“Davey boy, you whiffed it.”

  Cold night air whipped through the Expanse ominously as Sir Vu’s silhouette came into view. His magenta hair, which somehow had not been visible at all before, now manifested among the first rows behind the students.

  David fixed his eyes on him. The chaos caused by the pillar of light was still ongoing. Crowds were agitated by the supernatural event, and David felt as though he were losing footing, disoriented yet irritated at the same time.

  Sir Vu stood there, grinning slyly.

  “You whiffed it, David,” he repeated, loud enough for the man in question to hear.

  Then he moved, weaving easily through the shouting, filming crowds as he made his way toward the stage. Rosalyn saw him advance, but something about him felt off. His usual nonchalant, confident walk seemed more strained, his steps more careful. He looked oddly paler, contrasting with his usual healthy tan. His polished black designer shoes clicked sharply against the pavement.

  Sir Vu stopped before the stage, not mounting it, but facing David who stood above him.

  “Nice performance this was, Davey boy.” He smirked, fangs flashing.

  “Do you have something to complain about?” David asked, his expression ice-cold.

  Sir Vu shrugged. “Now why would I do that? As a performer myself, I can only express my appreciation for how entertaining this entire fiasco was. You certainly made the Memorial memorable.”

  He turned theatrically, gesturing at everything around them, his gaze flicking to Rosalyn still kneeling on the freezing ground.

  “Such devotion,” he added lightly keeping his eyes on her for a while longer, “to even make a girl’s shoulder bleed.”

  “What are you implying?!” David abruptly raised his voice, barely holding himself together.

  His words echoed through the Expanse, making many in the crowd turn back toward the stage, their attention abandoning the pillar as its light began to fade and dissipate.

  “She’s the cause of the wrath of the Dead with her foolish trespassing! She’s the reason we are all cut by shards of the broken vapor lanterns, why the Memorial’s Monument lost a tear! She is now suffering the consequences of all her crimes! The punishment that we imposed on her was rightful and necessary!” David shouted. Some in the crowd applauded or cried out in agreement.

  Sir Vu’s smirk slowly waned. He walked toward the Burden of the Fallen stone, which the officers had returned to its place at the base of the Monument, sidestepping Rosalyn as he passed. The leather straps were still attached to the stone. He touched one, rolling it between his fingers as he spoke.

  “I never took you for a devout man, David, but I suppose I was wrong. Your readiness to punish is admirable,” he said, pressing into the leather, noticing the dried stains of Rosalyn’s blood along the edges. “So is your over-preparation by the way. Nice quality leather. Custom-made, I can tell. Perfect size for the Stone, too. Do you carry these straps around with you at all times, David? Especially for Memorials?”

  Sir Vu looked up at David, sharply amused. David briefly lost his voice, standing motionless, spine rigid, staring at Vu with murderous intent. An eerie silence fell as the crowd’s full attention locked onto the two men.

  Suddenly David turned back to the crowd, his confidence flaring as he shouted:

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THIS MAN IS TRYING TO TWIST THE WRATH AND THE PUNISHMENT EVENT! BUT YOU WERE ALL HERE! YOU SAW EVERYTHING UNFOLD WITH YOUR OWN EYES! MY INTENTIONS WERE AND ARE CLEAN!”

  “Yeah, the chairman’s right!”

  “The girl was guilty!”

  “She deserved the pain and what’s to come!”

  “O’Neil restored order!”

  “Get out, you magenta peacock!”

  “Meddler! Manipulator!”

  The voices multiplied, merging into a chant as the mob rapidly agitated, backing David with aggressive fervor. His confidence swelled, and he smirked down at Sir Vu from the stage.

  Sir Vu surveyed the crowd in silence, taking in the hateful stares and spitting words.

  Rosalyn watched him closely when she suddenly noticed a flash of pale pink flicker in his hand rapidly. And the next moment-

  -he was planting a crystal cane into the ground with force.

  The sharp thud of the cane hitting the pavement rippled through the Expanse. An unseen pressure wave rolled outward, crashing through Rosalyn and the crowd alike, forcing people to close their eyes for a brief instant. The sensation was subtle, but unmistakable.

  When Rosalyn opened her eyes again, Sir Vu stood leaning on the cane, its pale pink crystal faintly pulsing. The shouting died down almost instantly. People gaped at one another in confusion, blinking as if waking from a lucid dream, drowsy, unsettled, asking what had just happened.

