Chapter 135: Misunderstanding
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The same day, a few hours earlier, Dawn House had worn its usual morning face.
It looked calm from the outside. Tall gates. Clean stone. A courtyard that smelled faintly of trimmed grass and expensive soap. Servants moved with practiced quiet, the kind of quiet that existed when a house had rules and the rules had teeth.
Inside, however, the calm was fake.
Because Bat Bat was learning.
And Bat Bat treated learning the way a cat treated a bath.
Elena had claimed a small side room near the inner corridor, one of the brighter ones with a wide window and a long table. She had arranged ink, paper, and a neat stack of beginner letter sheets as if she were preparing for war. A teapot sat nearby. Two cups. A third cup that was there purely out of optimism.
Bat Bat sat on the table instead of the chair, because chairs were apparently for people who believed in consequences. She wore her small human form today. Her wings were tucked in, but they twitched whenever Elena spoke, like her body was trying to escape through the air.
Elena’s voice stayed calm.
"Write the first line again."
Bat Bat squinted at the paper as if the letters were personal enemies.
"I already do," she complained.
Elena did not blink.
"You wrote something that looks like a dying spider."
Bat Bat leaned forward, offended on behalf of dying spiders everywhere.
"Spiders is artistic," Bat Bat declared.
Elena dipped the pen again, placed it gently into Bat Bat’s hand, and adjusted her fingers as if she were teaching a child how to hold a spoon rather than a weapon.
"Straight line," Elena said. "Gentle curve. You do not need to stab the paper."
Bat Bat glared at the paper.
The paper did not apologize.
Bat Bat sighed dramatically, the sigh of a creature who had been burdened with intelligence against her will. Then she lowered the pen and tried again, tongue peeking out slightly in concentration.
A few strokes later, she lifted the paper with pride.
"There," she said.
Elena looked.
The letter was technically present. It was also shaped like it had been punched in the stomach.
Elena nodded anyway, because Elena understood a simple truth about raising monsters into something civilized.
You praised effort, or you raised a bigger monster.
"Better," Elena said.
Bat Bat beamed.
"Bat Bat is genius," Bat Bat announced.
Elena’s lips twitched. It was not a smile, but it was dangerously close.
"Genius," Elena agreed, "but still illiterate."
Bat Bat’s smile faltered.
Then she tried to rescue her pride with logic.
"Master is illiterate too," Bat Bat said confidently.
Elena’s eyes sharpened.
Bat Bat froze mid-breath.
Then she added quickly, in the tone of someone trying to fix a sinking boat by yelling at the water.
"I mean, master read many things. Master is big genius. Master just... does not like letters. Like Bat Bat."
Elena stared at her.
Bat Bat stared back with wide, innocent eyes that clearly belonged to someone who had survived by being cute and chaotic.
Elena exhaled slowly and pointed at the page again.
"Continue."
Bat Bat groaned in despair.
That was when the front hall stirred.
Not with panic. Not with danger. With the soft ripple of someone important entering the house without announcing themselves loudly, because they did not need to.
A servant hurried past the open doorway, then another. A small wave of movement that carried whispered words like wind.
"Miss Lily is here."
Elena’s pen paused.
Bat Bat’s ears lifted instantly.
"Lily," Bat Bat whispered like someone had just spoken the name of a legendary villain.
Elena set the pen down and rose smoothly.
Before she could reach the doorway, the doorframe filled with bright presence and expensive confidence.
Lily stepped in.
She wore the kind of outfit that looked casual only to people who had never been poor. Light fabric. Fine stitching. Jewelry minimal but sharp. Her hair was arranged as if even her strands had been raised to obey orders. She smiled when she saw Elena, but the smile carried a question behind it.
Then her eyes fell on Bat Bat.
Lily’s expression shifted.
Her smile widened.
"Oh," Lily said softly. "There you are."
Bat Bat puffed up immediately.
"Yes," Bat Bat said proudly. "Bat Bat is here. Bat Bat is studying."
Lily looked at the paper on the table.
She leaned in.
She read the letter.
Her eyes watered, not from emotion, but from the experience.
"That is... beautiful," Lily said politely, the way someone praised a child’s drawing of a horse that looked like a potato with legs.
Bat Bat nodded, accepting praise like tribute.
"Bat Bat is genius," she repeated.
Elena folded her hands neatly.
"Young miss," Elena said, respectful but unbowed. "What brings you here in the morning."
Lily’s smile softened a fraction, then sharpened again.
"Sekhmet," she said. "Where is he."
Elena’s expression did not change.
"He is out, young miss."
Lily’s eyebrows rose.
"Out where."
Elena remained calm.
"He did not announce it to the household."
Lily looked toward the hallway, then back at Elena.
"Do not tell me you do not know," Lily said.
Bat Bat raised one finger like a scholar ready to contribute.
"Elena knows," Bat Bat announced happily. "Master talk to Elena. Elena is boss."
Elena’s gaze slid sideways toward Bat Bat.
Bat Bat instantly lowered the finger and pretended she had never spoken.
Lily stepped closer to Elena, voice quieter.
"Elena," she said, "I came to meet him. I was hoping he would accompany me into the market. He has been locking himself in work like a man who thinks rest is a crime. I do not like it."
Elena studied Lily’s face for a moment.
Then she answered, because Elena had raised Sekhmet, and Elena knew Lily well enough to know when she was teasing and when she was worried.
"He went to the Contract Market," Elena said.
Lily froze.
The air in the room changed slightly, like someone had opened a window in winter.