Chapter 13: Performative

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Performative

Zoey picked up the remote and pressed a button. The image on the screen snapped backward, the jagged crater unspooling in reverse, the announcer’s voice squeaking in rewind. She let it run for a few seconds, then hit play.

"Wait," Jared said. "You don’t have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Restart it. I can catch up."

"It’s fine."

"It’s a waste of your time."

"It’s 50 minutes long. Going back 5 isn’t a lot." She tucked her feet under her and reached for the crackers. "Don’t make a big deal out of it."

"I’m not."

"You’re making a face."

Jared shut his mouth.

’Thank you.’ Zoey thought.

He didn’t say it. It sat quietly in his chest while the opening music swelled on the TV. He chewed his bread and stared at the screen, but his thoughts kept sliding sideways.

He had set the roof on fire. Not a little. Not a scorch mark.Half an hour ago he had stood in the yard watching smoke pour out of their home, and she had looked at him like he’d cracked something precious.

And now she was sharing her crackers.

’Why isn’t she still angry?’

He turned it over. He didn’t understand it. In the hospital, people stayed mad for days over a spilled cup of coffee. Zoey had forgiven him for a house fire in under an hour. Maybe it was a different kind of family. Maybe the original Jared had burned down worse.

He couldn’t leave it alone. He cleared his throat.

"Zoey."

"Shh. We’re watching."

"I’ve got to..."

She pressed pause.

The screen froze on a close up of a man in a gray cloak, mid sentence, mouth half open. The room went quiet. Zoey turned her head and gave Jared a long, flat look.

"See that?" she said. "I paused. I don’t want you talking while the documentary’s playing. So speak. And make it quick."

"Okay."

"I’m timing you."

"You’re not timing me."

"Starting now."

He took a breath.

"I’m sorry. For being irresponsible. I shouldn’t have been training that close to the house, and I should have thought about where the flames would go, and I could have hurt someone, and..."

"Shut up."

"I wasn’t done."

"You’re done." She turned back to the TV. "You’ll explain it to Mom and Dad when they arrive."

"I’m trying to apologize to you."

"I know. And I’m telling you I don’t need it. Save it for them." She picked up the remote. "And before you ask, no, I’m not going to cover for you. I’m not your mom."

"I know you’re not my mom."

"Good. Because I’d be a lot angrier."

She unpaused the documentary.

Jared slumped back into the cushions. He kept his eyes on the screen, but his mind was somewhere else, working through what had just happened.

’She’s right. It makes sense.’

If Zoey had burned the roof, it would have been a catastrophe. She was adopted. She was the one who kept the house together. Any damage on her watch would have felt like a betrayal, and she’d have been terrified to confess it. But Jared was a son. He was the one tied to the parents by blood. The rules weren’t the same for him, and everyone in this house knew it.

’And the parents.’

He reached back through the memories, the loose bundle of images and impressions that came with the body. A father who had once laughed so hard at a broken fence that he’d fallen over. A mother who had patted him on the head after he’d flooded the basement and told him to be more careful next time.

’They’re lenient. Very lenient. They’ll yell for about 10 minutes, and then they’ll forget.’

He was counting on it. He leaned back, folded his hands over his stomach, and let the documentary wash over him.

{As we know, Julius is on his first gate since acquiring the SS rank DragonSlayer Dragon.}

Jared frowned.

{I know. A dragon called Dragonslayer Dragon. We’ve all had the same reaction.}

’Why is that a name?’

[Because a man with no imagination named it.]

’Shut up.’

[I’m just agreeing with the narrator.]

On the screen, a sweeping aerial shot soared over a jagged landscape.In the distance, a huge shimmering gate hung above the ground, a vertical tear in the air, glowing.

{The gate is large, an A rank, one of the biggest of the season. The Golden Bear Guild has sent its B Team to clear it, led by one of its brightest stars.}

The footage cut to a tall young man in polished gear, standing at the edge of the crater, his cloak snapping in the wind. He had a square jaw, sharp eyes, and the kind of calm, easy smile that belonged on a poster. A massive, armored dragon loomed behind him, its scales gleaming like polished steel.

{Julius leads from the front. Yet while he does, he lets his teammates handle most of the lesser work.}

The footage showed a team of beast masters spreading out across the crater, their beasts pouncing on smaller creatures. A woman in green fought off a swarm of winged things. A man with a wolf tore through a pack of lizards. Julius stood in the center, arms crossed, nodding as they worked.

{He steps in only when the battle demands it. He wants his teammates to grow. To catch up. To become the best they can be, without leaning on him.}

"He’s so cool," Zoey murmured.

Jared glanced at her sideways. She was leaning forward with a cracker halfway to her mouth, eyes bright.

’She’s got a crush.’

[She definitely has a crush.]

{Julius believes in a united, strong team,} the narrator continued. {He believes that he alone shouldn’t be capable of dictating the tide of battle. A victory shared is a victory that lasts.}

The camera cut to a close up. Julius was speaking to someone off screen, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his expression serious and sincere.

"A guild isn’t one person," he said. "It’s all of us. If I’m the only one who matters, then we’ve already lost."

Zoey sighed happily.

{Currently, Julius is the strongest member of the Golden Bear Guild’s B Team. He has voiced his belief that the B Team should be as strong as the A Team, a bold claim in a guild known for its elite roster.}

{Yet despite repeated offers, Julius refuses to join the A Team directly. He has been invited time and time again. He declines every time.}

Another shot, this time a large banner hung in a polished hall, golden bear embroidered across a field of black. A group of well dressed guild officials stood in a line, shaking hands with Julius, who bowed politely, smiling.

{He says he would rather lift others up than step ahead alone.}

Jared chewed slowly. The bread had gone dry in his mouth.

He watched the screen. The calm, handsome face. The perfectly timed pauses. The footage of the younger teammates gazing up at their leader, eyes shining. Every shot looked like it had been planned, framed, and lit for maximum effect.

’That’s performative.’

He couldn’t help it. The thought arrived whole.

’It’s pretentious, too. Some guy who could join the best team in the guild and just says no, over and over, so everyone can see how humble he is. That isn’t humble. That’s a brand.’

[I agree.]

Jared nearly choked.

’What?’

[I said I agree. It’s performative. Pretentious. A man who turns down a promotion every month and makes a documentary out of it. He’s not lifting anyone up. He’s standing on a pedestal and calling it a stepping stone.]

Jared stared at the panel, then at the screen, then at the panel again.

’Wow.’

On the screen, Julius turned toward the camera and gave one last, perfect, sincere smile. A soft piano swelled in the background. Zoey hugged a cushion to her chest and let out a quiet sigh.

Jared leaned back, shook his head slowly, and muttered under his breath so only the system could hear.

"I can’t believe we agree on this."