Caelan went straight to the point, no theatrics or games. Fieldwork had taught him that clarity saved lives. Wasting time, even here, was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

The Spymaster listened like a sniper sizing up her target. Motionless, gaze fixed, waiting for the perfect angle. She crossed her arms, gaze fixed on him. “Quite the story.”

“You can go ask the Headmistress for confirmation. We both know she’s not easy to fool.”

“So… am I to believe I’m just a video game character, crafted and designed to tell a story?” She scoffed, lips twisted into a grimace. Yet, the eyes remained glued to him. Each word weighted in.

“I don’t care how it works, ma’am.” The man leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe someone from my world dreamed it all up. Hell, could be a glitch in the matrix. Simulations crossed, and here we are.”

She remarked on his imagination, voice tinted with the nepotism of a general’s son. Ignoring the bait, Caelan tapped once on the desk. Sharp, deliberate. Sound echoed through the room, piercing the tension between the two. “Feels real enough to me, so I choose to go with that. And if you more proof, I know of Ricardo.”

Her fingers tensed, gripping her arms like a soldier holding a weapon. A tell. Not a big one, but enough to give her away. “How did you learn that?”

The touch on his shoulder set his instincts alight. A thousand hours of training screamed to pull away, but he stayed rooted, masking the reflex. “You tell the Valiant about him, seconds before your death.”

He let the words hang, watching as her composure tightened like a noose. “He becomes important in the second game. By the third, he’s a playable companion.” A pause, a moment of reflection. “He has your eyes.”

Vaedra sucked in a breath, jaw tensed. Vaedra locked the door with precise movements, her shoulders stiff. Not the kind of stiffness that comes from fear, but the kind that precedes a decision.

Except he couldn’t find himself without company. For better or worse.

“Half of me thinks she’s coming back to slice our head off and feed it to the dogs.” Leopold broke his silence, a simmered anger beneath his calm.

He flexed his fingers, a stiffness to his wrists. Sitting felt unnatural—his body yearned for action. A sangbag would be his very first project when he returned. If he returned at all. “And the other half?”

“She’s gonna pull out all our nails and THEN slice off our head.”

The former soldier raised an eyebrow at that. “Someone’s a bag of sunshine and rainbows tonight, aren’t they?”

The spirit turned to him, hands curled into fists. “Motherfucker, you left me out of the loop until a situation that can get us killed appeared. Again!”

“Would you believe me if I said I forgot?”

The string of curses Leopold unleashed could’ve filled a war crime tribunal. Caelan leaned back in his chair, half-listening, eyes on the locked door.

The door opened, with Vaedra carrying an unusual assortment. A tray, with a bottle of dark liquor, close to whisky, ice container and two glasses. She moved with deliberate grace, setting the items on the table. The bottle’s cork out with a single smooth motion. Her precision striking him as deliberate rather than casual. “I take it you an adult? Mentally, at least.”

“Yes ma’am.” He analyzed the way she poured the drink, generous portions on each cup. She slid the glass toward him, the faint clink of ice following. He declined the cubes with a shake of his head, lifting the glass instead. “Cheers.”

A gentle heat, whispers of cinnamon and black pepper. The taste lingered, like caramelized sugar shy of burnt. The warmth spread through his chest, unexpected but welcome. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy it.

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Something he didn’t expect in that room.

“You’re not worried she poisoned it?” Leopold hissed at him. The ghost had the expression of someone who’d swallowed week-old rations. “Also, don’t put that shit on my stomach!”

He placed the drink down, his grip light but ready to react—a habit drilled into him for years. The rest could come later, depending on how talks went. “Relax. If she wanted me dead, there are faster ways.”

“What a joy.” He kept his attention on the bottle, as if wanting to fulminate it.

“I thought a problem child would like drinking the hard stuff.”

The ice on his voice could freeze the sun itself. “I don’t drink. Ever.”

