As the world resolved around Vaeliyan, he blinked against the sudden brightness, the sharp tang of sterilized air still clinging to his tongue. He turned to Ruby with a slow roll of his shoulders, as if shaking off the last remnants of the simulation. "You know, I have a question for you. When I first came here, there was a Broken called Ettin who seemed to be... sentient?" His voice carried that lazy edge of curiosity, the kind that made it hard to tell if he was joking or if he'd been thinking about it for hours.

"Oh," she said, blinking twice before smiling, her eyes glittering like polished glass. "Uh, don't worry about that. That's more of a gimmick. We have somebody who uses a body mod that looks like a giant two-headed Broken, but it's not real. They like to lurk around the lower levels to scare new entrants. It's more theater than threat. Why do you ask?"

Vaeliyan tilted his head, lips quirking as if amused by her choice of words. "I just wondered if Broken could be sentient because I feel like when I... it's a long story. I don't know why I asked. I just thought I could get some answers now that I'm fucking done with this place."

"Oh, you hurt my feelings, darling," she said, placing a hand over her chest in an exaggerated swoon, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a grin.

"Ruby... the concept of this place was cool the first time," Vaeliyan said, dragging his fingers through his damp hair, his tone flattening into something bored. "Then I almost died, and everything after that was so boring I could barely bring myself to think about it. There was nobody of note. Everybody ran away from me. There was literally a kill night where I was the only one in there because nobody wanted to fight me. It was pathetic."

Ruby and Vaeliyan spoke in tandem, overlapping slightly as their banter tangled:

"Yeah... we should have probably thought about that after what you did to those poor people the time before," Ruby said with a laugh that was just a bit too bright, like cracked glass catching light.

"Did you really have to rip that man's head off and use his spine as a mace?" Ruby added at the same time, flashing a faint grin, as if she found the memory mildly amusing.

Vaeliyan shrugged, the motion slow and unbothered. "I thought it would be fun. He signed up for it."

"Yes, but the trauma gave a man a heart attack. You literally killed another man without even touching him," Ruby said, her voice dropping quieter for the first time, like the weight of it had finally caught up.

"That's fine. I thought it was supposed to be no-holds-barred," Vaeliyan replied, tone calm and unapologetic, as if discussing the weather.

"Vaeliyan, my dear, you are utterly terrifying and I love it," Ruby said with a grin, then added more gently, "but I don't think any other cadets will want to come down here if you are in this arena. Fear has a way of thinning attendance."

"That's fine. I won't be anymore," Vaeliyan said. He stretched his arms as if shaking off the weight of the entire place, joints popping softly.

"That's fair." She nodded, stepping closer and looping her arm through his as if claiming him for the moment. "Anyways, let's go get your prizes because there are some rather interesting objects you've gained, and I think you'll like them. I'm not sure if you want to see them now. We can see them later. You can go see your friends. Or get drunk. Or collapse. All reasonable options. Or maybe all three, in that order."

"No, let's just go see what you got for me," Vaeliyan said, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smile, though his eyes were still sharp and restless.

A gentleman in the background in a black coat, who'd been silent the whole time, finally moved. His shoes clicked like clockwork as he stepped forward, posture sharp as a blade, the tails of his coat whispering like paper. "All right, follow me, follow me, Lord Vaeliyan. I have gifts, commendations, prizes, fantastical things beyond your wildest dreams. Trinkets and treasures, curated and catalogued, every one of them a story begging for a worthy hand."

Vaeliyan squinted at him, blinking slowly like he was trying to dislodge the man from reality through sheer disbelief. "Who the fuck is that? And what's with all the theatrics?"

"Don't mind him. He's a bit silly at times, aren't you, Marcus?" Ruby said, giving the man an indulgent smile like she was humoring a particularly dramatic housecat.

"Well, whatever you say, dear Ruby," Marcus said with a dramatic bow so deep it nearly scraped the floor. His coat flared like the curtain drop at the end of an overlong play, and he stayed there, frozen in the pose, until Ruby waved him upright.

