“Come on Caen!” Sam ran ahead like a child, despite the crowded station.

  “Slow down, the store won’t go anywhere.” Despite his words, the fifteen years old couldn’t help but smile.

  She puffed her cheeks at him. “Come on, we haven’t gone on a date in weeks! Ever since you moved to your grandpa’s pce.”

  Caen still couldn’t believe how quick things went after that lunch. Three days and he already had all his belongings in pce. He even settled into a new routine of helping the old man at his garage. It proved to be an endless source of learning and practice for his mechanical skills.

  “We have the whole day to check the new merch. Why hurry?”

  Her entire face lit up at that.

  She slowed down and grabbed at his hand, waving it around at the same rhythm as her hums. Caen stopped for a moment to look at a news broadcast about the test attack by the Children of the Stars.

  “…so far there’s been nineteen confirmed casualties. PSB also confirmed at least thirty infected, with no news how many more could perish by the end of the week…”

  Sam pulled at his arm, a stern harshness to her look. “Hey, can we forget about all the bad things, just for a bit? Please?”

  Caen gnced at the screen one more time, before giving her hand a squeeze. “Sure.”

  They went through what felt a thousand different stores. At each one Sam stared at something for a long time, while biting her lip. Whenever Caen asked if she wanted to get it, she always cimed it would be a waste of money. Even when he said he would pay for it. The worst came to a rge shark plushie. She even checked her wallet to see how much she had on her.

  “Thanks for the company, Cae.” She took a sip of her coffee, face contorted into a grimace.

  “You sure you don’t want the parfait?” He looked at the menu, confirming that was the cheapest drink aside from water. “You know I…”

  “It’s fine, really.” She gripped at the cup with both hands. “I just spent too much on the tickets for the show, it’s all.”

  Sam had saved every cent she could so get those tickets for her favorite band. They emuted the general idea of K-Pop, back when Korea still existed. That had been all she talked about for months. And now that the show was around the corner, Caen felt warm for seeing her so excited for it.

  But watching her restraining herself from enjoying herself hurt.

  Caen thought of the shark keychain he bought, secured at his pocket. The moment to give it to her had come? But considering how she acted all day, she might dislike it. What would he do if she did? And why did he felt so hot all of a sudden.

  A figure moved through the square, steps steady and deliberate. The crowd shifted around them, yet they didn’t adjust or react. Their grip on the bag tight, like a lifeline.

  Or a detonator.

  Caen’s stomach clenched, instincts fshing warnings his brain hadn’t caught up to yet. He gnced at the nearest exits. Too far. If something happened…

  Then the figure lifted their head, and Caen saw their eyes. Not panic, nor focus.

  Devotion.

  “We need to go.” Caen grabbed at her arm, startling Sam. “Now!”

  At that very moment, the strange figure pulled at something inside the back, a yell marking the action. “May you all rise above mortal flesh!”

  Before a massive explosion took pce.

  Caen wouldn’t see how it obliterated the figure. A pilr of crystal formed in its pce, one he would be very familiar one day. He didn’t notice how a cloud of bck dust spread out from it, covering the entire square and all the streets around it.

  At that moment, he jumped at Sam, to shield her with his body. Nothing else mattered. Even when the first inhale brought the dust into his lungs, he checked on her.

  Her fingers dug into his arm, nails pressing deep, but not from pain—from panic. She didn’t scream, Hell, couldn’t even breath. Just stared at him.

  A tear rolled down her cheek, except it cked the crity of water.

  Instead, it had a crimson hue.

  He wanted to yell for help, but his throat had closed off. Unable to breath, he dropped on top of her, two wet steams across his cheeks. Even with all that, he held her into his arms, praying she would be okay.

  If he met his end, he felt some peace.

  For at least she wouldn’t be alone in those final moments.

  -----

  Caen came out of the cold shower refreshed. Leopold’s body had adapted well to the exercise routine and had shown signs of improvement. A light jog no longer left his lungs cwing for air. Callouses started to form on his knuckles from all bag work. Strengthened hands meant fewer injuries and better grip on weapons.

  He looked at himself on the mirror, right at the golden eyes greeting him. He remembered a note from the games about golden and silver eyes being signs of nobility. Something about higher essence control or something. Even without that, he had to admit they held some beauty, like jeweled stones.

  Then, with a blink, he jumped back, back smmed against the wall. For on top of the gold, he saw hints of purple.

  The same hints he had in his own world.

  “What the heck?” Leopold came out of the spider he had used to train his possession. “Wow, you pale as fuck! What happened?”

