I did not dislike Chase Morgan because he was handsome.
That would have been petty.
Nor did I dislike him for being tall, athletic, wealthy, socially competent, and equipped with a human body containing functional hands.
That would have been jealousy.
And I definitely did not dislike him because he had asked Amelia to dinner.
That would imply emotional complications I had neither requested nor authorized.
My problem with Chase Morgan was purely tactical.
This was the conclusion I reached after thinking about him for approximately three straight hours.
Amelia disagreed.
“You are jealous.” I nearly fell off the pencil I was standing on.
We were back in Room 317.
Mayra had gone to meet Keyana for dinner.
Amelia sat at her desk with our communication notebook open.
I stood beside a rough diagram of Westbridge Biomedical’s Lot 7C chain of custody.
We had been discussing missing experimental material.
Important.
Serious.
Then Amelia had ruined everything.
I delivered the idiot buzz.
Long.
High.
Personal.
She did not react.
“You spent the walk home looking backward at him.” Reconnaissance.
I moved toward the alphabet cards.
T A C T I C A L Amelia read it.
Her expression remained completely neutral.
That was worse than laughter.
“Tactical.” One buzz: yes.
“What tactical information were you collecting?” Good question.
I began spelling.
H E I G H T Amelia waited.
S P E E D Reasonable.
R E A C H Very important if he tried swatting again.
Amelia folded her hands.
“And his hair?” I stopped.
What about his hair?
“You stared at it for several seconds.” I had not.
Maybe once.
For wind direction.
Aerodynamics.
Probably.
I started grooming.
Amelia sighed.
“Plenteaful.” I stopped.
She leaned closer.
“You know you do not need to dislike every man who speaks to me.” I slowly looked at her.
That was a very broad accusation.
I did not dislike Sam.
Mostly.
Jose was excellent.
Matthew Reed seemed acceptable despite looking one missed deadline away from decomposition.
John Mercer had done nothing personally offensive.
Keyan— Actually, I hadn’t met Keyan properly yet.
So my record was statistically reasonable.
I spelled: H E T R I E D T O K I L L M E Amelia stared.
“Chase attempted to swat a mosquito.” Exactly.
“You were presenting yourself publicly as a mosquito.” Technicality.
“He did not know you were intelligent.” Still attempted murder from my perspective.
Amelia’s lips moved.
Barely.
Do not laugh.
“You cannot count normal pest-control reflexes as attempted murder.” I pointed toward Mayra’s side of the room.
She had tried several times.
We had forgiven her.
After reparations.
Amelia understood the comparison.
“Mayra built you furniture.” Fair.
Chase had built me nothing.
Case closed.
Amelia closed her eyes briefly.
Then reopened them.
“More importantly, you are not biting him.” I froze.
I had not proposed biting.
Not verbally.
She pointed toward my abdomen.
“You began producing venom.” Unfair evidence.
I flew off the pencil.
Landed farther away.
She followed me with her eyes.
“No poisoning.” I gave two buzzes: no.
Meaning no, I wasn’t planning to.
Probably.
“No feeding.” One buzz.
Agreed.
“No flying into his nose.” I paused.
That had never occurred to me.
Interesting.
Amelia saw the pause.
“Absolutely not.” I gave one buzz reluctantly.
Mayra had been right.
Amelia really did know me too well.
She turned back toward the Lot 7C notes.
“Someone flirting badly is not an enemy.” I hovered.
Badly?
Chase had been reasonably polite.
Persistent, perhaps.
But not bad.
I landed again.
Amelia continued reading as though the matter were finished.
Which irritated me.
So I buzzed the attention signal.
She looked up.
I spelled: Y O U S A I D N O “Yes.” H E A S K A G A I N “He may.” I stared.
She was calm about this?
“If he does, I will say no again.” Simple.
Apparently.
I moved my legs in disbelief.
Amelia’s expression softened with faint amusement.
“Human courtship customs are not warfare.” I thought about some of the relationships I’d witnessed in my previous life.
Debatable.
She continued.
“People sometimes misunderstand interest.” Fine.
“Sometimes they hope opinions will change.” Fine.
“That does not make them enemies.” Also fine.
“But if he ignores clear boundaries repeatedly…” Her voice cooled.
There.
“…then I will handle it.” I stopped.
No need for mosquito intervention.
Yet.
I gave one buzz.
Agreement.
Amelia nodded.
“Good.” Annoyingly satisfying.
Then she looked at my proboscis.
