Jeremy led Tess back through the estate’s corridors, retracing the path they’d taken hours earlier. The service level’s practical infrastructure gave way to polished stone, wood paneling, and the artwork she tried to avoid looking at. She kept her eyes on Jeremy’s back, trying not to catalog everything she could strip for parts.
They climbed the stairs and stopped outside the receiving hall where she’d first met the Duke.
“His Grace is expecting you,” Jeremy said. He knocked twice, then opened the door without waiting for a response.
The receiving hall was just as expensive as it had been a couple hours ago. Polished stone floors, massive window overlooking Sector 5, furniture that belonged in museums. The Duke’s chair sat in the same spot.
Duke Amos Tertian stood by the window, backlit by Sector 5’s glow. He turned as she entered, and his expression flickered with surprise.
“Miss Rivera.” He checked a datapad on the nearby table. “That was… remarkably fast. I expected the repair to take at least several more hours.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, sit. We should discuss compensation.”
Tess remained standing. “You already fed me, that’s worth more than the repair. I didn’t even have to use parts since I repurposed what I needed from the drying unit.”
“How resourceful. But food is not the full amount you’re owed for such thorough work.” He pulled a credit chit from his pocket. “Plus hazard compensation for working with sabotaged equipment.”
He held it out.
Tess eyed it and didn’t touch it. “That’s generous.”
“It’s fair.” Amos sat in his chair and leaned back. The movement was relaxed, comfortable. Like they were equals having a conversation, not a duke and a dock district repair tech. “Jeremy showed me the security footage. Whoever destroyed that machine knew exactly what they were doing. You rebuilt it in two hours with salvaged parts.”
“And a mysterious blank crystal your wife, uh… Lady Tertian, happened to have.”
“Sara collects interesting things.” His smile widened. “She also said you leveled up from the repair. Congratulations on reaching Level 5.”
BEE: Tess, your heart rate is elevated. Status update requested.
Tess ignored Bee’s message. “Is there something else you need fixed?”
“Several things, actually.” Amos picked up the datapad from the nearby table and tapped through screens. “We have dungeon-tech systems throughout the estate. Environmental controls, food processing, medical equipment. Most of it hasn’t been properly serviced in years. Our regular technicians can handle basic maintenance, but they lack expertise with the more complex components.”
He looked up, and his eyes were warm. Genuine. “I’d like to hire you for ongoing house calls. Case-by-case work, paid at our regular rates. You’d have access to our workshop, our component inventory, whatever resources you need.”
The offer hung in the air between them.
It was a good offer. Great, even. Regular work, excellent pay, access to equipment she couldn’t get anywhere else. Every repair would help her level up, and the Tertians clearly had systems complex enough to push her capabilities and level her up.
“You’re thinking about it,” Amos said. Not a question, and took a pointed breath. “You saved my daughter’s life by doing something that shouldn’t have been possible. You fixed a deliberately destroyed washing machine with improvised solutions and salvaged parts.”
He leaned forward slightly. “I’m not looking for a regular repairwoman. I’m looking for innovation.”
BEE: Tess, I lack contextual audio. Please describe your situation.
Tess felt overwhelmed, and could feel her heart in her chest. “I…can’t believe I’m talking to Duke Tertian about a job offer.”
The Duke continued. “This is a business discussion, nothing more.”
He was handsome. Not like the holos made him seem—those were too polished, too perfect. In person, he had laugh lines around his eyes and a scar along his jawline that suggested he’d done more than sit in receiving halls giving orders. The gray at his temples looked distinguished rather than old, and when he smiled it reached his eyes in a way that made Tess forget for a moment that she was talking to one of the most powerful people on Tertius-Prime.
“The work would be varied,” Amos continued. “Some repairs might take hours. Others could take days. You’d set your own schedule, and I’d never ask you to prioritize our work over your other clients. Rivera’s Repairs would remain completely independent.”
“But?”
“No buts.” He picked up the credit chit and held it out. “Contractor, not employment. We have broken systems. You have the skills to fix them. Everyone benefits.”
Tess took the chit, glanced at the number, and nearly fell over.
Three thousand credits.
For two hours of work.
That was more than she’d made in the last two years combined. More than Marcus had made in years, more than…
“You’re very good at this,” Tess said.
“At what?”
“Making reasonable offers that feel too good to be true.”
Amos laughed. It was warm and unguarded. “My wife says the same thing. She claims I could convince a Delver to sell their equipment and take up poetry.”
“Could you?”