  David stared at the scene, breathing hard, chest heaving with vibrating rage. Sir Vu turned back to him, his expression unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted the cane and pointed it at David, holding it in the air as though David stood at the end of a loaded gun.

  “You whiffed it, David.” Sir Vu said calmly. “That’s the third time I’m repeating it. Now you’re going to listen to my proposition.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  David said nothing, but inside him something was detonating. Blood rushed to his face, the first color it had shown in a long while.

  “The physical punishment was more than enough. No further social punishment is needed. Why brand the girl forever? If you wish to keep face gracefully, you’ll settle for a temporary suspension, not permanent expulsion, alright? Wouldn’t that be such a generous and elegant ending?”

  “Why should I listen to you?” David hissed.

  Sir Vu grinned, fangs flashing, as he lowered the cane.

  “Because, Davey boy, I am your funder. Forgotten?”

  A flash of panic crossed David’s stern features as the implications struck him. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched but he gave a rigid, curt, nod. Strained. He then raised his voice in a flat announcement:

  “The trespasser’s social punishment will be revised.”

  He then left the stage, storming off through the still-confused crowd. Sir Vu’s green eyes followed him until he vanished. Then he turned to Rosalyn, who stared back at him, wide-eyed, heart racing, breath uneven.

  Sir Vu grinned.

  “Time to go, sweetheart.”

  ---------------------------------

  Sir Vu’s magenta Jaguar raced through the empty Arctar streets, dim streetlamps reflecting on the car’s polished body. Sir Vu was driving, Rosalyn sitting silently in the passenger seat, looking out the window. He glanced at her from the side.

  “I’m surprised you so easily agreed to my proposition. Very trusting, aren’t we?”

  “Because you’re Hope’s Chosen,” she answered calmly.

  He stayed quiet, not having expected this answer. His fanged grin returned smoothly, effortlessly.

  “What gave me away?” he asked, eyes on the road.

  “I saw you take out a crystallized trumpet flower, a Chosen's personal key, out of nowhere, right before you turned it into the cane. The flower was pink and pink is Hope’s color.”

  Sir Vu chuckled. Lifting one hand from the wheel, he opened his palm and said:

  “Show.”

  Instantly, the crystallized pale pink bloom appeared in his hand. Rosalyn gaped at it, her heart racing, and she instinctively reached for her jacket pocket where her own pale blue crystallized flower rested.

  “Hide,” Sir Vu commanded, and the flower vanished.

  He glanced at her. “You’ll learn this too, my fellow Chosen,” he teased. “By the way, considering how linked we’ve suddenly become, may I know your name?”

  “Rosalyn.” she answered, then asked quietly after a while “Was my choosing…very visible?”

  “The pillar of light from Humility’s plaza was certainly a spectacle. Aside from that, the discretion of the actual choosing matched humility traits pretty well. But yes… the price you had to pay for it was heavy. Nowhere near as light as mine…”

  His expression turned serious.

  “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’ll have you treated when we arrive. We’ll talk more then.”

  “…Why are you helping me?”

  “Why not?” he winked.

  She didn’t have time to reply before Sir Vu’s Jaguar came to a dramatic halt in front of a fancy skyscraper, huge neon blinking magenta letters spelling ‘VU’ on its top. Two gnomes in black sunglasses and magenta suits stood on either side of the luxurious entrance, utterly serious and motionless. Sir Vu was the only man on the planet to hire gnomes as bodyguards.

  Seeing Sir Vu enter, they straightened and nodded. Sir Vu grinned back and led Rosalyn inside, lightly touching her lower back to guide her.

  The interior was a luxurious mix of marble, gold, polished surfaces, crystal chandeliers, expansive furniture, and majestic indoor palm trees. Surprisingly, there was no magenta in the lobby or reception. Rosalyn looked around in awe.

  They stopped at the elevators. Sir Vu pushed a button to summon his private lift. As they stepped inside and he selected the top floor, an annoying jingle hit Rosalyn’s ears:

  “LALALALA, pow-de-ry milk! LALALALA, pow-de-ry milk! Shake it, sip it, scoop it, swirl! Every gnome-approved drop makes your taste buds twirl! LALALALA, pow-de-ry milk! LALALALA, pow-de-ry milk!”