“Still no biting.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
— The problem with deciding Chase Morgan was not an enemy was that I immediately began noticing him everywhere.
This was not obsession.
Westbridge was simply a finite geographical environment.
A large one.
But finite.
Also, Chase was difficult to miss.
He played guard for Westbridge’s basketball team.
Not the superstar.
But good enough that people knew him.
His face appeared on athletic posters around campus.
His social-media following was apparently substantial.
Mayra knew this because Mayra knew everything socially useless.
“Thirty-eight thousand followers.” She said it that evening while eating cereal from a mug.
I sat on the top of my enclosure.
Amelia was studying.
Nobody had asked about Chase.
Mayra had brought him up anyway.
“Why are you telling us this?” Amelia asked.
“Context.” “For?” Mayra pointed at Amelia with her spoon.
“You rejected a man with thirty-eight thousand followers in six seconds.” “I would have rejected him with forty thousand.” Mayra stopped.
Then laughed.
“That was cold.” “I don’t understand why the number matters.” “It doesn’t.” “Then why mention it?” Mayra thought.
“Social anthropology.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
Mayra pointed her spoon at me.
“You’re interested too.” Two buzzes.
No.
“You were staring at him yesterday.” Amelia looked toward me.
Traitor.
I flew into the enclosure.
Conversation over.
Mayra grinned.
“He’s jealous.” I struck the mesh with one leg.
No.
Mayra looked delighted.
“Oh my God.” Amelia returned to her textbook.
“Don’t encourage him.” “You’re both terrible liars.” Nobody was lying.
Probably.
Mayra continued.
“His family has money too.” That part caught my attention for legitimate reasons.
Wealth meant connections.
Potential research funding.
Could intersect with Westbridge Biomedical.
Tactical.
I emerged slightly.
Mayra saw.
“See?” I ignored her.
“What family?” Amelia asked, mostly because she was now curious too.
Mayra put down the cereal.
“The Morgans.” That explained the surname.
Useful.
“His dad owns Morgan Development.
Commercial real estate, hotels, apartment complexes.” Amelia’s expression remained blank.
Mayra continued.
“They sponsor half the athletics events.” Not relevant.
“His uncle’s company does private security.” My wings paused.
Security?
Mayra didn’t notice.
“Blackwell Protective Services.” Blackwell.
The name meant nothing to me yet, but its connection to private security made it worth remembering.
Amelia noticed my reaction.
“What?” I landed on the notebook.
Spelled: S E C U R I T Y Mayra nodded.
“Yeah.” I pointed toward: A R B Mayra’s face changed.
“You’re wondering if the companies overlap.” Exactly.
Amelia considered.
“Private contractors sometimes work with federal agencies.” Mayra stared at us.
“You realize we’re talking about Chase’s family because he asked Amelia to dinner.” Coincidence.
Purely tactical.
I groomed one antenna.
Amelia sighed.
“Do not investigate his family solely because you dislike him.” I was offended.
There was a legitimate connection now.
Maybe.
Mayra smiled.
“He absolutely will.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
— The next morning, I discovered something about Chase Morgan that made disliking him inconvenient.
He was good with people.
Genuinely.
Not fake-charming.
Not merely popular because he was wealthy and attractive.
He seemed to actually like humans.
Strange trait.
I was outside with Amelia and Mayra near the student union.
Hidden inside Amelia’s hood again.
We were waiting for Sam, who was supposed to bring us information about Dr.
Esther Caldwell’s greenhouse-access schedule.
Totally normal college espionage.
Chase stood about twenty yards away.
Not speaking to Amelia.
He was helping an older campus employee pick up a box that had split open.
Paper cups had scattered across the pavement.
He crouched without hesitation.
Gathered them.
Joked with the employee.
Carried the replacement box inside.
No audience that mattered.
No dramatic performance.
No attractive woman watching.
Well— I was watching.
But he did not know that.
Annoying.
People were easier when they were one-dimensional.
Amelia felt me shift.
“What?” I remained silent.
She followed my approximate line of attention.
Saw Chase.
Then, incredibly— smiled.
Not romantically.
Do not be ridiculous.
More like she understood exactly what had happened inside my mind.
“Disappointed?” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
She nearly laughed.
Mayra looked between them.
“What?” “Nothing.” I approved.
Then Chase emerged from the building again.
Saw Amelia.
And smiled.
My mood deteriorated.
He approached.
Mayra whispered: “Round two.” Amelia looked at her.
“Mayra.” “I’m not doing anything.” Correct.
This was between Amelia and— No.
