Chương 32: Chapter 31: Goodbye

Rellen took a sip of his tea and set the cup on the low table near them. He clasped his hands and sat quietly for a long moment, his expression thoughtful, eyes focused on the tea.

"That's not how I thought this conversation was going to start," he said finally.

"But okay." He leaned back, rubbing his jaw.

"Let me think." Tessa waited, her own tea between her palms.

"Your father's name is Wilson. He's around fifty years old now—maybe fifty-two. He moved from down south to the capital about twenty-five years ago. Though I'm not certain of the exact town. I didn't look that far." Tessa's breath stayed steady. So far, nothing new.

"He married your mother not long after arriving in the capital. You have an older sister, four years your senior. Her name is Mollie." Rellen paused, watching her face.

"Your father worked as a contractor on the expansion of the wall. Skilled stonework, mostly. He had a good reputation. Steady work, steady pay." Rellen's fingers drummed once against his knee.

"After your mother's passing, I believe—he stayed for about a year. Maybe less. Then he moved back down south." Tessa's throat felt tight.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Rellen said honestly.

"The records just show he left." He picked up his tea and took another sip.

"He's still alive. Still down south, as far as I know." Tessa took a moment, staring down at her tea. The liquid had gone still. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than it had been before.

"What about Mollie?" Rellen shifted slightly, his expression softening.

"Mollie worked in the Maker's Guild. She was a prodigy in the making—her blacksmithing showed potential to develop into something extraordinary. The kind of talent the Guild is always on the lookout for." He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"She left the capital around the same time as your father. Also heading south, but more southwest-ish. She'd been recruited for an expedition that wanted to map the region." Tessa frowned.

"Expedition?"

"Expeditions like that are... rare," he said.

"They cost a tremendous amount of material and manpower. Months, sometimes years of planning. The goal is usually to chart unexplored or poorly documented territories—find resources, establish routes, and identify dangers. That sort of thing." He set his tea down again, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on his knees.

"Crafters are always welcome on expeditions like that. They're the bones of the operation. Without someone who can repair equipment, forge new tools, and keep everything functional, the whole thing falls apart." Tessa tried to picture it. Mollie, out in some wilderness hammering steel beside a campfire. It didn't match the vibrant woman she remembered, the one who'd worked long hours at the forge and came home smelling of coal smoke.

"I found some documents," he continued.

"The Maker's Guild tried to intervene. They argued it would be a waste of her time and talent, that she should stay in the capital where her skills could be properly developed and utilized." His mouth twisted slightly.

"But it was dismissed, and she went anyway." Tessa looked up at him.

"Why?" Rellen met her gaze.

"I don't know. The records don't say." She sat back against the couch cushions, her eyes unfocused as she stared at nothing in particular. The pattern on the rug. The grain of the wooden table. The way shadows pooled in the corners of the room. That was it. That was far less dramatic than she'd expected. No dead bodies to collect. No tragic accidents or heroic sacrifices. Just... people who left.

"Did you know," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "that both of them just left me without a word?" Rellen went still beside her.

"Just a note. Said they were going on a job. That was it." She swallowed. Her throat felt tight.

"This is the first time in three years I've heard anything about them. I had no clue where they were or what they were doing. Nothing." She wrapped her hands tighter around her teacup, knuckles whitening. The silence stretched. Then something ignited.

"Three years," she said, and her voice came out sharp enough to cut.

"Three years of nothing. And now I find out they just—what? Decided to go play explorer? Take an expedition job?" She slammed her tea down. The cup hit the table hard enough that liquid sloshed over the rim.

"I thought it was my fault," she spat.

"For years, I thought I'd screwed up or was too much work, that I drove them away. I told myself that every day." Her hands twisted in the blanket, knuckles white.

"But no. They just left. Father went south to—what, grieve? Run away? And Mollie—" Her voice cracked with fury.

"My own sister went off to bang hammers in the wilderness for some mapping expedition?" She laughed, and it came out bitter.

"They couldn't even tell me they were leaving? Not a real conversation. Not an explanation. Just a fucking note.

'Going on a job.' Like I was—like I was some neighbor they barely knew!" Her voice was shaking with rage.

"And Father—he sold my slot at the Maker's Guild. My one chance to do something with my life, gone. He didn't even tell me. Just—gone."

"Tessa—" Rellen started.

"No!" She whirled on him.

"I was sixteen. Sixteen years old, and they just decided what? That I wasn't worth the effort anymore? That I could figure it out on my own?" The anger cracked, and underneath it was something rawer. Her eyes burned. Her voice broke with yearning.

