So she did what any girl being mentally derailed by her shadow self would do

  She stuttered.

  “S-so…” she mumbled, turning her face just slightly so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “How did the thing with my brother come about? Are you like… secretly… I don’t know. A werewolf? Like w-what h-happened there?”

  Shadow cooed inside her head like the worst gremlin in history.

  He shouldn’t tell us that. We’d die of thirst.

  SHUT THE HELL UP, SHADOW!

  Kellan paused, a noodle halfway to his mouth, blinking.

  Then he gave her a look. That soft look. The one that said he saw through her anxiety, through her panic, and was choosing not to mock it.

  “That’s your guess? Werewolf?” he said with a small smile. “I mean. Not the worst theory.”

  Monique buried her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

  “Well, you asked?” He said, still smiling, but now a little more serious. “Your brother recruited me a year ago. I was flagged in a file psychological profile, near death event, mild telepathic sensitivity. The kind of person who sees things they shouldn’t.”

  He looked at her, expression shifting. “Then I saw you, with my new eyes, not literally new but you know, different perspective. And Connor gave me one order: ‘Don’t let her get pulled in.”

  “I failed that. Spectacularly. And I am so sorry.”

  Hey Kellan, speaking of pulling,

  I really think that you should have pulled my hair. That would be really good, you know, as bonding~

  Monique sat, rigid in Kellan’s lap, her soul screaming into a pillow while Shuyet kicked her feet in the background of her consciousness like a delighted pervert at a psychic slumber party.

  She refused to engage.

  Refused to blink.

  Refused to breathe funny.

  I am not dignifying that with a reaction, she thought violently.

  Shuyet just hummed. Soon.

  Monique kept her voice steady-miraculously-and said, “Pulled into what?”

  Kellan set the empty food container aside. His hands weren’t touching her, but they hovered like he wanted to.

  Like he wasn’t sure if he should. He should but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  His expression sobered.

  “Pulled into this,” he said quietly. “Ghosts. Magic. Conspiracy. The deeper layers. The systems no one talks about. The shit that makes ghosts look like birthday clowns.”

  He hesitated.

  “Connor works for a program that doesn’t officially exist. We fight ghosts. We contain anchors. Prevent spiritual recursion. We look for patterns in soul resonance-people who echo other people. Or things.”

  Monique’s brows drew together. “And I'm one of those… echoes or whatever?”

  He nodded, then he shook his head, then he nodded again. “Yes? No? Worse. You’re not just carrying weight, you’re made of it. That doesn't make sense… It's like every piece of your soul is active, not just as a whole but as a thing. That’s not supposed to happen. The whole is bigger than its parts, so what happens if the parts get whole and bigger? What if it happens anyway? And that amalgamation then develops? What if instead of shattering , you live?”

  He finally met her eyes

  “Things wake up.”

  Behind her eyes, Shuyet whispered,

  Told you you were special, darling~

  Monique slid off his lap like she was shedding a skin-regal detachment mode: activated. She sat across from him now, cross-legged and sharp-eyed, her playful edge tucked neatly beneath a blade of cynicism.

  “Why does the government care?” she asked, resting her chin in her palm. “Do ghosts threaten to cut into billionaire profits or something?”

  Kellan blinked, lips twitching at the sarcasm, but didn’t smile.

  “No,” he said, quiet now. “Not directly. But when a soul doesn’t stay dead, when echoes grow strong enough to punch through the veil, it warps things. People stop obeying patterns, from going to work, to having a heartbeat. Empires fall. Entire regions of memory become unstable. Regions of memory in the collective unconscious, not you know, like the right frontal lobe. That’s bad for business, even to the most cynical and greedy.”

  Monique frowned. “Memory?”

  He nodded. “The world doesn’t just run on laws and money, Momo. It runs on consistency. History. Narrative. And Ghosts, as well as whatever else is lurking, don’t just rattle chains. They rewrite meaning. When people start remembering things that were erased or worse, things that never happened, systems crack. And people die.”

  He leaned forward, eyes catching hers like gravity.

