Chapter Text
The beginning of the end starts on a Thursday afternoon.
"Interesting."
"Ah, you see it too."
Two people sit in a room. The floors are bare and so are the walls. Decorative decadence it has not, but through sheer minimalism and beauty, it manages to be a room with personality, a feat reflected in its owner.
Yu Hansung sips slowly at his coffee, savoring the fake-sweet taste. He sits neatly on a cushion, long yellow sleeves trailing behind him. Above the table in front of him, a lighthouse hovers in a slow revolution. Its blue tint casts a glow on the events unfolding on the screen.
"Of course," says the boy sitting opposite him. "Who wouldn't miss an explosion of shinsu like that?"
"Many are confused," Hansung points out. On-screen, the regulars are craning their heads through the bars to catch the spectacle at the throne. The alligator bellows and leaps forward, but there is nothing left to do. The mysterious red-haired attacker is down, and in front of her lies two crumpled figures. A boy and a girl, both with head wounds, although the boy is worse off and fully unconscious now.
Khun Aguero Agnis sits opposite Hansung, his cup of tea untouched. Neither of them speak. No one in the throne room does either. The crown finally stops rolling and comes to a halt with a quiet clink .
Hansung waits. When it becomes clear that nothing further will happen, he clears his throat, and the spell of silence is broken. The lighthouse fades to black, then winks out of view.
Khun leans forward in his seat. He's only a teenager on the cusp of adulthood and hasn't yet learned the art of remaining impassive. His face is expressionless, but the way he grips his knees is telling.
Lero Ro's announcement in the throne room comes out tinny through the lighthouse's speakers.
“The ― er ― crown game is over. There is no winner. Contestants, please return to your waiting rooms and wait for further instructions. ”
Hansung sighs. "Ah, well, the crown game was only to cover for Quant's blunder in the first round. I'm glad we have no winner."
He glances at Khun. A mistake. Those bright blue eyes latch onto him, and there is a greedy shine there.
"Who is he?"
"Lucky to be alive, that's what he is."
"I didn't ask what . I asked who ."
As ever, Hansung's face will not betray him. But his back is straight as if electrified. He carefully tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, averting his eyes.
"His name is Bam," he says, feigning a nonchalance he does not feel.
"Remarkable," Khun murmurs. He taps a complicated rhythm on his knee. Sapphires flash on his fingers. He’s dressed in the fashion of royals, wealth and power dripping off even in the simplest of cloths.
"That's a lot of power for a regular,” he continues. “Especially since we're only on the second floor."
Hansung sips at his empty cup just for something to do, not daring to bring up another topic. He'll sense the diversion.
"And to think that I decided to visit out of sheer boredom," Khun says softly.
Hansung raises his eyes and looks into the face of a mountain lion, if mountain lions could be rich and beautiful and blue . He doesn’t reply, but he knows that Khun is not looking for a conversation.
"I'm going to stick around for a while, Hansung."
"You're not allowed to interfere with the regulars. Administrator's rules," Hansung says immediately. He sets down his cup onto a plate.
Khun glances up at him, grins. "Oh, I'm not going to interfere . I just want to watch and wait."
Hansung levels him with a stare. "If you promise that's all you're going to do."
"Of course. You won’t mind a few conversations here and there, will you?"
So languid, so at ease. People like him think the world was created just for their pleasure, Hansung thinks disgustedly.
"As test director, I won't allow it," he says.
It's the wrong thing to say, but Hansung feels the strands of a centuries-long plan unraveling through his fingers, and he's snatching at what he can grasp.
At least Khun looks surprised. "I didn't think test directors had such authority."
Barely, just barely, the tips of his fingers glow, and something flickers in his eyes. Almost unnoticeable. But Hansung has lived too long not to recognize the passing shadow of death.
After a few moments of silence, he concedes. Not that Hansung couldn’t take him in a battle ― ranker or not, Khun is still young.
Right now, though, it's better not to raise suspicions too fast, too soon. Evankhell hates being disturbed on normal occasions, but she sure as hell won’t appreciate rankers brawling on the test floor, and neither will FUG.
He lowers his head. Khun takes a victory sip of tea.
"Must be nice, to be Daddy's chosen," he can’t help saying.
"Takes a lot to be one." Khun smiles with teeth bared. Don't go there.
The thought of what FUG will say makes Hansung feel vaguely ill. It's not that it will derail the plan entirely. But they can't afford any more variables than they already have, and somebody's definitely going to complain. Oh, lord, that means more calls and strategies and virtual meetings.
Khun stands up. The little bastard. Bane of his life. Cause of all his troubles.
