SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Trafalgar and Caelum remained alone at the table after Selara left.

For a while, neither of them moved. The café around them continued with its polished rhythm, waiters gliding between distant tables, cups chiming softly against saucers, and expensive conversations passing through the terrace without ever becoming loud enough to be considered rude.

Trafalgar was the first to speak.

”A perfect job, Caelum,” he said, his fingers resting around the coffee cup. ”Now we only need to wait and see if Director Selara has any luck with her part as well. Although I would like to ask you something. Do you think there could be a large-scale fight if things get out of control?”

Caelum, wearing Orven von Halbrecht’s face with insulting precision, kept both gloved hands folded on the table. The disguise had not loosened. The posture, the ring, the faint irritation in the brow, the older weight in the shoulders - all of it remained intact.

”That is always possible, young master,” Caelum replied. ”As you know, Director Selara’s master was not an ordinary man. Experiments with different races, his judgment after what he did involving House Vaelion, and his willingness to cross lines most researchers would fear to approach… none of that points to a sane person. If we capture him, he will likely refuse to answer directly. In that case, I may have to use my abilities to make him speak.”

Trafalgar did not answer immediately. The coffee had cooled, but he lifted it anyway and took a slow sip. Bitter. Still useful.

”Right. You mentioned those abilities before,” he said. ”I hope we don’t have to rely on them, but if it comes to that, I’ll be present. I need to hear what he says myself.”

”If there is any information connected to the Void Creatures, this becomes a larger and far more dangerous issue, young master.”

”It does,” Trafalgar said. ”But that is exactly why we need to know. Why would someone like him accept that work? Why help with something involving Void Creatures at all? And if the Vaelion are connected to this in some way, then the situation becomes much worse.”

”Without a doubt, young master.”

Trafalgar’s attention shifted across the terrace, not toward anything specific, but through habit. Open spaces, staff movement, exits, passersby. After the train, Aurevane’s polite surface did not feel any more trustworthy than a knife with a ribbon tied around the handle.

He lowered the cup again.

”By the way, any news from my family’s castle? Has Rivena appeared yet? Last time, you told me Lysandra discovered she had been doing something she should not have been doing. How is the situation with both of them?”

”Lady Lysandra is still following her sister’s trail. Until Lord Valttair returns, I do not believe Lady Rivena will return home quickly. I can attempt to trace her properly once the situation in Aurevane is resolved, young master.”

Trafalgar leaned back slightly, irritation passing through him in a thin, familiar line. Rivena was one of those problems that never stayed where he left it. A poisonous thing with noble blood and enough arrogance to mistake survival for victory.

”I would prefer not to focus on someone like her,” Trafalgar said. ”But whatever she is doing gives me a bad feeling. Just in case, tracing her might be a good idea. We’ll discuss it after this mess in Aurevane is over.”

”Understood, young master.”

A brief lull passed between them. Caelum remained perfectly still in Halbrecht’s body, which made the whole situation more absurd the longer Trafalgar allowed himself to think about it. The real Halbrecht, wherever Caelum had hidden him, was apparently sleeping through the theft of his identity while the stolen version sat in an expensive café discussing family issues, Void Creatures, and possible abductions.

Aurevane had produced stranger mornings, probably. But not many.

Trafalgar tapped one finger lightly against the cup.

”By the way, what you said about Halbrecht being fine was true, right? I’d rather not have a major commotion because the real one vanished.”

Caelum answered without changing expression.

”As you can see, Master von Halbrecht is in front of you.”

Trafalgar stared at him.

Caelum stared back with Halbrecht’s severe face, saying absolutely nothing else.

For a moment, Trafalgar genuinely could not tell if Caelum was joking or if this was simply another case of the man stating something technically true in the least helpful way possible.

Seeing the doubt on his young master’s face, Caelum finally spoke in his usual cold, indifferent tone.

”I am joking, young master.”

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose. ”You need to practice that a little, Caelum. But good attempt. A very good attempt, if your goal was to make my heart stop.”

”I will practice in my free time, then. The real Halbrecht is sleeping. He will wake when everything has passed and will remember nothing useful, as if a gap had opened in his memory.”

”I see.” Trafalgar accepted that with a small nod. ”Good. It’s time to leave, then. We’ll wait and see what happens with the director.”

Caelum rose from the chair with Halbrecht’s practiced stiffness. ”Understood, young master. I will take my leave. Master von Halbrecht has duties he must attend to.”

Trafalgar stood as well.

They parted outside the café without any visible connection between them. One left as Trafalgar du Morgain, calm and unhurried beneath Aurevane’s morning light. The other left as Orven von Halbrecht, sour-faced and important enough that staff lowered their heads before remembering why.

The city continued around them, bright and crowded, unaware that one of its locked doors had already been marked.

And now, everything depended on whether Selara could convince Aurevane to open it.

…

- Selara POV -

Across the district, Selara was already moving toward a tower of pale stone and dark glass that rose above the administrative quarter.

It was not the tallest building in Aurevane, but it did not need to be. The tower had the posture of a place where doors opened only after names, titles, and debts were weighed properly. Guards stood at the entrance in formal lines, and every carriage stopping before it carried someone important enough to dislike waiting.

Selara adjusted her gloves as she approached.

If Aurevane wanted to hide behind committees, permissions, and polished excuses, fine.

She knew how to speak that language too.