Lyressa couldn’t sleep. It was impossible to, more impossible as of late. This was supposed to be a simple investigation. In two hours, less than that even, she’d experienced a litany of absurdities and they all belonged to Alexander Shen. The human man, not a corpo-sword as incorrectly assumed. He was… He was enigmatic. A mystery from head-to-toe.
Most of all, he was a rogue. What kind of whistleblower would scowl and threaten her and the entirety of Glory Guild? His pursuit of justice was admirable, respectable even, but how could you call a man like him “powerless” even if using the loosest definition of the word? No, this went beyond System Articles; he was dangerous.
Shen expected a corpo when he walked into the room, and likewise, Lyressa expected the same: a sleazy, perhaps cowardly bespectacled man shrinking into his shoulders. Instead, he stunned her. She found a handsome man who looked not at all out-of-place with the other clubbers. Unlike them, whose blood ran blue from infused alcohol and stimulants, he was a healthy man in his prime: around one-eighty-five centimeters tall and possessed the confidence and physique of a high-ranker. He naturally commanded such a large presence that even experienced swords would think twice about challenging him, but that wasn’t the main reason for her apprehension. It was his biting eyes, two gems of mesmerizing silver. It was his neutral, yet frowning countenance. Shen was a hardened wolf, from his tamed inked hair to his calculating yet predatory gaze—a gaze that was perpetually in search of threats and opportunities. A terrifying combination of taut muscle, small scars, and intelligence.
Amounted to a junior position as an expedition broker at a mid-level corporation.
It doesn’t make sense.
How could a man like him go under the radar for so long?
Lyressa blinked; she was standing in front of a conference room, which had been assigned for her investigation. Her team was reviewing Shen’s intel as soon as she returned. They were saints, working through midnight and early in the morning. They had to, as she had informed them—and Louis—about Shen’s threat.
She yawned and entered. Everyone inside jumped to their feet at attention, respectful of her rank. She gestured for them to relax. “I apologize for barging in. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought to entertain myself with your progress. Can you—”
On the projector screen, there was a picture of a small class of college students. Wayfarers of Ordo University, more specifically… They seemed to be a club or team of business majors. The mouse cursor hovered over a man.
A man with silver eyes and a rare, genuine smile. He looked almost innocent in that picture.
“Why is Shen on the screen?” she asked.
Zhou, who was attending to the laptop, raised his hand. “Silverhonor, ma’am, we’ve been going through his intel for the past five hours. It’s meticulous; as in, eight-fourteens would be impressed. As it stands, the System Articles case? We don’t have to do much. All that’s left is formalities and double-checking everything.”
“What…?” Lyressa rubbed her dry and flaky eyes. “Excuse me, the lack of sleep is getting to me, but you’re saying the case is mostly solved?”
Zhou nodded, gulping. “Shen gave us everything. Receipts, numbers, names, interviews even—I’ve never seen anything like it. It almost makes us forget that he threatened Glory Guild, so forgive us, but we shifted the topic of our investigation.”
He patted the projector screen. “We wanted to investigate him. At first, he looks like an exceptional college grad: full-ride scholarship, majoring in business, internship at System Articles, graduated a semester early—”
Lyressa interrupted, “He ‘looks exceptional’?”
“Well, he is, but there’s more to the story.” Zhou raced to his laptop and flipped through more pictures. “Apparently, Shen is really close with OU’s Systemic Works. On social media, he’s often seen in group pictures with students in the program. Not on his accounts, he rarely posts anything there. Still, it’s more surprising that nobody tagged him earlier.”
“I see, but what makes him so fascinating?” More fascinating than he already is.
Zhou looked to the rest of his team, and they gave each other uncertain, almost pitying looks. “You’d want to sit down for this, ma’am.”
***
“God, I needed this. I really needed this—”
“Vic, stop moaning or I’m kicking you out.” I was half-ready to snatch his wings and feed them to the birds outside, but I wasn’t that much of an asshole.
I’d fried a shitton of chicken wings, all so my best friends could take advantage of my kindness in exchange for not feeling alone for a few hours. Plus, they brought beer and liquor to feed my chronic alcoholism. Tonight was a good night to indulge. Althea was studying at a friend’s house for finals.
Victor Taslim, the dumbass with the muted blue hair, was chowing down and he was one mistake from staining my couch cushions. “Dude, can you blame me? It’s fuckin’ delicious—!”
“Yeah, it doesn’t mean you should make-out with a half-eaten drumstick. Actually, it’s the only kiss you’ll ever have, so please, go nuts—”
“Fuck off.” Vic was about to push me away before I lurched backwards.