Vaeliyan sighed. "Okay. Let's just do this," he muttered, rubbing his face as he followed after them. "Buncha fuckin weirdos."

Vaeliyan turned and said, "Bastard, Styll, you coming with me?"

Styll scurried up and slipped into her usual pocket, and Bastard trotted along silently behind them, silver eyes catching the light.

Vaeliyan stepped through the archway into the room and stopped.

The chamber was drenched in warm light that seemed designed to flatter skin, and at its center stood a Ryan. Not just any Ryan. This one was sculpted perfection made flesh; the idealized masculine form dressed in a breathtaking cascade of shimmering fabric that clung like liquid light. The dress flowed with every subtle breath, paired with perfectly manicured fingers, immaculate lipstick, and a face that was both heartbreakingly beautiful and undeniably male. He was the most flawless Ryan Vaeliyan had ever seen. It was like staring at the concept of identity made manifest, honed and sharpened until it was dangerous.

Ryan's eyes found him instantly, locking on like a predator catching scent. They crossed the room in three languid steps, each motion liquid and precise, until they were so close Vaeliyan could feel their breath on his cheek.

Those perfect fingertips rose, hovering… then pressed against Vaeliyan's face. Slowly. Reverently. Like touching him was an act of worship. Ryan's pupils dilated, lips parting in something disturbingly close to bliss.

"Oh," Ryan whispered, voice trembling with hunger. "I must have you."

Vaeliyan didn't move. His jaw tensed.

"This is your first prize," Marcus said, his voice slick with theatrical reverence. "You will be added to a line of holos for future generations to watch, as you are going to be the next big action hero. Children will grow up pretending to be you."

Vaeliyan stared at him, deadpan. "Y'all can fuck right off. No fucking way I'm doing that. Get your hands off me. Don't you dare come near my face!"

Ryan gasped in mock offense, stepping back three deliberate paces with a flourish and a sharp snap of their fingers, coat flaring like a stage curtain. Their lips curled in a pout. "No, no. My face is my face. Nobody fucking touches it. Nobody gets it. Y'all can fuck right off."

Marcus tried to cut in, but Ryan silenced him with a raised finger and a slow turn of their head. "That's rather, ah," Ryan said, tilting their head, and their tone shifted to that honeyed lilt they used for business. "You must not understand. You will be famous."

"I don't want to be famous," Vaeliyan shouted back, more heat in his voice this time. "I just want to be me, and I want my face to be only my face. I don't want to see another me out there. Fuck that. You have no idea how weird it is that I see multiple people with the same face every fucking day. I hate it so much. I hate your idea of fashion. Y'all can get right the fuck away from my face. If this is what you have for me, I'm leaving."

Marcus twitched, but Ryan stepped forward like a shadow sliding over the light. The shift was instant. The facade of pleasantry evaporated, replaced with something colder, crystalline.

"Child," Ryan said softly, and every syllable carried the weight of ownership. "I am Ryan Ryan. I am House Ryan. You do not understand what you are giving up. I need your face. You must let me take it."

Vaeliyan's eyes went sharp. "If you try to take my face, I will blow it off before you get a chance. I don't give a fuck. I would rather die than see my face on anybody else."

Ryan's expression didn't crack, though the corners of their perfect mouth trembled for a heartbeat. Then they smiled again, all teeth. "Oh, child. Oh, my dear boy. Then we're going to have to do something else. How about instead of the face," they tapped their chin, eyes glittering like a predator's, "instead of that beautifully immaculate face, that face that is so... It's not even a... why are you so attached to the face of a body mod..."

Vaeliyan couldn't answer. His silence said everything.

Ryan clapped their hands once, the sound sharp. "It's fine, it's fine. How about this: the jacket. It's so blah, but it might take off if we put it on a mighty figure in a display of pure brutality that rivals what you've shown in the pits."

