(TATB) Ch 38: Unexplainable Things Vu’s Suspicion!

(Victor)

I was a mess.

Sweaty. Smelly. Covered in flecks of lint and foot grime. My shirt clung to me like damp regret, and my hair looked like I'd been caught in a windstorm of someone's sock drawer. Which, honestly, wasn't too far off. The worst part? I smelled like foot. Not just a little. I mean full-on, freshly-peeled-sock, "why is there still toe jam in my pocket?" foot.

And for what? A "punishment." Skylar called it a punishment. I called it a traumatic spa treatment.

I could still feel the rubbery terrain of her sole under my fingertips. Rough, but somehow... damp? There were trenches so deep I had to rappel down with a thread of lint. And the sweat? Don't get me started. A single droplet nearly drowned me like it was a tidal wave summoned by a vengeful god of personal hygiene. Do you know how hard it is to push yourself off someone's foot when it's sticking to you like a second skin?

But okay. I guess I did kind of vanish for a week. And I did return with, oh, I dunno, an entire colony of traumatized Lillis and one punk-looking spear guy. So yeah. Maybe I had that one coming.

Still. Where was Vu's punishment? Nemu's? Sawyer's? Last I checked, none of them got sent on a magical carpet ride across Skylar's right foot.

But despite all that—despite the aching limbs and the smell that was now embedded in my very soul—I smiled. Skylar had been so damn happy to see us again. I saw it in her face the moment I popped up on her table, like she'd been holding her breath for days and finally exhaled. After my "foot massage of penance," we talked about the town, about the new arrivals, about how we could finally begin building something real.

She was all fired up to learn everyone's names, even knowing they'd be slow to warm up to her. That didn't deter her one bit. If anything, it made her even more determined. I respected that about her. It wasn't just about guilt anymore—she genuinely wanted to help us build something better.

I pushed past the half-finished archway into the town. Wood beams, metal scraps, patches of cloth roofs... it was coming together. Slowly. But it had life. And there, leaning against a half-finished house with a makeshift bandage around his midsection, was Vu.

He looked like he was trying to be cool, but I could tell the pain was still bothering him.

"Hey, Vu," I called out, strolling up, wiping my face with the least-gross part of my sleeve. "How you holdin' up?"

Vu glanced over at me, gave me one of those half-smirks of his, and rubbed his stomach. "Doing a lot better now. Painkillers helped. Bandages helped more. I should be up and fully running in a day or two." He tapped his temple. "Lillis with soul objects heal faster than the regular kind. Which you should know."

I blinked. "Because I have a soul object?"

He nodded slowly, like he was measuring every part of me. "Yeah. Which brings me to my next question. Who are you?"

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that." Vu pushed off the beam he'd been leaning on and walked over to me. "You've got a soul object, right? A strong one, from what I've seen. You've shown two different powers—one enhanced strength and speed, and the other teleportation. That's already strange."

"I mean..." I scratched the back of my neck, "they are just different masks, technically—"

"Exactly." He cut in, eyes narrowing. "Two masks. Two abilities. Totally different from each other. You know how rare that is? Soul objects almost never evolve like that. If they do, it's usually just a more refined version of the first ability. But you... your masks change everything."

I stayed quiet.

"And that's not the weirdest part," Vu continued. "Normally, when people with soul objects are near each other, we can sense it. Like a vibration. A presence. It's like... our souls call to each other. But you?" He got closer. "You're just silent. Even now, I can't feel a damn thing from you."

I held his gaze, steady. "What are you trying to say?"

Vu looked at me, real serious now. "Your powers... they remind me of something I've heard about before. A story. A legend. Something about a soul object so versatile, so strange, people thought it wasn't even a soul object at all. It belonged to thousand—"

"Stop." I said it quickly. Firm.

Vu blinked. "Victor..."

I stepped past him, placing a hand on his shoulder as I did. "I'm just a guy trying to start over," I said softly. "That's all."

Vu didn't say anything for a second. Just watched me walk away down the street.

But as I got farther, I could still hear him.

"Regular guy, huh?" he said under his breath. "We'll see."

***

(Viral)

"This is it?" I muttered, leaning back against a crooked wooden support beam that was supposed to be part of a "tent," but honestly looked more like a half-finished art project some kid gave up on halfway through.

One tent. Six grown men. No privacy. No beds. Just sleeping bags on a dirt patch the size of a dinner plate.

Paradise, they said.

I looked around at my crew—my five guys, seated in a circle with their legs crossed and eyes lit up like they just discovered sliced bread. They were talking, laughing even, their voices buzzing about the town, the food, and—of course—the women. Because apparently, the second Lillis get even a whiff of safety and a bite of warm food, their brains roll out their ears and their pants fall down.

"Well, did you see the clothes Designer? She could measure my body any day."

"Oh please, I saw her first. I practically need new clothes."

"Yeah? Me too."

Idiots.

I shook my head, plucking a small twig from the ground and rolling it between my fingers. I didn't join in. I didn't laugh. Someone had to stay grounded while the rest of them floated off into their hormone-fueled daydreams.

They forgot too easily.

Did they forget where we were? That we were still sitting in the bedroom of a Brob?

I shifted my gaze toward the outskirts of the town—past the outer wall, past the crooked watch post, even past the uneven city gates. And there it was.

The closet door. Towering like a monument to all our misplaced hope.

And beyond it?

Skylar.

She sat at her desk, this massive presence hunched over a stack of what looked like papers or maybe textbooks. The lights in her room were out, but a soft golden glow from a tiny lamp illuminated her desk like some kind of spotlight. Her hair was pulled back, her expression serious, focused.

She looked like a student.

Like a regular girl doing her homework.

That was the part that pissed me off the most.

This wasn't her world. It wasn't some game. But she carried herself like we were pets in a dollhouse, and she was the proud owner. The kind that feeds you and names you and swears she loves you right up until she drops you behind the radiator and forgets you exist.

No thanks.

I wasn't like the others. I hadn't spent my whole life dreaming of some place where Brobs and Lillis could coexist like neighbors. I hadn't been raised on bedtime stories and idealism. I was raised in the gutters. And I knew—deep in my bones—that you don't trust giants with soft eyes and warm smiles.

They always stepped on you eventually.

One of my guys leaned over, nudging me with an elbow. "Hey, Viral, you good? You've been all quiet and broody."

I gave him a look. "Just admiring the fact that we're living in a Brob's shoebox and y'all are planning your wedding invitations."

He laughed. "C'mon, man. Lighten up. This could be it, you know? A real home. A new start."

"New start?" I arched a brow. "We're still on her property. She sneezes, and half this town gets erased."

He frowned, the smile fading just a bit. "She's not like that. She saved us. You saw how gentle she was with the others."

"And you trust that?" I snapped, louder than I intended. The others quieted, the laughter fading to awkward silence.

I stood up, brushing the dirt from my pants. "I don't care how sweet she seems. I'm not putting my life in the hands of a Brob. Not again."

No one said anything.

Good.

Because if I'm the only one in this whole damn town keeping one eye open and both feet ready to run, so be it.

They can call it paranoia.

I call it survival.