A Quiet Life Denied
Chapter 44 - 43: Between Teacups and Ashes

Chapter 44: Chapter 43: Between Teacups and Ashes

Franz’s POV

Smoke curled off my shoulders like it couldn’t decide whether to cling or let go.

My boots crunched over broken tile... and bone.

The front hallway was a ruin of corpses. Suits—some still twitching, some folded backward like paper dolls someone got bored of. Bullet casings. Shattered glass. A thick, dragging streak of blood where someone had tried—and failed—to crawl away.

I walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, like my body still hadn’t realized it had survived.

And in my arms, her.

Victoria.

Unconscious. Unmoving. Face pale beneath the soot and blood. One of her earrings was gone. Her hair clung to her cheek in damp strands. Her breath—if it was there—was too quiet to hear.

I walked out of the fire.

The building groaned behind me, coughing flame and smoke. Somewhere overhead, a support beam gave in with a splintering crack and took half the second floor with it. The fire didn’t roar so much as breathe—loud, desperate, alive. Hungry.

Outside—

I saw them.

Celeste.

Zane. Iris. Emphera. Lena.

They stood just beyond the scorched stone courtyard like someone had pressed pause on them. Staring. Not speaking. Not even blinking.

Their faces told the story better than words.

I must’ve looked like a monster.

Covered in blood.

Carrying a body.

Dragging a trail of smoke and ash behind me like a damn warning label.

Celeste broke first. Her boots skidded on gravel as she sprinted toward me.

Then Zane moved. The others followed like the slack had been cut on their strings.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t speak.

<Quiet Life System: Don’t you die on me now.>

[Arcadia]: She’s not even part of the quest... why would you risk it, you dumb fuck?

I didn’t answer.

I looked down at her face one more time.

The firelight caught the curve of her jaw. Her lashes were wet, clumped. Her lips were parted just enough to look like she might be dreaming.

She looked so much like her.

My knee buckled.

The weight slipped from my arms.

And then—

I collapsed.

...

...

A Few Days Ago – Late Night

Franz stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, shirtless, hair tousled like a bird’s nest that had seen better days, eyes unreadable.

He looked like a villain from an old martial arts movie.

But right now?

He was brushing his teeth.

Slow, methodical strokes. Foam built at the corners of his mouth like it had nowhere else to go.

<You brushing your teeth at 2 a.m. now?>

Franz spat, rinsed, then grabbed a towel and wiped his face dry with all the enthusiasm of someone being audited.

"Healthy teeth," he muttered. "Important for a quiet life."

[Well said.]

<Switch up of your personalities is crazy, Are we in a shounen slice-of-life now? Is this where you join the literature club next?>

"Bite me."

The moonlight spilled across the wood floor, slanting through the blinds like prison bars. A glass of water stood untouched on the nightstand. The couch still carried faint indentations from the others who’d been there hours ago.

Quiet now.

Too quiet.

Franz sat near the window, pulling out the flute.

The cold silver rested against his lips. Breath steady. Fingers precise.

Notes filled the room, soft and lonely.

< You do remember the aptitude test is tomorrow morning, right? First day of class? The one you skipped orientation for?>

Franz exhaled into the next note. "It’s called an aptitude test for a reason. Either you have it or you don’t."

<Did this happen in the novel too?>

Franz nodded slightly, adjusting his grip.

"Yeah." His breath hitched on the next note. "Sort of. In the book, the Elliot mess was still unfolding. The four of them missed the test, and the Dean gave them a second chance."

[Arcadia: And the test itself?]

Franz scoffed. "Wasn’t all written. Half academic, half obstacle course, half weird social trap. Real creative. Classic ’make the protagonist look cool’ setup."

<It’s mostly there to have wow movement in the novel then.>

"Pretty much."

<Just a reminder—you’re not just babysitting squad anymore. You’re responsible for the entire class, which will be transported to another world.>

He stopped playing.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Really feeling the love tonight."

<Relax. The first part is basically slice-of-life anyway. School hijinks. Awkward lunches. No mass murder... unless you do one.>

Franz leaned back, letting the chair balance on two legs. He stared at the ceiling like it might leak.

"Good," he said. "I could use some peace and flute practice."

The systems went quiet.