"I don't give a fuck about that. My face is the only thing I care about. You can go make whatever fucking jackets you want. My face is my face. Even my body mod face is my face. Don't you fucking try to take it."

"Fine," Ryan said, with the tone of a hunter adjusting their aim. "We will not touch it. But you won't get the incredibly lucrative contract that would have come along with it."

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"Contract, you say?" Vaeliyan asked cautiously.

"Ah, yes. It would have been a 33% royalty for every face swap that we did. Your likeness would have flooded every commercial corridor in whole of the Green."

Vaeliyan thought about the credits that would provide him, and for a fleeting moment he seriously considered selling his own face. He warred with himself, torn between his instinct to hoard wealth and his revulsion at being branded. "No. No, no. I don't need..."

"Thirty-three percent? Are you sure? I could go as high as forty-five with the right contract," Ryan said, eyes half-lidded with serpentine patience.

"No. No." Vaeliyan cringed as he wrestled with the temptation, warred with his own need for more credits. Even though at this point he was fairly certain he was richer than most cadets in the Citadel, he could always be richer. But no. "All right. What is this, is this everything you guys have for me? Because if it is..."

"How about we finish the deal for the yellow raincoat. It's already part of my collection. But if we put it on the right frame, we can make it a showpiece," Ryan said, trying to get a foot in the door that Vaeliyan had slammed in his face.

"The jacket is my signature look. I would like at least fifty percent."

"Oh child, it's a fucking jacket that I own the design for, I might add," Ryan said with a perfect laugh. "We'll give you five."

"Twenty-five," Vaeliyan countered.

"Six," Ryan said with a smirk.

"Ten?" Vaeliyan asked, a flicker of hope in his eye.

"All right, ten. Ten percent of the King in Yellow's official yellow jacket," Ryan said.

"Deal," Vaeliyan replied.

Ryan put out his perfectly manicured hand for Vaeliyan to shake. Vaeliyan looked at it, looked at Ryan, hesitated, and then put his hand out to shake. Ryan pulled him in and whispered, low enough that even Marcus flinched, "If you ever change your mind, here's my card. And here's how to contact me." Then they laid a kiss on Vaeliyan's cheek. They whipped out a mirror, and on the lipstick mark that was laid on his cheek was a call number to add to his AI.

Vaeliyan wiped at it. "That is so weird that you have your ID number embedded into your lipstick. How hard would it be to actually do that?"

"Oh, it's very easy, child. We can do all sorts of things with cosmetics. Would you like me to show you?" Ryan asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

"No. No, I would not. Can we please move on?"

"Fine. I am actually here to offer you some other things as well." Ryan twirled away like they'd just finished a performance. "Would you like to come with me? I want to talk to you about those gauntlets and leggings, those plates you made for yourself. We can do a deal on those. I don't know who would want them, but maybe they would want them for the fashion of it, just to get the full Vaeliyan of it."

Vaeliyan shrugged, exhaling through his nose. "Fine. I don't really care about those things. They're a little fun to use now and then, but I have better tools now that I have my Legion armor."

"Fair enough. We can discuss it while we're moving to the next room. Come with me."

Marcus and Ruby were already waiting at the door, and as Vaeliyan approached, Marcus gave him a little bow that was either mocking or respectful, or both.

Vaeliyan asked as they walked toward the next area, "So... how many credits do you think you're going to make off the jacket?"

Ryan folded their hands behind their back as they walked with a slow, predatory grace. "Well, it's hard to say. That jacket has probably only sold three or four pieces in the last month, so it's performing rather poorly right now to say the least. But now that it's the official jacket of the King in Yellow, we can market it as such, hike up the price, and the masses will flock to it. Projections place it in the low trillions of credits. Not astronomical, but substantial. It'll be worth the ten percent we're giving you. We're making almost nothing off it right now, so having it go viral, as they say, would be ideal. It could revitalize the entire line."

