In short, Egrer was satisfied with the ball. It turned out beautiful, moderately pompous, and well-organized. If you ignored Nora's recent sabotage, of course. But right now, Egrer didn't want to think about the bad stuff.
Right now, he wanted to think about the dividends, earned through blood, sweat, and tears, that he would receive after this event. The PR for his music gang, Enversion's increased power, and simple respect.
The union would become a terrifying force, and Egrer, as its head, would be able to bend the headmaster to his will. Then Ozpin would have no other way out but to sign an unconditional surrender and fulfill any of his demands.
'Hm, and if I demand an office in his tower, which floor will I get?' the General Secretary of the union wondered involuntarily. He even started picking out furniture options in his head. 'The main thing is to pitch it to the common folk in such a way that they themselves think they need me to be given an office in the tower.'
Judging by the clock, the musical acts would begin in forty minutes. Only forty minutes until Egrer's life divided into "Before" and "After." Forty cycles of the second hand, after which he would make himself known to all of Beacon... and from there, the world wasn't far off. Just think how far he had come.
He still hadn't fully processed that very soon, another checkmark would appear in his notebook.
This was the best day of his life. Egrer had never felt so happy before. Even the failure of all the matchmaking plans for Jaune and Weiss no longer gnawed at his soul. I mean, really, big deal, some minor thing. An insignificant detail not worth paying attention to when an event of epochal importance was standing right next to it.
To which there were thirty-nine minutes left.
The greatest musician of the very-very near future couldn't wait for this moment. Egrer almost had to force himself to enjoy the party, otherwise he definitely would have spent all this time in front of a clock, carefully keeping track of every passing second.
The snack table nearby was imperceptibly, but irrevocably, being emptied. Food meant for ten people fit into his stomach as if it were meant to be, as if any normal organism was designed to accommodate such an amount of food. Only the blue cheese remained untouched, as Egrer had rather traumatic childhood memories associated with this product. And although he understood that the mold here was the "Good" kind, it didn't cancel out the feelings of food poisoning surfacing in his head.
Ever since then, he basically hadn't eaten any kind of cheese.
Keeping himself occupied by listening to the music didn't work out either; it had already gotten slightly stale. All these violin wailings, piano tinklings, and the hum of trumpets sounded more or less the same from composition to composition. Perhaps he should have pushed Weiss yesterday, who was the one in charge of selecting music for the ball, so she wouldn't pick anything so conservative. Or at least not in such large quantities.
He desperately wanted to listen to something with drums, guitar, and at least some kind of vocals. Then again, in exactly thirty-eight minutes he'd have the opportunity to make all of that happen...
Egrer shook his head and tried to focus on literally anything else, since he had already eaten all the food nearby. Ren had gone off to dance with Nora, so there'd be no chatting with him anymore; Yort and Illmond were keeping an eye on Magenta, and joining them meant volunteering for the euthanasia of his nervous system. Their brave leader was way too energetic today, let them deal with her themselves. He didn't want to butt in on Jaune and Pyrrha at all; romance was in full swing over there, he might ruin something. Which just left Weiss...
Weiss. To be honest, he was a little scared to approach her. And embarrassed. People would stare at them again, as if they'd just signed a marriage contract. And judging by the fact that she was similarly trying not to cross paths with him anymore, similar feelings were overcoming her.
Egrer was just about to head to another table and sweep all the food from there, but his attention was caught by a rapidly gathering crowd near the stairs leading up.
The scene presented was not the most joyful and was even alarming. At least judging by the bloodthirsty faces of the students, who sensed an impending brawl. A Huntsman school, what do you expect.
Gunner stood on the stairs in an old-fashioned jacket and trousers, looking down at Hat with easily readable superiority. Something had clearly happened between them.
"Curly, you're reachin' for the wrong babe," Hat hissed, wearing his hat even with his ballroom suit. "I'm tellin' you nicely, back off. I asked her to dance first, so why are you buttin' in?"
"From the good lady's heart I have yet to hear 'No',
as you can see~"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, you're a big fucking poet, just get outta here already," Hat interrupted. Surprised gasps rippled through the hall. No one had ever dared to interrupt the poet so brazenly before. "I saw her first."
Gunner slowly and theatrically raised his hand, pointing it at his opponent. All the students standing behind Hat immediately parted, as if in fear that he could shoot from his fingers. Only an uncomprehending Egrer remained in place, who was immediately dragged aside by a familiar tall figure with metal bits in his face.
