Chapter 175: My Girlfriend Is a Better Revolutionary Than I Am
Natalia nodded, her tactical mind already working through scenarios. Then she glanced at my desk, where Bartholow the Immortal Snail was slowly consuming a piece of lettuce in his absurdly expensive terrarium.
"We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Going to war with the VHC."
"Not war. Infiltration. Information gathering. We’re going to smile, train, and play the part of model students while we dig up every buried secret they don’t want found." I pulled her closer. "And when we have enough ammunition..."
"We burn the whole rotten system down and build sothing better from the ashes."
"Now you’re thinking like a revolutionary."
She laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was bright and genuine and completely at odds with the sedition we were plotting. "My friends would die if they could see
now. Little Miss Perfect, the girl who color-codes her notes and never breaks a rule, planning to investigate the VHC."
"You broke plenty of rules with ."
"That’s different. You’re worth it." She kissed my neck. "They’re just corrupt bastards who need to be taken down a peg."
Fair distinction.
A notification buzzed on my phone. I glanced at it.
Emi: Can’t sleep! Too excited for tomorrow! Are you excited??? (??????)
Natalia saw it too. Her expression shifted, the warmth draining out. "She really likes you."
"I know."
"You’re going to break her heart."
"Maybe. Or maybe she becos sothing more. A true believer. Soone who chooses us with full knowledge of what we’re building."
"That’s optimistic."
I typed back a response. Excited and nervous. Big day tomorrow. Get so rest, Emi. You earned your spot.
Sent.
Natalia watched , her face unreadable. "Do you actually like her? Or is she just another quest objective?"
The question was a trap. We both knew it.
"I like that she’s genuine. Sweet. Uncomplicated." I t her eyes. "But she’s not you. No one is you."
"Smooth."
"True." I pulled her down beside
on the bed. "You’re my Keystone, Natalia. The foundation of everything I’m building. Emi is... potential. A maybe. But you’re a certainty."
She softened, curling against my side. "You’re getting better at this whole ’reassuring your psychotic girlfriend’ thing."
"Practice makes perfect."
We lay there in comfortable silence. Outside, New Vein City glittered in the darkness, a million lights hiding a million secrets.
"Satori?"
"Mm?"
"When we win. When we’re standing at the top and everyone who underestimated us is looking up from the dirt..." She traced idle patterns on my chest. "What do you actually want? Power? Fa? Revenge?"
Good question.
What did I want?
Kaelen Leone had wanted survival. Then respect. Then fear.
The original Satori had wanted... what? To not be invisible anymore?
And this version, this chira?
"I want autonomy." The word felt right. "I want to be strong enough that no one, not the VHC, not the gods, not fate itself, can force
into a role I didn’t choose. I want to write my own story, not dance to soone else’s script."
"Even if that script cos from literal gods?"
I thought of Nel. Apollo. The Audience.
"Especially then."
Natalia smiled. "Good answer." She yawned, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up. "Wake
up at five. We should leave early, beat the rush to the ferry terminal."
"Bossy."
"You like it."
"Unfortunately."
She was asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.
The pieces were starting to co together. The VHC’s interest in my father. My mother’s warnings. The monitoring bracelet. The suspicious timing of my viral mont. Seraphina Vance’s cryptic comnts at the Gala.
They knew sothing about .
Or they suspected.
Either way, I was being watched. Studied. Used.
And the worst part? I didn’t even know what I was yet. The System, the Gacha, the reincarnation, all of it was opaque. Nel gave
just enough to operate, never the full picture.
I was a weapon that didn’t know its own caliber.
[Brooding so loud I can hear it from here,] Nel whispered in my mind. [Getting cold feet, Protagonist?]
Just thinking.
[Questions lead to existential dread. Existential dread is terrible for ratings.]
Why now? I asked. Why make my story go viral right when Veronica Cabana is trying to expose the VHC? If Seraphina wanted
suppressed, she could’ve just... not invited
to the Gala. Not let
test. Made
disappear quietly.
[Maybe she can’t,] Nel said, and there was sothing almost thoughtful in her tone. [You’re not the only one playing a ga with incomplete information, Satori. Even gods have rules. Even Presidents have leashes.]
What does that an?
[It ans you’re more interesting than you realize. And interest, in this world, is both a blessing and a curse.]
Before I could press further, Nel went silent.
Typical.
I looked down at Natalia, my beautiful, ambitious, psychotic queen. She’d followed
into Hell without hesitation. Was ready to go to war with forces that could erase us both.
And tomorrow, we’d step onto that island and start building an empire from the scraps.
Bartholow finished his lettuce, leaving a glistening trail across a decorative rock.
"At least soone’s having a simple night," I muttered.
The snail, immortal and utterly unbothered by the cosmic drama surrounding its existence, began its slow journey toward a piece of cucumber.
Lucky bastard.
I checked my phone one last ti.
Emi had sent a goodnight ssage. A photo of her stuffed bear wearing a tiny NVA uniform she’d apparently sewn herself.
Mr. Patches is ready for the academy! See you tomorrow, Satori! ??
Natalia stirred in her sleep, mumbling sothing that sounded like my na.
I closed my eyes and let the MYSTICISM trait work its magic, feeling the exhaustion drain away as my body repaired itself at supernatural speed.
Six hours until we left.
Five hours and fifty-nine minutes until Natalia woke up and demanded we go another round before the "dry spell" of dorm life began.
I set a ntal tir.
Smiled.
And let the King of the Glass House enjoy his last night of privacy.
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