"I tried so hard not to be a burden. To take care of myself, so she wouldn't have to worry after Mom's death. I thought that maybe..." Her throat closed off. She dragged her sleeve across her face, but the tears streamed on unimpeded.

"I had a plan," she spat out, and her voice broke completely.

"I was going to join the Maker's Guild. I was going to actually be something. And he just—he took that from me without even asking. And then left anyway!" A sob tore out of her, angry and aching all at once. She pressed her palms hard against her eyes, trying to stop it, but it was too late. Three years of swallowing it down, of pretending it was fine, of telling herself people just leave sometimes—it all ripped free.

"I hate them," she choked out, and she didn't know if she meant it or not.

"I hate that they left. I hate that they didn't care enough to stay. I hate that Father took my future and Mollie just—just walked away like I was nothing." Another sob. Her shoulders shook with the force of it. She felt a hand on her back—gentle, tentative. A soft pat, there and gone and there again. Something in her broke further. Tessa turned and threw herself against Rellen's chest, burying her face in his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him desperately, and she just cried.

Messy, ugly crying that soaked into his shirt. Rellen's arms came around her. He shifted on the couch, adjusting his weight, and she felt him sink back against the armrest as he pulled her with him. One hand settled between her shoulder blades, the other bracing against the couch to keep them steady.

"And none of them even came to check on me," Tessa choked out against his shoulder.

"Not one of my classmates. People I'd known for years. They just—nothing. Like I'd never existed." She sucked in a shuddering breath.

"Even my boyfriend didn't check. Not once. Not a single time in three years." Her laugh was bitter.

"We never even broke up. We just stopped talking." Rellen's chest moved with what might have been a quiet laugh.

"Do you want me to send a formal letter declaring your separation?" His voice was gentle, touched with humor.

"Make it official? With banners and all?" Despite herself, Tessa snorted.

"No. He's nothing more than dirt on the road. Not worth the effort." She tightened her grip on his shirt, another wave of tears threatening to spill over.

"And you—you left me too." Rellen went still.

"What?"

"On the bridge," she said, pulling back just enough to glare at him through tear-blurred eyes.

"We totally could have made it together. But you just—you just left and told me to go meet some asshole." There was a pause. Then Rellen laughed—awkward, caught off-guard.

"Was Jorran really that horrible?" Tessa pushed herself up slightly and hit his chest. Not hard, but insistent. Once. Twice.

"You need better friends," she said, punctuating each word with another light smack.

"Better colleagues. Better something." Rellen caught her wrist gently before she could hit him again. When he released it, her hand stayed there on his chest, palm flat against the fabric of his shirt.

"What—""Jorran didn't care at all about your possible death," she said, and the anger was back in her voice, cutting through the tears.

"At all. There was no backup for you. Nothing. If you'd died, he would've just—what? Filed a report?" She yanked her other hand back and swiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"He was so indifferent. Like your life was just—business as usual. Another risk in another job." Her voice cracked again, but this time it was less grief and more frustration.

"There would have been no one coming for you, Rellen. No backup. No rescue. Just... nothing. That's not how you treat someone you work with. That's not—" She stopped, breathing hard.

"He's horrible." Rellen opened his mouth, but Tessa wasn't done. Her hand fisted in his shirt, and she tilted her head back to stare up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Are all your colleagues like that?" The question came out small, worried.

"Is that just—is that normal for you? Because that's terrifying. You could die and they'd just—" Her grip tightened.

"I don't trust him. I don't trust any of them if they're like that. How are you supposed to work with people who don't even care if you live or die?" The tears were still there, but now they mixed with something else. Genuine concern. Fear, even.

"You need better people around you," she said quietly.

"People who actually give a damn." Rellen shifted awkwardly.

"He has his good sides," he said, and even he didn't sound convinced.

"Jorran is from... another time. He has his priorities clearly defined. It's just different—" Tessa scoffed. The sound was sharp, disbelieving.

"I know," he said quickly, then stopped. He let out a breath and pulled her closer instead of continuing the weak defense. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. She let herself be drawn in. Rellen had shifted fully now, lying back with his head resting in the curve where the armrest met the back of the couch. One of his legs stretched along the cushions while the other bent, his foot planted on the floor for balance.

Tessa settled into the space between him and the back of the couch, half-draped over him. Her head came to rest on his chest, just below his collarbone, and his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders. The blanket had half-fallen across them both. She fit there in the narrow space, pressed close against his side, her body angled toward him. He rested his face against the crown of her head, his voice quiet when he finally spoke.

