Chapter 10: The Neighbor

The door to Villa 1 opened with a whisper of displaced air, not the heavy creak of timber Vane was used to.

He stepped inside.

If Oakhaven was a muddy boot, Villa 1 was a glass slipper. The foyer was vast enough to park a carriage in. The floors were polished white marble, veined with gold that pulsed faintly with ambient mana. A chandelier made of floating luminous crystals drifted lazily near the ceiling, casting a soft, shadowless light.

It was quiet. It was the kind of quiet that cost money.

“Welcome home, Lord Vane.”

Vane stopped. He hadn’t heard her approach.

A woman stood by the archway leading to the living quarters. She wore the stark black and white uniform of the Academy staff. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, with grey hair pulled back into a severe bun and posture that rivaled Anastasia’s.

She was human. And judging by the way she stood—weight balanced, eyes tracking his hands—she was a retired professional.

’Rank 2,’ Vane noted. ’Maybe a retired soldier.’

“I am Elara,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I am the head housekeeper for Villa 1. The staff have prepared the master suite. Would you like to inspect the grounds, or would you prefer to dine first?”

Vane looked at her. He looked at the pristine marble under his boots.

“Dine,” Vane said.

“Very good. The chef requires your preferences. Are there any allergies or dietary restrictions we should be aware of? Or perhaps a favorite dish you would like prepared?”

Vane opened his mouth to say ’stew.’

The word caught in his throat.

He remembered the bowl of chicken broth he had tried to feed Helena. He remembered the smell of boiled cabbage and sickness in that dark room. He remembered the way she had looked at him, angry and dying, telling him he was a frog in a well.

Now he was in the clouds. He had climbed out of the well, but the mud was still under his fingernails.

“Lord Vane?” Elara asked gently.

“Something simple,” Vane said. His voice was rougher than he intended. “Meat. Vegetables. And coffee. As black as you can make it.”

“Understood. Dinner will be served on the terrace in thirty minutes.”

Elara bowed and vanished into the depths of the house.

Vane walked through the mansion. He passed a library stocked with books he hadn’t read. He passed a training hall with reinforced walls that hummed with Grade A defensive wards. He passed a bathroom with a tub the size of a small swimming pool.

It was a palace.

And it was a trap.

’Comfort makes you soft,’ Vane thought, running a hand along a silk tapestry. ’It makes you hesitate. Gareth wouldn’t hesitate to burn this down.’

He didn’t unpack. He left his few belongings in his spatial ring. He checked the windows. He checked the lines of sight. He treated the luxury villa like a forward operating base in enemy territory.

He ate dinner on the terrace alone. The steak was perfect. The vegetables were crisp. He tasted none of it.

Night fell over Zenith. The mana-lamps along the bridges flickered to life, painting the Pantheon in soft blues and golds.

Vane walked to the edge of his balcony.

He was at the apex. The wind was thinner here, biting with a chill that cut through his uniform. He looked down at the spiral of floating islands below him.

Villa 2 was dark. Isaac was likely asleep or meditating.

Villa 3 was glowing. Anastasia was likely holding court.

Vane looked further down. To Villa 4.

It was suspended on its own islet, connected to the main spiral by a bridge of solid light. The lights in the house were off, but the terrace was illuminated by the moon.

Someone was there.

Vane narrowed his eyes. He tapped his temple.

[Target Analysis]

Name: Valerica

Rank: 3 (Elite)

Authority: Celestial Heart (EX)

Valerica. The Calamity of Stars.

She was not sleeping. She was training.

She stood in the center of her patio. She wore simple training leathers.

Vane leaned over the railing, watching.

She moved slowly. It looked like a dance performed underwater. She shifted her weight into a lunge, her fist punching out with agonizing slowness. The air around her fist distorted. The light from the mana-lamps bent, curving around her arm like water around a stone.

She wasn’t struggling. She was concentrating.

Vane saw the sweat dripping from her chin. He saw the tremor in her muscles. She wasn’t lifting a weight; she was the weight. She was increasing her own gravitational pull, turning her body into a singularity, and then forcing herself to move through the resistance.

It was like watching someone do katas at the bottom of the ocean.

She finished the form. She brought her hands together and exhaled. The distortion in the air vanished instantly. The crushing pressure lifted.