Not “between.” He was simply approaching.
Normal human interaction.
Calm.
Chase stopped a respectful distance away.
“Hey.” “Hello.” Better than last time already.
He glanced at Mayra.
“Morning.” “Hey.” Then— his eyes moved toward Amelia’s hood.
I retreated deeper.
He couldn’t see me.
“I wanted to apologize.” I stopped.
Amelia looked mildly surprised.
“For?” “The mosquito thing.” What?
Chase rubbed the back of his neck.
“I shouldn’t have swatted at something sitting on you.” I became extremely still.
That was— reasonable.
He continued.
“I thought about it afterward.
You clearly didn’t want me to.” Amelia looked at him.
Her expression softened by perhaps two percent.
“Thank you.” That was it.
He nodded.
“No problem.” Conversation finished.
Leave.
Then he added: “Still think keeping a mosquito is weird.” I used the idiot buzz from inside the hood.
Very quiet.
Amelia’s neck moved slightly.
She heard.
Chase did not.
“He’s not mine,” Amelia said.
Correct.
Chase smiled.
“Mayra said he’s named Plenteaful.” I almost died.
Amelia turned slowly toward Mayra.
Mayra went pale.
“I said you had a weird mosquito named Plenteaful before I knew…” She stopped.
Before she knew he was reincarnated.
Important sentence not to finish.
Chase looked confused.
“Before you knew what?” Mayra’s brain performed emergency gymnastics.
“Before I knew Amelia was serious about the name.” Awful.
But survivable.
Chase accepted it.
“So Plenteaful.” I remained hidden.
He laughed.
“Better than Kevin.” I stopped disliking him by approximately three percent.
Mayra placed one hand over her heart.
“Excuse you.” Chase ignored her.
Then looked at Amelia.
“I wasn’t going to ask you out again today.” Good man.
I relaxed.
“I just wanted to say sorry.” Excellent man.
“Although…” No.
“…there’s a game Friday.” My hatred returned efficiently.
He smiled.
“If you ever want to come, I can leave tickets.” Amelia considered.
Then answered: “No, thank you.” Clear.
Polite.
Chase nodded.
“Okay.” He did not argue.
Interesting.
Then one of his teammates called from across the plaza.
“Chase!” He lifted a hand.
Looked back at Amelia.
“See you around.” Then left.
I remained inside the hood.
Processing.
Mayra smiled.
“That went well.” Amelia said: “Yes.” I emerged.
Landed on her shoulder.
Mayra looked at me.
“So?” I buzzed twice.
No.
“So what?” I knew what she meant.
My opinion of Chase.
Irrelevant.
She leaned closer.
“He’s not evil.” I stared.
I had never claimed evil.
“He’s actually pretty nice.” I moved one front leg sideways.
Maybe.
Mayra’s grin grew.
“You’re disappointed.” One long, high buzz conveyed my opinion.
Amelia looked amused.
Then she said: “People do not need to be enemies simply because they inconvenience you.” I understood.
But did everyone have to keep making reasonable points today?
It was exhausting.
— Sam arrived ten minutes late carrying a pastry and looking suspicious.
“Why is Chase Morgan walking away from you?” Mayra stared.
“Why does everyone care?” “Because entertainment is scarce before noon.” Fair.
Sam handed Mayra a folded sheet.
“Greenhouse schedule.” Good.
Business.
Mayra opened it.
Dr.
Esther Caldwell had reserved Greenhouse Two tonight from 8:00 to 10:00 PM.
Same greenhouse we’d visited.
Interesting.
“How did you get this?” Amelia asked.
Sam chewed.
“It’s posted in the plant-sciences office.” Legitimate information.
Refreshing.
Mayra scanned the sheet.
“She’s going alone?” “Reservation says Caldwell lab.” Could mean team.
Could mean her.
Sam looked at everyone.
“Are you finally going to tell me why you’re obsessed with her?” “No,” Amelia said.
“Cool.” He bit the pastry.
“I respect consistency.” I liked Sam more every day.
Then he looked at Amelia’s shoulder.
Saw me.
“Oh.” I froze.
He leaned closer.
“That’s the famous mosquito.” No.
Mayra became dangerous.
“His name is Plenteaful.” “Right.” Sam stared.
I assumed normal mosquito posture.
Empty thoughts.
No intelligence.
“Mayra talks about you like a divorced father talks about his kids.” My hatred found a new target.
Amelia looked away.
Mayra elbowed him.
“Shut up.” Sam laughed.
