The afternoon was glorious. Before goodbye, a little discussion remained.
"Yugo, who's your teacher?"
Mia asked what was unrealised on everyone's mind. There was no doubt about who the question was addressed to.
"Ms Sasui," Yugo answered, looking at Mia and Vesper.
"Old man Migu," Mia said answering Yugo's unasked question.
"Are they friends?" Vesper asked Dee.
"I guess," Dee answered with a shrug. "No one argues with Ms Sasui. And old man Migu is the most respected. They must be friends. Mr Yagi is good with everyone. He's the warmest like that."
Dee was smug. Unfortunately, her three new friends weren't very understanding. Dee's face fell and she decided she wasn't going to explain. It was their loss.
"Not very convincing," Vesper complained.
"So, what are you thinking," Mia asked, an expectant smile lighting up her face.
"We should be together," Vesper said, and the two girls agreed. "Let's ask."
Before Dee could ask, they had begun walking. Vesper was pulling Dee along, while Mia and Yugo followed closely behind. They walked to the teacher's lounge, where discussions were loud but well short of cacophony. As the four students entered, especially with three of them being first years and one of them being Vesper, there was silence.
Dee returned Mr Yagi's questioning gaze with one of apology. Yugo found Ms Sasui and looked conflicted. Mia was smiling at everyone nonchalantly. Vesper searched for old man Migu and ran over beaming.
"Old man, this is Yugo. Accept her."
No greeting. Nothing like a request. Almost a command. Everyone but Migu was confused. And then were all shocked.
"Sure," Migu said easily. "Yugo, would you be my student? I'm very good."
"Yes," Mia said, nodding vigorously. "The very best. Agree quickly."
"Oh yes," Vesper added, understanding Yugo's hesitation. "Old man, speak with Ms Sasui. Yugo's already accepted her invitation."
A teacher poaching another's student was frowned upon. Definitely wasn't something a person like Migu would ever do. Or so his peers thought. Today, was going to be unforgettable.
Migu looked at Sasui and directly asked.
"Give me Yugo, please."
Sasui was supposed to protest. Maybe even make fun of Migu. She wasn't one to shy away from speaking her mind, and her peers were so very certain they knew where she stood on the matter. They were in for another huge surprise.
"You owe me."
"Sure," Migu told her. He looked at Vesper and continued. "Done." Anything more, his eyes were asking.
"You're good," Vesper praised.
Migu beamed. "See you tomorrow."
Mouths hung open. Disbelief hung bright over faces. Not at the same time or with the same speed, but all eyes landed on Vesper's receding back. He was clearly the key to the mystery. What could it be about him that had old man Migu and the despotic Ms Sasui acting so differently? It was as if a switch was pushed inside of them. Sparks were dancing in their eyes and smiles were flashing on their lips. It was excitement at its most naked.
Vesper, the instigator of it all, was clueless. Byes were said and the four went on their separate ways home. Only now was he finally, truly alone. And could hold a serious discussion with the Vesper inside.
"So, what do you think?"
— About? School? Interesting. Girls, exciting. Migu, you know better. Us, very curious.
"Okay. Couldn't have put it better. You should take complete reign over words."
— Sure. That sounds like a plan. Leave me the mental tasks. You have the physical.
"Yeah. And, more importantly. Money."
— We have a black card. Actually, I think we have more than one. I saw them mentioned in the node. The tablet. I'm not sure how, but it's exciting.
"I don't know. Somehow, it just doesn't feel the same. Card. Money. I want money."
— I don't understand.
"We'll keep the cards. Use them. But let's make money. Our money. We need a job."
— I don't dislike the idea. What kind of a job?
"One that is entirely to our discretion."
— And makes a lot of money.
"Definitely. A lot."
— I can think of one, that for some reason feels to be what you're thinking about.
"Mercenary."
— Exactly. Mercenary. But we're thinking very different mercenaries. I just know.