  Upbeat, overly peppy, squeaky gnome voices sang this powdery milk commercial like a jolly mantra, on loop, random “Wohoo!”s punctuating the lines. This would easily drive any mildly sane person to obsession.

  Rosalyn furrowed her brow at this assault on her ears and glanced at Sir Vu. Strangely, he remained perfectly calm.

  “Quite soothing, isn’t it?” he asked sincerely.

  She didn’t answer.

  The elevator dinged and opened into a spacious, comfortable interior. Vu's penthouse. The centerpiece was a zebra-print sofa, floor-to-ceiling windows, a fluffy magenta carpet, and an electric fireplace. Despite its eccentricities - mirroring the man who lived here - it was tasteful and elegant, not at all cluttered. The ceiling soared high, with stairs leading to the first floor and a mezzanine above.

  “Welcome to my haven, sweetheart. Make yourself at home, as it will be your home for the next few weeks. I have five guestrooms upstairs. Choose whichever you like while I call my doctor for you.”

  He flashed her a smile and whipped out his phone, dialing. Rosalyn thanked him and made her way upstairs slowly. She wasn’t picky; the first room she entered became hers. It had a double bed and neutral beige tones. She smiled, thinking Sir Vu was quite considerate, guest rooms weren’t in neon or magenta, to avoid overwhelming or smacking his visitors with color. Everything was pristinely clean.

  She sat on the bed. Her shoulder truly ached despite her attempts to ignore and not show it. She took off her jacket, a hiss escaping through her teeth from the pain. Glancing in the mirror, she paled. The white, long-sleeved blouse underneath was soaked with blood on her right shoulder. She hadn’t realized the wound was that bad.

  Just then, a knock sounded at her door. She turned in time to see a female gnome with glasses and a mole on her chin step in, carrying a pouch of small doctor instruments.

  “Oh, glittering mushrooms and twinkling stars!” the doctor exclaimed. “What an astonishingly heroic gash this is! Please, do sit most regally as my deft fingers mend you wonderfully. No pain will visit you, and if a scar lingers, let it be your glittering badge of gallant valor! Now, with the delicacy of moonlight on rose petals, open wide and let forth a triumphant ‘aaaaaah!’”

  ...An hour later, the doctor descended the stairs. Sir Vu, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window with a sizzling drink in a crystal-thin glass, turned to her expectantly.

  “Well?”

  “She has fallen asleep, utterly exhausted, the poor darling. The bruise runs deep. The Stone’s cruel edges cut her shoulder blade, and shifting its dozens-of-kilograms weight onto her right shoulder only worsened it. I have treated her with all the care my miracle-working, nimble fingers afford. She is noticeably relieved now, though full healing will take tender time.”

  “Thank you, Amelia.”

  “It was my most great pleasure. I have such a soft spot for my future son-in-law.”

  “About that-” Sir Vu started.

  But she interrupted him, launching into a flowery monologue about weddings, fairytales, and bombastic family reunions, hands pressed to her heart and gazing up at him with starry, doting eyes. Sir Vu stared down at her, amused, his grin widening. He then placed an arm on her shoulder, guiding her to the exit and cutting her never-ending rambling short with:

  “Yes yes, I will definitely consider the marriage proposals your 27 daughters so kindly sent me. Have a good night, Amelia.”

  After she left, he smirked to himself, shaking his head, and finished his glass.

  ---------------------------------

  The scent of fresh dew and the delicate, balm-like sweetness of almonds caressed her awake. Rosalyn opened her eyes, blinking slowly. She wasn’t in her bed. No. She felt her back leaning against a wide tree trunk.

  Her mind still drowsy, she gazed down. She was seated on soft moss, the corona of the almond tree sheltering her above. And then her lucidity returned immediately, sleepiness gone.

  She was in the Abandoned Gardens! She still remembered the beautiful landscape vividly from her last wander there. She looked around, remaining still on her mossy spot, taking in the details. Mist lingered in the air, coating the space in an ethereal layer. She recognized the chrysolite vine tunnel and the sorrowful birch tree.

  Then she froze as she spotted movement. Beneath the birch tree, a figure stood, back to her, preparing something at the worktable.

  Rosalyn’s heartbeat suddenly leapt, and the familiar yearning slammed into her chest.

  “LV?…” she whispered.