"I'll be off. Give my regards to Quant and Ro."
"Of course." Hansung is glad to see him go.
He watches as the mountain lion leaves the room, and only when the last slip of white-and-blue disappears behind the door, does he pull out a Pocket.
They're really not going to like what he's about to tell them.
Bam tries not to be self-conscious, he really does. But living all those years in a cave with only one other person for company does something to a human mind. He startles easily, doesn't know how to make small talk, and he overcompensates by smiling at everyone when they look his way. Which, he realizes, had been a mistake ever since Rak had taken it as a challenge back in the fields. At least they had a temporary truce (“until you’re strong enough for me to eat”, according to Rak), although he can’t say the same for anyone else on the test floor.
And right now, he's trying to ignore the guy with the single red horn, who keeps scrutinizing him.
Bam frowns. It's not his fault that he can create shinsu on his first try. He's not even sure what it is , exactly, but the little glowing ball of light mesmerizes him.
He tries pulling his hands apart, and the shinsu widens with the movement. The surface ripples like a calm lake, but he knows that there's a depth there that can only be imagined. He feels like if he concentrates enough, he may be able to see the secrets of the Tower, buried deep underneath the ocean contained between his hands.
If he concentrates, maybe he'll forget the squints of envy and suspicion thrown his way. The only one who's not paying him any mind is Laure, who is probably asleep.
Someone walks in at that moment, and suddenly no one's eyes are on him.
Bam turns as well, wondering what kind of importance a person must have to be able to command everyone's attention just by walking into a room.
He doesn't recognize the newcomer, but that's okay. He only knew one person in the world before this, after all.
The newcomer is a tall young man around his age. His eyes are electric blue, his hair a similar silvery quality. The way he walks strikes the perfect balance between confidence and charm. He doesn't make a sound or otherwise announce his entrance, but everyone is transfixed in silence. Bam looks up at the ceiling, wondering at the sudden draft of cold air.
Bam's fluffy instructor bounces up to the man. He almost scrapes the floor with his bow.
"Ah, good morning to you, sir. I'd heard that you arrived on the second floor yesterday. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"One of your students," he replies, his eyes roving around the room. His voice has a nice, smooth timbre. Bam wouldn’t mind listening to hour-long lectures if he was the one who taught them.
Not the time , Bam thinks. He shakes himself out of it and stands at attention, just like every wave-controller is doing, even Laure, who is wide awake.
"Ah. You there," the newcomer says, pointing.
At Bam.
Crap, what now? He freezes up and instinctively shoots a glance at the horned guy. He's scowling, but schools his features into a blank slate when he sees Bam watching.
"You wish to talk to Bam, sir?"
"Yes. Let me borrow him for a quick moment."
Then the newcomer looks at Bam and smiles.
Well, at least here's someone who returns his smiles and doesn't feel as though he's going to attack immediately. Might as well follow a friendly face. The tension leaves his shoulders.
He follows the other out the door, down a long hallway, one turn, two turns, more doors, then a little open room at the end of the hallway.
It’s a lounge room. Surrounded by wall-length windows, it has at once a relaxing yet strangely private atmosphere. Perhaps it is because everyone is so far away. There are no other sounds except the hum of the air vents.
Bam starts to reconsider his earlier stance. This world already teems with violence, what was one more person who makes a move to kill him?
Thankfully, all the newcomer does is walk over to the window and lean against it. Something ― an earring ― sparkles when he tilts his head. He appraises Bam coolly like he's studying a rare specimen of bug.
"My name is Khun Aguero Agnis," he says.
Bam studies his face as he speaks. Khun does not look much older than Bam, and yet the precision in his expressions and movements is almost surgical. He doesn't appear cruel, certainly, but his lips do not seem used to smiling or laughing.
He realizes that he should be paying attention elsewhere.
"I'm Bam," he says, taking a step forward and sticking his hand out. Rachel had told him that this was the polite way to greet people. "Nice to meet you."
Khun looks at the outstretched hand and almost imperceptibly, his eyebrows rise up into his bangs. He takes the hand and shakes it smoothly as if he had never hesitated, but Bam is certain that his offering a handshake had, for some reason, been the wrong decision. Why?
"Likewise," he says in that cool voice. His hand is equally chilly and Bam suppresses the urge to shiver. When Khun drops Bam's hand, he glances at it, then back at his face.
"You must be wondering why I brought you out here," Khun says.
Bam nods, feeling the bandage around his temples shift with the movement.