“Probably. But I’d rather work with people who understand the value of what they do.” He gestured to the credit chit in her hand. “You know that’s fair compensation. You worked fast, you worked smart, and you solved a problem my regular staff couldn’t. That’s worth paying for.”
Tess checked the chit again. The numbers didn’t change.
Three thousand credits.
She thought about Marcus, the freighter, and her friends in Sector 7 who could barely afford food—let alone parts.
About how easy it would be to say yes.
“Can I think about it?” she asked.
“Of course.” Amos stood and extended his hand. “Take your time. The broken systems aren’t going anywhere.”
His handshake was firm without being aggressive. His palm had calluses. He’d worked with his hands at some point, done more than sign documents and attend formal dinners.
He was also a Level 47 Noble.
The realization hit her like cold water. She hadn’t even considered using [ANALYZE] on him until now. Hadn’t thought to look at his class like it didn’t matter. She’d just been… listening. Trusting. Swept up in his charm and his reasonable offers.
Level 47… and who knew what skills someone like that had to persuade her, or even make her lower her guard. Just the level alone made him more a monster instead of a man.
Tess pulled her hand back.
“I should go,” she said.
“Of course. Jeremy will show you out.” Amos turned away, already reaching for a datapad. “Oh, one more thing.”
Tess paused at the door.
“Sara mentioned the blank crystal. We can produce them, given time and resources.” He glanced up. “If you’re interested, we could show you how. The process is fascinating, and I think you’d appreciate the technical complexity involved.”
A blank skill crystal. Something that shouldn’t exist outside the dungeon, created through methods she didn’t understand.
“I’ll think about it,” Tess said.
She left before he could make any more reasonable offers.
***
Jeremy was waiting in the corridor. He led her back through the estate in silence, giving her time to process.
Three thousand credits.
Access to resources she couldn’t get anywhere else.
Partnership with House Tertian.
All she had to do was fix things. Which was literally her job.
So why did it feel like she was signing something more than a repair contract?
BEE: Tess, your heart rate is declining. Are you safe?
“Yeah, Bee. Just… thinking.”
BEE: About the Duke’s proposal?
“How did you—”
BEE: You said ‘talking to Duke Tertian about a job offer’ seventeen minutes ago. Contextual inference suggests a significant proposal was made. My extrapolation algorithm is improving!
They reached the entrance hall. Jeremy opened the door, and afternoon light spilled across the polished stone.
“Miss Rivera,” Jeremy said. “For what it’s worth, His Grace doesn’t make offers he doesn’t intend to honor. If he offers something, he means it.”
“But?”
Jeremy’s professional mask cracked slightly. “But the Duke plays a long game. Always has. If you work for House Tertian, you should know that nothing here is as simple as it seems.”
He handed her a small card with contact information. “When you’re ready to give your answer, use this.”
Tess took the card and stepped outside, through a different door than she’d entered.
This entrance had fountains that burbled. Gardens stretched in geometric patterns. Haulers drifted past overhead, their engines whisper-quiet.
She was halfway to the estate gates when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Tess! Wait!”
Petra jogged across the courtyard, still in her Blade Dancer gear. She looked flushed, like she’d been training.
“I just heard you were here,” Petra said, slightly breathless. “My father didn’t summon you, did he? I told him to leave you alone.”
“There really was a washing machine.”
“Oh.” Petra’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “Wait… did he pay you?”
Tess held up the credit chit.
Petra looked at it. Her eyes widened. Then she started laughing.
“Three thousand credits?” She shook her head. “Three thousand credits for a washing machine repair? Tess, that’s… that’s multiple years of average sector 7 wages for a single job.”
“He said it was fair compensation.”
“It’s a bribe.” Petra was still grinning. “A polite, technically-justifiable bribe wrapped in reasonable business language. That’s pure House Tertian politics right there. Did he offer you ongoing work too?”
“Maybe.”
“Of course he did.” Petra’s smile faded slightly. “Tess, I told him to leave you alone. I told him not to pull you into our world. You’re not supposed to be one of his projects.”
“I’m not anyone’s project.”
“I know! That’s what I told him!” Petra ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You saved my life because you’re good at what you do, not because you owe House Tertian anything. I didn’t want him turning that into political advantage.”
“Maybe he just needs his systems fixed.”
“Maybe.” Petra didn’t sound convinced. “But my father doesn’t do anything without three backup plans and five different ways to profit from it. If he’s offering you work, it’s because he wants something more than clean laundry.”
“Should I turn it down?”
