Chapter 318: Slippers
The last dinner before Kael returned to the Tower was quieter than it should have been.
Celestine had tried to make it normal.
That was the painful part.
She cooked more food than two people needed, even though Kael had told her they could order whatever she wanted. She insisted on using the new kitchen herself, learning where the knives were, where the plates had been placed, how the expensive stove worked, and which cabinet hid the spices. The penthouse had a kitchen large enough to make their old apartment look like a cruel joke, and for most of the evening, she moved through it with stubborn focus, as if preparing dinner properly could delay the clock by a few hours.
Kael helped where he was allowed.
Mostly, he was told to sit down and stop hovering.
So he sat at the counter and watched his mother cook.
It was such a simple thing.
After everything, that simplicity hurt more than expected. The Tower had given him strength. Money. Equipment. Scars. It had given him the Elixir that saved her. But it had also turned an ordinary dinner into something with a countdown behind it. Every clink of plates, every small smile, every question about seasoning sat under the fact that Kael would leave soon, and neither of them knew exactly when he would come back.
They ate near the wide glass wall overlooking the city.
Celestine asked him normal questions at first. Whether he had eaten enough. Whether his clothes were packed. Whether the Association bracelet would work inside the Tower. Whether he needed anything else before leaving.
Kael answered what he could.
Then her composure broke.
She lowered her fork, covered her mouth with one hand, and began to cry.
Kael did not stop her this time.
Before, he had asked her not to cry because he could not handle it. That had been true. It was still true. But stopping her would have been selfish. She had spent years asleep, woken to a son changed beyond recognition, been given a house, money, security, and a single month with him before the same Tower that saved her life took him away again.
She had earned the right to break a little.
So Kael sat there quietly and let her cry.
He moved closer only after a while, pulling his chair beside hers and placing one careful hand over hers on the table. Celestine held onto him tightly, as if he might vanish if she loosened her grip too soon.
"I’ll return soon," Kael said. "Don’t worry about it."
She laughed through tears, bitter and tender at the same time. "That is impossible."
"What is?"
"Not worrying."
Kael had no answer for that.
She asked if he wanted tea. He said no. She asked if he wanted her to wake early and make breakfast. He told her he did not know when the Tower would call.
That made both of them quiet.
Kael checked the security one more time. He checked the locks, the bracelet connection, the emergency alarm, the building guard status, and the Association-linked response system. Everything was active. Everything was paid for. Everything that could be done for his mother had been done.
Money secured.
House secured.
Security secured.
Medical follow-ups arranged.
Emergency funds separated.
If he died, she would not be thrown back into the world empty-handed.
That thought should have comforted him.
It did not.
Kael went into his room to rest.
The bedroom was too large.
That was the first thing he thought every time he entered it. The bed was too soft. The sheets too clean. The window too wide. The floor too quiet beneath his steps. Everything about the room was designed for comfort, and for nearly a month, he had forced himself to accept pieces of it. A good mattress. Warm showers. Food that was not eaten in a hurry. No blood. No monster cries. No dark corridors where breathing too loudly might call something with too many teeth.
Now that comfort worked against him.
He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
Sleep would not come.
The Tower waited somewhere beyond the world, and his body knew it. It remembered rough terrain. Wet stone. Screaming monsters. Blood moon light. Vanitas darkness. Safe zones that were only safe until someone changed the shape of danger around them. It remembered the Fist King’s fists, Andre’s forge, the streets of Vanitas, the dog-faced horrors, the Butcher, the lanterns, and the hateful pressure of a place that wanted climbers dead but preferred them afraid first.
The mattress beneath him felt like a lie.
Kael turned onto his side.
Then onto his back again.
The city lights stretched across the ceiling in faint reflections. Somewhere outside, traffic moved. Somewhere down below, guards watched the building. Somewhere across the city, Asher Vylan continued existing like a disease with good publicity.
Kael closed his eyes.
"I have to get out of there," he murmured. "I have to come back."
He could not die in the Tower and leave her with only a bank account and an empty home filled with too much space.
His breathing slowed.
Not sleep.
Just the edge of it.
Then the window appeared.
[You have been invited to the Tower of the Dead!]
Kael’s eyes snapped open.
The bedroom vanished.
His back hit cold stone.
The air changed so violently that his lungs tightened before he drew a full breath. Comfort disappeared. Warmth disappeared. The faint smell of clean sheets and city air was replaced by damp rot, old smoke, and the oily pressure of darkness that did not merely surround the world, but seemed to watch it. Above him, there was no ceiling. Only the ruined night of Vanitas, black and heavy, with dim shapes of broken structures rising like teeth beyond the boundary of blue light.
[Floor of Vanitas welcomes you!]
Kael lay flat on his back.
For half a second, he did not move.
Then he slowly turned his head left.
A lantern burned nearby.
Blue flame flickered inside it, casting a safe circle of light across cracked stone, broken pavement, and the remains of what might once have been a street. The darkness beyond the lantern’s reach pressed close, hungry but held back. The air hissed faintly where the blue light met the black. A checkpoint. A safe zone.
Someone sat beside it.
A woman.
