He turned.
Dr. Vance stood behind him, a small stack of hardcovers balanced against one hip. "You looked like you needed rescuing," she said. "From whatever that expression was."
She set the books down on the table as she sat, and his eyes went to them before coming back to her face.
"Guest series ended," she said, before he could ask. "I'm returning these before the library starts charging me for them."
"Feels formal."
"I am formal." She glanced at his textbooks—one of them upside down where he'd abandoned it an hour ago. "That doesn't look like studying either."
"I'm studying."
Her expression did the work her mouth didn't bother with—one eyebrow, patient and entirely unconvinced. "Okay, Mr. Blimp. Whatever you say."
They talked for a few minutes—the exam schedule, a joke at the expense of a colleague she didn't name. She filled air well. It sounded like conversation and gave away almost nothing.
Her phone vibrated against the table. She glanced at the screen. Her hand paused over it. She didn't pick it up. She looked at the screen a moment longer, then set the phone back down.
A few seconds later it buzzed again, shorter, twice in quick succession—texts this time. She checked the screen again. Her jaw tightened, barely. Her left hand moved to her side, not hiding, just settling. The faint pale line still marked where a ring used to sit, catching the light differently than the skin around it.
"Someone close?" he said.
She looked at him. A beat passed—long enough that he could see her deciding whether to let the question land or wave it off.
"Soon to be someone I used to be close to," she said, softer than the rest of it, something briefly unguarded crossing her face before she smoothed it away. She slid the phone into her pocket and stood, her fingers grazing the pale line on her hand once, absently, before she caught herself doing it. "I should go. I have four more of these to return upstairs."
She didn't wait for him to answer.
Dorian watched her go. The line hung between them, too honest to fill with something easy. We've kissed twice. Once over coffee, once in her office. She'd told him afterward that it hadn't happened. He wondered if she'd manage the same trick with this.
---
He packed his bag and left the library. The walk back took him past the art building, lit late, a handful of students still working against Monday's deadline.
Lisa was on the steps, travel mug in hand, sketchbook under her arm. She spotted him before he'd decided whether to cross the street.
"I was wondering when I'd see you again."
"Really."
"Mm. Had a feeling." She took a sip from her mug, grimaced at the cold coffee. "That way, at least, I'm not technically lying."
He almost smiled.
"I saw your video, by the way. The fountain one." She tilted her head, studying him with the particular attention she used to save for a face she was about to sketch. "Pretty impressive production value. Great lighting. Who was your director?"
"Sarcastic much?"
"Extremely." "So. Between Jenna and the fountain girl—who's the better kisser? Asking for research purposes."
"Jenna? What are you talking about?"
She waved a hand, breezy, already moving past it. "Small campus. Everybody's business ends up being everybody's business eventually." She didn't elaborate. "You don't have to answer. I'll draw my own conclusions."
"Lisa."
"What? I'm allowed to be curious. It's a free country. Well—free-ish. Tuition says otherwise." She exhaled, a tired breath, then yawned. "I have two more pieces I need to finish before Monday, and a dog who is going to stage a small riot if I'm not home in an hour."
"You'll get there."
"Obviously. I always do. Dramatically, at the last possible second, powered entirely by instant noodles." She pushed off the railing, sketchbook shifting under her arm. At the door, she paused, hand on the frame, not quite turning back.
"Try not to get into any more viral scandals before exams, okay? I don't have the energy to keep track."
The door swung shut behind her.
Kyle was in his corner when Dorian got back—cross-legged, headphones on, phone angled toward the wall, thumb moving slow and deliberate instead of the loose scroll of someone actually reading. Aware of being watched.
Dorian watched him a second longer than usual. Kyle didn't look up.
He's still the only thread I have back to whoever's running this. He filed the thought away, bookmarking it for later.
Tyler was at his desk, laptop open, a sketchpad beside it. He turned around when Dorian walked in.
"I think the BLIMP brand needs a mascot," Tyler announced. "Maybe a dolphin. Or a whale. Something that doesn't require legs."
"Why legless?" Dorian asked.
Tyler grinned, like he'd been waiting for someone to ask. "Because customers don't run away from us."
