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Chapter 63

HOPE ACADEMY (2)

Raj raised an amused eyebrow, his lips twitching at their expressions. "Why are you so surprised? If you manage to survive the war," he said casually, tapping the handle of a scorched blade, "as part of your benefits, you can request to join the Academy. If your contributions are high enough, they'll support you. Doesn't matter how average you are."

The room went silent for a beat.

Then both IAM and Kepa spoke at the exact same time, voices overlapping in disbelief.

Kepa: "What! But by the time this war ends, it could've been three years by then! We'd be like… twenty!" His face scrunched in outrage, like someone had just told him his childhood was being cancelled. "That's not fair!"

IAM: "Wait—there are actually benefits? At this point, I thought the boss had completely scammed me!"

The two of them froze, glancing at each other in perfect synchronization. The realization hit like a slow punch. Then their expressions fell into the same flat mix of disbelief and betrayal.

Raj gave a short laugh that turned into a rasping cough. He thumped his chest with one fist and cleared his throat with a pained grimace. "Actually," he said once he recovered, "you're allowed to join from the age of seventeen to twenty-three. So you'd be fine. And yeah, if you play a key role of some kind… they'll reward you with the right to request certain benefits. Things like that."

Kepa blinked, clearly taking it in. Then, for the first time since they'd entered, a trace of his old energy returned. "So that means you're too old to go, huh?" he said, smirking slightly—clearly trying to tease.

Raj gave him a flat look. "Are you sure about that?"

He set the tool in his hand down with a quiet clink and leaned against the table. "Actually," he said slowly, "I did go. I joined at nineteen. Graduated after three years."

Silence.

Then Kepa jerked forward in his seat like he'd just been electrocuted. "Seriously?! No way. How was it?" His voice picked up speed with every word. "Was it as good as people say? Were the teachers nice? Were the girls pretty? Wait—" he leaned in further, eyes gleaming—"were the female teachers pretty?!"

There was an audible pause.

One could practically see the sparkles dancing in his brown eyes.

Raj gave a chuckle that started deep in his throat. He leaned back with a sly grin, folding his arms as if savoring the moment. "I won't say anything."

"Whaaat? Why?!" Kepa's jaw dropped, his hands thrown up in exaggerated agony. "Come on, you have to tell me. Just one thing. One hint. Please."

"Unfortunately," Raj said, amusement flickering in his grey eyes like candlelight, "if you want to find out, you're gonna have to actually attend."

Kepa narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why? Are you not allowed to talk about it?"

Raj shrugged. "Nope."

"Then why?"

Raj tilted his head, smirking wider now. "I just want to piss you off."

"…"

For a moment, Kepa stared at him. Then, wordlessly, he lunged forward, trying to scramble up and over the counter to get to him.

Raj laughed, easily dodging the wild swats of Kepa's hand as the younger boy tried to grab his collar.

IAM, meanwhile, sat off to the side—silent.

While the two of them bickered and laughed and tumbled around the edge of the workstation, he just stared ahead.

His eyes were distant. Quiet. But his mind was anything but.

Hope Academy…

He couldn't help thinking about it. Wondering. If there was even the slightest chance he could get enough contribution by the end of the war to qualify. To earn a place. To be taken seriously. To find something concrete. Some direction.

He said nothing. But the thought burrowed itself into the back of his mind like a seed.

Maybe…

Just maybe.

They stayed like that for another hour or two—talking, joking, sitting in the warmth of company while Raj worked. There was a strange comfort in the way the forge hissed and the metal clinked. In Raj's deadpan sarcasm and Kepa's childish whining.

For a moment, it felt like a break from the rest of the world. Like the war outside didn't matter.

But eventually, that illusion shattered.

The door whipped open.

Regina stepped in, eyes sharp as razors, dressed in her hoodie that looked like it hadn't creased once in her entire life.

She took one look at Raj—his tired face, his twitching eye—and then at IAM and Kepa lounging like overgrown cats in chairs.

"He needs some rest," she said flatly, crossing her arms. "From the cannon fodder."

IAM and Kepa blinked.

"Damn," Kepa muttered under his breath as he stood, brushing imaginary dust off his hoodie. "Didn't even try to hide the insult."

IAM snorted, rising slowly to his feet. "Can't blame her. We've been here for hours."

They gave a brief farewell to Raj, who waved them off with a grunt and collapsed deeper into his seat. Regina stood by the door, unimpressed, until both of them were fully out of the room.

As they stepped outside into the hall, IAM squinted at the floor.

"Alright," Kepa said, stretching his arms behind his head. "That was fun while it lasted. What now?"

IAM didn't answer immediately.

He was still thinking about the Academy.

Still turning the idea over and over in his head like a coin he couldn't quite stop flipping.

"…Food?" Kepa offered.

IAM raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you eat earlier?"

"Doesn't count," Kepa said, already starting toward the direction of the food stalls. "That was a snack. This is lunch."

IAM sighed, but didn't argue.

He didn't have the energy to point out that it was already late in the day, or that he'd seen Kepa eat three portions the night before. Truth be told, he wasn't much better. He didn't know why, but no matter how big the serving, one portion was never enough for him either.

It was strange.

But at this point, nothing surprised him.

With a low sigh, IAM followed, his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the food area.

...

"Is it ready?" a voice asked, crackling softly through a walkie-talkie buried under layers of shielding—one that could not be intercepted by any standard Hold surveillance.

A pause.

"Yes," another voice responded calmly. "Basically done. But a few checkups wouldn't hurt… so, five days."

There was silence on the line.

Then: "Okay. Five days."

Click.

The signal cut.

A faint breath exhaled in the darkness. Cold. Measured.

"Five days, huh…"

The voice whispered into the stillness like it wasn't meant to be heard.

"In five days, I would have to goodbye to THE HOLD.