  “So, If someone like you goes fully active-with all your pieces aligned….”

  A pause. His voice got softer.

  “Then you'd be a centerpiece. Something other souls orbit. You’d pull things toward you. Gravity, not just charisma. Pulling things like other entities. Old ones. Hungry ones. The kind of beings governments don’t know how to tax or control, so they try to bury them under denial and concrete.” He took a deep breath “The first thing humanity invented when we climbed down the trees was sin. This is good, that is bad. Then we invented lying. Looking at something and saying No. That doesn't exist. “ He shook his head “If everyone around you tells you that something isn't real, even if you can clearly see it, you're going to try your best to stop seeing it, just to not be alone. If everyone agrees that ghosts don't exist, then they don't exist. So yes, for once burying the stuff we don't understand in denial, lies and concrete is the better solution.”

  Monique stared at him, feeling the weight of it settle into her bones.

  “So,” she said slowly, “I’m not dangerous to people.”

  Kellan held her gaze.

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  “You’re dangerous to systems. To collectives. To organizations. Perhaps not to a person.”

  Monique’s fingers curled into her leggings as the weight of his words sank deeper, hard and cold and infuriatingly vague. She didn't understand anything. They were all just throwing terms at her head, like she understood any of this.

  She leaned forward, eyes dark and voice acid-slicked.

  “How, Kellan?” she snapped. “Will the gerontocrats fall over dead if I read Das Kapital in front of Congress? Do I just walk into a police station and say ‘hui hui be gone, structural racism’ and then boom, utopia?”

  Her voice cracked just a little on the sarcasm, the rage building under her ribs like a pressure cooker.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Kellan didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to laugh it off or meet her sharpness with soft reassurance. He just nodded. Like he expected that reaction.

  Like he understood it.

  “Not like that,” he said quietly. “Not in any way that neat. You're not thinking nearly big enough.”

  He shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded loosely-almost like he was praying. Or confessing. He was closer again now.

  “Souls like yours? When they fully awake, they don’t just inspire change, Monique. They rewrite causality. They don’t burn systems down-they make them impossible to believe in. You walk into a room and people start remembering things differently. Questioning what was always taken for granted. And I don’t just mean the social order. ”

  She stared at him, heat rising behind her eyes.

  “That sounds like poetic bullshit.”

  “It is, a little,” he admitted. “But it’s also why your brother begged me not to let you get involved. Because if you wake up all the way, if you become a focal point? The world starts remembering what it was before it was shaped into what it is.”

  “And what was it?” she asked, voice low.

  Kellan met her gaze.

  “Haunted. Chaotic. Magic. A troll under every bridge and a Fae under every hill. A monster in every closet. The industrial revolution had many downsides but the widespread adoption of the ideas of the enlightenment that accompanied it, wasn't one of them. ”

  A long, heavy silence fell between them.

  Shuyet stirred inside her like a sleeping god rolling over, pleased.

  Sounds delightful.

  Monique leaned forward, eyes narrowing with sharp curiosity and something more dangerous flickering behind her lashes.

  She adjusted her neckline-an instinctive move, trying to lean into power, suggestion, distraction.

  Unfortunately, she’d layered. Undershirt. Thermal. The Works.

  So instead of seductive cleavage, she revealed approximately a millimeter more collarbone and the faded outline of a black tank strap.

  It was, at best, mildly flirty.

  At worst? Cozy.

  But the intent was there.

  And Kellan noticed.

  He tracked the movement-then looked up at her face, mouth twitching into a crooked, amused little smile that she very much wanted to slap and kiss in equal measure.

  “What are you really?” she asked, voice a purr laced with warning. “Because I don’t think you’re just some field agent who fell into my lap by accident. Because field agents take a while to train.”

  Kellan’s smile faded. Just a little.

  He looked at her like someone reaching for the truth but still unsure if it would bite him. If she was the truth, she definitely would.

  “I’m not,” he admitted

  A pause.

