The grand clock tower of the United Educational Institute chimed midnight. The heavy, resonant tolls echoed across the sprawling, empty courtyards, signaling the beginning of the curfew.
Devin stood entirely concealed in the deep shadows of the northern aqueduct entrance. The freezing night air bit at the collar of his woven jacket, but the dormant Cyprian venom kept his core temperature comfortably high. He waited in the absolute silence, his dark eyes scanning the illuminated stone pathways.
Footsteps approached. They were measured, confident, and utterly lacking in stealth.
Ferran Mortipia emerged from the heavy fog, his dark Stark uniform blending into the night. He stopped at the edge of the aqueduct, checking a silver pocket watch with a sharp click.
"You're late, barista," Ferran murmured, not looking up from the dial.
Devin stepped out of the shadows, his boots completely silent on the damp cobblestones. "I'm on time, Mortipia. Your watch is running fast."
Ferran snapped the silver casing shut and slipped it into his pocket. He looked at Devin, offering a short, acknowledging nod. The arrogant hostility from the afternoon was entirely gone, replaced by the rigid, tactical focus of a prince executing a covert operation.
"The night watchman is currently doing his rounds in the primary Frazer testing bays," Ferran reported, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I requested an emergency overnight exhaust clearance. He's required to log the emissions for the next twenty minutes. The basement access is completely clear."
"Then let's drop the pressure," Devin said.
They moved swiftly down the narrow, spiraling stone stairwell that led into the subterranean belly of the institute.
The basement was a sprawling, industrial nightmare of massive iron boilers, hissing steam vents, and thick, runic pipes that pumped pressurized water and magical energy throughout the entire academy. The air was suffocatingly hot and smelled heavily of sulfur and wet iron.
Devin navigated the labyrinth of pipes with predatory grace, leaving Ferran to watch the entrance. He located the primary steam manifold designated for the Aquatic Technology tier. It was a massive, rusted iron wheel bolted to a thick, glowing blue pipe.
Devin grabbed the heavy iron wheel with both hands. It was designed to be turned by two fully grown men using heavy mechanical wrenches.
Devin didn't need a wrench. He leaned into the wheel, explicitly calling upon a fraction of the Cyprian venom. His muscles coiled, thick veins popping dark against his neck. With a sharp, grinding screech of protesting metal, the rusted wheel turned. He spun it completely shut.
The glowing blue pipe instantly dimmed. A deep, mechanical groaning echoed through the ceiling above them as the hydraulic pressure in the upper tiers rapidly depressurized.
Devin wiped his hands on his trousers and walked back to Ferran.
"It's done," Devin said quietly. "Let's go pop a door."
They ascended two flights of stairs, arriving at the isolated, heavily reinforced wing of the Aquatic Technology department.
The corridor was entirely different from the rest of the UEI. The walls were lined with thick, pressurized glass tanks filled with glowing, bioluminescent marine flora. The air was cool and smelled sharply of saltwater and deep-sea brine.
At the end of the hall stood the primary laboratory doors. They were thick, interlocking slabs of heavy steel, completely lacking keyholes. They operated entirely on hydraulic seals and magical wards.
"The wards are still active," Ferran whispered, pointing to the faint, glowing red runes etched into the steel frame. "If we shatter the door or use magic to breach it, the alarms will wake the entire campus."
"We aren't breaching it," Devin replied, stepping up to the seam where the two massive steel doors met. "We're just sliding it."
Devin dug his fingers into the microscopic, rubber-lined seam between the doors. Without the immense hydraulic pressure locking them in place, it was just dead weight. But it was still thousands of pounds of solid steel.
Devin closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, fully unleashing the physical strength of the sleeper agent while maintaining an absolute, iron grip on his mental leash.
He pulled.
The muscles in his back and shoulders strained to their absolute physical limits. The thick canvas of his jacket audibly tore at the seams. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the heavy steel gave a sharp, metallic shudder.
Slowly, agonizingly, Devin forced the heavy doors apart. The rubber seals popped with a loud hiss. He pried them open just enough to create a gap a man could slip through.
Ferran stared at him, his dark eyes wide in sheer, unadulterated disbelief.
"What in the name of the Gods are they feeding you in that slum cafe, Ricky?" Ferran breathed, stepping quickly through the gap.
"Lots of protein," Devin grunted, slipping through the opening behind him and letting the heavy steel doors slide back together with a soft thud.
They stood inside the sprawling Aquatic Tech laboratory. It was an impressive, multi-tiered workspace filled with massive pools of pressurized water, heavy diving bells, and half-constructed submersible vessels.
"Colstar's bay is Number 7," Ferran said, drawing a small, focused luminescence crystal from his pocket to light their way.
They moved silently across the wet, grated walkways, completely ignoring the million-gold-coin technology surrounding them. They reached Bay 7.
Ferran held the glowing crystal up, illuminating Aiden Colstar's workspace.
It was a complete, undeniable joke.
The Prince of Colstar's submersible vessel was nothing but a hollow, rusted iron shell resting on a wooden cradle. There were no intricate runes carved into the hull. There were no complex pressure valves installed. The massive workbench was entirely clear, devoid of tools, blueprints, or even a single drop of deep-sea resin.
"He hasn't done a single hour of work on this," Ferran scoffed, his aristocratic disgust palpable. "He couldn't even install a basic ballast. The boy is a complete fraud. But he didn't do it, Zain. There's absolutely no resin here. He doesn't even have the tools to cut a line."
Devin frowned, his dark eyes scanning the pristine, unused bay. Ferran was right. Aiden Colstar was far too lazy and entitled to meticulously plan and execute a mechanical sabotage.
But Devin's venom-enhanced senses hadn't lied. The scent of the deep-sea resin was here. It was incredibly strong.