Kyle, from his corner, without looking up: "They can roll."
"Rolling is not running."
"Rolling is faster than running, actually. Downhill."
"Not the point." Tyler turned to Dorian. "I'm thinking a dolphin with sunglasses. Marketable."
Dorian sat on his bed and pulled out his phone. The number Kyle had sent him was still in his contacts—no name, just digits. He looked at it a long moment, contemplating his next action.
Movement caught the edge of his vision—Tyler crossing the room, setting up a small table in the middle of the floor. Two BLIMP cans. Two plastic cups. A single candle.
"What are you doing," Dorian said.
"This is your training ground." Tyler gestured dramatically. "I'm going to teach you how to talk to women. Step one: the three-second rule. Step two: the extended eye contact. Step three: the smooth exit."
"Is that a candle?"
"Mood lighting. Very important."
"You're going to burn the dorm down."
"I'm going to elevate the dorm."
Tyler's expression shifted, something more careful under it now. "Look, man. I know things have been rough. Sarah, the whole situation, the video. But I've been thinking. You were happier when you were with Sarah. Like, actually happy. Not just—" he gestured vaguely, "—whatever this is."
Dorian said nothing.
"So I'm trying to help. I'm no love doctor, but I figure if we can get you back in the game, maybe you can..." He trailed off. "You know. Fix things."
"I appreciate the thought," Dorian said, "but I don't think Sarah wants to fix anything."
Tyler crossed his arms. "And you know this how?"
"Because she walked away."
"So? People walk away. They come back. It's like, ebb and flow."
"You've never had a girlfriend."
"I have a girlfriend." Tyler looked genuinely wounded. "Chloe."
Dorian blinked. "Since when?"
"Since—" Tyler scratched the back of his head, momentum stalling out visibly. "Okay, maybe not girlfriend. Since she never actually accepted the date. Since I never actually asked her out. But the energy is there, Dorian. The energy is undeniable."
"That's not a girlfriend."
"That's a technicality." He waved it off. "Anyway. The guy always has to—"
"Has to what?"
Tyler opened his mouth, closed it. "I don't know. Show up? Say something? Not give up?" He gestured at the table. "That's what this is about. I'm trying to help you show up."
Dorian watched him a long moment. "That's not how it works."
"How do you know? You've never tried."
The candle flickered. Tyler leaned in to adjust it.
A spark caught the table's edge.
"It's fine. It's fine." He jumped back, hands up. "Everything's fine."
Kyle stood, crossed to the table, beat the flame out flat with his pillow in two strikes, and dropped back onto his bed without a word.
Dorian stood and headed for the door.
"Wait—" Tyler called after him. "What about the training? The extended eye contact?"
But Dorian was already gone.
---
The roof was cold enough to feel honest. Dorian stood at the edge of it, hands in his pockets, campus lights spread out below him in their usual indifferent grid.
He pulled up the interface.
LEVEL 5
LEVEL 6 SUB-QUEST 5: ACTIVE
TARGET: CHLOE
OBJECTIVE: ???
REWARD: ???
TIMER: ???
Beneath it, the line that had been sitting there unresolved:
SYSTEM STABILITY: UNKNOWN
Still unknown. He stared at it a moment, like staring might force an answer out of it, then let the interface fade.
The door behind him opened. Tyler stepped out, hands jammed in his hoodie pocket, looking almost sheepish.
"How did you know I was up here?" Dorian asked.
Tyler shrugged. "Lucky guess."
Dorian said nothing. Tyler took that as permission to stay, leaning against the railing a few feet off, pulling out his phone and scrolling.
"Did you know," he said, without looking up, "that there's a whole subreddit dedicated to your video? The fountain one. They're analyzing it. Frame by frame."
Dorian stopped mid-thought. "What?"
"Oh yeah." Tyler kept scrolling. "They're saying things like, 'look at the angle of the camera.' Some of them are trying to figure out who filmed it." He laughed, easy and casual. "People are weird, man. They just really want to know who's behind the camera."
Dorian said nothing.
Tyler looked up, grinned. "Wouldn't you want to know, though? If someone was watching you all that time?" He shrugged, looked back down at his screen. "I guess you'd have to be pretty close to get that angle. Like, right there."