"I know what you mean. I do. And I appreciate it. Truly." Tessa felt his chest rise and fall beneath her cheek. The steady rhythm of his breathing.

"This whole debacle has been eye-opening," he continued, his words muffled slightly against her hair. There was something raw in his tone now, self-conscious.

"I've been completely useless. The entire time."

"That's not—""No, I was." He said it firmly, but without heat. Just tired acceptance.

"At Outpost Vire, I just ran around blindly. At Veilcross, I would have died had someone not intervened. And today?" He laughed, but it came out hollow.

"I wouldn't have been able to do anything without help. Not one thing that mattered." His arm tightened around her slightly.

"I feel like I've been dead weight this entire year. Just... hanging on other people."

"Is that so wrong?" Tessa asked quietly.

"To rely on others? Isn't that what working in a team means?" Rellen hummed against her hair, a low sound that vibrated through his chest.

"That's true," he admitted.

"But I've never felt this outclassed before. Not like this." He was quiet for a moment, and Tessa just waited, listening to his heartbeat.

"I never had much interest in leveling," he said finally.

"Or becoming a better fighter. That was never... I'm not a fighter. I don't want to be one, truthfully." His hand moved absently against her shoulder, fingers tracing a small, unconscious pattern.

"Normally, I can just make a run for it. Get out before things get bad. And it's worked every time. Every single time." Another pause.

"Until I didn't want to run," he said, and there was something raw in his voice.

"Which I truly was not prepared for." Tessa shifted slightly to look up at him, but he kept his face pressed against her hair, not meeting her eyes. Instead, she settled back against his chest and let the silence stretch between them. She could feel Rellen's breathing evening out, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing.

"I'll request some people to look into the reasons your father and sister left," he said, changing the topic.

"And what they're up to now. I'll tell them to focus on the time after your mother's death until now." He paused, and Tessa felt him glance down at her.

"Is that alright?" She nodded against his chest.

"It'll more than likely take months," he continued. His hand resumed its absent pattern on her shoulder, grounding her.

"But they'll find answers. Real ones, not just records and departure dates."

"Thank you," she managed. The words came out small, but she meant them. Fully. Rellen patted her shoulder. The same motion he'd started with, but it felt different now. Less tentative. More certain.

"We'll figure it out," he said quietly. Tessa closed her eyes and let herself believe him. She was quiet for another moment, then spoke into the fabric of his shirt.

"Mariane offered me a position as her Artisan. Becoming a servant of hers or something like that." She shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

"She said she could raise me." She hesitated, then asked, "What do you think?" His eyebrows rose, and he was silent for a long moment, processing.

"From the sounds of it," he said slowly, "you would become one of her people who work in her interest. It's not uncommon for individuals with financial means to hire artisans directly. Personal retainers, essentially." He adjusted his position slightly, his arm still around her, but his expression was thoughtful now.

"Mariane is right that it's easy for her to raise an Artisan. You saw how many levels you jumped just by using one skill on Mariane's sword." He paused.

"Imagine you also had a hand in making her armor. How many more experience points could you have gotten from that?" Tessa hadn't thought about it that way.

"And House Blackwood often gets dungeons rewarded to them," he continued.

"Many chances for Mariane to kill things and get you levels. I imagine it would be a job where your skill and level would rise substantially." He tapped his fingers absentmindedly against her shoulder, thinking.

"Miss Mariane is a woman who's aiming high and not slowing down. It doesn't surprise me that she's building her own group and not relying on her House's people." There was something in his tone—respect, maybe. Or wariness.

"That would also mean it will be hard to quit," he added, his voice more serious now.

"You'll more than likely become privy to information that others would pay good money for. Things she wouldn't want leaving her circle." He looked down at Tessa, meeting her eyes.

"Once you're in, you're in. That kind of position doesn't come with an easy exit." Tessa groaned, letting her head fall back against his chest.

"It sounded too good to be true." Rellen laughed—a short, genuine sound.

"She'd probably be a good boss. Or at least someone who won't interfere with your private life too much." He paused, then added more seriously, "And Mariane is young. She still has a long life ahead of her. That you would join her on. Until death do you part, more than likely. At least that's how it often is with personal retainers, to my knowledge." She stiffened. She didn't like the sound of that at all. The finality of it.

Binding herself to someone else's ambitions for the rest of her life—however long that might be. Rellen noticed. His hand patted her shoulder again, gentle and reassuring.

"It's a big decision," he said quietly.

"One you should think about deeply before making any decision." She was quiet for a moment, then tilted her head to look up at him.

"Was becoming an investigator a decision you had to think about for a long time?" Rellen hummed low in his throat, the sound rumbling softly between them. For a moment, he seemed to consider her question as if it were heavier than she'd meant it to be.

