You know what? I wasn't really the waiting-around kind of person. Why was I lying there pretending to be asleep while someone crept across my room to murder me? That seemed stupid. A waste of everyone's time, really, but especially mine.

  I should just shoot him now and get it over with, I thought.

  Although... maybe I was jumping the gun. I mean, technically, he hadn’t done anything yet. He was just walking toward my bed in the middle of the night. That wasn’t proof of intent. Maybe he was just checking in to see if I was alright.

  But also? He was already in stabbing range. So maybe preemptive murder was the smarter move. It wouldn’t be me being paranoid or impulsive, just innocent risk mitigation.

  Yes. That made sense.

  My hand tightened on the revolver under the blanket.

  The footsteps came closer.

  Then—thud—a stumble, a curse, and Phisto's outraged yowl.

  "Motherfucker!" Phisto hissed.

  I "woke up." Sat up in bed, blinking like I'd been startled out of a deep sleep. My hand stayed wrapped around the grip of the hidden revolver, finger on the trigger.

  "What are you doing in my room?" I asked.

  Chrestos stood at the foot of my bed, silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. The friendly smile was gone. His face was blank and cold.

  "I have a message," he said, "from Menekrates."

  Shame on me for not shooting him in the face like a normal person. Shame on me for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Once again, my famously gentle and trusting nature had proven to be my greatest flaw.

  He took a step closer. There was a knife in his hand now. Short blade. I guess he hadn’t expected me to wake up.

  "The Archon sends his regards," he said. "You won't make it to Silesia."

  My eyes flicked to the revolver on the bedside table. The obvious one. The one I'd left there on purpose. Chrestos saw me looking and smirked.

  Smirked.

  Did he just—did this guy actually just smirk at me? Like one of those overconfident idiots in the old plays who monologues about their evil plan right before they get stabbed? Was that what this was?

  Who smirks while delivering a death threat?

  "You won't reach that in time," he said, still smirking, nodding toward the revolver.

  I stared at him. "I disagree."

  He paused and blinked. "...What?"

  "I disagree. With your assessment. I think I'll be fine, actually."

  His smirk faltered. "That's not—you don't get to disagree."

  "Sure I do. I'm disagreeing right now. Watch." I cocked my head. "I disagree."

  He stepped forward, knife raised. "You think this is funny? You're about to—"

  I activated [Clean Entry].

  The mana drained out of me in a rush, a cold hollow ache that left me breathless. The revolver under the blanket hummed, light bleeding through the fabric in thin white lines.

  I pulled the trigger and the flash lit up the room. For half a second, everything was white. When it faded, Chrestos's head was gone. Just like Menandros’s head had been gone.

  His body stood there for a moment, knife still raised, like it hadn't gotten the message yet. Then it folded, collapsing onto itself, and hit the floor with a wet, heavy thud.

  [You have gained 1 level.]

  [You have gained 1 skill point.]

  [You have gained 3 stat points.]

  I sat there, hand still under the blanket (which now had a hole in it), revolver still gripped tight.

  Phisto hopped back onto the bed and peered over the edge at the body. "That was loud."

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  "Yeah."

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  "You sure? You look a little—"

  Footsteps were approaching fast.

  The door burst open.

  Ailomisos came in first, hand on his sword. Pammon was right behind him, eyes wide, breathing hard. They both froze the second they saw the body.

  No head. Just a corpse slumped on the floor, blood pooling on the wooden planks.

  Ailomisos's hand stayed on his sword. His eyes flicked from the body to me. Then back to the body. Then to me again.

  I didn't move. Just sat there in bed, hand still under the blanket, looking at them.

  Pammon's mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there gawking at me with his mouth open.

  Ailomisos's jaw tightened. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it.

  I waited. What should I say here? I could explain. Tell them Chrestos was paid by Menekrates, that it was self-defense, that I'm not a threat to them specifically. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

  But also... they were terrified. I could see it in Pammon's face, in the way Ailomisos's hand was frozen on his sword hilt like he couldn't decide whether drawing it would help or just make things worse for him.

  They thought I was dangerous. Maybe I should let them keep thinking that.

  Actually, you know what? They were escorting me to my death. Even if they weren't actively trying to kill me, they were still walking me to a country that would do it for them. That made them part of the problem.

  And I was tired. So, so tired. Tired of walking. Tired of people trying to kill me. Tired of having to justify my existence. Tired of being polite. Gods, it was exhausting to always be as polite as I was. I was practically a beacon of restraint. The way I held back? I inspired even myself.

