The Hero of a Thousand Deaths

  Part One:

  The Wolves Who Cried Boy

  CHAPTER THREE

  For the first time in his tenure as the Carlisle School housemaid, Ryō failed to complete the sanctioned cleaning checklist. He was suffering from a hangover of sorts, enervated by the harsh comedown that followed the high of reading Emery's letter. Lyrics from the letter rang in his ears, the girl's song proving to be both a soothing lullaby and an overstimulating death metal ballad to the boy. One moment, it was music to his ears. The next, a military Bugle call blared through the speakers.

  I'm never going to be able to sleep again...

  Stuck in a circus of mixed emotions, Ryō alternated back and forth between panic attacks and indulging in the daydream of his and Emery's imagined lives together in the outside world. Sure, the girl made it apparent that she was interested in the boy, but it seemed Emery wanted him the same way Bonnie wanted Clyde––and playing the antihero lover type was not a role poor Ryō felt he was cut out for. After all, the boy's only prior acting experience was being cast as the tree in the background.

  Unsurprisingly, Ryō didn’t manage a single wink of sleep. He never even made it to bed, spending the whole night on the floor beside the nightlight, dwelling on the empty ceiling above.

  This has been the longest day of my life...

  Though it took a while, exhaustion eventually crept up on the boy. Soft pillows and a comfy mattress called Ryō's name from the bed, seducing him to commit infidelity. Now that a lustful dalliance with sleep was back on the cards, the boy was ready to leave his hard flooring for the touch of a gentler woman.

  Sleep sounds so nice... Yeah, I should take a nap before my 5:30 trial session begins...

  Even if there was only enough time for a quickie, Ryō was depraved enough to take anything he could get at this point. Using whatever energy he had left, the boy hoisted himself off the floor and into bed. Once there, he removed his glasses and placed them on the nearby nightstand before grabbing a pillow to coddle. The boy kneaded himself into the sheets, molding a perfect Ryō-sized indent as the bed absorbed him into its embrace.

  So warm and soft... Ryō swooned, nestling his cheek into the pillow.

  Within five seconds, his body relaxed and softened. Within ten seconds, he was practically unconscious.

  "Aughhhhh..." A massive yawn condensed the boy's exhaustion, forcing his heavy eyelids to shut.

  Now, thirty seconds later, Ryō was out cold.

  Honk-Shoo-Honk-Shoo. His breathing lulled into gentle snores...

  Unfortunately for the boy, this peaceful moment––like all the others that came before it––was destined to be short-lived.

  BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. The bedside alarm clock shrilled a raucous three-beat scream from the nightstand.

  Ryō's bloodshot eyes cracked open. A lack of sleep already plagued the boy's skull with pressure, but now, with the added shrill of the alarm clock, that pressure was at risk of splitting into a full-blown migraine.

  BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.

  "Uhhh..." Ryō moaned at the shrieking alarm as if the two were in the middle of an argument.

  BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.

  The boy rolled over to face his boisterous bedside aggressor, inviting it to repeatedly project 5:00 A.M. on his forehead in bright red flashes.

  BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. Despite staring directly at the blaring alarm clock, Ryō was too weak to stop its tantrum.

  "Uhhh...."

  BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP––SMACK. After a long sigh, the boy slapped the shouting contraption and knocked it unconscious.

  Silence befell the room. Every fiber in Ryō's body pleaded with him to pull the sheets over his head and disappear into unconscious oblivion. The stark return to serenity was damning, in a way. It made leaving the bed feel like an even greater sin to the boy.

  Just one more minute, the seductress of sleep begged Ryō to stay in bed.

  These sensual pleas were so seductive in their allure that the boy surrendered upon the first request. Shutting his eyes, he let the warmth of the sheets incubate him into unconsciousness...

  God dammit. Ryō's eyes flashed back open. The boy knew he couldn't stay in bed, no matter how enticing it sounded.

  I really, really don't want to get up...

