Chapter 256: 256 | A Lecture on Punctuality

The maintenance worker passed by again, this time with a donut to go with his coffee. He gave me a sympathetic look that suggested he’d seen students waiting outside locked buildings before and knew how this usually ended. Not encouraging.

I started composing a text message to Vale that began with several creative applications of profanity and ended with a detailed explanation of where he could store his elite training protocols. My finger hovered over the send button while I debated whether burning this bridge was worth the temporary satisfaction.

Probably not.

I deleted the message and started over with something more diplomatically phrased, which mostly involved asking if he was still planning to show up sometime before I died of exposure.

Before I could send it, footsteps echoed across the quad again.

This time they belonged to a familiar figure in an expensive jacket and designer sunglasses, silver hair catching the early morning light like some kind of anime protagonist. Vale approached at a leisurely pace that suggested he had absolutely no awareness of the time or my rapidly deteriorating mood.

"Monroe." He nodded like showing up an hour late was perfectly normal behavior. "Ready to get started?"

I stared at him.

He stared back, waiting for something that wasn’t me demanding to know what the hell took him so long.

"I’ve been here since 4:45," I said, working to keep the edge out of my voice even though what I really wanted to do was grab him by his expensive jacket and shake some awareness into him.

"Good. Punctuality matters." He pulled a key card from his pocket and swept it across the sensor. Green light flashed. The lock clicked open with a soft mechanical sound. "Shows you’re serious about training. That’s what separates people who succeed from people who complain."

I felt something crack inside me.

He was giving me a lecture on punctuality.

After showing up an hour late.

With no apology. No acknowledgment of the time I’d spent freezing outside. Just casual indifference wrapped in designer sunglasses and silver hair.

I followed him through the door anyway because my other options involved violence or walking away, both of which would screw me over more than they’d hurt him. The timer on my life didn’t care about my pride, and beating the shit out of my teacher wouldn’t extend my survival by a single second.

The gym’s interior looked exactly how I’d expected an Elite Ten facility to look. Equipment that cost more than most people’s cars. Perfect climate control that made the outside temperature irrelevant. Enough open floor space to fit three basketball courts with room left over. Everything clean, organized, maintained by people who probably made more than my old salary.

Vale walked toward a section with specialized combat equipment, still moving like he had all the time in the world. No urgency. No acknowledgment that he’d just wasted an hour of my life.

"Sorry about the delay," he said, finally admitting that time existed as a concept. "Got lost on the way here. These campus paths all look the same in the dark."

I stopped walking.

He got lost.

On a campus where he’d been teaching for years.

Walking to a building he visited regularly.

In broad daylight, because the sun had been up for twenty minutes when he finally arrived.

"Lost," I repeated, making sure I’d heard correctly.

"Took a wrong turn near the library. Ended up at the marina somehow." He shrugged like this was a perfectly reasonable explanation for keeping someone waiting in the cold for an hour. "You know how it is."

I didn’t know how it was. I’d never gotten lost going anywhere on this campus, and I’d been here less than a month. The paths were clearly marked, well-lit, and designed by people who understood basic navigation principles. A child could follow them.

But sure. Vale got lost.

The strongest hunter on faculty. The man with reflexes fast enough to catch bullets and perception sharp enough to notice fake crystals in government vaults. He’d somehow become confused by walkways that freshmen could navigate blindfolded.

"Are you serious right now?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Vale turned to look at me, eyebrows visible above his sunglasses. For a second I wondered if I’d just committed academic suicide by questioning his obviously bullshit excuse. If he’d decide I was too much trouble and report back to whatever authority had sent those investigators my way.

Then he grinned.

"You’re pissed."

Not a question. A statement of fact.

"I’m wondering if this is another one of your tests," I said, which was diplomatic code for yes, I was absolutely pissed.

"Nope. Just got lost. Happens to everyone." He started pulling equipment from storage lockers with practiced efficiency, like this conversation was already over. "Good thing you waited though. Shows commitment."

Shows commitment.

I’d been standing outside in the cold for an hour because I was committed to not getting murdered by Diamond-tier investigators, not because I enjoyed demonstrating my dedication to professors who couldn’t find their way around their own workplace. There was a difference. A significant one.

But pointing that out seemed unwise.

Instead I helped him set up whatever training nightmare he had planned, because arguing with Vale felt like arguing with a natural disaster. Pointless and likely to end with me getting buried under debris. Better to just endure it and move on.

The equipment he’d selected looked expensive and vaguely threatening. Straps, weights, resistance bands with tension I could feel just looking at them. Which probably meant today’s session would involve pain, humiliation, or both. Maybe a combination package deal.

I was already regretting getting out of bed. Hell, I was regretting being born.

"So," Vale said, testing the tension on what appeared to be a combat harness designed by someone who hated joy. "Ready to see what elite training actually looks like?"

Given that elite training apparently started with the instructor getting lost for an hour, I had my doubts about the quality standards here. But I nodded anyway, because burning bridges with the academy’s strongest hunter over punctuality issues seemed like the kind of mistake that would haunt me for the rest of my probably brief life.

"Let’s do this," I said.