Jesper nearly ran off the Van Eck porch the next morning. He by no means wanted to be there, but he had a financial obligation. Jesper may have been a shitty person, but he'd still like to keep good on his promises. Besides, some part of him still secretly hoped he could resolve whatever happened between him and Wylan so they could just go on with their lives.

As he contemplated jumping the fence into the neighbor's yard and running away, a servant opened the front door for him. Jesper thanked them kindly and found his way up to the study. His nerves were on a vindictive tizzy today, begging him to pay attention to his materialki powers. They always got jittery when he was nervous. He would never understand why anyone would call them a "gift".

He stepped into the study, and an immediate pang of worry hit him. Wylan wasn't at his usual table. Jesper found his way over to the piano, and there was still no sign of the mercher's boy. In fact, Wylan wasn't even in the room. He began to panic, walking in circles, trying to figure out if it was a trap. Wylan was smart. He could have purposely left Jesper waiting here while he pulled his dad away from the office to interrogate Jesper.

"Are you looking for Master Van Eck?" A woman called from the hall.

Jesper nearly jumped. He grabbed onto the table to keep himself up and he gave her a shaky smile. "Yes, actually. Do you know where he is?"

"I believe he's still in his room. Do you want me to show you there?"

So this wasn't a trap. Jesper nodded and followed the woman out into the hall. She led him further into the house, a place somehow more depressing than the rest of the damn mansion. It didn't need sheets of dust for Jesper to know the portraits were old and the decorations were often left untouched. This was not a home. It was a museum of capitalistic misery.

The maid stopped at the end of the hall and knocked on the white door to her right.

"You have a visitor," she called out. The woman turned to Jesper, nodded with a smile, and left.

There was no looking back from here. He slowly opened the door and stepped into the little Van Eck's room. Wylan sat in the corner upon a bed made up of silk sheets and woolen throw blankets. He was in the middle of a flute performance when Jesper walked in. He stopped abruptly, shoving the flute behind his pillow.

"What are you doing here?"

"No hello for your favorite fake tutor?" Jesper asked. "As far as I'm aware, I still have lessons with you. You know, saying you haven't..."

"No." Wylan tried to look angry, but instead he just looked tired. He pulled his legs up from the floor, sitting cross legged on the bed. "I should have. You could go to prison for forging documents like that, Jesper. Saying that's even your real name."

"This may surprise you, but my name is also Wylan Van Eck. What a coincidence, eh?"

No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, Wylan couldn't help but smile at the dumb joke. It made Jesper feel slightly better, like maybe he didn't ruin everything. He let himself lean against the door.

"So I'll take it you're actually named Jesper," Wylan said. "Is Fahey your real name, too?"

"Look, I didn't want everything to be a lie," Jesper said with a sigh. "And I did go to Ketterdam University for a bit — not for music, mind you — and I left on my own accord."

"And what accord is that?"

"What? Like you can't piece it together yourself, Detective Van Eck?"

Wylan sighed and hid his face in his hands. He was doing this to guilt trip Jesper, he just knew it. But no, Jesper was going to stand his ground. He stayed where he was, watching Wylan look absolutely miserable.

But why? Why was Wylan doing this when he could easily get Jesper fired? Jesper couldn't help it; he let the question slip out. Wylan looked up, a look that meant he must have predicted Jesper's question.

"I don't know," Wylan said. "Maybe because I don't want to bother my father anymore than I already do? Maybe I'm sick of having to impress new tutors and start all over again once they get sick of me. It's not their fault I'm broken."

It was like a switch flipped in the kid's head. He looked over at Jesper and all that sorrow was replaced with cold anger. That look was strangely familiar, and it sent a chill down Jesper's spine.

"No matter how many professionals my father gets, I still end up broken, and as dumb as the day I was born. He's gotten doctors and professors and yet none of them stay. So maybe I want something permanent for a change. Is that really too much to ask for? Just a couple months without harassment from my father because I can't keep a tutor more than two weeks at a time anymore. Is that really so difficult?"

Neither of them could look at each other; Jesper felt too guilty to say anything. Wasn't this what Jesper wanted? To learn Wylan's secret? Well, here it was now, not-so-gracefully handed to him on the world's most dangerous silver platter. They both knew what their secrets could do if they went out to the public. It was a stalemate, and yet neither of them wanted to claim defeat.

Despite he gut objecting, Jesper glanced back over at Wylan. Whatever etiquette and restrain he showed in the study was gone. Wylan sat hunched over his bed, staring out the window at the birds on his sill. He had never looked smaller than he did now. Jesper had only known him a week, and yet... Call him crazy, but he didn't want to leave him. No yet, at least. Not until Wylan was better.

He watched the weary look on Wylan's face as it turned into something calculated. Wylan sat up and brushed out the creases in his shirt.

"Look," Wylan said. "You don't want to be fired and honestly, I don't want to get in trouble with my father again unless I have to. So I'm willing to make a deal."

