[Volume 2 | Chapter 65: The Babysitter]

Morning crept into Acacia's consciousness like an unwelcome guest.

It was persistent and impossible to ignore.

The ceiling of his room, now familiar after weeks of staring at it, greeted him with that same blank indifference it offered every day. Memories of last night's dinner with the Scryers lingered like a bad aftertaste. He could still hear Rudyard's stern voice echoing in his ears. Acacia let out a long sigh, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to banish the lingering feelings of unease. He would have to deal with the fallout of that later.

The Scryer household.

Alaric's newfound abilities.

Leila's... justified anger.

The missing Modern Tome.

The thought of facing any one of them seemed daunting, let alone all together. And yet, there they were, refusing to be ignored.

"What a goddamn mess," he muttered no one exactly in the empty room, forcing himself upright with another groan. His body still ached from Pandora's relentless training regimen, muscles protesting even the simple act of existing. The clock on his nightstand read 6:47 AM—thirteen minutes before Pandora would typically burst in to drag him to the training grounds like a prisoner to execution.

Well, at least he was getting used to waking up early.

Perhaps if he dressed quickly enough, he could at least maintain the illusion of compliance. He grabbed a short-sleeved white shirt and black shorts from the drawer; they were comfortable enough for whatever torment awaited, yet also presentable to avoid her usual scathing comments about his appearance. Throwing them on mechanically, Acacia ran a hand through his perpetually disheveled curly black hair and steeled himself for another day of physical hell.

The house was quiet as he descended the stairs... far too quiet. Usually by this hour, Pandora would be in the kitchen reviewing case files over black coffee so strong it could dissolve metal. The absence of her customary sounds sent an inexplicable chill down his spine.

Then he saw her.

Standing in the foyer was the Second-Ranked High Inquisitor of the Divine Court in her "divine" glory, dressed in her full formal navy trenchcoat and silver cloak with a variety of complex embroidery rather than her training attire. That alone did not alarm him; it was the sleek leather suitcase at her feet that stopped Acacia cold.

She was leaving.

The realization struck him with such unexpected force that he nearly missed a step. Pandora glanced up at the sound of his stumble, her golden gaze piercing even at this distance. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"What... the hell is going on?"

The question tumbled from his lips before he could shape it into something less accusatory... and less revealing of the sudden tightness in his chest.

"Good morning to you too, Acacia. I was about to come wake you up."

Her voice was level, betraying no hint of emotion at his outburst or his state of undress.

Acacia promptly descended the remaining stairs with his eyes fixed on the offending luggage as if it might spontaneously combust under his glare. "With a suitcase? Where're you going?"

The faintest hint of a raised eyebrow at his possessive tone crossed her features whilst she straightened her already immaculate uniform cuffs.

"I've been assigned to investigate the Annerose Incident in Eichenstadt."

"Eichenstadt." The word tasted strange on his tongue. "In the Wallachian Empire. Where I'm supposedly from."

"The very same." She nodded, watching him with calculating eyes. "It's standard procedure after events like the telecommunications warehouse attack. The Divine Court needs to determine whether there's any connection between the Bloodhounds' activities and previous incidents of similar sophistication."

It made sense, logical and neat, like everything Pandora did. However, the timing felt wrong and utterly discordant.

"And you're leaving... now?" He struggled to keep his voice neutral, to hide that ridiculous feeling blooming in his chest.

"Three days, potentially four depending on what I find. Possibly the entire week." She lifted the heavy suitcase somehow gracefully, even without using Thaumaturgy. "I've made arrangements for your continued training in my absence."

Of course she had. Pandora Kircheisen wouldn't leave anything to chance, especially not her carefully constructed project. Yes, that's what he was, after all—a project, an investment, a pawn in whatever game she and Viceroy Bismarck were playing. Not someone who might actually—

You're being irrational, he chastised himself harshly.

"I would have preferred to inform you sooner, but the assignment came in late last night while you were at the Scryers'. How was dinner with the Iron General, by the way? You didn't explain much when you returned."

"Oh, it was great! I got along swimmingly with him!"

Pandora gave him a small, cryptic smile that sent an entirely different shiver down his spine.

Oh no.

"...It was tense. He asked a lot of questions about my background. About Eichenstadt, actually. Almost like he was testing me."

"And your answers?"

"Were perfect." Acacia's lips twisted into a humorless smile. "I'm an excellent liar when I need to be."

