Chapter 28: Coefficient of Friction

  “Things have changed, Dante. I really can’t think of a way to get past the system. We got by the Beacon just fine, but this… ”

  Dante tuned Felix out. As the clock counted down the minutes to his test, he felt like turning away from the Arena’s gates. The hat he wore to conceal his hair felt like a brick, and the sunglasses kept sliding down his nose. He swallowed the lump that had gathered in his throat and steeled himself.

  “I will head in now,” Dante said robotically.

  “I’ll wait outside then,” Felix offered.

  “I do not want you to. Leave. I do not need you to escort me back either.”

  “But how would you head hom–”

  “Leave.” Dante’s voice cut through the silence as he stepped into the darkened Arena, each footfall echoing hollowly in the rotunda of dread. He slipped off his hat and glasses and tucked them neatly into the inner pockets of his blazer. When he reached the centre of the Arena, the floodlights blazed to life one by one. Dante narrowed his eyes against the harsh beams that sliced through the shadow, then gave a silent command to his Regalia.

  Scarlet shifted into its Ocular form – the ornate, red-tinted monocle settling over his eye – making him instantly, unmistakably recognisable to the Test Administrator.

  The Test Administrator’s robotic, drawling voice came over the intercom. “Dante Alexander Higashino.”

  “Present.”

  There was a short silence before a quiet chuckle came from the speakers. It was hard to tell if the person was amused or pleasantly surprised, but Dante could picture that crooked smile stained by years of heavy smoking.

  “Long time no see, Mister Higashino,” Shun said, his voice raspier than Dante remembered. “How are you feeling?”

  Dante’s gaze flicked upward, spotting the cold, mechanical stare of Shun’s countless cameras fixed on him. The invisible pressure of their unblinking lenses pressed down like a hunter’s sightline. “Do not waste my time,” he fired back.

  “Okay, okay,” Shun said coolly.

  The Test Administrator reverted to its automated voice. “Last known status… Deceased. D-D-D-D-D-”

  The Administrator glitched out in a fit of mechanical spasms. Shun’s gruff laugh echoed throughout the Arena. “I’ll take over since the data isn’t accurate. I didn’t consider edge cases like this when I built this system. The last time you were here, you were at least something. If I remember correctly, you were a Rank 3 sorcerer? This time, you signed up specially for a Rank–”

  I signed up for a Rank 1 test standard.

  “-ZERO! Rank 0 test standard!”

  Dante narrowed his eyes at the cameras, almost sure that Shun had purposefully tinkered with the system. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” Shun asked before letting out a grating guffaw. “The last time you did the test, you indicated that you were interested in taking on a Rank 0 phantom. Did the Compound Needle Phantom prove too much for you to handle? So rattled to the point that you were content with settling? Just so you know, failing a Rank 0 test doesn’t make you a Rank 1 dog.”

  Dante bit the inside of his cheek, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He unsheathed Hollow Sparrow and gave it a whirl. A sharp whistle echoed through the Arena, dispelling any doubt that lingered.

  “Are you ready?” the Test Administrator asked as though mocking him.

  “Bring it.”

  The gates holding the Cursed Phantom burst open. Dante took one look and bared his teeth. “Strike a chord?” Shun asked.

  It was the same phantom that had cost him the coveted rank that he had been working so hard for back then. The front half of the phantom capered mockingly across the floor, its silver baton twirling in gleeful arcs. A conductor’s hat bounced precariously with every flamboyant step, its theatrics designed to draw eyes away from the other half – the masked surgeon in the shadows, the true architect of his past downfall. It was hiding away its second pair of hands with joints that clicked according to the tempo of the conductor’s feet. “I remember it being a rather interesting fight,” Shu’s voice slithered through the speakers. “Besting the first half only to be sewn up by its other. The perfect reconciliation of passion and career!”

