Kael offered to take the blame for the broken door.
Just like that. No fuss, no guilt-tripping, just a quiet statement that made it sound like he'd broken it on purpose. Lilith didn't even try to stop him—she just nodded along like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, for her. Apparently this wasn't the first time she'd wandered down there, and from what she told me, the guards had started believing the door kept breaking because Kael's "presence" was too much for the hinges to handle. That was his own explanation, and since no one had the courage to question it, the story had stuck.
I'd asked—quietly—if that really was a good idea. If he wouldn't get punished. But Lilith just waved the concern off with a flick of her hand, like I'd asked if he could catch a cold.
"No one can punish Kael. Not even the emperor," she'd said, with that same smug tone she used whenever she thought I was being naive. "He's too strong."
Too strong. Strong enough that the guards blamed doors for not holding up, strong enough that no one dared say otherwise. And yet… Arden had beaten him. Brought him down without killing him.
So what did that make Arden?
I didn't like where that thought went. Not because I was afraid of the answer, but because I already knew it. Arden wasn't normal. He never had been. But every time someone else said it aloud, it started to feel more real.
The corridor we'd snuck back into was empty at first. Cold stone floors, polished by far too many footsteps, and lamps that glowed with steady, unnatural light. Lilith didn't stick around for long.
"I've got something important to take care of," she said suddenly, spinning on her heel with a little wave. "Don't follow me."
I didn't. Not because I wanted to be polite, but because I'd learned better by now. Whenever Lilith said something was important, it usually wasn't, and whenever she said not to follow, it most likely involved something that made people scream.
So I kept walking.
I passed a few guards, trying my best not to make eye contact. I felt like every one of them could somehow sense I'd been somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. That I had just stood inside a glowing prison talking to someone who used to command legions under the Demon Lord. That he had bowed to me.
My shoulders were tense, eyes flicking between doorways. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to look like I belonged. And just as I started thinking I might get away with it, a hand landed on my shoulder.
I flinched.
Hard.
Whirled around, pulse stuttering, already halfway to blurting some kind of excuse when I looked up and saw—
Arden.
Tall, dark, quiet Arden. His cloak still somehow caught the light despite the lack of sun, the gold trim catching just enough to make it look like it belonged to someone important, but not loud enough to invite questions. His face, as usual, was unreadable—partly because of those dark glasses, and partly because I wasn't sure he had expressions the way the rest of us did.
He stared down at me for a beat, and then said, "This feels a bit cliché, but I'm now going to pull you away for a random, secret discussion that will change the plot. Let's go."
Then he turned around and walked off without waiting, his boots making barely a sound on the stone. After a few steps, he glanced back at me and snapped his fingers once—quick and expectant, like I was some wandering cat and he was calling me to heel.
I stared after him.
Then stared harder.
He'd spoken. More than three words. And… what did he mean by "plot"? Did he mean plan? Strategy? Some noble thing I was too common to understand? Or was this some weird imperial way of talking?
But that wasn't the only weird thing.
He was alone.
Usually, Sora was somewhere nearby, half-shadowing him like a duckling with too much etiquette training. The two of them were almost never apart. Even when they didn't speak, there was always this quiet, comfortable rhythm between them. Like they'd figured out how to move around each other without needing words.
I fell into step behind him, then hesitated before asking, "Where's Sora?"
"She went off to do something," he replied without looking back. "Said it was a secret."
A secret? From him?
I blinked, thrown for a moment. I'd always kind of assumed they were a couple. They acted like it, at least. Not in the clingy, overly sweet way some of the villagers back home did—those two idiots who kept baking each other things and pretending it didn't mean anything, even though literally everyone knew it did—but still. There was something quiet and settled about the way they moved together. Trust, I guessed. Or something close.
Still. If it were me, I'd probably be more suspicious if my… partner? friend? whatever Sora was to him… just wandered off and wouldn't say why.
He didn't seem bothered, though. Just kept walking like it didn't matter.
And maybe that was the strangest part of all.
I blinked. Then, because I couldn't think of anything better to do—and because Arden was already turning the corner—I followed.