"Wasn't counting on you to be. I know how to deal with pesky men like him. Though, if you want to make my job easier, you'd do best to limit your contact with him as much as—"

A knock at the door interrupted whatever else she might have said. Three precise raps, evenly spaced, clearly from someone who respected Pandora enough to announce themselves properly.

The High Inquisitor checked the pocket watch attached to her belt and nodded to herself.

"Ah, she's early."

When Pandora opened the door, a woman stood outside.

The newcomer stood just under Pandora's height with a cascade of caramel-colored hair that seemed determined to escape the neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her uniform marked her as part of the Windsor Investigation Department, though the insignia on her collar indicated a much lower rank than Pandora's. Wide eyes darted between the High Inquisitor and Acacia, a constellation of freckles spreading across her nose and cheeks like stars scattered across warm earth. She clutched a stack of folders to her chest as if they might try to escape.

"High Inquisitor Kircheisen! Good morning! I'm not too early, am I? Haha! I can't believe it! Wait, am I'm not late or anything right? You said 7:00 AM sharp but I wanted to make sure I had time to set up anything you needed before you departed and—"

Acacia had to squeeze his eyes shut and mentally recite the alphabet backwards to keep from saying that out loud... as well as to keep the headache at bay. She was like Sirius Trafalgar on steroids.

Fortunately, the young woman caught herself mid-ramble, cheeks flushing as she drew a deep breath.

"I mean, good morning, ma'am. Reporting as requested."

Pandora's face didn't change in the slightest.

"Acacia, this is Assistant Inquisitor Noelle Lima. She'll be overseeing your training, activities, and ensuring you remain on schedule during my absence."

Before the Irregular could even begin to process said information, the newcomer outstretched her hand to him.

"You must be Acacia! It's such an honor to meet you! I've read your file from top to bottom, I know every detail about you, like where you were born and your height and your eye color and your birthday and your favorite food and your—"

"Assistant Inquisitor," Pandora interjected sharply, her voice slicing through the torrent of words like a blade through butter.

Acacia slowly looked at her.

Then Pandora.

Then back at her.

This was supposed to replace Pandora?

Pandora Kircheisen, the most dangerous person he's ever met, would now be temporarily substituted with an annoying woman, no, an annoying girl who acted like the human embodiment of a sugar crash.

Nope. He was not dealing with this.

"Okay then, good talk. I'm out of here."

He tried to leave, but Pandora's hand gripped his shoulder like a vice, effortlessly holding him in place.

"Not so fast, Acacia. We need to discuss your schedule with Assistant Lima."

"Oh, just call me Noelle! Everyone does! Well, not everyone, some people call me No or Elle or Nolly or Dead Last, but those are mostly family and childhood friends, so I wouldn't expect you to call me that yet, haha!"

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The hell kind of nickname is the last one...?

"...You're leaving me with her?" Acacia was utterly offended, looking pointedly at Pandora.

"Assistant Lima is one of our most promising recruits," Pandora replied smoothly. "She scored in the 98th percentile on her preliminary Inquisitor examinations and has shown remarkable aptitude for Enhancement Thaumaturgy, which makes her well-suited to supervise your physical conditioning."

"Stop bullshitting me."

Noelle's eyes widened, and Pandora's grip tightened on Acacia's shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't about my 'physical conditioning.'" After violently throwing Pandora's grip off, the curly-haired boy made sure to draw out the air quotes. "If it were, you'd have left me a schedule. Hell, you could have asked Bismarck or that flirtatious knight of hers to supervise."

His stare darted to the keys dangling from Noelle's trembling fingers. They were house keys, his house keys. He returned to Pandora with a renewed sense of accusation.

"But no. You needed someone to monitor me. You wanted to make sure the problem child doesn't wander off and ruin your precious plans."

"Acacia—"

"Admit it."

The High Inquisitor's golden eyes flashed with annoyance, but she simply returned to the "public" script.

"Assistant Lima has also been tasked with your safety in my absence. The Bloodhounds' attack at the telecommunications warehouse demonstrated that you're a target. I can't, in good conscience, leave you unsuper—"

"She has keys to the house!" He gestured sharply toward Noelle, who had started to shrink into herself and clutch her folders like a shield. "She'll probably sleep in the guest room too, won't she? How smart of you! A complete stranger with full access to your home, files, and me! What am I to you, exactly? Another case file to be managed? A liability that needs constant surveillance?"

Noelle's eyes darted between them, witnessing something she hadn't been prepared for.

