Natalia nodded, her tactical mind already working through scenarios. Then she glanced at my desk, where Bartholomew the Immortal Snail was slowly consuming a piece of lettuce in his absurdly expensive terrarium.
"We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Going to war with the VHC."
"Not war. Infiltration. Information gathering. We’re going to smile, train, and play the part of model students while we dig up every buried secret they don’t want found." I pulled her closer. "And when we have enough ammunition..."
"We burn the whole rotten system down and build something better from the ashes."
"Now you’re thinking like a revolutionary."
She laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was bright and genuine and completely at odds with the sedition we were plotting. "My friends would die if they could see me now. Little Miss Perfect, the girl who color-codes her notes and never breaks a rule, planning to investigate the VHC."
"You broke plenty of rules with me."
"That’s different. You’re worth it." She kissed my neck. "They’re just corrupt bastards who need to be taken down a peg."
Fair distinction.
A notification buzzed on my phone. I glanced at it.
Emi: Can’t sleep! Too excited for tomorrow! Are you excited??? (ᗒᗨᗕ)
Natalia saw it too. Her expression shifted, the warmth draining out. "She really likes you."
"I know."
"You’re going to break her heart."
"Maybe. Or maybe she becomes something more. A true believer. Someone who chooses us with full knowledge of what we’re building."
"That’s optimistic."
I typed back a response. Excited and nervous. Big day tomorrow. Get some rest, Emi. You earned your spot.
Sent.
Natalia watched me, her face unreadable. "Do you actually like her? Or is she just another quest objective?"
The question was a trap. We both knew it.
"I like that she’s genuine. Sweet. Uncomplicated." I met her eyes. "But she’s not you. No one is you."
"Smooth."
"True." I pulled her down beside me on the bed. "You’re my Keystone, Natalia. The foundation of everything I’m building. Emi is... potential. A maybe. But you’re a certainty."
She softened, curling against my side. "You’re getting better at this whole ’reassuring your psychotic girlfriend’ thing."
"Practice makes perfect."
We lay there in comfortable silence. Outside, New Vein City glittered in the darkness, a million lights hiding a million secrets.
"Satori?"
"Mm?"
"When we win. When we’re standing at the top and everyone who underestimated us is looking up from the dirt..." She traced idle patterns on my chest. "What do you actually want? Power? Fame? Revenge?"
Good question.
What did I want?
Kaelen Leone had wanted survival. Then respect. Then fear.
The original Satori had wanted... what? To not be invisible anymore?
And this version, this chimera?
"I want autonomy." The word felt right. "I want to be strong enough that no one, not the VHC, not the gods, not fate itself, can force me into a role I didn’t choose. I want to write my own story, not dance to someone else’s script."
"Even if that script comes from literal gods?"
I thought of Nel. Apollo. The Audience.
"Especially then."
Natalia smiled. "Good answer." She yawned, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up. "Wake me up at five. We should leave early, beat the rush to the ferry terminal."
"Bossy."
"You like it."
"Unfortunately."
She was asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.
The pieces were starting to come together. The VHC’s interest in my father. My mother’s warnings. The monitoring bracelet. The suspicious timing of my viral moment. Seraphina Vance’s cryptic comments at the Gala.
They knew something about me.
Or they suspected.
Either way, I was being watched. Studied. Used.
And the worst part? I didn’t even know what I was yet. The System, the Gacha, the reincarnation, all of it was opaque. Nel gave me just enough to operate, never the full picture.
I was a weapon that didn’t know its own caliber.
[Brooding so loud I can hear it from here,] Nel whispered in my mind. [Getting cold feet, Protagonist?]
Just thinking.
[Questions lead to existential dread. Existential dread is terrible for ratings.]
Why now? I asked. Why make my story go viral right when Veronica Cabana is trying to expose the VHC? If Seraphina wanted me suppressed, she could’ve just... not invited me to the Gala. Not let me test. Made me disappear quietly.
[Maybe she can’t,] Nel said, and there was something almost thoughtful in her tone. [You’re not the only one playing a game with incomplete information, Satori. Even gods have rules. Even Presidents have leashes.]
What does that mean?
[It means you’re more interesting than you realize. And interest, in this world, is both a blessing and a curse.]
Before I could press further, Nel went silent.
Typical.
I looked down at Natalia, my beautiful, ambitious, psychotic queen. She’d followed me into Hell without hesitation. Was ready to go to war with forces that could erase us both.
And tomorrow, we’d step onto that island and start building an empire from the scraps.
Bartholomew finished his lettuce, leaving a glistening trail across a decorative rock.
"At least someone’s having a simple night," I muttered.
The snail, immortal and utterly unbothered by the cosmic drama surrounding its existence, began its slow journey toward a piece of cucumber.
Lucky bastard.
I checked my phone one last time.
Emi had sent a goodnight message. A photo of her stuffed bear wearing a tiny NVA uniform she’d apparently sewn herself.
Mr. Patches is ready for the academy! See you tomorrow, Satori! ♡
Natalia stirred in her sleep, mumbling something that sounded like my name.
I closed my eyes and let the MYSTICISM trait work its magic, feeling the exhaustion drain away as my body repaired itself at supernatural speed.
Six hours until we left.
Five hours and fifty-nine minutes until Natalia woke up and demanded we go another round before the "dry spell" of dorm life began.
I set a mental timer.
Smiled.
And let the King of the Glass House enjoy his last night of privacy.