Seraphina had taken it upon herself to keep everyone in line, though her stern words fell flat whenever Ethan muttered something under his breath that made her ears twitch.
Dorian stood apart but not distant, watching the flow of the crowd with the stillness of a wolf waiting for a signal.
It was messy. Chaotic. Alive.
Merlin let it wash over him, the chatter, the laughter, the way life seemed to knot all of them together without effort. He wasn’t used to this kind of quiet joy, not anymore.
The afternoon drifted into evening. The group wandered as one, weaving through food stalls, peeking into armories, pausing at a small bookshop where Sophia Ashford had once assigned Nathan homework they all collectively hated.
At one point Nathan convinced half of them into a casual sparring ring set up by a traveling merchant. Wooden swords, blunted spears, practice staves, it was chaos from the start.
Six against Merlin, all laughter and mock cries of outrage when he dodged with nothing but a flicker of wind at his heels.
"Unfair!" Nathan shouted, tumbling to the dirt as Merlin tapped his shoulder with the flat of a practice blade.
"You’re the one who said ’all on him,’" Adrian reminded him dryly from the sidelines.
"Traitor!" Nathan yelled, but even he was laughing as he rolled to his feet.
Merlin only shook his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "You’ll have to try harder than that."
The spar ended with everyone breathless and smiling, even Ethan who insisted it was "a waste of energy."
By the time lanterns flickered to life along the pathways, they found themselves back at the academy’s outer gardens. Fireflies traced faint arcs through the air, mingling with the warm glow of lamps.
Nathan sprawled in the grass, hands folded behind his head, while Liliana braided flowers into a chain and dropped it over his face to shut him up.
Seraphina sat upright beside her, still trying to discuss exams no one wanted to think about. Ethan leaned against a tree, eyes half-lidded, listening without joining.
Adrian tossed pebbles into the fountain, each one skipping twice before sinking. Dorian lingered in shadow, silent as ever but present.
Merlin found himself sitting beside Elara again, shoulders brushing whenever either of them shifted. She didn’t move away.
For a while, they just watched the group. Then, softly, Elara said, "It suits you."
Merlin blinked, turning. "What does?"
Her eyes flicked toward Nathan’s laughter, Victoria’s teasing, Liliana’s easy joy. "...This. Belonging."
The words cut deeper than she probably meant them to. Merlin’s throat tightened, but he masked it with a crooked smirk. "I’ll take that as a compliment."
A pause. Then, with a rare hint of playfulness, she added, "Don’t get used to it."
Merlin chuckled. "...Too late."
Their gazes lingered on each other, longer than either intended. The laughter of the group dimmed into background noise, the glow of lanterns outlining the sharp grace of her features. He couldn’t help himself, leaning slightly closer, voice low.
"You know," he murmured, "you’re different when it’s just me."
Her ears twitched, the faintest pink brushing their tips. "...You assume too much."
"Maybe," he said. His smirk softened. "Or maybe I just notice things."
Her eyes darted away, uncharacteristically flustered. But she didn’t move back.
The night stretched on, the group gradually dispersing as lanterns burned lower. Eventually only Merlin and Elara remained by the fountain, the quiet hum of water filling the silence between them.
Elara finally rose, smoothing her cloak. "Tomorrow," she said simply.
Merlin tilted his head. "...Tomorrow."
She hesitated, just for a heartbeat, violet eyes catching his in the lamplight. Then she turned, walking down the garden path, her silver hair trailing like liquid moonlight.
Merlin stayed where he was for a long moment, watching until she vanished from sight. His chest was tight, his thoughts tangled, but for the first time in a long time... he didn’t mind.
Because tomorrow felt like something worth waiting for. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel⟡fire.net
The city streets were quiet when Merlin finally slipped through them, cutting the distance in less than a blink with a twist of wind and space.
His boots landed soft on the apartment balcony railing, the night breeze tugging at his hair as he looked down at the familiar glow inside.
For all the grandeur of the academy and the strange comfort of being surrounded by classmates, this place, their place, was still what felt closest to "home."
He eased the door open and stepped inside.
The smell hit him first. Grease, tomato, melted cheese, and something vaguely spicy. Then came the sound, Victoria humming off-key to herself from the couch.