“I don’t know.” Petra looked genuinely conflicted. “The work is legitimate. The pay is… excessive but not insulting. And you’d be good at it. But once you’re in our world, it’s hard to leave. People will see you as House Tertian’s technician, not Rivera’s Repairs.”
Tess looked back at the estate. Through the windows, she could see the receiving hall where she’d first met the Duke. It all looked so pristine. So stable. So far from the freighter’s cramped hold and the dock district’s constant struggle.
“I need to think about it,” she said.
“Good. Think hard.” Petra squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support it. But don’t let my father’s charm make the decision for you. He’s very good at making people want to agree with him.”
“I noticed.”
Petra grinned. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the tram station.”
They’d made it three blocks when Petra’s comm chimed.
She glanced at it. Frowned. “My father wants to see me. Immediately.”
“I can find my way…”
“No, come with me.” Petra was already turning back toward the estate. “If this is about you, being there will throw him off.”
“Petra, I really should…”
“Please. Just… trust me. If he’s changing terms or adding conditions, you deserve to know.”
Tess followed her back through the courtyard, through the entrance hall, up the stairs she’d descended fifteen minutes ago.
Petra didn’t knock on the receiving hall door. She pushed it open and walked in.
“You summoned me, Father?” There was an edge to Petra’s voice. “I hope this isn’t about Tess, because I specifically told you…”
“Petra.” Amos’s voice was calm. “Sit down, please.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Sit. Down.”
Petra sat.
Amos looked at Tess. “Miss Rivera. How fortunate. Have a seat, if you please?”
Tess sat. The receiving hall felt different now. Less comfortable. More like a room where important decisions were made whether you wanted them or not.
The door opened behind them.
Sara Tertian walked in, carrying a tray with tea. She took one look at Petra’s defensive posture and Amos’s serious expression and sighed.
“What did I miss?” Sara set the tray down and poured three cups. “And why wasn’t I invited?”
“I was just about to explain something to Petra,” Amos said. “About promises. And political leverage.”
“Oh good, a lesson.” Sara handed Tess a cup of tea. “This should be entertaining.”
Petra’s jaw tightened. “Father, if you used Tess as bait to get me in here…”
“You told me to leave Miss Rivera alone,” Amos said. “You made me promise. Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“And I agreed. Promised not to interfere, not to summon her, not to turn her into a political asset.” He pulled up a screen on the nearby table. “But you broke the washing machine, Petra. Which gave me a perfectly legitimate reason to call for repairs.”
Petra went very still.
“Show them,” Sara said, settling into a chair with her own tea. She looked far too amused.
Amos rotated the screen so they could see.
Security footage. The laundry room, two angles. Time stamp: three days ago, 11:47 PM.
Petra stormed in carrying a bundle of clothes. She threw them into the washing machine with enough force to rattle the drum.
“Oh no,” Petra muttered.
On screen, Petra had clearly thrown a vibroblade into the washer with the clothes. The machine’s safety protocols engaged immediately, refusing to start. Warning lights flashed.
Petra pulled open the maintenance panel.
Sara leaned forward. “Petra, you didn’t.”
On screen, Petra cursed colorfully and then bypassed the safety limiters. Disabled the power regulation protocols, and forced the machine into a full-power cycle then stormed out.
The washing machine lasted around thirty seconds before it exploded.
Sparks flew. Smoke billowed. The machine’s control panel melted into slag.
Amos paused the footage.
The study was silent.
“You told me to leave Tess alone,” Amos said. “And I agreed. I gave you my word.” He leaned back in his chair. “But, in politics, a promise is only as good as your ability to back it up. The moment you sabotaged my washing machine, you gave me legitimate cause to call for repairs. Your promise became politically worthless.”
Petra’s face was red. Not with embarrassment—with anger. “You’re using this as a lesson? Using Tess as a political prop?”
“I’m teaching you how power works.” Amos’s voice was firm. “You wanted to protect Miss Rivera. That’s admirable. But you can’t protect anyone if you give your enemies the tools to outmaneuver you.”
“You’re not my enemy.”
“Today, I’m not. Tomorrow?” He gestured to the frozen footage. “What happens when you make a promise to someone who is your enemy, and they find the leverage to make you break it? You lose credibility. You lose power. You lose the ability to protect the people you care about.”
Sara sipped her tea. “He’s not wrong, dear.”
“This is ridiculous.” Petra stood. “I broke your washing machine. Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m not going to sit here while you use Tess to make a point.”
