chapter 21 beauty
Fighter leaned back against the cold stone wall, deciding it was time to shift the conversation away from the heavy atmosphere of their shared trauma.
"I wonder," Fighter mused, eyes scanning the ceiling, "what kind of exam they're going to throw at us. Any theories, Kaizer?"
Kaizer shook his head, his golden eyes reflecting the flicker of the mana-lamp. "I don't know. But curiosity isn't going to help us if it's a death trap."
Inside Fighter's head, a familiar, sharp voice rang out.
Rechel: [I think you should stop acting like you know everything. Your knowledge is fragmented and full of holes, you idiot. Ok.]
"Huh? What?" Fighter blurted out, startled by the sudden insult.
Kaizer blinked, looking at him sideways. "What do you mean 'what'? Aren't you the one who just asked the question?"
Fighter coughed, realizing he'd spoken to his internal stowaway out loud. "No, no—I'm not talking to you. Well, I am talking to you, but—never mind. I'm just curious. Specifically about the examiner."
"The examiner?" Kaizer's thick eyebrows shot up. "Why are you worried about the person instead of the test? This is the UCA, the heart of human education. The exam is going to be brutal."
Fighter leaned in, a mischievous, knowing smile playing on his lips. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Ah, my sweet summer child," Fighter said, patting Kaizer's shoulder. "Think about the setting. This is the UCA. It's crawling with Story Bearers whose beauty is literally out of this world. Fairy-like, even."
Kaizer looked utterly lost, a literal question mark practically manifesting over his messy blonde hair. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"
"So," Fighter's grin widened, "there is a more than fifty percent chance that a total beauty with a big... personality will be the one testing us."
Kaizer stared at him in dead silence.
"Think about it!" Fighter continued, waving a hand dramatically. "In the slums, how many truly beautiful women did you see? It was all skeletons and misery. Even an eighteen-year-old girl looked eighty because of the hunger and the rot. But here? Story Bearers are refined by their Scripts. Their beauty is on a whole different level."
Fighter might have seen "beauties" in his original world through a screen, but he knew that in this reality, the power of a Story physically perfected the host.
Kaizer looked at Fighter as if he were a new, particularly confusing species of insect. "I don't think any lady is going to like you in your current state. And why are you obsessing over women? I'm worried that if the school wants us dead for our crimes, we won't be able to do a thing about it."
Fighter's eyes glinted. "Crimes? What did you do, exactly?"
"I... I got into a fight with a Blood Young Master right after I Bore my Story," Kaizer admitted, his voice dropping an octave.
Fighter already knew this, of course. His plan to befriend the protagonist was moving perfectly. In the novel, Kaizer was a man driven by a pathological need to protect the weak. If a pathetic, malnourished person like Fighter stayed near him, Kaizer would instinctively treat him like a younger brother to be shielded until the weakling could stand on his own.
I'll show him my worth soon enough, Fighter thought. But for now, making him feel responsible for me is the best survival strategy.
Rechel: [You aren't 'acting' weak. You are actually pathetic. How can you 'pretend' to be something you already are? Ok.]
Fighter ignored her and looked at Kaizer with mock horror. "RIP. Nice knowing you, buddy. If you touched a Blood Young Master, this is definitely your last day on Earth. Hehehe."
"You're making me more worried!" Kaizer snapped, his fists clenching as sparks of gold static danced across his knuckles.
"Hey, I'm not the one who attacked a noble!" Fighter laughed.
"Damn it..." Kaizer muttered, burying his face in his hands.
Suddenly, the heavy metal door creaked open.
The air in the room shifted instantly, growing pressurized and cold. A woman stepped into the dim light. She had rich, tan skin that seemed to glow, a lean, athletic build, and a sharp, triangular face. Her hair was a waterfall of midnight black, and her brown eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.
She was undeniably beautiful, but the power rolling off her was suffocating.
"I am your examiner," she said.
Her voice was cold, like ice cracking on a winter lake, but beneath the surface, there was a faint, terrifying hint of excitement.