"Tarzan, don't get in the line of fire," Joker said anxiously.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Beefin' over a chick," grunted The Rock, whom Egrer hadn't even noticed in the crowd until now. The midget crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. "Prank got out of hand, long story short."
"How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart so hard?!"
"You always say that, and Sensei has to clean up the mess. Have some pity on the guy, he's already completely gray."
Egrer involuntarily looked where those two were looking. By the punch table stood the gray-haired Mistralian with long eyebrows and a mustache, consuming punch on an even larger scale than Egrer himself had recently. The guy was clearly on edge and had no intention of getting involved in anything.
Attention was drawn to Gunner; his voice was full of venom:
"Right here stands a student who's ill,
His fate is inexorable, I'm sure.
Take away the medicine and the pill:
For the disease of love there is no cure!"
"And maybe I did fall in love!" Hat blushed slightly. "Couldn't come up with anything better than a tease, huh? Beat it, or I won't be held responsible for what I do."
"You are the one who scorns a name's true power,
You are the one whom terror soon will devour!
And I shall say, without needless poetesses,
That they have named you — Dantes."
The surrounding students gasped even louder than the last time.
"That's it, you curly-haired prick." Hat pulled off his glove and threw it at Gunner. "Duel. Right now."
"Prank got out of hand, prank got out of hand!" Joker panicked, starting to tear at his hair. "He called him by his real name! How does he even know it?! That's it, it's over, Gunner's toast."
"Nah, Hat's the one who's toast," The Rock objected calmly. "Tarzan, save the situation."
"How am I even involved?!" Egrer squeaked in fright. He had absolutely zero desire to get involved in a squabble between fourth-years, each of whom could fold even Pyrrha into a pretzel.
"Ain't you like the main organizer of the ball? Organize a proper duel for 'em outside the hall. Otherwise they'll end up killing the spectators."
"Paragraph six, chapter twelve!
The Dueling Code is crystal clear,
The choice of weapon falls to me,
And I choose the pistol here!"
"Easy! Hand over your junk, and I'll bludgeon you to death with it!" Gunner immediately pulled two half-wooden, single-shot pistols from his belt. He tossed one of them to Hat.
"Tarzan, they're about to start blasting." Joker began shaking Egrer by the shoulder. The latter merely shook his head negatively, refusing to even think about interfering. "Tarzan, the teachers won't step in, they're not allowed! These two morons are about to ruin your whole party, do something."
The duelists descended the stairs and had already begun pacing away from each other. After taking exactly fifteen steps, they froze back to back. The pistols were raised and pressed to their chests.
Both Hat and Gunner looked quite serious. For some reason, Egrer knew for a fact that after the first and only shot, which wouldn't even damage their Auras much, they would simply use their weapons as clubs. And wreck the whole area to the Grimm.
As much as he wanted to bury his head in the sand, as much as he wanted to just walk away with the excuse "But I'm just a freshman, who am I to boss them around?", he had to do something. And right now, because later they wouldn't be so easy to stop.
"Stop!" Egrer yelled, taking a step forward. The eyes of the entire hall converged on him. "Hold your duel in the dueling hall, or at least outside. Don't ruin the party for everyone else."
The duelists, who had already been ready to begin the fight, simply walked outside without any further words or objections. The crowd of onlookers immediately occupied all available spaces by the windows, leaving the slower ones without even a chance to see how it would all end. And nobody wanted to go outside into the night, leaving the cozy festive atmosphere.
Among the spectators was Yort, who had brazenly abandoned his post and left Illmond alone to keep an eye on Magenta. Except the hikki himself needed keeping an eye on too...
A few seconds later, two synchronized shots rang out, followed by the sounds of wood whacking against wood. The audience was thrilled, and completely safe to boot.
"You saved us!" Joker almost sobbed. He hoisted Egrer off the ground and hugged him tightly. "If you ever need to get your hands on anything, just whistle! I'll smuggle anything into Beacon for you, and even for free! But only the first time."
"I don't need anything," Egrer brushed him off with difficulty. He wasn't very comfortable feeling himself at such a distance from the ground; this beanpole was way too tall...
"Aw, don't be shy," he whispered in his ear. "Cigarettes, booze, for a premium I'll even smuggle in weed. Nothing's too good for a friend."
It seemed an organized smuggling operation was taking place at Beacon...
"Wait, you weren't by any chance the one who hooked a certain red-haired menace up with a disco ball, a smoke machine, and lasers?"
"Uh... I don't share confidential information about my clients." Joker averted his gaze and set Egrer down on the ground. "So even if I did, I ain't sayin' nothing. See ya!"