"I'm thinking assassin. I'm very good at it. Killing."
— You must be. You do realise there are other ways to put your ability to use, don't you?
"Maybe. Killing's the easiest. And fun."
— Right. I'm thinking a data merchant.
"I'm sure that's easy and fun."
— Not the same.
"Of course. I'm also sure you've thought up how to go about."
— Yeah. Got the idea in the morning, while looking through the tab. We have a wide gate access to a virtual system. We'll know after looking how powerful a system, but from the look of things, must be considerably powerful. That means, we've definitely got a ready identity on the deep market.
"Let's look first, before drawing grand plans."
— Such a realist. Such a pain.
He was home. He reached for the tablet, fell onto the bed and let his fingers cast spells over the screen. Wasn't long before he was in.
The virtual system was actually more than just a system. It was built from processing power stolen from the thousands of individual systems spanning an extremely wide geographic area and that made up his grid. It was more than powerful enough to host a hub on the deep market, and that was an impossibly impressive feat. He had many access points to the deep market that were his but under different identities.
— We're all set for opening shop as a data merchant.
He was excited.
"Let's begin."
First, he created a new identity. Identified it as Vesper.
"Is that okay?"
— Sure it is. I'd like to see anyone making it to us.
He recognised the arrogance. It was all too familiar.
He didn't give the identity a history or feed it any information. It was a dark spot in the truest sense of the term. An absolute absence.
— It's the kind of thing that'll drive moosers crazy.
"Moosers?"
— A term for data merchants. Don't ask me to explain. It's just plain idiocy. And unmitigated laziness.
"Okay. So, what now?"
— Let's find an interesting job.
And that was exactly what he did. He joined the hub listing jobs for moosers. There were several parameters according to which the jobs were listed. He picked bounty. And looked only at the ten most expensive jobs.
— The seventh. A safe crack. Simple.
"What's a safe crack?"
— Just what it is. A code to be cracked. You really want to know?
"No."
— Good. Give me some time.
While one him completed the job, the other him tuned out. He thought back to old man Migu and Migu's inner energy. He had been intrigued back then, still was. He could finally give it the attention it deserved. Migu's reserve wasn't large, but the detail was truly fine. Being able to tear through and witness his inner energy was evidence of how truly wonderful Migu's cultivation was. Vesper was eager about tomorrow.
He felt a sudden urge to cultivate. It had been a long time since he felt it, and so it felt almost new. Wearing a wide smile, he concentrated on his breathing, he let go.
Farges hadn't had formal learning. He only had himself, and he could only think of letting go. Letting his inner energy grow unrestrained and formless. The result was that his reserve was massive, and his energy was omnipotent. It could be whatever he wanted it to be. Unknowingly he had stumbled onto an ancient and powerful and extremely dangerous school of cultivation. The side effect was that his personality became twisted. That was how Farges the demon was born.
As if by design, both the things happened together. The safe was cracked and he screamed in delight. His inner energy resonated with the energy of the outside, and he could feel all of the Citi gardens, he could feel the energy of every single person within the boundaries of Citi gardens. And that was without trying.
"I've grown stronger. Nice."
— Interesting. Interconnected ciphers within a nested cipher. Pav's box. Oh, he's going to be pissed.
"Will he come looking?"
— Oh, he'll look. But he won't come. We'll have to go. I like hunting.
"Great. So the job's done."
— Yeah. We earned a million credits. At a conversion rate of ten, that's ten millions Rups. That's real money.
"Yes. Real money is really the best."
— Alright then. Let's sign in our assassin. Name.
"Farges."
— History.
"Absent."
— We're learning. Nice. Look for a job?
"Not just yet. Farges isn't a simple, brainless killer."
— And there it is. Go on.
"Farges only kills the deserving. Farges sides with justice."
— Wait. Farges only means to play. Isn't that it?
"Well, Vesper's earning."
There was silence. Followed by a burst of laughter. It was true joy.