CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33- LOAN TAKING

The silence in the bank’s polished marble lobby was first broken by the banker.

He adjusted the squared black frames on the bridge of his nose and leaned slightly forward from behind his neatly organized counter.

"If I heard it right... Mr... um—"

The hesitation was slight, but clear enough for Kaidren to notice. The man didn’t know his name.

"Kaidren," he supplied flatly, his tone plain and unbothered, as if stating something as inconsequential as the weather.

The banker gave a small nod at the confirmation. "Right. If Mr. Kaidren truly wishes to take a loan of fifteen million AUR..."

Kaidren, being asked directly, simply gave a small, deliberate nod. His reply came in a quiet, almost casual murmur.

"Yes. You heard it right. I’ll take on a loan of fifteen million AUR."

The man’s professional smile faded just slightly into a more serious expression. For several long seconds, he studied Kaidren—blankly at first, then with the weight of silent calculation. When he finally spoke, his tone had shifted into something smoother, more formal.

"I see. In that case, Mr. Kaidren, I suggest you take a seat first. A loan of fifteen million AUR is no simple matter." He straightened his cuffs with a practiced gesture. "I’ll need to contact the manager of this branch personally. Such transactions must go through him directly."

He paused, glancing toward the upper floor.

"However, the manager is currently in the middle of a Pergle meeting on the second floor. If you’re fine waiting a few minutes, I’ll notify him immediately of your request."

Kaidren’s expression didn’t shift in the slightest. "That’s fine," he said, his voice as calm as still water.

The banker—buzzcut hair neat and evenly trimmed, black tuxedo sharp against the soft cream of the marble walls—nodded, a glint of approval in his squared glasses. "Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Kaidren."

He gestured toward the far end of the room, where a row of modern wooden chairs sat neatly arranged against a thick, black-tinted glass wall and the matching glass door that led outside.

"Please take a seat there while you wait."

Kaidren inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Thanks."

"Thank you as well," the banker returned smoothly, his tone remaining polished and professional. Without another word, he turned, making his way toward one of the back doors—this one carved with more intricate designs than the rest of the employee entrances. The door swung open, revealing a narrow stairwell leading upward to the second floor. The manager’s meeting was up there, and Kaidren’s request would soon be placed directly in the man’s ear.

Left alone, Kaidren walked at an unhurried pace to the indicated seating area. He lowered himself lazily into one of the wooden chairs, posture loose and unconcerned. From time to time, he crossed one leg over the other, then shifted again—movements that seemed casual but, to the occasional onlooker, created an odd impression.

For some employees and even the stationed Tier 3 guardians, the pose gave him an air that could be interpreted two entirely different ways: feminine grace, or the quiet confidence of a seasoned corporate figure. To a few bankers behind their counters, the sight was striking enough to spark murmured speculations.

Rex—the banker Kaidren had just spoken to—had gone straight to the manager’s floor. And they all knew the rule: no one was to disturb the manager during a meeting unless it was for a large request or a VIP customer.

So who exactly was this black-haired man with a posture that could belong either to a bored socialite or an unknown CEO? The thought lingered in the back of their minds as they discreetly observed him.

Kaidren, of course, was entirely unaware of their curiosity. His gaze roamed lazily around the bank, taking in the clean lines of the counters, the cool gloss of the marble, the faint reflection of the overhead lights on the tinted windows.

At the far right corner, a man in a worn jacket was hunched over an ATM, fingers moving across the keypad with deliberate care. A pair of middle-aged customers were speaking to one of the bankers, their voices kept deliberately low—but Kaidren’s enhanced senses caught the mumbled exchange easily. They were applying for Aegis savings accounts.

He didn’t particularly care. The information slid through his mind and vanished without weight. For now, his interest was only in observing—killing time in an otherwise quiet space.

His thoughts drifted. If his plan worked—if the potion he intended to offer as collateral brought him the loan he needed, and if his bet in the Kessen match paid off—what would he do with the windfall?

It wasn’t a childish fantasy. Kaidren’s mind, even in idle thought, was a precise, calculating instrument. He weighed future steps with the same detached focus he used in every other decision.

Next Monday would mark the official date of the Psyche Profiling Assessment at the Esper Studies and Training Institute, under the Psi Guardians International. He knew that with his six unlocked esper abilities, passing would be effortless if he chose to go all out. But that wasn’t his plan.

He didn’t want to stand in the spotlight with the strongest, nor in the shadows of complete obscurity. He wanted the middle ground—stronger than the average, far from the notice of the main cast or even the major supporting figures. In the balance between recognition and invisibility, peace lay hidden.

Interference from the main characters would only disturb that peace, and Kaidren had no intention of being drawn into their orbit.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he sifted through mental images of items and tools from the academy that he remembered as useful from before. Some were rare, some were expensive, but each had its role in preparation.

Still, nothing was certain. The future was always in motion, and the best plan was to be prepared to adjust.

"My best bet is to keep calculating," he murmured to himself, the words quiet enough to be mistaken for a sigh. "Make the best decisions when the time comes."

He leaned back in his chair, letting his shoulders settle into the smooth wooden frame. The hum of the air conditioning filled the room, steady and faint. Somewhere in the distance, a printer whirred briefly, then fell silent.

And so he waited, calm and unhurried, for the banker to return with the manager’s response.

_________

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The faint ticking of the wall clock was the only thing Kaidren had been paying attention to for the past... what felt like far too many minutes. The rhythmic sound was sharp in the otherwise quiet air, each tick echoing faintly off the cream-painted walls and polished floor tiles of the bank lobby.

