Chapter 32: NADIA'S PRICE
The folder sat on the café table between us like an unexploded ordnance.
Nadia picked it up without ceremony and started reading. Her face was professional—neutral, focused, the expression of someone who'd reviewed a thousand corporate cover-ups and learned to separate emotion from analysis.
Then she reached the Marcus Chen file.
Her jaw tightened. A muscle in her cheek flexed.
"Where did you get this?" she asked.
"Anonymous whistleblower. Someone inside Vought's documentation division who got tired of filing the paperwork for dead children." The cover story was plausible because it was approximately true—just with the whistleblower replaced by a nighttime break-in.
"I'll need to verify independently."
"I expected that."
She kept reading. Five minutes. Ten. When she finished, she closed the folder and looked at me with something I hadn't seen from her before: respect that wasn't provisional.
"This is real," she said.
"Yes."
"You're giving me the story of the year."
"I'm giving you the truth about a man who killed a child and got protected for it." I leaned forward. "The story is yours. Run it however you want. But I need something in return."
"The timing," she said. Not a question.
"Groundhawk has a public appearance scheduled in four days. A community hero event in Midtown. If your article drops that morning—"
"He'll be emotionally compromised in front of cameras." Nadia's expression was calculating. "You're engineering a confrontation."
"I'm creating an opportunity for him to show what he really is."
She studied me for a long moment.
"That's manipulation."
"That's journalism with tactical awareness." I held her gaze. "You're going to publish the truth about him regardless. The timing just determines whether anyone pays attention."
She pocketed the folder. Then she said the words I'd been dreading.
"Now. My question."
The debt from the medical refusal article. The honest answer I'd promised without knowing what she'd ask.
"How did you really survive that hit in Midtown?" Her eyes were steady, unblinking. "Not the shield. Not adrenaline. Not stunt training. The real answer."
I sat with it for ten seconds.
The easy lie would be to claim ignorance—I don't know, I just got lucky. But she'd see through it. She'd been watching me too closely, investigating too thoroughly. A lie here would cost more than the truth.
"Partial truth," I decided. "Enough to satisfy. Not enough to expose."
"I don't fully understand it," I said slowly. "Something changed after the footage went viral. I'm tougher than I should be. I heal faster. I can take impacts that should injure me and walk away." A pause. "I don't know why, and I'm not sure I want Vought to find out."
Nadia's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind her eyes.
"You're saying you developed powers. Without Compound V."
"I'm saying something happened to me that doesn't fit any category I know. Powers, mutation, miracle—pick your word. The result is the same: I'm different than I was."
"And you don't know how it happened?"
"I know exactly how it happened. Ten thousand believers made it real."
"I have theories," I said. "None of them make sense."
She stood. Gathered the folder. Walked toward the door.
Then she stopped and turned back.
"If you're lying to me," she said, "I'll find out."
"I know."
"If you're telling the truth—" A pause. "—you need someone who'll publish it when you're ready. Someone who understands how to frame a story that doesn't fit existing narratives."
"Are you offering?"
"I'm noting the possibility." Her expression softened by exactly one degree. "The Groundhawk story runs in four days. After that, we'll see."
She left.
[BELIEF CATEGORY ANALYSIS: NADIA KAZAN]
[PREVIOUS: PURE SKEPTICISM (7.2% FRICTION)]
[CURRENT: INVESTIGATIVE FAITH (0.3% FRICTION)]
[NOTE: INDIVIDUAL BELIEF SHIFT — SKEPTICISM WITH WILLINGNESS TO BE WRONG]
The system confirmed what the conversation had shown me. Nadia's personal contribution to Narrative Friction had dropped to almost nothing. She wasn't a believer—she'd never be that—but she was no longer actively undermining the narrative.
"That was the most honest I've been with anyone in this world," I realized, walking home through Astoria's quiet streets. "And it cost me nothing except the sick feeling of almost being known."
Get Early Access to New Chapters
Thank you for reading. For those who want to skip the wait, my Patreon is currently 21 chapters ahead of the public sites.
Schedule: 7 new chapters released every 10 days.
Benefit: Gain a significant lead of 7 to 21 chapters depending on your tier.
Support the project and start reading the next arc now: Patreon.com/IsekaiStories