"Explain," Novak said.
"Well, you’re already leaning toward that decision. And I don’t think your experience is leading you astray."
"My experience is screaming that we bury her."
"If it was screaming, she’d already be buried," I disagreed. "More likely, one side of your experience is saying ‘this is how we always handled it,’ while the other is whispering ‘you’ve never had this kind of opportunity before.’ Have you? Ever taken a demon agent alive?"
"Go on," Novak ordered.
"She still has the wheel?" I asked. "That’s confirmed?"
"Yes."
"The demon tries to take over — but hasn’t managed to, right?"
"Now that," Novak waved a finger, "is less certain. But no — he hasn’t. He only wakes up under external stimuli. When he does, it gives Rahman a meltdown. Headaches. Fits. She can’t control him. Can’t access his memories. So I fail to see how she’s of any use."
"Stimuli like... my ring?"
Novak nodded.
"Then stick some brainwave sensors on her and let her walk the school."
"Unsupervised?"
"You don’t have people for that?"
"Believe it or not, we’re short on people. And I don’t want my agents hovering around her all day. Might as well slap a billboard on their backs."
He grabbed his glass again, lifted it halfway... Then remembered the bourbon was already gone.
I fell silent. I didn’t like the idea of killing her, but yeah — this really was coming down to technical limitations.
"Can’t you just ship her off to Earth and dump her in a sealed bunker?" I asked.
"In theory... yes. Problem is, she’s seen a face."
"A face?"
"She tore the mask off one of my men. After she was brought to the ‘infirmary.’"
"And?"
"Once she’s down on Earth, I can’t control who she talks to — or what she says."
God, he was even more paranoid than I am!
I approve, though.
“Round-the-clock surveillance through the interface?” I offered. “Record all conversations and contacts?”
“Can’t do that through the interface,” Novak waved the idea away. “It’s designed to be unhackable. You think I’d be casually messaging you about Rahman otherwise?”
“I think anything built by people can be broken by people.”
“Well, we didn’t exactly build the interface,” Novak explained. “We yanked it out of dead demons’ brains and rewrote it for our own use.”
My jaw dropped.
“So I’ve got literal enemy software in my head?! What happens if there’s an invasion tomorrow and the demons tell us all to murder each other!?”
“It doesn’t work like that. They built an entirely new programming language just for it. And I don’t know the details either, so quit pestering me.”
“This still feels wildly irresponsible.”
“I stopped thinking about it. Everyone uses the interface anyway. You stop caring after a while. Spiritual roots, cultivation level, bottlenecks — used to be all guesswork, just internal sensing. Hitting the second stage in a year? Didn’t used to happen. Now we filter out everyone who can’t.”
It was too much. Way too much to process — especially when we were supposed to be discussing someone else’s life-or-death situation.
I forced my thoughts back toward Rahman. Her life was on the line right now.
My mind? Still mine, as far as I could tell. Well... hijacked or not, this body’s mine now.
Rahman. Focus on Rahman.
“Then go old-school — wire her up with electronics, paint her in formations, implant a bug under her skin, stick a micro-bomb in her spine!”
“You work in the Garden. You should know how well qi and electronics get along.”
I also wear armour that works just fine around qi — and raises its visor every time I so much as blink at it. It even has a formation that runs on qi. So yeah — it’s possible.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
"And with a demon in her head, she’ll make a much better lure than I ever could,” I said.
“Unless the one behind this thinks the transfer worked just as intended — and that you’re the demon.”
“If there are two of us, the odds go up.”
“Of success and failure both,” Novak replied mechanically. But I could tell — he was already on board. It was in his eyes.
I fell silent, hoping he’d come around to it on his own. Eventually, a smile began to creep across his face.
At first, I liked that.
Then he looked at me — and smiled wider. That smile didn’t promise anything good.
“I think you’re right!” Novak declared, stroking his beard. “Two is better than one. And I think I’ve got just enough people for this.”
He kept smiling, eyes locked on mine.
“I refuse,” I said. Didn’t even know what I was refusing yet, but I was absolutely sure I wouldn’t like it.
“You can’t,” he said, drawing a thumb across his throat. “Or else…”
“You said you wouldn’t kill me.”
“Not you. Rahman. You refuse — I bury her in the Wastes.”
I closed my eyes. Damn it. Got me there.
“Fine,” I sighed, pretending to give in. “Let’s hear this brilliant plan of yours.”
“You’ll be the one watching Rahman. Together, you’ll make the perfect bait — and, incidentally, a charming couple. Act like you’re dating. Take garden shifts together...”
The longer Novak spoke, the longer my face got. And the wider his grin spread.
“You’re taking the piss!”
“Not my intention,” he admitted. “But I won’t pretend I’m not enjoying this.” He clapped his hands against the armrests and stood up. “Anyway. I’m very pleased you talked me out of a murder. Good lad. Off you go now — I need to polish this plan a bit.”
Out of sheer spite — and because I wasn’t ready to give him the satisfaction — I didn’t move.
What reason could I even give for staying?
“Sir, I have some questions.” Yeah, couldn’t even hide the annoyance in my voice.
“Ask.”
Okay… what could I ask?
