuck, you sickos! You can't do that here in the courtyard!”

Some students laughed under their breath, embarrassed. Others pretended not to hear.

Everyone knew: nothing was as dangerous as laughing at the wrong time in front of Mother Ceres.

Ceres did not take her eyes off Theo.

She let out a low, venomous little laugh. Then she murmured only to him:

“That fucking crippled bastard has always been like this, hasn't he?”

Theo took a second to process it—and then laughed.

It wasn't just him.

Ceres was laughing too now, genuinely.

They laughed together. Without masks, without uniforms, without Mother Ceres.

Just two young people laughing at life and at the city that devoured its children.

Farther away, a guard pretended not to notice.

The sky was still gray, with the rainbow slowly disappearing behind the tower, seeming to silently approve.

The dormitories were separate, of course. Like everything in Ceres.

Each student in their own block, rows of bunk beds, silence guarded by boots in the corridor.

Discipline did not sleep.

And neither did desire.

Not everyone always obeyed.

Later that night, the gymnasium was empty.

The lights were off; only the emergency lights cast a cold bluish tone across the polished floor.

Theo was already waiting, leaning against the railing of the bleachers. His heart beating louder than the sound of his own boots.

She appeared.

Her uniform immaculate. Her cloak already abandoned somewhere.

Ceres.

Her name was a sweet poison pulsing through his mind.

Without saying anything, she walked toward him. Neither of them smiled.

Her blue eyes burned.

In the half-light, she seemed less human—the very embodiment of the city, the tower, the power that devoured everything.

Theo felt a knot in his throat. Hatred and desire mingled within him.

When she approached, Ceres grabbed him by the collar.

Neither asked for anything.

Neither hesitated.

They pulled each other toward one another.

They gave themselves over to the intensity between them, like two enemies who loved each other and could no longer pretend.

They rolled across the cold floor.

They stumbled against the edge of the pool.

And there, with cold water splashing against the edge and the gymnasium as their silent witness, they crossed a boundary neither of them could take back.

The intimate encounter continued in the darkness, intense and charged with desire and anger.

Afterward, they remained in silence, side by side on the cold floor.

The dark pool reflected the metallic ceiling.

Nothing existed beyond them.

Theo propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her—the pale face, the blue eyes still shining beneath the faint light.

He breathed deeply, trying to decipher the turmoil inside him.

Ceres looked back at him, serene and predatory, as though she already knew everything that would be said.

“I…” Theo began, his voice hoarse. “I imagined Mother, yes… when… when it happened the first time. It was how I endured it. How I took revenge.”

Ceres raised an eyebrow but did not look away. He continued:

“I imagined the whole city… the tower… the anthem… the flag crushing me. And you were her. I used you for that.”

Silence.

Ceres closed her eyes for a moment and let out a low, almost mocking laugh.

“And you think… that offends me?” She opened her eyes, now even bluer, fixed upon him. “I don't care, Theo. Imagine whoever you want… as long as, in the end, I'm the one here.”

The smile she gave him, almost imperceptible, chilled and inflamed him at the same time.

“As long as you always… desire me,” she added, her voice low and cutting.

Theo felt a weight leave his chest, but it wasn't relief. It was simply another kind of weight—deeper, more hers. And then he slowly shook his head, as though acknowledging a sweet defeat.

“But it wasn't Mother this time,” he said. “Not anymore. It was you. You were the one who helped me in detention. You, with those eyes… that seem to carry the whole sky inside them. That seem… meant only for me.”

Ceres did not react immediately. She simply held his gaze, as though studying him, hunting down every fear and every desire within him at the same time.

“Do you know what I do with souls, Theo?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

He swallowed hard.

“I devour them all.”

Then she raised her hand and touched his face with the tips of her cold fingers. Her blue eyes flashed like the blade of a dagger.

“All of them. Except yours,” she said, one corner of her mouth curling into a subtle smile. “I only devour those who are strangers to me.”