Khun leans forward, and Bam suddenly realizes why his face is not one for smiling. His sharp gaze and pretty features are terrifying when he asks:
“Where did you get the Black March?”
Bam can't stop the small flinch that goes through him at the question. But he stays silent. Not going to make another mistake. A long pause stretches out in between them, and Bam studiously avoids Khun’s stare.
"Don't play dumb," Khun says. Impatience colors his voice. "I know that Anaak Jahad has it now. But you clearly held it during the crown game."
"Now." He takes a step forward, and Bam resists the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest. "Where did you get it?"
Bam thinks back to Evan's worried face and Headon saying This means execution .
He swallows. "Why is it so bad that I have it?"
Khun shakes his head. The room has become noticeably colder, and Bam doesn't think it's just his nerves. "Those weapons are meant for the Princesses of Jahad. You wouldn't normally be able to see one, much less hold one and wield it, until you're halfway up the Tower."
He takes another step, and now he's firmly in Bam's space. He’s only taller by about an inch or so, but with his overwhelming aura he practically towers over Bam. The cold emanating off his pale skin is definitely not a figment of his imagination. Bam thinks he would be able to see his breath in the air if he dared to speak.
"Tell me why you are breaking the rules," Khun says, staring down at him with those blue eyes. "And you know the Tower is not kind to those who threaten the status quo."
Bam swallows again. He wants to say something, to open his mouth to say something, anything, but whatever flimsy excuse he can give withers before it passes his tongue. He stands transfixed, staring at Khun.
He regrets following Khun to this isolated place. He’s never doing it again.
Never lie , comes whispers in his ear. It’s Rachel. Never break a promise, Bam .
"I can't tell you," Bam blurts out, praying that his luck will hold out once again. "I'm sorry. I made a promise."
Khun's surprise is palpable and immediate. Although his facial muscles don't move, his shoulders suddenly go slack, and he takes a step back, cold air retreating, his blue eyes still boring into Bam, assessing, assessing, assessing.
"Interesting," he says.
Bam has no idea what to make of that. Maybe interesting means his survival. Maybe it means dissection.
"I appreciate your honesty," Khun says. "Many would have lied. But you have courage."
Bam smiles hesitantly.
“I’m sorry,” he offers again.
Khun nods, then averts his gaze. "I didn't mean to threaten you," he says after a pause. It's an apology, of sorts.
Bam huffs out a laugh. Rachel was right.
"It's okay," he tells him. "You're not that threatening."
"Oh, yes?" Khun tries to remain impassive, but this time his eyebrows are definitely raised. His bright blue eyes swerve back to Bam's face.
"Yeah." Bam smiles, more confidently this time. "You're around my age, aren't you? You look like you could be a friend."
Khun regards him a moment longer, then turns away. The half-curve of his lips does not reach a smile, but it's close.
"You're weird."
"I was raised in a cave," Bam counters.
"Then it's no wonder." Khun leans against the wall and crosses his arms. His face is so pretty and polished, it’s almost doll-like. Bam wishes he could see what Khun would look like in a full-out laugh. Maybe it’d be like seeing a machine come to life.
"You can head back," Khun says abruptly. It’s definitely a dismissal.
"Oh. Right." Bam turns around to leave.
"Don't focus so much on the appearance of shinsu," Khun calls out after him. "Concentrate on the flow of shinsu rather than its form, and you'll be able to control it faster."
Bam pauses at the door. Here was, perhaps, another person he had a temporary truce with. Relief blooms in his chest. He flashes Khun a quick grin. "Thanks!"
"You're welcome."
The beginning of the end starts on a Thursday, but Khun only realizes it a week later.
He's calling Kiseia, who is, as always, his best source of information and the closest thing to a confidante that he has. Ever since they were young and Kiseia had moved into their family home, they had been inseparable. They understood each other, beast to beast.
Once, when they were five, they had even made a pact to not betray each other. Written in ink and signed in blood, and all that. Khun and Kiseia kept no secrets from each other.
Except for this one.
Khun lies back on his pillows and examines his fingernails. His Pocket floats lazily above his head, where the sound of Kiseia ranting about her day flows in through one ear and goes out the other. Khun can only think of a warm hand, burning brown against his pale skin; he thinks of warmer eyes, the color of a wheat field against a blue sky.
"Give Mother my regards," he tells his Pocket once there’s a break in the conversation. "And make my excuses for me."
Kiseia huffs on the other end. "What excuses? You’re just taking a vacation down there, you lazy bum.”
"Our family can do without me for a while. I found something interesting. Something worthwhile."
He doesn't smile - there is no point in smiling when he's alone - but he thinks back to that afternoon, and it's not a bad memory.
