Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

The living room and dining room had always been viewed as communal spaces to him. The kitchen was firmly his, but given Benny let him muck around in the clubroom's one, he could let it go.

But his bedroom?

He got to Lily before she reached the door, brushing past her. The door was open, and his room came into view. It was as modest as he remembered, with a twin bed, a dresser, a small desk, and a wooden chair. A part of his brain noted that the bed from his dorm room would take up half the space. He had been hoping to either steal the current one or have Olivia order him one, but it was apparent it wouldn't fit when considering his many trophies.

Trophies like the dagger Basem was inspecting.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but," Cal said, an ugly feeling building in his stomach. "Considering whose house we're in, you should really put that down. For all you know, a single nick could kill you."

It wouldn't. The dagger was as mundane as could be. It pained him to have to lean on her reputation, but he'd spent years doing it, mostly unwilling, so it was a dull ache.

"And I thought the rest of the place was weird," Lily commented from behind him. There was heat in her voice, but the sight of the room seemed to distract her. She peered in without crossing the threshold. "I would have assumed it was a storage room if not for the bed."

Storage room? Lily, evidently, had no taste.

"It's from Anis' forges," Basem said, gliding a finger across the groove of the curved blade. "My cousins may be boorish, but they make exquisite arms. Though not the finest, this quality still surpasses what they would export."

Cal was torn. Basem was touching his stuff. At the same time, he was praising his stuff. Did one negate the other?

Nope.

Cal's hand lashed out, his fingers clamping down on the man's wrist. He stared into the man's gray eyes. There was a measure of surprise in there, but it faded, and in its place was realization. Whatever it was, it disoriented the man, and Cal pried the dagger from his fingers.

"You struck me," Basem said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You struck me unconscious."

This was why it was better to not leave witnesses.

"I think your memory is foggy," Cal said leadingly. "You exhausted yourself fighting the demon and passed out."

Basem's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth. Cal deduced that was not the action of a man about to agree with him and preemptively spoke.

"Quick question. The Titan of Shirai, the guy you're hoping to replace, he's a strong dude, right? He probably wants his successor to be made of the same stuff. How do you think he'd react if one of the people he was looking at got knocked out in a single punch?"

Any reasonable person would look at the chain of events and give Basem a pass for going down so easily. However, if there was one thing being in the Empire hammered into him, it was that perceptions mattered. A display of weakness was ammunition, and from the tightening of Basem's jaw, the man knew that well.

"I believe he would be delighted," Basem said easily, giving a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "A direct assault on a diplomat of Shirai, the Empire would have to pay deeply to resolve that debt."

Cal raised the blade. Generally, curved blades were single-edged. This one wasn't, and the peculiarity of it was what made him nab it in the first place. He made sure to hold Basem's stare as he tossed it up, letting it spin in the air before catching it by the handle.

Basem's eyes turned into slits as Cal continued to toss the blade up and down.

It wasn't an impressive feat. Everyone in the cabin had the reaction speed to juggle multiple blades if they pleased.

"I see your meaning," Basem said, eyeing the gleaming blade. "This is a dangerous game you are playing."

The words caused Cal to let out a small chuckle. He'd survived worse than the ire of a Free City.

"Who's playing?" he asked, holding the blade out. "If I did hit you, and it was known, then Shirai profits. However, you are not the city itself. Reducing yourself to a bargaining chip means that's just what you'll be. The Titan will use the incident to benefit the city, and your rivals will use it to weaken your claim."

Cal had no idea what type of relationship Basem had with the City Lord or who his rivals might be. He was simply taking an educated guess and running with it.

There was no immediate reply, and the Adjunctor took his time considering the threat.

"Young friend," Basem offered after some time, extending his open palms. "Let's forget this affair and focus on our victory. Defeating a demon of that magnitude is no small achievement."

Highlighting their previous cooperation was clever; it further emphasized that they were in the same boat. They might have been able to end it there, but Cal had a sweetener.

"It was through your efforts," Cal skewed reality. "I merely dealt the finishing blow."

Offloading most of the credit to Basem had always been the plan. Doing so now had the bonus of smoothing things over.