Devin turned his head, his nostrils flaring slightly. He followed the sharp, chemical scent across the grated walkway, stopping directly in front of the adjacent workspace.
Bay 8.
The brass nameplate bolted to the chain-link fence read: Shion Colstar.
"His cousin?" Ferran asked, following Devin's gaze. The Mortipian prince looked genuinely surprised. "Shion is a top-tier Aquatic. She's brilliant. Why would a noble from Colstar care about a Phrill-tier Frazer mechanic's engine manifold?"
"Let's find out," Devin murmured.
He didn't need to pry any doors open here; the chain-link gate was unlocked. They stepped into Shion Colstar's bay.
The difference was staggering. Shion's workspace was a masterclass in meticulous engineering. Her submersible was beautifully constructed, lined with complex, glowing blue runes and polished brass pressure valves. Her workbench was heavily stained and cluttered with highly specialized aquatic tools.
Devin walked directly to the bench.
There, resting carelessly next to a heavy brass caliper, was a specialized, curved exacto-blade.
Devin picked it up. The blade was incredibly sharp, designed for cutting thick rubber pressure seals. And clinging stubbornly to the metal near the hilt was a thick, hardened glob of deep-sea aquatic resin.
"Matches the residue on Karin's coolant line perfectly," Devin said, holding the blade up to the light of Ferran's crystal. "We found our murder weapon."
"But it makes absolutely no sense," Ferran argued, pacing the small bay, his hands running through his dark hair. "Shion doesn't need Karin's ignition coil. Her submersible is already fully operational. Why would she risk execution to sabotage a Frazer cycle?"
Devin's eyes swept the cluttered workbench. He pushed aside a stack of heavy, waterproof blueprints, revealing a small, velvet-lined drawer built into the desk. It was slightly ajar.
Devin pulled the drawer open completely.
It wasn't filled with tools or spare runes. It was filled with crumpled, tear-stained letters, highly personal journal entries, and several hastily drawn sketches.
Devin picked up the top journal entry, his dark eyes rapidly scanning the elegant, flowing script.
His blood ran entirely cold.
He doesn't even look at me anymore, the entry read, the ink smeared as if the writer had been crying. Aiden comes to my quarters in the dead of night, he takes what he wants, does what he wants to me and then he talks about her. He talks about the grease-stained peasant girl in the Frazer bays. He says her amber eyes drive him crazy. He says he's going to make her his. How can he prefer a filthy commoner over his own royal blood? I will not be tossed aside for a mechanic.
Devin lowered the parchment, a dark, suffocating fury rapidly rising in his chest.
It wasn't a calculated case of academic theft. It wasn't corporate sabotage funded by Cypris.
It was a violent crime of pure, unadulterated jealousy.
Aiden Colstar was secretly sleeping with his own cousin, Shion. But Aiden's twisted, lecherous obsession had predictably shifted. Just as he had obsessively lusted after Bridget, his perverse eyes were now locked entirely onto Karin. He had been harassing Karin in the bays, demanding her tech, just to get close to her.
And Shion, driven entirely mad by jealousy and the toxic, incestuous dynamic, had decided to simply eliminate the competition. She sliced the coolant line. She set the trap. She wanted Karin to burn to ashes so Aiden would have no choice but to look back at her.
"Read this," Devin said, his raspy voice trembling with suppressed rage. He shoved the journal entry into Ferran's chest.
Ferran took the parchment, holding his crystal close to read the flowing script. As the Mortipian prince read the horrific, pathetic confession, his face hardened into a mask of pure, absolute disgust.
"They're sleeping together," Ferran hissed, practically dropping the parchment as if it were diseased. "The Colstar royals are sleeping with each other, and when Aiden gets bored, Shion tries to murder innocent students to keep his attention."
The sheer, disgusting depravity of it all made Devin physically sick.
Aiden's sickness had indirectly tainted Devin's memory of his sister, and now, that exact same sickness had almost killed the brilliant, grease-stained girl that Zain Ricky loved. The Colstar royals were a plague of entitlement and perversion, destroying everything they touched without a single thought for the collateral damage.
"We have the blade. We have the motive," Ferran said, picking the journal entry back up and folding it carefully into his jacket pocket. The prince's eyes burned with righteous, aristocratic fury. "I am going to take this directly to Chancellor Thorne in the morning. I don't care about the political fallout anymore. Shion will be expelled and imprisoned, and Aiden will be publicly humiliated."
Devin looked down at the exacto-blade in his hand. The sharp steel glinted in the dim light.
Public humiliation isn't enough, Devin thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the hilt. Aiden shattered Bridget's memory. Shion tried to murder Karin. Prison is too kind for these monsters.
But Devin didn't say that out loud. He couldn't act like a feral Cyprian beast tonight. He had to be the cold, calculated assassin. He had to play the long game.
"Keep the journal safe, Ferran," Devin ordered quietly, slipping the resin-coated blade into his own pocket. "Let's get out of here before the pressure equalizes and the wards reset."
They left Shion's meticulous bay, leaving the physical evidence of her twisted, jealous heart behind. They slipped back through the heavy steel doors, and Devin pulled them completely shut, re-sealing the hydraulic lock.
They walked back up to the freezing, fog-covered courtyards of the UEI in complete silence. The uneasy alliance between the slum barista and the Mortipian prince had been permanently solidified by the shared disgust of what they had just uncovered.
"I'll handle the professors tomorrow," Ferran promised as they parted ways near the aqueduct. The prince offered Devin a look of genuine, absolute respect. "You did good work tonight, Ricky."
Devin gave a single, rigid nod.
He turned and walked away into the dark, his hand resting heavily on the blade in his pocket. Ferran could have his academic justice in the morning. But Devin Trangdar was already meticulously planning his own royal revenge.