Chapter 169| Anonymous Guest

Chapter 169: Chapter 169| Anonymous Guest

Zane carried the suit to Mori’s office folded over one arm, like something that might go off.

It was 7:50 AM, early enough that the corridors on the second floor were still empty. Her door sat at the end of a narrow hall that smelled of machine oil and warm fabric. A brass plate said EQUIPMENT in letters that had worn smooth. He knocked twice.

"It’s open, Calloway."

He pushed through and stopped. She was already behind the desk in her white lab coat with a mug of something steaming at her elbow, and she hadn’t looked up from the tablet in her hands. Behind her, racks of suits hung like a row of quiet people, every one tagged and numbered.

"How did you know it was me?" Zane asked, setting the bundle on the desk.

"You knock like you’re apologising." Mori finally lifted her eyes, amusement tugging at one corner of her mouth. She unrolled the suit across the desk with two practiced flicks. "Let’s see what you did to my work."

She went over it slowly. Her thumb traced the scorched line along the left sleeve, then pressed into the cracked palm panel until a thin hiss of air escaped. She turned the cuff inside out and squinted at the seams.

"Hm," she said.

"Is it bad?" Zane asked, shifting his weight.

"It’s what I expected." She set the sleeve down and leaned back, folding her arms under her chest. "Clean fracture. No burn-through on the lining. Whoever sent this output into the palm did it in one controlled push, and the suit held. Barely." Her eyes came up. "A student who’d barely improved wouldn’t have done that."

Zane kept his face still. "Maybe the suit’s older than it looks."

"Maybe." She let it go with a small shrug, like she was setting something on a shelf for later. "I’ll reinforce the weave and replace the panel. No charge, this once."

"Thank you, Instructor."

"Don’t thank me yet." She held up one finger. "Next time it comes out of your account. I meant what I said."

"I know," Zane said, nodding.

"Good," Mori said, picking up her mug.

He reached for the door. Her voice caught him before he’d touched the handle.

"Calloway."

"Yes, Instructor?"

She wasn’t looking at him now. She was looking at the suit, one hand resting flat on the dark green fabric, and her expression had gone quiet in a way he hadn’t seen before.

"Your father broke one of my suits, you know," Mori said. "My first year here. Same left sleeve. Same kind of fracture."

Zane’s hand froze on the handle.

"He walked in at eight sharp with it rolled under his arm, exactly the way you did," she went on. "Told me it was an accident. Looked me dead in the eye and said it." She smiled a little, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I knew it wasn’t. He’d done it on purpose, to see what the weave could take."

"Why?" Zane asked, turning slowly.

"I never found out," Mori said, her voice dipping. "He asked me not to put it in the report, so I didn’t." She looked at the suit. "Years later, when I heard what happened at Harbor, that sleeve was the first thing I thought of."

The room was very quiet. Somewhere in the racks, a loose tag ticked against a hanger.

"Why are you telling me this?" Zane asked.

"Because you walk like him." Mori finally raised her eyes. They were softer than he’d expected. "And because I’d rather you heard it from someone who liked him. Go to class, Calloway."

He left without another word.

_ _

Instructor Vael was waiting at the end of the corridor.

She stood with her back against the wall and her tablet pressed to her chest, the way she did when she wanted something to look accidental. She didn’t greet him. She just fell into step beside him as he walked, close enough that nobody passing would hear.

"The field division requested the full duel footage," Vael said, her voice flat and low. "All three angles. Formally, in writing, by Saturday noon."

"Did you send it?"Zane asked, his stride slowing.

"I had no choice." Her jaw tightened. "A refusal would have been logged. It would have brought them here instead."

"What do they know?"

"I don’t know. That’s the problem." She kept her eyes ahead. "They didn’t ask about you. They asked about the final exchange. The last ten seconds, before the match was called."

Zane’s stomach dropped. ’The sphere,’ he thought. ’The ripple.’

"I’m not going to ask you what happened," Vael said. "I told you I wouldn’t. But I’d like you to listen to me now." She stopped and turned to face him fully. "Don’t leave campus this week. Not for a day, not for an hour. If they want you, they’ll come to you. Better that happens here, where I’m in the room."

"Understood."

"Say it like you mean it."

"I won’t leave campus," Zane said, holding her eyes. "Not this week."

She studied him for a long second. Something in her face eased by a few degrees.

"Good," she said. "Go to your lecture."

_ _

At 1:15 PM, after the morning lectures, Sera found him at lunch.

He’d taken the corner table, the one they always ended up at, and he was working through a grilled chicken rice bowl without tasting it. She dropped onto the opposite chair in her grey hoodie, set down a tray, and plucked a fry off his plate before he’d looked up.

"You look like you got hit by a bus," Sera said, chewing.

"Long weekend."

"Mm. I heard." She tilted her head, olive eyes sharp behind her lashes. "I’ve got something for you."

"About what?" Zane asked, setting his fork down.

"A man from the duel." Sera kept her voice low and leaned in over her tray. "Third tier, east side. Grey jacket, no student badge. His heat signature was wrong the whole match."

"Wrong how?"

"Too steady." She turned her coffee cup slowly between her palms. "Everyone else flinched when Ryan dropped that sphere. Three hundred people, and every single one of them spiked. He didn’t. He sat there like he was watching paint dry."

Zane’s fork, which he’d picked up again, stopped halfway to his mouth. "He left right after."

"You noticed?" Sera’s eyebrows rose.

"Ryan told me." Zane lowered his voice to match hers. "In the infirmary. He said he left right after I turned the sphere."

"That fits." She nodded slowly. "I tracked him as far as the east stairwell. Then I lost him in the crowd." She paused, and her expression sharpened. "But I saw him again. Friday evening, near the admin block."

"Friday?"

"He wasn’t visiting anyone. He stood across from the east entrance for twenty minutes with a coffee and watched the door, then walked in like he worked there." Her mouth tightened. "Nobody stopped him. Nobody even looked."

Zane set the fork down.

"You don’t walk into the admin block like that unless somebody’s already cleared you," Sera said.

’Field division,’ he thought. ’Watching me before the duel. Maybe before that.’

"Thanks," Zane said, meeting her eyes.

"Don’t." Sera shrugged and went back to her fries, but her shoulders had relaxed a little. "I told you before. It’s what friends do."

He nodded and didn’t say anything. She looked at him a moment longer than she needed to, then finished her coffee in silence.

_ _

At 6:12 PM his communicator buzzed on the desk in Room 714.

Dex was out, probably asleep in someone else’s lounge. Gerald wheezed from the vent. The suit sat at Mori’s now, and Zane was in his plain training gear, lying on his bed with one arm behind his head and a very long day behind him.

He picked it up.

An unknown number. No name, no photo.

Mr. Calloway. We should talk.

He stared at it.

A second message arrived before he could decide whether to answer.

Not here. Not tonight. Soon.

He lay perfectly still, holding the phone over his face while the screen dimmed itself.

『 System Note: The sender is not registered in the academy directory. Origin could not be traced. 』

’Might be Mr Grey jacket,’ Zane thought.

『 The system cannot confirm. The probability is high. 』

He turned the phone over and set it on his chest.

Outside the window, the lamps along the path were just coming on.