"It appears my lesson on polishing silverware was lost on you," Basem said ruefully. "Be that as it may, I accept your adulation."

Cal made no secret of his opinion on the usage of adulation, and he snorted while pointing at the door with the dagger.

"Cool. Now go explore elsewhere. Better yet, get some rest. I don't like the idea of staying here long."

Basem raised an eyebrow at him, shaking his head.

"To presume to give me commands, you take your duties seriously."

Cal didn't read into the statement, choosing to let it pass as Basem left him in the sanctity of his room. He ran a hand through his matted hair. Usually, he only visited the cabin right before or after a mission, not while he was meant to be in the middle of one.

"You did it again," Lily said from the hallway. She was leaning against the doorframe, leveling a critical gaze at him.

He'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Did what?" he inquired innocently, having only the vaguest idea of what she was speaking about specifically.

"That thing where you manage to simultaneously be competent and incompetent, to ridiculous extremes."

He would have refuted that if it didn't hit so close to home.

"I see you succeeded," Benny's voice came from further in the hallway, and the boy stopped next to Lily, addressing her next. "I expected you to be more obstinate in your pursuit."

Lily didn't disagree with that statement, waving a hand toward the room.

"I was stuck thinking about this, and by the time I remembered, there were other things on my mind."

Benny was fast on the uptake, nodding in understanding.

"Like our classmate nearly admitting to striking a diplomat," he said, not giving any indication he was bothered by that information. "I overheard."

How was that comparable to her declaring her intentions to kill said diplomat? Her brain worked weird, and Cal wasn't about to try figuring it out now.

"For the record," he defended. "If that happened, it would have been meant to be a harmless bit of payback before we reinforced you guys. How would I have known he was actually tapped out? Theoretically, of course."

The deception was paper-thin, but it didn't have to pass under intense scrutiny. There were only two people who knew the absolute truth of the matter, and they had already reached an accord.

Neither of them looked to want to pick at the issue further. Instead, they opted to further evaluate the room. Apprehension leaked out of the pair, and Cal's discomfort grew.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

He began to second-guess his assertion that nothing here could be tied to him. Still, no matter how many times he turned it over in his head, the closest he could get were the clothes that would happen to fit him. Which was mitigated by them being his size by Cal's standards. Nobles' standards were remarkably higher.

"You two are starting to worry me," Cal initiated, not wanting to stew in silence. "What's up?"

Benny broke first, cautiously entering the room. He approached the bed, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow in contemplation.

"This bed is small. Fit for a child, not an adult."

Cal wanted to say it wasn't that small, but after experiencing the luxury of a king-size… yeah, it was a bit cozy.

"I noticed that too," Lily added, following after Benny. Her gaze drifted to the wall, where various trophies had been nailed. "These don't fit either. I only got a short look, but everything in the living room oozed power." She picked up a fang the size of a pinky. "This stuff doesn't. Most of it is junk."

She wasn't wrong. By any metric, some of what he collected was junk.

That was okay. The only person they had to hold meaning for was himself.

It wasn't the first time he'd told himself that, yet this time it came off as hollow.

"There are no records of her having or fostering a child," Benny said gravely. "Evidence to the contrary, this must be the room of one of the others. No one else in their ranks could survive under these conditions, not for a prolonged stay, as this room suggests."

He was right about that.

"Check the doorframe," Lily said, still holding his fang. "The notches. Someone was measuring their height."

Cal did not panic, but he did internally swear at that. The silver lining was that he had stopped measuring around the time Millie showed up. He didn't want to appear that childish.

"Could they have been protected as Ferguson aided us?"

The laughter didn't leave his throat. Which was good because it was not a joyous laugh.

"I'm guessing you have a better idea of what she's capable of than I do," Lily pointed out nervously. "But does the same person credited with the death of the emperor's late uncle and his family come off as the nurturing type to you?"

No, she decidedly wasn't. The closest she'd come was leaving her kills around, though that was more due to indifference than anything else.

"This is troubling," Benny said, backing up from the bed. "I'll ensure His Highness sends a report to the Emperor. The Empire may soon be facing a new threat."

