By the time the sun climbed to the absolute zenith of the late afternoon sky, peace had been brokered in Villa 13.
I, personally, was distraught that we wouldn’t get to witness a catfight.
Damn Michael for calming down Alexia.
...What? Don’t judge me. It’s always hot to see two women fight.
If you disagree, you’ve just never seen two gorgeous Awakened ladies throw down. The ripping of clothes aside, shockwaves alone do wonders for the aesthetics.
But no! Stupid Michael just had to be the responsible person. He gave Alexia a plush pillow from the sofa and fixed her another cup of hot chocolate.
By then, Juliana also decided she had ribbed Alexia enough. So right now, she was braiding the blind girl’s hair after massaging her head.
Alexia’s expression was purely blissful as she leaned her head back into Juliana’s lap, letting out soft, relaxed purrs while my Shadow’s slender fingers wove her orange locks into a delicate crown braid.
"Lower," Alexia sighed, voice drifting like a sleepy child’s. "A little to the left... yeah, right over the pressure point. You have hands like an angel."
Juliana continued her ministrations with a scoff. For the most part, her eyes were fixed on the large living room TV. She was watching some show I did not recognise.
I observed this bizarre display of domestic diplomacy from across the room. "You know, Alexia, you and Kang could’ve just gone to the Cadet Council. They wouldn’t have provided you with a place this grand—" I mutter, gesturing around with a hand, "—but they would’ve at least given you a decent apartment. And money."
Jarred from her blissful state by my voice, Alexia peeled open her sightless gray eyes and looked in my general direction.
"Sure, but then they would’ve also dragged me into interviews and press conferences. And I don’t think I want to relive much of what I experienced in the Wilds just yet," she grumbled, her nose wrinkling disapprovingly.
An understanding silence settled over the conversation pit. Michael and Kang, who were on the other end of the sunken pit, also fell quiet with drawn faces.
I could understand her.
There were some fun moments in the Noctveil Wilds, I won’t deny them. The adventure and the bonding. But by the end, as our journey neared its last stretch, everything after the Mist Monster— Vaeghar and the God Who Eats Is, the entire voyage of the Lake of Grief and the indescribable horrors we encountered...
Even before all that, the Tree King and how its minions fertilized living humans— our peers, our fellow Cadets... gods. Unlike the rest of us, Alexia and Juliana had to witness that dreadful scene live, waiting for their chance at a fate worse than death.
There was a lot of trauma to unpack there. A lot of therapy appointments to make. I didn’t doubt the Academy would let the issue of our mental health slide.
We had experienced far too much psychological strain for our age. They’d definitely want to see if we were fit to carry out missions, to even advance our education.
The graduates of Apex were expected to take positions of power in governance and the military, given offers by elite guilds and corporations.
The world couldn’t afford to have a bunch of ticking time bombs with severe post-traumatic stress disorder in its ranks.
"Besides," Alexia added, her voice dropping back into a softer register as she snuggled a bit deeper into Juliana’s lap. "With the state of the Academy, they definitely would’ve used my retelling as a PR stunt," she waved a vehement hand. "Just no to that. All of that. I don’t want to be their poster girl for tragic heroism more than I already am."
"Someone doesn’t like the media," Michael said with a rueful smile.
"No noble likes the media," Alexia rolled her eyes. "But don’t you feel angry? You too, Sam. They’ve made a show out of us. And the other Cadets? The ones we saved? I at least expected them to realize that our deeds are being used as propaganda. But their zealous alacrity is just fueling the fire!"
I offered her a shrug, then resisted the urge to slap myself on the forehead when recalled she can’t see it. I always forget that.
"I understand your point. I do," I said. "You are right. No noble likes the media. We were raised in the spotlight. There’s no privacy in our lives. From our worst mistake to our first heartbreak, every little personal event is a headline for the bored public. The peasants who enjoy their newfound fame after entering the Academy and making it big here realize the discomfort of the lens soon enough. But you can’t blame the other Cadets for celebrating us. People need their heroes, Alexia."
