Chapter 126: Special Treatment
For a moment, her gaze wandered upward, to the fortress walls gleaming faintly in the torchlight, to the fortress lights that pierced the night like stars.
’A city built in the ashes and an order clinging to chaos. But order like this is only ever temporary.’
She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, her gaze sharper than before.
The inspection was not yet over. Once the last strokes of ink dried on their arms, Ling Yu and her companions were led down a narrower corridor of the fortress by another detachment of guards. The torches burned lower here, shadows pooling in the stone cracks. The sound of boots echoed against the walls, a rhythm meant to remind newcomers of discipline.
Ling Yu walked at the head of her group, her expression serene, but her senses sharp. Every flicker of torchlight, every scrape of a soldier’s boot, every side glance at her people, she noticed them all.
At the end of the corridor, another checkpoint awaited. A table covered with ledger books, seals, and wooden tags. Behind it sat two clerks, both wearing simple gray uniforms that marked them as administrative staff rather than fighters. Beside them stood a soldier with a spear, his eyes half-lidded but watchful.
The older clerk adjusted his spectacles and looked them over. His gaze lingered on Ling Yu, then moved down the line. "The group of thirteen, correct?"
"Yes," Ling Yu replied evenly.
The man made a note in his ledger. "Strength assessment already recorded. No awakened among them, occupations noted." His voice was dry, businesslike. "Very well. Take your room assignments."
He shuffled through a stack of wooden plaques, each engraved with numbers, until he pulled one free. It was larger than the others, darker wood, with bold letters burned into its surface: Block C, Room 27.
"Your group will be quartered together," the clerk said, sliding the plaque across the table toward Ling Yu. "Normally, groups larger than ten are split across two or more rooms, but given your... profile, the administration has decided to keep you consolidated. Easier to manage. Easier to put to use."
Ling Yu reached out and picked up the plaque. The wood was rough beneath her fingers, the engraving deep. A key of sorts, but also a collar.
Her eyes flicked up, her smile thin. "Haha, how considerate of you."
The clerk didn’t answer. He simply stamped their ledger entry with a heavy seal, then waved them off. "Next!"
The soldier with the spear gestured brusquely. "Follow me."
They were led again through the maze of the fortress and past narrow alleys where refugees huddled under blankets. Past storerooms where sacks of grain and barrels of water were stacked behind locked gates, the journey seemed long as they walked past the training yards where armed men drilled in formation beneath the barked orders of their captains.
Her people whispered behind her. Song’s hand brushed the hilt of his dagger more than once, though Ling Yu had already forbidden them from carrying weapons openly. Xian Yu clutched his staff tightly to his chest, his pale face taut with caution.
Finally, they reached Block C.
It was a long stone building, two stories high, windows barred with iron. The air inside was stifling with the press of bodies. The soldier led them down a corridor lined with doors. Each one bore a carved number plate and faint scratches — marks of desperate fingernails, perhaps, or anger carved into wood.
At last, he stopped before Room 27. He unlocked the door with a heavy key, pushed it open, and gestured inside. "Here. Don’t cause trouble."
The door creaked wide.
When the heavy door creaked open, Ling Yu braced herself for the stench of sweat and straw, for a dark stone cell barely fit to crawl in.
But what greeted her instead was—
"...a flat?"
She blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
The space was far larger than she had expected. A wide common room spread before her, with wooden flooring patched but still intact. A faded rug stretched across the center, its edges frayed but clean. To the left, a narrow kitchenette with a sink and a rusting iron stove. To the right, a set of wooden stairs curled upward to a second floor.
Upstairs, she glimpsed two doors leading into what must be separate bedrooms. Not luxurious, certainly. The walls were bare stone, the windows barred like all the others, and the air carried the faint tang of damp wood. Yet compared to the straw mats and cramped cells she had glimpsed earlier, this was paradise.
Song whistled low. "This is... way better than I thought."
Xian Yu’s wide eyes shimmered in the lamplight. He trailed delicate fingers over the stair railing as if he might wake from a dream at any moment. "...I thought we’d be shoved into a corner with fifty other people."
"It’s too clean for that," Ling Yu murmured.
Her instincts prickled. This wasn’t just any kind of generosity. This was the intent.
Why us?
The soldier who had escorted them did not explain. He simply handed her the key, muttered, "Block C, Room 27," and left, locking the heavy door behind him.
As the footsteps faded, silence fell again.
Ling Yu slowly walked the flat, her eyes sharp, searching. She checked the hinges of the barred windows, the sturdiness of the staircase, and the quality of the locks on the upstairs doors. Her fingers brushed the grooves in the wooden floorboards, noting where they had been repaired.
Everything here whispered one thing:
It was some kind of special treatment.
And special treatment always came with a price.
Her system chimed softly in her mind:
[Suspicion Level Raised. Refugee Status: Special Allocation]
[System Analysis: Probability of monitoring = 87%.
Probability of recruitment attempt = 73%.
Probability of ulterior motives = 95%.]
Ling Yu’s lips curved faintly. "I thought so."
Fluffy, who had poked its head out of her storage the moment they stepped inside, bounced onto the rug with a happy squeak.