  Before any unctuous demons of sloth could further threaten Ryō with their coercions, the boy cut the cord, sideways somersaulting onto the hard floor in a last-ditch attempt to wake himself up.

  “Ow…”

  The attempt proved successful––Ryō was awake now. As it turns out, physical pain was a rather effective panacea for wakefulness.

  The boy was neither here nor there as Dr. Mitoma finished securing an electrode to his neck.

  I'm not crazy, right? Emery actually said that she wants to escape? Like... escape-escape? Like... 'with-me' escape?

  Each of Ryō’s thoughts seemed to be accented by a question mark as he flung himself from branch to branch, searching for a sense of direction in the dense jungle of his mind.

  Did Emery actually kill someone? Is she serious about the escape? With me? Why? What is going on?

  Ryō glanced around the vast concrete room. Something about it seemed different now than it had the day prior. For the first time since the early days of his childhood, the place looked and felt foreign to him.

  The boy adjusted his glasses, but there wasn't a prescription lens in the world strong enough to bring Ryō clarity right now. Especially when the word, escape, was bouncing around in his head like an unwanted groupie.

  “Oh, looks like your girlfriend is here too,” Dr. Mitoma abruptly announced.

  Ryō didn’t need to look––he knew exactly who the doctor was referencing. Hell, maybe it was too risky to look anyway.

  I wonder if Mitoma knows about the letter... No–no way, he couldn't... But what if someone saw us on the security cameras?

  Paranoia began to brew inside the boy. He had never broken the rules or gotten in trouble before––not even once––and illicit defecting, aka "escaping," was the pinnacle of trouble. One of the first things they learned as Junior Heathens was that every possible infraction of the Carlisle School's code of conduct had a corollary punishment. And the punishment for illicit defecting? Well, that would be execution.

  Execution…

  Ryō gulped at the idea. His imagination began to run wild, flooding the boy's mind with all the creative ways the CGP might carry out his prescribed demise.

  Eve unleashing a guillotine on his neck...

  Dr. Mitoma injecting him with a lethal dose of pentobarbital...

  Jeff forcing him to eat Post-It notes until he asphyxiated on soggy paper...

  Eager to magnetize his focus and win this personal game of 20 Questions, Ryō planted his chin onto one fist and leaned forward in his seat. This new posture was instrumental in supplying the boy with the concentration necessary to continue arbitrarily nitpicking at the semantics of the punishment he might face.

  I wonder who does the physical execution? Does the CGP have a designated executor? When was the last time they executed––

  “What the heck are they trying to execute now?” Dr. Mitoma's sudden comment vacuumed the boy's soul from his body.

  “They’re executing someone?!” Ryō shouted himself out of his seat.

  Dr. Mitoma analyzed the sweaty boy panting above him like a traumatized World War II veteran.

  “No,” the man gestured toward the adjacent room with one finger, “I was talking about the kiddy pool.”

  The kiddy pool? Ryō silently followed the man’s finger to the other room...

  Sure enough, a kiddy pool had been positioned directly in front of a wheelchair-bound Emery, water brimming at its top. Crackling static preluded the arousal of the large monitor hanging above the scene. Upon coming to life, the screen revealed a surgical camera’s POV of the girl's index finger. Besides the kiddy pool, everything was the same as the day prior, Emery's right hand once again fixed inside a familiar bomb-squad glove equipped with a needle.

  What the hell are they making her do now?

  “So-chm,” Dr. Mitoma cleared his throat, “How are we doing today, Ryō?”

  The boy turned to face the man but never made eye contact. Unlike in recent weeks, Ryō chewed on the question asked of him. Even stranger, he began to digest an answer.

  Ryō sighed through his nostrils and shrugged, “Not too bad, I guess.”

  Expecting that to be a lie, Dr. Mitoma scrutinized the monitor only to be met with an affirmative green checkmark and a high-pitched jingle.

