Kael found me at the entrance to the latest tunnel just as the sun was beginning to dip behind the blue barrier.
"Your three-day contract is up," he said without preamble, brushing dust from his sleeve as if the words meant nothing.
I straightened slowly, shovel still in my hands, dirt packed deep under my fingernails. I had been expecting this. Three days had felt both too long and far too short. My mind had already run the numbers on what came next—more digging, more observations, more careful testing of the ground's strange generosity.
Then he continued.
"I have purchased it again. Another three days. Grelt was happy to extend. Apparently your output has not dropped enough to concern him."
I looked at him directly. "Why?"
Kael smiled. It was the same pleasant, curious expression he always wore, the one that made him look like a scholar examining an interesting insect. But the smile did not reach his eyes. Those remained sharp, calculating, detached.
"Research," he said smoothly. "You are proving quite useful in the tunnels. The data is accumulating faster with your assistance. Efficiency matters."
He stepped closer than necessary as he spoke, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of expensive ink and travel herbs on his clothes. Not threatening. Not yet. Just… encroaching. The kind of danger that wore pleasantness like well-fitted armour.
I didn't move back. Moving back would show weakness. Instead I kept my posture neutral and continued counting the seconds between his words.
He asked questions as we walked back toward the main building—personal ones framed as academic curiosity. How many times had I died trying to reach the barrier? Did I remember anything from before waking up in the shed? Did the respawn process ever feel different depending on how I died? Each question came wrapped in polite interest, but I could feel the weight behind them. He was testing boundaries, seeing how much he could push without resistance.
I answered only what served me. Short sentences. No extra information. My real work was happening inside my head.
I had enough pieces now.
The Grimoire bag. The Traveller's ability to cross zone barriers at will. The fact that their immunity was bound strictly to their own person and could not be transferred.
I could not steal his protection. But if I could get far enough into Zone 1 before he caught up with me—if I could survive even a few minutes on the other side of the barrier—then the Zone 0 respawn system would no longer apply. Revival only worked inside the zone that killed you. If I died outside… I might actually stay dead. Or worse, I might wake up somewhere new. Somewhere the counter could finally move.
It was a thin plan. Fragile. Built on variables I couldn't fully control. But it was the first real path I had seen in eleven thousand four hundred and twelve deaths.
Kael kept talking as we walked, voice smooth and educated. He spoke about the tunnels as if they were his discovery, about the strange resonance as if I were merely the tool that helped him uncover it. Every sentence reminded me of the power dynamic between us. He was the Traveller with the bag and the freedom. I was the slave whose time he had rented for coins.
I let him talk.
Inside, I was already calculating escape routes, timing, distances. The loose board in the shed. The exact pace needed to reach the barrier without triggering early warnings. How long I could survive in Zone 1 with nothing but rags and whatever EXP I could scrape together before the siphon took it.
We reached the main building. Kael dismissed me with a casual wave and disappeared inside to speak with Grelt's staff about supplies. I was supposed to wait outside.
Instead I moved along the side wall, silent on bare feet, and pressed myself against the wood near an open window. Voices drifted out clearly.
Grelt's heavy, wheezing tone came first.
"…she's just a picker. Nothing special. But if you want her that badly, I can make the arrangements. The contract chain through Seraphine Voss allows full transfer of ownership with the right paperwork."
Kael's voice answered, calm and unhurried.
"Name your price."
Grelt laughed, a wet, greedy sound. "You're not bargaining? Bold. Most men haggle. Fine. Two hundred gold for full ownership. She's Level 0, no useful skills on paper, but you seem to like her. Call it a convenience fee."
"Done," Kael said without hesitation. No negotiation. No counter-offer. Just immediate agreement. "Prepare the documents. I want it finalized before the end of the week."
My body went very still.
The words sank in like cold stone.
This was not research.
This was not a temporary extension of my labour contract.
He was buying me outright. Purchasing me like livestock or a rare book. The pleasant scholar with the living Grimoire and the easy smile intended to own me completely.
I stood there on the other side of the wall, bare feet rooted to the dirt, heart beating in the same steady rhythm it always did. I counted the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four.
Inside the building, the two men continued discussing logistics—paperwork, transfer fees, how to handle the siphon adjustments once ownership changed hands. Their voices sounded distant now, muffled by the roaring in my ears that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with cold calculation.
Eleven thousand four hundred and twelve deaths.
And now someone wanted to own every single one of the deaths still to come.
I turned away from the wall and walked back toward the fields, steps measured and silent. My face showed nothing. My hands stayed loose at my sides.
But inside, the plan that had been fragile and thin only minutes ago began to harden into something sharper.
If Kael wanted to buy me, he would have to catch me first.
And I had three more days to make sure he never did.