The trip to Vale… well, it could've been better.
Much better.
Incredibly better.
For example, an alternate scenario where I didn't spend half the trip negotiating with my stomach like it was an independent entity plotting rebellion.
—Don't do this —I muttered, pressing my forehead against the Bullhead window—. We can get through this together.
My stomach didn't respond.
But it clearly disagreed.
The turbulence didn't help.
The constant hum of the engine didn't help.
And the gentle swaying that, at first, seemed harmless… slowly turned into psychological torture.
Final result:
Four trips to the bathroom during the flight.
Two more right after landing.
—I hate this.
Bullheads might be technological marvels, symbols of progress, essential tools for transportation… but to me, they were torture devices with seats.
I rested my hands on my knees, breathing slowly after emptying my soul into a nearby trash can the moment I stepped off the Bullhead.
—Trash system… —I muttered—. Couldn't you give me some kind of motion sickness immunity?
It probably could.
But I was also pretty sure that something that useful, that practical, that necessary…
Would never be something people throw away.
Nope.
Once I recovered enough to walk without feeling like the world was tilted at a dramatic 45-degree angle, I regrouped with my parents.
They, of course, were perfectly fine.
Pure injustice.
—Ready? —my father asked.
—Yes —I lied.
And just like that, with my stomach completely empty, we headed toward northern Vale.
The city stretched before us like a strange blend of order and chaos. Busy streets, buildings of different sizes, people moving with purpose…
And me.
After walking for a while, we arrived at a school.
Apparently, they'd managed to secure me a spot nearby.
Well…
…the school.
I looked at it from the outside.
And my brain immediately made a comparison that didn't help at all.
Civilian school vs Huntsman academy.
…Yeah.
Not even close.
Huntsman academies were on a completely different level. Advanced technology. Impeccable facilities. Specialized training.
And then there was this. A functional building. A public school.
With a faint aura of "we're doing our best with the budget."
It wasn't bad.
But it definitely wasn't a Huntsman academy.
—Well… —I muttered—. Could be worse.
It could.
Probably.
The paperwork was quick.
Surprisingly quick.
Signatures.
Confirmations.
A couple of evaluating glances in my direction.
And done.
—You'll have a week before officially starting —the staff member said.
I nodded.
A week.
Enough time to…
Well.
Adjust.
Maybe.
The school year had only recently started, so I wouldn't be completely lost.
The school part, at least, had been relatively simple.
The more… emotionally complicated part…
Was seeing my new place.
We stopped in front of an apartment complex.
It was… functional.
We went up to the third floor.
My father opened the door.
And there it was.
My new home.
Silence.
—Well —my mother said, trying to sound positive—. It's a good size.
—Yeah —I replied slowly—. It definitely… has a size.
The space was small.
Not tiny.
But just enough that every piece of furniture looked like it had been placed after intense territorial negotiations.
A bed.
A small space that clearly screamed "microwave goes here."
A compact refrigerator.
And a bathroom.
That was it.
I walked around a bit.
Two steps.
Three.
And I had already seen almost everything.
…
—Okay.
Alright.
This is fine.
Totally fine.
I dropped onto the bed.
Somewhere in the middle of what I had imagined. Not the worst. Not the best.
I stared at the ceiling.
My parents exchanged a glance.
—It's temporary —my father said.
—And —my mother added— it's close to your school.
That was true.
Very close.
Close enough that I wouldn't have to rely on flying torture machines again.
Point in its favor.
—And the neighborhood is good —she continued.
I looked out the window.
Quiet environment.
Yeah.
—It's fine —I said at last—. I can work with this.
And it was true.
Because in the end…
It wasn't the room.
It wasn't the school.
It wasn't the trip.
It was everything together.
New city.
New life… literally.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
—Well… —I muttered to myself—. At least I'm not on the Bullhead anymore.
…Small victories.
Very small.
But victories nonetheless.
Next step: succeed in life.
After showing me around and handing me the keys, we headed out again.
I hadn't even had time to fully process that this small space was now my home.
But no.
No rest.
There was an agenda.
There's always an agenda.
—We're going to visit my cousin —my mother said.
We walked.
Not far enough to justify transportation.
But far enough that every step reminded me I wasn't in my old routine anymore.
New streets.
Different buildings.
People who didn't know me.
…Refreshing.
…and slightly terrifying.
We arrived at a building that, unlike mine, had… character.
Not exactly elegant.
But full of history.
The kind of place that felt like someone had lived there long enough to accumulate secrets, files… or problems.
We climbed a few steps.
My mother knocked on the door.
A few seconds.
Footsteps on the other side.
The door opened.
—Yes…?
The man who appeared had that… particular air.
Slightly messy hair.
Rolled-up sleeves.
Sharp eyes, like he was evaluating three things at once without effort.