"A new monster," Lily muttered, a dash of fear in her voice as she looked at the wall filled with his trophies. "You saw the living room, right? Everything in there must have either belonged to someone she killed or been something she killed."

The mention of her name was always enough to drive people away from him. Would the same cycle repeat itself? He was too much of a coward to find out.

What he could do was nudge the scale.

"They're not the same," Cal said, pushing back. "I can't speak for the artifacts—or the junk, as you call it—but the remains of the beasts, the ones out there, all seem to be at about the same level. They would have been among the strongest of their kind when they lived. That fang in your hand isn't." He singled out several other pieces with his finger. "Neither are those. It's a pattern of increasing strength. This isn't someone gloating; it's someone measuring their progress."

He paused, steadying his breath. They were both looking at him, but it was with more curiosity than rejection.

"I used to do the same thing," he explained, realizing he appeared too invested. "I had to hunt a lot growing up, as a matter of survival. It was tough and at times felt hopeless, like I was spinning my wheels in place. So I started taking things from what few victories I had—keepsakes. They reminded me I wasn't stuck."

They were tangible proof that he existed, and that one day, he'd escape the cabin. He didn't really need them anymore, but old habits died hard. The spear wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet could attest to that.

"What I'm trying to say is, if that's different from hers, then the rest of it might be as well."

Cal wouldn't deny taking enjoyment from some of his kills, but he didn't wantonly sow death. He didn't kill someone at the slightest hint they might do something bad. He killed if they already had, if there was irrefutable proof they would, or if their existence posed a greater loss.

It was a slippery slope, and things were often murkier than he liked. However, he tried his best, and that had to count for something.

That stave against the bedpost? It was taken from a cultist who sacrificed his wife and daughters. The gloves? That one had summoned a demon under an elder care facility.

He wasn't sure if what he said got through to them, but Lily gently put the fang back in its place, seeming conflicted over the action.

"Speculation aside, this increases the odds of someone coming by," Benny reasoned. "His Highness and Ferguson need half a day to safely recover their reserves. It is longer than I'm now comfortable with, but relying on the relic would be unwise at this juncture. Be prepared to leave as soon as they're ready."

Cal gave a wave of acceptance, uncaring about the details. Lily agreed as well, but she had a disturbing request.

"Can I borrow that thing?" She pointed at Benny's bracer. "I need to talk to Cal." His pleading eyes weren't heeded by the man, and Benny removed it from his arm, passing it to the girl.

"Shut the door," she said as Benny left. He turned with suspicion in his eyes, but that didn't stop him from completing her request.

Cal stared at the girl as if she were a wild animal about to lash out at him. She fiddled with the device before holding it out to him.

"Do you mind?"

He did, but he had a foreboding feeling this wasn't a conversation either of them would want overheard, and so he took the bracer, injecting it with magic and having the bubble of sound magic expand around them.

Cal anticipated a barrage of questions. Lily defied logic and turned on her heel, taking a few steps to the bed. She fell forward, collapsing on the mattress.

His eye twitched at the sight. He was going to need to replace those sheets again.

There was a muffled groan from the pillow, and then she rolled to her side, facing him with tired eyes.

"Look, Cal." He was getting used to her using his name. "I'm tired, and your story is full of holes. You're strong, but you're not fight-a-category-five-demon strong—or at least, you shouldn't be. Even with your justification, it makes no sense."

That was what she was on about? After his spiel, he anticipated worse. Could she not reconcile him with the person he spoke of?

Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing?

He didn't trust himself to judge accurately and focused on what she said.

This was something he could deal with. A simple lie, one he'd already thought of, and this could all go away.

Her gaze sharpened as he opened his oddly parched mouth, and no words came out.

"You don't owe me an explanation—I know that—but after everything that's happened recently, I'd like one. Please?"

He almost recoiled at that last word. To buy himself time, he walked over to the desk and pulled out the chair, taking a seat.

This wasn't an impromptu confrontation. He'd known it was coming, and yet actually facing it made him feel like the walls were closing in on him. Cal set his hand on the desk, bracing himself. Being in his room was an unexpected boon; it provided him much-needed support.