Nice to meet you . No one had said that to him since he'd climbed the 40th floor, and even before that, his name had always preceded any niceties or camaraderie.
Which is fine. It's why he's a ranker and they're not. But Bam is no competition, he’s just a normal boy. Yet somehow he’s crammed full of mysteries, and he inexplicably has the nerve to say things he’s never heard from any regular before. It’s interesting enough that Khun wants him alive. He’s frankly bored out of his mind.
"Have fun," Kiseia says grudgingly. She doesn't say anything for a while, but Khun can hear a lingering nervousness vibrating on the waves of static between them.
"Just don't wait too long to come home," she says. "She's scared. She needs your help against the other Princesses."
"Again?"
"Yes. People are talking of revolution. Jahad's making more and more Princesses and the competition's getting tight."
Khun snorts. He has no idea about his father, but it would be just like his mother and sister to go into a panic. And it’s just like Kiseia to be worried about whatever his sister’s worried about. He and Kiseia are mutually bound in their allegiance to their family Princess, Kiseia unconditionally, Khun contractually.
"People have been talking of revolution for ages,” he tells her. “FUG's not going to storm the upper floors anytime soon."
"If you say so."
"I do. There are no active slayers, and FUG has no new blood. If there were," - his grip tightens into a fist - "I would get rid of them."
Kiseia is silent. Then, "Good to know you're a family man."
"Anything for sister dearest," he replies dryly.
He hangs up the call, and goes to wash his hands.
Hide-and-Seek is laughable. Khun watches Quant easily dispatch the first group. There are some strong ones there, no doubt, like the wave controller wrapped in a blanket. The young Princess of Jahad is powerful, which is a given. But the rest are helpless in the face of Quant's playful maneuvers. Overall, it’s like he’s watching a bunch of blind mice get swiped around by a bored cat.
He's watching the livestream by himself this time. Hansung is off somewhere, probably sipping his disgusting coffee and putting his pretty hair up with pretty combs and clips.
He sighs. It's boring, but research is research, and potential is born anywhere, anytime. At least the second group will be more fun.
Khun scans the list of Group B. This one has another Princess ― Endorssi Jahad ― and she and Anaak already seem to hold animosity against each other.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. He wishes he had watched their little spat in the fishermen’s class. Competition begins before birth in the Tower, but many only realize that once it's too late.
Like, for example, Bam, who is apparently playing buddy-buddy with the rest of his testmates. Khun wishes he could shake the boy by the shoulders and tell him to get a grip on reality.
They haven't seen each other much since their first conversation. For one, Khun doesn't want to burden Bam with favoritism, which he thinks must already weigh heavily on his shoulders. Showing interest in a regular is fine, but ultimately it won't help Bam to be associated with an infamous ranker. For another, he doesn't want Hansung to suspect anything. He knows Hansung is watching his every move.
But there’s another reason.
When they do see each other, Khun can't stop thinking about Bam's eyes. He's never seen a color like that. Hours and hours later, he'll still be seeing that burnished gold framed by black lashes, the easy smile, the fluttering awkwardness of a normal teenage boy.
It's distracting. It's annoying. And it's all Bam's fault.
But Khun refuses to think about it further.
So they haven't seen each other much. Khun had visited the training rooms a couple of times. Bam had a natural talent for shinsu, but his technique is amateurish, and he seemed to appreciate Khun giving him tips and advice. He's also eaten lunch with Bam at the cafeteria, even if it didn't go as well as he'd thought it'd go. And when they see each other in the hallways, Bam always gives him a wave and an uncertain smile, even when flanked by his friends, and he always nods in return.
Khun frowns.
Maybe he has been seeing Bam a lot.
He brings out his Pocket and dials Hansung. The man picks up on the first ring.
"Yes, Khun, what is it?"
"What did you think of Group A?"
"I'm excited for Group B," Hansung says dryly.
"Is Quant the seeker again?"
"Yes." Hansung's voice is clipped. "Why do you ask?"
Khun licks his lips and injects as much charm as he can stomach into the next sentence coming out of his mouth.
"Could he be persuaded to let me be the seeker for this round?"
"Cut the bullshit, Khun Aguero Agnis," Hansung says. "I'm not letting a ranker interfere with the tests."
"There's a rule against interfering with the regulars," Khun points out. "Not that they can't administer or proctor the test. I'm sure neither Evankhell nor the Administrator will have a problem."
"The decision is still at my discretion," Hansung says. "I won't let you without a good reason."
"A good reason," Khun muses. "Like?"
