Volume 03, Chapter 37

  An Informant

  -Slam!

  The loud slam of a door echoes through the room, startling me.

  “Hey, Mason, do you ha—holy mother of—what happened here?”

  The voice is familiar. With some effort, I look toward its source. To my surprise, it’s the same guy I bumped into earlier. What is he doing here?

  The System’s notification pops up, and a wave of relief floods through me. Finally—it’s over. The duel against Mason is behind me.

  “Here, take this. It’ll patch you up,” Mason’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

  I turn to see him holding out a small bottle of healing potion.

  “Thanks…” I mutter, taking it gratefully. As I drink, the soothing effects spread through my body, easing the worst of my aches and pains.

  “Hello? Is anyone going to answer my question?” the newcomer—René, apparently—asks, his tone exasperated.

  Mason turns to him, smirking. “Look what the cat dragged in. You missed quite the show, René. Next time, grab a front-row seat instead of sneaking in at the end.”

  So, his name is René.

  “A show?” René snaps, his face a mix of confusion and frustration. “I’m not here for any damn show, Mason. I just came to grab a drink—not to watch some poor sap get beat to a pulp!”

  “Relax, René.” Mason waves him off casually. “The bar’s always open, and the entertainment’s free. Grab a drink and enjoy the view, my friend. Life’s too short for just business, don’t you think?”

  Mason’s demeanor is as nonchalant as ever, like he didn’t just put me through the wringer.

  He then turns back to me, extending a hand. “Come on, get up.”

  I grasp it, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs feel shaky but stable enough. As I straighten, I glance down at my uniform. It’s practically shredded, hanging in tatters after the fight.

  “You’ve got a spark in you, kid,” Mason says, his grin widening as he extends his hand once more, this time with an air of formality. “Name’s Mason Schmidt. And who might you be?”

  I take his hand, meeting his firm grip with my own. “I’m Dominic E?eforte. Nice to meet you too.”

  Mason nods approvingly. “About the orb purification—I’ll let you know when it’s taken care of.”

  “Okay,” I reply. “I’ll give you my contact number.”

  Mason shakes his head, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Save it. I’ve got my ways of getting in touch.”

  I raise an eyebrow at his cryptic response. “And how will you do that?”

  “Let’s just call it a secret, shall we?”

  “Uhh… sure,” I say, uncertain but deciding it’s better to play along.

  Before I can question further, a voice cuts through the air.

  “Hey, what’s this? You guys yappin’ about Monster Orbs or somethin’?”

  I turn to see a man approaching—a lean figure with a sharp, weathered face and a perpetual scowl that seems etched into his features.

  Mason gestures casually toward him. “Dominic, this here’s René. Don’t let the mug or the scowl fool ya—he’s one of the best informants in the city.” He then adds with a chuckle, “René, meet my new acquaintance.”

  René’s eyes narrow as they sweep over me, assessing. He extends a hand reluctantly, as if he’s not quite sold on me yet.

  “Yeah, the pleasure’s all mine,” he says, his tone dry. “So, you’re a new customer, huh? What’s your story?”

  I clasp his hand briefly, meeting his gaze. “Just trying to find my way around, learn a few tricks here and there.”

  Mason grins, his demeanor as relaxed as ever. “René’s your guy if you need to know the ins and outs of the less… savory parts of town. But fair warning—stick close to the light with this one.”

  René snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might be amusement. “Very funny, Mason. I might know the dark corners, but I always keep it straight. Mostly.”

  “That’s true enough,” Mason says. “Just keep your eyes open, and you’ll learn a lot. René’s got a knack for finding the kind of information most folks wouldn’t even know to look for.”

  René shrugs nonchalantly. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  Mason claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “Anyway, drinks are on the house for this meeting. How about that?”

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  René raises his glass, giving me a sly nod. “Alright, kid, let’s see what you’re made of. But first, a toast. To new beginnings and profitable friendships.”

