CHAPTER 18~THE GREATEST PIECE OF FICTION 2
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The next day came fast.
But unlike the others, there was one difference.
Money.
Money everywhere.
The world smelled richer. The sunlight felt warmer, less judgmental. Even the air seemed to approve of my life choices.
Yesterday, we made ten silver coins
roughly one gold coin in total.
For a noble? Pocket change.
For me?
A revolution.
For someone who was originally destined to be crushed under a flying fatty and written off as background tragedy.
this felt like divine justice with interest.
I was no longer broke.
Not rich, but… solvent.
That was enough to taste victory.
So I decided to slow things down.
One chapter per week.
Quality over quantity.
Naturally, that announcement caused a riot.
When the rumor spread that there wouldn’t be daily chapters, the Academy practically start a riot
Students argued in hallways, begged in whispers, and a few particularly desperate ones even offered to sponsor production speed
I watched it all from a distance, oddly calm.
If things kept going like this…
If demand kept rising…
If the coins kept clinking
Then maybe.
I could cut ties with House Casper
before they even had the chance to kick me out.
I was leaning against a pillar near the lecture halls when Lucen approached. He wasn't flustered by the crowd, but he looked annoyed.
"They’re persistent," Lucen grunted,
But the air suddenly sharpened. The students nearby scattered, clearing a path for Elena von Hestia.
She stopped a few paces away. She was holding a small, crumpled piece of parchment Chapter three. Her expression was a mask of cold indifference
but I noticed the edges of the paper were slightly worn, as if it had been read more than once.
"Gray," she said, her voice a melodic chill.
Lucen stood his ground, his posture perfectly vertical. "Elena von Hestia"
"This... Novel," Elena began, her silver eyes scanning the corridor before landing on the paper in her hand.
She looked at it with a mix of disdain and something she was trying very hard to hide.
It’s a disaster. This 'Zoro' character... a swordsman with a blade in his mouth?
It is logically inconsistent, physically impossible, and academically insulting.
She stepped closer, her gaze flickering to me for a fraction of a second. A spark of suspicion cold and sharp hit me.
"And yet," she continued, her voice dropping,
"the writing has a certain... stubbornness. A refusal to accept the boundaries of the world. It’s the kind of delusion that usually gets people killed."
She turned back to Lucen, thrusting the parchment toward him.
It’s garbage. Absolute trash. But... I find the anatomical impossibility of the three-sword style to be a fascinating study in absurdity.
I require the next installment simply to document the extent of the author's ignorance.
She pulled a silver coin from her pocket bag and flicked it at Lucen. He caught it out of the air without looking.
"I expect the next chapter by next week, Gray," she snapped, her cheeks flushed a barely perceptible shade of pink.
She turned on her heel and marched away, her golden hair swaying with every aggressive step
Lucen stared at the coin, then at her retreating back. "Did she just... pay for next chapter
Pre-ordered,” I corrected. “Very aggressive customer.”
Lucen didn’t laugh.
Instead, his breathing was slightly off—just enough for me to notice.
"Louis," he said, clearing his throat. "Aria Asteron. She stopped me after the jog today."
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"She asked about House Gray's historical records," Lucen said, his neck turning a faint red. "
Specifically… how often our family engaged in information brokerage during wartime.”
I smiled slowly.
“And?”
Lucen hesitated.
“She said my explanations were… efficient.”
A pause.
“And then she asked if I had read the next chapter yet.”
Ah.
There it was
Lucen was quiet the rest of the walk.
That alone was alarming.
Lucen Gray did not go quiet unless he was calculating troop movements, casualty ratios, or the precise angle needed to break spine of someone.
We stopped beneath a tree near the lecture wing, the kind students pretended was “scenic” but mostly existed to hide conversations that shouldn’t be overheard.
“She asked something else,” Lucen said.
I waited.
Patience was a skill I had learned after realizing panic rarely solved problems—and often made them worse.
“She asked who the author was.”
Ah.
“And?” I said, keeping my voice casual, like my future wasn’t actively sweating.
“I said I didn’t know.”
Lucen frowned. “She did not believe me
She then asked a single question.”
His brow creased as if the memory itself required processing power
Does our plamber know about Devil Fruits?
I felt the air in my lungs hitch.
