After Stini and I handed the young scalper of rare gear to the Heretic Inquisition, the matter slipped from our hands like a kite cut loose.

We got a token bounty per the rules, a coin on a temple tray, and the Heretic Inquisitor at reception thanked us with both palms. He said they’d share updates the moment they had any—the Hero’s privilege for a regular who delivers felons, a stamp on our tab.

In practice it’s like a morning paper thudding on the doorstep; by the time they inform us, the sun’s already past noon. So yeah—put some faith in the official mill; its slow grind still turns the grain.

Stini crumpled the abridged report meant for Chairman Maki into a paper pebble and stuffed it into her desk. It was all lukewarm notices. “We netted a human anti–Demonfolk cell called Embers in Ash via Heretic Inquisition.” “They want to stoke fear with terror strikes.” “Headcount is a few stray cats, not worth a ledger line.” “But the source of their terror tools is unknown; trail cold.” Words as thin as smoke.

Look at that. The artifact I turned in—the one that throws an instant-death check on every normal person within a radius—didn’t rate a name. They waved it off as “a terror tool,” like brushing dust off a sleeve.

Stini stayed calm as a winter pond. She probably respects professional lines. Let the Heretic Inquisition handle it; if they can’t, the Hero cleans up after. Or maybe she’s just planning to slack. A cat stretching in a patch of sun.

An overpowered Hero to the masses, and a too-weak official agency in the eyes of villains—today their gears mesh, oil and water pretending to be tea.

Whatever dirty bargaining or big-shot pride sits under that plot you could split into a two-part side story, the Hero Squad is steady as an old pine.

Right now, we’re down to one breath, listening to Headmaster Augustus scold us, his words falling like hail on a tin roof.

Martial Track’s exit exam: keep your vital points untouched and land a clean hit on Augustus. Twenty people per round. If you hit him once before everyone’s eliminated, you pass. Clear as a drumbeat.

From Vice Principal Gugwen’s apologetic tone, this whole exam feels like something that bastard Augustus slapped together on a whim, a thunderclap without clouds.

I don’t want to say how much of this targets my side, or how shameless a half-god in human skin—a former Hero—can be. Bottom line… I passed with a nose like an eggplant and a body stacked with debuffs, a scarecrow that somehow stayed standing.

Under more than half the classroom’s contemptuous stares, our dear headmaster tossed off an impromptu speech, then patted his rear and went to date his wife. The righteous anger in the room cooled like a kettle taken off the flame.

Stini giggled strangely and fished out a few gilt-edged coupons, her eyes flashing like coins catching firelight.

Six tickets to “Purified Nation Helena: Endless Sea—Seven Days Free.” Her personal lottery haul. Not a kingdom gift to the Hero Squad. No need to split by the usual rules—gear by need, money by headcount. A blade with no obligation to share.

So Stini slipping this under the table isn’t wrong. A fox hiding grapes in her sleeve.

“Let’s travel together, while it’s winter break!” Her voice rang like a bell in clear air.

Yeah. Nothing wrong with that…

“Mm… fair point. Stini, what’s your plan?” Raven, whose default mood is cheeks puffed like a sulking pufferfish, had just shown the professors a near-miraculous bit of explosive crafting. She was now draped over her desk like a rag, while gentle Elina wiped the soot off her face, a handkerchief like falling snow.

Thankfully, unlike Stini, Raven’s a solid student. Even if her exit exam score flopped, her usual grades can patch the roof. A lantern stays lit even after a gust.

Raven only acts her age—laughing, unguarded—around Stini. With me, the puffed-cheek index rises sixty percent, a storm swell under a calm moon.

“Mm-hmm. I vote for the southern Endless Sea. Winter there feels like spring—the wind soft as warm tide.”

Stini, solemn like I’ve never seen, a priestess before an altar.

“And?” I spread my hands for more. I could smell a bad idea like smoke in dry grass, but cutting her off now risks ruining business for both of us. Two boats, one rope.

“I found a special channel… legal! We can get seven days and nights of luxury at three-quarters—no, half the usual price.” Her whisper flicked like a fishing line.

Oh. I get it.