"I-I can wait outside if you need a moment to—"

Acacia continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"I've handled myself just fine before you came along! That's been my entire life! I've been handling things on my own because there was never anyone else! The moment I start to think maybe, just maybe I don't have to anymore, you pack a suitcase and hand me off to some... babbling idiot!"

His chest heaved, breaths coming short and jagged. The room seemed too small suddenly, the walls pressing in, constricting around his lungs.

"Are you finished?" Pandora was dangerously quiet.

"No, I'm not! You don't get to pretend this is normal! You don't get to act like leaving me with a stranger is for my own good! You're monitoring me because you think I'll mess everything up the moment you turn your back, and you need your little spy—" he jabbed a finger toward the increasingly mortified Noelle, "—to report back every time I step out of line!"

"That's not—"

"Of course it is! That's what everyone does! They watch and they wait for me to fail so they can say, 'See? This is why we don't waste time on defects like him.' Well, guess what? I survived just fine before you showed up with your skills and your training and your—your—"

His voice broke. It betrayed him utterly. Acacia realized, in that moment, he'd said too much. Far too much. But he refused to back down. He was too far in his own head, too lost in the storm of emotions he'd kept at bay for weeks. He glared at Pandora, daring her to speak, to defend herself and dismiss his fears as irrational and unfounded.

"I-If I didn't have the «Re—"

"ENOUGH! Not another word!"

A deafening silence descended on the room, broken only by the sound of Noelle's folders hitting the floor. The young woman quickly scrambled to gather up her scattered papers.

When Pandora spoke again, it was like a scalpel slicing through flesh.

Utterly devoid of warmth.

"This is exactly why I need a hindrance like you to be monitored at all times."

Pandora held his stare for one more frigid moment before turning to Noelle.

"Assistant Lima, I've left detailed instructions in the study. Acacia's training schedule is non-negotiable. I expect full reports on my return."

Without another glance at Acacia, she picked up her suitcase, stepped through the door, and closed it with a decisive click that somehow hurt more than if she'd slammed it. Through the window, Acacia watched her slide into the waiting taxi. The car pulled away, carrying her toward Straiton Airport, toward Eichenstadt... anywhere that wasn't here.

He stood motionless as the taxi disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone with a stranger and the echoing emptiness of his own words.

Just like always.

If the silence before his tirade was suffocating, the aftermath was positively glacial. Unfortunately, that girl (Acacia believed she was called Noelle?) was still there and still making glances at him. Her eyes were wide and round and filled with a cocktail of fear and pity. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He didn't want her pity. He didn't want anyone's pity.

"So! That was—I mean—it wasn't—I'm really sorry about the keys! I didn't realize they would be such a big deal! High Inquisitor Kircheisen just said I should have them in case of emergencies, but I can totally give them back if that would make you more comfortable!"

Noelle shattered the silence like a hammer through glass, unnaturally loud in the quiet foyer of Pandora's house.

Acacia resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she babbled on; it felt like his voice somehow caught in his throat. The adrenaline was fading, and all he was left with was a hollow ache in his chest.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked flatly.

"Oh! Um, yes? Sometimes? When I'm sleeping! Although my mom says I talk in my sleep too, so maybe not even then!" She laughed nervously, then seemed to realize that wasn't helping her case.

The laugh died abruptly, leaving another awkward silence in its wake.

Acacia turned away and moved toward the kitchen. If he ignored her long enough, perhaps she'd dissolve into the ether like a bad dream.

"Wait!" Noelle followed along with dainty footsteps. "I know this is weird and uncomfortable and probably the last thing you want right now, but I promise I'm not here to spy on you or report your every move or anything like that!"

He didn't even bother to turn around.

"Hah, really? Then why exactly are you here? Pandora certainly didn't leave you to just count my push-ups."

"Well, technically that is part of it—I mean, monitoring your physical training progress specifically—but it's not like that!" She maneuvered around him, surprisingly agile, placing herself directly in his path. Up close, her freckles were even more pronounced. "Look, I know how it feels to be watched and judged all the time... having people waiting for you to mess up."

That stopped him momentarily. He examined her face, searching for the lie—the manipulation that surely lurked beneath the earnest exterior.

Everyone had an angle.

Everyone.

"Do you now?"

"I'm the first person in my family to enter the Investigation Department. My parents run a textile shop in the commercial district. When I told them I wanted to be an Inquisitor someday, everyone in the shop laughed."

She said it simply, like it explained everything.

"I worked three jobs to pay for tutoring, studied until I couldn't see straight, and scored high enough on the entrance exams that they couldn't ignore me." A note of defiance crept into her tone. I've done that every step of the way—worked harder, studied longer, just to prove myself."