  Caen blinked hard, breath stalled in his throat. No. That couldn’t be. That didn’t exist here. It shouldn’t exist here. He stepped forward, head tilted to catch the light, test different angles. Only gold. He exhaled, jaw tightened. Exhaustion, in all likeness. “Nothing. Guess I’m too tired. Seeing things and all.”

  The ghost grinned, arms behind his head. “Told ya waking up before damn wasn’t healthy.”

  Caen analyzed the mirror one st time, making sure only pure gold stared back at him. “Yeah… sure.”

  Back at the common room he found Seraphina with crochet needles in hand. She hummed as she turned the emerald yawn into a blouse. “Oh, fancy seeing you here.” Caen gave her a nod and prepared to make his way to the kitchen. “You know, I noticed you’ve been avoiding me.”

  He stopped right at the door outside. A dozen different deflections to the affirmation came to mind. He turned to find her silver eyes on him, hands still at work. It felt fascinating how she could split her attention like that. “Would you socialize with the spies surveilling you?”

  “Oh, darling, calling us spies is so uncharitable. We prefer ‘watchful guardians.’ Doesn’t that sound more fttering?”

  She crossed her legs, the motion slow, deliberate. A calcuted move. Not quite improper, but enough fish for reactions. A distraction, whether intentional or not. “Besides, you are such a fascinating one. Can’t bme a girl from being curious.”

  “Then I’m pleased to keep you guessing, my dy.” With a bow to the upper body, Caen bid his farewell. At the kitchen, he started to look for the lunch leftovers Lucien had made.

  He almost jumped back when he noticed she had sneaked besides him. “I must say, you are quite the enigma.” She leaned forward, hand over his chest. “From all I read and heard on you, I expected something else. An uncultured brute, perhaps an obnoxious manchild. Voice booming to hide the pile of insecurities underneath the mask.”

  “If only I could take over, just for a second…” Leopold looked around, only to stop when he felt Caen’s quick gre at him. “Come on! I can train my new power and show this bitch what’s what! At the same time!”

  “You know you are proving her right in some way, right?”

  Leopold gave him a very offensive gesture in response.

  Caen kept his breath steady, though his muscles tensed. He didn’t flinch, wouldn’t give her that that. Instead, he met her gaze with the patience of a man holding back a knife. Then pushed her hand aside with a casual move.

  “Well, I had a lot of thinking done. Soul searching and all that.” He pced the food on a pte. “One must notice his misdeeds if he hopes to improve, don’t you think?”

  “I see.” She moved some of her crimson hair behind her ear. “How about we py a little game? I ask you a question, you answer honestly and then you do the same.” She raised her index finger, touching its tip at his mouth. “You do that, I stop bothering you for today.”

  Refusing outright risked further provocation. She enjoyed needling people, and outright defiance would only encourage her. A calcuted concession, however, could make her lose interest faster. “Alright, go ahead.”

  “What’s your hobby?” Of all things he thought she could inquire, that didn’t get included. “Not the things you did to try and fail to impress our gentry peers. One the real Leopold enjoyed doing.”

  Caen felt his mouth dry up. He knew the game had some trivia on the hidden likes and dislikes of the characters. But Leopold didn’t get included on those, having his death happen at the first title. “Any help here?”

  Leopold’s usual sharp tongue dulled, his spectral form shifting to a darker hue. Silence stretched long enough to feel unnatural. “I didn’t have one.”

  Caen blinked. No sarcastic deflection. No mispced bravado. Only that quiet confession. “What do you mean you didn’t have one?”

  He once again offered his back to Caen. “Fuck man, I was too busy with trying to impress my father and get money to save Sofia. Heck, the closest thing I can think of is visiting temples, I guess?”

  Caen kept his pondering face one, as if he considered the question. “I did not expect to learn that from you.”

  “Gd to know you aren’t all-knowing.” He turned at him with a grin. “Guess I just enjoyed the stained-gsses.”

  With a sigh, Caen turned towards her. “I enjoy visiting temples to admire the art inside.”

  Seraphina crossed her arms, an unknowable smile on dispy. “I thought I said to be honest, didn’t I?”

  Turning to Leopold only had the spirit give him a “I have nothing else” shrug. Caen couldn’t read her expression as she kept watch over him. After a few moments, he took a deep breath before he talked again. “I like to taste new types of alcohol.”

  Her lips curled, a glint on the silver of her eyes. “Oh, now I see it.” She eased onto the table, legs crossed like a queen indulging a court jester. “I can bring some exquisite ones so we could share.” She leaned closer, voice dipping into something quieter. A whisper shared in the dark. “If you’d like that, of course.”