Theo felt his heart leap painfully in his chest. He stared at her for a while longer before lowering himself and resting his forehead against hers.

“Then never forget me, Ceres. Never.”

She slowly closed her eyes, accepting the weight of his words, and answered softly:

“I haven't forgotten anything so far. Why would I forget you?”

And in that moment, even on the cold, damp floor beneath the iron roof of the empty gymnasium, Theo felt as though the entire world existed right there.

Only in her.

The gymnasium was now in absolute silence, except for the slow sound of water dripping from the edge of the pool. The air was still cold and sharp, but between them the temperature seemed feverish.

Theo sat up first, adjusting his wrinkled, damp shirt against his chest. His uniform still clung to his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to recover the impeccable posture Mother Ceres demanded from her children.

Ceres remained lying down for a few more seconds, staring at the gray ceiling before finally raising her torso with feline calm. She smoothed the skirt of her uniform, gathered her hair into a hurried bun, and finally stood completely upright—slightly more dignified, and far more dangerous.

Neither spoke as they gathered their belongings.

Theo noticed, from the corners of his eyes, the way she ran her hands over her uniform to smooth it out, as though nothing had happened there minutes before. She was perfect at it—hiding everything while still leaving that blue fire burning in her eyes, visible only to him.

Before they crossed the gymnasium door and returned to the brightly lit school corridors, Theo stopped. He placed a light hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, serious, but did not pull away.

“No one can know,” he said quietly, so only she could hear.

Ceres looked at him for a full second, as though measuring him inside and out, before answering dryly:

“I don't tell anyone. I never have.”

Theo nodded, withdrawing his hand. Then they crossed the metal door together and were swallowed by the impersonal brightness of the corridor.

Outside, the distant sound of the siren announced the next class. Students began filling the corridors, marching in blocks, their boots striking the floor in rhythmic unison.

Some greeted them with respectful, almost reverent looks—after all, Theo and Ceres were leaders in everyone's eyes.

They marched side by side for several meters, heads held high, serious as though nothing connected them beyond the uniform.

But among the cold, immaculate gazes, one detail betrayed the secret: Ceres's eyes still carried that predatory gleam, blue like a winter sky. And in Theo's eyes was a silent desire to return to the gymnasium and remain there forever.

When they reached the final corner before the boys' dormitory, she moved away from him without saying a word.

Only one last glance over her shoulder—quick—before disappearing through another door.

And alone, Theo felt that never before in his life had he been so close to hell—or to paradise.

That night, after everything, Ceres slept a deep and sweet sleep, like one she had not experienced in a long time.

The dream came softly, in pastel tones—a warm and hazy world, as though painted in watercolor. She was back at the school, but there was no harshness, no marching or commands—only a clear, pale-blue sky flowing through the corridors. The walls shimmered as though made of frosted glass.

And in the center of the courtyard, seated on a simple throne covered by a white veil, Mother Ceres called to her with a smile. Dressed entirely in white, from head to toe, framed by shining crystals floating around her face and sparkling like stars. She wore a majestic golden halo. And her eyes… her eyes were identical to Ceres's. Blue—so blue that they seemed to hold not only the sky, but the entire universe.

Ceres approached shyly. Mother Ceres opened her arms and she, without hesitation, sat in her lap like a beloved daughter. She felt gentle fingers stroking her hair, brushing it backward with a maternal tenderness that nearly made her cry with relief.

Mother Ceres's voice sounded warm and low in her ear:

“Theo… he is good for you, my daughter.”

A knot formed in Ceres's throat upon hearing that. But in the dream there was no shame. There was only peace—and an impossible comfort, lying in the lap of that divine mother, breathing in her ethereal fragrance.

The setting then began to change almost imperceptibly. The white around her gradually became tinged with gold, like a shimmering dawn. Now she walked through the school corridors—or perhaps floated, light and soft, like a feather carried by the wind.

