F-Rank Mimic Chest: My SSS Mimic Skill Lets Me Become Anything

The hollow thorned T pressed heat into Candle Row’s witness chain.

Kett shut the private archive box. Its latch caught on his burned hand; his breath caught with it. Above them, the current bell dragged its clapper chain another link across stone.

Then Lord Thorne spoke.

”Clerk Kett’s finding is careful. Recurrent choice is supported. Predation remains active. Personhood, safety, and title remain unresolved.”

”Unresolved title means you have none,” Kett said. The gray box stayed shut.

Thorne let the correction pass. ”It also means frightened offices may destroy what they cannot classify, and careless offices may claim what they cannot manage. I offer standing, paid counsel, and a hearing the Core must acknowledge before it dismantles the disputed body.”

Wax paper descended with a stiff flutter and struck the bare center of Dane’s Wagon bed.

Heat spread beneath it. Treasure Display woke through his wood and tightened the sheet against him as if a good polish could make ownership easier to swallow. Price slates rattled in the lane. Two buyers stepped closer.

His body had improved Thorne’s pitch without being asked.

”My offer cancels Vera Pike’s patron debt,” Thorne said. ”Her faded license is replaced by an independent field license in her own name. I pay the medical and stall fees already incurred here. Dane Rook enters protected responsive-storage research custody instead of summary destruction or unmanaged seizure. Vera serves as his licensed handler and witness, with standing to challenge any correction performed on him.”

Four kinds of pressure around Dane turned the same way.

The collector’s loop stopped sawing sideways across his axle. Wood around the one-grain split released a fraction without closing. Brackenvault’s old ownership pull, Candle Row’s disputed-form record, collector residue, and Thorne’s patron route leaned toward one proposed title. Hunger drew close to the expectation of one feeder and regular meat.

Nothing in him healed. For one breath, his wounds simply stopped arguing over who would use them.

Brant’s shoulder strap creaked around the dead right arm. Holt closed his empty prayer case, opened it again, and jerked his palm off the hinge. The unknown adult breathed from the stretcher behind Dane; one laundry pole shifted nearer to that sound.

Nobody asked Vera to answer for them.

”Protected under whose title?” Vera asked.

”A title the guild, Registry, and market can process,” Thorne said. ”Choice without status is expensive evidence. Registered custody buys time, and your judgment makes that custody less stupid than the alternatives.”

”Under your property registration, then.”

”Under a structure strong enough to keep the Core waiting.”

Mire’s block advanced on eight brass feet. Her top mouth cut across the projection.

”Candle Row accepts no beautiful offer with its price folded under it.”

Her middle mouth addressed Thorne. ”Old patron knowledge leaves the proposed seller uninformed. Public disclosure still controls.”

The lowest mouth clicked its teeth. Nine price beads began moving.

Hinges opened beside Dane’s intact right side. An independent brass bar unfolded from Mire’s block and stopped without touching him.

Ada set rod one firmly beneath the axle loop. ”Disclosure bar is one finger below your right side. It bears no weight. Sheet edge needs one finger of wheel.”

The bell chain scraped again.

”Right front wheel only,” Ada said. ”One finger. Stop if the old facet pulls.”

Dane turned.

The sheet slid across bare wood. Its lower edge touched Mire’s bar with a hot metallic tick. Treasure Display followed the paper and left the rest of his bed dull.

Mire’s middle mouth struck the bar with a hammer. ”Movement requests disclosure. It accepts nothing.”

Roots forced their way through the sheet.

Dane felt six lines of heat spread from paper into brass. Wax cracked. Thorn ink scraped the bar and raised words for the surrounding market.

Mire’s top mouth read the first root. ”Handling rights include relocation, inspection, correction, and partial disassembly for research integrity.”

The second root tightened near the sheet’s center. Something inside Dane’s retained knife touched his inner wall.

Kett spoke over the crackle. ”Every retained content is listed as an attached research asset until outside provenance is accepted. The public finding supports no such inventory and names none of it.”

”Then the interest remains unperfected until proof,” Thorne said. ”The clause names that limit.”

”It puts the burden on the thing inside the cage,” Vera said.

Another root struck the bar hard enough to ring it.

Mire’s middle mouth continued. ”Patron interest attaches to future forms, skills, derivatives, and generated data. Reporting is mandatory.”

The word *independent* cracked audibly on the sheet.

”Read what cracked it,” Vera said.

The lowest mouth obliged. ”Mage Pike’s clean license remains conditional on compliant handling, accurate reports, and non-interference with research custody.”

”You call that independent?” Vera’s next breath came rough against her wraps. ”I get my name back if I use it the way you instruct.”

”Professional independence still carries accountability,” Thorne said. ”I paid for training and licensure. That is an economic interest, not ownership of your body.”

Two knocks came from the coffer beyond the sheet, one from each awake signature. Four habitual patterns answered the moving market bell in a loose rattle.

The fifth root trembled with both rhythms.

