By the time they stepped out of the café, the world felt… quieter.
Not actually quieter — traffic still hummed in the distance, people still talked, doors still opened and shut — but the tension that had been coiled tight around Magnus's spine for the past half hour had finally loosened just enough for him to breathe.
Their talk had ended with Jordan walking away, her Interest in him sitting at 21%. It had inched up there somewhere during his second explanation of his powers — Animal-Linked Comprehension and Premonition, because he'd already blurted them out earlier, and Invisibility because, apparently, Jordan had seen more than they thought she did during one of their near-misses over the past few days — and through Affective Discernment (after finally calming himself down enough to focus on it), Magnus could tell that she was… satisfied, maybe?
It wasn't exactly clear. The power had never been clear, exact, or precise.
It was not words or thoughts, either. Just… direction. Weight.
Jordan felt… Steady. Alert. And underneath that… something quieter. Not disbelief. Not anymore. Rather, measured acceptance.
He let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
He didn't know how much she actually believed and how much she was still filing away for later. If anything, he suspected it was both. Jordan didn't strike him as the type to fully accept something like this without picking it apart from every angle first.
But for now?
For now, she was satisfied. Satisfied that he apparently had superpowers — none of which were particularly useful, that they showed up whenever they felt like it, and that he barely understood how they worked most of the time.
Which was, technically, all true. The System assigned powers randomly — he'd literally seen a spinning selection wheel every time a quest popped — and half the time, the descriptions were about as helpful as a fortune cookie written by someone who'd never met a modern human before.
He hadn't told her everything, though. Alex had been clear — Jordan knowing everything at once would complicate things and likely cause more problems than it would solve.
Still…
He could feel it. Faint, but there. A thread of curiosity from her. A thread that, sooner or later, would probably lead to more questions.
And eventually?
Yeah. He was going to have to tell her more. Maybe everything. But not today. And not anytime soon, if he could help it.
"…Magnus?"
He blinked.
Alex was looking at him, one eyebrow raised, phone in hand, her gaze a mixture of teasing and concern. "You okay?"
"…Yeah," he managed. "Just needed a moment to calm my nerves…"
"You did better than I'd expected, all things considered."
She glanced down at her phone, then back up.
"Still too early for lunch," she said. Then, like she'd just decided something, her expression shifted — lighter, sharper. "How about we go on a little date?"
Magnus blinked again. "…Right now?"
"Yes, now!"
She was already on her feet. There was neither hesitation nor overthinking. Just decision.
"We both need to de-stress," she continued, slipping her phone into her pocket and reaching out to pull him up. "And you owe me."
"I—what—"
She gave him a look, a very specific look. "…For denying me intimacy for half a week now."
"I wasn't—" he started, then immediately stopped when her expression didn't change. At all.
"…Okay," he admitted, shoulders sagging slightly. "Maybe I've been a little tense since that vision of Sofia walking in on us—"
"A little?" Alex repeated.
Magnus swallowed. "I'll shut up now."
"Good choice."
And just like that, she smiled — bright, satisfied, like a storm passing as quickly as it came.
"You're entirely mine until tonight," she declared, already grabbing his hand and tugging him along. "I expect pampering. And affection."
"Yes, ma'am."
She giggled at that, the sound light and easy, and for the first time since getting caught by Jordan earlier, Magnus felt something in his chest unclench.
They got out of the café and walked.
No destination at first — just moving, hand in hand, letting the busy streets blur into quieter paths until the noise faded into something softer. Eventually, it opened up into a small park. Nothing fancy. A few winding paths, patches of grass, trees just starting to cast decent shade in the late morning light.
It was… normal. And that was the point!
"No System talk," Alex said at some point, squeezing his hand lightly. "No quests. No powers."
He glanced at her. She didn't look at him when she continued.
"Let's just forget about everything and pretend we're normal," she said. Then, softer, "Just us. For a few hours."
Magnus hesitated. Then nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Okay."
And they did. They found a bench. Sat. Talked. About childhood. About dumb school stories. About food preferences that somehow turned into a ten-minute argument about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
(It didn't. Magnus was wrong. Alex was very firm on that.)
It was easy. Too easy, maybe. Like slipping into a version of life that almost felt real.
At some point, they started walking again, slower this time. No rush. No pressure.
Magnus glanced at her, something tugging at the back of his mind.
"You know," he said, "I've never actually asked… obvious reasons aside… why Political Science?"
Alex didn't stop, but she did slow down.
"Huh," she said after a second. "I guess you haven't."
She went quiet for a few steps, thinking. When she spoke again, her voice was different. Less polished. More vulnerable.
"My dad, I guess," she said. "He was a politician. One of the good ones, I'd hope."
"What was he like?"
Alex didn't answer immediately.
"Kind," she said eventually. "Warm. Family-oriented."
A small smile flickered, faint and distant.
"He was busy. Almost always too busy. But weekends…" she huffed softly, almost amused. "Weekends were non-negotiable. Didn't matter what was going on—he'd make time."
Her smile faded into something more serious. "He believed we always have a choice."
Her steps slowed. "His last one — choosing to do what's right — may have cost him his life."
Magnus felt something in his chest tighten.
He didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
"Uncle James — Jordan's dad — suspected foul play," she went on. "But my dad's side of the family…"
Her jaw set. "They buried it. Because it was easier, more convenient. Better for the Locke family."
Magnus's grip on her hand tightened slightly without him realizing.
And something clicked. Like a puzzle finally lining up. Her dad's last name. Locke. The way she'd flinch every time Jordan said it. It wasn't obvious. Wasn't explosive like Jordan. Just… tight. Controlled. Like something she refused to let slip.
