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Snake set it on the desk but did not slide it forward.
"Before I give you this," Snake said, "you will answer one more question."
John nodded. "Ask."
Snake’s gaze pinned him. "Why have you not asked for money."
John’s breath caught. Not because he had not expected the question. Because he had. And because the answer mattered.
"I do not want to owe you," John said. "Not like that."
Snake’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You already owe . Knowledge. Protection. Silence. Doors that open for you."
John did not deny it. "I owe you those things because I chose to beco your disciple. That is a chosen debt. If I take your money, it becos a chain debt. A debt that changes my spine."
Fizz nodded sagely. "Chains are bad for posture."
Snake stared at John for a long mont, then leaned back, amused and sharp at once.
"You refuse free resources from the most powerful man in this academy," Snake said.
John kept his voice calm. "I refuse resources that make dependent. I want permission. Not charity."
Snake’s pipe clicked softly when he picked it up again. He did not light it. He simply held it like a habit.
"Do you think I would try to own you," Snake asked, mildly.
John was careful. "I do not know what you would do in ten years. I do not know what you will beco when your patience runs out. I learned that trusting blindly is an expensive hobby."
Fizz whispered, "He ans his childhood was garbage."
John ignored him. Snake, sohow, did not.
Snake did not look offended. If anything, he looked satisfied.
"Good," Snake said. "Distrust is not ugly if it is disciplined. Many boys distrust like wild dogs. You distrust like a locked drawer. It can be opened if the key is correct."
John’s shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Snake finally slid the tal permit across the desk.
"This is a restricted exit permit," Snake said. "It will allow you to leave within defined windows, for defined purposes. It will be logged. It will be monitored by the academy systems. It will not announce itself, but it will exist. If you abuse it, it will vanish."
John picked it up with both hands.
Snake continued, voice steady. "This permit will be known only to three parties. You. Your contracted spirit. And ."
Fizz raised a paw solemnly. "I swear on my tail fluff. Which is sacred."
Snake’s eyes flicked to him. "Do not make regret this."
Fizz nodded rapidly. "Never. I regret nothing. Regret is for people who do not plan their snacks."
John tucked the permit into his inner pocket. He felt the weight of it like a promise.
Snake’s gaze sharpened again. "Your shop will bring you power in a different form. People will follow money. They will also follow their reputation. Do not beco careless because you can pay for comfort."
John nodded. "I will not."
Snake tapped the pipe lightly against the desk, as if sealing the conversation with a final punctuation mark. "You will continue your classes. You will earn your points. If you fail your sester, this permit becos ash. If you break rules again, this permit becos a problem. If you make noise with it, this permit becos everyone’s business, and I will not protect you from the consequences."
John’s voice stayed even. "Understood."
Snake studied him one last ti, then spoke with a quieter edge. "And John."
"Yes."
"You are building many doors at once," Snake said. "A shop door. A dorm door. A void door. A loyalty door. Do not forget which doors you can lock, and which doors will lock you."
John swallowed. "I will rember."
Fizz drifted closer to John’s ear and whispered, "He is giving you wisdom, but in the style of a man who hates joy."
John stood and bowed. Not deeply, not theatrically. Just enough to show respect without giving away his neck.
"Thank you," John said.
Snake waved a hand. "Go. Earn your stubborn independence. It will taste better if you sweat for it."
John turned to leave.
Fizz floated backward toward the door like a perforr exiting stage left. "Goodbye, mysterious hat. Please remain ominous. It suits you."
Snake’s gaze sharpened dangerously.
Fizz corrected himself instantly. "It suits you in a flattering way. Like a very intelligent shadow."
They stepped into the corridor. The air outside felt colder, as if Snake’s office had been a separate climate.
John walked a few paces before speaking. He did not look at the permit. He felt it in his chest, warm and heavy.
Fizz finally exploded into a sound like a kettle released from a lid. "We did it. We got the secret business pass. We are officially sneaky entrepreneurs. I will wear a tiny tie. I will hire a beautiful assistant. I will fire the assistant for eating my snacks."
John’s mouth tugged slightly. "You are already eating your own snacks."
Fizz pointed at him. "That is not the point. The point is power. We have permission power."
John kept walking, but his mind had already moved forward. The shop. The house. The forge. The people coming from the mist village. The letter that would be arriving with Edda, Gael, and two more soon enough.
The academy courtyard bustled below like a hive that did not know it was being watched.
John looked down at the students and thought, briefly, that he was doing sothing dangerous.
Not void dangerous. Life dangerous.
He was stepping out of the simple path. He was building a second path beside it, one that would cut through money, reputation, and responsibility. If he stumbled, he would not fall into mud. He would fall into consequences.
Fizz bumped his shoulder lightly. "You are thinking too hard again. That is your most consistent hobby."
John exhaled. "I am thinking about what happens if I fail."
Fizz tilted his head. "Then we get up and do not fail again. Also, if you fail, I will yell at you until you succeed out of spite."
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