Emilia had expected the evening to end with gigglesâwith her running through the streets as the triplets chased her, intent to catch her and drag her back to their rooms so they could rip her dress off and fuck her full⊠unless of course Valor caught her. If Valor had caught her first, he would have run away with her, either to help her out of the dress gently before his brothers got to them or to have his way with her alone. Which way he would have gone, Emilia supposed she would never find out.
Having ordered a tasting menu, even Olivierâs slow-to-cook,
theoretically
slow-to-eat meal was finished before her own foursome got to dessert. The fact that his father had never returnedânever even let his family know where heâd gone, as far as Emilia could tell, Taelor eventually requesting another clone go make sure he hadnât had some sort of accident; he hadnâtâhad probably contributed to that, his wife growing impressively more unpleasant as the meal wore on. Emilia had a feeling Olivier would have been perfectly content to stare her way while slowly enjoying his meal had his mother not been there. As it was, he might actually have some intestinal issues now for how fast he had eaten, hoping to escape the woman sooner.
Moreâs the pityâEmilia was quite enjoying watching him and his brother act like children, sending messages to poke and prod Olivier as they bickered. At least when they left, sheâd finally been able to take the man in fully. The wide spread of his shoulders, the way the buttons of his shirt stretched just so when he moved, the hug of his pants over his ass and thighs, the almost lazy way he let his hands tuck into his pants pockets so at odds with his usually severe demeanour.
His mother had indeed tried to fold his cuffs back down before he had a chance to put his coat onâimpressive that her ranting had made her so unobservant that she hadnât noticed the cuffs during the meal, nor her childrenâs behaviour. She had failedâmiserablyâin her attempts to fold her eldest sonâs cuffs back down. Olivier had refused to answer her questions on
how
he had managed to force them into a folded position, her expression growing all the more dour when he told her, quite honestly, that he hadnât done it and had no idea how they had become so set in their ways.
If Emilia had sent him off a copy of the skill just as the de la Rues were leaving the building, well, that was why she was currently being guided gently through the streets by the triplets, rather than chased.
Almost as soon as the skill had been sentâalong with a teasing note about how she wouldnât tell him how it worked so he could continue telling his mother he had no idea
how
it happenedâOlivier had replied to her message, sending her transcripts of each of his classes from the last few years where they had discussed that dayâs subject; records of a class she had been excited for and then been too distracted to enjoy.
It was sweet, something she hadnât realized the man was capable of until that nightânot really, anyways. Yes, Olivier had a reputation for taking cases where the underdog was excepted to loseâthat was part of why Sorvell had recommended she attempt to woo him into taking her caseâbut part of her had come to assume it due to a desire to make a name for himself, winning cases that seemed destined to fail, rather than some sense of altruism.
It was annoying to realize she was wrongânot because she was wrong! Emilia was wrong a lot!âit was a consequence of having a wandering mind that jumped to conclusions and moved faster than the logic that attempted to follow its flow. If sheâd put more thought into it, she definitely would have realized that the teacher who covered sensitive topics with grace and called out students for their stupid, borderline purist opinion
had
to be a good guy; rather, it was that if Olivier really were a sweet man, trying to make the world a better place, then the reasons for not taking her caseâŠ
Well, either he really did hate her and thought she deserved to go to prisonâand while Sorvellâs father had definitely relayed to her that Olivier didnât want her in his classroom, him thinking she was dangerous or deserved jail time had never been on his list of reason why; mostly, he just found her annoying and disruptiveâor he truly thought her case a lost cause.
Emilia was trying not to think about that. No, she didnât think any of her friends would leave her to wither in whatever prisonâprobably her parentâs houseâshe found herself in when this was all over, but she didnât want any of them to suffer the consequences of a decision to disregard her sentence either.
Part of the reason she was refusing to leave Yurndale and Olivierâs class was there was no one else. Olivier might be young, but he was considered by everyone to be brilliantâto be the next big star in the legal field. Forget if he
wouldnât
help her, if he
couldnâtâŠ
She was fuckedâthey all were.