’Control,’ Vane realized. ’She isn’t a leaking reactor. She’s a reactor running safety drills.’

She was terrifying.

Valerica turned. She looked up.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her golden eyes locked onto Vane’s silhouette on the balcony above.

She didn’t look surprised. She looked like she had known he was there for twenty minutes.

“You are staring, Rank 1,” she called out. Her voice traveled easily across the gap, carried by the thin air.

Vane didn’t flinch. “I am analyzing, Rank 4. That is a heavy routine.”

“It keeps me grounded,” she said. “Literally.”

She walked to the railing of her own balcony. She gripped the metal. The steel groaned, protesting the contact, but it didn’t break. She adjusted her grip, relaxing her hand until the metal stopped complaining.

“Are you enjoying the view from the top?” she asked.

“It is cold,” Vane said. “And it is lonely.”

“Good,” Valerica said. “Lonely is safe. Crowds break too easily.”

She looked at him for a second longer, her gaze heavy, measuring him not by his mana, but by his mass.

“Don’t fall, Vane,” she said. “Gravity is unkind to things that drop.”

She turned and walked back into her villa. The door slid shut behind her.

Vane stayed on the balcony for a long time.

He replayed the interaction in his head. She wasn’t shy. She wasn’t broken. She was a titan walking on eggshells because she didn’t want to make an omelet of the world.

’Intimacy,’ Vane thought.

To copy an Authority, he needed Soul Resonance. He needed to get close enough to touch the trauma that birthed the power.

With Valerica, that wouldn’t be easy. She kept people away not because she hated them, but because she was afraid of hurting them. She was a fortress with the gates welded shut for the safety of the visitors.

’I can’t trick her,’ Vane decided. ’And I can’t overpower her. I have to withstand her.’

He needed to be the one thing she couldn’t break.

Vane turned and went back inside. He didn’t sleep immediately. He sat on the edge of his bed, cycling through his library, preparing his loadout for the morning.

[Passive Equipped: Mental Fortitude (Grade E)]

[Passive Equipped: Pain Nullification (Grade F)]

[Passive Equipped: Courtier’s Mask (Grade F)]

He lay down on the silk sheets. They were too soft. He missed the scratchy wool of Oakhaven.

’Just a bigger cage,’ he reminded himself.

_________________

Morning came with a polite knock on the door.

“Seven hundred hours, Lord Vane,” Elara’s voice came through the wood. “Breakfast is served.”

Vane woke instantly. No grogginess. No hitting snooze. He was up, dressed, and armed in three minutes.

He ate quickly—toast, eggs, black coffee—and stepped out the door.

The morning air was crisp. The sun hit the white stone of the Pantheon, making the floating islands gleam.

Vane walked across the bridge. He reached the central lift platform.

He wasn’t the only one there.

Valerica was waiting by the lift doors. She was back in her uniform, standing perfectly still, her hands clasped behind her back.

Vane stopped next to her.

They didn’t speak. They stood side by side, two monsters in human skin waiting for the elevator.

Vane could feel the gravity rolling off her. It was a subtle tug, like the tide pulling at the sand. It made his knees ache. He tightened his core, using a [Body Reinforcement] skill to stand straight.

Valerica glanced at him. She noticed he wasn’t leaning away.

“You are sturdy,” she noted.

“I grew up in the mud,” Vane said. “You learn to plant your feet.”

The lift arrived with a chime. The doors slid open.

They stepped inside.

The ride down was silent, but it wasn’t empty. It was the silence of two people who knew exactly what the other was hiding.

When the doors opened at the main campus level, the noise of the student body rushed in. Hundreds of students were milling about, heading to class.

They stopped when they saw who was in the lift.

Vane stepped out. He adjusted his cuffs.

Valerica stepped out beside him.

The crowd parted. They looked at the Rank 1 imposter and the Rank 4 anomaly.

Vane smiled. He didn’t look at the students. He looked at the towering structure of the Lecture Hall in the distance.

“After you, Rank 4,” Vane said.

“No,” Valerica said, her voice calm and heavy as a mountain. “You are the Representative. You lead.”

Vane walked. Valerica fell into step beside him, her presence clearing the path better than any threat could.

Class was in session.

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