  Shun’s trash talk was meant to get under his skin. Instead, Dante’s focus sharpened to a razor’s edge. He warped past the conductor and into the surgeon’s domain, eyes narrowing. Crimson bled at the periphery of his vision as he locked onto the surgeon’s hands.

  Hands were the most prized assets of a surgeon after all.

  Absolute Zen. Dante tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword and swung it once. “Threefold.”

  The phantom screeched as Dante hacked off a pair of its hands. The silver baton splintered into countless Squibs, needle-flinging offspring that rained down on him in a storm of fine needles that would shred lungs if inhaled. He met wave after wave with ruthless efficiency, each cleave of his sword erasing whole swarms before they could even pierce his guard.

  Phantoms soon became a blur. All that remained was the rhythm of his cuts and the red haze driving them.

  At last, Dante's blade tore through empty air, stained with Cursed Essence. The phantom’s head thudded on the floor behind him. The arena fell silent but for the echo of the first deep breath he took since he first swung his sword.

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  How mundane. Shun’s test was just a pale imitation of true Rank 0 phantoms.

  “My, my, you passed with flying colours this time,” Shun let out a low whistle. “But your fight was a lot less inspiring than before. I didn’t even see you cut down its head.”

  Locating the camera eyes above, Dante warped towards the nearest one, leaving behind a glowing scarlet afterimage of himself. He tilted the camera upwards, making sure that Shun was looking at him.

  “You don’t have to stare at me like that.”

  “I suggest that you wake up. You know very well what I want,” Dante growled. “Conceal my return from the higher-ups, lest I rip your throat out.”

  “I get it. Your rank will be subsumed under Felix’s name. He’ll be the middleman,” Shun said. “But boy, am I curious about what happens if I let sli–”

  “If you do, I am going to demonstrate how exactly I would feel.”

  “Oh-ho!” Shun seemed to relish such threats. “I wonder how Dr. Farid and Felix would feel about that!”

  Dante squeezed the camera until it crumpled up in his fist. All the knick-knacks he had marked with his Regalia at the start of the test were reduced to pulp. Metal and parts were still falling around him when he stepped back onto the floor of the Arena.

  You are torturing him! Felix’s voice broke into his mind like an unwelcome guest.

  Dante stomped on the debris repeatedly until he could no longer hear Felix’s voice. “You have no right. All of you,” he spat, a bitter taste forming in his mouth.

  Dante reached into the inside of his blazer, retrieving a slim metal vial. The cap spun off the vial and clattered onto the floor, mingling with equally silver debris. He crouched down, trying to find it, but gave up. The flask was going to be emptied anyway. He sat down on the ground, careful not to spill his drink.

  Dante’s thoughts drifted to Felix fussing over Ace. The liquid sloshed in its vial as his chest churned with feelings he wanted to spit out. He tilted his head back, intending to down everything in the vial, but he froze when he heard a familiar set of footsteps. It was much heavier than he remembered, but the intervals between each step were unmistakable. The vial slipped through his fingers and spilt all over his front. Enigma came over him in a desperate attempt to hide the mess. “I told Felix not to–”

  “He kept his promise.” Dr. Farid crossed his legs and sat down before him. Dante’s eyes darted around the ground as he was suddenly interested in the grains of sand under the soles of his shoes.

  Dr. Farid fished out a narrow slip of paper, which had the word ‘Find’ written on it. There was a gold shimmer as he imbued it with Essence before discarding it into the pile of debris. The darned cap rolled out, and Dante promptly screwed it back onto the vial.

  “How did you…”

  “I just do.”

  “Even though I never said goodbye?” Dante shrank into himself like a pillbug, unable to meet Dr. Farid’s eyes.

  “We did end on a ‘See you later’.” Dr. Farid positioned a handkerchief right where Dante’s foot was. He was just that good. Instead of wiping himself down, Dante held onto the bunched-up silk and stared at it, his body going numb.

  “Is it okay if I could see you as you are now?” Dr. Farid asked.