And Jordan—
He could practically hear Alex's voice from that morning, the first day of training with Jordan:
"Don't EVER call her Vanessa!"
The last guy who did it had allegedly ended up in the hospital.
He'd believed her then. Now he understood it. Jordan would explode. Alex wouldn't. But that didn't mean it hurt any less. If anything, it probably meant the opposite.
"He died," Alex said, quieter now. "And they chose profit. Safety. Influence. Over him."
She stared ahead, eyes unfocused.
"…That's when Mom took me and left," Alex continued. "Changed our names. Cut ties. We wanted nothing to do with them."
Magnus stayed quiet. Just… there.
"Uncle James helped a lot," she added. "More than he had to."
A small, humorless breath. "Which didn't exactly help things with Jordan."
That part didn't need explaining. Magnus could see it. A father trying to fill a gap his friend had left. A daughter watching it happen. Comparison — intentional or not. Resentment growing in places no one meant to plant it.
It fit. Too well!
"And back when I was younger and didn't know any better, I used to think Jordan was being unfair and unreasonable towards her dad and me. I even thought… she still had her dad, I lost mine, and resented her for that for a while." Her voice cracked with remorse. "I didn't even know she'd been compared to me all her life. Or maybe I knew but didn't care back then…"
Magnus reached out then, gently wrapping his arms around her from behind. She didn't resist. If anything, she leaned into it, just slightly.
After a brief silence as they just stood there hugging, Alex huffed and continued:
"So… I went into Political Science to try and understand. Why my dad made his choice. And why they made theirs."
She exhaled. "Mom hated it at first. We fought about it."
A pause. "She's… accepted it now. Mostly."
Magnus nodded faintly but still didn't interrupt. Didn't need to.
The silence between them wasn't empty. It held.
Alex let out a breath, like she was pushing something off her chest, then turned around to face him.
"Okay," she said, forcing a bit of brightness back into her voice. "Enough heavy stuff. Your turn!"
Magnus blinked. "Mine?"
"Yeah. Why Media and Communication?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "It's going to sound lame."
"I'll be the judge of that."
He huffed a small laugh. "…I'm still not entirely sure why, to be honest."
Alex snorted. "Strong start."
"Yeah, I know."
He paused. Then, slowly—
"I guess it started with my dad too."
Alex went still in his embrace.
"I told you I used to look for him, right?" Magnus said. "When I was a kid, trying to figure out which ethnicity of Asian he was."
She nodded. "Yeah. That's where you picked up Chinese proverbs."
"Yeah, I went through a bunch of stuff back then," he continued. "Random things. Languages. History. Trying to figure out… anything."
He let out a quiet breath. "It didn't really lead anywhere. But one thing that stuck — aside from the Chinese proverbs — was this TV program I read about. Vietnamese, I think."
"What kind?"
"They'd… find people," Magnus said. "Family members. Loved ones. People separated by war, accidents, kidnapping—whatever."
He shrugged. "I didn't think much of it at the time. But I guess… the idea stuck."
He glanced at her, a little sheepish. "That maybe working in media could… help people like that."
Alex stared at him. "That sounds like such a you thing to say."
Magnus groaned. "See? Lame."
"No," she said immediately. "Not lame."
She cupped his face and looked up at him properly.
"That's impressive," she said. Then, after a beat, "And attractive."
Magnus short-circuited. "Huh—what?"
"Told you," she said after a quick peck on the lips, smirking slightly. "You have terrible self-esteem. Work on that."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.
And just like that, he was completely, utterly speechless. Alex watched him for a second and thought…
The idiot probably thought she was looking at him through love's tinted lenses again… Infuriating!
Then something clicked for her as well. She hadn't realized it before because, at first glance, Magnus and her father didn't seem to have anything in common.
Not looks. Her father had been ruggedly handsome, with a full beard. Magnus was good-looking, sure, but more nerdy — more adorkable.
Not personality, either. Her father had been confident. Charismatic. The kind of man who could command a room — or even a stadium full of people — without much effort.
Magnus…
Magnus was none of that. He was awkward. Earnest. A little all over the place. A nervous golden retriever in human form.
But underneath all that was…
The same core values!
The same instinct.
The same need to help.
The same belief that people mattered.
That choices mattered.
That doing the right thing… mattered.
Even when it cost you. Maybe especially then.
Her chest tightened.
Because that—
That part—
It scared her.
Because her father had made that choice. And it had killed him.
And Magnus…
Magnus had already done the same thing. Multiple times. Without hesitation.
For her.
For Lila Voss.
For Professor Marquez.
And for every target his System had thrown at him, the idea of using coercion or force had never even crossed his mind. Even when the alternative was death, he had always stopped to ask if she was okay with everything — as if his life meant less to him than her comfort, than the idea of being faithful, of fidelity.
And again, a thought she'd occasionally had surfaced:
What if it hadn't been Magnus who got this System? What if it had been some entitled asshole or degenerate scum?
With just Telekinesis, Invisibility, and Fortuitous Alignment alone, how many girls would have been in danger of sexual assault? Because it would have been easier. More convenient.
Because the System didn't care how the quests were completed. Just that they were done.
Her fingers tightened slightly where they rested against his shirt.
"…Hey," Magnus said softly, noticing the shift. "You okay?"
Alex blinked. Forced a small smile.
"Yeah," she said. Then, quieter, "I just…"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
But she rested her face against his chest, then wrapped her arms tightly around him.
And didn't let go.