Another brief silence, this one hushed.
She looked like she was contemplating my words, turning them over in her head. Then, in a tone, soft and brittle, "I can’t see them, can’t see their faces. But I can hear how they talk about that night. Heroes, they call us. And I can’t help but think, am I really that? Did I even... do something? Because when I look back, I think I was just busy trying to survive myself rather than being this larger-than-life figure they’re painting me to be."
Again, I could relate. Maybe far more than she knew.
Those last few days, my mind often wandered to the futility of my efforts in changing the course of the story.
Despite my interference, the world was still heading toward a global conflict that now seemed all but inevitable. So whatever I did in Ishtara to stop the world war, did it even mean anything?
All those deaths. Did they have any meaning in the end? Did I even do something?
But unlike Alexia, I didn’t have the luxury of doubting myself. Nor did I want to shy away from the spotlight.
It’s all the better if the public was making a spectacle of me, honestly. I wanted them to call me their savior, their hero.
The goals I had reserved for humanity, the fate I wanted to achieve for this world, could not be accomplished from lurking in the shadows.
You don’t save a burning world as an anonymous martyr. You do it by standing so high above the flames that everyone has no choice but to look up at you and follow your lead.
Political leverage, public adoration, and institutional immunity were resources for me. Resources that I was going to spend well.
As a matter of fact, this heroic reputation of mine would come in especially handy when it’d be time to flush out the Syndicate’s mysterious handler.
"Regardless," seeing me distracted in my own thoughts, Michael chimed in. "Now that you have this standing of a hero, you can’t refuse to accept it. It’s one thing not wanting to deal with the weight of expectations, but your cachet isn’t exactly unearned. Without your help, hundreds more would’ve died. And as much as I’d like to be modest, I know my part wasn’t insignificant either. Samael’s, too. Sure, yes, we didn’t ask for the spotlight, Alexia, but we have the right to stand in it. Even if we were just trying to survive."
Alexia grumbled at that, then let out a deflating sound that ruffled the orange bangs dangling over her forehead.
It seemed like she wanted to argue, but had no argument.
So she instead let her eyes close again and completely surrendered to the soothing motion of Juliana’s fingers working through her locks.
"I suppose," she mumbled, her voice thick with oncoming sleep. "But it feels wrong being called heroes of a slaughter that left so, so many dead."
Michael also looked resigned at that notion. "I know. Let’s just attend that ceremony next week, take those medals, and forget it all."
...Huh?
The silence this time was more confused than hushed.
I was about to reach for a stray grape on the fruit basket. But now my hand was stupidly frozen mid-air.
Across the pit, Juliana’s slender fingers ceased their braiding as well, remaining perfectly still against Alexia’s skull.
Even Kang’s lupine eyes blinked in bewilderment from where he was lazily sprawled on the sofa.
We all just stared at Michael, dumbfounded.
"What?" Michael asked, looking back and forth between me and Juliana, expression entirely too innocent. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
"What ceremony next week?" Kang asked, voicing in all our stead.
"The... the Commemoration Ceremony?" Michael floundered, stiffening under the weight of our stares. "After the ongoing tourney is over and the new Ace is decided following the finals next week, they’ll hold a ceremony to separately honor me, Sam, and Alex first. Then they will commemorate all of us for surviving a Death Zone."
Oh.
Oh...
"I got a ping on my student terminal," Michael told us, weirdly taken aback that we didn’t know this. "Even got a personal message. Were you guys not informed? It’s kinda going to be a big thing. One of the Central Dukes is coming here personally, I think."
Kang shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his palm. "I don’t have my phone, remember?"
"Same," Alexia sighed a sigh that was somewhere between a grunt and a sob.
Michael looked at me.
I palmed my face. "I have the Academy blocked from everywhere. Everywhere."
They issued too many unnecessary pings.
Michael, remembering I did this but still not knowing what to say to that, finally, hopefully turned to Juliana.
To his dismay, she wasn’t much help either. "I... have them blocked too, actually."