Neo stared at the screen a little longer than he should have.

The answer had come so fast that it felt less like a reply and more like she had been waiting with the phone already in her hand, watching the chat the way a hunter watched tall grass move before something stepped out of it.

He typed back with his thumb.

White-haired boy? i have a name, in case you didn’t know.

He sent it and waited.

The reply came at once again.

Of course i know your name, neo. i just prefer that one.

Neo’s mouth twitched faintly.

Annoying woman suits you better too, but i’m not calling you that.

This time there was a slightly longer pause. Long enough for him to picture her reading that and deciding whether to be offended or entertained.

Then the next message arrived.

So you do know how to talk after all.

Neo leaned back against the headboard with the phone in one hand, the fading light from the window stretching over his room in thin gold bands. The apartment had gone quiet again after the first surprise of waking.

No one asking questions from the next room, no camp noise. Just the phone, the bed, and a girl from one of the strongest families in the world answering him like this was normal.

It still felt strange.

More messages appeared.

Good. then let’s stop pretending this was just a polite exchange. Meet me tomorrow.

Neo read that twice.

Why?

There was no immediate answer that time. He imagined her smiling at the screen, maybe because she had expected that exact response, maybe because she already knew he would say yes in the end.

The next line appeared.

Because i want to talk to you properly.

Neo frowned.

You already are.

A few seconds passed.

Not like this.

In person.

Neo’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He did not like the idea.

Not because Vivienne herself had done anything wrong. She had not. If anything, she had been more direct than most people around him. That was part of the problem. Direct people from families like hers usually wanted something, and whatever they wanted tended to come wrapped in a price somebody else had to pay later.

He looked toward the window for a moment, the orange outside dimming into evening, and thought about the little money he still had left, the apartment, food, training, transport, everything ahead. Gray Hand wasn’t far anymore. He needed credits. More than that, he needed to stop moving through things like a half-starved stray pretending he wasn’t still counting every expense in his head.

He wrote back anyway.

And why exactly would i do that?

Her answer arrived quickly this time.

Because i’m asking nicely.

Neo snorted softly.

That’s not a reason.

Another pause.

Because i can tell you things that might interest you.

He stared at that.

Things. Plural.

That could mean a hundred different things. Leo. Her family. The Measured Heavens. The world above the level he knew. Or it could mean absolutely nothing useful dressed up in the kind of vague mystery rich people liked when they wanted someone curious enough to walk into their circle on their own feet.

Neo typed with less patience.

That sounds like bait.

Her next answer came fast enough that it almost felt like she had laughed before sending it.

It is bait.

You noticed. good boy.

Neo’s expression flattened.

Don’t say that again.

The reply came right behind it.

then meet me and i’ll stop.

He let out a slow breath through his nose.

Still no.

The phone buzzed almost at once.

What if i pay for your time?

Neo froze.

He looked at the screen again to make sure he had read it properly.

Pay?

Yes. You come, you sit down, you talk to me for a while, and i pay you for the trouble.

simple enough, no?

Neo sat up a little straighter on the bed.

’Now that sounds different.’

He did not need to fake reluctance. It was there. Meeting her still smelled like trouble. Trouble with polish on it, trouble that smelled expensive and wore neat clothes, but trouble all the same. At the same time, a paid conversation was a paid conversation, and he had no pride when it came to making the numbers in his account less pathetic.

He typed back carefully.

How much?

Vivienne answered so quickly it was insulting.

There it is.

Neo clicked his tongue.

How much?

This time she gave him a number.

It was enough to make him go quiet. Not absurd enough to scream trap. Not low enough to be a joke either. More than enough for an afternoon of sitting somewhere and answering questions. More than enough to make refusing feel stupid.

’Rich people really are ridiculous.’

He rubbed his thumb once against the side of the phone and wrote back.

What kind of place?

Somewhere decent. You don’t need to worry, i’m not luring you into a basement. Unless that makes it more tempting.

Neo’s face stayed blank.

You’re irritating.

And yet you’re considering it. you need money that much?

He was.

That was the ugly part. Not because she was attractive, although she was, and he wasn’t blind. Not because she came from a strong family, either. That would have pushed him the other way if anything. He was considering it because she had offered credits, had implied she knew things, and had done it in a way that made refusing feel like turning his back on a useful door before even checking what was behind it.

He tapped once against the screen.

Fine.

The reply came so quickly it almost made him think she had been smiling the whole time.

Good boy.

Neo’s jaw tightened. ’I am being ragebaited right now?’

Say that again and i’m doubling the price.

There was a longer pause after that, and when she answered, he could almost hear the amusement in it.

Deal. I’ll send the place and time in a minute.

A new message came with the location and hour. It was in a decent part of the city.

The apartment fell quiet again.

For a while he stayed there, elbows on his knees, head lowered, thinking about money, Vivienne, the cost of training, Gray Hand, and the new thing the Soul Window had shown him earlier. Residue. Impulses. Fragments. Classes were not clean power. They came with pieces attached, and those pieces stayed.

That thought drifted into the relic.

His gaze shifted toward the table.

The Twin Fangs of the Mourning Executioner were still his. Saint-rank weapons were absurd treasure for someone at his stage. Most people would have built their entire style around loot like that and thanked the world for handing it over. Neo wasn’t most people. He had something better.

He stood, walked to the table, and let Soul Essence move.

The paired blades came into his hands with a low shimmer.

Venomfang felt lighter than he expected, eager in a nasty, precise way. Gravefang had a different temperament, heavier in the wrist, crueler in how it wanted to bite and stay there. Even without using them properly, he could feel the quality in both.

Good weapons.

The black mass of the Divine relic stirred when he called it. It crept over his hand with that strange living-metal movement that never fully looked natural no matter how many times he saw it. It reacted to the blades immediately, almost like a beast catching scent of blood.

Neo glanced from one sword to the shifting relic, and a small smile finally touched his mouth.

"Well," he murmured, raising the paired blades a little, "I think it’s time to feed my baby, no?"