"I thought thinking was your specialty,” comes the unsympathetic voice from the other end. “Come up with one before tomorrow. Bye now."
"Wait!"
Khun chews on his lip. The silence on the other side waits impatiently.
Well, might as well ditch the charm. It was never going to work on Hansung anyway, he and that man went together like oil and water. Khun lowers his voice instead.
"If you didn't have an available seeker for the next round, would that be an acceptable reason?"
He hears nothing from Hansung's end. He waits.
"Don't touch him," Hansung says finally. His voice is quiet but barbed with intensity. "You can be a seeker. But God forbid you do anything out of line. Not even you are safe from the rules of this Tower."
Khun nods. "Thanks, Hansung."
"Don't think that your family will protect you forever, Khun."
"I don't," he says lightly. "And for the record, I don't believe in God either."
He hangs up.
Khun doesn't want to pull rank, nor does he like manipulation. He's just good at it. That's all.
In the Tower, you've got to get what you can, how you can.
"Er - there’s been a change of plan, everyone. Please pay attention and listen up. We have an announcement to Group B. Quant has stepped down as seeker for your exam."
A murmur of surprise ripples through the crowd.
"Instead, the ranker Khun Aguero Agnis will be your seeker. Since he is a proctor of this exam, the rules regulating his fights with regulars have been temporarily lifted."
The murmurs turn anxious.
“That will be all. The rules of the game remain unchanged.”
"Why did Quant step down?" Someone asks. No one replies.
"Yeah, why do we get a more difficult ranker? That's unfair," another complains.
Group B stands huddled in the center of the safety zone. The lights are dim, and the pathways leading out of the maze are shrouded in pitch darkness. Bam looks at Rachel ― Michelle, or whatever she chooses to call herself ― who still has her cowl over her face and is refusing to look in Bam's direction.
A sharp laugh comes from the back of the crowd. Bam turns his head and sees Endrossi.
"Ranker or not, Great Family or not, it doesn't matter as long as we beat him, right?"
Her grin bares sharp teeth. It always does.
"Alright, team, let's go!" She claps her hands, and the other members jolt. "We're gonna beat his ass."
Bam isn't sure about that.
It doesn't matter, though. All he needs to do is perform well enough to pass the test, and - well -
He looks at Rachel again.
As the bell chimes and they all start moving into their positions, Bam starts to wonder as well.
Why was Khun the seeker? Quant had seemed perfectly fine in the first round, if not a smidge too eager.
Would Khun be an easier fight, or a harder one? Bam has no idea.
On the one hand, Khun is ranked higher. He's from the Ten Great Families, the existence of which he had heard from Leesoo only recently. Bam blushes when he thinks of how naive and rude he must have seemed in their first meeting to brazenly tease Khun like that.
Apparently, even within rankers, Khun had been one of the youngest ever to scale the Tower. And he's an accomplished light bearer, something that would come in handy in this exam. Logic dictates that he will be a harder match than Quant.
Bam thinks about what would happen if he had to fight Khun.
Those blue eyes of his are cold and guarded. He doesn't ever know what Khun is thinking. The mask is perfect, all polished and lacquered, not a hair out of place. Only his eyes give any real indication of his emotions, but most of the time they are just as sharp as he is.
But they can be gentle too. And his voice is, if not warm, at least neutral when he talks to Bam, compared with their first conversation. Khun can be merciful, and helpful, and he can apparently take a joke, because he'd have obliterated Bam otherwise.
And then there is also the strange phenomenon of Khun randomly showing up to talk to Bam.
He frowns.
His group of four heads out of the safety zone and heads into the darkness of the maze. He throws a final glance in Rachel’s direction but she’s peering into her lighthouse.
Endrossi easily keeps pace with him. She hums as they walk, but there is a slight furrow between her brows.
"I do wonder what happened to Quant,” she says lightly. “I know I said what I said earlier, but at least with Quant we knew his abilities and personality."
She peeks back at Bam. He blinks at her.
"Yeah," he says, because it seems as though she's looking for a response.
"I don't know what Khun Aguero Agnis is capable of."
Bam catches on. "I don't know either," he says. "Sorry."
"Hmm." Endrossi turns back around and resumes walking.
Yes, that strange phenomenon. Without it ever becoming too obvious or obtrusive, Khun had shown up to training sessions. He only ever came to the wave controllers, even though he himself was a light bearer, and he only really paid attention to Bam. Most of the time he sat at the back of the classroom, which made the instructor Ren all nervy and jumpy if nothing else.
That lunch, though. That had been a different matter.