  Dante tried to shed Enigma, but the knot in his heart grew tighter. It bundled him up even tighter than before. “I am… trying,” he said quietly as he pivoted to face Dr. Farid. “You know what it is like.”

  Dr. Farid simply leaned forward and placed his hands on the sides of Dante’s face. The silvery hood of Enigma was slowly pulled back, and Dante saw his reflection in Dr. Farid’s eyes. “I see you have been taking good care of yourself,” Dr. Farid said with a small smile on his face. “That’s good. I am so, so proud of you.”

  Dante noticed the beads of tears that had formed at the corners of Dr. Farid’s eyes. Question after question crossed his mind. Why are you proud of me? Why are you crying? Are you truly happy to see me?

  But something in Dante told him that he need not know the answers to everything. He held onto the handkerchief and leaned into Dr. Farid’s warm touch. What are you doing?! His mind was screaming, but his body refused to obey the rationale that had been beaten into him.

  “When did you start using silk handkerchiefs?” That was all the rationality Dante could muster in the whirlwind of emotions.

  ***

  Dante kept tugging on the brim of his hat and pushed up his sunglasses. “Don’t worry, most people would have gone home by now,” Dr. Farid assured him. “Besides, this path is a secret shortcut known to a select few.”

  “Okay.”

  “While you were gone, Mo Wang became a lady of her house. She goes by Second Lady Meng now.”

  “I see.”

  Dr. Farid signalled for him to wait. He opened the door slightly to the Athenaeum and stuck his head in. “They should be here,” he whispered. “Felix likes to visit her while she’s doing work. She can go on deep into the night, that girl. I don’t even know if that office is mine anymore.”

  Dante rubbed the soles of his shoes against the floor and chewed on his lower lip. “Whenever you are ready,” Dr. Farid said.

  Dante held out his palm. He conjured three golden sparrows. One started flickering immediately, while the other two remained. “Is that book still in the same spot?” he asked Dr. Farid.

  Dr. Farid nodded. Dante let the sparrows fly. They fluttered off around the corner, wings beating in quiet unison as they struggled beneath the weight of a tome clutched between them. Mid-flight, the flickering sparrow vanished, and the burden grew too heavy. The remaining two veered, straining, before letting go. The book dropped, striking the floor with a resonant thud that carried through the hushed library.

  Then there was nothing but quiet. Dante moved his hands to extinguish the remaining sparrows.

  Dr. Farid placed a hand on Dante’s back. Don’t be too quick to leave, he beseeched his student quietly.

  Dante tensed slightly under his palm but stood in place.

  A faint commotion stirred, punctuated by the lazy slap of sandals against marble. Lady Meng emerged from behind a shelf, no doubt trying to find the source of the sound. She froze as she faced Dante for the first time in a decade. Recognition slowly crossed her blank expression as she put two and two together. Felix kept a few paces behind her but stopped short of following her beyond the shelf.

  Lady Meng drifted forward towards Dante. The bunny slippers she wore had quaint ears that shot up when she took a step forward. Dr. Farid felt Dante step back into his palm, so he nudged him forward slightly. “Is it really you?” Lady Meng whispered as she stood in front of Dante. “You’re… not a ghost, are you?”

  Dante shook his head, then nodded. “It's really you! It’s you! It’s you!” At first, there were smiles, but Lady Meng started sniffling and her lips wobbled. She threw her arms around Dante, burying her face in his chest.

  However, Dante turned his gaze toward the ground; his arms stayed by his side throughout.

  Once upon a time, three sparrows flew together. Their collective genius dazzled many, and together, they soared higher and higher. However, a storm drove them apart at the height of their fight. Dr. Farid breathed a sigh of relief as he completed the excerpt of his students’ stories. Even so, the sparrows never forgot one another. The birds fluttered through paradise, earthly ills and scorching infernos, finally finding one another ten years later.

  At long last, Dr. Farid thought and smiled to himself, the Divine Comedy is complete.