I sat in the empty classroom and adjusted my tie, aiming for the perfect impression of a villain waiting for the unsuspecting hero. All I needed was a white cat to stroke while I swiveled dramatically in my chair. Unfortunately, the academy provided standard-issue furniture that didn't swivel, so I had to settle for leaning against the teacher's desk with my arms crossed.
The contract Mera and I had signed sat on the desk beside me. Four pages of legal language designed to keep Cheon quiet about what she'd witnessed. What she'd felt. What I'd done to her in that storage closet.
I checked my phone. Ten minutes since the final bell. Cheon was taking her time, probably wrestling with her conscience. Her hesitation was good.
Conflict eroded certainty, and I worked best with uncertainty.
A message from Mera lit up my screen:
She signed it. She's all yours. Don't forget to tell me EVERYTHING later.