"I never saw you as a gambling man," Jesper retorted. "Are you sure you can trust me? How do you know I won't cheat you out of this deal?"

A flicker of worry leapt through Wylan's eyes; it was there and then gone in a flash before he said, "I don't. But I know you need this job and pushing my buttons is only going to decrease your chances of being paid every week."

"Touché." This was not how Jesper was expecting his day to go, but he wasn't complaining. He was honestly very curious what the mercher's boy would want. "So what is this deal?"

"I want to leave the house."

"You seemed perfectly capable of that yesterday when you ruined my date."

"So it was a date?"

This took Jesper back. He tried several times to think of a clever comeback, but nothing came to mind. Was it weird that he enjoyed Wylan's taunting? He tried to look suave leaning against the wall, but he was sure there was a stupid grin on his face.

"Why would you care?" Jesper finally asked.

Wylan's cheeks turned red as he looked away. "I don't. I just didn't know he was your type."

"He's not, actually," Jesper said with a shrug. "Never date an artist, no matter how attractive they might be."

That seemed to pique Wylan's interest. He turned back around to look at Jesper questioning it. "And why's that?"

"They're all either too conceited to respect you or hate themselves too much to not obsess over you. Trust me, I've learned that lesson the hard way."

Jesper may have been seeing things, but Wylan seemed a little disappointed, like he didn't enjoy the fact that Jesper insulted his people. Not that Jesper could blame him. If anyone tried to convince him that tall, bisexual Zemini men weren't their thing, he'd be a little disappointed, too.

"I didn't mean to ruin your date." Wylan said. "I snuck out to see you at the university. I wanted to make sure you were actually a student because by then I had a hunch, but—"

"You know, that started so romantic until you began to self-diagnose yourself as a stalker."

"Do you want me to call for my father?"

"No, I'll shut up."

"Long story short," Wylan continued, "I manage to sneak out once every two months or so, but I keep almost getting caught. But I also can't live like this anymore. I feel like a ghost in my own house."

"Is this some weird way of asking me to run away with you?" Jesper asked. "Because as fun as that sounds—"

"No, I'm not planning to run away. I just need help convincing my father to let me get out of the house once in a while."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, maybe tell him there's a music class you can sneak me into, or something like that. The more complicated and confusing, the better. He'll listen to you."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because he'll do anything to get rid of his illiterate son!"

So that was it then. Wylan couldn't read. The boy who's math and music abilities were far beyond anything Jesper had ever seen was losing tutors over something as simple as that. To be fair, Jesper couldn't imagine a life without being able to read, but he knew Wylan, even if it was just for a couple of days. The kid wasn't the type to give up unless he had to.

"Fine," Jesper said. "I'll talk to your dad, but you have to keep your end of the bargain, too. If even a word about my university degree gets out, you'll never set a foot outside of your room again. And I'll make sure of that. Got it?"

Wylan nodded solemnly. He stood up and walked towards Jesper. The kid may have been short, but strangely enough, Jesper felt like it was the mercher's son who was doing all of the intimidation.

Wylan held out a hand.

"The deal's the deal."

There was something very stress reducing about trying to get away with property damage. On one hand, it was Jesper's way of scamming the rich and on the other, it was minute enough that he could get away with it.

Jesper spent a full minute throwing sharp rocks at Wylan's window until the mercher boy gave in. His window creaked open and a tired and angry Wylan popped his head out.

"Are you trying to get in trouble?" Wylan shout-whispered from the second floor.

"Come down here!" Jesper called back. "I need to talk to you."

"It's the middle of the night. Can it not wait until morning?"

"If that's what you want." Jesper shoved his hands in his pockets and turned on his heel. He walked slowly, knowing Wylan's curiosity would eventually get the best of him. "Good night!"

"Jesper! Come back!"

And there it was. Jesper turned back around and headed towards Wylan's window.

"Just give me a second, okay?" Wylan said before closing the window.

Jesper took the long way back to the front of the house. He popped a ripe apple off its stem from the fruit garden besides the mansion, and quietly ate it. There's nothing quite like the first bite of a freshly grown fruit. He managed to finish it before Wylan got out the front door. The kid was still in his pajamas, a blue silk robe tied tightly across his waist.

"This better be worth it," Wylan grumbled.

Instead of answering, Jesper grabbed Wylan by the wrist and pulled him onto the sidewalk. Wylan complained as Jesper dragged him further into the city, but Jesper refused to say a thing. He was terrible at secrets, but as long as they kept moving, he'd have a better chance of keeping his trap shut.

"Seriously, where are we going?" Wylan asked.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, we're almost there."

"Where is 'there'? Where are we?"

Jesper still refused to answer. Usually he'd take the shortcuts towards West Stave, but that wouldn't give Wylan to true Ketterdam experience. It wasn't a full tour of the town unless he wasn't accidentally and/or purposefully harassed by someone on a busy street.

"Jesper?" Wylan called out. "JESPER!"

