Chapter 5: The Art of Breaking and Entering

It takes another sixteen hours of driving to reach Floral City.

Between butchering roadside bandits and stopping every few hours so Arlo—my fragile, high-maintenance boss—doesn't literally die of exhaustion, the trip is agonizingly slow.

But finally, we arrive. The Mythos Academy stands before us, towering and majestic. It screams power, prestige, and money.

There's just one tiny problem. We are locked out.

"I'm sorry," the security guard says, his voice flat. "Enrollment ended yesterday. The Academy does not accept late entries. Come back next year."

Beside me, Arlo sways on his feet. His face drains of what little color it had. "Next...year?" he whispers, his voice trembling. "I...I won't last that long."

He looks like he's about to faint.

"It's my fault," Arlo mumbles, clutching his chest. "If we hadn't stopped so often for me to rest...we would have made it."

I ignore his self-pity party. Technically, we were late because I took a detour to hunt a C-Rank Zerg for extra cash. But why dwell on details? Self-reflection is for people who make mistakes. I don't make mistakes, I make business decisions.

The real problem here isn't my greed. It's the Academy's inefficiency. Who closes enrollment after just three days? That's bad customer service.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the massive, impenetrable gates. I hate waiting. And I promised Arlo I would get him inside.

"Rule Number Two of the Assassin's Code," I mutter to myself. "Integrity and Efficiency."

I turn to the battered SUV we "borrowed" from the bandits. I bow my head solemnly. "Rest in peace, old friend. Amen. Amitabha."

Then, I turn to Arlo. "Buckle up, Darling. I always deliver."

"Wait, what are you—"

I slam my foot on the gas.

The engine roars like a dying beast. The security guard screams something unintelligible. Arlo's eyes go wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream of horror.

CRASH!

Metal screeches against metal. The SUV slams into the celestial gates with the force of a wrecking ball. The hood crumples like paper, steam hissing from the engine. The gates...don't budge. Not even an inch.

But the alarm system? Oh, that works perfectly. Sirens blare across the entire campus. Red lights flash.

"Oh my god," Arlo wheezes, clutching the dashboard. "How...how am I supposed to pay for this? I could sell my entire inheritance and I wouldn't be able to afford a scratch on these gates!"

I unbuckle my seatbelt, checking my hair in the rearview mirror. Perfect. "Relax," I say calmly. "This was a calculated risk. It's the most efficient way to get management's attention. Besides, if one of us awakens as a 100% Purity Awakener, they won't charge us a dime."

Arlo stares at me, horrified. "Is...is that a rule? Has anyone ever crashed a car into the Academy before?"

"Probably not," I shrug. "But I've decided it's a rule now."

"......"

Moments later, the gates open. Not because we broke them, but because someone important has arrived.

A woman steps out, surrounded by nervous security guards. She is tall, elegant, wearing a black dress that looks like it was woven from shadows. A beauty mark sits perfectly near her lip, and she wears thin, silver-rimmed glasses. Dean Lilith Nox. The Goddess of Night. One of the Twelve Supreme Seats.

She looks down at our wrecked car, then at us. "So," she says, her voice smooth and dangerous. "This is your method of knocking?"

I flash her a bright, innocent smile, showing off eight perfect white teeth. "It wasn't an attack, Dean. It was a marketing strategy to grab your attention."

Dean Nox raises a thin eyebrow. "Marketing?"

"Enrollment is closed," I explain. "But I am confident I can Awaken. Why let a silly thing like a deadline deprives you of a genius student? I would be honored to join your class."

Dean Nox taps her riding crop against her palm. Tap. Tap. "You want to join my class? You have quite the imagination, little girl."

"Thank you for the compliment."

Dean Nox's lips twitch. She looks me up and down, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. "You're interesting. Most people can barely look me in the eye, let alone crack jokes. Very well. Follow me." She turns on her heel. "If you fail the Awakening test, however, I'm sending you straight to prison for destruction of property."

"Deal," I say cheerfully.

Arlo looks like he's going to throw up. He tries to grab my sleeve for comfort, remembers I hate being touched, and pulls his hand back. He scampers to keep up with my stride.

"Prison?" he hisses in my ear. "Rea, what if we fail? I can't go to prison! I'm too pretty for prison!"

I glance at him. "Don't worry."

"My life is over," he moans. "I'm going to die in a cell."

"Darling, relax," I comfort him, patting his shoulder. "If we fail, we just break out. I'm a professional at prison breaks."

Arlo chokes. "...Prison breaks? Is there anything illegal you aren't a professional at?"

Dean Nox coughs loudly from the front, reminding us she has super-hearing. Arlo shuts up instantly.

We walk down a long, white corridor. The walls are pristine, reflecting our silhouettes like mirrors. I glance at Arlo's reflection. He looks...different.

"You're getting prettier," I observe bluntly.

Arlo touches his cheek, surprised. "I am?"

He was always handsome, but now? He's glowing. His skin is like porcelain, his eyelashes impossibly long. He has evolved from "rich boy cute" to "dangerously ethereal." He is taller than me, but his frame is slender, fragile.

This kind of sudden beauty enhancement usually means one thing in the Awakening world: Charm-based abilities. Succubus. Narcissus. Siren.

I look at him with genuine pity.

Poor kid. Awakening as a walking love potion in a world full of monsters? That is the start of a tragic, X-rated backstory.

But hey, not my problem. My job ends the moment he gets enrolled.

I check my bank account on my phone. The balance makes me grin. Money is so cute. No matter where I go, cash is the only thing that makes me feel safe.

The hallway is busy. Students and teachers stop to bow as Dean Nox passes. The depth of their bow seems to depend on the rank of the badge on their chest.

"The Academy doesn't use outside currency," Arlo whispers, noticing my interest. "They use Points. New students get a starter fund, but after that, you have to earn Points through missions or grades. There are six ranks, 0 to 6. Higher rank means more privileges."

A passing teacher chuckles. "You know a lot, kid."

Word of our "explosive entry" has apparently spread. A small crowd of teachers is following us, curious to see the lunatics who rammed the gate.

"I've always wanted to join," Arlo says politely, flashing a shy, dazzling smile. "I did my research."

"Good," Dean Nox says, stopping in front of a massive set of double doors. "Then I don't need to explain the test. First, we trigger your survival instincts. Then, the Machine."

She is about to signal the guards to open the doors, but she pauses.

The chatter in the hallway has died down instantly. The air feels heavier, colder. The crowd of students naturally parts to the sides, lowering their heads in respect.

From the opposite end of the corridor, a figure approaches.

A young man in a pristine silver-white uniform that glows with a faint, holy light.

Raphael Sterling.

He walks with a precise, measured rhythm, his expression unreadable. He stops when he sees us, his silver eyes sweeping over the group.

"Dean Nox," he nods curtly, his voice cool and polite.

"Raphael," Dean Nox adjusts her glasses, her tone equally professional. "Checking on the purification serum progress?"

"Ongoing," Raphael replies. His words are few, his expression stoic. He glances at us. "It isn't enrollment day. Why are there new students?"

"They crashed a car into my gate," Dean Nox says dryly. "If I hadn't come out, they probably would have driven into my office."

I put on my best innocent face. Who, me?

Raphael's silver eyes narrow slightly. So that was the vibration he felt earlier. It caused him to smudge the final signature on a stack of important documents. The smudge was only two millimeters long. But for an Angel of Order, it was unacceptable. He had to burn the entire document and start over.

He stares at me for a second longer, his gaze cool and calculating. Then, he turns back to the Dean. "Make sure they pay for the gate."