Yurui The Cursed One

The dorm lounge is more crowded than it’s been in a long while. Eight people have tightly crammed themselves into a loose circle. Marcus and Narun have claimed one end of the battered couch, while Maya stands nearby with her arms folded across her chest. The rest have scattered themselves wherever they can find room, filling the chairs or lingering along the walls.

The tension was thick enough that one could cut it with a knife.

Oba has positioned himself farther back than everyone else, close enough to technically still be part of the meeting but far enough away to make it clear he would rather not participate. A rebellion within a rebellion, you could say. His knife turns lazily between his fingers, the blade catching the overhead light every few seconds.

The conversation dwindles as the tall brown-haired man near the center of the room looks around.

“So I take it everyone is in on the plan ?”

Marcus is the first to nod, with Narun following a moment later. A few others murmur their agreement or shift forward in their seats, and before long almost everyone in the room has made their answer clear.

Everyone except Oba.

The brown-haired man notices too, his attention drifting toward the back of the room where Oba is still turning the knife between his fingers.

“Oba.” There is a note of impatience in his voice now.

Oba stays silent and keeps turning the knife.

Marcus lets out an irritated breath. “Come on, man. Don’t you flake on us now.”

That finally gets a reaction. Oba lifts his eyes from the blade, though his expression gives away absolutely nothing.

“We agreed on this already. If even one officer backs out, the whole thing falls apart,” the brown-haired man reminds him. His voice stays level, but the room has gone quiet enough that it carries across easily. “Without all of you on board, we don’t have a case. You knew that when you came in here.”

Oba doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances toward Maya, and that alone is enough to draw a few curious looks in her direction. Maya catches his eye but says nothing. Whatever history sits between the two of them, she clearly has no intention of making this decision for him. Oba’s jaw tightens. He looks around the room, taking in the faces waiting on him, then finally lets out a quiet sigh and gives a small nod.

“Fine.”

The word seems to ease some of the pressure in the room. The brown-haired man gives Oba a brief nod as Marcus slumps back against the couch. “Jesus. Was that really so hard?”

Oba resumes fiddling with the knife without answering him.

The brown-haired man waits for a moment before continuing. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow morning, we go to Uden. Don’t start getting cold feet, if we stand strong and don’t back down, the captain won’t have any choice but to cave to our demands. There will be no arguing, we’ll state our terms and remain silent, not a word more than necessary. We don’t want to let Alysa turn this into another round of bickering.”

Marcus leans forward on the couch, his forearms resting against his knees. “And what happens if Uden just tells us to deal with it ? I mean, the last time she essentially told us to beat it and gtfo from her office.”

A few people shift uneasily at that. Scheming about getting rid of Alysa behind closed doors was one thing, walking into Uden’s office and saying it to her face was something else entirely. The Captain’s fondness for her vice captain wasn’t exactly a secret, and neither was her reputation. Uden was the kind of person most people simply didn’t dare to cross. She was powerful enough to make even other captains think twice before getting on her bad side. If the squad itself hadn’t been the base of her power, defying her in the open would have bordered on suicide.

None of them had been eager to go along with this at first. Bereth had spent days talking to them one at a time, slowly wearing down objections until, somehow, nearly the entire squad had agreed to stand behind him. At this point, backing out would mean betraying your friends and leaving them to face the monster all on their own, and in a close-knit environment like this, that wasn’t an option. Bereth, of course, was very well aware of the fact and was not ashamed in the slightest to take full advantage of it. Weavers gonna have to weave with whatever silk is at hand. And weave he would, all the way to captain's position, as what he was weaving was an intricate spider web that would trap those he intended to keep close and a noose for those he needed to be rid of.

The funny thing was, half of them barely seemed to tolerate each other. Put Marcus and Oba in the same room for long enough, and somebody was bound to get seriously injured if not outright murdered. Johan openly called half his squad braindead brutes and, on more than one occasion, suggested they be institutionalized for the good of society. But after enough missions where your life depended on the person standing beside you, petty grudges had a way of disappearing into a wayside. They could argue and bicker all they wanted afterward, but when one of them was in trouble, the others showed up. Maybe that was why Bereth had managed to get them this far in the first place. None of them wanted to be the one who walked away and abandoned their squad while everyone else put their neck on the line.

Not that any of them were doing something illegal or that they weren’t allowed to do. They were employees, not prisoners. If they wanted to resign, nobody could legally stop them. Uden herself was the part that made that reassurance considerably less comforting. Legal rights were nice and all, but so was having a pulse, and the woman they were planning to confront could probably kill everyone in this room before half of them made it to the door.

No wonder nobody looked especially eager to be part of the ultimatum.

The brown-haired man scratches at his jaw before answering. “Then we make it clear this isn’t just another complaint.”

Marcus frowns. “Meaning?”

“Meaning if she refuses to do anything, this time we actually go through with it and walk.”

For a moment, nobody says a word.

Narun is the first to break the silence. “You mean we are actually going to resign?” He asks in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” The man glances around the room, no longer bothering to soften his approach. “If Uden realizes we’re serious enough to walk away over this, she’ll have to hear us out. However, I would be lying if I told you it’s without risks, we are dealing with the monster, after all.”

That answer drew a few mutters, followed by uneasy looks around the room. Until now, most of this had been nothing more than idle chatter. Tomorrow, though, they would actually have to stand in front of Uden and follow through with it. Judging by the way everyone had suddenly gone quieter, that realization was starting to sink in.

The brown-haired man seemed to notice the shift as well, so he made it a point to put on a confident bravado. He folded his arms and gave the room a measured look. As long as nobody folds, we’ll be fine. The brown-haired man thinks to himself as he tugs at his beard. It’s not going to be a walk in the park, but with proper maneuvering, we’ll get the ball rolling.

Marcus rubs a hand across his mouth. “Fuck, we are really doing this.”

“Yeah,” a woman in sweats replies. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders, with two small buns tied high on both sides of her head.

Another silence follows, though this one feels different. Nobody is waiting for someone else to speak so much as doing the math in their own head.

Narun eventually leans back against the couch and exhales. “We already came to an agreement. No point backing out now just because it might get ugly.”

Marcus glances at him, then toward Maya before looking back at the others. “Fuck yeah, whatever may come, we’ll see it through to the end.”

A few others murmur their agreement, though with noticeably less enthusiasm than before. Oba remains silent through all of it, his attention fixed on the knife turning between his fingers. He’d already given them one reluctant answer tonight, and from the looks of it, they weren’t getting another.

The brown-haired man notices, but after a moment he seems to think better of pressing him again. For now, Oba’s earlier agreement would have to suffice.

Bereth coughs once to draw attention.

“It’s settled then, come tomorrow morning, we march straight to Captain Uden's office and state our demands.“

Every head in the room nods in unison.