When she reached the training field, she saw Theo in the distance, crouched down and tying his cleats. He raised his face and smiled at her. It was a serene smile, one that demanded nothing and asked for nothing. A smile that simply said: I'm here.

The setting changed once again. Now it was the empty gymnasium. Ceres stopped at the doorway, feeling her anxiety rise, second by second. She did not dare enter, but neither did she retreat. She knew Theo was inside. She didn't need to see him to know.

And that certainty was what destroyed and saved her at the same time: the greatest pleasure was not finding him, nor touching him. The greatest pleasure was that moment before anything began. The knowledge that someone, with no obligation whatsoever, was waiting for her. That he was there. For her. Only for her.

The torture of waiting was delicious and melancholy—a lazy ache that made her entire body want to slowly collapse. A gentle fear of losing him, and at the same time the joy of knowing that he was waiting for her.

For me. For me. For me.

Like a natural instinct of her body—an ancient training—to love someone and never say it aloud.

When she woke, the morning was already burning through the dormitory window. Ceres opened her eyes, feeling her mouth bitter and her heart heavy.

It had only been a dream.

And the disappointment of returning to reality was so great that she once again felt small, empty, and alone.

Ceres walked through the empty dormitory, the echoes of rhythmic footsteps filling the silence. Her hand smoothed the edge of her uniform as though trying to keep herself centered—but inside… inside there was a sweet tremor. It was difficult to explain to herself why everything now seemed calm. As though, finally, something had gone right. As though, this time, there was nothing to correct, nothing to pretend to be, nothing to hide.

And that terrified her.

Because nothing had ever been like this before. Nothing had ever been given to her freely. There was always a test after pleasure. Always a thorn after the flower field. Mother Ceres had taught her that from an early age: every harvest costs sweat. Every medal costs scraped knees and dry eyes.

So even confident—and she was, indeed, confident—something interrupted her from within. A small shadow whispered that perhaps this peace would not last. That perhaps the pleasant feeling Theo gave her—that feeling of being wanted by him in a way unlike the way Mother Ceres devoured her children—was merely a beautiful interval before the next storm.

And that was real. Reality had no pastel tones, she remembered, as she watched her hand touch the cold wood of the gymnasium door where they had last met. Reality smelled of iron, was the color of lead, and tasted of swallowed tears.

Even so… what Theo did to her was so different. Theo did not devour her like an ungrateful child whom Mother Ceres had to educate and punish. Theo devoured her because he wanted her. And only because of that.

For a moment, Ceres closed her eyes and imagined his smile again—and her own, the one that appeared only because of him—and felt a shiver: fear of losing him, fear of ruining it, fear of being too happy for it to last.

And still, she whispered to herself:

“Let me be devoured, by Mother Ceres and by him. But please… let him remain well. Let him continue to be… mine.”

And for a brief moment, she felt as though the universe—that harsh universe without pastel colors—had granted her a small reprieve.

Ceres breathed deeply, slowly opened her eyes, and before turning over to sleep, whispered once more—more to herself than to any god or mother:

“Just a little longer… just a little more. Let him be mine.”

She turned her face toward the dormitory window.

And there, on the horizon, silhouetted against the gray sky of the early dawn that was already beginning to brighten, stood the colossal outline of Mother Ceres's central tower—rigid, imposing, inevitable.

It seemed to be watching her even from that distance, like a deity that did not need to approach in order to exert its dominion.

Ceres stared at it for a moment, feeling her stomach twist with a mixture of devotion and fear.

The black silhouette against the first orange tones of dawn seemed to answer her whisper with a silent warning:

Nothing escapes Mother. Not even you.

And yet, even so, Ceres's chest warmed with a small, sweet rebellion—for as long as he was there, for as long as Theo was still hers, it was worth being devoured afterward.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep once more, still feeling the weight of Mother Ceres's gaze upon her from the horizon.