By the time I escaped the bathing chamber alive—and mercifully alone—I was wrapped in a clean robe, hair still damp, dignity in critical condition.
I shut my door, leaned my forehead against it for a solid three seconds, and breathed.
In.
Out.
"Okay," I muttered. "I survived."
No response.
Which meant Nova was either being polite… or waiting.
I crossed the room, collapsed into the chair by the window, and stared at the night sky beyond the estate's wards. Stars glittered calmly, as if the universe itself wasn't actively conspiring against me.
"…Nova," I said at last.
[Yes.]
There it was.
Calm. Crisp. Awake.
Annoyingly so.
"We need to set some ground rules," I said.
[This should be entertaining.]
"It's not," I replied flatly. "It's about privacy."
[Define 'privacy.']
I sighed. "You don't comment on things I'm embarrassed about."
[That will significantly reduce my opportunities for conversation.]
"I'm serious."
A pause.
Then—
[I will attempt restraint.]
"That's not reassuring."
[It is the maximum concession available.]
I leaned back, rubbing my temples. "Also, your silence earlier felt like judgment."
[Incorrect.] Nova replied. [It was basic decency.]
"That's the same thing with better PR."
Nova did not dignify that with a response.
I let the silence settle, then exhaled.
"…Anyway, that's not why I'm talking to you."
[Unfortunate. I had prepared several counterarguments.]
"Of course you did."
I glanced down at my hands. Steady. No tremor. The bath had worked—irritatingly well.
"…I need information," I said.
Nova hummed softly.
[You always do.]
"And before you start," I added quickly, "I'm not asking for outcomes, prophecies, or truths that liquefy my sanity."
[Disappointing.]
"I'm asking practical questions."
The tone shifted—slightly sharper, more focused.
[Proceed.]
I took a breath. "First. The Chosen. I'll eventually need to identify him without anyone noticing. How?"
There was a pause.
A deliberate one.
[You do not search for him.]
I frowned. "Then how do I—"
[You wait.]
"That's not an answer."
[It is the only one that does not get you caught.]
I scowled. "So I just… wait for him to stumble into my lap?"
[Crude, but statistically accurate.]
"You're kidding."
[Clarifying.]
I leaned forward. "Nova. Please."
Nova sighed—actually sighed.
[The Chosen will attract anomalies, conflicts, and statistical irregularities. When such events cluster unnaturally around an individual of the appropriate age and progression, that individual is your target.]
I processed that.
"So," I said slowly, "I look for trouble."
[Yes.]
"…That's the worst plan I've ever heard."
[And yet it aligns perfectly with your life so far.]
I grimaced. Fair.
"Second question," I continued. "Once I find him—what then?"
[You observe.]
"Only?"
[Primarily.]
I narrowed my eyes. "And when someone tries to kill him?"
[You prevent it.]
"How?"
Nova paused.
Then—
[That depends.]
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Nova."
[On context.]
"Nova."
[On acceptable risk.]
"NOVA."
[What do you think I am, G*ogle?]
The words hit me like a thrown brick.
I stared at the empty air.
"…How the hell do you know about G*ogle?"
A pause.
"Can you read my memories?"
Then, very calmly—
[I have access to your memories.]
My spine went rigid.
"…You what?"
[Selectively.] Nova added calmly. [Do not flatter yourself. Most of them are useless.]
"You read my memories without asking?"
[Incorrect.]
[You accepted the partnership.]
"That's not consent!"
[It is contractual proximity.]
"You're still reading them without permission."
[Reading implies leisure.] Nova replied. [I indexed them for contextual clarity.]
"…That's worse."
[Incorrect.]
I rubbed my face. "So let me get this straight. You can read my memories, but you're not even answering my simple questions?"
[If it helps,] Nova added, [your embarrassment registers as low-priority data.]
"That does not help."
I rubbed my face, then dropped my hands. "Back to the question. When I need to intervene—how do I decide?"
Nova didn't answer immediately.
When it did, the humour was gone.
[You intervene when probability collapses.]
My stomach tightened. "Meaning?"
[When events converge toward a single irreversible outcome, or when choice disappears or when death becomes inevitable.]
Silence stretched.
"That's… vague," I said quietly.
[It must be.]
"Because?"
[Because certainty is the most detectable anomaly in existence.]
That sentence stuck.
I swallowed. "So I don't stop everything."
[Correct.]