And with those words, he simply ran off. The Rock mumbled apologies for his crazy friend and followed after him.
"Why didn't they just nickname him Clown? He is a clown. A straight-up clown."
Egrer took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Having dealt with one problem, he decided to immediately move on to the next.
Since Yort had abandoned his post, there was no one left to keep an eye on Illmond and his perverted nature, which was currently keeping an eye on Magenta. And in general, leaving a hikki alone in a crowd of unfamiliar (or mostly unfamiliar) people was fraught with the risk of a nervous breakdown and hysterics in a public place.
Fortunately, Illmond was just sitting on a bench with an apathetic expression, glued to his Scroll much like the other captives who had been forced to attend the ball by their friends. Except that while the other sociophobes had at least dressed for the occasion, one particular hikki had wrapped himself up in his coat almost to his head.
'I didn't drag him out here to draw his hentai, but to have fun,' Egrer thought, shaking his head.
"So, how are you liking the party?" He plopped down next to Illmond with ostentatious swagger. "Worth it?"
"Not really. I'd rather be watching anime."
"Who'd have doubted."
"Plus, it's kinda boring here."
"That's because you're not even trying to join the fun. You're sitting in the corner just watching, of course you're bored! You could at least talk to someone."
"With who? With Yort?" Illmond snorted. "He's a pretty crappy conversationalist, you know it."
"There's a whole crowd of potential conversationalists here," Egrer noted, sweeping his gaze across the hall. "Pick whoever catches your eye."
"I'm perfectly fine sitting by myself."
"You just said you were bored."
"There are many other ways to alleviate boredom besides talking to random people." Illmond gave a pointed nod toward his Scroll.
"Now that's actually boring. How do you even manage to sit on that thing all day? Give it here, come on. Otherwise you're gonna miss the whole evening like this."
"Did you come here to deprive me of my only solace on this cursed day? I will fight you."
"No, but seriously, at least try to feel the festive spirit! Look how dressed up, cheerful, and open everyone is. Even if you walk up to the first person you meet and say, 'Cool ball, dude,' you've basically already found yourself a new friend."
"Your sarcasm is uncalled for."
"I'm serious, actually. Even just sitting next to a stranger is a huge step in overcoming your social anxiety. You know what Jaune's mom used to say? Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. A very wise woman, I think."
"Eg, don't try to turn me into some life-rejoicing infantile imbecile." For some reason, Egrer felt like he was the one being referred to here. It even stung a little. "I have enough old friends. And if new ones turn out to be as hyper-sociable as you are, I won't be able to take it and will jump off a bridge again."
"Hyper-sociable sounds like some kind of insult coming from you. You can't overdo sociability, how do you even imagine that?"
"I have a living example sitting right in front of my eyes," Illmond replied without blinking. "Let's just agree that we are two extremes and not argue about this topic again. There's no right or wrong here, we just look at this issue differently."
"And you're seriously going to claim to me that you're perfectly fine as is?" Illmond simply nodded, but Egrer didn't believe the sincerity of this gesture for a second. "Even a kid can see that you're absolutely not fine."
"You are the one who derives happiness from socializing with people. You have your ways of being happy, I have mine. In your understanding, solitude is something terrible, you fear it. But personally, for me, that word is associated with peace, tranquility, and especially with a surge of creativity, because no one is bothering me or getting in my way."
With those words, Illmond cast a pointed look at Egrer, causing him to roll his eyes and admit that no matter what he did, he would never understand him.
"You're just trying to mold me into your own likeness, because you don't understand." It was as if Illmond had read his mind. "It's hard for you to imagine how someone like me can even exist. You see everything with your own eyes, but your brain is trying to somehow justify the anomaly. It's as if a human saw a Faunus for the first time and demanded an explanation from him as to why he is a Faunus. Or if we, being white, went and bugged that Black guy over there." Illmond nodded toward a laughing Black guy. "You have to agree, it's idiocy. He doesn't have to invent excuses or reasons for why he's Black. He just is, and that's it."
"Ill, you can come up with all the excuses you want, but the fact remains—you live a couple of days a week at most. The rest of the time you merely exist. That is exactly what I keep hammering into your head all the time."
"Is that really something that absolutely has to be fixed with all one's might?"
"Yes, by the Grimm, yes!" Egrer couldn't hold back. His voice rose on its own. "At the very least, it's definitely not something that can simply be ignored!"