They passed through a corridor of glossy black walls lined with softly glowing holo-adverts, each flickering with half-formed clothing concepts. Ryan's eyes glimmered as they watched them pass. Their mind was already imagining Vaeliyan's silhouette over every single one.

Ryan turned slightly toward Marcus. "Actually, Marcus, the Spire will need to make a new design for the holos, won't they?"

Marcus nodded. "Yes. Without the face, it would be much more difficult." He clasped his hands behind his back.

Ryan's lips curled into a slow smile, greed glittering in their eyes. "I have an idea, my dear boy. How about we make the figure of the yellow jacket the only thing the audience sees? A blank, faceless King in Yellow. Rather than a heroic figure, make it ominous. Semi-villainous. Isn't that a great idea? We wouldn't even have to hire an actor willing to take on the face. We could get a bot to do it. You know how cheap that would be?"

Marcus nodded again. "Yeah. That would work. I'll get in touch with my contacts. We can get it all sorted." He was already scribbling invisible notes against his palm screen.

"Am I getting any credits for these holos?" Vaeliyan asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh yes, child. We'll get to that contract later," Ryan said breezily. "I will have to contact the Spire to see when their representative can reach out to you. Do you need a lawyer? I could offer one. It would only cost you a bare minimum."

Ryan cut themselves off with a delicate wave of their hand. "Forget the lawyer. They'll contact you. I'll probably negotiate the rate down since it will still be using my jacket. You'll get your ten percent of what the jacket brings in, compared to the thirty-three percent the face would have brought."

"But it's my story. Wouldn't I get more?" Vaeliyan asked.

"No. That's not how it works, child. The face is where the real money comes from. We would have been leasing your likeness. Since we're only leasing the jacket, you'll get ten percent of the jacket's profits."

They stepped through a sliding door into the next room. This chamber was colder, lined with polished stone panels and strip lights. At its center sat a glass display pedestal, glowing like an altar. Inside was a sheet of thick parchment edged with gold filigree, layered with ornate seals, wax stamps, and signatures from a dozen bureaucratic branches.

Marcus gestured toward it with a little flourish. "So. This is your next prize, and I think you'll be excited about this. Based on our research, you're having a bit of a kerfuffle with the power union, are you not?"

"Yeah. They keep trying to cut my power off. But they stopped coming a while ago." Vaeliyan stepped closer, the glass display reflecting sharp in his eyes.

"Don't worry about that anymore," Marcus said, tone bright with pride. "We're going to supply you with an industrial-grade zoning deed. It's a legal license marking your residence as industrial property, which means you can draw as much power as you need to run your work, and more. No oversight. No throttling. No surprise inspections."

Vaeliyan's pupils dilated. The parchment inside was physical. Real. A single, delicate thread of gold traced around its edges, humming faintly with embedded security circuitry. He leaned closer, breath fogging the glass. "That is... that is fantastic. I love this so much."

"It's not a weapons-grade industrial complex zoning licence," Marcus clarified, raising a finger. "You can build almost anything, but you can't sell weapons without going through Psyro-Glass. They're very proprietary about weapons, so you'd probably want a lawyer before you deal with them."

"Fair. I don't think I'll be selling most of my inventions. I probably won't be dealing with them at all, if I can help it," Vaeliyan said, voice still low with awe.

"If you can give us access, or at least tell us the model of the forge you're running, we can see if we can find you any upgrades for it. New technologies. Efficiency modules, maybe," Marcus offered.

"I'm actually not sure," Vaeliyan admitted, stepping back at last. "I just told my house to buy the most expensive one I could afford at the time. And I think I could afford most of them. I'm not sure if I could afford the best. I don't really remember. I sold the core of a disintegration cube to purchase it. So, as far as I'm aware, it was extremely expensive. But you never know with you people and what credits mean."

Marcus blinked, his eyebrows climbing. "You sold us the core of a disintegration cube. How in the world did you get your hands on one of those?"

