For the past week, I've been the hero of the campus. I nearly destroyed myself to save a dozen classmates, and everyone is very impressed by my power and my selflessness. They're not overly concerned by the fact that the only reason anyone was in danger was because they were close to me. Also, it really seems symbolic to everyone that the entire city is brightly lit now. Instead of twinkling stars overhead and a dim, suffusing glow over everything, Skyside District now feels like it's under perpetual sunlight, a bland off-white sky far overhead.

  Like I had defeated the endless nighttime. Symbolic.

  I have been getting cheery faces everywhere I go, and people seem to be getting very comfortable getting close to me, even touching me. I'm in a tough spot here- I keep having people clap me on the shoulder or hook me at the elbow, sometimes from the side or from behind, and I'm still shaking through the panicked aftereffects of multiple attempts on my life.

  So over and over there's these moments where I'm being attacked by surprise! except that it's some grinning freshman that wants to say how proud he is blah blah. Or I'll be walking a hallway when I get ambushed!! but it's a giddy gal who really appreciates blah blah blah.

  And I'm getting worse and worse at pretending it's okay for them to do that. But they're all lost in their hero-worship, there's no way for me to chastise them about this without it coming off really harshly. I don't want to rebuke them when all they have is the most innocent of intentions, but I'm gonna have to do something! Eventually I'm gonna snap and it's gonna be really harsh and really hurtful. Or, I might get caught a little too surprised and I might swing on some fool before I realize this isn't an assassination.

  All of this just leaves me standing stranded in one-sided conversations with a strained and pained grimace on my face as I try to smile through the growing stress.

  Which is why I've started avoiding high-traffic areas. I'm comfortable with attention, mind you. I've been raised in social settings, high-profile family. Before they were a money-earning livelihood, my skills and talents were a conversation piece. But I prefer the sort of attention that isn't so fawning and earnest. It keeps making me feel like I'm just getting set up to disappoint these people when I finally slip up.

  Traveling quietly is harder than you would think. I would try to just use portals because they don't cross the space, so it should limit my exposure, right? Took me almost no time to find out how wrong I was. Those things are very attention-getting, and I'm just a little too polite, a little too much of a people-pleaser, to just vanish out when someone notices me and calls out for me to wait.

  Teleporting away when someone's calling me feels like letting an elevator door close in someone's face.

  You'd think having wild one-of-a-kind OP magic abilities would be an easy fix for ordinary problems like "go to math class without attracting attention", but it just ain't so. Sometimes it feels like my magic is only good for the very utilitarian things like clothing and cleaning. But sometimes it feels like unless I want something exploded I'm just no better off than anyone else.

  And these are where my thoughts were when I came walking around the backside of the Geography building so I could take the garden path to the Student Center instead of the quad trail.

  The back door opened just twenty feet in front of me and I startled stock-still like a deer in headlights, already dreading a social interaction. But the two people who came out the back door did not even notice I was there.

  Which... okay, the white-skinned white-haired woman wearing an ecru gown next to a marble wall under sharp white lighting... sure, maybe I blended in some. I don't intentionally camouflage myself, but for every pattern of coloration there's an environment it blends into.

  "And has her advice changed any?" he was asking her. Two people. Both familiar.

  "Only a bit," she was saying. "If the rumors die down just a bit, then the pressure will be off and we can be seen in public together."

  "It is only regrettable that we are both held to other people's standards, but that is the price of station," he said, and shut the door behind her.

  "And you can help, yes?" she was saying. "To get these vile gossips to leave me alone?"

  "Nothing easier," he assured her with a smile. "My sister is the leader of that coterie. If she takes a gentler tone, the harpies will fall in line."

  She shuddered. "Your sister though! She gives me shudders, and I'm sorry to say it. Not only the violent temper and the unchecked power, or how easily she demonstrates a casual cruelty. But the way she looks at everyone, it is like she has already dissected me and alphabetized my secrets. Will she really help us?"

  He shrugged his broad shoulders in his woolen coat. They were far now, but I had channeled the owl's essence to my senses, and owls can hear a mouse sweating at fifty paces. Nathan smiled at her. "I just have to sell it the right way. Any time I mention the past she gets maudlin, sentimental. She worships the ground I walk on, she always has. So if I just mention the harm that rumors can do and talk about the good old days, she'll swan about for a week full of fluffy harmless thoughts."