Then his hand lifted.
Not swatting.
Pointing.
Still too close.
I moved behind Amelia’s hair.
He stopped.
“Huh.” Danger.
“He’s really responsive.” Mayra and Amelia both answered at once.
“Coincidence.” Sam slowly looked between them.
“That was incredibly convincing.” Nobody spoke.
He stared a moment longer.
Then shrugged.
“Anyway, I have class.” Bless him.
He left.
Mayra exhaled.
“We are terrible at this.” — We followed Esther Caldwell that evening.
Not into restricted spaces.
At first.
Amelia insisted.
Mayra stayed behind this time.
Too risky.
I flew independently.
Amelia walked.
Greenhouse Two glowed in the darkness.
At 8:07 PM, Esther arrived.
Sixty-ish.
Silver-brown hair cut at her jaw.
Long coat.
Carrying a hard plastic case.
She looked exactly like a senior biology professor.
No strange aura.
No supernatural signal.
Human.
Ordinary.
The Codex confirmed.
— Human biological signature detected.
No significant energetic anomaly.
— One mystery simplified.
Esther unlocked the greenhouse.
Entered.
Amelia waited outside behind a nearby research building.
I followed through the ventilation opening near the roof.
Tiny.
Perfect.
Inside, Esther placed the case on a central table.
Opened it.
My body became still.
Vials.
Brown glass.
Not Lot 7C labeling.
Newer.
Proper codes.
She removed gloves.
Notebook.
Then walked toward the unidentified volunteer plant.
The high-vitality specimen.
Esther examined it.
Took a leaf sample.
Measured the soil.
Nothing suspicious.
Science.
Then she did something strange.
She removed a small handheld detector.
Not university-standard equipment from anything I had seen.
Black.
Compact.
A thin antenna extended.
She passed it near the plant.
Numbers flashed.
I couldn’t read them from my position.
Then the device beeped.
Esther’s face tightened.
She whispered: “Again.” Again.
Important word.
She tested another plant.
Nothing.
Back to the volunteer.
Beep.
Then she walked toward the drain where we’d found drained insect corpses.
Tested it.
The device beeped faster.
Esther closed her eyes.
“Goddammit.” She knew something.
Maybe not supernatural.
But abnormal.
She pulled out her phone.
Called someone.
I moved closer.
Safe distance.
“No, it’s active here too.” I stopped moving.
Who was she talking to?
A pause.
“I said too.” Another.
“No, East Residence isn’t isolated.” Confirmation.
She knew.
“They’ll want another sweep.” ARB?
Probably.
Esther paced.
“I don’t care what Halden says.
Seven-C isn’t doing this by itself.” Exactly what Matthew had said.
Who was Halden?
Another name to add to the growing list.
“If the field is expanding, we need to shut down the campus studies.” Field.
Spiritual energy described through scientific language.
Mayra would love that.
Esther listened.
Then: “No.
I haven’t told Matthew.” Interesting.
“Because he already blames himself.” She looked tired.
“He doesn’t need to know until we know whether the missing shipment actually reached East Residence.” Missing shipment uncertainty.
So Esther didn’t know either.
Good.
Probably not culprit.
She ended the call.
Then stood alone among the plants.
For several seconds, she looked much older.
Worried.
Not villainous.
Another inconveniently complicated human.
I moved toward the ventilation exit.
Mission complete.
Then— Esther spoke.
“You’re very quiet.” I froze.
No.
Impossible.
She looked up.
Directly toward my position.
I remained still.
Maybe not me.
“There you are.” Definitely me.
My wings spread.
Esther did not reach for anything.
She simply stared.
“You’re not one of mine.” What did that mean?
She stepped closer.
I moved back.
“Easy.” Her voice softened.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Everyone said that before experiments.
I prepared to leave.
Then her detector beeped.
Pointed toward me.
Esther looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
Completely.
Shock.
“What…” The device beeped again.
She stared at me.
Then whispered: “That’s impossible.” Danger.
I launched toward the vent.
Esther moved.
Not superhuman.
Just fast for an older academic who had apparently spent decades grabbing escaping research insects.
A transparent specimen cup appeared in my path.
I turned.
She missed.
Barely.
“Wait!” No.
Absolutely not.
I flew higher.
She moved the cup again.
Blocked the vent.
Smart.
I reversed.
Greenhouse door.
Too far.
Other roof vents?
Yes.
Across the structure.
I accelerated.
Esther did not chase wildly.
Instead, she reached for the wall panel.
