The maintenance worker passed by again, this ti with a donut to go with his coffee. He gave a sympathetic look that suggested he’d seen students waiting outside locked buildings before and knew how this usually ended. Not encouraging.
I started composing a text ssage to Vale that began with several creative applications of profanity and ended with a detailed explanation of where he could store his elite training protocols. My finger hovered over the send button while I debated whether burning this bridge was worth the temporary satisfaction.
Probably not.
I deleted the ssage and started over with sothing more diplomatically phrased, which mostly involved asking if he was still planning to show up soti before I died of exposure.
Before I could send it, footsteps echoed across the quad again.
This ti they belonged to a familiar figure in an expensive jacket and designer sunglasses, silver hair catching the early morning light like so kind of ani protagonist. Vale approached at a leisurely pace that suggested he had absolutely no awareness of the ti or my rapidly deteriorating mood.
"Monroe." He nodded like showing up an hour late was perfectly normal behavior. "Ready to get started?"
I stared at him.
He stared back, waiting for sothing that wasn’t demanding to know what the hell took him so long.
"I’ve been here since 4:45," I said, working to keep the edge out of my voice even though what I really wanted to do was grab him by his expensive jacket and shake so awareness into him.
"Good. Punctuality matters." He pulled a key card from his pocket and swept it across the sensor. Green light flashed. The lock clicked open with a soft chanical sound. "Shows you’re serious about training. That’s what separates people who succeed from people who complain."
I felt sothing crack inside .
He was giving a lecture on punctuality.
After showing up an hour late.
With no apology. No acknowledgnt of the ti I’d spent freezing outside. Just casual indifference wrapped in designer sunglasses and silver hair.
I followed him through the door anyway because my other options involved violence or walking away, both of which would screw over more than they’d hurt him. The tir on my life didn’t care about my pride, and beating the shit out of my teacher wouldn’t extend my survival by a single second.
The gym’s interior looked exactly how I’d expected an Elite Ten facility to look. Equipnt that cost more than most people’s cars. Perfect climate control that made the outside temperature irrelevant. Enough open floor space to fit three basketball courts with room left over. Everything clean, organized, maintained by people who probably made more than my old salary.
Vale walked toward a section with specialized combat equipnt, still moving like he had all the ti in the world. No urgency. No acknowledgnt that he’d just wasted an hour of my life.
"Sorry about the delay," he said, finally admitting that ti existed as a concept. "Got lost on the way here. These campus paths all look the sa in the dark."
I stopped walking.
He got lost.
On a campus where he’d been teaching for years.
Walking to a building he visited regularly.
In broad daylight, because the sun had been up for twenty minutes when he finally arrived.
"Lost," I repeated, making sure I’d heard correctly.
"Took a wrong turn near the library. Ended up at the marina sohow." He shrugged like this was a perfectly reasonable explanation for keeping soone waiting in the cold for an hour. "You know how it is."
I didn’t know how it was. I’d never gotten lost going anywhere on this campus, and I’d been here less than a month. The paths were clearly marked, well-lit, and designed by people who understood basic navigation principles. A child could follow them.
But sure. Vale got lost.
The strongest hunter on faculty. The man with reflexes fast enough to catch bullets and perception sharp enough to notice fake crystals in governnt vaults. He’d sohow beco confused by walkways that freshn could navigate blindfolded.
"Are you serious right now?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Vale turned to look at , eyebrows visible above his sunglasses. For a second I wondered if I’d just committed academic suicide by questioning his obviously bullshit excuse. If he’d decide I was too much trouble and report back to whatever authority had sent those investigators my way.
Then he grinned.
"You’re pissed."
Not a question. A statent of fact.
"I’m wondering if this is another one of your tests," I said, which was diplomatic code for yes, I was absolutely pissed.
"Nope. Just got lost. Happens to everyone." He started pulling equipnt from storage lockers with practiced efficiency, like this conversation was already over. "Good thing you waited though. Shows commitnt."
Shows commitnt.
I’d been standing outside in the cold for an hour because I was committed to not getting murdered by Diamond-tier investigators, not because I enjoyed demonstrating my dedication to professors who couldn’t find their way around their own workplace. There was a difference. A significant one.
But pointing that out seed unwise.
Instead I helped him set up whatever training nightmare he had planned, because arguing with Vale felt like arguing with a natural disaster. Pointless and likely to end with getting buried under debris. Better to just endure it and move on.
The equipnt he’d selected looked expensive and vaguely threatening. Straps, weights, resistance bands with tension I could feel just looking at them. Which probably ant today’s session would involve pain, humiliation, or both. Maybe a combination package deal.
I was already regretting getting out of bed. Hell, I was regretting being born.
"So," Vale said, testing the tension on what appeared to be a combat harness designed by soone who hated joy. "Ready to see what elite training actually looks like?"
Given that elite training apparently started with the instructor getting lost for an hour, I had my doubts about the quality standards here. But I nodded anyway, because burning bridges with the academy’s strongest hunter over punctuality issues seed like the kind of mistake that would haunt for the rest of my probably brief life.
"Let’s do this," I said.
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