"Not really," he said at last, a wry smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"If I'm honest, I kinda fell into it." His fingers traced an absent pattern on her shoulder where his hand rested. Tessa raised a brow, waiting.

"I always had this… thing," he went on, tapping his fingers against her shoulder.

"Couldn't keep my nose out of trouble. Or other people's business. If something seemed off, I had to know why. I'd stick around where I shouldn't, listen to conversations I had no right hearing, write little letters to whoever might fix it. Anonymous tips, that kind of thing." Her lips curved faintly.

"You were a busybody." He laughed softly.

"Yeah. And I wasn't even that good at hiding it. Got caught eventually. By the very person I'd sent one of those tips to." His eyes softened with the memory.

"Turned out he wasn't angry. He offered to teach me. That's how I ended up in the network."

"Just like that?"

"Didn't have much else going for me," he admitted.

"No real direction. No big dream to chase. Just… curiosity and a bad habit of asking too many questions." He smiled faintly, but there was something wistful behind it.

"Being part of the network—it gives me purpose. I get to see things change. It feels like it matters." He leaned his head back, gaze distant now.

"I believe the Empire can become something better. Not just stable or safe. A heaven, even. Under the Emperor we have now—it's possible." Tessa's stomach tightened. He really means that. She didn't know how to meet that kind of faith. The Emperor… she'd heard plenty. Too young. Too low-level. Wrong class for the throne. Whispers passed around markets and taverns like rumors of bad weather. None of it ever touched her.

When the late Empress abdicated so suddenly and her son took the throne, everyone had braced themselves for chaos—shortages, soldiers, some sign the world was shifting again. But nothing changed. The streets stayed quiet. Prices held. If anything, she thought, that's enough for me. She wasn't loyal, not like Rellen. But she was content. And maybe that was its own kind of faith, the quiet kind, born from the simple fact that life hadn't gotten worse.

Rellen must've noticed something in her face because his voice softened again.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to sound… preachy."

"It's fine," she said quickly. He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. Outside, the wind brushed against the glass, and for a while they just listened. Tessa pulled the blanket higher. She wondered if she was envious that he had someone to believe in, something to strive for. The warmth of the room settled over her like a gentle weight. Her eyelids grew heavy, the rhythm of Rellen's breathing under her steady and calm.

She tried to fight it—tried to stay present in this quiet moment—but exhaustion pulled at her with insistent fingers. The last thing she registered was the soft rustle of fabric as her head tilted. Then, nothing. Tessa woke to the muted sound of a knife against a cutting board. She blinked, disoriented, her cheek pressed against something soft. The blanket was tucked snugly around her shoulders, cocooning her in warmth.

Slowly, the room came into focus—the couch beneath her, the afternoon light slanting through the windows at a different angle than before. She sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap. Had she really...? Her face warmed as the memory surfaced: the weight of her head against Rellen's shoulder, the quiet rise and fall of his chest. She'd fallen asleep on him. Actually fallen asleep. Tessa pressed her hands to her cheeks. Was that weird? It felt like it should be weird.

Would he think she'd been trying to—what, make a move? The thought made her stomach twist uncomfortably. But no. That didn't feel right either. She replayed the moment in her mind, the way he'd simply let her rest without making it awkward. There hadn't been any tension, no strange undercurrent. Just... comfort. She exhaled slowly. Friends, she decided. That's what they were now. After everything—after ugly crying on him, after he'd shared pieces of himself he clearly didn't offer freely—they were friends.

She was almost certain he felt the same way. Right? The rhythmic chopping continued from the kitchen, accompanied now by the faint sizzle of something cooking. Tessa stood, folding the blanket and draping it over the arm of the couch. Her legs felt stiff as she padded toward the kitchen, drawn by the warm, savory smells wafting through the doorway. Rellen stood at the counter, his back to her.

The kitchen was alive with color and motion—vegetables in various stages of preparation spread across the cutting board, pans heating on the stove.

"Hey," she said softly. He glanced over his shoulder, and his face broke into an easy smile.

"You're up. Good timing." She moved closer, eyes widening at the spread before her.

"Did you... cook all this?"

"Yeah." He gestured with the knife toward the counter.

"We have a long day ahead of us, figured I use the ingredients the Academy has so thoughtfully prepared for us." A wooden bowl was piled with fresh greens and thinly sliced pieces of fruit and vegetables, all bright enough to look recently picked. On a ceramic platter, roasted vegetables glistened with oil, their edges browned, the aroma warm and inviting after a long day.

