Arc 9 | Chapter 303: A Baffling Turn of Events

“You are not eating, and you only ordered… that. Is something wrong with the food here?”

Emilia startled, head snapping to the side to meet Olivier’s eyes. Cool blue and bright green stared back at her, unwavering in their intensity. When had he even come to sit by her? Hadn’t he been down the table, positioned so he could keep an eye on everyone? Granted, Lan’za was an expert at keeping people in line, and since the incident with the idiot in the museum, everyone had been rather more deferential to her.

Considering she was not only effectively ordained from birth to become the next hai’za, but her mother was the current hai’za, having inherited the position when the previous hai’ru—the word

hai’

stayed the same for each head of state, while the last syllable changed to match their final, maternal-indicator syllable—the class were properly terrified of her. The ease to which Lan’za could have them banned not just from Seer’ik’tine, but from the majority of Free Colonies, was amazing. Did Emilia have that same ability? Yes, but they didn’t need to know that, especially not when they were side eyeing her as her traitorous friend related some of the things their coren’taz had put the previous hai’ru through; they hadn’t had much of a chance to haze Lan’za’s mother in her new role yet.

The last hai’ru, Geerde’ru Lo, who had often lamented that he was only given the position by the stars due to his unending patience with the various children of diplomats, who seemed intent to run him into an early grave. Considering he had been just over 346 when he died—and therefore

well

past the average age of death in the region—Emilia quite thought his words an exaggeration. As far as she knew, none of the previous generations of

entitled diplomat brats

had been anywhere near as terrible as they had been, so for him to try and put so much blame on them—although she was sure he was mostly teasing, as he’d had more than enough reasons to have them banned from the city-state, yet had never done so—was rude!

That said, some of the stories Lan’za was relating did not present her in a great light. If she distracted Olivier well enough, maybe he wouldn’t retain any of the stories? Probably unlikely but—

Wait.

Hadn’t he asked her a question?

Fuck, and she’d just been staring him in the eyes this whole time, as her mind wandered about!

Honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t wandered off, or repeated his question. Eye flickering back to her food—the energy and embarrassment between them was just too much—Emilia admitted that she didn’t eat meat and clearly this restaurant had put no thought into their vegetarian offerings.

It wasn’t like not eating meat was something bad; rather, it was her refusal to eat even fabricated meat that was odd. Even if a restaurant weren’t using fabricators as a default, people could generally request their meat be created by the machines that pulled the aether together to simulate the taste and texture of the animal in their dish. Emilia still didn’t like it—didn’t like the feel of it in her mouth or stomach, her mind unable to accept that what she was eating

wasn’t

real. That—the inability to accept she wasn’t eating a real animal—was what made her refusal odd.

“Why not?” her pseudo-teacher asked, quiet under the sound Lan’za telling a particularly terrible tale of the time they had stolen all the shoes from the Ngen Embassy. It had been a hazing, of a sort, for the newest entry into their coren’taz. The little Ngen princess had done well, until the captain of the guard had happened across her. What had ensued afterwards was, quite frankly, a disaster. An entire wall of the ward had been destroyed, several of them had been caught by the Blood Rain General and Hurinren—although it seemed important to note the asshole had let his precious Yujao go, but not her!—while another few had attempted to swim across the Second Tide to the Dionese border.

How this would have helped, Emilia had no idea. There had been a significant amount of brill juice involved, addling everyone’s minds.

“I guess… things that happen with aether are real, in a way? Sure, I’m not eating an animal that was once alive, but also, it could be, and I’d never know?” Emilia brushed her sweat damp bangs off her forehead, cursing herself for not fixing the skill she’d designed for drying hair—it had gone a bit wonky after the last general CS update a few weeks ago. She’d only noticed when Lux, who had managed to get in a climb of The Strats a few days ago, had messaged her about how weird it was being—weird enough that Emilia didn’t want to risk using it here and leaving her bangs curling towards the sky and refusing to come down until she showered. “I can’t really get the fact that fabricators use research and analysis of dead animals to get their information either? It would be one thing if the information weren’t updated constantly, but farmers are always messing with breeding and genetics, so the code and information gets updated at the cost of animal lives, and—”

Emilia cut off, frustrated. These things both were and weren’t the exact reason she didn’t eat meat. There was more to it, but people didn’t usually get it—or thought she was crazy for putting any stock in something so theoretical. A few people thought the theory had merit, and Simeon also refused to eat meat, real or fabricated, for similar reasons.

“The updating does seem like overkill,” Olivier said, nose adorably crinkled at his inadvertent joke when Emilia looked up at him, her amusement falling as she caught sight of the fucker forcing the student behind the lawyer from his seat.

“Plus, there’s this theory that using the aether for that sort of thing isn’t actually as harmless as we think it is.”

When Olivier turned, Emilia wished she could say she catalogued the surprise that must have been written over his face to suddenly come face to face with someone who was quickly becoming the most famous man in Baalphoria. Unfortunately, she was too busy glaring at Halen’s stupid, too-attractive face.

Why did someone like

him

have to be so fucking gorgeous, practically all the women and half the men in the restaurant shooting glances his way, despite his fame not having spread to the Free Colonies. With his dark skin and cut features, tall, trim body and dark hair that reached over his arms and peeked out of his low-cut shirt, Halen looked like he could have been a local. His clothing and accent clearly marked him as Baalphorian, while the lack of intricate designs shorn into his hair—not to mention his complete lack of facial hair—marked him as firmly

not

someone who was from the Grey Sands.

“What are you doing here?” Emilia hissed, more a result of trying to keep her voice quiet, although it was clear most of the table was no longer listening to Lan’za, their attention instead focused on their surprise guest.