But! Emilia wasnât going to think about! She had class transcriptsâall politely redacted of names of students because some of them said impressively stupid thingsâto go over. Valor and Baylorâs arms were hooked through hers once more as she walked, barely retaining where they were going as she read and read and read. Taelor trailed behind them, as always. There when they needed him, a silent protector in their shadows.
They walked far longer than needed, leading her around the dark, increasingly quiet city while she read. In the back of her mind, Emilia wondered if they were still hoping to hook up. She wouldnât say noâshe rarely said no to anyone, let alone people sheâd already fuckedâbut her brain was just so full, her Censor annotating each of the transcripts for her and sending them off to Olivier when she finished with each.
He hadnât responded to any yetâand Emilia had no idea if he wouldâbut she liked the idea that maybe he would read them. It might not be tonight or even anytime in the next decade, two, three, but maybe, one day, he would think of her in a vague, unformed way and ache for her thoughts. He would absently reach for an essay she had written for his classâall written partially out of interest, partially out of a sadistic urge to annoy him, partially out of a desire for him to notice her, to take her case, to take herâand then want something new, something like these silly transcripts she had marked up with her thoughts and arguments and insults.
Olivier wouldnât truly remember her, the annoying little silverstrain who had stalked his classroom for months, but his Censor would. It would take that soft, unknown nostalgia for his most annoying student and bring her to him.
Ah~ it was a silly thought, Emilia knew. Something about being trapped with the man in the bathroom, though⊠there was something about him. It wasnât just that he was like her, a non-dev facing the pressure of society and himself to be the best he couldâalthough, only
his
parents were putting pressure on him, Emiliaâs parents would support her even if she wanted to fuck off to Zironia and try to join their weird ass, non-dev lecturerâs little
intellectual
cultâbecause she knew a few non-devs, and they were all alike like that.
Even when their parents and guardians werenât putting pressure on them, they did it to themselves. If you have the potential to be perfectâto be virtuous and brilliant, innovative and a positive force in the worldâshouldnât you spend every waking moment trying to be all youâre capable of?
Andre was like that, fighting with himself and his nature and the reality that he would one day be in charge of The Black Knot and their violence when he himself had no black knot to ease his guilt. The Blood Rain General was like that, even if age had allegedly tempered his intensity someâand what a truly terrifying man he must have been when he was young and even more intense! His student and heir, Hurinren, was terrifyingly intense, so much pressure put on him by the expectation that he would be
even better
than his teacher that Emilia wouldnât be surprised if he worked himself into an early death.
So, what was it about Olivier that had her aching for him to remember her? It was a new feeling for herâif anything, she often found herself hoping people would forget her, wanting to keep some semblance of a normal life and her privacy despite the reality that, one day, she would do great things and probably end up just as famous as Olivier was, as Halen was becoming.
Hopefully, it wouldnât be
famous for absconding to the Free Colonies after being found guilty of manslaughter,
but, well, that was looking increasingly more likely.
Maybe she should try to make a name for herself before that happened? Or, maybe she would take credit as the anonymous person behind the news reports on her case? Annoyingly, privacy laws were effectively
forcing
her to remain anonymous, so no mainstream media would reveal her identity, even if she asked, but she could reveal information online?
Technically
, that would still be illegal, and she could get in trouble for it, butâŠ
But, it was just so stupid! Emilia understood the need to protect vulnerable people from the mediaâfrom their own ill-advised attempts to clear their name by revealing their name and personâbut why was there nothing she could do to prove sheâd thought through the ramifications of revealing herself!? Oh, wait! There was! Sheâd even passed the stupid consultation phase, only for the stupid ass prosecutor to refuse to release her from the privacy law anyways!
Probably, the asshole realized that if she were allowed to tell her story, the public would turn against the government and realize how stupid this whole situation was, something there were already whispers ofâonly whispers, though. As it was, the government was encouraging journalistsâsecretively, of courseâto publish interviews with veterans who had faced the Blood Rain Generalâs brutality during the last Colonial War, to go over outdated research on how low- and non-devs really did deserve so much more scrutiny than the average person, to imply that non-devs left without consequences for even the smallest of crimes were more likely to do something like take over the governmentâor worse, try to start a new Free Colony.