Bam had just sat down with Rak and Leesoo. The three of them had a good balance, and conversation flowed easily. Leesoo was smart, and he was kind with Bam’s complete ignorance, for which Bam was eternally grateful. Rak mostly focused on his food but his contributions always propelled conversations forward.
They had been on the topic of Princesses.
"I just don't get it," Bam said. "Endrossi can be nice. Anaak is too."
"She tried to kill you," Leesoo pointed out, his mouth full of fried rice.
"Only for the Black March. I don't get the sense that she's going around picking fights. So I don't understand why they're at each other's throats." Bam shoves the food around his plate with his fork.
Rak snorted. "That's because you have no ambition, black turtle. The strong ones fight and climb the tower."
"The alligator is right," came a voice behind them.
The three turned their heads. Khun Aguero Agnis stood there with a cup in hand, the other hand in his pocket.
Bam stared. He'd never seen Khun so dressed down in a sweater and jeans, and he looked - good. He looked softer. More human. The dark wool brought out the lightness of his coloring. Bam swallowed.
"Mind if I sit?" He asked, gesturing at the table. Leesoo had gone stiff, so Bam nodded. He sat down next to Rak across from Bam.
"I'm not an alligator," Rak growled.
Khun waved his hand. "Crocodile. Same difference."
He looked at Bam and tilted his head to the side. “Sorry to interrupt the conversation.”
Bam smiled at him. “No, please join. You were saying?”
"The Tower is a dog-eat-dog world,” Khun said. “The sooner you get that, the sooner you'll stop wasting your time worrying about others."
Bam took a thoughtful bite of his meal.
"I still don't think it’s right," he said stubbornly. Khun sipped his tea, or whatever it was he was drinking.
"How come you wanna climb the Tower, anyway?" Leesoo asked him.
He shrugged. "I just want to find Rachel and stay with her."
His eyes inadvertently roamed across the cafeteria, but there was no flash of yellow-blonde hair. She was probably holed up inside her room again. He had walked past so many times, even lifted his hand to knock once, but in the end chickened out. He resisted the urge to sigh.
"Who's that?" Khun asked.
"She was my only companion my whole life. Or what I remember of it."
"In the cave?"
Bam was surprised he'd remembered. "Yeah. The cave. She entered the Tower, and I chased after her."
"Hmm. Why'd she leave the cave?"
"She always wanted to see the stars."
Khun waved his hand. "No, I meant - why'd she leave you behind?"
Bam looked at him uncomprehendingly.
Khun gazed back at him, an edge in his voice that hadn't been there before.
"Didn't she know you'd be all alone?"
"I - She just loved the stars a lot."
Khun looked away and took another sip of his tea. His pinky stuck up when he tilted the cup.
Bam tried to reign in a feeling of - what it is, exactly, he didn't know. But he pushed it down. Rachel wasn’t here to defend herself.
"I just wish they didn't have to fight, that's all," Bam said, returning to the previous topic.
"Not your problem, not your fight," Rak grunted.
Khun nodded. "The crocodile makes a good point. You have to let go of other people in order to survive."
"Is that how you got up the Tower?" Bam asked. He heard Leesoo suck in a breath beside him.
"Yes." Khun didn't smile. "Unfortunately, you've got to pick and choose what's important to you. The fights of others aren't."
"How about the lives of others?" Bam balled up his fists in his lap, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.
Khun shrugged.
There was a long pause. The din of the crowd was cotton wool around their table, isolating them in a bubble of silence. Even Rak stopped eating.
"So did you - " Bam started. He ignored Leesoo's hand pressed against his knee. "Did you have to kill people?"
"To get to the top? Of course."
The casual admission knocked the breath out of Bam. He just stared at Khun, wide-eyed, until the other boy looked away first.
He was wrong. The sweater was soft but the person wearing it wielded innocence like a dagger.
There had been another void in the conversation afterward. Rak continued eating, oblivious to the awkwardness. Leesoo coughed and he had a green pallor.
Bam couldn't stop looking at Khun.
He stared, fascinated at the hint of color in Khun's pale cheeks. His eyelashes were blue, too, he realized. Animals in the wild had bright colors to warn off others, screaming at the world: I'm dangerous. I'm dangerous.
But Bam remembered the feel of Khun's fingers reaching out to reposition his hand. To better summon and control shinsu, he'd said. The cool tips of his fingers dragging against the surface of Bam's wrist made the shinsu ball he'd summoned wobble dangerously mid-air.
His touch had been so gentle. Like he was afraid of touching Bam’s hand.