Mire’s top mouth read, ”Living associates, workers, and the responsive coffer become environmental dependencies and test witnesses. The proposal takes no title to them.”

”It takes their presence,” Vera said. ”They cannot sign that through me.”

”Nor through the public finding,” Kett added. ”It supports no dependency label.”

The final root crossed all the others and bit into the disclosure bar.

Mire’s lowest mouth slowed down for this one. ”Refusal or default permits a focused seizure filing, license remedies, and reinstatement of Pike’s debt with compounding.”

Her price beads clicked faster at *seizure filing*.

Thorne neither withdrew the sheet nor denied the roots. ”Protected custody reduces destruction risk while title remains disputed. Someone will control access to this record. I prefer a funded study to whichever collector arrives first with enough iron.”

”You want my name to create ownership of his,” Vera said.

”I want the best judgment present attached to a dangerous subject. Without standing, you may object while the Core dismantles him and write an excellent report afterward.”

The bell chain pulled. A deep scrape traveled through the market stone.

Vera’s breath left slowly.

”The cancellation is real,” she said. ”A clean license in my own name would change my life. Paid care would change lives here before this bell finished.”

Holt’s case hinge stopped moving. Brant’s shoulder strap held quiet.

”I want those things,” Vera said. ”I refuse the bridge attached to them. My name and debt give you no handler claim over Dane. I sign away no right over his body, what he keeps, the choices he makes, or forms he has not become.”

Thorne began, ”The contract—”

”Also gets no dependency through me,” she said. ”Workers, witnesses, party members, and those six coffer lives answer for themselves. Your clean license is custody work with better lettering.”

The sheet’s roots kept their grip on Mire’s bar.

”Record that I refused your method,” Vera said. ”I know what that may cost my license. The problem remains.”

Her boots shifted away from the paper, then stopped.

”My answer is finished. Dane’s is his.”

Thorne’s pressure turned toward Dane alone.

”Dane Rook. One knock accepts this disclosed offer. Two refuses it. Three contests the question.”

Mire’s hammer touched the bar once. ”Offer question public.”

Kett’s stylus scratched the answer source into wax and stopped.

”You feel what one recognized title provides,” Thorne said. ”One direction instead of competing hooks. Controlled feeding and repair. Protection long enough to fund the hearing. Vera’s debt ends even if the answer to what you are takes years.”

The loop around Dane’s axle rested against the split instead of dragging across it. His ruined rail hung just as dead, but the living strip stopped fighting the rest of the market. Hunger waited for meat someone else would choose.

It felt good.

That frightened the remaining human part of him more than pain did.

The coffer knocked twice again, the awake answers separate. Its four habits rattled when the bell chain moved. Thorne’s fifth root held all six responses under one proposed dependency.

Saint Rust pressed an edge against Dane’s inner wall.

*He offers meat with the same hand that labels my sheath. I remember what that hand does next.*

Dane struck his intact floor twice.

The impacts passed through the warm sheet and into Mire’s bar.

Thorne went silent. The offer remained physically pinned between Dane and the disclosure metal.

Ada checked rod one with a short grind. ”Second movement clear. Right wheel one more finger. Stop when the sheet drops.”

Dane turned again.

Paper scraped over brass and fell onto the stone beside Mire’s block. Treasure Display released it at once.

Competing claims tore back across Dane’s axle. The embedded loop burned into the old split; wood clenched around the unchanged gap; Coffin hunger rolled through his floor with no promised feeder at its end.

Mire’s top mouth announced, ”The proposed seller surface made no acceptance.”

Her middle mouth recorded, ”Pike refused from her license. Rook refused from his body.”

The lowest mouth closed its teeth on the offer. ”Purchase closed. No sale.”

Three price beads stopped. The other six began to race when Thorne said, ”My office asserts an existing recovery interest.”

”Then arrive as claimant, not buyer,” Mire’s top mouth said.

Her middle mouth demanded, ”Name target, exclusions, lead, window, and collateral.”

The lowest mouth added, ”Candle Row collects double for what your filing breaks.”

Hot wax dropped from the hollow T and struck stone beside the discarded sheet.

”Bind my license and the market fees,” Thorne said. The wax cut a first field with a thorn-scratch. ”Target: disputed responsive-storage body and record, Dane Rook. Title unadjudicated.”

A second cut followed. ”Living persons, the coffer, private sources, and retained contents are excluded without separate filed claims.”

The third groove opened. ”Claim-Clerk Orth leads a licensed recovery detail.”

The bell chain dragged tight overhead.

”Entry at current Candle Row bellfall,” Thorne said as the fourth groove formed.

A fifth cut sealed the wax. ”Collateral is my license, double stall-damage bond, and all market fees.”

Mire’s six fast beads struck their wire stops together. The raid filing belonged to Candle Row now. Orth remained outside it, wherever the current bell had found him.

Vera spoke across the paper on the stone. ”The sale is closed. Separate answers, Dane. Do you agree?”

Dane knocked once.

That answer belonged only to her question.

The bell chain drew taut.

The raid seal hit stone before bronze answered.