  "Funny to think that someone so vicious and frightening is so easily tamed," Princess Lachel Freckentop said, with a nervous laugh.

  "She's easy to sort out. She just assumes everyone is as transparent and barefaced as she is," Nathan reassured her.

  One time, I woke up out of a coma and I was in such a rage that I killed dozens of men and burned down their workplace before I stopped to catch my breath. And I have never in my life been as pissed off as I am right now.

  I was ten minutes late getting to the dining hall for lunch, and my voice was hoarse. I had opened a void, stepped into it, closed the door behind me, and screamed my rage out until I felt like the boil-over pressure was gone. I did not want to purge all my anger. I needed it. I was going to hold that heat close to me, it was going to be my new best friend.

  Nothing was fair. I had just gotten past some crazy teacher trying to murder me in my sleep! I've nearly died twice! I've had to do things that I still think were probably impossible, and I'm not even halfway through the fallout. I deserve a fucking break. And instead, I find out that my brother

  my noble, honorable, virtuous, stalwart, courageous, principled brother

  has been gloating about how easily he manipulates me. How effortlessly I dance to his tune. That he has no compunctions about using our relationship as leverage against me. He considers my affection and adoration for him to be a lever he can pull.

  I had screamed myself hoarse.

  He's classed as a spy. His specialty is deception and misdirection. It's the foundation of his character build.

  I have played as a spy, and it's a really hard run. The only way to get through it is by mercilessly abusing the most OP skills available. Crafts, Knack, Luck, and most especially Deception.

  So why did it just not ever occur to me that he would be doing the same thing? Why did I assume that he was going to trust me the way I trust him? After all, I'm the creepy sister that knows too much, says too little, and murders dozens of people at a time. It'd be crazy for him to go through his life treating me like normal family. He's probably been watching me out of the corner of his eye for as long as he can remember.

  Fine. I'm dangerous and secretive. Fine. The reason he's never ever pushed me too hard about my secrets was that he's been living in fear of me for years. That's not like he's never really been a brother to me.

  I've spent years agonizing over the fact that I'm going to have to betray him. It's all gone now. I'm left with a clear sharp purpose that glitters like a knife. He betrayed me first.

  I walked into the student center dining hall. The line was long, and I was late, and I just did not have the patience for this. One plate lifted itself off the stack at the head of the line and flung itself through the air like a frisbee, and a silver fork loaded a pair of drumsticks and a serving of salad. I ignored people staring at the back of my head as I walked calmly over to my table, the plate floating along to catch up and then set itself at my spot.

  Elica, Rinnie, Yheta, Vancy and Larianne stared at me. I know my face always tells on itself. I can never hide an emotion, especially from card-players. That's fine. They were all staring at me like I was a hand-grenade chandelier in a high wind. That's fine. I think that they can tell approximately how angry I am right now.

  I pinched my skirt, sat down, and smoothed it over my lap. My fork hovered in the air, waiting for me to take it in my hand. I smoothed back my hair, and rearranged my combs. "Hello," I said, rasping slightly. "Our new highest priority is Princess Lachelle Freckentop. We are going to be switching methods. She needs to think that the rumors are fading and that we have backed off. We need to absolutely ruin her, using some other method, and not traced back to us at all. I'm opening the floor to suggestions."

  "Sabotage, make it look like an accident," Larianne said first.

  "Someone like that, all they have is their reputation and their money," Elica said. "If we can't hit her reputation, let's take her money."

  Vancy tapped her chin. "If you think that direct violence would get traced back to you, have a fall guy in a frame before you start."

  Yheta pursed his lips. "Uncle says that it's easier to put people in situations where you know something is going to happen, than to make it happen yourself."

  "Good start," I said. "Vancy, I'm surprised you jumped in so quickly."

  She shrugged. "The Freckentop family is poison. I'd be more sympathetic to most people."

  Elica was practically licking her lips. "Well, Lady Harigold, I simply must know what it is that has prompted your change of heart. You've been asking me to be patient and play the long game but-"

  I slashed my hand. "Patience is not the watchword any longer. This is revenge now. And the world knows how I feel about revenge."