As I caught up to him, Arden didn't stop walking. He kept a steady pace, cloak brushing against his heels, like he had a destination in mind but wasn't in a hurry to get there.
"The secret discussion part was a lie," he said, voice calm as ever. "Or maybe a joke. Depends on how you want to look at it. Or how much you value the truth, I suppose. Hm. Never mind…"
He cleared his throat, voice trailing into a mumble before returning with more purpose. "Anyway. I promised I'd help you train back when we arrived, remember? I kind of… only remembered that just now. So, sorry about the delay."
"…It's fine," I said, words fumbling out before I could find a better reaction. He sounded... almost normal. Not unreadable, not impossibly distant—just a little awkward. Like someone trying to be responsible but running five steps behind their own intentions.
"I just didn't expect you to actually help me train," I added after a beat. "You had Elisabeth take over, so I figured that was your way of backing out of it."
"That was… because I didn't feel like doing it myself at the time," he admitted, tone flat but not cold. "I used Elisabeth's debt to me as a convenient excuse."
I squinted at him. "Didn't you just say you forgot? How could you forget something you already made plans about?"
"I remembered," he admitted. "I just… didn't want to deal with it. Not then. So I let it slip. Then other things happened that I had to deal with."
I couldn't argue with that. Not really. He had been busy lately. Between helping clean up the mess the cultists left behind, getting swarmed by grateful citizens, and fielding an endless stream of requests—probably from people who'd just realized that the mysterious Platinum-ranked adventurer had been the one to save them—I was honestly surprised he hadn't forgotten I existed too.
"I've also been doing a few things for the local guildmaster," he added, like he'd read my thoughts. "Helping smooth over the chaos from the recent attack. And the emperor's been... persistent. Sending me off to do tiring things."
His voice didn't sound particularly tired. But I listened anyway. Half because I didn't want to interrupt, half because it felt like hearing a bear confess it had a cold.
For weeks, he'd been this quiet, capable shadow—moving ahead of us like the future was already planned out and we just had to catch up. Now he was… talking. Explaining. Not much, and not warmly, but enough that it made something in my chest tighten without warning.
"I also wanted to tell you," he continued, "the device is done. The one for forming an artificial contract. You can use it now, if you want. Before we start your first lesson."
Oh.
Right. That thing.
The one Thalia and Veyran had been building. Arden had asked them to make it so I could draw from his power without needing a proper bond. I'd forgotten, or maybe just buried the thought under everything else. But I had considered it. More than once.
A dozen reasons not to say no crowded my throat. But I said it anyway.
"I… thanks," I said, then glanced away, shame crawling up my neck. "But I've decided not to. Sorry. I want to try getting stronger on my own."
Arden didn't react. Not visibly. He just gave a small nod.
"Alright," he said. "That's fair. I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to in the first place. My fault for deciding for you. The invention won't go to waste, though. I'm sure it'll be useful eventually. Or... I hope so."
I stared at him for a second longer than I meant to. He was so calm about it. So neutral. And I hated how much that made me feel relieved.
I kept waiting for him to push. Or to guilt me. Or to say something that would make me question my choice. But he didn't. And that was... somehow worse.
I didn't want to be carried anymore, not every time. I didn't want someone else's power flowing through me like a shortcut. I didn't even know how the contract thing worked—something about linking magic cores or weaving mana threads or whatever nonsense Veyran had tried to explain while I pretended I understood.
And something about letting someone else's power flow into me, even Arden's, just didn't sit right. It felt… wrong. Too unnatural. Too uncertain.
And then there was Lilith.
A part of me had worried what would happen to our familiar contract if I accepted another bond, even an artificial one. Which was ridiculous, maybe. I didn't know her that well. She annoyed me more often than not. But even so… I didn't want to risk it. Not with her. Not yet.
And Kael was still waiting. Waiting for me to get strong enough to stand on my own and choose him, properly. If I took the easy way now… it wouldn't feel like I'd earned anything.
It would feel like cheating.
And I hated cheating. Especially when I was the one doing it.
So I didn't say all of that. I just nodded, let the silence stretch between us, and took the first step forward.
"I'm ready," I said quietly. "Let's begin."