Chapter 262: 262: A Knock That Means Trouble
---
A few hours later, the academy had settled into its late-day rhythm.
The sun was lower now, turning the courtyard stone into warm gold and long shadows. The noise of classes had thinned into the softer noise of students moving between halls, arguing about homework, trading rumors like candy, and pretending they were not already exhausted.
Inside Room B-17, John sat at his desk with Fizz hovering above a notebook like a strict teacher who did not believe in mercy. Ray Flame was not there. His bed was empty again, blanket tossed aside. Ray had the talent of always being absent when he should be present, and always present when nobody wanted him.
John’s pen moved steadily. Not study notes this time.
Numbers.
Sales.
Simple lists.
"Gael said sixty customers in a day," John said quietly. "That is not normal for a new shop."
Fizz nodded like a businessman even though he looked like a glowing orange dessert. "It is because we are amazing."
John did not smile. "It means eyes."
Fizz waved a paw. "Eyes are fine. We have eyes too. I have two. Sometimes three when I am judging people."
John tapped the page. "Tools and blades are safe. Guns are not. If too many people suspect rare mana tools, we will have problems."
Fizz leaned closer to the paper as if he could read coin totals with his nose. "So we sell normal things loudly and dangerous things quietly."
John nodded. "Yes."
Fizz puffed his chest. "That is basically how I live."
John flipped the page. "Edda said rich buyers are asking questions."
Fizz’s glow dimmed slightly. "That means nobles. Nobles with money and boredom. The worst combination."
John’s pen paused. "And Fartray."
Fizz hissed. "He is a wart. A rich wart. A revenge wart."
John said nothing. The moment Fartray’s name entered a room, John’s mind automatically began building traps.
Not because he liked violence.
Because he remembered what it felt like to be powerless.
He did not intend to be powerless again.
Fizz drifted lower, voice quieter. "We should prepare Gael. We should tell him to watch for spies."
John shook his head. "Not yet. If we tell too much, the shop staff might panic. Panic makes mistakes."
Fizz made a dissatisfied sound. "Fine. Then we prepare quietly."
John wrote one more line in his notebook: Keep shop normal. Keep guns hidden. Watch for watchers.
Fizz pointed at the note. "Add: buy snacks."
John ignored him.
The room felt calm for a moment.
That calm broke with a knock at the door.
Not the careless knock of a student.
Not the timid knock of a first-year afraid of trouble.
A confident knock. Two taps, a pause, one tap. Like a person who had already decided they would be heard.
John’s shoulders went still.
Fizz’s glow dimmed instantly, as if his body understood danger without needing explanation.
John stood and moved to the door without making noise. He did not open it right away. He listened.
Silence.
Then, from the other side, a voice.
Soft. Female. Controlled.
"John."
John’s pulse kicked once.
Fizz floated close to his ear and whispered, "That is ribbon girl."
John kept his face neutral, opened the latch, and cracked the door just enough to see.
Rhea Flame stood in the hallway.
She wore a long coat today, dark and neat, the kind of coat that hid the body and made people look safer than they were. The red ribbon on her head was tied cleanly, bright against her hair like a small flag.
Her eyes met John’s immediately.
She did not glance around first. She did not hesitate.
She spoke quietly. "May I come in."
John’s throat tightened. "This is a dorm."
Rhea’s mouth curved slightly. "Yes."
Fizz whispered, loud enough to be rude, "She is brave."
John ignored him and opened the door wider.
Rhea stepped inside and closed the door behind her with careful hands, the way a person closes a door when they do not want the hallway to hear.
John kept his posture calm. "Why are you here?"
Rhea looked at him for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then she answered simply. "Because I wanted to see you."
Fizz made a pleased noise, then immediately ruined it. "Romance in the dorm is illegal. Just saying."
Rhea’s gaze slid to Fizz. "I know."
Fizz stiffened as if someone had complimented him. "You know."
Rhea nodded once. "That is why I came prepared."
John frowned. "Prepared for what."
Rhea’s eyes flicked to Ray’s empty bed. "First, we remove your roommate."
John blinked. "Ray is not—"
The door opened before John finished the sentence.
Ray Flame walked in.
He looked irritated already, like the corridor air had insulted him. He held a small pouch in one hand and a book in the other. He stopped the moment he saw Rhea.
His face froze.
Then his jaw tightened. "Cousin."
Rhea turned her head toward him, calm as ever. "Ray."
Ray looked between her and John and then finally noticed Fizz hovering like a suspicious lantern. "Why is she in our room?"
Fizz answered before anyone else could. "Because she is hungry for your roommate."
Ray choked. "What."
John shot Fizz a look sharp enough to cut steel. "Fizz."
Fizz lifted both paws. "I am only speaking the truth."
Ray’s face reddened. "Cousin, explain."
Rhea stepped closer to Ray, still calm, still controlled. "Go out."
Ray stared. "No."
Rhea did not raise her voice. She did not threaten. She simply spoke like an older family member used to being obeyed. "Yes."
Ray’s jaw tightened. "This is my room."
Rhea nodded. "Not for the next hour."
Ray’s eyes flashed. "You can’t—"
Rhea cut him off gently, like a knife that did not need force. "You were out after curfew last week. The warden knows. I know. If I tell her you were wandering the east stairs at night again, you will be cleaning disposal rooms until your flame turns to ash."
Ray’s mouth opened, then shut.
Comments