There were thick wedges of crusty bread, the kind that cracked when torn open, and a bowl of grain salad mixed with seeds and chopped herbs, each spoonful packed tight like someone had intended no one would leave hungry. Simple food, but prepared with care—more care than Tessa had expected.

"Rellen, this is..." She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish. Overwhelming? Thoughtful? Both?

"I like cooking," he said simply, returning to his work. He was dicing fresh herbs now.

"And I had the time." She felt her cheeks warm again.

"Sorry about that. For, you know. Passing out on you." He paused, meeting her eyes with that same steady calm.

"Don't be. You needed it." There was no judgment in his voice, no awkwardness. Just acceptance. She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Well. Thank you."

"Anytime." He scraped the herbs into a small bowl and wiped his hands on a towel.

"Come on. Let's eat before it gets cold." They settled at the small table near the window, plates piled with food. Tessa hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bite—the roasted vegetables were perfectly caramelized, sweet and earthy, and the grain salad had a brightness that cut through everything else. For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence. She broke a piece of bread, using it to scoop up some sauce.

"So," she said, glancing up at him.

"What's the plan for today?" Rellen finished chewing, then set down his fork.

"Someone will come to collect you later this afternoon. They'll bring you in for questioning." Her stomach tightened slightly.

"Questioning."

"Nothing too exiting," he said, his tone reassuring.

"They'll want your account of what happened—everything from when you first encountered the qube to when you arrived here. Just tell them the truth. You'll be fine." Tessa nodded slowly, pushing a vegetable around her plate.

"And after that?"

"You'll be released and escorted home." He reached for his tea.

"That'll be it." She blinked.

"That's... all?"

"Yes."

"But—" She set down her bread.

"What if I'm targeted again? What if whoever sent them tries again?" Rellen's expression remained calm.

"You'll have a hidden guard for an undetermined amount of time. Someone keeping an eye on you, making sure you're safe. You probably won't even notice them." He paused.

"They'll also likely ask you not to leave the capital for a few weeks. Just until things settle." Tessa absorbed this, turning it over in her mind. A guard. Staying in the city. It could be worse. Much worse.

"Okay. That doesn't sound too bad."

"It's precautionary," he said.

"But necessary." She nodded again, feeling some of the tension ease from her shoulders.

"I won't be able to see you off," he said quietly.

"I have very long days ahead of me. A lot to sort through."

"Oh." She wasn't sure why that stung a little.

"That's okay. You've already done more than enough." He met her eyes, and something in his expression shifted—became more careful, deliberate.

"There's one more thing." Tessa waited.

"During your questioning," he said slowly, "don't hold back when it comes to your experience with Jorran." Her chest tightened at the name.

"Much of this could have been avoided," he continued, his voice even but firm, "had he acted differently." Tessa stared at him. There was no anger in his face, but there was something else—something resolute. He wasn't just suggesting this. He was telling her it mattered.

"I..." She swallowed.

"Okay. I will."

"Good." His expression softened slightly. She nodded, her fingers curling around the edge of her plate.

"I'll tell them," she said again, more firmly this time. They resumed eating, with her mind already moving ahead, preparing for what came next. After a moment, she looked up.

"Where's our Rogue?" Rellen glanced at her.

"She already left."

"Oh." Tessa nodded slowly. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—maybe a goodbye, or at least a glimpse of the woman who'd helped save her. But it made sense. The Rogue had her own reasons for being there. Tessa was just a job, a task completed. Before she could dwell on it, a knock sounded at the door. Rellen set down his fork and rose smoothly to his feet. Tessa's pulse quickened as he crossed the room and opened the door.

Professor Moss stood in the doorway, his familiar face lined with concern and something else—weariness, perhaps. He nodded to Rellen, then his eyes found Tessa.

"Tessa," he greeted, his voice gentle.

"I hope you've had time to rest."

"I have," she said, standing from the table. Her legs felt steadier now, but her heart was beginning to race again. Moss offered a reassuring smile.

"Are you ready?" Tessa's gaze flickered to Rellen. He was watching her, and when their eyes met, he gave her a small smile.

"I'll take care of your clothes," he said.

"The ones you left here. I'll make sure they get back to you." She nodded mutely, her throat tightening.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Of course." There was so much more she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she just held his gaze for a moment longer.

"Goodbye, Rellen."

"Goodbye, Tessa." She turned toward Professor Moss, who stepped aside to let her pass. As she walked through the doorway, she couldn't help but glance back once more at the room, at Rellen standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her leave. She wondered, as the door closed softly behind her, when she would see him again.