  Larianne fanned her nails. "For occasions like this, Papa Septimus tells us to work backwards. Find the weapon that you have that your target does not know you have. Then use that weapon. A perfect surprise they will never be able to trace."

  I started mentally composing notes. Josse, Thumper, Krasp. "I'm developing a plan," I said. I pluck the fork and knife out of the air and start cutting forkfuls of dressed crisp-seared chicken off the bone. "It's not as satisfying as just pulverizing her puny skull but it's more pragmatic."

  I glared across the cafeteria at the princess. She's sitting with several of her own friends, while Nathan is busy in a close, intense conference with Filly Coltorn on the other side of the dining hall. She's gotten herself back into good graces over the past couple of weeks, while Elica and I were being "patient".

  Yheta was grinning hugely. "I've only seen this side of you a few times, and it's always splendid to see," he gushed. "By the way, you're supposed to lift the drumstick and eat it with your hands."

  "I want to cut something," I retorted, brandishing my dinner knife, smeared with chicken grease. "Now, I know we all planned on visiting Wanfarrun to see Elica's hometown this weekend, but I don't think this is a good time for me to spend a whole day away. I've promised one of my professors that I would meet a doctor because I'm crazy. It was his price for helping earlier this week, and I don't like unpaid debts. Also, Captain Maspers has asked me to stop by his office."

  "You were so much more secretive before you had to fight your sorcery instructor," Elica snarked.

  I shrugged. "Recent events ensure that I want to have someone aware of where I am at most times, or at all times. A smarter killer would have had me disappear without a trace. Braux acted like she wanted credit for the kill."

  The magister's college was founded to stop monsters like you!

  Hmm. Maybe she really did want credit. Maybe she was sure that after I was dead she would be exonerated entirely. That's a horrifying thought. Put this together: The woman who knows more about my situation than I do, seemed to be convinced that if she killed me nobody would mind. What did she know?!

  Larianne swirled her glass. "You said you're working on a plan. Do you wanna share? I'll confess to curiosity."

  "There's details still getting worked out in my mind," I said. "I have a rough shape, and it takes from all of your suggestions. I'm going to check a few things over the weekend, I don't want to say anything right now, because I'm leaving room for this to be a terrible and stupid idea that I don't want to own up to after the fact."

  Elica rolled her eyes. "Why do people keep accusing you of being secretive?" she sarcasmed sarcastically.

  "Because I have a sharp and distinct understanding of the vast gulf in between the information that people need to know and the information that they idly consider that they may just possibly desire to know," I rasped, the scored hoarseness coming back.

  I took a deep breath, and I looked around. I caught eyes every direction I turned. And they were looking at me like I was a hero. The hero. Saver of lives, savior of the day. That's me they're seeing. And that-

  When people look at me like a hero, I don't plan how to use them.

  Maybe, I said to myself, Nathan doesn't need to be the hero this time. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be the hero.

  Maybe I've wasted years of my life sitting by waiting for him to live up to my expectations. Madame Cushnere mentioned years ago that she wished I'd put myself in front more often. That I tucked myself behind him too much.

  At the time I scoffed. I said I wasn't going to invent feminism in this world that wasn't ready for it. Back then, a small child, it seemed ridiculous that I could try to change the world, that I could challenge the culture. Sure, I intended to do exactly that, But back then, I just couldn't see the way. It felt so big and impossible. At a few years old I was aware of limitations. Kids are born with questions and raised to understand the answer is almost always no.

  But I'm killing monsters. Planning expeditions. Gathering sorcery powers. Top of my class. Famous. Feared. I'm being headhunted by several major houses to play a major role in their political coup. I've been rewriting music, culture, the arts, and the oral tradition of history. I'm able to fight and kill a fully-equipped high-circle magister after I've been boxed into a trap. I'm definitely in a position to start pushing people around.

  Only if I stop pretending to be too meek to go for it.

  Only if I stop acting like I'm not allowed to be a main character.

  Vancy's brows knitted. "Is your voice alright? Are you coming down with something?"

