Chapter 1694 (1/2)

During most of her complicated life, Claudette Beigon felt like she was sitting at the bottom of a pool, looking upward at the rest of the world. Sounds were muffled and the light was elusive. Everything was modulated and absorbed by the lapping waves of ‘otherness’ that swaddled her; even if she were to struggle and thrash, she couldn’t shake the surface of herself. She was powerless underneath the weight of her identity, but she could observe.

At least partially, through the strange and distorting substance of expectation around her. And so she watched, staring up at the warped shafts of light that made it down through the surface of her being to the observant core.

The first thought she remembered having was the realization that the reason the other kids were treating her so nicely was due to her father. Don Beigon cast such a long shadow that she was constantly swimming in it. His one-half influence over the coveted Alymian was a ubiquitous topic for everyone she encountered. They all complimented his management style. Everything that Claudette experience had to pass through his heavy existence to reach her.

Compared to her father, Claudette was very small in her own life.

As she grew, sent to the finest private schools in the Nexus and always excelling in tough conditions, Claudette did her best to escape that shadow. She threw herself into other things, desperate to be able to define herself. She forced herself to study and memorize until she was heralded as a genius. She strained her muscles and bled herself until she could thrash her instructors, earning praise as a combat maniac.

By sheer luck, puberty was kind to her. So for a while, she lost herself in the admiring eyes of her peers. She had become beautiful and everyone couldn’t stop talking bout it. They couldn’t stop talking about her, or looking at her, or squeezing and pinching her, or breathing heavily into her ear.

Yet she quickly discovered how hollow all these labels were, for two reasons. First, no matter how much of any one thing she was, she never escaped that first otherness that smothered her: father’s shadow. And second… these labels were just as ephemeral, meaningless, and numbing as being related to her father. All of them were pools, steadily allowing her ‘self’ to sink even deeper into obscurity.

At some point, Claudette wasn’t even sure why she struggled; she could no longer answer the question of ‘what’ her self truly was. It was a surprise to wake up each day and discover that she hadn’t drowned underneath all of it.

And yet… And yet-!

Claudette’s whirring mind paused as it took note of the changing expression on the face of the man opposite her. The expression was one she didn’t recognize. From the bottom of the overlapping pools of her identities, her self peered upward in interest. Very rarely did an existence like this appear, one she couldn’t understand. “...why are you making that face?”

The man called Randidly Ghosthound, the enigmatic Head Drill Sergeant with a knack for weaving Nether, closed his eyes and shook his head. There was something incredibly gentle about the movement. There was a considered ease to him now that Claudette hadn’t had the time to notice in the hectic battle in the Fifth Cohort. And weirdly, she couldn’t help but observe how long and lovely his eyelashes were.

Even more than his face, what truly surprised Claudette was his words. “...your father is selling you for his own benefit? I’m… sorry. I sorta also haven’t had… a great relationship with my father either, so… I get how rough that can be. I get the way it makes you feel. That you don’t matter, not really, not compared to what he wants until you are at all useful to him. Then he’s suddenly back and telling you that you’re being too sensitive… but of course you aren’t. You’re being abused.”

“Oh.” That self at the bottom of the pool suddenly felt quite seen. She lifted her hands but forget what she had meant to do with them. The feeling of being pulled apart and examined was uncomfortable. Claudette tried to recover by tucking her hair behind her ears, but her hair was already tucked behind her ears. She quickly hid her fingers beneath the table, hoping that Randidly hadn’t seen the mistake.

What the hell is wrong with me…? People talk about my father all the time. Get it together, girl. Claudette urged herself.

Claudette then cleared her throat and tried to get the conversation back on track. Some sort of childish fantasy of being seen was definitely not why she had come here. Even if it was the scent of a miracle that she was following. “It’s just the way my life has always been; I don’t really think about it. But what I was saying is that… the person who bought me is probably quite an influential individual in their own right. So you’d be offending them too.”

Randidly nodded slowly, still moving with such incredible control of his own body that Claudette was reminded of the gentle way that an animal would nudge her young awake to feed them.

“Then let’s talk benefits,” Randidly said, and Claudette flashed a genuine smile.

Benefits is my first and most proficient language. Claudette leaned forward, but she still kept her suddenly clumsy fingers beneath the table. “Well, given that you are the Head Drill Sergeant for this emergency draft and have so many connections with Military High Command… I can guess that money won’t tempt you. But, should you manage to successfully assist me to the point that I can defend myself, I will be your life-long friend and confidant-”

Randidly Ghosthound quirked an eyebrow at her, seeming to ask, Really, that’s all you’ve got?