Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 46: The Favor

Veric gives me a sideways glare, his eyes narrowed with the kind of calculated suspicion only a born noble can muster.

He isn’t stupid.

He knows the Academy administration normally doesn’t give a damn about what students do to each other, unless it involves a massive loss of Guild capital or something extremely severe.

"Change of plans," I tell him, leaning against the doorframe of our new suite. "I need to handle this administration issue alone. Having you three standing next to me while I’m about to be ’punished’ isn’t good for optics. We separate for now."

I point a finger at Veric.

"You watch the girls. You have a noble crest on your chest; nobody is going to risk a diplomatic incident by trying to touch them while you’re in charge."

Veric doesn’t like being sidelined, but the logic is airtight. He gives a stiff nod, taking his position as the heavily armored babysitter.

I caught a flash of something in his eyes—he didn’t like this. Not one bit.

That night, sleep feels like a luxury I can’t afford. The Top Graded mattress is too soft, the air too clean. I lie there staring at the ceiling, my mind running through worst-case scenarios, when Rhayne’s voice breaks the heavy silence of the dark room.

"Why didn’t you tell them?" she whispers from her bed. "About my ability. Why did you keep it a secret from the rest of the team?"

I don’t turn to look at her right away.

"Because Veric already looks at you like he’s running the math on whether you’re worth the space you occupy. If he knew what you actually do—that you’re a living battery—he would never look at you as a person again."

I shift, turning my head to meet her gaze in the shadows.

"And people who don’t see you as a person make bad decisions at the wrong time. That hurts my bottom line. It gets me killed."

Rhayne just stares at me in the dim light. I can practically see her dissecting the words, searching the unspoken spaces between my cynical pragmatism for whatever scrap of humanity she thinks I’m trying to hide.

I don’t give her the chance to find it. I turn my back to her and force myself to sleep.

The next morning, I slip out of the dorms like a ghost. Rhayne doesn’t wake up—or at least, she is smart enough to pretend she doesn’t.

It is extremely early. The Academy is a deserted, quiet tomb, completely devoid of the usual arrogant chatter.

I make my way to Rae’s office.

The heavy oak door is unlocked. I push it open and step inside.

Rae is already sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, softly stirring a cup of steaming tea. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. He looks exactly like a spider watching a fly land on the web.

"Dryden," he says, his voice a smooth, practiced purr. "Please, take a seat. You look remarkably well for a boy who was experiencing multiple organ failure three days ago." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

I don’t sit. I stay standing right where I am.

"You sent the summons. I’m here."

Rae takes a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, letting the silence stretch.

"You owe me your life. I trust you haven’t forgotten that rather important detail," he says, setting the porcelain cup down. "However, it seems saving you from that Reef Stalker was only the beginning of my administrative headaches."

He picks up a holographic datapad and tosses it onto the center of the desk. It immediately lights up, projecting a series of glowing red Academy seals.

"The noble houses are calling for your blood," Rae continues, leaning back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers. "Three Red Beams in ten minutes during the Battle Royale. You didn’t just survive; you humiliated their heirs. They are formally accusing you of using ’excessive, lethal force.’ You are scheduled to face a disciplinary tribunal by the end of the week. I’m sure you know the penalty for a Rank-F Shell severely injuring a noble is usually a quiet, permanent expulsion into the Void."

He pauses, waiting for me to panic. Waiting for me to beg.

I don’t flinch. I just stare at him, my expression perfectly deadpan, letting his theatrical threat hang in the air until it loses its weight.

"And what exactly do you need?" I ask.

Rae smiles. It’s the kind of smile that makes you check the exits.

"You are exceptionally smart, Dryden. I can simply forget about your little debt and sweep all this bureaucracy and pathetic noble whining right under the rug. All you have to do is a single favor for me."

"Skip the pitch," I say flatly. "Just tell me the plan."

Rae folds his hands on the desk. "There is a rare material called a WaterStrand inside a restricted training zone. The catch is that even I, as a Rank-A, am barred from entering. It’s a student-only domain. Convenient, isn’t it?"

"Why me?" I ask.

Rae holds up two fingers. "First, I recognize that your tactical intelligence is entirely unique. This mission requires exactly that. Second, because you are a Rank-F Shell, absolutely no one will ever suspect you have the capacity to pull this off. You are functionally invisible."

He leans back, his eyes flashing with a cold, political malice.

"Furthermore, when you succeed, I want you to flaunt it. I want you to provoke Freya Gunnulf with your prize. I need you to shake her hegemony in this Academy. She is protected by the Dean, and her flawless reputation is obstructing my plans."

I stare at him, keeping my expression perfectly neutral. I know exactly what this is. This isn’t an offer or a negotiation. It is an execution order. Refuse, and he’ll let the tribunal crush me—or he’ll just do it himself.

"What’s the target?" I ask.

"You are going to extract the WaterStrand from the engine room of the Procedural Train Station," Rae says softly.

He wants me to steal the core that controls an entire training sector of the Academy. That’s not a favor. That’s a heist. And heists are exactly my kind of problem.

"When do I start?" I ask.

"The moment you walk out that door," Rae replies, turning his attention back to his paperwork as if I have already ceased to exist.

I nod, turn on my heel, and grab the heavy brass handle.

I push the door open and step out of the office. But the moment my boots hit the marble floor of the corridor, the temperature plummets, freezing the breath in my lungs.

The hallway isn’t deserted anymore.

Standing less than twenty feet away, leaning casually against the stone wall with her arms crossed, is Freya Gunnulf. Frost is literally creeping up the marble around her boots.

Her piercing blue eyes lock directly onto mine, and she offers a slow, chilling smile.

"Going somewhere, partner?" she asks.