"I refuse to comment," Vaeliyan said flatly.

Marcus studied him for a beat, then smiled thinly. "Ah. Never mind, then."

Ruby, who had been quiet at the edge of the room, tilted her head. "Don't worry about Marcus. He's just fooling. We don't care."

"We have another member of the Nine here who insisted on being here to provide you with the prize herself," Ryan said, their smile tightening. "We thought it would be easier to soften the blow with me first. Because although I know I am passionate, I'm not anything like that witch you're about to see. Don't trust her, child. I only care about credits. She cares..." Ryan almost spat, as if the word were sour, "She cares about family."

They turned their gaze on Vaeliyan, eyes sharp. "She would like to make sure that you are well provided for as you hold the name Verdance. I know what it's like to be a bastard. I myself only had one name when I was alone. So, I made my own house, and I take in those who are like-minded into my care. But Justinia... her pride for what she sees as hers is strangling. If you need protection, let's just say that House Ryan will offer to keep you safe from the clutches of the likes of her."

"Is this really true, Ruby? Are you just setting me up for more random bullshit?" Vaeliyan asked.

Ruby sighed. "Honestly, she's one of the deadliest women you will ever meet. And technically, you're related to her. She's claiming the right that you are family, and so yes, Ryan is telling the truth. You are probably going to be watched like a hawk from this moment on, now that your value to your family is obvious."

"What the fuck? Why didn't you tell me this before?" Vaeliyan said with betrayal in his voice.

"Vaeliyan, your family." Ruby raised her fingers into air quotes. "Have you ever wondered why the Legion only tells cadets and its infantry that they can eat only bug bars? It's because Justinia will not tolerate anybody in her presence who doesn't consume what she considers the perfect meal. Even if those things are nasty as fuck."

"Nasty as fuck," Ruby repeated in her perfectly elegant tone, the word rolling off her tongue with immaculate precision. "Those things are nasty, and you would not find me caught dead eating one unless Justinia was in the room and I had no choice but to eat because I was starving. She's scary when you actually get to meet her, and Ryan here is probably the softest power in all of the Nine who have any influence in negotiations. We could have brought in House Sarn, but we felt that it was better not to let them know you were taking the squad leadership from their heir."

"So... would you like to proceed?" Ruby asked softly. "She's probably been listening to this whole thing, and I'm not going to go in there. You may want to pretend like you like her. Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. Maybe she'll be a sweet grandmother to you. I'm not part of her family, and she's very much a cruel witch that I never want to speak to again if I can help it."

There was a shifting in the other room, the sound like nails tearing through metal.

Ruby smiled faintly. "Oh well. After this, the door to your left will take you to the elevator and you can leave. Good luck. Goodbye. I will truly miss seeing your spectacular showmanship in the pit. It will be missed."

She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "If you ever want to come back, we will always be willing to provide entertainment to the masses with a good showing of the King in Yellow. Take care, my dear."

Both Marcus and Ruby walked away. Ryan and Vaeliyan looked at the door.

"Don't worry," Ryan said. "We can do this together if you want."

"Honestly, Ryan, you are just as terrifying to me as they made her sound, and I feel like maybe I should just meet her. I don't know. I know nothing about you people. I wasn't born anywhere near here. I don't even really know my own family. So maybe I just go in and see what it's like. I have a cousin and she's wonderful. I have, I think, an aunt who is scary as fuck, but she is also nice at times. So, the two family members that I have met, the two members of House Verdance that I know personally, have been pretty cool."

Ryan tilted their head. "And your aunt Lisa... I wouldn't call Lisa your aunt. Maybe a distant cousin. She is a true Verdance. Well, honestly, if you do join, you will be part of the main house. So, I'm not sure what that would make you. Maybe aunt is the correct term. But Vaeliyan, you do not know this woman. I do. And I'm telling you... this is a trap. Are you sure you are willing to walk into it?"

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