Lying had delivered him this far, and there was little reason to change his approach.

Sitting in his room, with those expectant, if almost forlorn, eyes on him. Thoughts started to swirl in his head.

Cal had fucked up. He realized that now. He'd gotten somewhat attached to his life in the Empire. Worse than that, he'd done it with the people as well.

He liked messing around in the clubroom, relaxing on the couch while Alice typed away, and being forced to do community service in the garden.

It was a problem. It was a massive problem. Callum Ardere wasn't a real person. He was a construct created to resolve a budding crisis, nothing more, nothing less.

Cal, however, was a person. A person with options.

Options like telling the truth.

The full truth wasn't an option. She already said what she thought of that, and he wasn't ready to face it. However, he would show more of his hand, if only to prevent disappointing her.

"I heal well," he started unsteadily, gaining more conviction as he spoke. "Better than you're thinking. I could tear my heart out and be fine in a few seconds." He almost made to demonstrate it, stopping after undoing a few buttons of his shirt. "I–" his voice hitched. "The point is, I can walk away from pretty much anything. Before you ask," he rushed, despite there being no reason to. "I don't know why it happens. It just does."

He had to take a breath after closing his eyes for a moment and realizing how many ways this could go wrong. This wasn't a decision that he should have made in the spur of the moment. He should have thought through all the ramifications before opening his damn mouth.

"You're serious," Lily said softly, causing him to open his eyes. She wasn't looking directly at him, having shifted her sight to the ceiling while resting an arm over her forehead. "I've heard about the Hands having strong enough augmentation to regrow body parts, but not in seconds." A memory seemed to come to her, and her voice went up a pitch. "Wait, I felt your magic disappear during the fight. I thought… well, it doesn't matter what I thought."

She thought he had died, and she would be right about it. They settled into an uneasy silence, both contemplating in their own ways.

"Ancestors," Lily swore, sitting up abruptly. "Am I the only one you've told?"

He thought about the question, realizing the answer was yes. Those who knew found out either via seeing him in action or reading his file.

Cal nodded, the action feeling oddly light.

"Good," she said quickly, her hands fidgeting. "Keep it that way. Don't tell a single soul. Does Alice— no, you just said you didn't tell anyone." She sucked in air, releasing it as a hiss. "I don't know what to do with this. Just don't tell anyone. That includes the idiots outside. Especially the idiots outside. And everyone at the Academy. And— just don't tell anyone." The words tumbled out of her mouth in short succession, and she groaned, falling back onto the bed again. "This explains so much of—" she paused to weakly lift an arm and wave it in his direction. "You."

The stiffness left him, and he found himself reclining back in his chair. She was panicking, but it wasn't directed at him; it was directed for him. Lily was concerned about what might happen if people found out about his strange constitution.

She was right to.

Millie had foreseen the same problem. It was why she widely announced to the powers that be that his mother was the Fourth. No one in their right mind would touch her kid.

Clearly, they underestimated the number of people in positions of power who weren't in their right minds.

It also neatly answered any questions around the origin of his ability. Someone who survived in the womb of the personification of death wouldn't fall easily.

"I know," Cal mused, injecting some much-needed levity. "I'm amazing."

She huffed at that, giving him an unimpressed stare.

"And a genius?" she asked, matching his energy.

Cal needed to make sure his phone was on hand once she realized the 'truth' of that statement.

"I got the power working," he argued lightheartedly. "Didn't I?"

Her fist was raised in victory, and she gave a monotone cheer.

"We have lights now. Hurray."

Cal stood up, stretching his hands behind his back. The motions felt smooth, and though he knew he was still lying to her, to everyone, he selfishly allowed himself to be content.

"You missed the kitchen on the way in," he stated factually, before turning to the closet. Cal opened it with a frown before trying for the other door in the room. "A kitchen means running water. Running water means—"

He'd barely opened the door to the bathroom when her head perked up.

"A shower," she said, finishing the sentence for him. "A hot shower. Dibs."

With energy he didn't know she still possessed, Lily zipped into the room, shutting it behind her.

Huh. As the host, he supposed he'd allow her that much.