The students' union was packed, banners hanging from the rafters and tables spilling flyers like confetti.
Cass arrived on foot from the car park, letting the buzz roll toward him in waves. The Aston Martin gleamed under weak sunlight behind him, but he didn't look back.
He wanted them to connect the man with the machine without him pointing. His suit sat perfectly on his shoulders, the sort of tailoring that made onlookers straighten their own jackets without knowing why.
'Eyes up. Calm stride. Let them decide who you are before you have to speak.'
A cluster of committee heads hovered near the entrance, eyes flicking his way. One of them, a brunette with a sash reading History Society, stepped forward with a natural elegance that didn't try too hard.
"Cassian Vale?"
Cass stopped, meeting her eyes with a level gaze.
"I am."
"I'm Rowena," she said, voice low and warm. "We're doing a salon night on Thursdays. Talks, music, wine."
"Wine," Cass said, a faint smile touching his mouth. "You open with the right word."
She laughed. It wasn't affected; it sounded like someone used to fine rooms who didn't mind being in a crowded one.
"You look like someone who attends salons rather than open mics."
"I attend what interests me," Cass said. "And what can be made better?"
Rowena's eyes glinted. "We can always be made better."
'Poise, taste, curiosity. Not a sycophant. Keep her close.'
A commotion shifted the air to his left. Trent Beaumont pushed through with two mates, his grin sharp and shallow. He lifted a paper cup.
"Careful there, Vale. Would be a tragedy if a little coffee met that suit."
Cass didn't look at the cup. He looked at Trent's knuckles. The boy's hand wasn't steady.
"Your hand's shaking," Cass said calmly. "That happens when men borrow courage from an audience."
Trent's smirk wobbled. "Still a mouth on you."
"Still an audience you can't keep," Cass said. He turned to Rowena without waiting for the reply. "Thursday. I'll bring something for the music."
"You play?" Rowena asked.
"I do many things," Cass said, and moved on.
[Quest Triggered: Society Fair Debut]
[Reward: +£3,000. Popularity +3. Performance Skill Track Unlocked]
'Good. Let's take the stage and make it a habit.'
He drifted through the lanes, absorbing schedules, measuring faces. A boy from Investment Society tried to talk over him with buzzwords and no numbers.
Cass asked one question about risk-adjusted returns and watched confidence drain like a punctured tyre. He left with a polite nod and ten new listeners who had heard the question and liked the quiet knife in it.
"Cass?" a voice said behind him, bright and breathy, a note he used to think was music.
He knew the perfume before he turned. Sienna Reed. Glossy hair, coy tilt of the head, and eyes that flicked to the watch on his wrist before meeting his face.
"Fancy seeing you," she said, smile honeyed. "You've… changed."
'I buried a man to be born again, and you're surprised I look different.'
"Hello, Sienna," Cass said.
She stepped closer. "So this is the famous Cassian Vale. Car, suit, whispers everywhere. I always told you you'd shine if you just tried a little harder."
Cass studied her a beat too long.
"You told me to accept smallness as destiny."
She blinked. The smile faltered, then returned, stronger and thinner. "Don't be dramatic. We were kids. Come for drinks tonight? Old times."
"Old times ended," Cass said. "We're not reviving a corpse."
Sienna's laugh had edges now. "You think you're above me because you have a car?"
"I'm above you because I learned the price of begging for crumbs," Cass said, voice gentle. "And because I never will again."
Her cheeks flushed. She leaned in. "You'll regret speaking to me like that."
"I regretted speaking kindly to you longer," Cass said.
[Nemesis Flag Set: Sienna Reed]
[Reward: Cold Resolve +1. Hidden Ledger Opened]
'Good. Write her name at the top of the page and let time collect interest.'
Rowena reappeared at Cass's shoulder, one brow arched at the tension she could have ignored. She didn't.
"Everything all right?"
"Perfect," Cass said.
Sienna's eyes flicked between them and cooled. "Enjoy your salon," she said to Rowena, tone implying table wine and pretension.
Rowena's smile didn't move. "Enjoy your evening."
Sienna left with purpose, hips tilted too much to be effortless. Cass watched her go long enough to remind himself he felt nothing.
"You didn't introduce us," Rowena said, amused.
"A girl I used to know," Cass said. "I prefer new acquaintances."
Rowena considered him. "Would you consider playing at the salon? We have a battered upright and too many brave amateurs."
"If the piano is battered, I'll make it sing," Cass said.
"Confidence," Rowena said. "Dangerous in the wrong hands."
"In the right hands, it pays dividends," Cass said.
"Thursday," she repeated. "Seven."
"Thursday," Cass agreed, and the word felt like a marker on a map.
[Micro-Quest Triggered: Perform Once in Public]
[Reward: Piano Lv.1. Charm +1 with Arts Societies]
'Stack the room. Make the first song a signature and never let them forget it.'
A representative from the Charities Committee hovered nearby, eyeing Cass's suit like a passport. He cleared his throat.
"Mr Vale. We're raising for a local hospice. Auction later. If you were to… contribute, it would mean a lot."
"How much is your goal?" Cass asked.
The student blinked. "We'd like to hit two thousand."
Cass took the pen, scratched a figure on the form, and handed it back.
The boy's mouth fell open. "You… you've just cleared our target."