“The original Jake’s stuff. I’ve got an orange-grade technique — Stone Dart, first stage. I don’t need it, and I’m not even sure it’s real.”
“Pass it through Adam.”
“Not through Kate?”
“Don’t drag Kate into our business. That all?”
“No. There’s also a memory card with a locked password — needs cracking. And I’d like at least some info on this body, if that’s not too much to ask.”
“Adam will message you. Anything else, or are you going to invent another minor inconvenience?” He was still smiling.
“Can you get me 30 grams of Yellow Pine Blossom for ninety thousand? Crappy quality’s fine, just not complete garbage.”
“This for your doctor? Why is he interested in that garbage?” Novak shook his head.
Doc told me not to run my mouth for nothing — but this wasn’t nothing.
“He’s brewing a Qi Purification Elixir.”
“From Yellow Pine Blossoms?” Novak raised an eyebrow, then looked up, as if trying to recall something. “That’s not exactly a conventional recipe. And he’s using rejects?”
“Seems like it,” I shrugged.
“Call him. Ask what kind of flowers he needs — dried or fresh — and how much he’s willing to trade for one dose of the elixir, brewed to his recipe. Don’t mention my name, obviously.”
I did just that.
Doc froze for a second, then let out a deep sigh.
“Jake, this is a scam. They’re trying to con you. There is no elixir. I haven’t brewed anything yet.”
“Doc,” I said, locking eyes with Novak, “I think you misunderstood. My ‘contact’ is offering to give you the raw materials so you can brew it for him.” Novak nodded. “You can keep part of the flowers as payment.” Another nod. “He just needs to decide if it’s worth the trouble.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Who the hell is this contact? Are you working with drug dealers now? Jake, this is not worth it!”
“Doc, it’s fine. Trust me — it’s all legal.”
But Robinson wasn’t calming down.
“You told me yourself your ‘contact’ thought you were trying to get high!”
“That was a different contact. This one’s a respectable person.”
“Jake, if you’re in trouble—”
“Doc, for fuck’s sake! Do you want the bloody flowers or not?! I’ve got plenty of problems, and you being cryptic about everything is one of them!”
“Hey! Watch your tone!” he snapped.
“You’ve got a real chance here — don’t screw it up! How many flowers do you need for one dose of your miracle elixir, and what kind?”
He finally caved.
“I based my formula on dried green-grade flowers. You’ll need fifty — sixty grams, ideally — for a single dose.”
That’s a 150k minimum. Hell of an elixir...
“Fifty to sixty grams of dried green-quality,” I relayed to Novak.
He nodded and mouthed: “Fresh.” Then gestured for me to ask.
I asked.
Doc said he’d never worked with fresh flowers — in theory, they should be even more effective, and the fresher the better, but since they were heavier, he had no clue how much would be needed.
I passed that on to Novak, and he gave me a small wave — hang up.
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll call you back.” Click.
“I’ll give him seventy grams,” Novak said. “Let him brew the elixir. If the quality’s acceptable, we’ll talk regular supply.”
"I thought you didn’t stock that kind of thing. Thought all you had was orange and red.”
“You thought right,” Novak said. “This junk I’ll have to special-order. Should have it in a few days — tell your Doc the goods are coming. Seventy grams. I don’t haggle.”
He gestured for me to get up.
“That’s enough ego-stroking for one day. Off you go.”
Right. Except it wasn’t my ego getting stroked — he was the one walking away with a sweet deal.
Already on the metro, I dove into the interface and pulled up the elixir in the school store. Out of stock — but listed at 2,500 points. Which meant 250,000 units — not that you could actually buy it with units.
I glanced around — half-empty carriage, no one paying me any attention — and called Doc again.
“Alright, fess up. How badly did you rip off—” I almost said Vaclav. “—my contact?”
“Rip off?” he repeated.
“Come on, you don’t really need fifty grams for a single dose.”
“Depends on the quality,” Robinson countered.
“Look, he’s giving you seventy grams to test. If he likes the result, he’ll consider regular supply. And once he does — you owe me a dose.”
“And why the hell would I?” Doc snapped.
“Because of regular supply, Doc! You wouldn’t have a supplier if not for me.”
“I’m not looking for a supplier. I’m brewing this single dose for myself. For the Golden Core transition.”
“Um… Doc?” I asked, not really obviously what I meant — but he got it. He sighed and explained:
“The elixir only gives a temporary boost under normal conditions. To make it permanent, you have to take it right before advancing to the next cultivation stage.”
“Oh. Congrats, then.”
“For what? I only just broke through the second bottleneck. Still got a long way to go — just planning ahead.”
“Well, I doubt you’re planning that far ahead for no reason. And my contact — believe it or not — can legally source you all sorts of rare stuff. So if you need anything for the next stage...”
“Think he can get me a frostspider larva?” Doc asked, deadpan.
“No clue what that is, but I’ll ask.”
That made him chuckle.
Later, I looked it up. Turns out there was more info on frostspider larvae than on Yellow Pine Blossom tea. The spiders lived on Tarassa — another moon of this weird version of Earth. No atmosphere. Plenty of spiders.
Average larva price?
Four million.
Guess the insurance payout on my wiped memory wasn’t all that ridiculous after all.