He laughed, and kept scrolling.
---
Friday arrived on schedule, exams close enough now that half the campus wore the hollow, over-caffeinated look of people who'd stopped sleeping on purpose.
The karaoke bar was a low-lit cave of neon and desperation—a small stage at the far end with a microphone stand that had seen better decades, a screen mounted above it displaying lyrics in that particular shade of white that always lagged just behind the singer. The booths were cracked vinyl, the tables sticky enough to hold their own drink, and the sound system had the warm, forgiving quality of something that couldn't distinguish between talent and enthusiasm. A handful of students occupied the booths along the walls, nursing drinks and waiting for their turn at the mic.
Jordan was already at the bar when Dorian walked in, half-turned toward the room, arguing with Nico about something on a phone screen between them. Kylie sat a stool over, one boot hooked on the rail, watching the argument with the patient amusement of someone who'd seen it play out before.
She spotted Dorian. A smile spread across her face—warm, genuine. She raised a hand and waved.
Dorian smiled back, small, and lifted his hand in return.
"You made it," Nico said. "Chloe's still coming?"
"Should be."
"You invited someone to my hangout and told me after," Nico said, delighted rather than annoyed. "Bold move. What's she like?"
"You'll find out."
Jess looked up from her drink. "You're the guy from the game lounge, right?"
"Yeah."
She nodded, already looking past him toward the door. "Heard you were bringing someone."
"Heard from who?"
"Derek." She gestured vaguely. "He's been talking about it all night."
Derek appeared beside her, a drink in hand. "Talking about what?"
"Nothing." Jess turned back to her glass.
Derek shrugged at Dorian. "She's in a mood."
"Derek," Jess said flatly.
"What? I'm just saying."
Kylie smiled from the bar, amused.
Dorian settled at the bar. The bartender slid a drink toward him without being asked. He didn't touch it. A few minutes passed. The noise of the room settled around him.
The door opened. Chloe walked in—hair still damp, laptop bag over one shoulder, scanning the room from just inside the threshold. She found him without seeming to look for him specifically.
"This is very tame," she said, sliding onto the stool beside him, "for a guy with a whole viral scandal attached to his name."
"Where's the danger you promised, then."
"Never promised danger."
"Implied it. Strongly."
Derek claimed the stool on her other side before she'd fully settled. "So. Chloe. That's your name, right?"
"Yes."
"That's a nice name."
She looked at him. "I know."
Derek laughed, a beat too loud. "I like you."
"You don't know me."
"That's the point." He leaned closer. "I want to. You're clearly the most interesting person here."
Kylie, without looking up from her drink: "That was a line."
"It was a good line."
"It was a line," Kylie repeated, turning now with a face so deliberately exaggerated it startled a laugh out of Jordan, "that just admitted you were trying to pick her up. Which, fine, but maybe try something original."
"What would you say?"
"I don't know, but I can definitely do better than that," Kylie said with a teasing grin.
Dorian noticed Chloe's gaze had drifted back to him. She wasn't even trying to ignore Derek. She just was.
Jess set a drink in front of Derek without being asked. "Here."
He didn't look up. "Thanks."
She lingered half a second longer than necessary, waiting for something that didn't come. Her own glass sat untouched.
Derek downed the drink Jess had brought him. Then he signaled for another round. And another.
"So," he said, leaning in again, "what are you doing after this?"
"Walking back to my apartment."
"Want company?"
"Not really." A smile, pleasant and closed. "But thanks for offering."
He blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." She turned to Dorian. "Your turn."
Down the bar, Jess's glass sat empty in front of her. She wasn't looking away from Derek. Her knuckles had gone white around the stem.
Nico leaned over to Jordan. "He's not gonna stop, is he."
"Nope."
"Should we—"
"Let it play out," Jordan said. "It's more entertaining this way."
Chloe was still watching Dorian, one eyebrow raised. "Well?"
Dorian opened his mouth.
Derek cut in again, louder now. "I think I'm being unfairly judged here. I'm just trying to have a conversation."
"With a stranger," Kylie said, "who's clearly not interested."