Wylan yanked himself out of Jesper's grip, forcing them both to a stop in the middle of the street. Jesper turned to look at Wylan, who was obviously not pleased at where they were. He pulled his robe tight to his body, nervously looking around.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Wylan asked, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment. "I get that what I said was wrong but Saints, you didn't have to drag me out—"

"Shh, shut up or else you're gonna miss it."

"What are you—"

Jesper squared Wylan's shoulders and tipped the boy's head up just a bit. "Look."

The sky erupted into beautiful white and gold flame. The lights danced about the sky, singing a shrill song before quickly dying out again. Over and over the fireworks went on. There were nine gold flashes in total, one for every week left until the fall harvest. It was a dangerous reminder of why he was here in the first place.

As the light show was wrapping up, Jesper stole a glance down as his student. The light somehow made Wylan look even younger as he stared awestruck up at the sky. It almost made knowing the boy worth it just for that one look.

Unfortunately, the world kept moving on once the fireworks were gone. People pushed past the boys, threatening to separate them. Jesper held tight to Wylan's arm, leading him towards an empty alleyway.

"Was that what you wanted to show me?" Wylan asked.

"Yes and no. I wanted you to see Ketterdam for what it really was, and you can only get that at night. You get glowing signs and cheerful color, but it still can't mask the odor of the city. This place may seem nice — may seem normal — but you can't trust it. You can't trust anyone here, really."

"Not even you?"

"What part of forging a fake college degree makes me seem trustworthy?" Jesper shook his head. "Just promise me that if I let you go out into the real world you won't fall for the tricks. Watch all the flashy light shows, but do it from far away because if you get too close... Well, you'll just burn with it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Wylan gave a small nod, his lips pursed solemnly. It wasn't the perfect promise, but it made what Jesper was going to say next easier.

"I managed to talk to your dad, and we managed to strike up a deal," Jesper explained. "You can go with me to the Music Hall in Ketterdam University all day on Fridays."

"Wait, you already talked to him?" Wylan asked, looking incredulous. "When? How?"

"Earlier today. It's doesn't matter," Jesper said as he waved it off. "You've got three conditions you have to meet, though. One: you're gonna have to make up the study hours you miss."

"Easy."

"Two: I have to babysit you, so nothing super illegal otherwise I'll get blamed for it. And three: No one's allowed to know you're a Van Eck."

Wylan folded his arms. "My father's rules, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah, your Da's a bit of an ass if you can pardon my language."

"Pardon accepted," Wylan said with a snort.

"But lucky for you, I've got the perfect identity. If anyone asks, you're an old friend of mine from University named Wylan Merchling."

"I'm not going by that," said Wylan. "That's like going by 'Farmling' or 'Conniving Criminal-ling'."

"Too late," Jesper held out a fake paper pass. It was supposedly a student ID with Wylan's new full name on it. Of course, Jesper had to guess the boy's birthday and height, but he was sure he wasn't too far off.

Wylan eyed the card suspiciously before pocketing it in his robe. "Fine, you win this time."

"That's the spirit, Merchling." He held out his arm like the polite gentlemen he was, and led Wylan down the street. "You get semi-permanent freedom in a handful of days. What do you think you're gonna do first?"

"I don't—"

Wylan immediately stopped moving. In the West Stave, pausing usually wasn't good. With a flick of his wrist, Jesper's pearl crested pistol was already in his hand. He looked around for any suspicious persons in the area, but found nothing too alarming. He glanced over at Wylan, who just stared mouth agape in front of him. When Jesper looked over, he suddenly realized what caught Wylan's attention.

It was the Lizabeta Music Hall and Opera. Jesper had never been in there before personally, and he wasn't planning to anytime soon. Personally, he preferred a show with a little bit of violence and/or pretty guys and girls. Music halls just never had that. Musicians claim to enjoy their work, and yet they either looked somber or depressed when they play. Jesper could hardly stand a minute of that, let alone three hours of painstakingly boring music.

"We should see a show," Wylan said. "On Friday."

"I'm not sure this is the best theater for that," said Jesper awkwardly. "Unless you want stage bats swooping over your head while the sopranos sing."

"Well, what about the Kerch Opera, then?"

"Wylan, I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but I don't exactly have that kind of money."

"That's fine. I'll buy the tickets." He let go of Jesper's arm and began searching through his robe pockets. Eventually Wylan pulled out a wad of cash as thick as his arm.

"Saints, Wy, you can't just keep that kind of money on you," Jesper said, shoving the money back into Wylan's chest. "That's how you get swindled."

"Would it be enough, though?"

"Saints, probably," Jesper said hastily. "Hell, it might just buy more than just two tickets if we play our cards right."

"Then take it." Wylan pushed it back towards Jesper. "Whatever you don't spend, keep it. It's the least I can do."

With the money in Jesper's hands, he could actually count it. He had no clue how much orchestra tickets were, but this would certainly be enough money.

"I don't know what to say," Jesper said.

"'Thank you' is easy enough," Wylan said. "So, what do you think?"

Jesper smiled. "I think it's a date."