Chapter 277: This Joint Briefing is an S-Rank Social Hazard

Professor Petrova approached the door and didn’t bother knocking. Instead, she struck it three times with her silver-tipped riding crop.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

"Open up. Inspection time."

A moment passed. Then two. Professor Petrova’s eye began to twitch.

The door swung open.

The woman leaning against the frame was not what Celeste had expected. She had messy black hair, an eyepatch that sat slightly crooked, and a half-empty bottle of something amber in one hand. Her white blouse was untucked. Her expression suggested she had either just woken up from a nap or was about to start a party and hadn’t decided which.

This was Carmen Navarro. Teaching Assistant for Class 1-E. And apparently, the Onyx Hounds’ first line of defense.

"Well, well." Carmen’s voice was a lazy drawl. "If it isn’t the Snow Queen and her seven dwarves. You’re early. We haven’t even hidden the illegal contraband yet."

Professor Petrova’s posture somehow became even more rigid. "We are precisely on time,

Professor

Navarro. Your watch is simply broken." A pause. "Or perhaps you pawned it for liquor."

"Ouch." Carmen didn’t look wounded. She looked delighted. "Someone needs a drink." She stepped aside with an exaggerated bow.

They entered Onyx House.

The interior was chaos given architectural form. The living room alone contained more activity than an entire week at the Argent dorms.

A muscular blonde was doing one-armed pushups in the middle of the floor, counting each rep with aggressive intensity. "Forty-seven! Forty-eight! FORTY-NINE!"

A girl with black hair and a blindingly bright smile was sitting on top of a bookshelf for reasons that defied explanation. She waved when she saw them. "Hi, shiny people!"

Another girl with pink and indigo hair was sprawled across a couch, methodically cleaning a knife. She didn’t look up. She didn’t acknowledge their presence at all.

The air smelled of pizza. And sweat. And something that might have been ozone or might have been a recently discharged Aspect.

Julian produced a silk handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose. "Barbaric," he muttered. "Absolutely barbaric."

"Meeting room’s downstairs," Carmen announced, waving her bottle vaguely toward a hallway. "Juan! Take the glitter squad to the basement."

Something stirred in a beanbag chair that Celeste had assumed was just an unusually lumpy piece of furniture. A young man unfolded himself from its depths. He was wearing what looked like expensive clothes, except they were so rumpled they might as well have been pajamas. His dark hair stuck up at angles that suggested a recent and violent encounter with sleep.

He yawned so widely that Celeste could count his molars.

"This way," he said, his voice barely rising above a mumble. "Don’t touch the walls. We don’t know what that stain is."

He shuffled toward the hallway without checking to see if they followed.

Celeste bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.

This place is insane,

she thought.

Completely, utterly insane.

She found herself hiding a smile behind her hand.

The basement briefing room was a jarring contrast to everything above it. High-tech displays lined the walls. A proper holographic projector dominated the center of a long table. Whatever Professor Braxton Miller’s faults might be, he apparently took operational preparation seriously.

A woman with wine-red hair sat at the head of the table. Isabelle Okoye. Celeste recognized her immediately. She had been one of the most sought-after prospects during the draft, a recommendation student with S-Rank potential who had inexplicably ended up in the Onyx Hounds.

She looked every inch the queen, despite the surroundings. Perhaps because of them.

The other Hounds filed in. The muscle-bound blonde from upstairs. The girl from the bookshelf, still radiating sunshine. A nervous-looking boy with thick glasses. A pink-haired girl who seemed to be trying to make herself invisible. And others.

The Argent Sentinels took one side of the table. The Onyx Hounds took the other. The air between them could have frozen water.

Professor Petrova stood at the front, her riding crop tapping against her palm. She scanned the room. Her eyes narrowed.

"Where is he?"

Julian’s face lit up with vindicated triumph. "Typical! The coward is hiding! He knows he’s outclassed, so he’s—"

Isabelle didn’t look up from her datapad. She made a small gesture toward the sleepy boy, Juan, who had somehow already found a corner to slouch in.

Juan scratched his head. "Satori said he’d be a minute. He had urgent business."

Professor Petrova’s eye twitched. "What business could possibly be more important than a joint operation briefing with the top-ranked guild?"

"He said he had to feed his snail. Bartholomew gets cranky if he misses dinner."

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

Professor Petrova’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. No sound emerged.

Julian turned a color that Celeste had never seen on a human face before. Something between crimson and purple, with undertones of impending cardiac event.

"His...

snail

?"

The Onyx Hounds weren’t embarrassed. They weren’t apologetic. They were

smirking

.

Celeste bit her lip so hard she tasted copper.

Don’t laugh,

she told herself.

Don’t you dare laugh. You are Celeste Vance. You are the VHC President’s sister. You are poised and perfect and you do NOT laugh at—

The girl from the bookshelf, Hikari, raised her hand. "Bartholomew is very particular about his feeding schedule! Satori takes excellent care of him. It’s really sweet, actually."

"A... snail." Julian seemed stuck on the concept. "He’s keeping us waiting. For a

snail

."

The knife-cleaning girl on the Hounds’ side, Skylar, finally looked up. Her violet eyes held nothing but contempt.

"Bartholomew is an important member of this guild," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Show some damn respect."

Ten minutes later, the door to the briefing room swung open.

Satori Nakano stood in the doorway with his red hair dripping wet, clearly fresh from the shower.

Celeste felt her breath catch.

There was something about him that demanded attention. His eyes scanned the room with lazy confidence, lingering just a second too long on each face before moving to the next. When his gaze found hers, something electric shot through her body—a jolt of heat that started at her spine and radiated outward.

She looked away first. She never looked away first.

"Sorry he’s late," Natalia said, slipping into the room behind Satori. Her purple hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. The contrast between them was striking. "Braxton told him to pick up some more cigs, and he got lost finding his way back."

Professor Petrova’s face could have frozen hellfire. "What about your... snail?"

"Oh, Bartholomew needed lettuce too," Satori said, voice casual as he dropped into a chair at the Onyx table. He leaned back, balancing on two legs. "If it’s too soft, he won’t eat it. He’s a very particular snail."

Julian made a strangled sound.

"You expect us to believe," he sputtered, "that you kept us waiting because you were shopping for vegetables? For a

gastropod

?"

Satori met his glare with mild amusement. "I don’t expect you to believe anything, Valerius. I don’t think about you enough to have expectations."