  I couldn’t think of anything clever or cool to say in the moment, so I just said, "He tried to kill me first. Now he doesn’t have a head. You two want to try as well, or can I get some fucking sleep?"

  Okay that actually sounded pretty cool.

  Pammon took a step back. Just one. His hand was shaking.

  Ailomisos didn't step back, but he didn't step forward either.

  I looked at him. Then at Pammon. Then back to Ailomisos.

  "Three seconds," I said, taking a page out of my mother’s book. "Then I assume you're also here to kill me."

  Pammon's eyes widened. "We're not—"

  "Three."

  Pammon grabbed Ailomisos's arm. "We should go. Now."

  "Two."

  Ailomisos looked at me, and I saw the calculation happening behind his eyes. "We're leaving," he said, voice tight. He didn't take his eyes off me. "Right now. We're leaving."

  He bent down, grabbed Chrestos by the arm, and started dragging the body toward the door. Pammon scrambled to grab the other arm.

  "Good choice," I said.

  They hauled the corpse out into the hallway. I heard it thump against the doorframe. Heard Ailomisos curse under his breath. Heard the scrape of dead weight being dragged across wood.

  The door slammed shut and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then I heard them talking, muffled through the walls. "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—"

  "Shut up."

  "She just—did you see that? She was still in bed, she just—"

  "I said shut up."

  "We have to leave. We have to leave right now—"

  "We're not leaving."

  "Are you insane? She'll kill us! Did you see what she did to Chrestos?"

  "We drop her at the border. We get paid. We forget this happened."

  "I don't want the money! I want to live!"

  Their voices faded as they moved down the hall.

  I let out a long breath and finally let go of the revolver. My hand ached. I'd been gripping it so hard my fingers had gone numb.

  Phisto padded up beside me and sat down, tail curling around him. "You were pretty cool back there."

  "Yeah?"

  "I mean really cold. Like, genuinely scary."

  "Thanks. I just did what my mother did."

  "I'm not complimenting you. I'm just observing." He licked a paw. "You didn't even flinch."

  "I flinched on the inside."

  "Oh really? Couldn’t tell."

  I rubbed my face with both hands. My heart was pounding, the adrenaline catching up all at once. My hands started shaking. I slid off the bed and crouched down, pulling my satchel toward me. My hands were still shaking as I dug through it, searching for Perry's bundle.

  I pulled it out and unwrapped it slowly. The charm sat heavy in my palm. And beneath it, folded carefully, was the note.

  I sat back against the bed, and unfolded the paper.

  Perry's handwriting stared back at me.

  Hec,

  If you're reading this, I'm already dead. (Sorry, always wanted to say that.)

  I know what you're thinking. That this is your fault. That if you'd kept your mouth shut, or not picked that class, or not shot Menandros, I'd still be here. You're wrong.

  You didn't make Menandros a bully. You didn't make him corner us on that hill. You didn't make him beat me. You saved my life that day, even if it only bought me a few more hours. I got to say goodbye to my parents thanks to you.

  You're going to want revenge. I know you. You're already planning how you'll kill Menekrates. Good. He deserves it. But don't die trying. Promise me.

  You're probably going to get exiled. Most likely to Silesia, since that's basically a death sentence for you. It's going to be awful. You're going to want to give up. Don't. Even when you're being an idiot (which is often), you somehow make it work.

  Some advice, since I won't be there to give it:

  - Trust your instincts, but not your impulses. There's a difference.

  - You can't shoot every problem.

  - Make allies. I know you think you don't need anyone, but you do.

  - Don't forget to reload.

  The charm I gave you isn't from a minotaur. You were right—it's a cow horn. But I told my mom it was from a minotaur, and she believed me, and now I can't take it back. So just... keep the story going, yeah?

  I don't blame you, Hec. I never did. You're my best friend. You were always my best friend.

  Come back when you're strong enough. Make him pay. Make it flashy.

  —Perry

  P.S. If you get yourself killed doing something stupid, I'm going to be so mad at you.

  I read it twice. Then a third time. Then the tears came.

  I pressed the note against my chest and curled forward, shoulders shaking, trying to keep quiet. The sobs tore out of me anyway, raw and ugly and too loud.

  Phisto didn't say anything. He just pressed against my side.

  I don't know how long I sat there. Long enough for the tears to stop. Long enough for my breathing to even out. Long enough for the grief to settle back into that hollow ache I'd been carrying since the trial.

  I folded the note carefully and tucked it back into the bundle. I put the charm around my neck. Then I stood, wiped my face, and climbed back into bed. Phisto curled up beside me.

  "Alright, Perry," I whispered into the dark. "Flashy it is."

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