"And what if it cannot be changed? Each of us has our own drug. Someone is hooked on the needle of universal approval, someone wants to be the best, someone just loves playing music. And if we're hooked on something, switching is useless. I won't be able to get rid of my addiction. Even if I just chat with everyone in a row, I still won't get my due dose of dopamine. That's your drug, not mine."
"Smooth, very smooth." Egrer nodded with exaggerated seriousness. "But what I see here is simple social anxiety, multiplied by laziness and sprinkled with an inferiority complex. You can change, but you don't want to. You know, you've got a broken slave complex. Instead of fixing the situation, you try to come up with excuses for it. 'Things aren't that bad,' 'I'm perfectly fine as is,' 'If you think about it, my situation has a ton of pluses.' Sounds exactly like you, seriously."
"Fine, I'll tell you," Illmond hissed in annoyance. "It runs in the family. My mom is just like me. If you listened to Oobleck in class, you know how the Great War started a hundred years ago."
Egrer nodded, he had known about this piece of history since his elementary orphanage school days. Mistral and Atlas began stuffing their citizens with antidepressants and banned all individuality and art, hoping to reduce Grimm incursions. Vale, however, as the cultural center of the world at the time, was not at all interested in such a turn of events, nor was their ally, Vacuo.
"The drugs had side effects," Illmond continued. It was clearly not easy for him to say this. "Some of them are passed down to children."
"Are you trying to say..."
"Yeah, it traces all the way back to my great-great-grandmother. Most likely my kids will have the same problem. If I even have any..."
Egrer had heard about this. For post-war, defeated Mistral, curing this affliction had been a real ordeal. Some people still bore the consequences of that project to rid the population of emotions. And Illmond, apparently, was one of them.
"And once again, sounds smooth," Egrer sighed. "You actually believe it yourself. Thanks for the revelation, of course, but Ill, you can live normally. For a few days a month, definitely. There's just something stopping you from being like that all the time, and it's definitely not some disease. Yes, it probably plays a part, but it's not omnipotent and can't turn you into an emotionless vegetable!"
Illmond pointedly returned to his Scroll. He clearly was not in the mood to continue the dialogue.
Well, apparently Egrer had miscalculated when he thought that by attending the ball, the hikki would immediately taste the flavor of life. On the contrary, Egrer even began to doubt his own righteousness a little. Maybe Illmond really didn't need that much social interaction in his life? Maybe he didn't need to be happy at all to... well, to live a fulfilling life?
Overall, Egrer refused to understand this approach. He admitted that maybe he was slightly wrong and pushing a bit too hard, but he continued to consider his sacred mission to be the one true path. Illmond had to become happy.
Likewise, he refused to admit that while it is possible to drag a reclusive hikki out of his room, there is no way to drag the room out of the hikki.
"Alright, enough with the empty polemics," Egrer said in a conciliatory tone. "I won't be able to convince you with words anyway, I just need to show you in practice how awesome it is to make new acquaintances. Watch and learn, a pro is about to show you how to strike up a friendship with the first person we meet."
Illmond buried his face in his hands, while Egrer flagged down a couple of students. And for the purity of the experiment, he chose non-Beaconers, just so they were literal first-comers.
"Hey guys, so how are you liking the party?"
"Top-notch!" The red-haired girl with two voluminous pigtails gave a thumbs up. Looking at her, it immediately became clear that the rule "Bright hair means a bright personality" was functioning without fail as usual. In Egrer's memory, only the redheaded Pyrrha behaves very reservedly, but that is merely the exception that proves the rule.
And then Egrer saw a perkily swishing cat tail behind her back. Illmond began to maliciously giggle as his friend started to sniffle and suppress a rising sneeze.
The second student, a dark-skinned guy with a cool fedora, didn't even notice anything strange. He was a little surprised that some stranger had just struck up a conversation with him out of nowhere, but gladly accepted the invitation to sit next to them.
"Yeah, a pretty decent party. First time seeing~"
"Achoo! Sorry, you keep going, keep going."
Oh, if Egrer had known there was a cat here, he wouldn't have even looked in their direction. But backing down wasn't an option; he had to show Illmond that you can very easily make a new friend if you just want to.
"I heard there are gonna be musical acts too," the tailed girl said, dispersing toxic feline miasmas with her joyful tail-wagging.
"Achoo! Yeah, there will be. We're performing, by the way!" Egrer threw a friendly arm around Illmond's neck, attempting with this simple gesture to snatch his Scroll away from him. But the hikki gripped it tightly, refusing to let his most prized treasure be yanked from his hands. For a couple of seconds they struggled like that, pretending that nothing weird was going on.
