**Thursday Evening**
The conference room on the upper levels of Association headquarters was quiet when Felix walked in.
Elena Voss, Gideon Rask, and Dr. Evelyn Hart were already seated around the long table, he’d asked for all three, and all three had shown up, which told him they’d at least taken the request seriously.
He dropped into the chair across from them.
"Thanks for making time."
"You said it was about Seraphina," Elena said.
"It is." Felix leaned forward, elbows on the table. "She asked me to train her."
That got their attention. Evelyn set down her tablet. "She asked you directly?"
"Today, during our session. She wants to actually be strong." Felix shrugged.
"I didn’t say yes on the spot. Figured that was a decision above my pay grade."
Gideon studied him. "You’re asking our permission."
"I’m asking whether the Association’s willing to let a Tier 1 S-rank prisoner build real combat skill, yes. Seemed like the kind of thing I shouldn’t just decide on my own."
Elena and Evelyn exchanged a glance.
"That’s... surprisingly responsible of you," Elena said.
"I have my moments."
Gideon didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either. Elena pulled a file toward her and opened it instead. "Let’s talk it through properly, then."
Felix settled back. "Go ahead."
"You already understand what she is," Elena said. "If she’s trained properly, that potential is enormous. If she reverts to who she used to be, that same potential is a catastrophe. That’s the entire risk calculus of this program in one sentence."
Felix nodded. Fair enough.
"The purpose of this program was never just obedience," Evelyn added. "We’re trying to find out whether someone can actually be rehabilitated and turned into something that helps against the rifts instead of against people. Most awakened are Tier 3. Tier 2 is already rare. Tier 1 is close to unheard of. That’s why the Association is willing to take this kind of risk at all."
"Otherwise they’d already be dead," Felix said.
"Correct," Gideon said flatly. "No second chances below Tier 1 and the Association isn’t spending resources rehabilitating someone without exceptional potential to show for it."
"The five candidates in this program all committed crimes severe enough to warrant execution," Evelyn said. "Their talent is the only reason they’re still breathing. If the program fails, they eventually get the sentence they were always owed."
"And you think Seraphina might actually pull it off."
"She’s the first one who’s given us a real reason to think so," Evelyn said.
Felix’s expression shifted slightly at that. "How are the others doing?"
Evelyn’s mouth tightened. "Badly. I’ve tried putting psychologists and mental healers on the other four. Some refuse to speak entirely. Some have attacked staff. One nearly convinced her assigned therapist she’d reformed, then almost killed her the following week."
Felix winced. "That’s rough."
"That’s the polite version," Evelyn said.
"She’s not cooperating with anyone else, either," Gideon added. "Hostile or indifferent to every staff member who isn’t you. But the moment you walk into that cell, something changes. She talks to you. Listens to you. Follows your instructions." He paused.
"You’re the only exception we’ve found."
Felix rubbed his chin, trying and failing to look modest about it. "Must be the charm."
"Don’t make me regret saying that out loud."
Felix grinned, and Elena cut back in before it could go further. "That’s exactly why we’re willing to consider this. Controlled conditions. With you running it."
"There’s a condition, though," Evelyn said. "If we let her build real combat ability, we need continued proof the rehabilitation itself is working, not just that she’s getting stronger, but that she’s earning the trust to go with it."
"So the training becomes part of the evaluation."
"Exactly."
Felix thought it over. That tracked raw power without control or trust was exactly the kind of asset that turned into a liability the moment things went sideways. "How much training, and how often?"
"Two hours," Elena said. "Thursday and Friday, after your regular sessions."
Felix paused. "So I run the rehab session, and then immediately turn around and train her for two more hours. Twice a week."
"Yes."
A slow, entirely too satisfied smile spread across his face. Gideon caught it immediately.
"This is additional responsibility," Felix said, spreading his hands like the point was self-evident. "I’m already doing rehab work on top of my actual job, which is being a combat healer, not a therapist and not a combat instructor. Now you want me running both, on the same two days, back to back?"
"Under supervision," Elena said.
"Still additional work."
"What do you want?" Elena asked, narrowing her eyes.
Felix’s smile widened. "Now we’re talking."
"You’re shameless," Gideon muttered.
"I prefer ’practical.’"
Fifteen minutes later he walked out with a further pay bump, expanded program allowances, and a short list of other perks he’d talked them into. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
Gideon fell into step beside him in the corridor. "You just extorted the rehabilitation division."
"I negotiated."
Gideon sighed. "You’re impossible."
**Friday**
Seraphina noticed something was different the moment Felix stepped into her cell, book under his arm, same as always, but his expression was a little too pleased with itself.
"What happened?"
"Good news," he said. "You can train."
She went still. "Train?"
"Combat training."
"With you?"
"Who else would put up with you?"
Something warm moved through her chest, and she looked down before he could catch it. He didn’t notice, too busy explaining.
"Association signed off. Two hours after our regular sessions, Thursday and Friday."
She nodded once. "Understood."
"Good." He nodded toward the door. "Come on, then."
The training room sat several levels below the main prison block: reinforced walls, mana-resistant flooring, suppression systems built into every surface, equipment rated to survive attacks that would level an ordinary room.
Felix walked to the center and waited for her to take the opposite side.
"First rule," he said. "Forget you’re an S-rank."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because right now your rank’s doing you more harm than good. You’ve spent years leaning on raw mana output. You attack because you can, not because you know how. Your footwork doesn’t exist, your defense is bad, your mana control is crude, and your combat instincts are basically starting from zero."
"You said that yesterday."
"I’ll probably say it again tomorrow." He grinned. "Now, feet apart."
She copied him.
"Lower your center."
She adjusted.
"Relax your shoulders."
She adjusted again, and he circled her once, correcting her stance with a hand here, a small push there. "Good. Again."
She repeated it. He corrected her. Again, and again, and she never once complained or argued, just followed every instruction, because it was Felix giving them.
His presence had become something she leaned on. His voice gave her direction. His approval mattered.
Felix noticed none of it. To him this was just another job, another line of income, another responsibility stacked on top of an already full week.
He had no idea the woman following his every correction was quietly starting to tie her progress, her sense of safety, even the strange peace she only felt around him, to one specific person.
Him.
And that quiet dependence was only the beginning.