There , he'd said. Try to feel the flow of shinsu. You can do it.
And Bam had, in the end.
At that moment, sitting at the table, watching Khun slowly sip at his tea, he could've said so many things. What have you done? Who did you kill?
Why did you help me then?
But he didn't. He didn't even realize Khun was leaving until he was already out of his seat. He didn't look at anyone as he stood.
"Good talk," Khun said. And left the room.
No one said anything for a long time. Leesoo let out a breath like a poked balloon and leaned back in his seat. Rak finished his noodles and started eating Bam's leftovers. Bam stared at the door where Khun had left, deep in thought.
Finally Leesoo had said, "What the fuck?"
And that had been the end of that.
The Pocket starts ringing. Endrossi picks up.
"He's here! We've found the seek - ack !"
"Hmm. That was fast," Endorssi muses. She turns around and looks at the members of their team: Bam, Des Lion, Hong. She examines them with something like regret. Bam doesn't understand.
"Do you know what kind of childhood I had, Bam?" She says.
"No," he says. "Tell me."
Khun frowns. There are sounds of shouting coming from the safety zone, which - isn't he their only enemy? What was going on? Group B was definitely more volatile ― earlier he had passed a couple more regulars lying immobile on cracked floors.
He reaches the large room in the center of the maze and stops dead in his tracks.
In front of him lies a strange tableau. A horned regular, holding a girl against him with a knife at her neck. Bam, a few meters away, his eyes panicked and wide. His hands are out at his sides, palms up. Pleading.
Khun is distinctly annoyed. No one should be getting hurt in this exam other than those who engage the ranker. He owed Hansung that much, at least.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The sound carries in the room, and everyone's heads snap around to face him.
Khun walks slowly towards them, mirroring Bam's pose, hands stretched out, but the difference is that ice-smoke starts pouring out from the tips of his fingers.
"Please, Hoh!" Bam shouts. "Let Rachel go!"
Hoh's eyes flick back and forth between Bam and Khun. Khun vaguely remembers seeing him in the wave controller classes.
"Perfect," Hoh says. He jostles the fair-haired girl and pushes the knife closer to her throat. "Bam. Fight the ranker. If you lose, I kill her. If you win I'll let her go. "
What.
What?
Khun is now distinctly not annoyed. He’s ― furious.
Bam gets unsteadily to his feet. He turns his face to Khun. His golden eyes are stretched wide, pupils blown, pitch-black against bright. His hair is mussed and there's a wound on his head, red dripping down the side of his face.
Khun clenches and unclenches his fist. There's a fog in his head. The sight of Bam, injured, does something to him. He can't think properly, there’s a fog in his head, and suddenly another tableau rises unbidden in his mind ―
A memory from the past.
He's at another fight. This one's flashier. An official tournament, and he's just a spectator. He leans forward and grips the railings.
The crowd, all shades of blue, cheers bloodlust.
Two girls stand off against each other. There's a clear winner, although the loser doesn't realize it yet.
The sun glints off the edge of steel and armor.
The blood at her temples leaks down the side of her pale face.
Her eyes blaze blue. Defiant.
Stupid. No one can be defiant in the face of destiny.
He watches her die, watches her blood leak into the sand below, and feels nothing ―
Khun shakes his head. He can't be thinking of her right now.
That bastard is still holding Rachel in a fierce grip. There is a thin line of blood across her neck too. Red everywhere.
Khun puts his mind to work.
He forces a breath through his teeth and puts on an air of calm. "Alright. Bam, show me what you've got," Khun says, walking towards him.
"I - what?" Bam's mouth falls open, and he shifts to face Khun, hands outstretched. The naked distress on his face is painful.
"You heard me." He doesn't look at Hoh, but he knows that he's watching. The grip on his hostage doesn't loosen. Khun keeps walking.
Bam presses his mouth into a determined line. His hands curl into fists, and Khun wants to stop and lecture him about keeping your palms open but now's not the time. It's a defense mechanism. Against him .
Khun ignores the swirling anxiety in his stomach and keeps walking. He's halfway to Bam now, closer to Hoh and Rachel. His lighthouses are invisible and moving slowly so as to not attract attention.
"Bam," he says.
"Khun," Bam replies. His voice is wary but his expression somehow still seems so open - so trusting, so kind. Khun wonders if Bam will really fight.
Stupid. Of course he will.
Rachel's life is on the line. He definitely wouldn't hesitate; he can't hesitate. To hesitate in the Tower is to hand your opponent a knife and a bared stomach.
"Do you remember what I told you?" Khun keeps his eyes trained on Bam's face, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hoh relax his stance just the slightest inch.
