Chapter 138: A Two-Star Safeguard

Chapter 138: Chapter 138: A Two-Star Safeguard

Chapter 138: A Two-Star Safeguard

"Are you free right now?"

Cyrus Calder looked at the message from Audra Sloane and finally remembered something he had not considered earlier.

What happened to the glamourkin ring’s influence over the weekend?

During school days, Audra could find him at lunch or during breaks if the lingering effect became troublesome. Saturday and Sunday were different. Unless they deliberately arranged to meet, there was no convenient reason for them to spend time together.

Maybe that was exactly why she had messaged him.

Cyrus picked up his phone and replied.

Cyrus: I am free right now. Did something happen?

Her answer came quickly.

Audra: Is it convenient for you to take a call?

Cyrus: Yeah, calling is fine.

A call request appeared less than a minute later.

Cyrus accepted it and put the phone to his ear.

"Cyrus, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear you."

He glanced toward the small balcony. The window was closed, which meant there was no reason to worry about anyone outside overhearing him.

"What happened?"

Audra stood alone in her bedroom, facing the distant view beyond the windows.

"I suddenly wanted to hear your voice."

Cyrus immediately connected that answer to the most obvious problem.

"Is the ring affecting you again?"

Audra paused.

"It might be."

It was not the ring.

She knew that perfectly well.

The urge to call him had come from her, not the glamourkin artifact sitting safely in its box. Admitting that, however, would make the conversation far harder to explain.

Cyrus had no reason to doubt her answer.

"This involves you because of something I asked you to help test," he said. "If anything feels wrong, contact me. I mean that."

Audra’s fingers tightened lightly around her phone.

"I will remember that."

Cyrus was genuinely concerned about her.

Of course he was.

The glamourkin ring was still in Audra’s possession.

Nothing could happen to one of his most valuable safeguards.

If Audra told him right now that the effect was getting worse and she needed him at the Sloane estate, Cyrus would probably put on his shoes, call a rideshare, and head downstairs immediately.

An irreplaceable emergency measure deserved proper maintenance.

On Audra’s side of the call, his concern landed very differently.

Warmth spread slowly through her chest.

She had not been wrong about him.

Cyrus appeared distant at first glance. He kept people away, hid behind his hair at school, and occasionally told small lies whenever a subject reached somewhere he did not want anyone touching.

Underneath that, he was far kinder than he let people see.

Audra had noticed it.

Then another name came to mind.

Faye had probably noticed too.

The realization took a little of the private satisfaction out of Audra’s thoughts.

Neither of them spoke for several seconds.

Cyrus broke the silence first.

"Where are you keeping the ring now?"

"It is inside the same box where I originally found it."

"And you are sure it cannot affect you from there?"

"As long as you are around, I do not think it can do much."

A faint embarrassment touched Audra’s expression after the words left her mouth.

Cyrus could not see it.

"Then I am here," he answered evenly.

Audra lowered her eyes.

The ring was there.

Cyrus was there.

From Cyrus’s perspective, the arrangement was considerably less romantic.

As long as the ring remained available, he remained available.

If the ring disappeared, he might need to reconsider his priorities and possibly disappear right along with it.

He still had two uses that seemed unlikely to carry the same harmful effect. Those opportunities were too valuable to waste.

If Audra had never told him the artifact had a limited number of safe uses, Cyrus might already have borrowed it and tried controlling every troublesome woman around him.

Then he could order them to work together and build a fifty-foot Frostborn robot out of snow.

Preferably one he could actually pilot.

Cyrus entertained the image for several seconds.

Audra, naturally, had no idea what kind of nonsense was happening on the other end of the call.

Her voice became a little more careful.

"Can I call you like this again?"

"You can call whenever you need to."

Audra’s mouth curved faintly.

"That makes me feel better."

She had never actually admitted the ring was responsible.

Cyrus had reached that conclusion on his own.

There was no reason to correct him.

They spoke a little longer before saying goodbye.

After the call ended, Cyrus stared at another contact on his screen.

Detective Maddox had been suspiciously quiet today.

After the performance she put on last night, she had not sent him even one message.

Was she saving the conversation for the next time she came to The Full Moon Lounge?

Cyrus could not guess.

He set the phone down.

Studying was easier.

By around seven that evening, Cyrus finally leaned back from his desk and stretched.

Several hours had disappeared into homework and review without him noticing.

Apparently serious studying had one useful quality. It made time move much faster.

Cyrus reached for his diary.