"I've seen her around campus before. Besides, strangers become friends."
"Strangers become restraining orders," Kylie said, and Chloe laughed.
Derek's ears went red. He signaled for another drink. The bartender hesitated, glanced at the number of empty glasses in front of him, then poured anyway. Derek took the shot.
"Look," Derek said, leaning in too close, "I'm being really patient here."
"You're being really persistent." Chloe's voice was calm, almost kind.
"Same thing."
"Not really."
"You don't know what I'm like."
"I don't want to." Her smile thinned. "That's the point."
Derek laughed, sharp and wrong. "Okay, I get it. You're tough. I can work with tough."
"I'm not tough." Chloe didn't lean away. "I'm not interested. There's a difference."
His face went red. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again—reaching for something that would salvage the moment, something that would make her look at him the way she kept looking at Dorian.
"One more," he said to the bartender. "I need one more."
The bartender poured. Derek threw it back.
Then he stood.
"I'm going up there," he announced to no one in particular.
Jess's head snapped up. "Derek—"
But he was already walking toward the stage, weaving just slightly. He grabbed the microphone, scrolled through the song menu with the unearned confidence of a man who believed alcohol was a performance enhancer.
"I Will Always Love You," he announced to the room.
A guy in the corner snorted. Kylie covered her mouth.
The first few notes of Whitney Houston filled the room. Derek started singing.
It was not good.
It was the kind of singing that made people remember that Whitney Houston's version was famously difficult for a reason. Derek leaned into it, eyes closed, one hand over his heart, completely unaware of the collective wince rippling through the room.
Jordan had his phone out, recording.
"I'm sending this to him tomorrow," Jordan said.
"I'm sending it to him tonight," Kylie said.
Dorian watched Chloe. She was watching Derek with the same expression she'd had all night: polite, distant, unmoved. Not embarrassed for him, not charmed, not interested. Just... observing.
He wanted, with an intensity that surprised him, for this to be the one thing that wasn't a performance.
Derek reached the chorus. He held a note longer than his lung capacity could support. The sound cracked, then died.
A couple of people at the next table laughed. Derek didn't notice.
Chloe turned back to Dorian. "What's he trying to prove?"
"I don't think he's trying to prove anything. I think he's trying to get your attention."
"It's working." She tilted her head. "Just not the way he wants."
Derek finished the song to scattered applause—the kind of applause that was really just relief that it was over. He took a bow, wobbled, and made his way back to the table with the grin of a man who'd just headlined a stadium.
Jess was already on her feet.
"I think you've had enough," she said. Her voice was quiet, controlled.
Derek blinked at her. "What?"
"To drink." She moved between him and the table. "We should go."
"I'm fine. I'm just—"
"You want me to walk you?" she asked, and something under it made clear the drinking wasn't really the point.
"Later," he said, waving a hand, eyes already sliding back toward Chloe. "I'm just getting started."
Jess's jaw tightened. She grabbed her bag off the back of her stool and left without another word—fast steps, her shoulders squared, her silhouette cutting through the neon light and disappearing through the door.
Derek stared after her, his grin flickering.
Then he set his glass down, hard enough that something in it cracked, and followed her out.
The door swung shut behind him.
The bar noise filled the space they'd left. Someone took the stage and launched into a song that was bad in the right way. The moment settled, easing into the room's usual rhythm.
Nico watched the door a second longer, then let out a low whistle. "That's the third time this month."
"Guy's a slow learner," Jordan said.
"Guy's an optimist," Nico corrected.
"So." Chloe turned to Dorian. "Tell me something true. One thing. No performance."
Red bled into the corner of his vision.
[SUB-QUEST 5: TARGET — CHLOE.]
[TIMER: 20:00:00 — COUNTING.]
The letters glitched, stuttered, fought to form something legible.
[OBJECTIVE: — — — — — — — — —]
The scrambled text flickered, reformed, then dissolved back into static. It held there a moment, broken, refusing to resolve.
He blinked. It remained.
Chloe was still watching him, one eyebrow raised, waiting.
His hand tightened around the edge of the bar.
---
END OF CHAPTER 56