Chapter 361: The Bait and the Target

The transport rumbled beneath us, eating up miles of countryside as we headed toward the Gate site after hitting the main land. Six hours trapped in a metal box with five other people was exactly as fun as it sounded.

I sat near the back, giving me a clear view of everyone. Monica and Celeste had ended up together, heads bent over a datapad as Celeste quietly explained something about Gate navigation protocols. Noah stood in the aisle beside them, her eyes constantly scanning for threats despite the fact that we were in a secure transport on a VHC-patrolled highway.

Talk about paranoia.

Then again, someone had tried to murder her charge, so maybe it was justified.

Juan stirred as the transport hit a particularly rough patch of road, his eyes blinking open with the reluctant awareness of someone who would rather stay unconscious. He glanced around, oriented himself, then sighed dramatically when he caught me watching him.

"What a drag," he muttered.

I slid into the seat across from him. "Sleep well?"

"I was, until the road decided to try and break my spine." He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "What do you want?"

"Status report."

His eyes sharpened slightly. "Now?"

"Unless you’d prefer to give it in front of everyone."

Juan glanced around the transport, then shrugged. "Fine. Short version: nothing suspicious. I’ve been watching Vance like you asked. She’s clean."

"You’re sure?"

"As sure as I can be without literally living in her pocket." He lowered his voice. "Look, I’ve tracked her movements, monitored her communications—nothing raises red flags. She spends most of her time with Noah or Monica, occasionally meets with some high-level VHC officials that are probably her sister’s spies, and studies like her life depends on it."

"That’s it?"

"What were you expecting? Secret midnight meetings with masked assassins? Suspicious packages delivered by unmarked drones?" He shook his head. "Celeste Vance is exactly what she appears to be: the VHC President’s perfectly crafted little sister. If she’s involved in whatever happened at the Necropolis, she’s hiding it better than anyone I’ve ever seen."

I frowned, watching Celeste as she patiently corrected something on Monica’s datapad. She looked the picture of innocence—pale, perfect, poised.

"What about Noah?" I asked.

"The bodyguard?" Juan considered this. "Devoted to Vance. Almost fanatically so. But nothing in her behavior suggests she’s working against her charge. The opposite, actually. I’ve seen her check Celeste’s food for poison twice."

"That’s... extreme."

"That’s the VHC security protocol for high-value assets." He shrugged. "Look, I don’t think anyone’s dumb enough to try anything against Seraphina’s baby sister again. Whoever planted that A-Rank monster in the Necropolis has to know they’re on borrowed time. The President isn’t exactly known for her mercy."

He had a point. Seraphina Vance was rumored to have disappeared political rivals for less than an assassination attempt on her sister.

Still, something felt off.

"You don’t look convinced," Juan observed.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"What if Celeste wasn’t the target?"

Juan raised an eyebrow. "You mean the monster was after someone else in that dungeon? Like who? You?"

I hadn’t considered that possibility, but now that he mentioned it...

"Maybe." I shook my head. "Or maybe it was meant to look like an attack on Celeste to cover for something else."

"Man, your brain is a scary place." Juan slouched further in his seat. "This whole thing is such a drag. We should be back at the dorm, sleeping through classes like normal people, not chasing conspiracies and fighting monsters."

"You can always transfer to a different guild."

"Too much work." He closed his eyes. "Besides, where else would I get such quality entertainment?" He gestured vaguely toward the front of the transport, where Jaime was now demonstrating proper squat form to a thoroughly unimpressed Raphael.

I left Juan to his nap and moved back to my original seat, my thoughts churning. If Juan couldn’t find any evidence linking Celeste or Noah to the Necropolis incident, then either they weren’t involved, or they were better at covering their tracks than I’d given them credit for.

The transport hit another bump, jostling everyone. Monica’s plant—Copernicus—glowed a bit brighter in response to her startled grip. Celeste placed a steadying hand on Monica’s arm, and I watched the botanical controller relax slightly.

I glanced out the window, watching the landscape roll by. We’d left the urban sprawl behind hours ago, passing through farmland and forests on our way to the Gate site. According to the map, we were about an hour out from our destination—a remote area that had been cleared and cordoned off by VHC security forces when the Gate appeared three days ago.

Standard procedure. The VHC didn’t like civilians getting too close to active Gates.

Bad for PR when people got eaten.

I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the persistent sense of unease gnawing at my gut. Everything about this mission looked textbook. A C-Rank Gate with a balanced monster ecosystem and a single boss entity. A qualified team with the firepower to handle anything the dungeon could throw at us. Clear extraction protocols and emergency beacons in case something went sideways.

So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap?

Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe the Necropolis had gotten into my head more than I wanted to admit.

Or maybe I’d learned that in this world, coincidences usually came with teeth.

The transport jolted again, and I opened my eyes to find Noah standing over me, her expression unreadable.

"Nakano," she said, her voice clipped and formal. "Lady Celeste requests your input on the entry formation."

I raised an eyebrow. "I’m just a porter, remember? Team Gamma is her show."

"She insists."

I sighed and stood up, making my way to where Celeste sat with her datapad. The screen showed a 3D model of what was presumably our target Gate—a swirling vortex of energy suspended between two ancient-looking stone pillars.

"You wanted me?" I asked.

Celeste looked up, her periwinkle eyes cool and assessing. "Given your... concerns about potential irregularities, I thought you might have opinions about our initial approach."

Translation: she knew I thought this might be a trap and wanted to use my paranoia to her advantage.

Smart girl.