  “Wow!” Dr. Mitoma was exuberant, “So you’re not doing bad or lying about doing good––that’s great Ryō! That's really, really great.”

  Is it great? Ryō scoffed. Is it really, really great?

  Zoning out in preparation for the typical battery of mundane psychiatric questions coming his way, the boy let his eyes fog over. To Ryō's surprise, however, those questions never came. Instead, Dr. Mitoma removed his glasses to aim a plastic, clandestine smile through the boy. Something about the man's facial expression sent shivers running down Ryō's spine.

  Why is he looking at me like that?

  “I’m glad you’re not doing bad today, Ryō because there’s something that Lara and I need to talk to you about. Seeing that you’re in a good mood, I don’t see much of a purpose in going through all the bells and whistles," Dr. Mitoma slapped his knees and sprung to his feet, "Why don’t we make our way into the trial office? She should be here any moment.”

  Okay, this is weird. The boy thought to himself.

  Although sleep deprivation wasn't exactly doing Ryō any favors in the cognition department, he immediately got the impression that something was off.

  Shouldn’t Lara be watching Emery?

  Ryō’s gaze drifted into the adjacent room right as Dr. Mitoma began to peel the sticky electrodes from the boy's vital points.

  “Let me just go ahead and get these off of you..."

  Next door, all eyes were on the trickle of Emery’s blood. The crimson drop had levitated off her finger and now hovered above the kiddy pool in mid-air.

  Woah...

  Ryō watched in amazement as the blood descended toward the brimming lip of the water. The instant the dark red substance made contact with the water, it started to unfurl. Gyrating, the blood fanned outwards, spreading thinner and thinner until it coated the entire circumference of the kiddy pool like a hemoglobin-soaked crepe.

  Ssshhhhh. Icy mist sizzled from the top of the pool, gradually clouding up the whole room with vapor.

  Schk. The final electrode was ripped from the boy's carotid, peeling a layer of skin off with it.

  "Ow," Ryō winced from the original pain right as Dr. Mitoma gave the boy an annoying slap on the shoulder and said, “Alrighty, all set. Let’s head to the office."

  For a second, the pair stared at one another in silence. Dr. Mitoma looked confused, cocking his head to the side like a befuddled Pomeranian.

  "I-I'm sorry Ryō, I didn't think I slapped you that hard."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "You didn't." Ryō groaned and rubbed his stinging neck.

  Dr. Mitoma analyzed him with scrunched eyebrows, "Are you lying to preserve your masculinity? It's okay to tell me if I hurt you."

  Ryō clenched his teeth to stop himself from biting the man, peering back to Emery's room. Before the boy could get a good look, Dr. Mitoma stepped forward to block his view.

  "Come on, champ. Let's head to the office, huh?" Dr. Mitoma placed one cold hand on Ryō's shoulder and gestured for the boy to follow him.

  Ryō acquiesced, traipsing behind Dr. Mitoma as the man escorted him up to the tinted glass door of the staff office.

  "Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything." Dr. Mitoma said with his back facing the boy.

  The doctor reversed to showcase a strap-on smile, "Lara and I agreed that with graduation coming up, now would be a good time to bring you in for a private chat to discuss your future here at the CGP, that's all."

  With that said, Dr. Mitoma turned around and unlocked the door by tapping his ID badge against its security transponder. Ryō used the man's subdued attention to sneak one final glimpse of his lover's results in the adjacent trial room...

  Inside Emery's station, the vaporous fog had evaporated, revealing a jaw-dropping sight: the kiddy pool was now frozen solid.

  The staff trial office was dim and claustrophobic. Ryō sat in a chair across from the side-by-side pair of Dr. Mitoma and Lara. Given the room was a tinted vacuum with no circulation, the trio’s arrhythmic breathing soaked up the silence, filling the void with brooding anticipation.

  What the hell is this all about?