  I hesitate, the glass he offers feeling heavier than it should. Sure, I’m technically an adult trapped in a teenager’s body, but the idea of drinking right now feels… off. If Celine catches even a hint of alcohol on me, I’m doomed. And honestly? I’d rather not test her wrath—she’s terrifying when mad.

  “Uh… I can’t drink. I’m only fifteen,” I say, hoping to sidestep the situation gracefully.

  René raises an eyebrow but smirks knowingly. “Smart kid. No worries, I’ll fix you something non-alcoholic.”

  Mason, seated across from us, leans forward with a playful grin. “Juice for the young master, coming right up.”

  I relax slightly. Juice doesn’t sound bad. At least I won’t have to risk an interrogation from Celine later.

  René hands me a glass of dark, fizzy liquid. It smells fruity and harmless, and I raise it tentatively.

  “To new beginnings,” I say, clinking my glass against theirs.

  The gesture feels oddly significant, like I’ve crossed an invisible threshold. As the glasses meet, I can’t help but feel a faint ripple of anticipation for whatever lies ahead.

  ════ ?★? ════

  After our informal gathering at Le Petit Verre, I step into the cool evening air. The distant murmur of Verdant Haven's nightlife rises as the city transitions into its nocturnal rhythm. The gentle breeze carries a hint of lavender from the nearby gardens, mingling with the faint hum of mana-powered streetlights flickering to life.

  Unexpectedly, my time inside had been quite fruitful. René and I exchanged phone numbers during our conversation—a peculiar turn of events, given that I’m only fifteen.

  His insistence puzzled me until he explained: “You seem like someone who’ll need access to critical information soon.” Coming from an informant, it was both a compliment and a warning.

  Reluctantly, I agreed, thinking his contact might prove useful if I ever needed to purchase information. Still, his certainty about my future left me uneasy, as if he knew something I didn’t.

  “Haa!” I stretch my arms overhead, exhaling deeply. The night air feels invigorating, yet my mind churns with plans.

  With the Demon Orb undergoing purification, my next objective looms large. Tomorrow, after school, I’ll gather the artifacts required for the Manaficial ritual. Each artifact is housed in a different temple scattered across the far corners of Verdant Haven.

  The first is the Mirror of Lysandra, hidden within the Temple du Miroir Caché in the Greenwood Region to the north. The second is the Scepter of Binding, secured in the Temple du Sceptre Lié within the Misty Peaks Region to the east. The third, the Chalice of Merging, rests in the Temple du Calice de Convergence on the Emerald Coastline to the west.

  Securing these artifacts will be no small feat. Each temple has traps designed to deter all but the most determined seekers. I’ve decided to start with the Mirror of Lysandra; its traps are reputedly less deadly—or at least, easier to avoid.

  -Ring!

  The sharp chime of my Commlink pulls me from my thoughts. I fish it out of my pocket and glance at the screen. Celine.

  “Hi, Mum,” I answer, trying to sound casual.

  “Dominic, where are you? It’s already 5:18 PM!” Her voice carries that familiar mix of worry and exasperation.

  I glance at my watch, startled by how much time has passed. “I—I’m on my way! Just hanging out with Arthur. Bye, Mum!”

  “Wait—”

  I end the call mid-sentence, wincing slightly at my abruptness. A lecture about punctuality is the last thing I need right now.

  “It’s time to go home,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, I take off at a brisk jog toward the Gare des étoiles. Missing the next train would only give my mother more reason to worry—and I’ve had enough drama for one evening.

  ════ ?★? ════

  Two hours later, I stand before my house. The soft glow of the porch light and the muffled sounds of conversation from inside feel comforting after a long day. Taking a deep breath to settle my thoughts, I open the door and step inside.

  The familiar warmth of home greets me, accompanied by laughter from the living room. Curious, I head toward the sound.

  André, Celine, and Clark are huddled together on the sofa, engrossed in a photo album spread open on the coffee table.

