"Feron?!"
Jaden's voice shot up the moment he saw me standing there. Smiling like an idiot.
"Your business—did you finish it? I was worried about you yesterday!"
Before I could even answer, he yanked me inside like I was about to run off again.
I let him pull me in. My legs kinda moved on their own. "Yeah, finished. Thought I'd swing by and, I dunno… rant?"
Yeah. Rant. I hate that I use that word now.
It's from my old life. Wagner Empire's weird translation of the word "Tucao." Sounds like someone choking. But it stuck with me. I guess I'm clingy like that. Some part of me refuses to let go. That part's loud today.
"Tu-cow?" Jaden tried it out, tongue tripping over the syllables like a drunk man in a temple, "Never heard of that."
"Hard to explain," I said. "Just… imagine me being cranky and opinionated about everything. That's the vibe."
Jaden grinned. "Okay. Rant."
Close enough.
He'd been feeding that rat again. His weirdly oversized Bayman mouse. Still calls it "Kefka." Weird name for a rodent with eyes like the void.
He dragged me up to the attic. It smelled like hay, metal, and Jaden. He waved me to sit wherever I wanted. Kept tossing chunks of white bread into the cage like he was some kind of rodent priest.
Same bread I had for lunch. Tasted like regret.
I waited till he was done babying his pet, then started unloading my nonsense. Not everything, obviously. I left out the Black Mamba. That part would send him into full-on chaos mode. He'd probably drag me to his place and try to feed it biscuits or something equally suicidal.
So I focused on the church stuff. How I tracked down the one who complained. How good it felt.
"This is too dangerous!"
His face twisted halfway through. He kept it turned from me like it would soften the words.
"Yeah," I admitted. "It was."
"I told you—Church of the Saltmother. Never trust 'em." Jaden's voice grew sharper. "Collins still wants to join them. Even before you—"
He stopped himself.
I knew what he wanted to say. Didn't need to hear it.
"I'm not gonna be 'before' anything anymore," I muttered.
He glanced at me, lips tight. Said nothing. Just looked away again. Probably biting down his usual Collins-argument speech.
He's always fighting Collins over that. I didn't want to be in the middle. Still didn't.
"Which gym did you learn to fight in before?" I asked suddenly.
"Alva Fighting Hall. Why?"
I tapped my chest. The one with the fresh hole. "Figured I should learn how to not get stabbed."
Jaden blinked. Then nodded. "Yeah. That's fair."
We talked a lot more after that. He even tried convincing me to spar. I laughed it off. There's a difference between 'learning' and 'being used as a floor mop.'
I left around four. Walked to No. 3, Kento Street, Rolo District. Alva Fighting Hall. The place looked… tired. Like it had been standing since before regrets were invented.
Big building. Real estate that felt expensive. Gray stone. Deep yellow stains between the bricks. Rust of the steam age. The kind of place that smelled of iron and old sweat.
Jaden said this place had over 40 years of history. Almost as old as the Wagon Empire itself. Supposedly even Rida couldn't last three rounds here.
I probably wouldn't last thirty seconds.
I stepped up to the door.
Just as I was about to push it open—bam. Door flies open. I staggered back.
Nearly smacked into someone.
A girl.
She didn't look like the usual girls around here. None of that flowing dress and lace nonsense. She wore dark red. Breeches. Leather boots laced tight up her calves. A long sword slung loose on her waist like it belonged there.
She looked... sharp.
Not in the 'she'll cut you' way. Well, maybe that too. But more like... precise.
Maybe twenty-one? Twenty-two? Pale blonde hair in a high ponytail. Not styled. Just practical. Blue eyes. Long lashes. Rosy lips.
Beautiful, sure.
But fresh.
Not like perfume. More like mint and rain and steel. Clean lines. Not trying too hard.
"Excuse me," she said as she passed. Her voice was calm. Even.
Not airy. Not fake. Just... real.
I blinked. Nodded. "It's fine."
She nodded back. Just once. And kept walking. The air stirred when she passed.
Smelled like herbs.
Was she hurt?
I stared after her, then shook my head. Entered the gym. Still thinking about her scent.
Regretted not saying anything more. Or maybe not. I don't know.
What I didn't see—because I'm not that lucky—was that she turned back.
Frowned.
Whispered something.
Something like: "Why is he here?"
Like she knew me.
Inside was not what I expected.
No receptionist. No desk. Just... space.
A big open room. First floor stripped bare. Just some closed doors at the back.
Left side was all props. Heavy stuff. Stone and black iron. Tools meant to test your bones. Maybe your will.
Right side had wood floors. A fence separating it like it was scared of the weights.
In that space: one massive man, and two young guys. All standing there like someone hit pause.
The man—holy hell. He was a tree. Muscles crammed into coarse fabric. Arms like logs. Thighs stuffed into trousers that looked ready to surrender.
He made me feel like a balloon animal.
Same gold hair as the girl. Family?
I didn't walk in. Not yet. Stayed near the door. Watched.
"No."
The man—probably Alva—crossed his arms. His voice carried like thunder. My chest vibrated a little.
"Mr. Alvin, please. I really want to learn."
One of the boys. His tone serious. His face... weird. Glossy? Pretty? Something off.
The other chimed in. "We'll pay, Mr. Alvin."
"No."
He said it again. Harder.
The two looked at each other. Gave up. Walked toward the exit. Didn't even look at me. One of them muttered something under his breath. Swear words from Wagner. I caught them.
Fancy clothes. Rich brats? Maybe nobles. Or just spoiled.
So it's not about money here.
Huh.
"YOU."
The big man's shout cracked in my ear.
I blinked. Looked up.
He was pointing at me.
No—gesturing. Telling me to come over.
I did.
Because of course I did.
Because I never learn.