  "I don't think it would be possible for me to catch a cold, I'm being renovated by a healer at least twice a week," I complained. "The way I get injured, an upper-respiratory infection would be a welcome switch. But yes, I'm fine. I just had to indulge in a little scream therapy."

  "I like it," Larianne said. "Husky."

  "Thanks," I said.

  I can't be a sidekick. That's not my role. He's already got one or two of those, and I'm just not a good fit. Besides, how can I be a sidekick if I am smarter, stronger, more well-connected, more well-dressed, more influential and more dangerous than him? That's not an ally. But I have, piece by piece, turned myself into a devastating [ Rival ].

  "Bah," I blurted, shaking myself out of a fugue of a funk. "I've been so caught up in my own shit lately. What have the rest of you been up to while I've been messing with magic and assassins and building collapses?"

  As it turned out, rather a lot, thanks for asking! Vancy was still occupied most days with her social calendar, there were over a dozen social clubs on campus and I think she was considered a member-in-good-standing for each of them. She had a lot of thoughts about balancing and prioritizing which gathering for which group, based on membership, timing, guest list, decor, music, theme, and refreshments. Elica was doing the hard work of being an earl, which seemed to largely consist of overseeing her staff as they went about their duties. Rinnie, as the only member of Elica's staff, was slowly being run ragged but she was surprisingly (or even suspiciously?) uncomplaining. Larianne was vague and cagey enough that I'm sure she's either secretly part of a cult or a bunny-petting club she was hiding from us. Yheta was vague and cagey too, but it didn't come to him as naturally as it did to Larianne, and the take-away there was that he was taking over more and more of the administration of his uncle's businesses, as well as "watchfully curating the legacies of the Snairlin family", by which he means butting in every time that Filly and Nathan were in the same room.

  And of course the big news across the board was that the first round of school rankings were about to be announced for the year. This was a big deal for almost everyone, but especially the freshmen who didn't have any numbers to relate other than their entry tests. Everyone seemed extremely concerned about it, like this was a big deal. I found it easy to set that aside, my competitive instincts have been expressed entirely in camogie. Now that we're playing against other teams I can let that energy out, and it feels good. However the rest of the school was all on the edges of their seats waiting for the grade calculations to come in and tell them all who placed in what order.

  I don't know if this is a cultural carryover from the most popular VN games or just a trope of the genre in general. But for some reason every academy game seems to have rankings and they're always very important for nebulous reasons.

  Elica had scoffed, "But of course our Lady Natalie has said she's already confident of the top spot for our year."

  Yheta did not look nearly as amused or flippant. "I for one am just very glad that the scores are tallied by year, and I won't be asked to share a ranking board with her. I got lucky that time."

  She paused. "Really?"

  He seemed amused or confused. They look a lot alike on his face. "Yes? Natalie's a bona fide genius of the highest order."

  "You're too kind," I said modestly. "But also entirely accurate."

  Rinnie scoffed. "Really? That smart?"

  Yheta rolled his eyes then turned to me. "Natalie, what is ... twenty-seven plus forty-eight... ?"

  I could hear his voice clearly, but his lips seemed to be moving through rather a lot more words. I think this is the verbal version of the way the game translates academic problems to simpler forms for me.

  "Um... seventy five," I said after a second. But my voice seemed to be running a good several seconds longer, as if my answer needed a lot more to say. From the looks on their faces, whatever math problem Yheta had actually posed to me was really impressive to solve in your head after a couple seconds. I couldn't really hear myself, since I could only hear the simplified version of what was going on. But I could still tell that my voice was unpleasantly raspy, heard from outside myself.

  Vancy looked horrified. So did Elica.

  "You could have been tutoring me all this time," Vancy moaned.

  Elica looked queasy. "That sort of math does not have practical applications, does it?"

  "Only for engineering, machining, architecture, astronomy, economics, physics and logistics," I assured her.

  "You haven't been bringing that math into our shared room, have you?" Ah yes. Her weirdly inflexible ideas about what is ladylike.

  "Only while you're asleep," I assured her with a smile.

  She shuddered in revulsion. "I would ask that in the future you refrain," she said delicately. "I find this distasteful. Let's go back to destroying that uppity princess."

  I'm not sure an earl is allowed to call a royal princess 'uppity', but Elica makes her own rules.