"Watch this."
Ley peeled away from Kez and walked toward the center of the room where all the gravity had pooled. The Core Four. Jack. The people everyone else angled themselves around without admitting it.
He walked like he'd done it before. No hesitation, no adjustment. Just smooth, easy confidence. Like this wasn't a party he was crashing...it was one being thrown in his honor, and they'd all just forgotten.
The Core Four noticed him immediately. Not with dramatic stares, just the kind of shifts that meant something had registered. Cael's grin adjusted like a blade finding a sharper edge. Eva turned a little more fully toward the room. Dren didn't move, but something in his shoulders changed. Yla's hand brushed the side of her coat and stayed there.
Jack didn't look. He didn't need to. Jack didn't do entrances. People just reacted.
Ley arrived anyway.
"Some party," he said, hands in his pockets. "You guys always stand like that, or is this just your promo poses?"
No one laughed.
Cael looked him over like he was reading a label on something he wasn't going to buy. "Do we know you?"
"Not yet," Ley said. "But we will. Ley Quinston." He offered a hand, knowing full well it wouldn't be taken.
Cael didn't move. "Ley Quinston," he repeated, like it tasted wrong. "That a brand of cologne or something?"
Somebody nearby snorted.
Ley's grin didn't slip. "Not quite. But I do tend to linger."
Eva's voice cut in before Cael could reply. "That's a dangerous attitude in a room like this."
Ley glanced her way, tone lighter now, but still sharp around the edges. "Is it? I figured dangerous would be not saying anything and letting people assume worse."
She looked at him for a moment, then gave a small, dry smile. Not warm. Just mildly amused. Like watching someone juggle sharp objects and wondering how long it would last.
Dren still hadn't spoken, but Ley turned his attention anyway.
"You look like someone who does the math on people. So, what's my score?"
Dren replied without looking at him. "I don't bother scoring people who won't be here next month."
Ley smiled cockily. "Then I'll be the exception."
Yla hadn't said anything at all. Ley met her eyes — quiet, unreadable — and tilted his head the tiniest bit.
"You're the one they watch out of the corner of their eye, aren't you?" he said. "I get it."
Yla didn't answer. Just blinked, slow and steady.
Ley turned last to Jack, who still hadn't acknowledged him.
He stood there a second longer, then spoke like he was noting something, not asking.
"You set the curve," he said. "But be careful because I might catch up soon."
Jack passed him without a glance.
Ley didn't move. He let the moment sit. Then turned back to the circle with the same easy confidence he'd walked in with. Not a victory lap. Just a reentry. Like he belonged.
People were watching now. Not just the Core Four. Everyone.
Meanwhile, across the room, Kez was watching it unfold — not from behind a curtain or from the shadows, but from the snack table, where he was five skewers deep, two dumplings down, and calculating how many puff pastry things he could fit in his stomach before leaving. He scooped up a frankly irresponsible amount of caviar onto a cracker and bit down with absolute delight. The rich and creamy taste overwhelmed his tastebuds.
'Unreal. Look at this guy,' Kez thought as he reached for another cracker. "Walks in like he owns the place, drops a few try-hard cringy lines, and now he's everyone's favorite problem'
He washed the bite down with something fancy and probably imported. He tried to read the name and details on the label, but the writing was in a language he couldn't understand. The taste was smooth and sweet, almost like fruit syrup. It didn't burn or bite, just lingered with a rich, mellow aftertaste that settled on his tongue. He reminded himself to make sure it wasn't alcoholic. People around him had mentioned he could get a little violent after drinking.
'Doesn't taste like alcohol' He thought as he took another gulp, spilling a bit of the drink on his new shirt.
'Was Ley even in the novel? I don't remember this part. Maybe this is one of those off-page events. Or maybe he's freelancing. Maybe this happened because of me getting involved with him...Fuck me what kind of ability is this????'
"Damn it, I... I wanna be the one at the center'a all this" Kez mumbled, smacking the edge of the table a little too hard and nearly knocking over a stack of tiny dessert spoons. He caught one mid-fall, stuffed a tart into his mouth like it owed him something, and sulked into his next bite.
Ley was holding the room now. Not just the Core Four...the room. Students who had been pretending not to watch had all turned, some whispering, others locked in place. Even the music had faded into a low ambient hum, like it knew better than to compete.
As for Kez, he'd already accomplished his original two objectives:One — remember how the novel flowed by watching it happen in real time.Two — secure dinner.
"Well... I should prob'ly leave after tryin' out some da desserts... those flans sure look amazin'," Kez mumbled, blinking slow. "Ain't no point tryin' to get noticed here, even if... even if I might need it later. Got stuff to do... stuff that's way easier if no one's lookin' at me...I ion even need no attention like that guy..."
"Fuggin' show-off..." Kez slurred, barely swallowing the last bite as he spoke, voice low and sticky with irritation.
Then he reached for another skewer.
One of the servers gave him a concerned look.