He played again. Something simple. Something that sounded like memory. The melody was clumsy in places, but real.

For a moment, he just sat there. In the dark. In the quiet.

Victoria’s POV —

The house was quiet.

Not the kind of silence that felt cold or lonely—but the kind that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. A rare peace.

Victoria sat on the edge of Celeste’s bed, her tea cooling in her hands. Her daughter lay beside her, nestled under a familiar quilt, hair fanned across the pillow like ink.

The girl had finally fallen asleep.

Victoria brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, careful not to wake her.

Even now, even after everything, she looked so young like this.

So... innocent.

How long would that last?

The thought made her chest tighten.

"Do you remember," she whispered, even though Celeste couldn’t hear her, "when you were five and you scraped your knee chasing fireflies? You cried like the sky had fallen."

She smiled faintly. "You didn’t want a bandage. You wanted a payback."

Celeste stirred.

Victoria stilled, thinking she’d woken her. But her breathing remained soft and slow.

Good.

She looked around the room. The posters Celeste used to collect were still up—slightly faded, slightly crooked. A necklace she never wore hung from a mirror. There was something beautiful about it. How little things could stay the same, even when the world cracked beneath them.

"I’ll protect you," Victoria whispered, so quietly the words almost vanished into the air. Her fingers trembled around the teacup.

"From everything. From anything. Even if the danger is a monster... covered in human blood."

Her hand clenched slightly, knuckles whitening.

She remembered the fire. The smell of gunpowder and iron. And that figure stepping out—carrying her like she weighed nothing.

The look in his eyes...

She closed hers.

She knew she owed him her life.

But she can’t trust him

Whatever he was—whatever he had done—Even if to save them.

It was inhuman.

She gently placed the teacup on the nightstand, then leaned down and kissed her daughter’s forehead.

"Good night, my little firefly."

A quiet voice murmured beneath the covers. "Mom?"

Victoria blinked. "Yes, sweetheart?"

Celeste opened her eyes slightly. "Are you okay?"

A pause.

Then a smile bloomed across Victoria’s lips.

"I am now," she whispered, brushing her fingers through her hair again.

Celeste shifted under the covers, reaching out a hand. "Can you stay here? Just for a bit."

"Of course."

Victoria slid under the blanket beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Celeste buried her face against her shoulder, still half-asleep.

"You smell like tea," she mumbled.

Victoria laughed softly. "And you smell like shampoo you didn’t wash out properly."

"I was tired," Celeste said, already drifting off again.

"I know."

They lay like that for a long time. Safe. Together.

Outside, the night pressed softly against the windows. Still. Waiting.

But for now, the storm hadn’t come.

Not yet.

...

....

.....

Morning

Sunlight crawled through the blinds like a guilty man sneaking home after curfew.

Franz opened one eye. His neck hurt. His back hurt more. He was pretty sure the chair had conspired with gravity to ruin his spine.

He reached for the bottle on the windowsill. Sipped. Winced. Flat water. From yesterday. Probably.

He opened the drawer, grabbed a cigarette, stuck it between his lips.

Then—

pfft.

The tip disintegrated into ash. It exploded against his face like confetti at a very judgmental intervention.

Franz stared at the ceiling.

"You sons of bitches."

Ding.

<New Quest Available – "Being Healthy">

[Quest Objective: 301 Push-ups, 301 Pull-ups, 31 KM Run][Reward: One Bottle of Healthy Whiskey][Penalty: No Cigarettes Until Completion]

<Don’t blame us. Just trying to keep you healthy.>

[Be strong. Your quiet life depends on it.]

Franz exhaled slowly. He dropped the cigarette remains into the trash like they’d personally betrayed him.

"I don’t have a problem with exercise," he muttered. "But why do you fuckers have to waste perfectly good cigs?"

[ You still have time before college starts. ]

<Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a test. But today... today is for push-ups. Hustle, boy >

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A/NThanks for reading the Chapter!What do you think of the story and characters so far? If you have any feedback—good or bad—about the writing, pacing, or anything else, I’d love to hear it.Comments honestly keep me motivated. They remind me that this story matters to someone out there, and that means the world to me.So if you’re enjoying it (or even if you’re not), let me know.

You’re the reason I keep going.

XOXO