SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 165: A Curtain Call Before the Chase

The chanting outside drummed against the walls like a heartbeat growing too fast. I stepped back from the curtain and leaned on the doorframe, watching Elliot and Anika exchange looks of quiet panic. Her blindfold made her unreadable, but her body was tense, her shoulders pulled up as if preparing for a blow.

I needed to think.

Quickly.

This wasn't the usual Syndicate hate mob with tweets and paranoia. This was something more organized. The posters, the propaganda—whoever funded those didn't just want us gone. They wanted us hunted.

I let my thoughts swirl through possible routes, safehouses, disguises, diversions—

A knock interrupted them.

Sharp. Polite, but with the weight of purpose.

"Hold that pose—don't ruin the tension," I said, already heading for the bathroom. I paused beside Anika. "Blindfold off, Miss Lindsey. It's curtain-up time."

She hesitated, then tugged it off. Her eyes were squinting, still adjusting. I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, locking it with a soft click.

"Elliot, my boy," I called through the door, voice smooth as silk on a guillotine, "if trouble comes knocking, do be a dear and pretend I've vanished in a puff of glitter."

I heard him take a breath. Then footsteps. Then the door opened.

"Yes?" Elliot asked, his voice trying for nonchalance but landing closer to the sound of someone skydiving without a parachute.

"Sorry to bother," came a deep, gravelly voice. "I own this place. Got a call about some... disturbances. Just wondering if Mr. Jester's still around?"

A pause.

"Ah—uh, no," Elliot said. "He left. About an hour ago, actually."

The man grunted, footsteps shifting. Then he paused. "Oh. I... I see."

He had likely spotted Anika. Still wearing the curtain-dress. Still wide-eyed.

"My apologies," the owner said quickly. "Didn't mean to interrupt... a couple."

"A—couple?" Elliot stammered. "We're not— I mean, she's—this isn't—"

"No judgment," the man said, backing out fast. "You kids have fun. I'll, uh, tell folks he's gone."

Door closes.

Silence.

I pressed a knuckle to my lips to stop the laugh threatening to escape. Instead, I schooled my voice.

"Anika, dearest," I sang with honeyed tones, "would you be an absolute gem and pop that blindfold back on? Let's preserve the mystery a little longer, hmm?"

"Fine," she deadpanned, but I felt faint smile behind it.

I waited a few beats, then stepped out. Both of them were flushed. Elliot avoided my gaze entirely. Anika had turned her head toward the window to hide the grin.

I sighed dramatically, waving a hand. "Oh, the pair of you—such chemistry, such chaos! Truly, a dazzling duo. Perhaps the landlord was right after all."

Is this how Camille feels? No wonder she enjoys teasing so much.

They both shot me a look.

I raised my hands. "Alright, alright—no more teasing! We've a train to catch and a lovely crowd outside dying to see my head on a stick. Let's not keep them waiting, hm?"

I turned to Elliot. "And where were you off to again? Just curious—was it adventure or mischief?"

He hesitated. "East. Towards my family. They're near the old borders."

East.

My thoughts clicked into place. Anika was taken from the west—if she was dropped off before Evelyn, then the van likely kept going. East was the best bet. My Deduction and Instinct skills both throbbed in agreement.

"We're going east," I said.

Elliot blinked. "What about Anika?"

Ah. Right.

I hadn't told him.

Before I could explain, Anika's voice came, calm and quiet: "Can I come with you?"

Elliot turned, surprised. "You—why?"

"I feel safe," she said softly. Too softly. Too calculated. But Elliot didn't pick up on it.

His resolve crumbled in seconds.

"Of course," he said, nodding. "We'll make space."

"Lovely," I said, and reached into my coat.

I pulled out a stack of bills and handed it to Elliot—several thousand in mixed currency. "Buy the best train seats you can. Private if possible. Comfort is key. And speed."

Elliot's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm drowning in money and riches," I said with a shrug, voice dripping sarcasm. "Call it pocket change, if you must."

He left not long after, nerves still jangling, muttering something about checking schedules. The building had quieted since the owner's visit, but I knew that wouldn't last.

Two hours passed. I spent most of it checking gear, rerouting pings, and preparing one last outfit. Elliot returned near sundown, holding three tickets like they were holy relics.

"Done," he said. "Leaves at 10:15. Platform 3. Full sleeper cabin."

"Perfect," I said, snatching up my coat with flair. "You two go on ahead. I'll catch up with you on the train—fashionably late, of course."

Elliot hesitated. "But what about—"

"I'll handle the rowdy crowd," I smiled.

Night fell like a curtain of shadows, draping the city in anonymity. I moved across rooftops and alleyways, staying to the dark corners. The lights of the crowd were growing, flickering like embers caught on wind.

Just before I reached the outer block near the station, I pulled out my phone and went live.

Conflict Zone Reporting – Activated.

The moment the skill kicked in, my perception shifted.

Sound became sharper. Echoes more precise. I could feel the attention radiating off the streets like spotlights.

The stream began without announcement—just a shaky, noir-style feed of urban nightscape, my voice calm.

"Well, it's been a real joy," I said, grinning. "Lovely country. Top-notch toast. A bit of a mob problem, but they've got a certain charm, don't you think? All very... provincial."

I moved along the edge of a narrow wall, careful that the background of the livestream couldn't be identified.

"But alas," I sighed dramatically, "the time arrives when even the most reluctant of travelers must take their leave. Onward to the next memory... the next riddle... the next performance. Always moving, always playing."

Seventy-five percent of the way there.

Then a sound.

Small footsteps.

I stopped.

A child stood at the corner of the alley. Alone. Big eyes reflecting the dim lamplight.

I crouched slightly, keeping my voice soft. "Shouldn't you be home by now, kid? A bit late to be out hunting shadows, don't you think?"

He stared.

Then—

"MOM! MOM! IT'S HIM! MR. JESTER'S HERE!!"

A thousand thoughts tried to scream at once. I chose the only correct response.

"Ah. Marvelous."

Then I ran.

The noise behind me was mortifying to say the least. Footfalls. Shouts. Flashlights dancing like lightning bugs in a storm. Someone was even ringing a cowbell.

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I ducked, twisted, leapt a railing, bolted down a staircase three steps at a time.

I could hear chants. My name and not the flattering kind.

The station came into view like a beacon, glass dome aglow with interior lights. I saw the train. Platform 3.

And standing by the door were Anika and Elliot.

Anika's blindfold was back on, her head tilted as if listening. Elliot's hands were clenched, feet bouncing nervously.

I jumped the final steps and burst onto the platform, coat flaring, mask catching the station lights just right.

"Now!" I called, my voice ringing through the station like a trumpet. "Now would be an excellent time to depart!"

Behind me, a block and a half away, the mob surged into view.

Elliot looked for a moment before immediately scrambling to open the door.