  Ryō could tell by the prolonged silence––and the juxtaposition of Dr. Mitoma’s pedophilic strap-on smile with the holographic micro-frown of Lara––that something was up. The last time they had one of these three-way meetings, Lara and the doctor told the boy he wouldn’t be graduating.

  Whatever the purpose of this meeting was, Ryō got the sense it wasn’t celebratory. On top of that, he was growing antsier and antsier in the spotlight of Dr. Mitoma’s unrelenting smile. Seriously, is he going to say something or just fucking sit there and smile at me like a pedophile?

  Increasingly irritated and itchy in the awkward silence, Ryō began to ambulate the room with his eyes to tame his restlessness. This optical jog led the boy to a realization. A horrible realization. A realization he hoped he'd never have to face.

  No...

  A storm was coming. A storm Ryō knew deep down would eventually reach his doorstep, even if he'd put years of effort into ignoring the forecast.

  No, it can’t be…

  Hanging above and between his keepers was a calendar.

  What's today? The boy fastened his eyes on the almanac in an attempt to unblur his view––

  Fuckkkkk....

  As encircled by a red marker, today's date was the 16th of November. On its own, this date meant nothing. But to Ryō, it meant everything. The boy had so much on his plate that he'd completely forgotten he was seven days away from being a man.

  “Is this about my birthday?” Ryō abruptly broke the silence.

  There was a sense of relief in the boy being the one to instigate the conversation.

  “Yes.” Lara and Dr. Mitoma responded in synchrony.

  Despite their replies being identical on paper, the two CGP agents delivered a fraternal pair of 'yes's'––the doctor’s being upbeat and perfunctory, the woman's grim and hesitant. Ryō took more feedback from Lara’s response.

  Oh no… Why did she make that face?

  Silence once again culminated. Before Ryō could ask the damning follow-up question, the doctor answered it for him.

  “The board has voted and decided upon my suggestion that you should be released upon your eighteenth birthday.”

  No. NO. NO-NO-NO.

  Ryō’s desperate eyes fell onto Lara, pleading with her. The woman quickly glanced away, unable to look at the boy.

  Released. The boy was frozen in time. Released… Released? Released?!

  Ryō’s biggest fear had just been realized.

  They’re releasing me…

  In one week's time, he would no longer be a Carlisle Student. In one week's time, the boy would be just another civilian in the outside world. In one week's time, his lifelong dream of being a superhero would come to a screeching halt. Most painfully of all, in just seven days his status as a powerless loser would be cemented onto the walls of history...forever.

  “I’m sorry Ryō, Eve made the ultimate decision. I couldn’t do anything to change her mind,” Lara choked back tears, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  The boy couldn’t coordinate his lips, jaw, and mind. He was trapped, drowning where he sat. Rotating round and round in his own chaotic inertia…

  Sorry? She’s sorry?! That’s it, just sorry?!

  The vortex sucked Ryō in deeper. W-why… This can’t be happening…

  An image of Emery dropped into the center of Ryō’s mind and spread like ink in water.

  What do I tell her? That I don't even need to escape because they are kicking me out anyway?

  Hot tears formed behind Ryō's eyes, glazing them.

  “C-can I leave?” The words dribbled out of the boy's mouth.

  “Nope,” Dr. Mitoma replied, jovial and electrically irritating as ever, “I’m required to run you through all the details and legalities.”

  Ryō’s dead eyes honed in on the doctor, who smiled and presented a stack of documents. You motherfucker.

  Upon noticing the choleric scowl on the boy's face, Dr. Mitoma held his hands up in defense.

  “Hey, hey! Don’t shoot the messenger,” the doctor garnished his already maddening downplaying of the situation with a desultory laugh.

  Lara now joined Ryō in glaring at Dr. Mitoma. “Didn’t you just say that you were the one who recommended him for release?” She bit at the man.

  “Well, yeah…” Dr. Mitoma undulated his head and shrugged, uneasy in the stewing tension. “Look, these are just minor details. Now, the sooner we get through this legal stuff, the sooner we can put this whole thing behind us and end your time here at Carlisle as friends.”