Bam watches him like one watches a viper in the grass. "When?"
"At lunch."
"I’m really going to fight you," he says, and it sounds ridiculous coming out of Bam’s mouth.
Almost there. Just a couple more steps.
Sorry, Hansung.
"It's a dog-eat-dog world," Khun says.
He snaps his fingers and suddenly he is behind Hoh, lighthouses blazing in full view. Before the other can react, he grabs the wrist holding the knife and pours the full brunt of that swirling anxiety, that protective rage, that memory of bloodshed - into his shinsu.
Ice crackles into existence, forming shackles around Hoh's wrist, then spreading down his body until he is entirely immobilized. Rachel falls to the ground, gasping for air.
"Rachel!" Bam shouts, running over. He crouches over her.
Khun's hand is still on Hoh's wrist. He takes the curved knife from his unresisting hand. It’s a long thin blade, just the kind he prefers using. Right now, though, he feels sick looking at it. It’s a dead weight in his hands.
Bam cradles Rachel in his arms. He looks up at Khun, but Khun does not look at him.
All that fury and grief and worry and pain are gone, buried deep in his ice. He just feels tired now, facing a coward who does not deserve whatever mercy he will get.
Hoh's eyes are wide and bottomless with fear.
“It’s not fair,” he whispers. It echoes in the room. “All you strong people know . . .”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but closes his eyes instead.
Bam says, “Khun ― ”
And in one smooth, practiced move, Khun drags the point of the knife across soft skin, Hoh’s throat bursting open like a filled bag. Blood splatters to the ground and none fall on Khun at all.
Hoh slumps over, gurgling, his hands fighting to free themselves so that he can hold his throat closed. His garbled words are swallowed up in liquid and thrashes of pain.
Eventually he stops.
Khun lets go of the knife. It clatters to the ground.
He finally focuses in Bam's direction. Rachel's cloak is splattered with blood, and there are a few drops on Bam's face. He can’t quite describe the expression on Bam’s face.
A metallic smell permeates the air.
He can't bear to meet Bam's eyes.
It's Maria all over again, but this time he doesn't know who slaughtered whom, who died, who lived, it's all too confusing.
All he knows is that he won't meet Bam's eyes because surely they shall smite him in gold, bright innocence against his dark dark soul.
So Khun keeps his gaze elsewhere and wipes his spotless hand on his pant legs.
"Become strong to protect those you love," he says. His voice is far away in his own ears. "That's the way of the Tower."
And he walks away.
epilogue
He's banned from everything. Not even allowed to watch through the lighthouses. Whatever. The Submerged Fish final exam is stupid, anyway, and he doesn't care to see people he doesn't want to see. It doesn't matter. Hansung is not as furious as he'd thought and agrees that given the circumstances, Hoh should have been stopped.
Khun calls his sister for the first time in a while and tells her he's coming home.
"Had fun?" She asks him. Her voice is fresh like spring. He wonders what it’s like to go through life like that.
"Yes. I've forgotten how weak everyone is on the second floor."
She laughs airily. "Maybe I should visit too. What would they think of a Princess of Jahad, coming to see their stupid faces?"
"I'm sure they'd be delighted."
He ends the call, then sits in his room, bored out of his mind. He hasn't gone outside much this past week at all, not because he's avoiding Bam or anyone else, but because he's bone tired and doesn't want to add another burden to his mind. Only those who can let go are allowed to ascend the Tower, after all. It's an ingrained habit by this point.
Because he's not watching the lighthouses, he doesn't know anything until Lero Ro comes to find him. He accepts it at face value because of course that would happen. It would happen to someone like Bam.
Everyone knows that the Tower is corrupt because those who aren't are weeded out early.
Still, he goes to the testing site and blows apart the gigantic worm vessel to bits.
Just to see if it's true. Just to prove a point.
Maria had not been allowed a funeral. As the disgraced loser of the fight, her entire branch had been banished, the body left for carrion crows.
As Khun began his ascent up the tower, the truth of his fake alliance with Maria made its way into Tower gossip. Just like the Khun family to deceive a Princess-elect , people whispered. His father must be proud. Lo Po Biau snakes have nothing on the Khun children.
There's a difference, of course. She was also a Khun. She knew lies and backstabbing, but once she was convinced she had his support, it was over. Bam had never even tried to manipulate someone, never had the chance.
Maybe it was for the best. Khun doesn't know. He's tired. He got his hopes up for nothing. Life is boring like that.
Without saying a word, Khun leaves the second floor and returns home to his family.