"Clyde—there you are!" Erika hurried over. "I thought you were going to run off on me again!"
"Hello, Erika. I see you're alone. Haven't recruited anyone yet?"
"And I see you have," she said, leaning to look past his shoulder at me. "And someone who's already caused quite a stir. Hello, Alan."
"Good afternoon, Miss Moneki," I said with a slight bow.
"I still can't quite believe it," she sighed, waving it off. "Whatever. Clyde, come on—my father wants to see you."
"I'll come by later."
"No. I know you—you'll find some excuse again." She grabbed his arm. "We're going now. There's only a year left before graduation, and we still haven't even set a wedding date!"
"And you decided this is the right moment for that?"
"I decided that any moment I actually manage to catch you is the right one," she pouted. "Come on."
Clyde followed, clearly unwilling.
They stopped at a table where several middle-aged men were seated, each with a personal bodyguard standing behind them. That didn't surprise me anymore. No one here actually needed protection. Just like Andrew said—we were props. Expensive ones. Something to show off and compare, like spoiled kids trading toys.
"Clyde!" One of the men stood, spreading his arms before pulling him into a brief embrace. Erika's father.
"Good to see you, Mr. Moneki," Clyde said. Then he turned his head slightly toward another man and added, with a curt nod, "Father."
I shifted slightly to get a better look.
They didn't resemble each other at all.
Clyde—tall, pale, blond, blue-eyed.
His father—shorter, heavyset, darker-skinned, with sharp, hard eyes.
"Sit," Mr. Moneki said, gesturing to an empty chair.
Clyde sat, reluctantly. Erika dropped into the seat beside him.
"Dear, why don't you go talk to your friends for now?" her father suggested.
"No," she said flatly. "I want this settled today. I'm not leaving until it is."
As she pushed—and her father slowly started giving in under her stubborn pressure—I felt the urge to leave.
Clyde's father hadn't taken his eyes off me once.
I met his gaze.
"The same insolent little mutt as always," he said, voice thick with disgust. "You've sunk all the way to the bottom—so start acting like the servant you are. And you—" he turned to Clyde, "what the hell were you thinking, dragging him in here?"
"You mean my candidate?" Clyde replied evenly. "If you've forgotten—that's how this works."
"How could you make a decision this stupid?" His father's voice sharpened. "Before the matches even start, I'm ready to buy him out and dump him back where he belongs. How much was wasted on his training?"
"I'm not giving up my candidate."
"You will." His tone hardened instantly. "That's enough. You've played at rebellion long enough. Do you have any idea how furious Holivan is? Do you understand the kind of influence he has? I'm not about to lose everything because of your childish tantrums. Wasn't it enough that you dragged our name through the mud with those rumors about you and him? Now you bring this boy here to finish the job?"
"I'm not discussing this with you," Clyde said coldly. "I decide who stands with me."
"You're supposed to protect this family's reputation—not grind it into the dirt!"
"Alan Holivan? Well, I'll be damned—it really is him," one of the men cut in. "Didn't recognize you at first. You really are a Holivan, boy?"
"Yes, sir. Alan Holivan."
"And how exactly are you planning to survive against real specials?" another man chuckled. "Better walk away while you still can. Your father will pay for everything, send you abroad. I spoke to him recently—that's the plan. Treatment, recovery… then something more appropriate for an aristocrat's son."
"Forgive me, sir," I said evenly, "but I've already made an agreement with Mr. Silius. I have no intention of backing out. I came here to prove what I'm capable of—and to prove he chose me for a reason."
They laughed.
Every last one of them.
Not a single person there took me seriously.
"And you actually believe this soft, pampered boy is going to improve your standing?" Clyde's father scoffed. "Now—about the wedding." He turned to Erika. "Your father and I discussed it recently. Yes, we intended to unite our families. It would've been beneficial for both sides. But Clyde's little stunt complicates things."
"We're not saying the arrangement is off entirely," Erika's father added, "but if Clyde drags his name through the dirt this week…"
"You're questioning our marriage because of his choice?" Erika asked, stunned.
"It's already been damaged," Mr. Silius said flatly. "The only thing holding it together is the reputation built before him. If his candidate crashes this week, we can say goodbye to everything. And then there will be no reason for this marriage."
"No! Clyde, no!" Erika's voice shook. "Please—just do what your father says! Drop him now, and we can still get married."
Clyde didn't even look at her.
His eyes stayed on his father.
"Let's make a deal."
"You think you're in a position to bargain with me?"
"If Alan performs worse than everyone else—and survives—I'll sign away my inheritance and my title. My failure won't touch you. But if he isn't the worst, you leave me alone. Completely. You don't interfere in my decisions again."
"Then you won't be able to buy out your candidate."
"That's my problem."
"If you want a deal, it'll be on my terms." His father's gaze shifted to me. "You want freedom? Then let your candidate prove himself among the best. If he earns the right to be called a personal bodyguard, even Holivan won't be able to touch him. But if he fails…"
He gave a slight nod in my direction.
"I'll buy him from the academy. And sell him to Marcus—if Marcus even wants him. And if not…" His lips curled faintly. "With a face like that, I won't have any trouble finding a buyer."
"No," Clyde said sharply. "Everything except that."
"So you're not as confident as you pretend?" his father smirked. "Of course, if he dies this week, the deal's off. That way, everyone wins."
"I said no. That condition isn't up for discussion."
The air turned cold again.
I knew I was supposed to stay silent.
I didn't.
"I agree to prove my strength—or die trying," I said, clear and steady.
"Insolent little brat," his father snapped. "You should've taught him his place first, Clyde."
"Do you understand what's waiting for you if you fail?" Clyde asked, ignoring him.
"I understand perfectly," I said. "Didn't you bring me here to show everyone what your candidate can do? Then let's win freedom—for both of us."
He went quiet, studying me.
Then he turned back to his father.
"You heard him. I accept the deal. Everyone here is a witness?"
The men nodded.
Clyde stood and turned away without another word.
"You'd better die in your first match, Holivan," Erika hissed under her breath—quiet enough that only I could hear.
"Don't hold your breath," Clyde said.
He shouldn't have heard her.
And yet—somehow—he answered anyway.