Eventually Egrer got mad and used his other hand, managing to wrestle the gadget away.
The other two silently watched this, smiling foolishly.
"So..." the redhead began, intending to quickly dispel the awkward atmosphere. "What kind of song are you going to sing?"
"O-o-oh, believe me, it is a genuine masterpiece," Egrer assured her. He decided to introduce himself at the same time, because they should know the name of the most famous rock performer of the near future. "Egrer Peleni, nice to meet you. My friend's name is Illmond, but just call him Ill."
"I'm Flynt," the guy said.
"Neon." The redhead extended a hand, and Egrer carefully shook it with just his fingertips. He tried to minimize skin contact between them, but could already feel goosebumps and a red rash spreading up his arm. "Who greets a lady like that at a ball? You're supposed to kiss it!"
'I'm a dead man,' flashed through his mind.
A serious dilemma stood before Egrer: refuse and paint himself in a less-than-flattering light, thereby endangering the execution of a successful introduction, which in turn would convince Illmond that it's impossible to just up and befriend the first person you meet; or die.
Crappy choices all around.
'Here goes nothing.' Egrer held his breath, his face hesitantly moving closer to the back of Neon's hand.
His cheeks flushed red, and beads of sweat trickled down his temple. From the outside, it might have seemed like he was just very flustered and shy, and not battling death from ruptured lungs via the loudest sneeze in the entire history of allergy sufferers. Inside, everything was literally tearing apart from the barely contained urge to unleash a sneeze so juicy it would simply sweep this cat away with hurricane-force winds.
"Eg, don't," Illmond whispered, starting to inconspicuously tug at his blazer. "Don't, Eg."
Perhaps, if he did it quickly, someone would manage to administer first aid to Egrer and call a qualified doctor. Because if Dr. Mungelier ended up helping him, it would be easier to just shoot himself right there.
The poor guy's lips almost touched Neon's hand, when Illmond grabbed him by the hair and yanked him hard backward. Egrer's head jerked up, and out of surprise he lost control of his lungs and sneezed so loudly it sounded more like the sonic boom of a supersonic fighter jet. A couple of balloons near the very ceiling swayed distinctly to the side.
"My friend is allergic to cats!" Illmond declared unceremoniously, having successfully pretended to be part of the furniture until then. He dragged Egrer, who was frantically rubbing his nose, across himself onto the adjacent seat.
"Ill!" Egrer wheezed louder than usual; because of that sneeze he had almost torn his vocal cords. "You don't say things like that to Faunus, it's considered impolite in our culture."
"It's better than you ending up in the hospital!"
Neon and Flynt silently observed this scene, smiling foolishly. Again.
At this rate, Egrer was never going to make friends with them. And even the fact that Illmond had started participating in the conversation didn't please him at all. He had to do something, or the hikki would only become more convinced that he was right.
"Do you guys play any instruments?" Egrer asked, peeking out from behind Illmond.
"Took piano lessons as a kid," Neon answered, trying to turn so that her joyfully flicking tail was almost out of sight. "Then I kinda gave it up. Got boring."
"And I play the trumpet," Flynt said. "And unlike her, I didn't quit and still play today."
"Pfft, if I'd figured out how to make a weapon out of a piano, I wouldn't have quit either," Neon snorted.
"Wait, wait, wait." Egrer waved his hands frantically. "Flynt, are you trying to say you fight with a musical instrument?!"
"What's wrong with that?"
Being an exclusively creative personality, he couldn't tolerate such an attitude toward the beautiful arts.
"Blasphemy!" Illmond had to duck, as Egrer, clambering over him, surged forward with his fists raised. "How dare you crossbreed music and weaponry?! Such chimeras shouldn't exist, it's disgusting!"
"Hey, when you blow your horn and all your enemies are blasted away, that's badass, not disgusting!"
"And you're actually bragging about it?!" Egrer rolled up his sleeves. "I'm gonna punch your lights out."
"Eg, calm down!" Illmond shouted, blocking him from getting within striking distance of Flynt.
But Egrer had no intention of calming down.
"What kind of sick bastard do you have to be to think of crossbreeding something as holy as music with something as cursed as a murder weapon?!"
"What the hell is your problem?!" Flynt started rolling up his sleeves too. Being an exclusively creative personality, he couldn't tolerate such an attitude toward the beautiful arts. "It's cool!"
"It's disgusting!"
"Boys, let's not fight over such petty things." Neon tried to reason with them, but to little avail.