He was not touching me with those fingers.
“In his defense, Alex, he’s correct. They are amazing,” said a cool, mature voice from the hallway. There she was: the forest-haired cultivator of the hour, Miss Li Chunhua (李春华), as beautiful as the day when she first threatened me.
I said, “Uh huh, what took you so long in the bathroom? You fell in the toilet?”
Chunhua cracked a hollow chuckle, the kind that communicated a severe threat. “No, I was wrestling with your new bottle of hand-soap. I couldn’t open it.”
“You were—? What? All you have to do is spin the thing.” I made the gesture to demonstrate. “It’s a bottle-pump. You’ve never opened a bottle-pump before—?”
Chunhua flashed her palm to get me to stop yapping. “Well, I’ve learned much tonight. In the end, I conceded victory and twisted the cap off to pour soap over my hands.” She paused for a moment. “And over your bathroom mats.”
My paycheck was getting wasted on taxes and dumbasses. I wanted to scream but kept my boiling frustration in. Air hissed through my nostrils, though. “Christ, xia (侠), you’re—”
A fast hand smacked my forehead. My neck snapped back and I groaned. Any harder, she would’ve taken my head off.
“Join the line.” I rubbed where she’d struck me. “Now, finish your damn food.”
She pouted but listened. Not because I asked, though. Chunhua might be a native from the Jianghu—a real martial beauty like in the magazines and movies—but people of all cultures shared one thing in common: they loved delicious food.
“Mmf—mnn—mhrg?” Same thing with that creature. The incoherent mumbling belonged to the third and last guest: Okano Kotone (岡野琴音). If Victor was incurably stupid and Chunhua was a sadistic cultivator, then Kotone was a walking disaster. Her messy, raven hair was completely indicative of her life. She waltzed into the living room with a plate full of protein and had a wing stuffed inside her mouth.
Chunhua sighed and grabbed a nearby napkin. “Kotone, dear, stop talking with your mouth full.”
Kotone popped it out. “Who’s ending whose life?”
“Yours,” I said. I took the throne in my personal lounge-chair, having my own little table with my dinner and a cold beer—God, I sound like I’m thirty-seven with three separate fantasy football leagues.
“Cool.” Kotone plopped next to Chunhua and took the napkin, patting her lips dry of sauce. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have cooked such a messy dinner. Two of my three guests weren’t known to be sanitary.
Victor cleaned off a bone. “Okay! Who’s gonna ask him?”
Everyone fought a battle of eyes; unfortunately, the girls teamed together and overpowered Victor’s weak staring.
Vic shook his head and broke the silence, “I’m not gonna ask him! I was thinkin’ you do it, Kotone.”
Kotone retorted, “Can’t speak Cantonese, sorry.” (“I can’t either,” I commented.)
“That’s not even the right dialect—! Never mind. Chunhua—?” Chunhua was aggressively eating her wings. “—you frickin—!”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
I cleared my throat. “I’m waiting for the question, Vic. Just to remind you: I spent time and money to cook tonight, allowed you into my own home, and you’re about to wipe your dirty fingers on my couch.”
Vic showed his grubby hands. “Okay. Alex, we’re friends, right?” (“I’m not giving you money.”) “It’s not that! No, man, it’s not money. It is kinda a big ask, from Professor Jeon.”
Professor Jeon… She was the main instructor of Systemic Work’s Class A3; in other words, Class A of the third-years. Their class. Most Systemic Works programs lasted for three-years and OU was no exception. I had already graduated, and these dorks were weeks away from theirs. Same with Althea.
I sipped my beer. “She wants me to help with instruction?”
Vic ripped a napkin and nodded, making sure his hands were perfectly clean. “Yup. Finals are next week, man, but that’s not the big issue—”
“Guilds,” I finished his thought. Finals weren’t their main concern. In fact, third-year finals were light on purpose knowing the bigger challenge ahead: at the beginning of June, First Wave was starting.
First Wave was a five-day variety examination event hosted by major castles. This shindig was purposefully created for young, starry-eyed swords, like three certain idiots in the room. Without First Wave, they would compete against veterans (who’d be later tested in Second Wave), which wouldn’t be a fair fight nor a fair assessment. Recruiters were looking for a good return on investment, after all. Your potential was just as valuable as your current ability.
I’d say the event was fairly popular. Every year, thousands flew in from all corners of the world for a shot at stardom. Applicants had a grocery list of exams to choose from, and each was sponsored by a guild(s), like the Wisdom [Skill] Exhibition Showcase or the General Aptitude Examination. It was up to the individual to pick which exams they wanted, how many exams, and what guild(s) interested them.
