The wooden balcony floor creaked under her measured steps.
Kael didn't turn to face her. Quite frankly, he was shitting his pants. He recognized the particular rhythm of Lyssa's movement, the way her feet landed evenly, deliberately, like every step had been plotted three turns ahead.
How can he?
Perhaps Kael knew her?
The previous Inhabitant of this body was known by all as an incredibly unsociable, sadistic psycho. Chances are whatever relationship Kael probably has with this one, Lyssa, is most likely hostile.
"Thanks, System," Kael muttered in his head.
It felt like forever as Lyssa slowly made her way toward him.
She smelled like berries—the kind his mom used to pluck from the garden back when life wasn't a hellfire of expectations and secrecy and burning stars.
"I miss Mother."
Does she know what happened to him?
Her son just disappeared from the face of the planet.
'Yeah. I doubt it.'
She stopped a few feet away, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. The moonlight caught the trim of her travel cloak, making the silver embroidery shimmer like water under pressure.
"You don't look like someone who just won an argument," she said at last.
Kael snorted softly. "Who said I was arguing?"
"Kieren certainly thought so."
"He was the one that started it."
Lyssa tilted her head. "He was baiting you, and you fell for it."
"Perhaps maybe I let him."
She didn't sit. There were chairs scattered around the balcony—Kael had chosen one that let him slouch and avoid eye contact—but she remained standing, arms folded loosely across her chest, eyes flicking between the lake and Kael's expression. It made him itch.
"I didn't come to lecture you," she said after a moment. "You handled yourself better than I expected."
"Should I be flattered?"
"Maybe."
Kael glanced at her sidelong. "Then why are you here?"
There was a pause. Then—
"I wanted to see what you'd do when no one was watching."
That earned a laugh from him—low, tired, almost genuine.
"What did you expect me to do? Drop to my knees and weep just because nobody likes me?"
Lyssa didn't smile. "No, I just expected you to be sadder maybe."
"How do you know I'm not?"
"I can tell if you are. I have a low-grade Module that detects emotional state. Almost like an Empath."
That surprised him.
How does she have a Module?
Kael knew most had Modules, were easy enough to acquire.
Especially for someone like Lyssa who probably had it passed down from generation to generation.
But to actually have two—to sync it with your previous module and core—was another story. That required refinement. Control. Power.
You needed to be at least B-core ranked.
Lyssa, if the timeline he remembered was accurate, never should have had two Modules. Not this early.
And yet she stood there like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like she wasn't already warping the shape of the narrative.
It may not seem powerful, but it was an incredible utility tool. Low flash, high value.
He turned to look at her properly now, brow raised. "Didn't think you were the type to let someone peek under your hood."
She met his gaze without flinching. "You're different, Kael."
"How so?"
"You say less than everyone else," she said. "You answer questions without giving anything. You don't try to control the conversation—but you always end up deciding where it goes."
Kael's smile returned. Subtle. Sharp. "That sounds awfully flattering, coming from someone who voted to avoid me."
Her eyes momentarily widened in confusion, caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to hear that.
"I didn't vote," she said. "They all made that choice on their own."
"You didn't stop them."
"No."
Another pause.
Then, quieter: "Would you have wanted me to?"
Kael looked back at the lake.
The wind brushed across the water's surface, carrying whispers that only he seemed to hear. Thin ripples scattered outward, broken glass catching starlight.
"I want to be left alone," he said.
Lyssa stepped forward. Just a pace.
"And yet, here you are. In our group. At our table."
"I didn't ask for that."
"But you didn't stop it, either."
Kael turned to her fully now. The humor was gone from his face. All sharpness, all angles, all ice.
"Let me make something clear, Lyssa. I didn't come here to bond. I didn't come here to join the party. I never wanted to be here, okay? So can you genuinely, please, just piss off?"
He stepped forward.
"I don't want to have anything to do with you guys."
Lyssa didn't flinch.
But her voice softened. Just a touch.
"You're meaner than you used to be."
Uh.
What?
How does she know me?
Kael blinked. Once. Twice.
The novel never implied he had any kind of prior relationship with the main cast.
Especially not the female lead.
They stood there in silence again.
Kael was shitting bricks.
He didn't show it—he kept his body still, kept his eyes cool—but inside he was all fire alarms and screaming red signs.
Was this deviation? A ripple? Or had he missed something from the very beginning?
He hated not knowing.
He hated not being in control.
Lyssa shifted her weight slightly. "You don't remember, do you?"
His throat clenched.
"Remember what?"
There was something in her expression then—something complicated. Like regret, but older. She stared at him like she was trying to unearth something behind his eyes. A truth buried too deep.
"...Nothing," she said. "Forget I said anything."
Kael didn't press. He couldn't. Not without revealing that there was something to reveal.
So he turned away again.
But even with his back to her, her presence stayed. Not like a shadow. Like a brand.
"Goodnight, Kael," she said.
He didn't answer.
She lingered one heartbeat longer.
Then she left. Ice trails lingering around her. The creak of wood under her boots slowly faded into the corridor beyond.
Kael exhaled.
"System," he whispered inside his head. "What the hell was that?"
...Calculating.
Of course it was.
He leaned back into the chair, staring up at the moon above.
Cold. Distant. Watching.
Just like him.