  Caen studied her for a moment. A simple offer, yet made to feel like a transaction. His fingers tapped against the counter. “Depends. You pnning on poisoning me, or loosening my lips?”

  She got out of the table in a fluid motion, turning away. “Neither.” A gaze over the shoulder, gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer. “Few know my true self, so I make a habit of befriending the ones who do.”

  “I haven’t asked my question.”

  She turned back with a mischievous smile. “My dear, I believe you just did.” She lifted a hand, kissed her palm, and blew the gesture toward him. One final wink before vanishing through the door.

  Leopold ughed as if he had witnessed the greatest joke in history. “Bloody Wastes, she may be a bitch, but she’s a smart one! Or it’s just you that’s too dumb!”

  Caen exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. Not sure if it from frustration or something else burning under his skin. “You really lucky I can’t snap your neck right now.”

  Underneath his companion, a shiver. Then, a presence.

  Lucien stood by the door, watching.

  Caen’s gripped the back of the chair. Reflexes had him aware of each possible weapon in the room. “How long you’ve been there?”

  Lucien’s gaze flickered toward the door Seraphina had just left through. “From the start.” His voice held no emotion. A contrast to his usual heartwarming self. “Vaedra wants to see you. Says it’s important.”

  A cold weight settled in Caen’s gut. Something had gone wrong.

  He abandoned his untouched dinner without a word and followed him out.

  -----

  “Leave” Vaedra’s tone left no room for argument. Lucien gave a polite nod, but with slow steps. As if reluctant to go.

  Vaedra’s hazel eyes, sharp as cut steel, locked onto him. No warmth or curiosity—nothing but cold scrutiny. “All the names you gave me…” She tapped a rhythmic beat on her temple. “Useless.”

  Caen felt his fingers go cold, stomach dropping. He kept his face solid, betraying nothing. “In what way?”

  She tossed a tablet onto the table. He picked it up and forced his breathing to stay even as he skimmed through the files. The names he gave her. Of the lower ranked members of the Cult of Kharatos. The ones responsible for the initial conflicts of the first game.

  Dead. Missing. Vanished into the void.

  All within days of Vaedra’s first move.

  Caen set the tablet down. He met her gaze, searching for any trace of emotion.

  Nothing.

  “It seems the enemy knows we are after them.” His words came out controlled, level. Couldn’t afford to show his inner turmoil.

  She tapped at the temple in a constant rhythm. “Seems that way, yes.”

  She knew something. Or suspected it. Unclear which could be worse.

  “And you think I had something to do with it.”

  Leopold groaned at that. “Why can’t our life be easy just for fucking once?”

  Vaedra leaned back in her chair, not rexed—waiting. Calcuted, measured.

  Caen’s eyes flicked to her hips. Shortswords. One for each hand. She didn’t prepare for a fight—she expected one.

  “My work is to think all possibilities.” Despite the casual tone, it felt like she pointed a load gun at his head.

  His retort came into the form of the cim he had no motive to do so. Why provide false intel when a simple question from the headmaster would caught any lie? Didn’t sound very smart in his opinion. All spoken with a calcuted indifference.

  Vaedra’s response? To cim him not being in handcuffs had to do with the ck of logic. Before she pointed he hadn’t provided his side of the bargain.

  “Fine.” Caen forced his voice to not tremble. “I can give you more names. Big ones, the type that can’t disappear so easy.”

  No change in demeanor from her. “Why didn’t you give those earlier?”

  “So that you could provide I had an ‘accident’? No thanks.” The words hung between them. A subtle test. See if she reacts. See if she twitches.

  Nothing.

  “Fine,” she said at st. “Give me the names. But I suggest you exercise… caution.”

  Not a threat. A warning.

  Once dismissed, his mind raced with possibilities. Could a mole hide among the Executors?

  Nothing in the game suggested that, but they only became relevant ter. When Kai Garnier got to his second year.

  Could his knowledge have holes?

  If so… how big? And how many more blunders would it take for her to lose patience?

  A sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

  “HEY!” Leopold. Yelling at his ear for the better part of a minute. “What’s going on? I thought you were supposed to know your shit?”

  A sting to his side. “Not now, Leopold.”

  “Look, maybe things aren’t the same as…”

  “I said NOT NOW!”

  The words came out harder than intended. His footsteps quickened, as if putting distance between him and his own thoughts.

  For once, Leopold didn’t argue. Caen didn’t know if he should feel relief or worry.