“Coming in.”
I study the intake of sound, catching wind of footsteps and the rustle of paper bags. The tip-tap of feet approach, gradually stopping just short of my left as a soft thud rests on the workbench in front.
Without moving my focus, I study the two paper bags, “Food?”
“Skincare. Also, don’t reply in single words; you’re not a barbarian, Lucius.”
“Is it a nutritious substance that currently takes residence within your two paper bags?”
“Being verbose isn’t any better!”
My assistant flicks me on the head. As is natural during a state of total concentration, however, I pay it little heed, continuing to tinker with the tool in front of me; the sound of hot iron, quivering mana crystals and metal colliding persisting.
“So, how’s the project going?”
Again, I push Morgana’s existence to the back of my mind, a tentative effort that renders my concentration unperturbed. After safeguarding my focus, I then reach out with my right hand, clutching a mana crystal barehanded, and with just enough caution─put it in a compartment in the gauntlet’s palm before clasping it shut with rudimentary locks.
“80% done.” I reply, more so to myself than Morgana, “Should be ready for extensive prototype testing in a few days.”
I extend my left hand awkwardly. Fidgeting through unsmoothed metal crevices, I manage to fit everything above my wrist inside my prototype gauntlet. The device is heavy, unwieldy, and a predecessor in all sense of the word. It feels like the most imprecise of movements will scratch my beautiful skin and looks like a bunch of steel plates welded together.
“Here comes the big reveal.”
The nuances of my statement aren’t lost on Morgana. Stepping back two paces, she fixates her eyes on the target in front of me, a small wood block just at the end of my workbench.
“Pienta.”
My incantation gives way to magic. Information, transmitted from the vessels in my brain to the nerves in my body, runs to my arm before extending all the way into the gauntlet and all of a sudden─
BOOM!
─Explodes.
“Ah, well.”
By the end of my spell, is a less than climatic explosion, localised entirely within a secured compartment that’s both unseen and unfelt. Thankfully so, might I add.
“It is what it is.”
My free right hand goes to my face, pulling up a pair of protective goggles.
“You’ll get there,” Morgana says in turn, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m aware.”
Her lingering gaze becomes a lukewarm comfort.
“Anyways. Do you know how big the video has gotten?”
A lukewarm comfort, immediately destroyed, that is.
“Did you just lure me out of my focus by appealing to my ego and then immediately change the conversation topic?”
“Yes.” She confirms, without way for subtlety, “Now look.”
Morgana brings forth her phone, presenting its screen a hands-length away. A miniaturised video can be seen playing, a cinematic presentation of my fight with Ceylica, and beneath it, a number.
“15,800,000 views, Lucius.”
“It’ll increase in due time.”
“Of course, and along with it, Mortius Industries stock price, right?”
My expression brightens. “Naturally. After all, I managed to hit three different demographics in one. The Aoelian head families love me now, given that I proved my magical capabilities, defence contractors will want to buy my products having seen my drones, and even the Faerin, no doubt having seen one of their own pummel a demon, would look to investing in my company.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I feel my mood heighten at the prospect of money, widening my grin in the process. But, for what it’s worth, Morgana doesn’t reply in kind. Her expression, now darkened, scourges my being for recompense as if implying some inherent degree of wrongdoing.
“Not happening.”
Morgana raises a brow. An aura that precedes a bad business deal, emitting.
“Ooh, what’s not happening, Lucius?”
“An apology, or whatever sentiment your emotions demand.”
“Ah. Are my womanly sensibilities infringing on your mancave time?”
I lace my fingers.
“Mhm.”
“Are my irrational, hormone-driven actions the cause of deep-rooted sadness and irritation?”
“Well, I don’t think I’d be that affected, but at least, ever so mildly annoyed, yes.”
Morgana raises her arms, “You callous little turd…” she says, a harsh bite underpinning her voice, “I’ll just have to discipline you in Guillaume’s stead!”
Argh!
“You’ll bruise my face like that!”
“Good, it’s what you deserve, you little nerd!”
My sociopathic assistant refuses to let my face go, pinching at my cheeks and attempting to stretch it into paste.
“Stop this fondling, you deviant!”
“If deviancy’s what’s needed to educate you, then I’ll gladly veer off the righteous path of morality!”
“UWAHHHHHHHHH!”
Logic escapes Morgana like water through a hole. Mutual attempts at making paste out of each other’s faces, less than virtuous screams, and insults that’d make a Crilandese monk blush come out as we bicker.
A minute passes this way. The duel of pinching relinquishing only when both our faces are tomato red. It’s now, during this post-heart-pumping duel to the death, that Morgana stares at me, face exerting some modicum of an almost genuine expectation. The sight is one I’m not all too used to. It’s the type that demands a real answer, something beyond a playful and witty remark or a passing ‘next time’ in reply.
I’d be lying if I said this change in tone isn’t sudden.
But I’d be lying if I said it isn’t warranted.
Five days have passed since, after all.
Five days where I’ve kept quiet, biding my time to explain all that I planned.
“Well,” I mumble, my voice raspy and my hand reaching for a wrench to fidget.
“Lucius─”
Her tone suggests finality. Punctual and to the point, without need to say anything more.
“At its core, operation Snac-Line was an attempt to overthrow Ceylica’s monopoly of the school market. Something I accomplished by flooding the market using external suppliers. I then delivered goods via drones.”
“And the fight with Ceylica.”
“Right,” I reply, nodding, ready to explain. “I needed to lure her to an area where I’d be prepared, so I researched her interests, and setup a movie screening on a specific time and date I knew she’d come to.”
“The phone…”
“All part of my plan. I knew you lot would try to take it from Harux, so I had messages setup on there pinpointing me as the mastermind.”
“But I noticed the movie was available at other times, so how could you have known she would book it on that day?”
“Simple.” I shrug, “I booked all the tickets for every other day using the points I made.”
“That.” Morgana says, mouth drawn in a flat line, “Sounds overcomplicated.”
“No such thing as overcomplication for what’s necessary.”
“Yeah, but this obviously wasn’t.”
“What about it wasn’t necessary?”
“The movies, phone dropping, everything! Well, namely, the movie part. I get that you had to reveal yourself as the mastermind, but you could’ve just confronted Ceylica in the hallway and fought her there instead of pretending to be a supervillain.”
“Rookie mistake. I needed to have her guard lowered, so I had to provoke her then, preferably in a place where’d she least expect it, like just after a movie, in a position of seeming weakness… Plus, a random hallway would have been far less cinematic than a festival. I did need to profit off this little stunt after all.”
“So…” She trails off, “The cameras next to all those stalls…”
“Set up a few hours in advance by yours truly.”
“You mean you paid someone to do it.”
My fingers fiddle aimlessly with the wrench, “Obviously.” Then making an effort to move on, brush back my hair. “These school points are worthless outside of this establishment after all, so I had to find a way to make this operation financially viable.”
Morgana inhales, raising an eyebrow in apparent disbelief, “You just wanted to play evil genius, didn’t you?”
“Genius, yes, but I don’t think there was anything evil about it.”
“Lucius!”
Morgana jerks forward and pinches my face again. Unearned as her provocation is, I can’t help but retaliate, stretching her cheeks in retribution. Despite the seemingly violent nature of our actions, though, and the potential facial damage it could cause, I can’t help but not hate it.
Now, I wouldn’t go as far as to say it’s fun.
Or a particularly productive use of yours truly’s time…
But, all things considered, it isn’t bad either.
And maybe, just once in a while, forgoing all semblance of intelligence for a bit of pinching can be mildly entertaining.
Probably.