Chapter 22 Class 4.2: Gift Conversion
Chapter 22 Class 4.2: Gift Conversion
The heavy thud of the breakfast tray hitting the table served as the signal for my return to reality. I looked at Lulu; her eyes were brimming with concern, but my mind was elsewhere. Her words about the transportation to Facility Beta had left a deep, jagged wound in my thoughts.
Tonight.
I clutched the keycard hidden beneath my clothes. Its sharp edge dug into my skin, a cold reminder of the stakes. Do it now, Margo. Tonight is the night. But alongside that urge came the chilling voice of reason from the back of my mind.
Not yet.
If I rushed in now, armed with nothing but a stolen keycard and blind rage, both Leo and I would end up dead. I needed confirmation first. I needed to see with my own eyes if the boy I left behind was still there, or if he had become nothing more than a broken experiment under Viveca’s microscope. I needed to know if I was saving a brother or a ghost.
To do that, I needed a weapon more powerful than a gun. I needed influence.
“Don’t stare at those jewels as if you love them, Margo. Diamonds have no hearts. They are merely pieces of carbon waiting to be turned into bullets.”
Vera stood in the center of the Alteration Room. The space was crowded with mannequins and expensive silks, but behind the velvet curtains lay the Sanctum’s true business. Vera was the one who curated every detail of our appearance—including the “gifts” bestowed upon us by clients.
I placed the velvet box from Prince Azrael on the table. The diamond necklace shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights, seemingly mocking my suffering.
“Class 4.2: Gift Conversion,” Vera continued, inspecting each stone through her loupe. “An asset holding expensive jewelry is a target. But an asset who knows how to convert gifts into resources… that is a player.”
“I want to trade this necklace for information, Vera,” I said, dropping the persona. I didn’t need to pretend with her. “Viveca used my brother to control me. Now, I’m going to use this gem to find him.”
Vera looked at me, her eyes filled with a heavy recognition. “Do you know why I keep your mother’s old jewels hidden? Because gold does not rot, Margo. But people do. The women before you thought diamonds were protection. In the end, the jewelry outlived the women. Don’t be like them.”
It was a warning—a cold reminder that in Ivy Heights, the only true currency is information.
The sparkle of the diamonds on the table suddenly morphed into the glint of my father’s gold watch under the streetlights of the Southern Sector. I remembered being ten years old. A massive power crisis had hit our district, and many families couldn’t pay their bills. I watched my father meet a local official in the dead of night. He didn’t use his title; he used his resources.
“Roberto, why are you giving away your assets for people you don’t even know?” my mother had asked back then.
Papa smiled, ruffling my hair. “Margo, wealth is only paper until you use it to shield someone from the storm. We aren’t rich just to possess things. We are rich so we have the power to protect the defenseless.”
That night, I learned: wealth is a tool for extraction and protection. And now, I would use a Prince’s final “gift” to do exactly what my father did. Not for a city, but for the last of my family.
“I need access to the medical logs of Facility Beta,” I said, sliding Azrael’s necklace toward Vera. “Specifically, Subject 044. I need to see the live feed of his cell. I know you have connections with the maintenance crew that cleans the server rooms.”
Vera froze. “Subject 044? That’s too dangerous, Margo. Even the senior staff are watched by Viveca when it comes to that boy.”
“That’s why I’m paying this much,” I pointed to the diamonds. “Sell it on the black market. Use the money to grease the palms of the tech crew. Just five minutes of feed. I need to know if his soul is still intact.”
Vera looked at the necklace, then at me. In the Sanctum, every favor has a price, but Vera carried a debt of gratitude that money couldn’t settle. “Eleven tonight. Go to the Laundry Room archives. There’s a tablet there synced to the maintenance feed. Five minutes. After that, I’ll make sure the trail is erased.”
“Thank you, Vera.”
“Don’t thank me, child,” she whispered. “And don’t forget: once you see what’s on that feed, you might find yourself wishing he were dead rather than seeing what they’ve done to him.”
When eleven o’clock arrived, every step toward the Laundry Room felt like a walk toward the gallows. I used Julian’s keycard to bypass the archive door. The scent of bleach and hot steam greeted me.
I found the tablet hidden behind a stack of crisp uniforms. My fingers trembled as I brought the screen to life.
Loading… Facility Beta… Sector 4… Cell 044.
The screen flickered blue before revealing a dark, cramped room. No windows. Only a metal cot and a small table.
And there, sitting on the floor, was a boy.
My heart seemed to stop beating. Leo.
His hair was long and matted. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the bare bulb. But what hurt more was how he moved. He was rocking back and forth, staring at a blank wall. His arms were wrapped in bandages—angry reminders of the countless needles that had pierced his skin.
“Leo…” I whispered, a tear tracing a path down the tablet’s screen.
Slowly, he turned toward the camera. For a fleeting second, I saw the boy who used to chase me through the library. But it vanished instantly. His eyes were void of emotion. No light. He looked like a body forced to stay alive—a puppet whose strings were being pulled by the chemicals the Sanctum pumped into him.
Then, a faint sound came through the speakers. Leo was speaking.
“One… two… three…” he counted, punctuating each number by thudding his head against the wall. “Ate… almost… three AM… almost there…”
I covered my mouth to stifle a scream. He’s counting. He’s still waiting for me at 3:00 AM—the time we used to plan our escape. Even with his mind shattered, the memory of me saving him was the only thing he held onto.
He wasn’t just a subject. He was still my Leo. He was still in there.
The screen suddenly flickered. Access Terminated.
The five minutes were up.
I returned the tablet to its hiding place, my entire body vibrating with a primal fury. Now, I knew. Rescuing him wasn’t enough. I had to take him back whole. To do that, I needed the antidote to the drugs they were feeding him—the formulas I knew Viveca kept in her private lab.
I walked back to my quarters, my gait steadier than it had been in years.
Tonight was supposed to be the transport. But because of what I saw, I changed the plan. I wouldn’t rescue him tonight. Instead, I would let them move him. I would let them believe he was safe in the new facility.
While they were occupied with the transport, I would strike—I would take the antidote from Viveca’s own laboratory.
I looked at the Black Rose on my arm. Vera was right—jewelry is useless if you don’t use it. I traded a Prince’s diamonds for a truth that cut deeper than any blade.
“Hold on, Leo,” I whispered into the dark corridors of the West Wing. “I know what the enemy looks like now. And I promise you, before you hear the final count of ‘three,’ the entire Sanctum will be nothing but ash.”
I ran into Julian in the hallway. He didn’t look at me directly, but the tension between us was a physical weight. He knew I was up to something. He knew I had stolen his card.
But he didn’t know that the girl he loved was finished with crying.
The conversion was complete.
The information was secured.
And the extraction? The extraction would be a massacre.
“Goodnight, Sir,” I said as I brushed past him.
Julian stopped. “Eris. Do you have any idea what you’re playing with?”
“I do,” I replied without looking back. “I’m playing with a fire that your mother started. And this time, Julian, I won’t be the only one who burns.”
I entered my room and closed the door. The keycard was still under the mattress. The Royal Pass was in my pocket.
The pieces were on the board.
And for the first time in three years, I felt like the Master, not the Asset.