“The point is already made.” Amos closed the screen. “You wanted to protect Miss Rivera from being pulled into our world. But you made a tactical error, and it cost you the leverage to enforce that protection. Learn from it.”
Petra turned to Tess. “I’m sorry. This is exactly what I told them not to do. You’re not a game piece, and you shouldn’t be treated like one.”
Tess looked at the credit chit still clutched in her hand. Three thousand credits. Fair compensation, the Duke had said. Partnership, not employment.
But also a lesson delivered to his daughter about political maneuvering and the value of leverage.
She was in their world now, whether she wanted to be or not.
“Can you maybe not do this while I’m here?” Tess said. Her voice was tight.
“Of course.” Amos stood. “Jeremy will show you out. Again. My apologies for the theatrics.”
“The offer still stands,” Sara added. “The work is legitimate, regardless of the object lesson. You’d be good at it, and we’d pay you fairly.”
“Excessively,” Petra muttered.
Tess stood. The tea sat untouched on the table. “I’ll think about it.”
She made it to the door before Amos spoke again.
“Miss Rivera. One more thing.”
She didn’t turn around.
“Petra was right to try to protect you. She was just wrong about the method.” His voice was gentle. “If you work with us, I promise you’ll be treated as a partner, not a pawn. But I can’t promise our world won’t be complicated.”
“The only thing I like complicated are machines,” Tess said.
She left the receiving hall and found Jeremy waiting in the corridor. He looked unsurprised.
“The tram station?” he asked.
“Yes. Please.”
They walked through the estate in silence. Behind them, Tess could hear raised voices—Petra arguing with her parents, Sara’s dry laughter cutting through the tension.
Jeremy led her to the main entrance and stopped.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry you had to see that. House Tertian’s motto is competence over loyalty, after all.”
“Does everyone here speak in political riddles?”
“Only when we’re being honest.” He smiled. “Do call when you’re ready?”
Tess stepped out into the afternoon light.
Petra caught up with her before she reached the gates.
“Tess, wait. Please.”
Tess kept walking.
“I’m sorry.” Petra matched her pace. “I told them to leave you alone. I told them you weren’t part of our political games. And then my father turns the whole thing into a lesson with you in the middle of it.”
“Did you actually break the washing machine?”
“Yes! I had an awful day, and I forgot about my vibroblade.” Petra ran a hand through her hair. “It’s just like him to turn an accident into leverage.”
Tess stopped at the gates. “Your world is exhausting.”
“I know.”
“Every conversation has three meanings. Every offer has conditions. Nothing is just what it appears to be.”
“I know.”
“And now I’m standing here with three thousand credits wondering if it’s payment for a repair or the first move in something I don’t understand.”
Petra was quiet for a moment. Then: “It’s both. It’s always both with my him. The work is real, the payment is real, and he’s absolutely positioning you for something larger. That’s just how he operates.”
Tess looked back at the estate. Through the windows, she could see Sara and Amos talking. No anger, just conversation. Like the whole scene had been a business meeting, not a family argument.
Maybe it had been.
“I need to go home,” Tess said.
“Okay.” Petra didn’t try to follow. “But Tess? Whatever you decide about the work… I meant what I said. You’re not a game piece. Not to me.”
Tess nodded and walked through the gates.
***
The tram ride back to Sector 6 felt longer than the journey up.
Tess sat in the same seat near the back, watching Sector 5 slide past. Pristine buildings. Immaculate infrastructure. Ordered lives built on systems that worked because someone made sure they worked.
Her comm beeped when she entered back into range of the dungeon.
The credit chit was heavy in her pocket.
BEE: Communications have been restored, though you have been silent for 23 minutes. Status update requested.
“I’m okay, Bee. Just thinking.”
BEE: About the Duke’s proposal?
“About everything.”
The tram slid into the area just outside Sector 6. Tess stepped off and walked toward the gates. The attendant waved her through without looking up from his datapad.
Sector 6 spread out before her. Less polished than Sector 5. More lived-in. The shops here had character, the people had calluses, and nothing was quite as pristine.
But she could make enough money to fix all of it. All she had to do was fix broken systems for people who could afford to pay.
People who also played political games with washing machines.
BEE: Tess, your emotional indicators suggest significant internal conflict.
“Yeah, Bee. That’s one way to put it.”
She walked through Sector 6, past Vera’s shop, toward the lift that would take her back down to Sector 7.
Behind her, somewhere in the perfect towers of Sector 5, Duke Amos Tertian was probably already planning his next move.
And Tess still had no idea if she wanted to be part of it.