SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 177: Aftershocks

I walked into our train's cabin like I hadn't just dismantled fourteen living weapons with a piece of glass and half a lung collapsed.

The tile floor under my boots was too clean.

Elliot looked up first. His eyes widened. Anika turned her head in the same instant, blindfold still tied across her face, but her senses were sharp—too sharp for the casual lie I was already preparing.

"Mr. Jester?" Elliot stood. "What the hell happened to you?"

I glanced down.

My suit was torn at the shoulders, blood staining the fabric in deep maroon patches that hadn't dried yet. The sleeve was nearly gone on the left side, and one of my ribs had started showing through the open seam. My shirt collar was stiff with dried blood, and glass still glittered in my hair like someone had tried to crown me with it.

"Minor...mishap," I said. "The vending machine put up a fight."

Elliot blinked.

Anika tilted her head slightly. "You are a terrible liar," she said flatly.

"I am," I agreed, and walked past them towards the supply cabinet in the bathroom. I needed bandages and Disinfectant. Anything that didn't smell like copper and fire.

Elliot followed me. "Seriously, that's not funny. You look like you went through a war."

I didn't answer. I pulled open the cabinet and grabbed a medkit. It was government-issued, no doubt stocked by the same people who had sent those assassins after me. Irony never got tired.

The small private bathroom in the cabin was quiet. I closed the door behind me and dropped the kit onto the cot. The moment I sat down, my entire body screamed.

Every movement felt wrong. Bruises formed like puzzle pieces. Cuts ran in every direction. The shard of glass had left my palm torn open, blood already drying around the wound.

I started with the basics—cleaning, stitching, wrapping. The system handled the regeneration, sure, but it needed guidance. If I left it alone too long, it would heal the wounds wrong—too strong, too quick, bone sealing over muscle and creating new problems.

I wrapped the bandages slowly, methodically.

As I worked, I picked up my phone.

Three names.

Three people who kept me grounded, even when everything else was a burning wreck.

Sienna

Camille

Alexis

I started a message.

I know where Evelyn is. Two stops east. Ministry building. I'm going after her.

I paused, then added:

I likely won't message for a while. Just... trust me a little longer.

I hit send.

The silence after felt heavier than the train fight.

I leaned back on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. Every breath felt like it had weight. Every heartbeat like it remembered someone else's pain.

I didn't close my eyes.

I didn't have the right.

Sometime later, the door cracked open. Elliot stepped in, holding a bottle of water and some protein bars.

"You shouldn't be moving," he said.

"I'm not."

He set them down beside me. "You're not seriously telling me this was a vending machine."

"No," I said. "That was sarcasm."

"Then what was it?"

I sat up slowly. "Something that needed to happen."

"That's not an answer."

"No, it's not."

He stayed standing. Arms crossed. Frown deeper than usual. "Look. I know you've been through more than you're letting on. I've tried to respect that."

"You have."

"But now I'm starting to wonder if I've been respecting a lie that I shouldn't have."

That made me pause.

He wasn't angry. Not really. He was hurt. I could see it in the way his fists weren't clenched and his voice didn't rise.

"I'm not just some intern you picked up off the street," he said. "I've earned a place here. You told me that. You let me stand beside you. So if you're going to keep walking through fire without telling us why, I need to know if I'm following a man—or a ghost."

The words settled in the room like dust.

And for once, I didn't deflect.

"You're right," I said.

Elliot blinked. "...What?"

"You're right to ask. And you deserve the truth."

I stood up—slow, deliberate. Every inch of me protested, but I pushed through it.

"I'll tell you," I said. "All of it."

His eyes widened. "...Now?"

"No. Not yet." I looked him in the eye. "But soon. After I find the person, I'm looking for. After I find Evelyn."

He nodded reluctantly, but it was a start.

I walked past him and back into the waiting lounge. Anika was still sitting there, hands folded neatly in her lap.

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"I suppose it wasn't a vending machine," she said.

"No."

Her blindfold didn't hide the smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because if you'd lost to a vending machine, I'd have to reconsider everything I believed about the government."

I exhaled something close to a laugh. "Fair enough."

She shifted slightly. "Will you be alright?"

"I have to be."

That was all there was to it.

The sun had risen fully now. The sky outside the station glowed faint gold. There was something cleansing about it, even if I knew better than to trust the quiet between disasters.

Mark hadn't returned. I didn't ask where he went. He was cleaning up. Tying off loose ends. Doing the work I couldn't.

I looked down at my hand—wrapped in gauze now. The fingers still trembled when I made a fist.

Fourteen bodies. Maybe fifteen if you counted Connor. Maybe more if Mark had been thorough with the bodyguards.

But Evelyn was close.

I could feel her.

And when I found her—

No. If I found her, I'd find out if there was anything left of the person I trusted on my team.

That, more than the cuts or the bruises, was the part that scared me.

That night, I sat alone on a seat just outside our cabin. I'd refused the bed. It was too soft and too clean. I wasn't ready for softness yet.

I checked my messages.

Sienna had responded.

"Please be careful. I know you're always trying to carry the weight by yourself. But we're still here. Don't forget that."

Camille had sent one too.

"If you die without telling me where you keep the wine stash, I'm haunting you."

And Alexis, ever the scientist:

"Are you injured? Make sure to take care of yourself."

I closed my eyes.

Let the silence settle in.

Then heard footsteps behind me.

Elliot again.

He sat beside me this time.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No."

"Good," he said. "Means you're still human."

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then, finally:

"As much as I admire the Masked Syndicate... as much as I respect Mr. Jester..."

I looked at him.

He looked back.

"I feel like I deserve to know the truth."

I didn't flinch.

Didn't smile.

Didn't deflect.

"You're right," I said again. "You do."

And this time—I meant it.