  Fuck you, was the only thing Ryō could think to say. And so the boy said nothing, lamenting Dr. Mitoma in silence as the man began reciting excerpts from the stack of paperwork in his hands.

  “Okay, so repeat after me before signing...” Dr. Mitoma raised his eyes to catch a snapshot of the seething boy before continuing, “I––you’ll just say your name here––promise via legal counsel to, upon my official defection into civilian life, make no mention, documentation, or reference thereby about or in regards to the Columbus Genome Project, Carlisle School, and any-slash-all affiliated programs and information.”

  Dr. Mitoma punctuated that punch to the gut by extending a pen and the first page of the contract to Ryō, “You don’t seem like you’re in the mood to talk so just go ahead and sign it for me if you don’t mind, Ryō.”

  Fuck you.

  Lively chatter buzzed and billowed inside the sweet-smelling banquet hall. A cheerful gayety seemed to pour out of the air ducts, orchestrating a merry scene that felt like Christmas at Hogwarts. Officiating this celebration was a party banner made from shimmering letters; strung above the main stage, it read:

  C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S V A S S A L S

  Students from the graduating Omega Class were congregated on the grand wooden pews of the central dining table. They sat before an oasis of continental breakfast foods, drooling at the Mecca of foreign delicacies like a pack of weary pilgrims. Danishes, pancakes, dessert syrups, and sweet omelets; this delicious feast of unhealthy dishes was wholly alien to the students. Having been limited to bland nutritious meals their entire lives, they'd never seen––let alone eaten––meals like these before. Suffice it to say, it was well and truly grins-galore at the graduation dinner.

  Not everyone was smiling, though––

  Pan slightly to the left, and you’d notice one kid sitting by himself at a periphery table. This kid was Ryō. Glaring at the meal before him as though it was an edible form of Lou, the boy was visibly chagrined. Written in clunky white foam, whipped cream calligraphy mocked Ryō from the penthouse floor of his pancake stack––

  C O N G R A T S !

  Congrats on what?

  Ryō forked the whipped cream, smothering its message until only "RATS!" remained legible.

  Being the only student to ever get kicked out of Carlisle for being superpower-retardant?

  The boy white-knuckled the fork in his hand, suffocating under a mudslide of emotion.

  I guess that makes me super-retarded...

  Over and over Ryō watched his entire boring and unexceptional life play behind the whites of his eyes. Per usual, the boy was the black sheep––the one off-key note in the burgeoning orchestra.

  “I’m glad they’re finally kicking that freak out.” Lou’s voice rose above the chaos, pulling Ryō’s consciousness back into the room.

  Someone shushed Lou. This someone was likely Aaiju, given Ryō heard the girl whisper, “Lou, stop––he’ll hear you. Don’t be mean," soon after.

  Ryō didn't need to look; the boy already knew he was the freak Lou was referring to. But alas, he looked over anyway––

  Sure enough, the clique of five students surrounding Lou all side-eyed the boy like Forks High School students who'd just seen a Cullen.

  Whatever, Ryō thought, diverting his gaze back onto the stack of pancake-bullies between his fists.

  R A T S !

  The boy released a long sigh, loosening his fists and surrendering the fork from its stranglehold. Much to his own surprise, Ryō wasn’t angry. He wasn't angry because Lou was right––he was a freak, and he deserved to get kicked out.

  I'm fucking useless...

  Ryō let the fork slip out of his fingers and plop onto the meal before him. Another heavy sigh followed; fed up with thinking about himself, the boy covertly checked over his shoulder in the direction where Emery was parked––the girl was oblivious to him, wide-eyed and gawking at the stage with an open mouth.

  For once, Ryō couldn’t bear the sight of his beloved, already cringing at the idea of having to tell her he was being released.

  I'm sorry, Emery... I'm sorry I'm such a loser...

