Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 83: Root Cause (1)

Root Cause 

1

Yesterday.

If Lust had embedded itself within the vast sprawl of the internet, then tracking it meant stepping directly into its domain. That presented a complication.

Eydis wasn’t deeply familiar with this world’s technology, but she understood the basics. Any irregular activity would be noticed. A single misstep could alert the wrong people, bringing them directly to this very dorm.

How could she track and isolate Lust while keeping herself untraceable?

Anonymous. Ah.

She turned to Astra. “There are resistance groups against both the Council and the Van Nassaus, aren’t there? Organised, capable ones.”

Astra, seated at the desk, barely reacted at first. Then, slowly, she leaned back in the swivel chair, arms crossing. The white glow of the laptop cast flickering shadows across her face.

Eydis arched a brow.

“There were,” Astra said after a long pause. “Most didn’t last.”

“And the one that did?”

Astra’s crimson eyes darkened. “The Obsidian Legion.”

A smile played at Eydis’s lips. “So it’s true.”

“You’ve heard of them.”

“More than heard.” Eydis tilted her head. “Someone once claimed I was one of them. Or rather, that the original owner of this body was.”

“And you believe them?” Astra asked. 

“They even called me the ‘Queen of Shadows.’” Eydis shrugged. 

Astra’s fingers curled slightly against the desk before she caught herself, stretching them flat again.

“The Obsidian Legion is a decentralised group of highly evasive hackers,” Astra said. “Anonymous handles. No real names. No links. That’s why neither the Council nor the Van Nassau task force could trace them. They’re meticulous. Practically no actionable evidence exists. And if one gets caught—”

“The rest remain untouchable,” Eydis concluded. “Even the one in charge.”

Astra nodded. “Each member is given small, isolated tasks. No single one of them understands the whole plan. That way, even if someone betrays the group…”

“They reveal nothing useful.” Eydis lips curved slightly. “Clever. Like the infamous crypto crash event?"

Astra studied her for a beat too long. “The instructions for that operation were layered through decentralised blockchain relays, making it difficult for the Council to intercept them.”

Eydis’s eyes twinkled. “You do realise half of those words mean nothing to me.” She laced her fingers with Astra’s, applying just enough pressure for her breath to hitch. “But I do find competence rather… compelling.”

A faint flush dusted Astra’s cheeks. She cleared her throat but didn’t pull away.

“The Council threw quantum decryption models at them, but it didn’t matter. The moment the Legion detects an intrusion attempt, the entire network purges itself.” 

“So, what you’re telling me is, the Council wasted their fancy technology on a losing game?”

Astra shrugged. “It wasn’t a total loss. They breached the Legion’s forum. Once, briefly. For two minutes.”

“And?”

“They pulled a few names before the system collapsed,” Astra said.

Eydis said nothing, fingers tapping her lips.

“Most weren’t known to the Council,” Astra continued. “Except for one. Chimera. Allegedly tied to criminal activities outside the Legion.”

Eydis’s fingers stilled.

Astra’s perceptive gaze caught the movement. “You know them.”

“I have an idea.” Eydis sifted through the ravens’ memories, zeroing in on their manipulation of Thomas.

“Do you remember when Natalia and Tiffany’s duel got leaked to the public?”

Astra frowned. “Wait… you’re saying the Obsidian Legion was behind that?”

“Chimera, to be precise,” Eydis murmured.

Astra’s mind was already working through the implications. “The school’s intranet is isolated, air-gapped. Whoever breached it had to be inside the school or close enough to intercept the network.” She paused. “We assumed it was a student.”

Eydis inclined her head but didn’t say anything.

Astra’s eyes narrowed. “A Gifted student.”

“Wouldn’t that be interesting?” Eydis let the word unfurl deliberately, teasing.

Astra leaned forward, arms braced against the desk. “And you think you know who Chimera is.”

How sharp.

Eydis’s smile didn’t waver. “I have a theory.”

Astra’s patience was wearing thin. “You plan to make them work for us?”

“Mm.” Eydis let the non-answer hum between them.

Astra exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Tell me you at least have a plan.”

Eydis leaned in, close enough that her breath ghosted against Astra’s lips. “I could. But where’s the fun in that?”

Astra let out a slow, incredulous breath. “Unbelievable—”

Eydis silenced her with a kiss. Soft. Brief. Just enough to make Astra forget whatever sharp remark she was about to throw back.

She pulled away before Astra could recover, smirking. “A little chaos keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

Astra inhaled sharply. "Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely."

Astra hummed. “Fine. Try this—get Chimera’s cooperation with less violence, more persuasion.”

Eydis chuckled. “Now that… that could be fun. Then let me ask you a question.”

Astra gestured for her to continue.

“Does the school store student records online?”

Astra’s eyes gleamed. “No. All records are hard copies, locked in a highly secured, retina-scan restricted archive.”

“And whose retina is authorised?”

“Dean Saito and the Principal.” Astra folded her arms, watching her carefully. “Do I even want to know where this is going?”

Eydis's voice dropped low. “Leverage.”

“What leverage?”

“The kind that ensures no violence,” Eydis murmured, her lips ghosting just beside Astra’s ear. “Just persuasion. And you know, Astra, how persuasive I can be.”

Astra tensed.

