KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess Chapter 20: [17] Drip, Drop

Xavier swung the boutique's glass door open with his foot, arms loaded with glossy shopping bags emblazoned with the Divine Threads logo. The weighted door caught the afternoon sunlight, casting prismatic reflections across the sidewalk as it swung shut behind them.

"You're insane," Calypso said, but her face betrayed her delight. She twirled on the sidewalk, her new silver-blue dress catching the light in ripples. Pedestrians slowed to stare at the goddess-turned-mortal, so walking into each other when she flashed them a smile.

"Probably," Xavier agreed, shifting the bags to distribute their weight. His credit chip was several thousand dollars lighter, with twelve more monthly paynts to follow. "But so what? We'll make it work."

The sales associate had been all too happy to set up a paynt plan—$2,000 down, with another $2,000 per month for the next year. Highway robbery, but the look on Calypso's face when he'd agreed had been worth it.

Mostly worth it.

Maybe.

Shit.

Xavier pushed the creeping buyer's remorse aside. Money was just money. In his previous life, he'd made and lost fortunes with equal disregard. This world couldn't be that different.

"Besides," he said, more to himself than to Calypso, "there are plenty of ways to make money in a place like this."

Calypso whirled to face him. "Like what? Getting a job?" She pronounced the word "job" like it was so obscure, vaguely distasteful foreign custom.

"If necessary." Xavier smirked. "Though I prefer alternative revenue streams."

"Such as?"

"Rich won with poor judgnt, for starters." Xavier's purple eyes scanned the passing crowd, automatically identifying potential marks from their jewelry, clothing, and the subtle tells of wealth and loneliness. "This city's crawling with bored hunter wives and corporate heiresses."

Calypso crossed her arms. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? I've got the face for it." He flashed her the smile that had opened doors and legs in his previous life. "And I'm not exactly lacking in... technical expertise."

"So your grand plan is to whore yourself out to pay for my dress?" Calypso's voice rose enough that several passersby turned to look. "That's your solution?"

"I prefer 'high-end companion,'" Xavier corrected, lowering his voice. "And it's not just your dress—it's everything we bought."

He hefted the bags higher. Beyond the dress, they'd acquired training clothes for both of them, several everyday outfits, and a handful of accessories that Elise had insisted were "absolutely necessary for any respectable Catalyst student."

Total damage: $24,000, with $22,000 financed.

"Besides," he continued, "there are other options. Underground fighting, gambling—"

"You're going to get yourself killed before classes even start." Calypso's pink eyes narrowed. "I did not pull your soul from oblivion just to watch you die in so seedy basent fight club."

Xavier checked his watch. "10:20. We should head back. The ferry to Catalyst leaves at 11:30."

They turned toward their apartnt building, weaving through the morning crowd. The sidewalks had filled with a mix of corporate workers, hunters in training, and the occasional genuine A or B-rank hunter who drew stares and whispered excitent in their wake.

"You know," Xavier said as they waited for a pedestrian crossing signal, "back in my world, I had a reputation for making problems disappear. People paid well for that particular skill set."

"You an killing people."

"Sotis." He shrugged. "Sotis just scaring them, or stealing sothing, or getting information. The point is, I've never had trouble making money when I needed it."

Calypso sighed. "I don't think assassinations are going to fly in a hunter academy. Besides, your mories should tell you that C-rank and above hunters are basically superhuman. You'd get flattened."

The signal changed, and they crossed the street into the residential district.

"I'll figure sothing out," Xavier assured her. "Debt is tomorrow's problem."

The lobby of Midtown Heights was busy with residents heading out for work or training, delivery drones dropping off packages, maintenance staff tending to the crystal fixtures that powered the building's systems. They caught an elevator with three other residents, all of whom gave Calypso's dress appreciative glances.

When the doors opened at the eleventh floor, Xavier led the way to 1103, juggling bags to retrieve his access card. The door slid open with a soft chi, welcoming them ho.

"Shower," Calypso declared, dropping her single bag on the couch and heading for the bathroom. "I need to get ready."

"Take your ti," Xavier called after her. "We've got forty minutes before we need to leave."

The sound of running water soon filled the apartnt. Xavier set the remaining bags on the kitchen counter and collapsed onto the couch, his body sinking into the plush cushions. He closed his eyes, letting the tension of the morning drain away.

After a mont, he reached for the remote control and activated the wall-mounted screen. Might as well see what passed for entertainnt in this world.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a news channel reporting on a gate appearance in southern Europe. Xavier flipped through several channels—a cooking show featuring ingredients from beyond gates, a reality program following the lives of C-rank hunters, a historical docuntary about the Cataclysm.

He paused when a logo appeared on screen: "GATE BREAK" in aggressive, stylized lettering.

"—absolutely ridiculous!" A woman with vibrant blue hair slamd her palm on a desk.

The cara pulled back to reveal a studio set with three people seated around a reinforced crystal table. The blue-haired woman—Jazz, according to the caption—gestured wildly while her counterpart, an older man with the physique of a retired athlete, sighed dramatically.

"Let show you the NUMBERS," the woman said, bringing up a holographic display. "This incoming class has four—FOUR—students with S-rank potential before they've even started formal training."

A moderator in a sharp suit with an orange pocket square leaned forward. "For our viewers just joining us: we're discussing Director Angelo's controversial statent that this year's incoming class at Catalyst Academy might be the strongest in the school's history."

"Because it IS!" Jazz shouted, standing up now. "Helena Wilson, Dimitri Korzhakov, Kensei Moriyama, AND Ashley Martin all in one year? It's unprecedented!"

Xavier sat up straighter at the ntion of Dimitri. So the arrogant prick from the store wasn't just wealthy—he was genuinely powerful.

The older man—Marcus, according to his caption—pulled up student profiles on the holographic display. "Let's break this down. Yes, all four of those students are exceptional with a lot of potential. But are we forgetting who's entering their third year at Catalyst?"

Jazz threw her hands up. "Here we go!"

"The Big Three!" Marcus continued, undeterred. "Dominic Black, whose Absolute Montum allowed him to assist Sentinels in a Tier-3 gate breach as a second-year. Azalea Motley, who can literally predict attack patterns seconds before they happen. And THALIA—"

"We know who they are!" Jazz interrupted. "But potential is about ceiling, not current ability! These first-years could surpass them all!"

"That's blasphemy!" Marcus slamd his fist down, causing the table to crack slightly. A counter in the corner of the screen ticked up by one, reading "Desk Repairs This Month: 7."

Xavier chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Huh. The mories didn't do justice to how big a deal Catalyst is." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So that fucker Dimitri is actually that strong?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Even better." He laughed. "The higher they climb, the harder they fall. And I'm going to enjoy watching him plumt."

"What are you watching?"

Xavier's head snapped up. Calypso stood directly in front of him, water droplets cascading down her body. The towel wrapped around her torso barely covered the essentials, leaving her long legs completely exposed. More water trickled down her inner thighs, and her silver hair hung in damp tendrils around her face.

"Just..." Xavier's voice caught as he tracked a particularly bold droplet making its way down her collarbone. "Just so hunter analysis show."

Calypso leaned forward to see the screen, causing her towel to shift precariously. "Oh, is it good?"

Xavier couldn't decide if she was oblivious to her near-nakedness or deliberately tornting him. Her pink eyes held no guile as she pointed at the screen, but the goddess he'd t in the afterlife had been manipulative enough to make him suspicious.

If she was innocent, he'd feel a twinge of guilt for what he was about to do. If she was teasing him...

Well, even goddesses couldn't out-tease Xavier Valentine.