In the end, she had to drag a crazed Flynt away from a no-less crazed Egrer, who was being dragged away by Illmond. Finding themselves at a distance from one another, they simply adopted the most indifferent looks possible and independently stormed off to opposite ends of the ballroom.
"Anyway," Egrer began, "I'm sure you saw that just starting a conversation with the first person you meet is totally doable. We just got a little unlucky that our interests and tastes didn't exactly align. Well, that, and the fact that she was a cat Faunus."
"Unlike you, I wouldn't even be able to start the conversation."
"You haven't even tried!"
"Because I won't be able to. Why do something that's doomed to fail?"
"Ill, you're making me wanna curse. But whatever! I just need to find some other socially anxious hikkis for you, and from there you guys will find your own topics to discuss."
"Eg, it doesn't work like that," Illmond objected, but went ignored.
On the benches along the wall sat all sorts of outcasts who just didn't want to stand out, and various captives much like Illmond himself. They hadn't come here for fun and good vibes, but simply to "Serve their time." They sit there with sour faces, staring at their Scrolls; at most, they'll sip some punch and snack on something.
Perfect. A cunning plan naturally crept into his head.
"Having fun?" Egrer brazenly plopped down between two such characters, dragging Illmond onto the bench with him. "How do you guys like the ball?"
One of them wore glasses and surpassed even Illmond in bang length. He was very shaggy in general, his locks of hair sticking out in all directions as if a comb was his family's sworn blood enemy for the tenth generation running. From him and his terrified stare, it became instantly clear that the only other people he had ever seen were in dating sims.
The second guy, conversely, was clean-shaven and reacted more rationally—he tried to pretend he hadn't heard the question. Although, judging by the size of his ears, this jug-eared kid should have heard a mosquito's squeak at the other end of Beacon. Maybe he's an elephant Faunus?
Their reaction was expected; Egrer had anticipated it. And therefore—he had been able to prepare.
"I'm Eg, and this is Ill."
The shaggy guy tried to react somehow, but only a questioning wheeze escaped his mouth, while the shaved-head continued to play the statue. Also expected.
"Oh! I'll be right back." Egrer headed over to the table with a large bowl filled with punch. Pouring four glasses at once, he returned and shoved a drink into everyone's hands, trying not to drop anything in the process. "Did you guys know the punch on this table is different from the rest? It's got lemon. Tastes like lemonade."
A pregnant silence was his answer. Illmond hid his face in his hands, quietly repeating "So cringe", but he didn't even suspect that this was the exact reaction Egrer was trying to elicit.
Now it was time for the second phase.
"Ill, I'm gonna step away again for a sec," Egrer said, clapping Illmond on the shoulder. "You guys have fun! Making new friends is just so awesome, ain't it!"
A sly smile crept onto his face all on its own.
Once Egrer had dissolved into the crowd, he took up a position in the distance and began to observe.
Left to themselves, the three hikkis just sat in silence for a while. For about a minute, they looked around awkwardly and tried not to notice each other. But then the ice broke. The shaved guy asked something, and from Illmond's reaction, it became clear that the raised topic had touched every fiber of his being.
Egrer even knew exactly what they were talking about right now. Illmond was clearly complaining about his life and one specific, hyper-sociable friend who wouldn't leave him alone. And judging by the agreeing nods in response, they had the exact same problem in their own teams. The hikkis will surely be filled with solidarity and mutual sympathy.
There you have it—the first friendships that Illmond forged almost entirely by himself, with only a minor nudge from the outside. Something to be proud of.
'It doesn't work like that, right, Ill?' Egrer chuckled mentally. 'Now you'll know better than to argue with a pro.'
A quick glance at the clock showed that there were ten minutes left until the musical acts. He'd better occupy that time with something, otherwise Egrer would eat all the remaining snacks in the hall.
And as if echoing his desire, the crowd by the windows began to chatter in disappointment. However the duel between those arguers played out, the finale clearly hadn't satisfied the fans. The spectators began to disperse.
Among those leaving was Yort, who was trudging along, muttering something under his breath.
"Who won?" Egrer asked him.
"Friendship, motherfuckers. They smashed each other's faces in for a bit, and then were all like 'Nah, fighting over a chick is disrespecting yourself'. Bitched out, basically, nobody wanted to lose, so they decided to call it a draw. Cowards, makes me sick."
Yort took up a spot next to him, leaning his massive back against a marble column. Together they began watching a resting Magenta, who had expended all her energy on dancing and was now happily eating meat. They wouldn't have to expect any crazy antics from her anytime soon.
