Simon sat on his bed, watching the door.

He had been waiting for Necrotize to return, and he had spent a good portion of the day working himself up to a decision, that when his roommate walked in, he would greet him properly. Necrotize had been nothing but friendly since their first meeting yesterday. Flinching every time he came near was probably making things uncomfortable for both of them.

That had been the plan.

Then today had happened.

The morning had been unsettling enough, those strange clouds assembling overhead, the thunderous roar that came with them, and then that blinding white light flooding the entire academy at once. The afternoon had been considerably worse. The black clouds rotating in a vortex above the academy had nearly made him soil himself, and when that bolt of lightning the width of the whole campus descended toward them, he had been entirely certain, in that moment, that his life was over. But a protective shield had enclosed the academy completely, and the strike had never landed on anyone. He didn’t know whether it had been Chancellor Eric or Lord Necrotize who had done it. Whoever it was, Simon was deeply, personally grateful to them.

He’d been outside near a tree by the Alchemy Department when all of it happened, so he had no idea that every window in the academy had shattered, that books had flown from shelves and objects from desks, and he certainly didn’t know that Necrotize had snapped his fingers and restored all of it afterward.

He sat on his bed, waiting.

His throat had gone dry, so he poured himself some water and raised the mug to his lips.

At which point Necrotize teleported directly onto his bed. Seated on the bed across from him, as though he had always been there.

Simon’s face went white.

His hands lost their function. His legs forgot what they were for. The mug was already tilting and his body, operating entirely without his input, completed the motion.

Water flew directly into Necrotize’s face.

Simon’s mind went very quiet for a moment. Then it started running at tremendous speed.

What did I just do? I spat water at Lord Necrotize. I, directly, into his face. He will definitely kill me. It doesn’t matter how friendly he’s been. There is no forgiveness for this. I deserve death. This is where my journey ends.

He paused internally.

But it wasn’t a bad journey. I made it into the academy. I even had the God of Destruction as a roommate. How many people can say that? It was a good life. Short, but genuinely good. I have no regrets.

He began, quietly and sincerely, making his peace with the end.

Necrotize wiped his eyes with two fingers and said nothing for a moment.

He was laughing internally. Very loudly.

Because this had been entirely his own doing. The moment Simon had started to spit out the water, Necrotize had deliberately dropped every protective barrier around himself, the ones that would have deflected anything before it could reach him, specifically to let the water land. He had been curious to see what would happen.

It had exceeded expectations.

A towel materialised in his hand. He dried his face at a reasonable pace, then looked at Simon with a mildly curious expression.

"That’s a surprisingly effective method of welcoming someone back. I wasn’t aware such a custom existed." He tilted his head slightly. "Interesting."

A small smile followed.

"Good evening, Simon. You seem as lively as ever."

"Ah, good evening, my lord." Simon managed that much before his mouth caught up with his brain. "Are you going to kill me now?"

The smile didn’t move.

"Why would I kill you? Is there a reason I should?"

Simon chose his words very carefully.

"I have committed a grave offence against you. I threw water directly into your face. The minimum appropriate consequence for a sin of that magnitude is surely death."

"Sin?" Necrotize said, with what sounded like genuine puzzlement. "I assumed this was a local greeting custom. Isn’t it?"

Simon stared at him.

He processed this for a moment.

He thinks... he thinks this was intentional. He’s connecting it to some cultural practice from somewhere he’s observed across the history of civilisation. He’s seen every culture that has ever existed. He must be mixing this up with something he saw once. I don’t know if any such custom exists. But Lord Necrotize does not appear to be aware of that uncertainty. And I will absolutely not be the one to correct him.

Simon arranged his face into an expression of complete composure.

"Yes, my lord. I hope you found it to your liking."

The smile on Necrotize’s face deepened.

"Certainly. Though I would appreciate it if, going forward, you greeted me in a somewhat less aquatic manner."

"Of course, my lord. I’ll greet you normally from now on."

Simon said all of this with total calm. Inside, something was simultaneously celebrating and absolutely falling apart.

I think I just outwitted the God of Destruction. I don’t know what happens next. But I have survived this specific moment.

He exhaled very quietly.

There were things Simon desperately wanted to ask about the day’s events. He didn’t have the nerve to bring any of them up. So he let them go.

Necrotize caught the thoughts and said nothing either. He could have offered an explanation. He chose not to. Instead, he lay back on his bed.

Today had been draining in ways that had nothing to do with physical exertion. He couldn’t actually feel exhaustion, not truly, but the weight of the day was something else. It had been a day he hadn’t particularly enjoyed.

Except for one part.

He had become proper friends with Lyra. They had helped each other the way friends at an academy were supposed to. That part had been good. Actually good. Elizabeth also became a little friendly. Not friends exactly, but friendlier than before.

He stared at the ceiling of the dormitory room, and found himself, despite everything, looking forward to tomorrow.