TORTURED ME, TO AWAKEN AS AN SSS DRAGON

Chapter 9

Rain tapped against the kitchen window in steady rhythm.

Lucia sat hunched over her cereal like the bowl had insulted her entire bloodline. Her hair was still damp from her morning shower, sticking to her neck in dark strands, and her eyes were half closed in the way that said she'd been up too late training again.

"You look like death warmed over." Dante grabbed a piece of bread from the counter and tore off a bite.

"I feel like death warmed over." She didn't lift her head. "Why is morning a thing? Who invented it? I want to fight them."

"You went to bed at three again, didn't you?"

"Two forty-five, actually. I was practicing blade transitions."

"Lu, you're going to collapse."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead." She finally looked up, squinting at him through the kitchen light. "Where are you going?"

"Association. Following up on something."

Gianna appeared in the doorway wearing her thick jacket, the one she saved for rain and bad news. Her eyes were on the street outside, watching water run down the sidewalk in crooked streams.

"Don't rush yourself." She turned to look at him, and the worry sat in the corners of her mouth like it had moved in permanently. "You just got out of the hospital three days ago. Your body needs rest, not errands."

"I'm fine, Mamma. Just checking on registration details."

"You're not fine. You're upright. Those are different things."

Lucia groaned and dropped her spoon into the bowl with a wet clatter. "Can someone bring me chocolate when they come back? Real chocolate, not that fake stuff from the corner store. The kind that costs too much and tastes like heaven died in your mouth."

Dante laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

"You're the best brother in the entire world."

"I'm your only brother."

"That's why you're the best. No competition."

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door before Gianna could add another warning to the pile she'd already stacked on his shoulders.

The taxi driver was old. Not old like Gianna, who worked too hard and slept too little. Old like the buildings downtown that had survived three wars and still stood crooked but standing. His mustache was thick enough to hide secrets, gray and wiry, covering his upper lip like overgrown brush.

"Association building on Saint Elias Boulevard." Dante climbed into the back seat and the leather creaked under him, cracked and worn smooth from decades of passengers.

"Saint Elias." The driver pulled into traffic without checking his mirrors. "You one of those Awakened kids?"

"Just registered."

"Registered." The old man laughed, and the sound rattled in his chest like coins in a tin can. "Back in my day, we didn't have fancy registration halls and glowing badges. We had monsters and dry bread and sticks. You fought or you died, and nobody gave you a certificate for it."

"Sounds rough."

"Rough doesn't cover it, boy. The Dungeon War in Year 55 nearly wiped us out. Whole cities gone in a week. Millions dead before anyone figured out how to push back." He tapped the steering wheel with one thick finger. "I was there. Saw it with my own eyes."

Dante did the math in his head. Year 55 was nearly two hundred years ago.

The old man was either lying, or he was something far more than a taxi driver.

"You don't look two hundred years old."

"That's because I take care of myself. Eat clean. Stay sharp." The driver grinned into the rearview mirror, and his teeth were too white, too straight. "You kids think Awakening makes you special. Wait till you meet the things that were special before the Mother System ever showed up."

The taxi stopped outside the Association building. Dante paid and stepped out into the rain without an umbrella.

Inside, the woman at the information desk was young and pretty and utterly bored. She stared at a hologram floating above her terminal, scrolling through messages without reading them.

"Excuse me."

She didn't look up. "Name and inquiry type."

"Dante Moretti. I wanted to ask about the assessment test schedule."

Her fingers moved across the hologram, pulling up files that flickered and rotated in blue light. "Next assessment test is in six months. Applications open two weeks prior. No exceptions."

"Six months?"

"Protocol only allows applications during official registration windows." She finally glanced at him, and her expression said she'd had this conversation a thousand times and would have it a thousand more. "You can submit a request for priority scheduling if you have guild sponsorship or verified combat experience, but without either of those, you wait like everyone else."

"Is there any way to expedite it?"

"Did I stutter when I said no exceptions?"