She was sprawled sideways across it, one leg propped over the armrest, holding a greasy cardboard box on her lap. A slice of pizza drooped precariously in her hand as she looked up, cheeks puffed with food.
"Oh." She swallowed hurriedly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You’re alive."
Merlin arched an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him. "Were you expecting otherwise?"
"After hanging out with Nathan all day? Yeah." She smirked, lifting another slice like a trophy. "That kid’s a walking hazard."
Merlin couldn’t help it, he laughed. Really laughed. His shoulders eased as he crossed the room, dropping into the opposite armchair. "You’re not wrong."
Victoria shoved the box toward him with her foot. "Eat. You look like you haven’t had anything since breakfast."
He took a slice, the cheese stretching before snapping. The taste was... imperfect, sloppy, too much salt in the crust, but somehow it grounded him more than anything else had all day.
He leaned back, chewing slowly, watching his sister lick sauce off her thumb like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
"This is what you did while I was gone?" he asked between bites.
"What?" She grinned, unashamed. "Research. I’m testing the limits of how many pizza places we can get through before the semester starts again."
Merlin shook his head. "Scientific work, clearly."
"Groundbreaking." She winked. "Don’t worry, I’ll publish my results."
For a while, the room was quiet except for the sound of them eating. The city hummed faintly outside, carriages rolling on cobbles, a distant vendor calling out late-night prices.
Finally, Merlin set down his crust, his gaze softening. "...It’s good to be back here."
Victoria glanced at him, her smirk fading into something gentler. "Yeah," she said after a beat. "It’s good having you back, Merl."
He blinked at the nickname, but didn’t argue.
They sat in the silence of home, the kind that didn’t need filling. No academy eyes, no tests, no battles. Just pizza grease and the comfort of knowing someone was there when the world stopped demanding.
Merlin leaned back into the armchair, the last crust gone and the faint hum of the city seeping in through the half-open window. Victoria had slumped sideways on the couch now, groaning dramatically as if the weight of too much pizza had rendered her immobile.
"You’re carrying me to bed if I pass out here," she muttered, face half-buried in a pillow.
Merlin smirked, pulling his phone from his pocket. "That’s your own fault."
He hadn’t touched the device much since his return from... everything. A mix of recovery, exhaustion, and maybe a bit of avoidance had left it neglected at the bottom of his bag.
As the screen flickered awake, light washing over his face, Merlin’s casual amusement thinned into something sharper.
The notification bar was a graveyard of missed pings. Emails, voicemails, messages stacked into the hundreds. At the top, a recurring name kept appearing: Invoke Industries.
Victoria cracked an eye open. "What?"
Merlin ignored her for the moment, thumbing through the backlog. Meeting reminders. Updates. Financial reports. Shareholder invitations. The company’s sleek logo, an angular spear-shaped "I"—stared back at him again and again.
He’d almost forgotten.
The time he’d first arrived here, lost, disoriented, barely believing he’d actually been thrown into the pages of his favorite novel, he’d acted on instinct.
This was the world, before, Invoke was still the small, overlooked manufacturer of weapons and combat gear. In the story, by the time the second act unfolded, Invoke would rise meteorically, rivaling the greatest guilds and private corporations.
Future knowledge. His advantage.
He’d invested nearly everything he had, nine hundred thousand Lonar scraped together by selling off whatever valuables he’d landed with, converting what he could, pulling every trick he knew. Enough to buy 8% of the company.
And then, with the labyrinth, the gods, the simulation... he’d let it slip from his mind completely.
Now the screen glowed with reminders of what that reckless gamble had become.
His inbox highlighted one unread line in particular:
[Board of Shareholders Meeting – Mandatory Attendance]
Merlin exhaled slowly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching. "...I might’ve screwed up."
Victoria sat up, hair sticking out wildly, a smear of tomato sauce still on her sleeve. "You? What happened?"
He turned the phone so she could see.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "You, you’re telling me you just forgot that you own a piece of a weapons company?"
"Not just a piece." Merlin’s voice was dry. "Eight percent."
She gawked. "Eight... Merl, that’s—do you even know how much that’s worth now?!"
"I’m starting to get an idea."
He swiped through the financial charts, watching the line climb, steep and steady. His early buy-in had multiplied more than he could calculate in his head. Enough to buy estates, fleets, half the damn city.