  The dejected boy looked away, sinking into personal oblivion. Before Ryō could dissociate again, Lou blurted something out that ripped the scab off his dormant anger, “Hopefully he takes the crazy bitch in the wheelchair with him. I hope they’re both gone when we get ba––”

  SMASH-CLATTER! Ryō walloped his meal with a haymaker, sending whipped cream, pancake bits, and fragments of ceramic plate flying in every direction.

  “Don’t fucking talk about her like that!” He screamed.

  Well, that was a quick way to make a room fall silent. All eyes were now on Ryō, who sharpened his arrowed pupils at Lou. The air became a fraying rope that had every spectator holding their breath, anxiously waiting for it to snap.

  After an awkward pause, Lou started laughing. Not like normal "ha-ha" laughing, but like "Donald-Trump-watching-a-liberal-heckler-being-tackled-by-Secret-Service-agents-during-a-rally" laughing. The performative nature of his hysterical guffaws made it clear that Lou was only trying to get further under Ryō's skin.

  What a fake fucking laugh…

  The boy nearly chipped a tooth when his arch-nemesis pretended to rub an imaginary tear from his eye.

  Who the fuck pretends to wipe a non-existent tear from their eye? Even if those were real laughs, you weren't laughing that hard.

  “You’re always so serious," Lou prodded Ryō, "It was just a joke, man. Calm down. Considering it's your last week you might as well enjoy yourself for once––"

  SPLAT! Ryō hurled a wad of mashed pancake and whipped cream straight into the smug fucker's face before he could finish his sentence.

  The rope snapped, and the joking was over. Lou wiped his tearless eyes clear of pancake mash to reveal daggers.

  "I’m going to fucking kill you, you useless piece of shit!” He shouted, charging at his assailant.

  Oh shit. Adrenaline surged through Ryō. It took Lou stampeding toward him for the boy to realize the gravity of what he'd just done. Caught in a split moment, would this finally be Ryō's moment to stand up for himself and fight? Would this finally be the day everything changed?

  Nope.

  Without a second thought, Ryō's unconscious flight mechanism was activated. The boy found himself running in the opposite direction his pursuer, who was more than up for the hunt.

  “Get back here you bitch!” Lou barked, chasing Ryō around the perimeter of the grand hall like a pitbull pursuing a squirrel.

  “No!” The boy shouted back.

  Seriously? Ryō chastised himself mid-sprint, 'No!'? The best comeback I could think of was, 'No!'?

  Given Lou's superior athleticism, the guy was already starting to close the distance between himself and his prey.

  “I said, get back here you bitch!”

  "No!" Ryō's involuntary nerd reflex triggered once more, responding for him.

  God dammit––again?! Say something besides, no!

  "Go away!" The boy screamed.

  Jesus Christ. That was somehow worse than––

  Clack-Clack-Clack-Clack. Lou's galloping footsteps suddenly increased in velocity, snapping Ryō out of self-depreciation. The boy checked over his shoulder to see that his pursuer was hot on his heels, barely a yard away now.

  Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck... Ryō sped forward.

  The boy sprinted at full tilt, but that mattered not, for Lou was a different animal than he.

  Clack-Clack-Clack-Clack. Ryō could feel Lou behind him, breathing down his neck like a cheetah honing in on a gazelle.

  God dammit, why is he so fast?!

  Lou was within reaching distance now. Despite the boy's valiant efforts, this was one great escape he'd not be making.

  "I'm gonna kill you!" Lou yelled, crouching down and priming himself in preparation to tackle Ryō.

  Right as the hungry cheetah lunged forward, destined to make the kill, a familiar voice sliced through the nape of the room, freezing everyone where they stood––

  “Boys!” Eve’s voice seemed to have the power to freeze time.

  “Today is a day of celebration," the woman said as she waltzed up to Lou and petrified him with a simple touch to the shoulder, "Why ruin that with petty fighting?”

