Chapter 230: 230 | Thin Walls Are My Achilles Heel

My phone buzzed. Group chat.

Misato: Bus in 40 minutes. Everyone better be packed.

Jordan: im dying

Misato: Die faster. We’re leaving on time.

I showed the messages to Belle and Naomi. Belle let out a long suffering groan and started collecting her scattered clothes from around the room. Naomi disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

I pulled on clean jeans and one of the shirts I’d bought yesterday. The dark blue v-neck that Aurora had insisted would "bring out my eyes." Looking in the mirror now, I had to admit she was right. The fabric sat properly across my shoulders instead of hanging loose the way everything used to before the weight started coming off.

Belle emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in my stolen shirt and her salvaged tactical pants. Her blue hair still damp, pulled into a messy bun. She looked at me and wrinkled her nose.

"You look good. I hate it."

"You’re wearing my shirt."

"And I look better in it than you would. That’s just facts."

Naomi came out next, back in her pink tank top and sleep shorts. Her striped hair braided over one shoulder. She glanced between us with a small smile.

"Are we ready?"

"No," Belle said. "But when has that ever stopped us?"

I grabbed my bag and the cores we’d collected yesterday. Made sure everything sat secure in the compartments. The silver boss core rested heavy in the reinforced case, worth more than anything I’d owned in my previous life combined. I ran through a mental checklist. Cores, check. Spare clothes, check. Leftover snacks from the convenience store raid, check.

We headed out into the hallway and found Jordan stumbling out of his room. He looked like absolute death. His hair stuck up in seventeen different directions, his eyes bloodshot, and he still wore his tactical pants from yesterday with a wrinkled t-shirt thrown on top.

"Morning," I said, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.

Jordan flipped me off.

Belle laughed and linked her arm through his. "Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you some coffee before Misato murders you for looking pathetic."

"Coffee won’t help." Jordan’s voice came out hoarse and raspy. "I think I’m dying for real this time."

"You always think you’re dying," Naomi pointed out, her tone gentle but amused.

"This time it’s true." Jordan let Belle guide him toward the elevator, his steps unsteady.

"If you throw up on the bus, I’m throwing you off the bus," Belle warned him.

"That’s fair."

We made our way down to the lobby where Misato waited with her arms crossed, looking fresh and alert despite drinking as much as the rest of us last night. She took one look at Jordan and sighed.

"Pathetic."

"I know," Jordan mumbled.

"There’s coffee in the bus. Get yourself together."

The bus sat idling outside, same driver as yesterday. We loaded our gear and climbed aboard. Jordan immediately claimed the back row and passed out again. Belle and Naomi took seats near the middle, leaving the spot next to Misato open.

I dropped into it.

"Morning."

"Morning." Misato didn’t look up from her tablet. "You three have fun last night?"

My brain stuttered. "What?"

"You, Fox, and Love. Our rooms are right next to each other. Walls are thin." She finally looked at me, her lime green eyes completely neutral. "I heard everything."

"I can explain—"

"Don’t." She cut me off. "I don’t care what you do with them as long as it doesn’t affect the squad. Which it hasn’t. If anything, you’re all performing better."

She knew. She absolutely knew about the buffs and the extractions and probably the entire milk vampire operation.

I tried again. "I just want to make sure—"

"Really. I mean it." She tapped her tablet screen. "You need advice about that stuff, find someone who actually deals with people outside of squad formations. My job is keeping everyone alive when we’re clearing gates. Everything else isn’t my problem."

The bus accelerated away from the hotel. Outside, Oakdale disappeared behind us. The landscape shifted to hills and vineyard rows stretching toward the horizon.

I checked my System.

Lifespan: 13D 10H

Points: 1,680

Level: 6 (450/6,000 XP)

The blowjob had registered as intimacy. The System counted it. Points for Belle’s mouth on my dick. The sexual training multiplier was stacking with everything else, compounding the gains from banked essence and distributed buffs.

My Technique sat maxed at B-rank, 10/10. Charisma hit C-rank, 10/10, ready to break into B. Even my Strength ticked up another segment from yesterday’s boss fight.

I was climbing. Fast. Way faster than the baseline lottery winner had any right to.

But something bothered me. The achievement notifications, the story quests, the way upgrades unlocked exactly when I needed them. Someone was managing my progression like a game master running a campaign. Like this whole thing was scripted.

I just couldn’t figure out who or why.

"Monroe."

Misato’s voice cut through my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Blair’s team placed second. Clear time was sixty-eight minutes, twenty-one common cores, one silver boss. Total payout was twenty-four thousand."

We’d beaten them by three grand and eighteen minutes.

"She’s going to lose her mind," I said.

"Already did." Misato showed me her phone. Text after text from Blair, each one angrier than the last. Demanding explanations. Accusing us of cheating. Threatening to involve her father.

The last message was just: This isn’t over.

"She can’t actually do anything, right?" I asked. "We won fair and square."

"Legally? No." Misato locked her phone. "Blair’s family has money and influence, but they can’t overturn FGRA results without proof of fraud. We didn’t cheat."

"But?"

"But Blair doesn’t need legal recourse. She just needs to make our lives difficult until we slip up or quit." Misato’s expression was flat, professional, but her jaw was tight. "And she will. Trust me. I know exactly how she operates when she’s pissed off."

"So what do we do?"

"Same thing we’ve been doing." Misato returned to her tablet. "Stay consistent. Keep performing. Don’t give her ammunition."