"Yeah, cowardice in all its glory," Egrer smirked. "How do you like the party?"
"It's aight."
They fell silent.
Yort had always seemed a bit alienated from the others. He rarely talks with them, and spends most of his free time at the gym. What tied him to the rest was temporary necessity and academy rules, rather than any concept like "Friendship".
So Egrer did not doubt for a second—if Yort had the opportunity to trade them for something that would help him achieve his ultimate goal, he would absolutely do it.
But despite this, sometimes it was actually possible to have a normal conversation with him.
"Could you leave a more detailed review?" Egrer asked with a smile. "I'm interested in your opinion. Also please rate us five stars on our app."
"It's a ball. What, you think I know how to tell a bad one from a good one? At least there's grub."
"Well, you know, you could at least criticize it for something. The worst thing that can happen is when people just walk past your work and don't even say a word. And then you have to guess what they didn't like and what you did wrong."
"It's aight, I'm tellin' ya. Food, punch, dancing, it's all here. How else am I supposed to praise it?"
"Well, say a couple more nice words about the ball."
"I'm gonna start trashing it right now, you hear me," Yort answered irritably.
"That works too. Constructive criticism is absolutely essential for personal growth." Egrer raised a finger importantly. "If you only receive praise, you'll get bogged down in narcissism and start to degrade. This is especially important in creative endeavors."
"Go nag someone else."
"But others are exactly like you. 'It's aight, it's fine'. You listen to them, and it immediately feels like nothing is actually fine. Is it really that hard to say something specific?"
"It's a kickass ball. Happy?"
"In what does its kickassedness consist? Be more specific, Yort, more specific!"
"You're a pain in the ass..." He rolled his eyes but began to think. "The balloons are cool. The duel was cool. Alright, what else? When this ballroom crap finishes playing, the real tunes will start. That's kinda a plus too, I guess."
Egrer nodded sagely at every point.
"See, that wasn't hard at all. When organizing the next ball, I'll take your review into account and focus on my strengths. It took you a couple of seconds to think, and for me it's pleasant and helpful."
"Too lazy to think."
"Oh, you consumers." Egrer shook his head. "You won't even say a nice or even an unpleasant word. You'll just scarf it down as quickly as possible and go scarf down something else. You should be ashamed, ashamed."
Yort didn't look ashamed in the least. He clearly believed he was well within his rights to simply partake of the provided benefits and then silently leave. Egrer, however, as a creator and organizer, found this approach abhorrent. Even a couple of specific words explaining exactly what was liked could make the day so much more pleasant.
"You know, when you're playing the drums, I'm purposefully not going to comment on it, got it?"
"Scare a hedgehog with a bare ass why don'tcha, I'm better off without your remarks anyway. Besides, I don't need nobody's comments, I only care about my own opinion. I can point out my own mistakes or praise myself."
"Outside perspective is absolutely necessary. If you just stew in your own juices, nothing better than a bland stew will ever come of you."
"Your fancy-ass analogies again? Need I remind you that I've got one too, and it works for all occasions? Go f~"
"It's just impossible to have a conversation with you," Egrer rolled his eyes.
"It is what it is, you're no prize yourself. You latch onto people and won't let go, like a literal leech."
"Well, you know..." He was interrupted by his Scroll beeping; a timer went off. Time had flown by unnoticed during the conversation. "Yort, it's time for real rock!"
"What, already?" Yort didn't look particularly thrilled. "Well, at least some real action is starting. Let's roll."
Weaving through the partying crowd, they headed to the small room behind the stage, where the instruments of everyone performing that evening were stored.
Egrer was happy that the fruits of his painstaking labor—because of which he had skimped on sleep and even meals—would be appreciated. The future great musician did not doubt for a second that the score would be at least an eight out of ten. After all, what could be better than a song written from the soul, possessing a deep, multi-layered meaning, a moral, and excellent musical execution?
That's right—nothing.
It was rare for Egrer to smile this widely of his own free will; usually, it only happened out of nerves or a lie. In high spirits, and beaming at the surrounding world with a pearly white grin from ear to ear, he walked straight toward his dream. The gold tooth gleamed, blinding bystanders.
As he walked, Egrer threw his legs so far forward it was as if he wanted to kick his shoes off, and he swung his arms so wildly it was dangerous to get close—he might swat you! Bystanders parted before him, respectfully giving way to the greatest musician of the near future.