Red hair. Strong build. Weapon within reach. The look of someone who had survived long enough to distrust everything, including miracles, lanterns, and men who appeared from nowhere.
Yenna.
She stared at him.
Kael stared back.
For a moment, neither moved.
He was surprised because he knew her.
She was surprised for two reasons.
First, because a man had just appeared flat on his back beside the lantern.
Second, because that man was wearing pajamas and slippers.
"What the fuck?" Yenna said.
Kael looked down.
Soft sleep shirt.
Loose pajama pants.
Slippers.
The Tower of the Dead had dragged him out of his bedroom exactly as he was.
A long silence followed.
Kael sighed.
"Oh. You again."
Yenna stood in one sharp motion.
Her weapon was halfway in her hand before she seemed to decide his clothes were either the greatest trap she had ever seen or the stupidest thing the Tower had ever done. She crossed the distance quickly, grabbed his wrist, and yanked his hand upward.
"What are you doing with this?" she demanded. "How did you get this?"
Kael frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He looked at the hand she held.
Then saw it.
The Association bracelet.
Small, sleek, modern, and very much not from the Tower of the Dead.
Kael’s stomach sank.
"Ah..."
Yenna’s eyes widened with a dangerous kind of understanding. "You went back? To Earth? From the Tower of the Dead?"
"No!" Kael shouted, sitting up so fast she almost stepped back. "Don’t say anything else!"
The lantern flame flickered.
For one horrible second, Kael expected death.
Not metaphorical death.
Not danger.
Execution.
Torrac’s warning came back with perfect clarity. If he spoke of the Tower of the Dead, if anyone learned the truth, the Tower would kill him and everyone who heard it. Yenna had said enough. Too much. The bracelet had been enough to form the thought. The words had made it real.
Kael froze.
Yenna froze too, though more from confusion than fear.
Nothing happened.
The blue lantern kept burning.
The darkness outside the safe zone kept pressing.
No invisible blade descended.
No system window announced punishment.
No death.
At least, not then and there.
Then space twisted open beside them.
Torrac appeared through a small portal, ears stiff, eyes furious, looking like a rabbit that had been personally betrayed by paperwork.
"For crying out loud, man!" Torrac shouted. "Why are you making me work too damn much?"
Kael stared at him. "You again."
"You say that like I want to be here."
"Well, it’s not my fault. The Tower summoned me with my gear. I didn’t say anything."
"I know," Torrac snapped. "The Tower knows. Everyone who matters knows. But we have to deal with this issue."
Yenna looked between them, one hand still gripping Kael’s wrist. "What are you talking about? What is going on?"
Torrac turned toward her.
His expression sharpened with administrative irritation.
"Well, since it comes to this..."
He snapped his fingers.
A notification appeared in front of Kael.
[You can freely discuss your situation with, and only with climber Yenna.]
Another appeared before Yenna, its light reflected in her furious eyes.
[You cannot divulge the knowledge you just obtained about climber Kael to anyone within the Tower of the Dead.]
[By revealing that the climber is able to go back to Earth, you will be immediately executed and all those who will learn of such knowledge.]
Yenna read it.
Once.
Then again.
Then slowly turned toward Kael.
Her eyes screamed bloody murder.
"You just bound me with this."
Kael raised both hands. "I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t my fault. It was the Tower’s mistake."
"Do not be an idiot," Torrac said.
"What do you mean? I’m now forced into a scenario I don’t want."
Torrac’s ears twitched. "Think about it for a bit."
Torrac pointed at Yenna. "Isn’t this good for you? To know someone who can go out of the Tower of the Dead and back to the real world?"
Yenna’s anger faltered.
Just slightly.
Torrac looked at her now. "Don’t you have unfinished business?"
The words landed.
Yenna’s grip on Kael’s wrist loosened by a fraction.
Torrac shrugged as if he had not just cracked open something deeply buried. Then he opened another portal with a flick of his paw.
"My part is done. Try not to make me come back for something stupid."
Then Torrac stepped through the portal and vanished.
The safe zone went quiet again.
Yenna released Kael’s wrist.
The blue lantern burned between them.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Yenna looked at him with narrowed eyes. "How are you able to leave the Tower of the Dead?"
Kael exhaled.
"Give me a second."
He stood up.
The slippers made an embarrassing sound against the stone.
Yenna looked down at them.
Kael pointed at her. "Not a word."
"I said nothing."
"Your face did."
Kael opened his inventory and equipped his gear.
The pajamas vanished beneath proper armor and leather. The Journeyman’s Leather Jacket settled over his frame. The helmet remained off for now, but the gauntlets formed around his hands, rune sockets resting where they belonged. Belt. Rings. Equipment. Weight. Familiar burden. He placed the Association bracelet into his inventory and made sure it stayed there. For good measure, he checked the three Torches of Vanitas.
Still there.
Good.
Only once he was properly equipped did he sit near the lantern.
Yenna remained standing for a while longer before finally sitting opposite him, her weapon still close enough to reach in a blink. Her red hair caught the blue lantern light strangely, turning darker at the edges. She watched him with the focused hostility of someone deciding whether new information was a rope or a knife.
"Since the Tower allows me to talk about it," Kael said, "you better listen up."