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The Glitched One
Chapter 88: Patience

Chapter 88: Patience

The lie held firm, rooted in something real. I’d seen a burnt-down hut by the bridge a few days back. Its charred remains looked like they’d been abandoned for weeks, maybe longer. No one alive would claim it now. It was a convenient cover story, and for now, it kept Mox off my back. But I had to be careful. Lies like this had a way of snowballing.

Sticking to myself was the only option. People weren’t safe. I’d learned that the hard way with Suzan. She’d seemed kind—gentle even—with her soft-spoken words and tender care for those elves and their dogs. But kindness here wasn’t free. It was a mask, and by the time I realized it, I was strapped to a table, seconds away from being carved up like meat.

This world---it didn’t want me here. And, honestly, I didn’t want it either. Every shadow was a threat. Every kindness was a setup. Back home, I knew how to navigate the concrete jungle and selfish people. Here, it felt like the world itself was trying to tear me apart.

“Looks like the rain is finally stopping,” Mox muttered, flicking her wings out with a few quick beats. Droplets scattered off them like tiny gemstones. “Took long enough.”

I glanced at her wings, droplets still clinging to the edges. “Hmm.”

“Bad for drying,” she said, tilting her head toward me. “Takes forever.”

“I can imagine.”

“Imagine me being naked and drying my wings?” She asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

My eyes met hers, flat as stone. I said nothing, just stared until her grin faded. Then I turned forward, matching her pace but keeping a half-step behind her. Let her think whatever she wanted. I wasn’t playing her game.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she muttered, folding her arms as she walked. “Do you always just suck the air out of a room like that?”

“Only when I’m in it,” I replied.

“Yeah, well, it’s working.” She clicked her tongue and kicked a pebble down the path. It bounced off a tree root, vanishing into the brush. Her gaze slid back to me. “Why were you living in that hut anyway? What happened to your parents?”

I didn’t miss a beat. “They’re dead.” My eyes stayed forward, not giving her anything else to latch onto. “And stop asking questions.”

“Alright, alright,” she said, lifting her hands like I’d pulled a blade on her. “No need to snap.” She walked in silence for a bit, hands swinging casually at her sides. “Touchy subject. Got it.”

“Hey, Axel!” A familiar voice called from behind. I turned to see Aiden jogging toward us, his face tense. His steps were quick, like he had news he didn’t want to share but had to anyway.

I stopped, waiting for him to catch up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Seker,” Aiden said, his breath sharp from the short run. “He’s missing.”

I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Maybe he skipped school?”

Aiden shook his head, his eyes darting to the ground, his fingers raking through his hair. “No, he would’ve told me. And he wasn’t there when Leo and I woke up this morning. Just... gone.” His pacing picked up, back and forth like his thoughts were spinning too fast to control. “He wouldn’t do that. Not without telling one of us.”

I could’ve told him we went to visit his mom. Could’ve told him about how that “visit” ended. But that would’ve led to more questions, and I didn’t have the energy—or the patience—for that. So I stayed silent, letting Aiden burn off his worry while I stared at him with the same dull, steady look I always gave people.

Stolen novel; please report.

Eventually, he stopped pacing, his breath coming slower. He glanced up at me, eyes half-hopeful. “You sure you didn’t see him?”

“Didn’t see him,” I said flatly.

“Alright.” He scratched at his neck. “If you do, let me know, yeah?” He started walking backward, his eyes still on me. “See you.”

“Yeah,” I replied, already turning away. “See you.”

Mox watched Aiden leave. “Who was that?”

“No one,” I muttered, picking up my pace.

“No one, huh?” She glanced at me, her wings shifting with a slow motion. “You’re pretty cold, you know that?”

“I’m not cold,” I said, not looking at her. “I’m just tired.”

Her brow lifted in surprise. “Tired of what?”

Of this place. Of this world. Of pretending. Of every conversation feeling like a game where the wrong answer costs too much. But I didn’t say that. I kept my eyes ahead, my steps steady, and gave her the version that would end the talk the quickest.

“Tired in general,” I muttered. “That elf ambush messed me up. Still feeling it.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Sure. That’s a valid reason, I guess.” She walked ahead of me, leaving me half a step behind.

We stepped through the gates, our pace steady as we headed toward the dormitories. The rain had eased into a light drizzle, and with the weather improving, more people filled the streets. Stalls lined the sides of the road, vendors calling out to passersby, their voices blending into the hum of the city. Guards were everywhere—stationed on the streets, tucked into alleyways, and even perched on rooftops like hawks on watch. Their eyes scanned the crowd, alert for any sign of trouble.

I hadn’t thought much about how powerful Nu’tar was as a country or how secure Kinowa was as a city, but with this many guards around, it was clear they weren’t taking any risks. Their sheer presence felt like a show of strength—or maybe fear.

Ahead of me, Mox glanced over her shoulder, her gaze drifting toward me. I met her eyes, waiting for her to speak, but she only turned her head back to face the road. Her expression was unreadable, her face as still as stone. Whatever was on her mind, she wasn’t letting it slip.

“So,” she began, her voice calm but firm, “have you decided to join the tournament yet?”

“Not really,” I replied, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "Too risky for my taste."

“Where’s the fun if there’s no risk?” She raised a brow, a slight grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Besides, people bet on those fights. Twice the thrill.”

“Hmm.” I kept my eyes forward, kicking a loose stone along the path. “When’s it supposed to start?”

“In a few days,” she said, glancing up at the sky like she was counting the days in her head. “Normally, there’d be training going on right now, but since the whole ‘elves in the city’ thing happened, they called it off.”

“Figures,” I muttered.

The conversation fizzled out after that. We walked in comfortable silence for a while, letting the chatter of the street fill the void. More stalls popped up along the road, kids darted around playing make-believe battles with sticks for swords and scraps of wood for shields. Their laughter echoed, loud and carefree, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

Mox slowed her pace, letting me catch up until we were walking side by side. She shot me a quick look, her eyes sharp but not unkind, before turning her attention back to the road ahead.

“Why’d you go hunting for a rabbit?” she asked, her tone casual but curious. “The boys' dormitory’s got one of the best chefs in the school, doesn’t it?”

“Just wanted to practice my aim.”

“Right.” Her eyes lingered on me for a second longer. “My father taught me how to shoot. Once you figure it out, it’s like second nature. It’s all about patience and steady hands.”

“Patience, huh?” I sighed. “Yeah, I’ll need plenty of that.”

“Trust me, you will,” she said, smirking.

We rounded a corner, and the dormitories came into view—one for boys, one for girls. The streets here were livelier. Students sat on benches, talking in small groups, while others strolled along the pathways, some with bags slung over their shoulders, likely returning from class. The air felt lighter here, like it belonged to a world separate from the watchful guards and tense streets behind us.

“Come on,” Mox said, picking up her pace. “Let’s get inside before the weather turns ugly again.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Let’s go.”