Chapter 368: Is This Illegal? I Hope So

The transport supervisor wanted us to pay for the presentation stand, the carriage brake and what he called damage to the brand, which appeared to mean Rex’s painted face had received more pink powder than it could wear confidently.

Lukas tried explaining that the carriage shouldn’t have moved when he pulled a bell. Unfortunately, he explained this while leaning against a post and thanking it for being supportive.

I took over before the post became a legal witness.

"Your handler said the carriage wasn’t part of the ride, and your equipment released it when somebody touched a cord beside the rider. We can discuss actual damage when everyone involved can finish a sentence."

The keeper agreed, with the practical authority of someone whose courtyard had acquired a second entrance without permission.

The supervisor gave us a morning appointment at the loading yard and left two workers to inspect the wrecked stand. He also took the crawler’s release token from the workshop, claiming the mechanic’s company account allowed them to hold it until the dispute was settled.

The keeper protested that arrangement. I asked her to keep the workshop receipt and the courtyard recording, because I preferred evidence to a midnight fight beside customers who had already enjoyed enough excitement.

Old Mate looked disappointed until Lukas attempted the stairs.

[System: There’s your entertainment, mate. He’s negotiated three steps and now he’s treating the fourth like it owes him a bloody apology.]

We got him into his own room, supplied water and left him with a basin positioned where pride would not obstruct its purpose. The older worker checked that he was settled, then told him they could discuss any further invitations when he knew which wall held the door.

He thanked her with surprising sincerity before asking whether the beetle had been upset with him personally.

She promised to let him handle that apology himself.

I went to my room and called Lyra through the brothel’s working relay. My internal phone carried her voice, while I paired the room’s guest screen and its built-in camera for the video. The camera showed her my room without inventing a new lens inside my body.

She appeared with a mug beside her and one of our cushions tucked against her arm. Seeing that familiar corner of the apartment made the day feel farther from home than the road had.

"Tell me why Cherry just received a video of Lukas firing hearts at a billboard."

"The short answer involved a beetle, although I appreciate that doesn’t make the rest sound better."

I gave her the full version, including my unhelpful encouragement before the ride. She laughed hard enough to set her mug down, then asked whether anyone had been seriously hurt.

"Mostly dignity, some equipment and whatever trust the town had in visiting spiders."

"And you?"

I told her about the sore pull along my side when I flew after him. There was no fresh wound, but she deserved the answer before I turned it into another joke.

She watched me for a moment, then smiled more softly.

"I missed having you interrupt my evening in person. It was irritatingly quiet without you asking whether dinner counted as an investment."

"That depended on whether you let me finish my own plate."

"You always looked happier after I stole some."

I couldn’t argue with that without wasting the call on a lie neither of us needed a skill to recognize.

She asked where I was staying. I told her, including the brothel, because changing the description to a specialist hospitality center would have made me sound like my uncles discussing a business expense.

Lyra looked toward the room’s reflected ceiling on my end of the call and asked whether the mirrors had come with the parking space.

"I had paid for two rooms and repairs, and I refused to take responsibility for the architect’s enthusiasm."

[System: Fair enough, you flappy leather belt. Nothing says innocent traveler like explaining a ceiling before anyone asked you to defend it.]

I ignored him and stayed with Lyra’s voice.

The conversation grew quieter, warm with the kind of teasing that depended on knowing each other well. She told me what she wanted when I came home, and I promised to remember without turning it into another grand speech. For a little while, the trip felt less like a distance and more like something we could talk across.

We kept the rest of the call for ourselves. Before we ended it, she showed me the ordinary space beside her on the couch, where my favorite cushion had stayed instead of being claimed by anyone else. I had expected to miss the dramatic parts of home, but that small empty patch hurt more than I wanted to admit. I told her so, and she stopped teasing long enough to say she understood.

When we finally said goodnight, I checked the route for the morning and sent Cherry the clean version of the carriage video. Bridget replied to the shared update with a simple question about whether the repair demand had been paid.

I told her we had an appointment, not an agreement.

The next morning, Lukas emerged pale but steady, carrying his own water and a very limited opinion of loud noises. He remembered enough to apologize to the keeper without being prompted.

The older worker invited him to share breakfast, then left any further plans between the two of them. He was sober enough to answer for himself, and I found several reasons to examine the town map at another table.

There was no new bond, no System payout and no reason for me to pretend I had witnessed a private conversation just because my friend returned looking pleased with his morning.

Before we left for the appointment, the keeper asked to see the notice the supervisor had given us.

She compared its number with a crew message on her terminal, then turned the screen toward me.

The same loading slot appeared beneath our appointment time, but its description listed one red winged serpent and one spider companion as live cargo awaiting collection.