—Arthur —my mother said naturally—. It's been a while.
He blinked.
Then smiled.
—Wow… I forgot you were coming today.
His gaze shifted toward me.
Stopped.
And then—
—You're little Jaune?
I didn't like how he said "little."
—I guess —I replied.
—Man, last time I heard about you, you were holding that "Help" sign surrounded by your sisters.
My soul left my body for a second.
—…
Okay.
No.
No.
NO.
That photo.
Why did it still exist?
Why did people remember it?
Why did the universe specifically conspire against my dignity?
I needed to erase that photo.
Erase it from the face of Remnant.
Burn it.
Bury it.
Delete it from collective memory.
Rewrite history if necessary.
—Come in, come in —Arthur said, stepping aside.
We entered.
The interior was… interesting.
Papers.
A lot of papers.
Files stacked in unstable towers that defied gravity out of pure stubbornness.
An entire wall covered in photos, notes, clippings, and lines connecting everything like someone was solving a massive puzzle… or slowly losing their sanity in an organized way.
Okay.
Definitely matched my mental image of a detective.
—I work from home most of the year —Arthur commented, noticing my stare—. More comfortable. And around this time, there aren't many cases… and the ones that come in are simple.
I nodded slowly.
That explained the controlled chaos.
Maybe.
There was a forgotten coffee cup in a corner.
I looked at it.
Then at the layer of… something on top.
…Didn't want to know how long it had been there.
My mother was already chatting with him like nothing had happened.
Fast.
Fluid.
Like they were resuming a conversation paused years ago.
I stayed a bit behind, observing.
Trying not to knock anything over.
—So —Arthur said suddenly, turning to me again—. What brings you to Vale? Your mother said you'd be living nearby.
—School —I replied.
—Huntsman?
The question landed naturally.
Like it was the obvious assumption.
—No —I said—. Regular school.
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Interested.
—I could've sworn that was your dream.
…Yeah.
It was.
Maybe.
At some point.
—I guess I grew up… or something like that —I said with a slight shrug.
Arthur crossed his arms.
Studied me.
That look again.
The one that reads between the lines.
—Well —he said at last—. Vale has its… things. What do you want to study?
I opened my mouth.
—He wants to be a detective like you —my mother said.
Arthur's eyes lit up.
Literally.
Like someone flipped an internal switch.
—Really?! —he stepped forward, visibly excited—. Wow, I never imagined I'd be someone's role model!
…I didn't have the courage to tell him that, until a few hours ago, I barely remembered who he was.
So I did the only thing I could.
I smiled.
Weakly.
—Yeah… well…
That didn't confirm anything.
But it didn't deny it either.
And at this point, that was enough.
—He'll be studying at a school nearby —my mother continued—, but we wanted to know if you could give him a job. As your assistant. So he can see how the business works.
Arthur didn't hesitate for even half a second.
—By Oum, of course! —he said—. I wish someone had given me a hand when I was starting out… everyone glorifies Huntsmen and forgets the rest of us.
There was something in his tone.
Not bitterness.
But… experience.
Like someone who knows what it's like to live in the shadow of something brighter.
I nodded.
Not entirely sure what I was getting into.
But, honestly…
That was becoming a pattern.
After some small talk —old stories, anecdotes I didn't remember, laughter that felt a little too natural— we said goodbye.
The air outside felt lighter.
More… normal.
We walked back.
Silence for a few minutes.
Then—
—Look, son —my mother said—. I want you to call us at least three times a week so we know you're okay… and we'll come visit at least twice a month.
That wasn't a suggestion.
—Ahem… dear —my father said carefully—. Our son might need some privacy.
—No. Not yet —she replied without hesitation—. And don't argue.
My father nodded.
Way too fast.
Traitor.
Then came more recommendations.
Brush your teeth.
Eat properly.
Sleep at decent hours.
Send weekly updates about school.
Look both ways before crossing the street.
Don't die.
That kind of thing.
I nodded to everything.
Because honestly…
It was easier than arguing.
Finally, we reached the building.
—Take care —my mother said, hugging me.
—Yeah.
—I mean it.
—I know.
My father gave me a firm pat on the shoulder.
Simple.
—Call us.
—Yeah.
And then…
They left.
I saw my mother turn back every few steps, still unsure.
I went upstairs.
Opened the door.
Walked in.
Closed it.
Silence.
I stood there for a moment.
Not moving.
Not thinking too much.
Just… being there.
My new room.
My new space.
My new life.
I sat on the bed.
It bounced slightly.
I sighed.
Long.
Deep.
Then let myself fall back.
I stared at the ceiling.
—…
No noise.
No voices.
No interruptions.
Just me.
And that small room.
—Well…
I closed my eyes.
—I guess this is real.
Because there were no distractions now.
No excuses.
No "later."
Really…
My new life started now.