  Then quietly he began “I’m only partially tethered. Not fully human. Possibly, some of those alleged changelings in my family weren't just neurodivergent. Also something happened to me when I was thirteen out in the woods, camping with my grandfather. I saw something. I spoke to something. And it didn’t take me.” He shuddered, drawing into himself “ It just ate him.” He choked, for a moment Monique could see what he was seeing, she wanted to close her eyes but that only made it worse. Kellan gave a deep breath. “Said, I should be careful whom I tell my name.” He shook, “Said that they'd already stolen one name and several children from my line.” She clasped his hand and he gave a small smile. “It didn't take me, it just marked me.”

  “Im… I don't know if sorry is even enough Kellan. It really fucking sucks that that happened to you.“ Monique whispered. “But how does that lead to you working for Connor?”

  She was horrible. Horrible. Using her alleged boyfriend for information after he'd shared something so personal with her. Horrible. She deserved Adelaide.

  Kellan moved a hand under Monique's chin. She let him. Looking up into his green eyes. She had always thought they were beautiful, with that little amber ring around his pupils. “I'm over it, I just don't like thinking about it.“ He told her softly.

  For someone so tall he's really tender. I bet he would be great with children.

  She wasn't going to engage with Shuyet. Or point out that Kellan was lying. She raised her shoulders up to her ears “um… you can kiss me if you w-want…” she whispered. Monique almost expected him to say something like what? Out of pity? But he didn't. Instead he just kissed her.

  It was still really good.

  But at some point they needed to breathe.

  He also tasted a bit like the noodles, even if she wasn't going to use her tongue.

  Do you know what other tastes are influenced?

  SHUT UP SHADOW!

  After they had drawn apart again, he let go of her chin.

  “So do you want to know how I came to work with Connor? “ He asked, his tone overly casual, she could tell he was putting on a front.

  “Only if it doesn't hurt you.” She told him folding her arms in front of her shirt.

  “It won't. “ He said, lying again.

  It was… difficult to decide if Kellan hurting himself to help her was cute, hot or a red flag.

  It was all three.

  Probably.

  “I woke up in the hospital. There was some government person there, you know suit, sunglasses, the works, I didn't really question why it wasn't a Doctor. They said that my Grandpa had had a stroke and died on the spot and that I hurt myself trying to get help. They said that if I thought otherwise, they'd get back to me. The Person's voice was weird. For years, even though I remembered what actually happened, I believed I was wrong. “ Kellan began. Monique was glued to his lips… to listen to the story of course. “Then, at the beginning of last year, we got put into the same classes. And I saw you. “

  She huffed “ So its my fault now”

  He smirked at her “Kinda. When I saw you again, weird stuff happened - I won't elaborate, it's not important- and your brother asked me to check in on you every once in a while. “

  She glared at him “Fucking Connor. You really should elaborate. “

  “Fine. “ He said, sounding theatrically defeated.

  “That original thing with my Grandpa took out one of my kidneys. After we were put into the same class again, I had some weird vision of you , and then my lower body started hurting like hell. I made it through the day but after school I skipped training and went to the hospital. They did a scan and my kidney, the one that got removed, at that same hospital, was back. I passed out, whether from the shock or the confusion, or the claustrophobia of the machine I don't know. When I woke up your brother was there, again I didn't question that- somehow. He asked if I remembered what happened with my grandpa, and I said yes and that he got eaten. Connor said that the whole kidney thing was wiped from my medical records now and everything was paid, and that I was working for him now…” He noticed Monique's look at that statement. “Uh… but he said it in a way where it didn't sound evil?”

  She almost didn't want to believe him, but she knew her brother.

  “That sounds like something he would do. Again, sorry about your Grandpa being eaten”

  Also she was poignantly ignoring the fact that she made a kidney reappear, because that was impossible.

  Kellan snorted.

  Sorry about your Grandpa being eaten.

  Her phone made a noise.

  She looked down. It was a message from Connor. ETA 2 hours. Stay where you are.

  Monique grinned and sat down in Kellan's lap. He raised an eyebrow but she just winked at him. “So anyway what do-”

  Whatever he was about to say, he was about to say he was interrupted by her phone ringing

  The screen just said Dad.