  Celine points at a photograph, her smile warm. “This is Dominic when he was six years old, Clark. Isn’t he adorable?”

  Clark tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “That’s Dominic? Why does he look so…thin?”

  André chuckles, ruffling Clark’s hair. “Haha! Don’t say it like that, Clark. He was just…energetic back then.”

  Their shared laughter fills the room, and I can’t help but smile. The scene is heartwarming—André’s ease with Clark, Celine’s warmth, the familial connection they’ve fostered. Moments like these remind me how lucky I am to have them.

  Yet, I’m intrigued by the photo album. These glimpses of Dominic’s past offer a rare chance to understand the life I’ve stepped into—memories I wasn’t given when I transmigrated into his body.

  “What’s everyone up to?” I ask as I step closer.

  At the sound of my voice, all three turn toward me.

  “Dominic!” Clark’s face lights up as he leaps off the couch and runs to me, wrapping his arms tightly around my leg.

  “Hey there, Little One,” I say, crouching to ruffle his hair. “How was your day?”

  “It was fun! Miss Celine and Mister André are so cool!” he exclaims, his excitement infectious.

  “That’s good to hear,” I reply, smiling at Celine and André, who both regard me with expressions that mix affection and mild concern.

  “Dominic,” Celine says, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “What happened to your uniform?”

  I glance down, realizing for the first time how tattered my clothes look after the “duel” with Mason. Panic sparks, but I quickly force a casual laugh. “Oh, I tripped on the way home. No big deal.”

  Celine sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You need to be more careful.”

  André groans, muttering, “This boy…” before shaking his head in disbelief and amusement.

  “Ahem,” I clear my throat, eager to redirect the conversation. “What’s in the album?”

  Clark’s face lights up again. “We’re looking at your old pictures! Come see!” Without waiting for my response, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the coffee table.

  “Easy there, Little One!” I laugh, letting him lead me.

  We settle on the floor, and Clark eagerly flips through the pages, pointing out photos. “Look! Celine says you and Arthur are childhood friends!”

  I lean in to see a photo of a younger version of Arthur and me, both grinning widely, our clothes streaked with mud. The scene exudes pure, carefree joy.

  “Do you remember this, Dominic?” André asks, his tone light.

  Feigning confidence, I nod. “Yeah, it was…a fun time.”

  Clark flips to another page, revealing a group photo from what seems to be an elementary school graduation. I study the image closely. I am standing with Arthur and a girl with long silver hair and striking eyes. Arthur has his arms around us, his grin as wide as ever.

  “Celine says this is your elementary graduation!” Clark announces proudly.

  I nod, but my gaze lingers on the girl. Something about her stirs a pang of sadness—a hollow ache I can’t explain.

  “Ah, yes, your graduation,” André says. “Do you remember Fleurine?”

  I shake my head. “No…who is she?”

  A shadow crosses their faces, their smiles dimming.

  Celine speaks softly. “Fleurine was one of your closest friends, along with Arthur. She…passed away shortly after graduation.”

  Her words hit me like a wave. I have no memory of this girl, yet the grief feels real, as though it belongs to me. I don’t fully understand the weight of a loss presses on my chest.

  “Don’t be sad, Dominic,” Clark’s small voice breaks through my thoughts. His tiny hand tugs at my sleeve, his wide eyes full of empathy. “I’m here for you.”

  His simple sincerity pulls me back to the present. Smiling, I reach out and ruffle his hair. “Thanks, Little One.”

  The heaviness lingers, but his gesture lightens it, grounding me in the connections I have now rather than the past I can’t fully recall.

  Sensing the shift in mood, André claps his hands together. “Alright! Enough of the heavy stuff. Let’s see what other treasures are in this album.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, I nod. “Yeah.”

  As Clark eagerly turns the pages, I find myself leaning into the moment, embracing the warmth of the present while letting the echoes of the past settle quietly in the background.