The words landed like a door slamming shut.

Six months. Half a year. An eternity spent waiting while Lucia climbed higher and the world kept moving and he stood still with a class nobody understood and skills he couldn't use.

"Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome." She was already back to her hologram before he turned around.

Outside, the rain had gotten worse. Fat drops that hit the pavement hard enough to splash back up, soaking his jeans before he made it ten steps from the entrance. No taxis at the curb. No shelter close enough to matter. He pulled his jacket tighter and started walking.

Then a hand grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey! Wait!"

He turned. The girl from the registration line stood behind him, wet hair clinging to her shoulders, water running down her face, and she was smiling like she knew something exciting was about to happen.

"You're the guy who stood up to those jerks." She was out of breath, like she'd been running. "I never got to thank you properly."

"You already thanked me."

"That wasn't proper. That was just words." She stuck out her hand. "Gia Castellano."

The surname hit him wrong. Castellano. That name lived in newspapers and guild rosters and government announcements. Old money. Real power. The kind of family that owned buildings instead of renting apartments.

He shook her hand anyway. "Dante Moretti."

"I know. I heard you at the desk just now." She grinned, water dripping off her nose. "Six months is brutal. I'd lose my mind waiting that long."

"Yeah, well. That's the system."

"Or," she said slowly, pulling out her phone, "you could skip the system entirely."

"What are you talking about?"

She didn't answer. Just scrolled through her contacts and pressed call, holding the phone to her ear. It rang twice.

"Nonno? Hi, it's Gia. Yes, I'm fine. Listen, I need a favor." Her voice turned playful, warm, the voice of someone who'd grown up getting what she wanted without having to beg for it. "Remember that extra Tower Key you mentioned last week? The one you said you'd give me when I was ready? I'm ready now."

Dante stared at her.

"No, not for me. For a friend." She glanced at him, still smiling. "He helped me out yesterday and now he's stuck waiting six months for an assessment test and that's just cruel, Nonno. You always said timing matters more than talent."

She listened. Nodded. Laughed at something her grandfather said.

"Perfect. Can you send it to the usual spot? Tomorrow works. Thank you, Nonno. I love you too." She hung up and looked at Dante like she'd just solved world hunger. "Done. You'll have a Tower Key by tomorrow afternoon."

"What?"

"A Tower Key. You know, the thing that costs more than most people's houses? My grandfather's sending one over." She said it so casually, like she was talking about lending him a pen. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Why would you do that?" His voice came out flat, suspicious. Tower Keys weren't handed out by strangers. They were negotiated by guilds, purchased by corporations, hoarded by the wealthy. They weren't given away by girls you met yesterday because you told two bullies to back off.

"Because you helped me when you didn't have to." She shrugged, but something lived behind her eyes, something that suggested she knew more than she was saying. "And because I like helping people who don't ask for it. Makes me feel useful."

"Gia, that key is worth millions."

"I know what it's worth." Her smile didn't falter. "Do you want it or not?"

He should say no. He should thank her politely and walk away and wait six months like everyone else who didn't have connections or money or a last name that opened doors. But his mouth said something different.

"Yes."

"Good." She glanced at the rain, at the empty street, at his soaked jacket. "Do you need a ride home?"

"I can manage."

"There are no taxis, Dante. And you're already drenched." She gestured toward the curb. "Come on. Let me do one more nice thing before you start thinking I'm some kind of lunatic."

An Astra Vantaria X9 pulled up to the curb. Silver paint with pale blue running lights and golden trim along the doors, the kind of car that made ordinary people stop and stare and wonder what it felt like to sit inside something that cost more than their entire lives.

The driver stepped out and opened the rear door without a word.

Dante climbed in.

The seat beneath him was velvet. Soft and dark and impossibly expensive, and the interior smelled like leather and something floral he couldn't name. Gia slid in beside him, shaking water from her hair.

He stared out the window as the car pulled into traffic, smooth and silent, and one thought rolled through his head on repeat.

What the hell just happened?