Kez froze, mid-grab.
"What?" he said, voice a little louder than it needed to be. "You serving food or serving judgment?"
The server blinked. "Sir, I just—"
"I'm a guest, aren't I?" Kez stepped forward, eyes unfocused but jaw tight. "I got invited. I'm allowed to eat. Or is there a five-skewer limit I missed on the way in? Oh hey, look everyone... it'sh Mister Skewer Guardian over here."
The server took a cautious step back. "No, I just— you looked like you were about to—"
"About to what?" Kez said, dropping the skewer onto his plate with a sharp clatter. "Eat too enthusiastically? Steal the silverware? Yeah alright, maybe one or two pieces walk off by accident, but why ya lookin' at me like I planned it?" He gestured vaguely at the table. "Lord forbid I use the damn snack table for what it's... y'know, for."
His voice had risen. Heads were turning.
Kez noticed too late.
He let out a breath that was too sharp, then rubbed his face with one hand. "Whatever," he muttered. "Forget it."
He grabbed the skewer anyway and stuffed it into his mouth as if proving something.
When he turned, Jack was standing behind him.
Not close. Not dramatic. Just there, holding a drink in one hand, expression unreadable. Watching.
"Fffuh... fuh d'you wan'?" Kez mumbled around the skewer still dangling from his lips, the words thick and half-swallowed, grease and cracker bits clinging to the corners like he'd forgotten what chewing was.
"Enjoying yourself, huh?" Jack said quietly. "Hat-snatcher."
The words landed with strange clarity. For a moment, Kez just blinked at him, confused and still chewing. Then his expression shifted — part indignation, part disbelief.
"Th' kid was cryin' before I even got there," Kez slurred, waving his arms like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. "It was windy, alright? Hat was gonna fly off anyway. I saved it."
Jack said nothing. Just kept watching.
Kez narrowed his eyes. "What, you think I wanted it? Wasn't even a good hat. Hah. I got better hats. Real ones. One with that cool design on it... the, uh... novelty type." He snorted. "Real collector stuff. Haha."
Still nothing. Just that steady gaze.
"And besides," Kez went on, swaying slightly, "you act like you never stole nothin'. Bet you got secrets. Bet you cheated on some test or... or stole someone's spot up top. You just walked in like... all tall and glowy like some kind of—"
Jack's eyebrow twitched.
"Yeah, that's right," Kez said, jabbing a finger in his direction, nearly missing. "Walkin' around all mysterious like you're the main character or somethin'. Big man, huh? You proud'a that? You're just... just a guy. Nah. A kid. A tall, moody-ass kid with a name that sounds like a boot brand. Ya think y'can look down on me?" He scoffed, bitter and unsteady. "Guess what. I used t' be the real deal. That...guy's right hand... people used'ta... cower jus' hearin' my name..."
Those last words came out garbled, more sound than syllable, as his central Asian accent slipped and his breath hitched from the speed of it all.
A few people nearby had turned to watch.
Kez took a breath, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and stared Jack down.
He wobbled, then scoffed as if recalling something, swaying as he spoke. "You... you jus' jealous you didn' get th' hat," he slurred, lips barely keeping up with his brain. "Was mine soon's I saw it. Tha' kid... pffft... kid had no chance, bahaha... that lil' gremlin' was busy bawlin' his eyes out when it was already on my head."
No response.
Jack didn't even blink.
Kez chuckled again. "Wha's wrong, eh? Thought the big scary top-ranker'd have somethin' to say. C'mon. Say somethin' cool. Gimme the stoic hero line. Y'know you been practicin' in the mirror."
Still nothing.
Kez grinned like he was winning. "What, too scared? Or do ya need time to rehearse? Hey everyone, look at this pussy... y'all really think he gonna save the world? Maybe even you yourself believe that, huh?" He let out a sloppy laugh. "Bahaha... you're just some sad rat, man. Climbin' this big shiny ladder like it's gonna lead somewhere. Dreamin' to drag down the top guys..."
He swayed, pointing clumsily, words dragging now. "Ya know where you gonna end up? All the way... all the way at the bottom, man. Jus' remember that while you're still climbin', eh? Cause at the end of the day, that's all you are... a miserable failure..."
A few more heads turned. The room was watching now.
And Jack?
Jack stepped forward.
Slow. Calm.
He looked at Kez for half a second more, then hit him with a clean, quiet punch to the jaw.
There was no wind-up. No flare. Just one precise motion.
Kez's head snapped sideways, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before his knees gave out and he crumpled sideways onto the floor with a heavy thud.
Silence.
The crowd froze.
A server dropped a glass somewhere in the back.
Jack adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, glanced once at the unconscious mess at his feet, and turned to walk away—expression unreadable, just as before.
Behind him, Kez lay in a loose tangle of limbs and crumbs, a smear of sauce on his cheek, bunch of silverware falling from his pant pockets and one stolen cracker crushed under his hand.