It wasn't a direct accusation nut Aria Asteron didn't waste words. She knew If Lucen was the distributor,
and I was the only person Lucen spent time with, the leap wasn't that large.
"And?" I prompted, my heart hamme
against my ribs.
"I told her I didn't know what she was talking about,"
I blinked.
Then nodded.
Good. Solid. Textbook denial.
“She stared at me for three seconds,” he continued Then she said—”
He paused again.
I did not like pauses today.
“—‘Interesting.’”
Of course she did.
“That’s her favorite word,” I muttered. “It means she’s already decided something and is now just watching
Lucen spoke again, this time in a voice so low I almost mistook it for my own thoughts.
“So… she’s been talking to me more frequently.”
I blinked. “And?”
He hesitated. “What does it mean? Every time I talk with her, I get that weird feeling again.”
I tilted my head. “Weird feeling?”
“The same one from before,” he muttered, avoiding my eyes.
“It’s like… my internal rhythm glitches. As if my heart’s trying to calibrate to a frequency it can’t reach.”
I stared at him for a moment. “Lucen,” I said, “you’re describing cardiac arrest.”
He ignored that. “I don’t understand why she’s wasting time on me. She’s a high-level noble, and I’m just…”
“…a guy who sells pirate fanfiction in the shadows?” I offered helpfully.
I shrugged. “Maybe she’s curious about you and novel is just a cover to get close to you
Lucan partially jumping with exitment
Said " really.."
“Or maybe she’s hunting.”
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial level that usually preceded a bank heist or a very bad idea. I patted Lucen on the shoulder.
"Listen, Romeo," I whispered. "Whether she’s hunting for a partner or hunting for a secret
the answer is the same Stay Efficient. Treat her like a high-pressure valve. If you give her too much information
the pipes burst. If you give her too little, the system clogs. Keep her encaged in the mystery of the 'Pirate King.' Keep her talking about Zoro's third sword.
As long as she’s curious about the fiction, she’s not looking at your heartbeat."
Lucen stared at me, his face a mask of tactical suffering. "You want me to use a fictional swordsman as a defensive perimeter."
And maybe her curiosity will change to something else
His face blushed
Lucen let out a breath
I’d rather fight a dragon its easier
"That's the spirit!" I slapped his back again. "Now, come on. We have a gold coin to spend
We went to the market district near the Academy. It was already crowded with students uniforms everywhere,
coin pouches clinking, voices overlapping in that special way only people with too much money and too little danger could manage.
I wasn’t there to browse.
Friday’s battle was coming, and for once, I wanted to be slightly less suicidal.
Lucen drifted toward the weapon vendors immediately, drawn by sharpened steel and disciplined craftsmanship.
I, on the other hand, headed for the smaller stalls the ones selling “experimental” gear that was probably illegal but not technically banned.
A hunched old merchant waved a charm in my face.
“For focus and courage, young master! Infused with phoenix feathers—”
I poked it.
“That’s chicken, old man.”
He grinned, missing three teeth. “Phoenixes are birds.”
I decided this conversation had reached its intellectual peak and moved on.
That’s when I found it.
A small glass vial glowing faintly blue. Subtle. Clean. The label read:
Reflex Enhancer (Student-Safe Edition)
Which probably meant it wouldn’t explode unless I sneezed too hard.
“How much?” I asked.
“Three silver,” the seller said. Then leaned in. “Four if you want it to work.”
I paid four.
Lucen returned a moment later, holding a new practice blade and wearing the exact expression of a man watching financial crimes happen in real time.
“You’re actually going to drink that during the fight?” he asked.
“Not during,” I said. “Before. Maybe.”
“You’re insane.”
I picked up one more thing—a low-grade healing potion. One silver. Cheap. Weak. Barely worth calling medicine.
Lucen frowned. “Why? The Academy provides free medical treatment.”
“This isn’t for healing,” I said, slipping it into my pouch.
He stared at me. “…Then what is it for?”
I didn’t answer.
He probably thought I’d finally cracked. But Lucen didn’t know what I knew.
Healing potion plus Reflex Enhancer. Mixed under controlled conditions.
A reaction no alchemist had documented yet.
A small, almost unnoticeable
but permanent increase in stats.
Not much.
But enough.
And in a fight decided by inches, that was everything
