Lucen didn't move for a while.
The recording was long over. The archive was off. The window hadn't opened since he got back. But the air in his apartment felt warmer now. Buzzed, like residual heat after a long cast. It wasn't coming from the city.
It was coming from his phone.
It buzzed once.
Twice.
Five times.
He let it.
The sixth time, he picked it up.
Didn't check the name.
Didn't have to.
He answered with a sigh. "Gen."
"What the hell did you just do."
Lucen walked to the counter, snagged the half-empty mana drink from earlier, and leaned against the sink.
"I told the truth. Politely."
"You just went full dead-eye message-drop on a seventeen-year-old duelist with half the city's camera drones following him around."
Lucen sipped. "So?"
"So he answered." Gen sounded like he was pacing. "Publicly. Loudly. With a high-resolution sponsor-confirmed stream and a combat cage already booked."
Lucen blinked once. "That was fast."
