Chapter 240: 240 | Don’t Make My Mistakes
My mouth went dry. "Are you threatening me?"
"I’m warning you. There’s a difference." Vale adjusted his sunglasses. "Your rapid improvement is impressive but suspicious. Your physical transformation is remarkable but unexplained. Your ability to coordinate a previously dysfunctional squad is noteworthy but unprecedented."
Each point felt like another nail in my coffin. He’d noticed everything. Probably had files documenting my progress, my stats, my relationships.
"So what do you want?"
"I want you to succeed. Really succeed. Not just survive until graduation, but become something greater than a lottery winner who got lucky." Vale’s tone shifted again, becoming almost fatherly. "But that requires making smarter choices than breaking into federal facilities for pocket change."
"We needed the money."
"Money’s always needed. The question is whether you’re willing to destroy everything you’ve built for temporary relief." Vale started walking again, slower this time. "Your squad is ranked first in Obsidian. Do you know what that means?"
"We beat Blair."
"It means guild recruiters are watching your next three gate runs. It means scholarship opportunities. It means legitimate pathways to wealth that don’t require federal crimes." Vale paused. "It also means Blair’s father is looking for ways to discredit you."
The pieces clicked together in my head. Johnathan Davenport. One of the most powerful men in the hunter economy. Blair’s abusive perfectionist father who demanded nothing less than first place.
"He’s going to try to destroy us."
"He’s going to try to prove you’re cheating. Enhanced performance drugs, illegal ability modifications, bribery, whatever he can think of." Vale’s voice hardened. "And if tonight had gone differently, if you’d been caught with an actual stolen crystal, he would have had everything he needed."
I felt sick. Not just from the near miss, but from how close we’d come to handing our enemies exactly what they wanted.
"The dummy crystal."
"Was bait. For whoever was stupid enough to think they could steal from a government facility without consequences." Vale’s smile returned. "Lucky for you, I like your squad better than I like bureaucratic procedures."
We’d reached the residential buildings. Zone Two stretched ahead, all darkened windows and quiet walkways. Normal students were asleep by now, dreaming of normal problems like exams and relationships.
"Why are you helping me?"
Vale was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that I thought he might not answer.
"Because I see something in you that reminds me of myself at your age. Desperate. Talented. Making catastrophically stupid decisions because you’re too proud to ask for help."
"And how did that work out for you?"
"I almost died. Multiple times. Lost people I cared about because I thought I could handle everything alone." Vale stopped in front of Building C. "Don’t make my mistakes, Monroe."
The weight of his words settled over me like a blanket. Heavy and warm and completely unexpected.
"What happens now?"
"Now you go upstairs and tell your squad they’re idiots who got lucky. Tomorrow you focus on legitimate gate runs and stop planning federal crimes." Vale turned to leave, then paused. "And Monroe?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time you need money, ask. I’ve got connections that pay better than theft and don’t come with federal investigators asking uncomfortable questions."
He melted into the darkness. Hands stuffed in pockets. Looking like someone who’d just resolved a minor paperwork error instead of preventing five first-years from destroying their entire futures.
I stayed rooted to the spot for several minutes. Replaying the last hour in my head like a bad movie. We’d planned a federal heist. Executed it with surgical precision. Got caught red-handed with stolen government property. And somehow walked away with career advice instead of expulsion notices.
Vale was either the greatest teacher who ever lived or completely unhinged.
Maybe both. Probably both.
The stairs to Belle’s room felt different now. Lighter. Like someone had removed a fifty-pound weight from my chest and replaced it with helium. The crisis had imploded before it could detonate. Nobody was expelled. Nobody was facing charges. The System could shove its quest notification straight up its algorithmic ass because the whole thing had been theater from the beginning.
I knocked softly on Belle’s door. "It’s me."
The door flew open immediately. Belle grabbed my shirt and yanked me inside before I could blink.
"What happened? Are you expelled? Are we all expelled? Did you get arrested? Is Misato dead?"
"Everyone relax." I held up my hands. "We’re fine. The crystal was fake. Vale knew about the whole thing. Nobody’s getting expelled."
The room erupted in questions and exclamations. Jordan fell backward off Belle’s bed. Naomi grabbed my arm like she was checking to make sure I was real.
Belle just stared at me. "Fake?"
"Dummy crystal. Used for demonstrations. Vale said it got mixed up with the real inventory." I sat down heavily on Belle’s desk chair. "The whole thing was basically a very expensive lesson in why federal crimes are stupid."
"So we’re not rich," Jordan said from the floor.
"We’re not rich."
"But we’re also not expelled."
"Also not expelled."
Belle started laughing—high-pitched and slightly hysterical laughter that said she was processing the stress of the evening in the only way her brain would allow.
"I can’t believe we almost threw away everything for a fake crystal," Naomi said quietly.
"I can’t believe Vale let us try," I replied. "Guy’s either brilliant or completely unhinged."
"Both," Belle said between fits of laughter. "Definitely both."
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
Squad meeting tomorrow at 0800. East field. Don’t be late. - Vale
"Looks like our education is just getting started."
I showed them the text. Jordan groaned and covered his face with a pillow. Belle stopped laughing long enough to read it twice and then groaned even louder than Jordan.
Naomi squeezed my hand. "At least we’re still a team."
"Yeah." I squeezed back. "Still a team."
Even if that team was apparently being adopted by the most dangerous teacher on campus who thought federal crime simulators were effective teaching tools. What could possibly go wrong?