He had been seated in one of the modern wooden chairs for long enough that the faint grain of the armrests felt memorized under his fingertips. His posture was relaxed — head tilted forward slightly, eyes downcast toward the spotless white-and-gray tiled floor beneath his shoes. The fluorescent lighting overhead gave the tiles a faint sterile glow, almost hypnotic if stared at long enough.

Kaidren wasn’t impatient. Not exactly. He was simply conserving his energy. Waiting was a skill he’d perfected a long time ago — when to breathe, when to speak, when to move. And right now, the man he needed to speak to still hadn’t returned.

Then, at last, the faint mechanical click of a latch came from afar.

From the doorway behind the counters, the same banker he had spoken to earlier — the one with the neat buzzcut and pressed black suit — emerged. His stride was brisk but composed, a faint scent of cologne trailing in the air behind him. His ID badge gleamed faintly against the lapel of his suit jacket, swaying slightly as he moved.

Kaidren lifted his gaze, his movements deliberate, unhurried. Rising from the chair, he began to walk toward the counter. His shoes gave a soft tap against the tile, echoing faintly in the quiet lobby.

The banker — Rex, if Kaidren remembered correctly — saw him coming and stopped just behind his section of the counter, his posture straight, hands resting lightly in front of him in that professional manner that seemed second nature to people in his line of work.

When Kaidren reached conversational distance, his voice was calm, almost detached.

"What happened? Can I get the loan — the fifteen million aur?"

Rex’s expression remained neutral, his voice steady and precise, each word chosen with care.

"Mr. Kaidren, given the size of your request, the final approval falls under my manager’s jurisdiction. I am not authorized to handle transactions of this magnitude myself."

Kaidren’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly — not annoyance, simply acknowledgment. He had expected this answer.

He opened his mouth to ask a follow-up, but before he could, Rex continued, his tone still perfectly measured.

"My manager has instructed that you be escorted to the building where his office is located. Matters involving such a significant amount are discussed directly between the client and the manager. I trust you understand the necessity of this procedure?"

"Understood," Kaidren replied plainly, his voice flat but not disrespectful. He’d already anticipated as much; large amounts always came with layers of protocol.

Still, there was one practical detail lingering in his mind — the timing. He recalled Rex mentioning earlier that the manager had been in the middle of a meeting.

"What time should I—"

"Fortunately for you," Rex interjected smoothly, "the manager’s Pergle conference has already concluded. If it suits you, you may speak with him right now."

There was no hesitation in Kaidren’s answer.

"Yes."

Rex gave a small, approving nod, as if mentally checking a box.

"Very well. Please wait here for a moment. I will return shortly to brief you on certain matters you must be aware of before proceeding."

"Alright."

The mutual nod that followed was brief but understood. Rex then turned to his right and began walking toward the far end of the back counter. His steps were soundless against the floor, his movements efficient.

At the far corner, he stopped before a reinforced metal door with no visible handle. From the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket, he withdrew a black keycard with a golden stripe. One smooth swipe across the scanner, a muted beep, and the door unlocked. It slid open automatically with a soft hydraulic hiss, allowing him to step inside. The door sealed shut behind him without a sound.

Kaidren leaned lightly against the edge of the counter, neither fidgeting nor visibly impatient. His thoughts remained steady — the man had said he’d be quick, and Kaidren saw no reason to doubt him.

True to expectation, it wasn’t long before movement caught his attention from the left side of the lobby. A large double door — the kind built with heavy mechanical precision — parted inward. Five Tier 3 Guardians, each in dark combat uniforms and equipped with compact rifles, stood on either side. From between them, Rex stepped through, the door sealing shut behind him with a solid metallic thud.

Seeing him, Kaidren straightened slightly and began walking toward him. They met halfway.

"What now?" Kaidren asked simply.

"You will follow me back," Rex replied, his tone as steady as before.

Kaidren gave a single nod. The two then approached the mechanical double doors.

The Guardians moved to block the way. Their presence was imposing — every one of them was easily over six feet tall, their gear immaculate, their faces concealed behind reinforced visors. One of them spoke, voice slightly muffled through the helmet.

"Banker Rex. If you do not have a letter of consent from the manager, your companion cannot pass."

Without a hint of annoyance, Rex reached into the inner pocket of his jacket once more and retrieved a folded letter, the paper shimmering faintly with a metallic gold sheen. He handed it to the nearest Guardian.

The group clustered together, reading its contents closely — their helmets almost touching in the process. After a minute of silent verification, the lead Guardian folded the letter and returned it to Rex.

"You may proceed," the Guardian said, "but first, we’ll place a watch strap on your companion."

Rex inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, then turned toward Kaidren. His words were as professional as ever, but now they carried a faint weight — the tone of someone explaining something that was non-negotiable.

"Mr. Kaidren, the Guardians will attach a watch strap to your right leg and right arm. If the device detects sudden large-scale movement, extreme muscle contraction, or any emission of Nexarion, it will release a ten-thousand-volt shock for ten seconds. That is more than enough to kill a normal human — and enough to incapacitate any esper below Tier 3."

He paused for a fraction of a second before adding, with quiet reassurance,

"The device’s detection parameters have been refined and perfected by experts. It will not mistakenly classify harmless movement as hostile action. These measures are strictly protocol."

Kaidren met his gaze evenly. His reply was unshaken.

"Fine."

He wasn’t concerned. His enhanced durability and regenerative ability could handle physical-based attacks — a thousand volts was survivable for him. It wasn’t like the Potion of Weakness, which struck at a completely different angle.

Still, the Guardians’ eyes — unseen but certainly watching — lingered on him as they prepared the straps.

And Kaidren, as always, remained calm.