  Even if it wasn’t technically a superpower, the fear everyone harbored toward Eve was certainly potent. Even Lou, despite all his egoic glory, was rendered a subservient vessel of himself in her presence.

  “Y-yes, ma’am,” Lou stood erect and saluted her, paying no more mind to Ryō, "Sorry, ma'am."

  "Order arms, my child." Eve gestured for the guy to lower his salute, "Now, why don't you return to your seat and enjoy the beautiful feast that your caring instructors have so lovingly prepared for all of you––you wouldn't want to insult them by letting their hard work go to waste, would you?"

  "N-no, ma'am!"

  "Good," Eve smiled and removed her hand from Lou's shoulder, "Now go."

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  Like the good dog he was, Lou obliged, scampering back to his colleagues with his tail between his legs. Ryō went to return to his own table, but on his way caught a subtle glimpse of Eve––a rare in-between moment where her facial muscles softened, her entire put-on persona fading for a mere instant. When their eyes met, a harrowing chill ran down his spine.

  Ryō couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something deeply unsettling about the look on Eve's face. She was unconsciously on the precipice of a sharp smile; an expression the boy could only equate to the face someone makes when they see and smell a long-awaited meal. It was as if Eve knew what he tasted like––and she liked it. And not in a cute way.

  Before Ryō could further dwell on this eerie exchange, Eve snapped out of the trance, fixing the kink in her smile and reverting her facial expression to its default setting. She gave the boy a wink, then turned to face the rest of the banquet hall audience and strutted toward the stage like nothing had happened.

  W-what the hell was that face all about? Ryō gulped, shaking from latent adrenaline.

  The boy watched as Eve gracefully greeted and acknowledged every student and staff member she passed on her promenade, "Hello, hi beautiful––you look radiant this morning..."

  After noticing that some of his classmates were still casting ogled gazes in his direction, Ryō decided it was best to retake his seat. The boy hurried to a peripheral table where he made no haste in burying his head into his forearms. He needed a cave to hide the stinging red pain of his returning embarrassment.

  God dammit...

  Once everyone was quiet and in position, Eve climbed the stage stairs and stationed herself at the microphone-equipped pedestal.

  “Good morning, my friends!" She announced, "I hope we’re all enjoying our delicious breakfasts. As a reminder, students, you are to meet Professor Boris outside the main elevators at ten hundred sharp. Tonight is the night you have waited your whole lives for––the official Vassalhood send-off."

  CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. Cheers erupted from the crowd, forcing the woman to talk over a wave of clapping hands.

  "Good luck to all of you, and thank you for your unwavering commitment to the CGP cause. Now, please enjoy this lovely feast!"

  CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. Eve bowed, sunbathing in the ensuing applause.

  Once she had her fill of Vitamin Validation, the woman raised a single hand to siphon the room into silence.

  Eve surveyed the raring faces beneath her before concluding her speech, “May I also inform you that we managed to book a very special guest to hand out your field equipment before you fly out––this very special person is none other than the one and only Loyalist, Jeff!”

  CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. Roaring cheers swept the room like a tidal wave.

  A different hurricane swept through Ryō––oh shit!

  The boy's head shot out from his forearms, eyes wide.

  What time is it?!

  The terror of a forgotten responsibility seized Ryō.

  Please don't tell me I'm late...

  He spastically checked his watch, desperate for some good news. My meeting with Jeff is in...

  Two minutes. FUCK!

  Urgency catapulted Ryō out of his seat. Worried he might have attracted more unwanted attention with this abrupt maneuver, the boy anxiously scanned the room for reconnaissance. For once, fortune was on his side––all eyes were on the woman with the microphone.

  Thank God.

  CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. Ryō used Eve and her applause as a cloaking device, speeding out of the banquet hall on his tip-toes.

  Everyone was oblivious to the fleeing boy. Well, almost everyone. Luckily for Ryō, the only pair of eyes to watch him sneak out the back door happened to be colored a mismatched green and blue.