Chapter 202: 202 | My Money’s on the Foxes

She turned and walked toward the exit.

Naomi looked at me with something that might have been disappointment.

"She’s right, you know. About the money."

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Because if we get caught, it’s not just Belle who gets expelled. It’s all of us. You. Jordan. Me. The whole squad burns."

Jordan made a considering sound. "Counterpoint. What if we don’t get caught?"

"Jordan."

"I’m just saying. Belle’s detection is at Silver tier for the next," he checked his phone, "thirty-six hours. She can see wards. I can manipulate shadows to bypass sensors. You can fly us out if things go bad. Naomi can blast through obstacles. Misato can create diversions with clones."

"Misato would never agree to this."

"Misato doesn’t need to know until after it’s done."

I stared at him. "You’re actually serious."

"I’m broke. My scholarship covers tuition. That’s it. I eat ramen four nights a week because that’s what I can afford. Twenty thousand credits means I don’t have to choose between textbooks and food next semester."

Naomi’s voice was quiet. "My mom’s medical bills are piling up. She won’t tell me how bad it is, but I know. Twenty thousand would—"

"Stop."

They both looked at me.

My head hurt. The smart play was obvious. Walk away. Focus on tomorrow’s gate. Don’t risk the entire operation for one score.

But Belle was already halfway to the exit, probably planning to do this solo and get herself killed or expelled in the process.

And Jordan and Naomi were looking at me like I had answers.

I didn’t have answers. I had a death timer, three girlfriends, and a milk vampire system that made my entire existence a cosmic joke.

But I also had a team that needed money more than they needed safety.

"If we do this," I said slowly, "we do it smart. No rushing. No improvising. We plan every detail, map every ward, and we don’t move until we’re certain."

Jordan’s eyes opened fully for the first time all morning. "We’re actually doing this?"

"I didn’t say that. I said if we do this."

Naomi grabbed my hand. "When?"

"After tomorrow’s gate. Win or lose, we’ll have a clear schedule Saturday night. Security’s lighter on weekends. Fewer faculty on campus."

"Saturday’s in two days."

"Which gives Belle two days to map the wards properly." I looked at both of them. "And gives me two days to figure out if I’ve lost my mind."

Belle reappeared from around the corner where she’d apparently been eavesdropping.

"I knew you’d come around."

"I haven’t come around to anything. I’m considering the logistics."

"That’s just ’yes’ with extra steps."

Before I could respond, the door at the front of the lecture hall opened and Vale strolled back in looking like he’d been on vacation instead of checking his phone for fifteen minutes.

"Alright, children. Sit down. Shut up. Let’s talk about why most of you won’t live to see graduation."

The class settled immediately.

Vale pulled up another hologram showing gate mortality statistics broken down by year, house, and squad composition.

"First-year mortality rate across all five houses: twelve percent. That’s six of you dead before summer break. Second year drops to eight percent. Third year to five. Overall graduation rate from entry to licensed hunter status: sixty-two percent."

He let that sink in.

"Now. Let’s look at squad composition effects on survival."

The numbers shifted. Squads with balanced abilities showed seventy percent survival. Squads with redundant powersets dropped to fifty-five percent. Squads with weak links bottomed out at forty-two percent.

"Notice a pattern?"

A Sapphire girl raised her hand. "Balanced squads do better."

"Close. Cooperative squads do better. You can have perfect balance and still die if everyone’s fighting for individual glory instead of team survival."

Vale’s eyes found our group again.

"The Midnight Foxes are an interesting case study. On paper, you’re garbage. Four lottery kids and one guild affiliate who should be carrying Blair’s purse instead of leading a squad."

Misato’s shoulders tightened.

"But your coordination scores are consistently in the ninetieth percentile. Your communication is clean. Your tactical adaptation is better than squads with twice your individual stats."

He pulled up footage from our Wednesday simulation. The moment I’d held the rear guard against five wolves while the team extracted.

"This. Right here. Monroe makes an independent tactical decision that’s borderline suicidal. But Wayne’s shadows are already covering the approach before Monroe even commits. Love’s blast creates the escape window. Fox guides them through optimal pathing. Ayame coordinates the whole thing without micromanaging."

The footage froze on my face covered in wolf blood, spear raised, standing over three corpses.

"That’s what good squads look like. Trusting each other enough to make calls without permission."

He dismissed the image.

"Obsidian Elite, by contrast, has better stats across the board. But their coordination scores are inconsistent. Leone keeps breaking formation to protect Davenport. Tanaka operates independently. Mendoza second-guesses every call. Pope freezes under pressure."

Blair stood up. "Professor, that’s—"

"Accurate? I know. Sit down."

She sat.

Vale walked to the center of the room. "Tomorrow, both squads run identical gates. Whoever performs better takes first place going into winter evaluations."

He looked at Blair. Then at me.

"My money’s on the Foxes. You’re hungry. Elite’s just entitled."

Blair’s face went white, then red.

Vale checked his phone. "That’s all I’ve got. Class dismissed. Try not to die tomorrow. It creates paperwork I don’t want to fill out."

He left through the side door.

The classroom stayed silent for exactly five seconds before exploding into conversation.

I stood. Belle grabbed my arm.

"We need to talk. All of us. Now."

Jordan was already up. Naomi gathered her stuff. Misato appeared at the end of our row.

"My place. Twenty minutes. Don’t be late."

She walked out.

Belle looked at me. "You think Vale knows?"

"Knows what?"

"About Saturday. About the crystal. About—" She gestured vaguely at my chest. "Your whole situation."

"He’s a spatial manipulator with SS-rank abilities. He probably knows what I had for breakfast."

"That’s not comforting."

"Wasn’t meant to be."

We headed out into the hallway where students clustered in house groups, already placing bets on tomorrow’s outcome. I heard my name three times before we reached the stairs.

Naomi walked close enough that our shoulders brushed. "You scared?"

"Terrified."

"Good. Me too."

Belle was already texting furiously on her phone. Probably calculating odds and planning contingencies.

Jordan yawned. "Anyone else think Vale was weirdly supportive?"

"He called us garbage," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but like, affectionately. That’s new."

We reached the ground floor and headed across campus toward Summit. The California sun beat down with the kind of aggressive cheerfulness that felt personally offensive given the situation.

Tomorrow we’d either take first place or stay second.

Either way, Blair would be watching. Waiting for us to fail.

And Saturday, if we survived Friday, we’d be breaking into the academy’s restricted section to steal a Platinum-tier crystal worth enough money to change all our lives.

I was absolutely going to die before winter break.

But at least I’d die with decent clothes and a team that had my back.