Students stared after him in bewilderment, scratching the backs of their heads; only one thought spun in their minds: 'How can I be as happy as him? What do I need to do?' And the answer was simple: write a song, then memorize it until it haunts your dreams, and finally play it before an honorable audience. Only this and nothing else!
Anticipation seized every cell of his body, which filled with an unprecedented lightness, as if it could leap to the moon at any second. The all-consuming need to be heard would finally be satisfied. The beast that had taken up residence in Egrer would soon be fed, but right now it was just drooling, staring through the glass of a running oven. Patiently thumping its tail and emitting contented low growls whenever the timer crossed the threshold of another minute.
But in his path stood a short blonde with a long, thick braid. She smiled, curtsied playfully, and held out her hand, as if inviting him to dance.
"Sorry, but I gotta go right now." Egrer walked right past, tossing her out of his head the very moment she appeared in it. Except, having left the girl behind him, he completely did not expect to see her right in front of him again. "What? How did you~"
This time she didn't stand on ceremony and simply dragged him to the center of the hall, where couples were already twirling in full swing. To avoid crashing into their neighbors, he had to dance in time with the rest. The blonde clearly realized that her partner wasn't a particularly skilled dancer, and so she took the lead.
"No, seriously, I have to go. I have a stage performance soon." For some reason, he was easily able to understand the stranger's interested look. "I'll be performing a song. I wrote it myself, by the way."
The blonde's face very vividly conveyed the full extent of her respectful surprise. As if she was proud of him.
"I hope you like it. I poured my soul into the lyrics! Wrote about burning issues."
The stranger nodded with a smile. Egrer couldn't help but wonder—what if she was an incognito fan of his? Then all these oddities were easily explained. She's just crazy about his songs, which she hasn't even heard yet.
"Maybe you could at least introduce yourself? Everybody knows me, thanks to the student newspaper for the obituary, but I've only caught a glimpse of you somewhere."
The blonde shook her head and ostentatiously cast her eyes to the floor.
"Pfft, yeah right. You dragged me onto the dance floor by force, despite my objections, and now you're calling yourself shy?"
A huff and a stuck-out tongue were his answer.
Suddenly she pressed against him and buried her face in his chest. Egrer was slightly taken aback, but there was zero eroticism in her actions; it was simply as if she had missed him terribly. At first he even thought it was some kind of dance move, but the neighboring couples weren't doing anything of the sort.
"You know you're a bit weird? Not to mention scary." The blonde stepped on his foot, crushing his pinky toe. She had already raised her foot for a second strike, but Egrer apologized just in time. "I was joking! You're normal, completely normal! And not scary at all!"
When the dance ended, she hugged him. And so tightly that it even became somewhat awkward. But if that was the price of popularity, he had no objections. In any case, Egrer just stood there with his arms held out, afraid to even touch her. As if this was the very first time he'd ever seen a member of the female sex.
"Alright, that's enough dancing," Egrer carefully pushed the blonde back. "I gotta run."
No sooner had Egrer run halfway to the stage than a sudden realization hit him.
'Wait... Short stature, familiar gestures and facial expressions, she didn't say a single word...'
"MOM?!"
Before any genuinely constructive thoughts entered his head, he felt sad that he hadn't returned her hug.
Egrer spun around, but that blonde had already wandered off somewhere.
Oblivious to the sideways glances, he dashed up to the second floor and scanned the hall from above. Neo was nowhere to be seen. Surely she had already changed her disguise or, conversely, altered her appearance solely to meet with Egrer, after which she reverted to her old one.
But why did she approach him? What was she even doing at Beacon? Struck by yet another sudden guess, Egrer immediately began rummaging through his pockets, and soon found a sealed envelope.
«To my brave little wolf. You are covered by an illusion; outwardly, no one will recognize you. Don't look around, and act naturally. Read this in a safe place.»
Egrer forced down the urge to do exactly that—look around to make sure no one was tailing him right now. And since Mom decided to give such a warning, it meant there was a tail. Without raising his head, Egrer shoved the letter back into his pocket and slipped into the utility closet.
If he looked like someone else right now, the watcher was unlikely to be looking specifically at him.
It was a little cramped in the dusty, junk-filled room, but he didn't care in the slightest. With a trembling hand, he tore open the envelope, pulling out a page scrawled with handwriting and a second, smaller envelope.
Egrer wasn't sure if he should be reading these letters right now. He had the most important event of his life looming, which he was already running a little late for.
But he couldn't help but at least take a peek out of the corner of his eye. Maybe it was something very important.