"Consider it a start," Cass said. "Send the invoice."
[Patron Status Acquired: Union Charity]
[Reward: +£5,000. Reputation: Benefactor +3. Private Lounge Access Unlocked]
Rowena's eyes warmed, not for the number but for the lack of performance.
"You didn't make a speech," she said.
"Money speaks better when it isn't begging for thanks," Cass said.
"Thursday," Rowena repeated, a small smile on her lips as if the word had become a private joke.
"Thursday," Cass said again, and moved on with the union still murmuring in his wake.
The music room was smaller than he'd hoped and larger than it needed to be. A scuffed upright waited near the window with a ring of mismatched chairs around it.
Fairy lights drooped along the ceiling in a way that suggested enthusiasm rather than budget. Even empty, the room felt like an audience that hadn't arrived yet.
'Good. Make it yours before they come.'
He set his fingers on the keys lightly. The action was uneven, one key a fraction heavy, another a hair light. He pressed anyway, letting his wrists absorb the flaws and feed them back as grace.
[Skill Unlocked: Piano Lv.1]
[Effect: Solid technique. Expressive control]
He played scales not because he needed them but because the room needed to hear him own it. Then he let the shape of a piece curl out of him—Debussy first, because liquid light was better than thunder for the opening claim.
The windows hummed with the soft. His shoulders loosened. A knot under his sternum he hadn't noticed until now released.
Footsteps. Whispered voices. The door opened without a knock; students slipped in and folded into chairs.
Rowena entered with a raised hand to someone behind her, taking a seat like it was her right to be at the centre of a good thing. Trent leaned on the doorframe with a smirk that tried too hard. Sienna slipped along the back wall and pretended she wasn't looking; she was.
Cass didn't turn. He finished Debussy as if he had invited only himself, then let the last note breathe long enough to own the silence. He shifted without pause into Chopin, the easy storm of a nocturne that tasted like midnight and promises.
[Performance Chain Started]
[Reward: Audience Captivation +1. Popularity +2 (Arts)]
Rowena's chin rested on her knuckles; her eyes were bright. Trent's posture altered by degrees he wouldn't notice, shoulders pulling in as if the room had shrunk. Sienna's arms crossed, then uncrossed, as if she couldn't decide whether to defend or receive.
'Good. Music is a cleaner knife. They bleed and call it beauty.'
He ended on a cadence that felt like a seal pressed in wax. Then he stood, letting the chair scrape the floor.
"Requests?"
Rowena spoke first. "Something… ours," she said. "Something English."
"Elgar," Cass said. "But arranged."
He sat again and gave them Nimrod refracted through his hands, smaller than an orchestra and somehow nearer. Someone in the second row wiped at their face quickly, annoyed with themselves.
Trent stopped smirking. Sienna's lips parted. A first-year whispered a curse and forgot to be embarrassed.
[Quest Complete: Perform Once in Public]
[Reward: Piano Lv.2. Charm +2 (Arts). Title Progress: Gentleman 25%]
'There it is. Now make the room decide they were here before it was obvious.'
Rowena clapped first, not a polite tap but a firm decision. The sound broke the spell; the room followed, applause rolling like surf in a space too small to hold it.
"That was…" she began, then stopped like the right word had to be earned. "I'll remember that."
"I wanted you to," Cass said.
Trent pushed off the frame and tried to regain air. "Not bad," he said too loudly. "For a pub piano."
Cass glanced at him, expression mild.
"Trent," he said. "When you learn the difference between volume and applause, you can join in."
Laughter cracked like a whip. Trent flushed, eyes cutting to Sienna for rescue he didn't get. He left with the shards of his pride clicking under his shoes.
Sienna waited until the crowd drifted toward wine and paper cups. She approached with her chin high and a smile that remembered another life.
"You never played like that before," she said.
"You never listened before," Cass said.
Her lashes dropped, then lifted, the practised rhythm of a girl who expected the world to return after she dismissed it.
"We could talk," she said softly. "Privately."
"Our private life ended the day you traded it," Cass said.
"People change," she said.
"They do," Cass said. "Some improve."
Her lips whitened. She breathed once, found a new angle. "You'll regret this."
"I already spent my regret on you," Cass said. "I keep better accounts now."
[Hidden Ledger Updated: Sienna Reed]
[Reward: Willpower +1. Cold Aura +1 (temporary)]
Rowena joined them, one brow raised in question that wasn't nosy.
"Thursday next," she said. "Bring Elgar again. And something wicked."
"Wicked sells tickets," Cass said. "I'll oblige."
Rowena's smile was quick and private. "Goodnight, Cassian."
"Goodnight, Rowena."
He left the room to the sound of his name tasting different in their mouths than it had that morning. In the corridor, he paused and let the quiet settle. The system pulsed, the numbers soft as a heartbeat.
[Day Summary]
Cashflow: +£18,500
Reputation: University +7, Arts +4, Benefactor +3
Skills: Piano Lv.2, Gourmet Cooking Lv.2, Perfect Recall Lv.1
Passives: Aura of Refinement, Cold Aura (temporary), Portfolio Growth +5%
'Additions to the crown. Keep layering. By the time they raise a hand, their fingers will close on smoke.'
He walked out into the cooling night, the Aston Martin a dark shape under the lamps, and thought about Thursday as if it were already his.