“But…” Eydis’s lips barely grazed the curve of Astra’s neck. “Since I’m being so well-behaved…” Her voice turned teasing. “I expect a reward.”

Astra swallowed, goosebumps trailing in the wake of Eydis’s breath.

“And yet,” she murmured, forcing composure into her voice, “somehow, that sounds much more dangerous.”

Eydis’s smile was pure indulgence. “Only if you resist.”

“It doesn’t sound like we’re still talking about Chimera,” Astra whispered.

“Oh? Perceptive, aren’t you?”

Astra reached forward, gripping Eydis’s collar, and yanked her close into a kiss: swift, sharp, stealing the last word right from Eydis’s lips.

Astra pulled back just enough to say, “Consider that a down payment.”

Genuine laughter spilled from Eydis, vibrating against Astra’s skin.

“Just the first room,” Adam said quietly.

Eydis blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. They walked in silence behind Adam through the hallways of Primrose Dormitory. He came to a stop, took a quiet breath, then opened the door without a word.

The scent hit instantly.

Not sweat or laundry detergent or anything else you’d expect from a teenage boy’s room. It wasn’t musty, either. It was fresh.

Unnaturally fresh.

Astra froze, one leather boot hovering just above the threshold.

The air carried a scent of damp earth, like the forest after rainfall. Sure, the room was cluttered with houseplants, all different kinds. The sort Astra usually appreciated; Eydis caught the quick spark of interest in her eyes. Trailing plants covered nearly every surface, including the windowsills, the shelves, and even the tops of books and notebooks.

But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what caused the smell.

Because at the center of the room stood a willow tree.

Not a potted plant. Not a bonsai.

An actual, miniature tree. 

Its roots disappeared into the carpet as if it had grown there naturally. The trunk was slender, and its branches reached up through the overhead light, scattering the glow across the walls in shifting shapes.

She spotted a desk off to the side, partly buried beneath a wave of green. It looked unused, but a single framed photo sat on it, perfectly centered.

Adam and Elias, younger, smiling in their soccer uniforms, arms casually thrown around each other. Back then, Adam had been the taller one. Now, he was barely taller than her. Elias, on the other hand…

She lifted her gaze, following the line of the tree trunk upward. Perhaps just as tall as this.

Fascinating.

“Well,” Eydis murmured, lips curving in faint delight. “Isn’t this… unexpected.”

Astra simply turned to Adam. “This is your secret?”

Adam scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight. “Uh. Yeah.”

Eydis stepped closer to the tree, her fingers brushing the bark with idle interest.

The tree jerked. Not violently, but enough for the branches to twitch and the leaves to rustle, like it was trying very hard not to react.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Her lips curved. “I’m torn, Adam.”

Adam blinked. “About what?”

“Between drawing this out for my own amusement or…” Eydis’s amber eyes sparkled with mischief. “Skipping straight to the part where you start pleading.”

“She’s going to do both,” Astra noted flatly.

“Please don’t do both,” Adam muttered.

Astra’s lips twitched. “You realise she’s enjoying this already.”

“Unfortunately,” Adam said under his breath.

“I already am.” Eydis dragged a slow circle against the bark with the tip of one nail. The tree groaned softly in response.

Adam tensed. “Don’t!” The word shot out before he could stop it.

Eydis didn’t look at him. She leaned closer, her palm pressing against the trunk.

“Tell me, dear arboreal confession booth…” she teased. “What terribly scandalous, wildly undisciplined emotion convinced you that this was the best solution?”

The willow shivered so subtly that it might have gone unnoticed, if not for the faint vibration she felt beneath her palm. The reaction might have been anger, or embarrassment, or perhaps all of it at once.

Adam shifted again, and Astra’s eyes moved to him.

Eydis turned too. “Something your furniture would prefer to keep to himself?”

Adam looked lost for a moment, then tired in a way that said he’d already had this conversation, with himself, over and over.

“It’s—” He wet his lips. “It’s complicated.”

“A willow is an intriguing choice, I must say. Resilient. Graceful in its weeping. But also…” Eydis reached up, flicked a branch. It snapped back violently. “Famously flexible.”

Adam seemed conflicted, his eyes fixed on the ground. Then, with a quiet sigh, he confessed, “It’s Elias. He’s been in the tree.”

Astra’s expression barely changed.

Eydis smiled. “How long?”

Adam frowned. “Longer than he should have.”

“Hmm.” Eydis pretended to ponder. “Do you think he’d appreciate the occasional pruning, Adam? Just a light trim. This flickering shadowplay is a bit much.”

The branches snapped upward in what could only be read as protest.

“See? He understands.” She smirked.

Adam shot forward. “Eydis—”

“Eydis, behave,” Astra said, attempting to frown through what was clearly amusement.

Eydis leaned closer to Astra. “I am behaving, I’m still waiting on my rewards.” She grinned as Astra went very still. “Besides, I haven’t even sharpened my blade yet.”

Adam groaned. “Gods, can you please let me explain before you start sharpening things?”

Eydis nodded toward the tree. “Then, by all means, explain. Why is your best friend engaged in photosynthesis?”

Adam swallowed. Hard.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re already regretting this,” Eydis said, smirking.

Adam looked very much like he was already regretting this.