Once the five days were over, the castles submitted their judgment. For the passing few, they would find a special email in their inbox: “Congratulations, you’ve passed First Wave and you are now eligible to try-out!”
Yup, First Wave was only the first-half of the process, where you earn the right to try-out. All the lucky guys and girls, then, take the real test at the guild(s) itself.
Needless to say, it was going to be a brutal time for everyone. Even for these three. Vic and Chunhua were B-Ranks in their early-twenties. You rarely saw that unless they were cradles—meaning, they [Registered] at fourteen—and wouldn’t you know, they were. Kotone was special: C-Rank, [Registered] at eighteen, but had an SS-Rank [Skill]. Lucky her, she was one-in-billions.
Graduating OU gave them a huge advantage, but advantages couldn’t take you over the finish line.
“...Alex?” Vic’s voice woke me up. “You’ve been thinkin’ for a while, man.”
“Trying to remind myself about the details.” I tapped my forehead, the same spot Chunhua had struck, to try and preserve my dwindling brain-cells. “So what does Jeon want help with? General combat instruction?”
“Something like that, yeah, she didn’t tell us the deets. She’s gonna pay you ‘pretty good,’ though. Or the college will—again, talk to her ‘bout it. She’s not expecting charity.”
“Yeah, if I’m going to be interacting with swords, I’d better be paid for it.” I sighed, raising my bottle to my eyes. “I’ll think about it. That’s my answer.”
“Not like I didn’t expect this—wait, huh?”
Surprise rocked through my friends, looking at me as if I was a stranger.
Kotone exclaimed, “We totally thought you’d shoot us down! Like, we told Professor Jeon that you aren’t gonna budge.”
Chunhua added, “We even joked about what reasons you’d give. Work, Althea’s graduation—” (“His imaginary girlfriend,” Vic muttered.) “—that too.”
I rolled my eyes. “First of all, fuck you guys. Second of all, you’re not wrong, but uhm… A problem popped up in your list, Chunhua.”
“Oh jeez…” Kotone said, “...Althea got expelled? Did she get into a fight again?”
“Not this time. I’m quitting my job soon.”
That got a bigger reaction out of them. They dropped their chicken, their plates and drinks, and their jaws.
Chunhua stated, “You looked unhappy working there as of late, but I thought you’d make a decision later.”
“Well, things happened and I’m trying to figure out when to port. That means I’m losing my income really soon, and before you ask, the family doesn’t know yet. Right now, I’m still in the planning process.”
“That’s why you didn’t turn us down right away,” Vic stated the obvious. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. Is it bad? System Articles? Things going south?”
I morbidly chuckled. That alone gave them their answer, but I elaborated, “To say the least, yeah. Or more accurately, things will go south.”
Chunhua narrowed her eyes. “Is it life-threatening?”
I pursed my lips. “Probably.”
“Alex?!”
“God, dude.”
“It’s always you…”
“Okay, okay, hold on.” I stood, taking the stage so nobody could scold me. “The situation itself is handled. What isn’t handled is the reaction. There’s a possibility that nothing happens—”
“Or you get iced,” Vic finished.
I opened my mouth like I was going to argue, but he was right. “Yeah, basically.”
Kotone raised, “What about Thea?”
My throat got really dry. “That’s what I’m worried about the most. You know how execs work. Corps. Nothing is sacred. If you really get on their bad side, well, the lines in the sand are suggestions.”
“Well.” Chunhua sat back and crossed her legs. “I suppose that leaves us with one option: become acquainted with your dilemma and plan for the worst. And Alexander, before you whip that tongue at us, you have no say in the matter. You might be an exceptional fighter, but you’re still human.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t fight you on this.” When it came to Thea’s safety, fuck pride. “But that’s enough serious talk for now. I’ll go over everything later, after we finish our food.”
After I motioned at our half-eaten plates, everyone was reminded of their primary needs. We settled down and returned to normal conversations: recent gossip, current events, our plans for the summer, and more about the instructional job if I was going to take it—which seemed likelier as I considered my options. It was a cushion.
We finished our meals and got to cleaning. The girls were handling the dishes, and I was prepping the living room for a long discussion about the next couple days. I thought about the job. Honestly, I should take it. These idiots were going out of their way to help me, spending time that could’ve been used for training.
I’d rather not leave any good deed unpaid.
“Alright…” Living room was done. The girls were still in the kitchen. Got some time to kill.
