SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

By the time the three of them reached the northern district of Velkaris, the city had already changed around them.

The streets were broader there, cleaner, edged with pale stone and elegant lamp posts that gave off a softer light than the ones in the lower areas. The buildings rose taller too, not in the aggressive way of merchant towers fighting for attention, but with the quiet confidence of places built for people who had never once needed to check the price of anything before stepping inside.

Even the sound of the district felt different. Less shouting, less hurry, more carriage wheels over polished stone and the low murmur of conversations happening behind expensive glass.

Xavier, unsurprisingly, had been talking most of the way.

He spoke about the duel again, about how close one of his counters had supposedly been, about how Trafalgar had clearly gotten lucky in two separate exchanges, and about how he would absolutely win the next one once he polished a few details. Bartholomew listened with the patience of a man who knew resisting Xavier’s mouth was a waste of energy. Trafalgar said little, which only seemed to encourage Xavier more.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a café tucked near the corner of a high street overlooking one of the district plazas. The place had white stone walls, bronze framing around the windows, and ivy spilling down one side in a way that was probably maintained by someone paid well to make it appear accidental.

Xavier pushed open the door first.

Inside, the warmth wrapped around them immediately, along with the scent of roasted beans, tea leaves, butter, and whatever sweet thing had just come out of the oven. A hostess led them upstairs after Xavier, with all the confidence of someone who had been here before, asked for a balcony table.

A few minutes later, they were seated outside on the upper terrace.

From there, the plaza below opened cleanly beneath them. At its center stood a wide fountain ringed by carved statues, each one shaped like some ancient beast with water spilling from its mouth into the basin below. Children leaned over the edge under the watch of attendants. Couples passed by at a lazy pace. Every now and then, someone stopped, closed a hand around a coin, and tossed it into the water.

Trafalgar’s attention drifted there for a beat.

Bartholomew noticed it first.

”T-technically,” he said, adjusting his glasses with two fingers, ”people make wishes there. They believe the fountain can grant them.”

Xavier followed his line of sight and leaned back in his chair.

”Yeah, I know the story,” he said. ”Some old tale about a spirit beneath the water listening to the wishes of people foolish enough to throw away money.” He gave the fountain another glance. ”I’m not sure I believe the part about wishes coming true, though. What about you two? Do you actually buy something like that?”

Trafalgar rested one arm against the side of the chair.

”I’m not sure,” he said. ”I know enough by now not to dismiss unusual things too quickly. So... maybe.”

Bartholomew lowered his voice as if admitting something embarrassing.

”I-I think it could happen.”

Xavier’s grin returned at once.

”Oh? Did something like that ever happen to you?”

Bartholomew shook his head quickly.

”N-no. But... it could, right?”

Trafalgar gave him the smallest nod.

”Sure. It could.”

That seemed enough for Bartholomew. He relaxed slightly, attention drifting back down to the fountain just as an elven waitress arrived carrying a tray. She placed two coffees in front of Xavier and Bartholomew, then set a cup of tea before Trafalgar. The steam rose in thin white lines between them.

They thanked her, and she left them to it.

Xavier wrapped a hand around his cup, took one sip, and almost immediately decided he had spent enough time on fountains and superstition.

”I’ve got a question,” he said. ”Actually, it’s more for you, Barth.”

Bartholomew blinked. ”M-me?”

”Yeah. Has something happened with your sister lately?” Xavier stirred his coffee once. ”She’s been acting strange. A little irritated. You can hear it when

she talks.”

Bartholomew went still, fingers brushing the frame of his glasses again. He let out a small, delayed, ”Oh.”

It was the kind of sound that said the answer had arrived all at once.

Trafalgar already knew where this was going.

Bartholomew turned his head toward him. Xavier followed the movement and

shifted his attention there too. After a brief internal struggle, Bartholomew

said, ”I-I think Trafalgar can explain it better.”

Trafalgar let out a quiet breath.

”Do I really have to?” he asked. ”I’d rather not.”

Xavier straightened immediately.

”Now you definitely have to tell me. If you’re involved, this just became far

more interesting than I expected.”

Trafalgar gave him a long, unimpressed stare, which Xavier ignored with insulting ease.

In the end, Trafalgar lifted his teacup, took a slow drink, and gave in.

”I went to pick Barth up from his room,” he said. ”I was going to annoy him a

little before dragging him out.”

”That sounds like you,” Xavier said.

Trafalgar continued without acknowledging the interruption.

”He wasn’t there. Or at least that’s what I thought at first. I had just stepped inside when the bathroom door opened.” He paused, visibly regretting that he was already too far into the explanation to stop. ”It was Cynthia. She’d just come out of the shower with nothing on but a towel.”

Xavier did not make a sound.

Neither did Bartholomew.

Trafalgar set the cup back down.

”You can imagine the rest.”

Xavier kept staring at him. He did not miss a word. He did not blink much either. He just sat there absorbing every piece of the story until Trafalgar

finished.

And then he laughed.

Loudly.

It came out like the kind of laugh that had been held hostage for years, as if Director Althea had personally forbidden him from doing it his entire life and he had finally found a reason worth the crime. It burst out of him without the

slightest shame, sharp and bright enough to make two nearby tables turn at once. Even a pair of older customers inside glanced toward the balcony through the half-open glass doors.

Bartholomew immediately turned red from the attention alone.

Trafalgar watched Xavier with growing irritation.

”I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Xavier had to wipe under one eye before he could answer.

”Oh, it’s very funny. You have no idea.” He leaned back, still laughing under his breath. ”This is better than paying for a live comedy show. Honestly, losing to

you in the sparring doesn’t sting nearly as much anymore.”

Bartholomew turned toward them, startled.

”Y-you had a sparring match?”

Trafalgar seized the opening at once.

”Yes,” he said. ”And I beat him badly in front of an audience.”

Xavier pointed at him with his cup.

”Hey. No. Don’t try to run from the real conversation by attacking my dignity.”

He leaned forward again, smile returning in full. ”Let’s go back to the important

part. So?”

Trafalgar frowned.

”So what?”

”Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me.” Xavier’s tone turned lighter, almost

singsong. ”What do you think of Cynthia?”

Trafalgar glanced at Bartholomew, then back at him.

”You realize Barth is sitting right here.”

Xavier shrugged. ”And? You already have two girls around you. I think Barth would be thrilled to

have you as a brother-in-law.”

That made Trafalgar turn again toward Bartholomew.

To his great misfortune, Xavier had not been exaggerating. Bartholomew looked like someone had just handed him an absurdly generous future and he had not yet learned how to hide his happiness. His whole face had lit up. Even his awkwardness seemed to have stepped aside for once.

Trafalgar stared at him.

”That could be a good way to tie Barth closer to me...

He stopped his own thought almost immediately. ’What the hell am I doing? My thoughts are wandering too far!’

The problem was that once Xavier had said it aloud, the question did not leave

so easily. Trafalgar went quiet, fingers resting against the warm porcelain of the teacup. Cynthia was one possibility, yes, and her attitude toward him had shifted enough recently that even he could not pretend otherwise. But if he was being

honest, the list in his head did not stop with her. There was Garrika. There was

Zafira too, though that path remained far less clear from where he stood now.

For the time being, at least.

Xavier saw the silence and grinned like a bastard who had finally found the exact conversation he wanted and Bartholomew waited with far too much hope in his expression.