“You said the food here sucked. I came to try for myself,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t weird that he’d apparently left work—the guy was a workaholic and there was no way he hadn’t been working—and ridden the slide line his family had financed along with the government—they’d been planning to put a slide line in to Seer’ik’tine for a while but never found the funding or time—from Roasalia to Kalink, before switching to the exit line that stretched over The Bridge and popping up here. The entire setup was convenient—Emilia had used it a number of times to visit the city-state and acquire brill juice and other Free Colony drugs—but the length meant few people above a 10D could actually ride it without stopping; Halen, as a 3D, would have had no problems whatsoever.

Without warning, the asshole activated a skill, her pathetic little meal sliding towards him, the utensils she’d set down quickly following.

“Hey!” she protested, the sound going unacknowledged by Halen as he delicately lifted a mouthful of food to him mouth. Lips Emilia very much did not want to be reminded had probably been between her legs—only probably!—wrapped around the food and—

“Oh,” Halen muttered, visibly cringing and shuddering as he forced himself to swallow the food. “That truly is terrible. Want to try?” he held the utensils out to Olivier, challenge shining in his eyes.

Honestly, Emilia was a little surprised Olivier could be baited like that, especially by someone he must know by sight—Halen had been in the news

a lot

in the last few years, even more since they’d graduated a few months ago—but hadn’t actually been introduced to.

Olivier was just as unimpressed with the dish, although he certainly covered it better than Halen had—good manners beaten into him by his mother, no doubt. “Can we get you something else?” he asked, blinking back what she could only assume to be nausea.

Seriously, who had approved this dish!?

“I’m fine,” she told the man, trying to ignore the smile Halen was giving her as he motioned over a server. It was too… soft. The teasing she was so used to was there was well, but all the meanness was gone. Instead, he just seemed to be watching her—enjoying watching her.

What the fuck was happening?

“There wasn’t really anything I wanted on the menu,” she continued, watching the way Olivier’s expression didn’t quite flinch, but certainly showed… something. Disappointment? Regret? Well, he had chosen the restaurant, so she supposed he might very well feel like it was his fault she didn’t find anything to her liking here. “It’s fine. I’ll just eat something later. I’m used to not eating,” she added, almost immediately regretting it when Halen’s eyes sharpened, Olivier’s turned to confusion, and Lan’za spilled over her words in mild horror.

So… maybe joking that she was used to not eating because she’d grown up in a shitty, abusive orphanage wasn’t the best idea? Too late. “Seriously, it’s—”

“I’ll take her to a restaurant I know has good vegetarian food,” Halen offered, much to Emilia’s growing horror. The fact that Lan’za was over there, eyes shifting between them because the last few times she’d seen her and Halen together, her terrible friend had insisted he liked her—like,

like

liked her.

Absolutely not. Halen didn’t like her—he barely tolerated her most of the time! That was a core part of their relationship! Neither of them liked each other, but they knew the other was brilliant—good competition and motivation—and used those two things to fuck with each other and push themselves forward.

“I know Lan’za must have been invited to keep Emilia controlled—”

“Hey!”

“—but I’m sure I can manage her for an hour, in order to make sure she doesn’t get hangry,” Halen continued, both he and Olivier completely ignoring her. It were as though she were a child they needed to manage, and not an almost adult in the eyes of the law—in the eyes of

Baalphorian

law, no less. In Seer’ik’tine, she was definitely an adult! “And if not, I can always push her into the lake.”

“I will take you with me,” she promised.

“I know,” her asshole classmate—

former

classmate—replied, not even deigning to look away from Olivier. “I’m Halen Mhrina, by the way. Although, I’m sure you already know that.”

“Cocky much?” Emilia grumbled. Were her arms crossed over her chest like she was a pouting child? Yes. She had no regrets.

A laugh bubbled out of Halen, one of the full and happy ones that had his green eyes squeezing closed. “I did tell you, Olivier’s cousin works for me. Axelle was so excited she was allowed the job; I can’t imagine she didn’t mention me. She certainly mentions him enough.”

Wait. The person writing smutty stories about her and Halen’s hacking personas getting it on was Olivier’s cousin!?

“Axelle has mentioned you, but I would have known you regardless.”

“And I you. You’re made quite a name for yourself, plus, well~” Halen’s eyes slid to Emilia, the implication that he also knew about Olivier because of Emilia clear, and yeah, sure. Virtually everyone even loosely associated with their friend group had known about the situation with ‘ariah, both when he’d been devolving, each attempt to sort out his traumatic black knot bringing it back worse and increasingly the tension in their grade, and when she had killed him. Everyone knew what the other lawyers said: give up. Everyone knew Sorvell and his father had led her to Olivier, considered by all of them to be her last hope.

It was still strange to know that Halen was, what, keeping track of her and the situation? As much as they’d been in the same class for half their lives, they didn’t actually share any friends between them, and she had kinda assumed he would forget about her after graduation—that she would prank his office, and only then would he remember she existed. Then, he would have to get her back. That was how their rivalry worked. Even then, she would have assumed he’d get her back and forget about her once more.

She was supposed to be nothing to him, and yet, here he was.

Here Halen was, chatting softly with Olivier about

her

case, offering to talk to him about it anytime. Here was Halen, getting permission to feed her, and then fucking manhandling her out of her chair and dragging her off, only pausing to frown at her and let his own hair taming skill fix her hair, before continuing on. The guy didn’t even demand a thank you, the way he had every other time he had

helped

her.

Seriously!? What the fuck was happening!?