Having nothing better to do, I grabbed my beer and walked onto the balcony. It was cool out, the perfect weather for a jog. The night sky was blank aside a few dots like dead pixels on a screen. Cars whirred below me. Windows glowed in golden light with silhouettes dancing within. Among the vistas, there was me: a loser drinking a beer.
Cheers, Ordo. To me.
I drank.
Someone joined me on the balcony: a blue-haired dumbass. “Yo, how ya feeling?”
I shrugged. “Tired.”
“Yeah, I’d bet.” He rested his forearms on the railing, beer snug between his fingers. “It’s fucked up. It’s really fucked up.”
“After everything I’ve been through and seen, you’d think I grew a stomach for this shit.” I hissed and shook my head. “It hits hard every time. Guess that’s a good thing. I’m not growing numb.”
Vic faced me; for once, he didn’t look cocky or perverse. Just sympathetic, and maybe a little bit pitying. “What’s after this?”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. What are you gonna do? I mean, you go against a corp, you’re gonna get blacklisted from all of ‘em. It’ll be real fuckin’ tough to find a job after this, you know that.”
“I’ll find something. It means taking a few menial jobs between here and then, but there’s a fish for every hook.” Until I fuck that up too. “Don’t worry about me, Vic. I got it.”
“Can’t blame a dude for asking.” Vic tapped his beer-bottle against the railing. “Hypothetically-speaking, what job d’you want? Gonna be a broker again?”
I blew raspberries. “Fuck that. It’s not something I can see myself doing, but I’m not picky. If it’s good, stable, preferably moral, and pays well, that’s all I need. Don’t get me wrong, I have preferences, but I compromise.”
“Y’know, I still don’t get it.” Vic turned, leaning his back against the railing. “Why you’re corpo. All that muscle’s going towards typing really fast on a keyboard, and yet, you still get your ass in trouble. Look, I know. You never do this unless you have a good reason, but you see a pattern forming, right? What d’ya want, man?”
Time and time again, I was asked these questions. It was why I went along with that bouncer’s assumptions at Gorgon. It saved me the trouble of explaining, saved me that stink eye they’d always give me. I never cared what other people think, but after going through the same conversation a thousand times, it wore on you.
Vic wasn’t wrong, though. At any sign of injustice or criminality, my hero complex returned like a roaring addiction, enticing me into relapse. But this was something I couldn’t ignore. The moment you put your sights on the innocent, you stopped being human. You become a monster.
Evil, and evil must be executed.
This set of ideals naturally gave me grief, but…
“Look, Vic, I’m not interested in that life. Being a mil, a badge, a sword—I want none of their baggage. Corps are a decent balance between action and peace, and clearly, it didn’t work out that way. Hell, I don’t give a shit about the corporate ladder in the first place. What I want for myself… God, what I want is…”
I pointed at the sight we had. The city. Ordo. “A night like this, where me and Thea can sleep soundly without worrying about getting snuffed, where she can do whatever the hell she wants without the shadowman stalking behind every corner. Give me something predictable, a schedule, so I know tomorrow won’t press a gun against my skull. I meant it, Vic. I’m tired, but as my uncle says, peace has a price and it’s never, ever cheap.”
Without saying a word, Victor put a hand on my shoulder.
I groaned and leaned my forehead on the railing. After banging the metal once, I got off. “Sorry for going off on you. I think I drank one too many beers.”
“It’s fine, man. You needed to get it off your chest somehow. Prefer this than, I dunno, jumping off the roof.”
“Don’t tempt me.” I stood straighter. “But yeah, thanks. For hearing me out, I mean, and helping. I’d be a sitting duck without you guys.”
“That’s why we’re friends with your miserable ass.” Vic laughed and playfully pushed me. “Got three of the best Slayers in OU. We’re an unstoppable team. Hell, if you do decide to [Register], we could make a damn good ST.”
I chuckled. “You’ll really abandon your dream of being an Angel?”
Vic didn’t immediately answer and glanced inside the living room. The girls were finally finished cleaning. “Chunhua and Kotone might give up on Martials.”
“You’re a spineless idiot.”
“Get a new insult, man.” He cocked his head toward the screen-door. “Let’s start talking ‘bout System Articles, ‘kay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll text Thea to hurry her ass over.” I finished the rest of my beer and went back inside.
I’d never admit this, but spending a few hours with them wasn’t the worst thing. There wouldn’t be many opportunities like this in the future; once they settle into their new careers, a friend like me would fade into the background of their exciting lives and I would only see them on billboards and TVs.