He wasn't sure what to make of her story or why she even told him this. Was it a clever ploy to win his sympathy or a desperate attempt to find common ground?

"Great, so you're the poor poster child with the Cinderella story. Bravo."

"I'm not trying to make this about me! It's just..." She trailed off, searching for the words. "Look, I'm not going to tell you everything is fine or that you shouldn't be worried. I know you don't trust me, and that's... that's fair, but—"

"But telling me your sob story is supposed to make us best friends?"

"Of course not! I just wanted you to know that I understand feeling like an outsider! Like, High Inquisitor Kircheisen took a chance on me when no one else would. I owe her everything."

Ah, there it was. The real reason for her presence. Loyalty to Pandora. Of course.

"So you're here to repay a debt. How noble." He brushed past her, continuing toward the kitchen.

"That's not—" She huffed, following close behind. "Okay, YES, I'm grateful to her, but that's not why I agreed to this! I'm here because she thought I could help, AND because everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves—even grumpy, sarcastic, meanie boys who think they know everything!"

Acacia froze mid-step. Did she just—? He turned slowly, finding her standing with hands on hips, chin defiantly tilted upward in. The timid, apologetic demeanor vanished completely, replaced by a stubborn determination that was almost... impressive.

"I'm not going to pretend I know everything about you or what you've been through; I'm not that arrogant. What I am going to do is my job, which is to help you with your training and make sure you don't work yourself into an early grave trying to prove whatever it is you're trying to prove."

She took a deep breath, cheeks flushed from her outburst.

"Whether you like it or not, I'm here, and I'm not leaving. So we may as well make the best of it."

For several long moments, he simply stared at her.

This ridiculous, overly talkative, overenthusiastic girl who, apparently, had a backbone hidden beneath all those layers of anxiety.

It seemed that Pandora Kircheisen influences all those around her... for better or worse.

"You're... really annoying." He finally broke the silence.

Her shoulders sagged slightly.

"Yeah... I get that a lot."

Acacia sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if physically attempting to push back the migraine forming behind his eyes.

"Fine. We'll train today. No promises for tomorrow."

Noelle's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

"Really? That's great! I have everything planned out! We'll start with a warm-up run, then move to basic calisthenics, followed by—"

"Stop." He held up a hand, unable to endure another verbal avalanche. "Just... stop. Let me make breakfast first. I can't deal with people like you on an empty stomach."

"Oh! You cook? That's amazing! I'm terrible at cooking—once I tried to make pancakes and somehow they ended up both burnt and undercooked at the same time, which my dad said was a culinary achievement of sorts, though not the kind anyone would want to repeat, and—"

Acacia closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath through his nose as his fingers pressed harder against his temple. It was going to be a very, very long three days.

Or four days.

Or however long Pandora insisted on torturing him.

"Eggs," he interrupted flatly. "I'm making eggs unless you'd prefer your burnt-undercooked pancakes."

"Eggs sound perfect," she giggled. Her smile reached her eyes in a way that made the freckles across her nose scrunch together cutely. "For what it's worth... I think it's kind of nice that you care enough about High Inquisitor Kircheisen to be angry that she left."

Acacia turned away sharply, busying himself with gathering ingredients from the refrigerator. He wasn't going to dignify her baseless assumption with a response. He didn't care that Pandora had left. He was just... inconvenienced. Annoyed at the disruption to his hallowed routine. That was all.

"I'll set the table!"

The sound of plates and cutlery being arranged behind him created a strange domestic atmosphere that felt utterly foreign in this house. Pandora's idea of breakfast was black coffee and silence, sometimes with case files for garnish.

Since he was in the hospital for most of his first month in Windsor, he barely had the chance to experience normalcy and domesticity. But now, with this talkative girl around…

As the butter melted in the pan and Acacia added the whisked eggs and vegetables, his thoughts drifted back to Pandora. Despite his best efforts, his mind kept returning to her, to the look in her eyes when she'd slammed the door on him.

He couldn't deny it. It hurt.

It hurt because he knew she was right—he had crossed a line. His outburst was unwarranted, born more from his own insecurities than from any logical reasoning. His pride had gotten the better of him, as it so often did, and he'd lashed out. Now, he had to live with the consequences.

And the consequences seemed to be living with this... girl, who was currently chattering about the history of eggs while setting the table.

If this was some sort of "test" to train his ability to manage his emotions with his complete opposite…

This was her cruelest test yet, by far.

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