The awakening of an Evolver rarely follows a set timeline. Some awaken before they even hit ten, while others don't develop their secondary traits until middle age. But according to the Empire Academy's stats, 65% of Evolvers come into their abilities between the ages of 15 and 25.
Men tend to evolve into Sentinels. Women, more often than not, become Guides. Scientists say this may trace back to the gender roles embedded in late Earth-era civilization.
Surveys show that for most Sentinels, their first experience of mind soothing usually comes from family or friends. And since newly awakened Sentinels haven't yet learned to build proper mental barriers, the Guides soothing them often get an unfiltered peek at their memories.
Because her frenzy level was skyrocketing, Vivienne Cross's mental state was crumbling fast—so bad, even her fragile mental shield was barely hanging on.
Leo Vaughn's mental tendrils slipped easily into her mindscape, unintentionally pulling in scattered fragments of her memory.
[A cramped but tidy room. A young girl carefully feeding medicine to a sickly boy, who looked older, taller, but thin to the point of frailty. His face, gaunt and pale, bore a resemblance to the girl. The boy coughed between sips of the bitter concoction, frowning, grumbling under his breath about the taste. The girl gently smoothed his messy hair, her fingers threading tenderly through his dark strands before tucking the blanket neatly around him.
Next scene, rain pouring down, muddy streets shimmering under the dim light. The same girl was dragging a young man through the downpour, hand clutched tightly in his. The young man was bundled up, face hidden behind a high collar and mask—only a pair of dazzling golden eyes visible.
Then, the cozy lounge of an airship cabin, light and music soft and mellow. The girl sat across from a bashful boy, smiling, laughing, eyes crinkling with genuine joy. ]
A soft, cracked voice pulled Ryan back to reality:
"Th-thank you."
Leo's feeble thanks snapped him out of the trance.
The soothing was over.
Leo retracted his mental touch, his eyes narrowing slightly.
It wasn't common to encounter a Sentinel so battered, so mentally shredded, that their entire past spilled out like broken glass on the floor.
Even for a pirate like him, who'd seen more than his fair share of unhinged soldiers, this was rare.
Well…
That might also have something to do with the fact that he'd only been on this job for six months.
Still, snooping through a stranger's memories wasn't something that happened every day.
"Vivienne," he called her name lazily, rolling it off his tongue. "Did Anthony hit you with a psychic attack?"
Because otherwise—how the hell was her mindscape this wrecked?
Vivienne blinked at him, recognizing the suspicion in his eyes. Technically, no, Anthony hadn't ripped her to shreds. She did that to herself. Her mental state had always been a ticking time bomb; she could self-destruct on a good day if her frenzy level spiked. But of course, she wasn't about to say that out loud.
Especially not when that psychopath with the scarred face had, in fact, not only shredded her mental tendrils but also physically kicked her when she was down.
Let him carry the blame. She wasn't complaining.
Vivienne's lips curved in a weary, sweet smile. "I'm not sure why, but that gentleman seemed particularly hostile toward me…"
Leo let out a sharp snort, clearly not buying the "gentleman" label.
"He's pissed because the Guide he was into dumped him—for a black-haired, black-eyed Sentinel who looks a hell of a lot like you."
Ah.
Classic.
Vivienne internally rolled her eyes.
Of course it was about a woman.
Isn't it always?
She looked up, meeting Leo's gaze just as he was subtly sizing her up.
Her sweat-damp hair clung to her pale cheeks, her lips slowly regaining color. The fragile, relieved expression on her face made her look even more devastatingly beautiful.
Leo scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. "You're really weak, you know that?"
Vivienne: "…" You're really annoying, you know that?
Her trademark "I'm gentle and grateful" smile almost slipped, but years of survival instinct kept it intact.
She let out a soft sigh. "That's why I'm grateful you helped me out earlier, Mr. Vaughn ."
She glanced at him, deliberately lowering her eyes in feigned embarrassment.
"I heard Mr. Anthony call you… Leo ,Vaughn?"
Vivienne's voice lingered deliberately on his name, slow and careful, each syllable crisp like she was testing the sound of it. There was a hint of hesitation in her tone, like she wasn't sure if she had the right to say it out loud.
Leo let out a nonchalant hum, completely at ease, the kind of man who knew exactly who he was—even in front of a captive. "He kicked you and you're still calling him 'Mister'? That's awfully polite of you."
Vivienne almost choked on her own breath.
Listen, buddy, I've spent half my life playing the 'gentle and well-mannered' card. Let me work.
She softened her tone, playing into his banter: "Force of habit, I guess. I didn't mean to."
Then, as if remembering something, she glanced back at him, her voice lowering apologetically. "You saved me, and Anthony seemed really angry about it. I'm sorry if I caused you trouble."
Leo cut her off, voice sharp as a blade: "Don't bother. We're both pirates."
Meaning—we're all bastards here, sweetheart. No good guys in sight.
Vivienne's smile didn't falter. She knew better than to push it.
"In that case," she said lightly, "please accept it as a simple thank-you from a Sentinel to her Guide."
She met his gaze, eyes sincere, voice soft but clear: "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn."
Even though Leo Vaughn privately thought this Sentinel was a stubborn little idiot,
he couldn't deny one thing —
It's hard to throw punches at someone who's looking at you with a smile.
That rule had proven itself true more times than he cared to admit.
And, well…
There was also the undeniable fact that Vivienne Cross had a face pleasant enough to look at — infuriatingly so.
Plus, after catching glimpses of her past during the brief touch of his mental tendrils,
she wasn't a complete stranger anymore.
More like… a chaotic mess he'd accidentally gotten acquainted with.
So when the fragile, troublemaking Sentinel turned her wide, open gaze toward him —
genuine, reckless, almost disarmingly sincere —
Leo thought to himself:
She's got decent manners.
I suppose I don't mind lending her a hand.
Just this once.
"Stay in your room tonight," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll bring you something for the injuries."
Vivienne obediently nodded, lips curving up politely.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Vivienne glanced around the room. Standard guest quarters.
Good. Not a storage closet.
Small victories.
Her thoughts wandered back to Leo Vaughn —
all casual arrogance, that careless way he carried himself.
She'd heard Scarface call him "Second Young Master."
Figures.
Boys like him could afford to act like the whole galaxy owed them something.
And judging by that attitude, maybe it did.
But…
That didn't mean she couldn't use it.
Her entire survival right now?
Hanging by the thread of whether she could stay under Scarface's radar —
and Leo Vaughn was that thread.
Vivienne inhaled deeply, mentally slapping her own cheeks.
Come on, sweetheart.
Your mother didn't bless you with this face for nothing.
You were born to hustle your way out of shit like this.
Time to work your magic.
Flirt with him.
Make it count.