He checked the newest entries against his memory, making sure nothing from today felt unfamiliar or missing.

Everything remained intact.

That was reassuring.

He considered making something simple to eat and going to sleep early.

Maybe sleeping on a healthier schedule would somehow stop the ring on his finger from stealing more memories.

There was no evidence for that theory.

Cyrus chose to hope anyway.

Right as he was considering dinner, someone knocked on his apartment door.

He did not need much imagination to guess who stood outside.

When Cyrus opened the door, he arranged his expression into mild surprise.

"Ms. Whitlock?"

Daphne Whitlock stood there holding a packed dinner.

Again.

Cyrus looked from her face to the container.

He had specifically told her last night that she did not need to bring him food anymore.

Daphne extended the meal toward him and began speaking before he could refuse.

"I made too much. If you do not want it, you can throw it away."

She immediately continued.

"And if you do keep it, please do not treat it like something you owe me for."

Cyrus remained silent.

"I am doing this because I want to."

Daphne’s fingers tightened slightly around the container.

"So please take it."

Cyrus looked down at the food.

He had to stop himself from sighing.

Then he raised his attention back to her.

"Even if I eventually forget everything you did for me?"

Daphne answered without hesitation.

"That does not matter to me."

If anything, she would prefer that part to happen sooner.

The thought remained safely inside her head.

Daphne did not meet Cyrus’s eyes directly. Instead, she watched his hands.

When he finally lifted one toward the container, a small burst of relief rose through her.

She had already said everything she could say.

If he rejected her even after that, she genuinely did not know what else to do.

She could hardly force food into his mouth every day until the possible memory loss arrived.

Using force had already created enough trouble.

That method clearly did not work.

More importantly, Cyrus had taken the meal.

His movement held no obvious reluctance. If anything, the faint helplessness in his expression looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Cyrus had reached his own conclusion.

If he kept refusing, Daphne might actually break before her resolve did.

He had expected her to come back eventually.

He had not expected the woman he privately mocked for her fixation on his younger Frostborn form to have such weak resistance to guilt.

She was remarkably easy to manipulate once she believed she had wronged him.

That raised an uncomfortable question.

Was Daphne truly malicious, or was she simply deeply abnormal in one very specific direction?

If she were genuinely cruel, Cyrus probably would have used the alarm by now rather than leaving it within reach.

Daphne watched him accept the meal, decided she had achieved enough for one night, and returned to the neighboring apartment.

Cyrus closed his door.

He inspected the container.

The amount and arrangement made one thing obvious.

This was not leftover food from someone accidentally making too much.

Cyrus sighed.

Maybe he really was the worse person here.

He set the dinner on the table, then pulled out his diary.

On the page where he kept track of useful people and uncertain relationships, Daphne’s name already had a small star beside it.

Cyrus added another.

A two-star safeguard.

He stared at the marks with satisfaction.

The diary itself was becoming alarmingly detailed.

At this rate, he was one step away from recording what color socks he wore every morning.

That created another problem.

If Daphne ever found the diary and understood what Cyrus had been doing, he might actually be finished.

All the carefully measured weakness, the selective honesty, the memory-loss conversation, the attempt to redirect her guilt into protection would become painfully obvious.

Cyrus pictured Daphne reading through it.

The image was unpleasant enough that he immediately closed the cover.

He slid the diary beneath his mattress.

Then he stopped.

If he hid it too well, what happened when the memory loss became serious?

A future Cyrus who could not remember where the diary was hidden would gain nothing from the precautions of the present Cyrus.

He pulled it back out.

After considering several places, he settled on the nightstand.

Easy enough to find.

Not so exposed that someone walking into the apartment would immediately notice it.

That would have to work.

Cyrus ate the dinner Daphne had brought him, cleaned up, and went to bed.

Sleep came quickly.

The night passed without dreams.

For once, Cyrus slept extremely well.

The only disappointing part was that he did not wake naturally.

His phone kept vibrating beside the bed until the sound finally pulled him from sleep.

Cyrus reached blindly toward the nightstand, found the phone, and answered without checking the caller.

His mind was still foggy, but his voice gave almost none of that away.

"Did something happen?"

A familiar woman answered immediately.

"Come on a date with me."

Cyrus opened his eyes.

The voice sounded familiar enough that he pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the screen.

Detective Rhea Maddox.

Had she slept so badly that she had lost her mind?

Cyrus brought the phone back toward his ear and started to speak.

Rhea beat him to it.

"I will pay you too."