Sir Andor kept a straight face. Lately even my “straight face” got read a few times, so I’ve been reflecting. Maybe my so-called blank is just tiny twitches around the mouth. If you’re sharp, you can see ripples on the lake.

Now presenting Andor: Expressionless, Final Form.

I let the complaints flow inside and not spill. So you’re planning to sell to us? How broke is our Hero? You can’t be generous for once? My breath frosted on that thought.

Elina gave me a helpless smile, her cat ears drooping like wilted leaves. She turned back to comb Raven’s singed hair, shrinking her presence to a velvet shadow. She’s a princess of Helena; if she wants to travel home, one word opens the palace gate.

Gloria immediately rummaged for her wallet, gold-rimmed leather peeking like a sunlit scale. That’s the rich at work. As the sixth in line for Colonna, her allowance could stack higher than she is tall. Never asks how much—only when.

Raven did the math, pinched her thin wallet, then went “waaah” and flopped onto Stini. A sparrow crashing into a pillow.

“I… spot me, please! Colonna’s collecting upgrade plans for the otherworld Hero, the Dragon Exorcist’s magi-arms. I’ve got a draft! If they pick it, I’ll repay you first thing!” Raven pleaded with a sweet sob, hugging Stini’s chest, then sliding down to her waist like a slinky.

“Uh… how could I ditch my childhood friend. I’ll give you… not free, not free—thirty percent of the price.” She choked on the word “free” like a fishbone.

Stini’s tug-of-war between heart and coin was hilarious. A crane pulling against a turtle.

Especially since Nivifar—who moved into the Hero Academy with my funding—told me Stini, upon returning, played dumb and shoved her a ticket first chance she got. So in the end, a parachuted little-sis type you’ve met a handful of times beats a childhood friend. Fate’s scales tilt with a feather.

I’m also looking forward to her face when she learns the tickets mean we all ride the same airship. When the Hero Squad meets Nivifar midair, let’s see her explanation swim.

Liking to watch others flounder in awkwardness counts as a kind of playful sadism. Call it a little devil vibe. It has fans. Easier to swallow than the heavy whip-and-chain kind.

Fine. I’ll chip in with everyone. I drew a few Colonna gold coins from the Shadow, their edges winking like crescent moons. I thought a bit, then tossed Stini a few more to front for Raven—even though I don’t expect her draft to survive a public cull.

To Stini, whose pupils turned into Colonna coins, this blackmail material could last a year. A cat with a bell in her paw.

Too bad. The moment she netted a whole bag of Colonna gold with empty hands, her hot little brain cooled like soup off the stove. She remembered the tickets came from my own business. As the boss, I’d know their origin. So at midnight she knocked on my door in lingerie—same as last night, when she knocked to borrow money. A moth returning to the same lamp.

She’d schemed with her dad to throw heavy bets on me failing the exit exam. Rain money on the odds and watch me drown.

Tonight she came to split the take. First, give back my cut. Then, skim one coin from each person’s payment and hand it to me… a rake hidden under velvet.

“This way I barely earn anything!” She plopped on my big bed like a sulking duck, toes splayed, voice long as a sigh.

“You got a bag of coins for nothing. Zero-cost plays mean you learn contentment in business.” I held a coin up to the light, watching its shine like a slice of sunrise. I flicked it with a fingernail—ping, crisp as a small bell. Good. True Colonna purity. Next coin.

It’s not that I don’t trust Stini. It’s that she once paid me in fakes hand-polished so well they could fool a crow. Of course, as a Hero she only ever scammed me, never the kind souls of the Hero Academy.

When she tried to rub my arm with her chest to reclaim the purse, I nudged her out the door and slid one coin back through the crack to buy quiet. A coin to settle wind and waves.

Ah. The plan flows smooth, the world looks kind. I almost want a glass of whiskey to toast the moon.

I sank into my favorite high-back chair. I drew my plan from the Shadow and opened it, leaf by leaf like a dark flower. I read the next steps slowly.

My forefinger touched a line, a tap like a drop on still water.

Western Endless Sea. Time Ruins. Three days until the prophesied opening.