The words hit like a slap, jolting Caelan enough to almost turn toward him. He stopped himself, keeping his movements subtle. “Really?”

“Good to know there are a few things you don’t know.” Leopold muttered, turning away with deliberate finality. He left Caelan eyeing his back in complete silence.

Vaedra took a final sip, her hazel eyes locked on his. “Talking to Leopold?” She swirled the liquid in her glass, to enjoy its scent before gulping it down. “It’s impressive how obvious it becomes when you’re talking to someone else. Once you know it’s happening.”

Caelan gave a slow nod, glass halfway to his mouth. The smell tempted him—a promising warmth. But Leopold’s reaction echoed in his mind. With a mental sigh, he set the drink down. “So, what’s the occasion?”

She poured herself another shot, movements deliberate. “I went to confirm your claims on my death. Anyone would need strong spirits after seeing half their body burnt to ash.”

The young man raised an eyebrow. “I thought your Blessing had… consequences. ”

A chuckle, low and bitter, came as answer. “Your detailed description reduced it to a migraine and a nosebleed. Likely cost me a few hours of my life, not days.”

He leaned back, the chair’s creak too loud in the room. “I’m honored to be important enough for you to risk a nosebleed.”

They both fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. “You believe me now.”

Vaedra inhaled, chest rising as if prepared to plunge. “I can’t refuse to aentertain the thought. Am I to understand you want to offer assistance in preventing the downfall of the kingdom?”

“Yes.” Eyes narrowed, she maintained them glued to him, like a hawk stalking its prey. “Someone I loved cared for this world. That’s enough for me.”

“Who was it?”

Caelan glared at her, his body tensing up. The question cut through him like a bullet, fired from a .50 caliber.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m the one who decides what matters or not, boy.” The way she held his gaze wasn’t just commanding—it was probing, as if testing for cracks in his composure. “I’m still not convinced about you. For all we know you might be trying to manipulate me for your own ends. Ones who can harm the academy and perhaps even this world.”

Caelan turned away, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Every instinct told him to deflect, to keep the truth buried. Even so, he muttered. “My wife.”

She watched in silence as he finished the rest of his glass in a gulp. “Must have been quite the woman. To drive you to such lengths.”

He confirmed with a nod. Every emotion locked away, leaving nothing for her to exploit. Sam wasn’t just a memory—she was leverage. And leverage in the wrong hands could break him.

“You could be just trying to find a way back home. If you love her so much.”

“That’s something you have zero reason to worry about.” The glass trembled beneath his fingers, a small betrayal of the storm beneath his calm. “And that’s all I’ll say on that.”

The spymaster tapped at the table, body leaned against the chair. She had the ease of someone who always got the upper hand. “Very well. You provide intel, and I’ll decide how best to handle what lurks in the dark. And your little secret will stay between us.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“I’ll also have you join the Secrets Course.” The spymaster chuckled, on her feet as she went for the door. “Darling, you might think you’re good at fooling people. But the signs are there for anyone who knows what to look.” Her touch was light, almost reassuring—but Caelan knew better. It was a reminder of her control, a silent promise that she could break him if she wanted. “If I noticed, others will too. Better to control the narrative, don’t you think?”

“Understood, ma’am.”

Just as she opened the door, Vaedra turned back. “Also, I’m assigning the two students who brought you here as bodyguards.”

Bodyguards meant surveillance. She didn’t trust him—not yet. He’d need to prove himself first. “If I need babysitters, pick someone else.” She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “They have important roles to play in the original story. Better to change it as little as possible. Or risk altering too much and make the intel useless.”

“Your very existence has already changed how things go.” She gave him her sculpted back—a picture of confidence. “Besides, the less people who can deduce how important you are, the better.”

She had left before he could argue.

“Well, that went as well as it could.”

Leopold offered no response, his silence heavier than any retort. One more thing to worry later. But for now, he rejoiced at his new victory.

He would need all one he could get.