Fans activated.
Air currents changed.
My entire body jerked sideways.
Oh, she was good.
I dropped behind a plant tray.
Wind passed overhead.
Esther approached.
“Easy.” No.
“You shouldn’t have that signature.” Whatever that meant.
I crawled under a leaf.
Her detector beeped.
Tracked me.
Not visually.
Energy.
Bad.
Very bad.
Could it detect Ice Phoenix residue?
My traits?
The Codex?
I needed out.
The ventilation fans pulled toward the ceiling ducts.
Maybe use them.
I launched into the airflow.
Immediately swept upward.
Esther saw.
“No!” Too late.
I angled toward an exhaust vent.
The fan dragged me.
Fast.
Dangerously.
Metal grille ahead.
Tiny gaps.
Enough.
I tucked wings.
Passed through.
One leg clipped metal.
Reinforced shell held.
Then— outside.
Cold air.
Freedom.
I dropped away from the exhaust before Esther could reverse the fan.
Amelia waited behind the building.
I flew toward her at full speed.
Danger signal.
Rapid.
She immediately held out a hand.
I landed.
“What?” I buzzed again.
Pointed toward greenhouse.
Then detector gesture.
Then myself.
Amelia’s face hardened.
“She saw you.” Yes.
“Recognized something.” Yes.
Not what.
But something.
Inside the greenhouse, Esther appeared at the door.
Looked around.
Amelia moved into shadow.
We stayed silent.
Esther scanned the night.
Then looked down at her device.
Her expression troubled.
Not hunting.
Thinking.
Finally she went back inside.
Amelia whispered: “We leave.” Absolutely.
No argument.
— Back in Room 317, Mayra listened to the report.
Then stared.
“Dr.
Caldwell has a mosquito radar.” Crude.
Accurate.
Amelia ignored terminology.
“More likely an energy-field detector.” Mayra looked at me.
“And Plenteaful set it off.” Yes.
Why?
Frost residue?
Mutated traits?
Codex?
Something else?
The device had reacted stronger than to the plant.
Esther had said: You shouldn’t have that signature.
What signature?
Mayra wrote the phrase down.
Then: “Do we talk to her?” No.
I buzzed twice.
Amelia agreed.
“Not yet.” Mayra sighed.
“Everyone says not yet.” Because everyone kept becoming suspicious.
We had learned several important things.
Esther knew the East Residence anomaly was part of a broader “field.” She knew Lot 7C wasn’t sufficient to explain mutation.
She had contact with somebody else—possibly ARB.
She was actively monitoring spiritual-energy manifestations through scientific instruments.
And now— she knew there was an anomalous mosquito on campus.
Maybe not Plenteaful.
Not yet.
But she had seen me.
I looked toward my enclosure.
The unknown spirit beast called me a cute little pet.
ARB agents had looked at me twice.
Jose had started noticing odd details.
Esther Caldwell had detector-confirmed that I was impossible.
My secret was becoming less secret by the day.
Amelia must have seen the thought.
She placed one finger beside me.
“Then we become more careful.” Yes.
Small.
Quiet.
Unnoticed.
That was supposed to be my greatest advantage.
Time to actually use it.
Outside the window, campus remained peaceful.
Students laughed beneath streetlights.
Somewhere out there, Chase Morgan was probably living an annoyingly normal human life.
For once— I envied him.
Just slightly.
Then the Codex opened without being summoned.
— New environmental scan data incorporated.
Unidentified external detection successfully interacted with host biological field.
Codex analysis: Host evolutionary signature is becoming externally measurable.
— I stared.
“What does that mean?” The answer appeared.
— As host evolves, complete concealment through ordinary mosquito appearance will become progressively less reliable.
— Fantastic.
So becoming stronger would make hiding harder.
Tradeoffs.
Always tradeoffs.
I looked at Amelia.
She couldn’t see the message.
But she saw my mood.
“What?” I moved toward the notebook.
Spelled: S T R O N G E R E A S I E R T O F I N D Amelia read.
Her expression became serious.
Mayra stared.
“That’s bad.” One buzz: yes.
Then Amelia looked toward the unused Light-Absorbing Chitin template.
Stealth.
Exactly.
She tapped it.
“Then perhaps your next evolution has already chosen itself.” I looked at the trait.
Ten energy.
Current balance: almost nothing.
But she was right.
If power made me visible— I needed biology that made me disappear.
My next goal became clear.
Light-Absorbing Chitin I.
Not because it was impressive.
Because the world had started looking back.