It was, quite honestly, insane. If relations between Baalphoria and the Free Colonies were better, she might have tried having her story published abroad. Unfortunately, using the foreign news to spread her story would probably just make everything worse⊠and sheâd still have the governmentâs enforcers knocking on her door, demanding to know why sheâd breached a privacy order before they arrested her and had a monitor placed on her Censor.
Emilia would kill anyone who tried that shit on her, so, probably best to not contact the media, domestic or foreign. Anyone touching her Censor without consent was liable to lose their lives, andâ
And Olivier had sent her another message. It was a reply to her first annotated transcript, his own thoughts and comments calmly noted down next to her own rambling, unorganized ones. There were several articles attached, along with another transcript for a class that had nothing to do with the subject of her missed class, instead covering a topic sheâd veered towards on a tangent.
Olivier, who was always so good about dragging here back from her in-class tangentsâshockingly good, actually, most of her former teachers having so little patience for her that her friends had unofficially taken it upon themselves to pull her back before she annoyed the teacher so much they issued her a punishment for
disrupting class
âhad sent her a transcript so she could happily engage with her tangent.
What was she even supposed to do with that? With the small ache inside her heart that not only was he reading her thoughts as she sent them to him, but that he apparently accepted her wandering mind, at least when it wasnât going to disrupt his class plan.
Olivierâs eyes, dual toned and cutting in the shimmering light of the restaurant, shuddered through Emiliaâs mind, his voice teasing and a little cruel as he bickered with his brother over sex, all while staring her down. He had been flirtingâtempting, teasingâher, Emilia was sure.
Unfortunately, she wasnât sure what to do with thatâwhat to do with him. What she did know was that there was something about the man that called to herâthat had been calling to her since the moment she laid eyes on him.
No, since before that.
Emilia had wanted to know more about the man since the moment he installed her function, over a decade earlier. Guilt had kept her from doing so, even in a more normal
stalking him on the aethernet and in the news
way that so many of his fans had done since he was first announced as a non-dev when he was only sixteen. There was no way to describe how glad she was for that guilt and self-control now, having effectively confirmed during dinner that his being outed had been all his motherâthat Olivier himself would likely have lived for decades longer without revealing himself, had he any part in the decision.
Then, Sorvell had sent her to Olivierâs classroom, and even before pushing that door open, it had felt as though she were on a precipiceâone thatâs importance she wouldnât yet be able to see, the bottom of the jump she was about to make mysterious and black and barely a single error away from shattering.
It had been a strange feeling, and looking backâtrying to work out if it had been stress or over a decade of anticipation at meeting the man making her feel so oddâEmilia didnât think it was anything more than what it was: a feeling that she couldnât explain, an answer to a question she hadnât asked, and yet needed the answer to nonetheless.
Strange, to think that thisâthat somehow making this man take her case, making him help or maybe even like herâwas an answer to a question she knew nothing about. It wasnât the first time Emilia had experienced such odd feelings, but usually, they were much smaller; a feeling to go here or there, to go talk to someone, to avoid a specific foodâthat last one had resulted in her being the only one not to get food poisoning at a school event a few years previous.
Usually, those feelings led to good things. More often than not, they led to things that were good, but that had consequences attachedâsheâd been accused of poisoning the food as a prank, for instance.
Emilia wouldnât regret following such feelings the night she killed 'ariah, letting herself be pulled along to Lux just moments before he arrived, fully intent on killing her and then himself. Still, it was a double-edged sword.
Lux was alive. 'ariah was dead. Emilia would likely find herself sentenced to prison, and then all of their lives would be ruined when they helped her run.
Nothing would make her regret saving Lux, yet she couldnât deny, as she stared into the yawning darkness of Olivierâs attention, help, friendship, that whatever waited at the bottom was dark and destructive.
A monster, waiting to snap.