SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 526: A Surprise Message

Like every other person there, Trafalgar attended the celebration.

Music blared everywhere, clamor filled the air, voices overlapped in chaos, and pupils from all three years crammed the space with that wild post-finals energy that bursts out only after exams end. Laughter flowed naturally in such a setting. Relief did as well. For nearly everyone, this night was precisely as it ought to be.

To Trafalgar's slight astonishment, fewer individuals came up to him than he'd anticipated.

This arrangement pleased him just fine.

He showed up because Xavier had pushed for it, since the rest were attending, and turning it down would have seemed odder than just appearing. Yet if he could pass the evening without constant crowds every few minutes, he had zero gripes.

That said, if he admitted the truth to himself, he wasn't relishing it quite as much as he'd imagined.

Back during his Earth university years, an event like this would have seemed effortless. Finals over, heading out with buddies, racket that demanded nothing but for him to immerse in it briefly. Now, after all he'd endured here, it failed to hit the same spot within. He could linger amid the festivities, grasp why others reveled, but still sense a detachment, like some part of him had lost the knack for diving into uncomplicated joys without first scanning escape routes.

Bartholomew stood next to him, providing its own form of amusement right then.

Three girls had clustered around him somehow, chattering in turn with the eager spark of those who'd just spotted a fresh name on the leaderboards and craved details on its owner. Bartholomew appeared ready to battle another beast rather than endure the upcoming chat onslaught.

Cynthia and Zafira had wandered off elsewhere, looking plenty at ease by themselves. Xavier hovered by the bar, grabbing a drink, likely with way too much swagger for a newcomer.

Trafalgar observed Barth weathering yet another query and finally felt compassion for him.

"Want to head outside for a moment, Barth?" he suggested. "Grab some fresh air."

Bartholomew snapped his gaze up at once, like a man hearing salvation in a tongue he revered.

"Y-yes," he replied. "Let’s go."

Trafalgar made no effort to hide it. He tossed the girls a quick apology, pushed by them, and Bartholomew trailed after with relief so blatant it bordered on harsh.

The outdoor air hit cooler and purer, though far from deserted.

Many had already poured out from the venue for identical reasons. Groups of students clustered here and there, some lounged against walls, others chatted beneath the lamps clutching drinks, savoring the evening as much as the hall inside. The surrounding city buzzed with life, wide avenues teeming with motion and glowing lamps, the entire area crafted for nights such as this.

Trafalgar peered forward where the throng eased thinner along the way.

"Care to stroll a short distance?" he proposed. "To a quieter spot. We’ll return later."

Bartholomew bobbed his head fast. "Yes. Let’s. And... thanks."

Trafalgar tilted his head a touch. "For what?"

Bartholomew flushed with embarrassment right away. "Those girls boxing me in—I had no clue how to handle it. They bombarded me with questions..."

Trafalgar nearly grinned.

"Didn't you mention lately wanting to chat up a girl?" he teased. "That was your shot, Barth."

Bartholomew almost sputtered at the thought.

"I-I don’t know," he mumbled. "They only approached after spotting my ranking in the exam. They were shocked to see my name."

Trafalgar tucked his hands into his coat pockets while they strolled.

"It simply shows you're gaining fame."

Bartholomew reddened further and stayed silent.

Together they pressed on down the street. Crowds thronged the night—not just Academy kids but townsfolk too—and the city thrummed with the vibe of a hub primed for crowds, revelry, and dragging the darkness into dawn. Tunes wafted from deeper along the boulevard. Street vendors dotted sections, wafting scents of warmth, fumes, grilled meats, sugary pastries, and bold flavors.

One stall snagged Trafalgar's notice above the rest.

A steaming dish sizzled there, its aroma potent enough to halt him instinctively.

He eyed Bartholomew. "Want to grab one?"

Barth's hesitation screamed the response before he voiced it.

Thus Trafalgar advanced without letting him agonize over the words.

The stall owner, a broad-shouldered lycan with pale whitish hair and sharp features suggesting his wolfish nature despite full humanoid form, swiftly wrapped warm bread around spiced meat and handed it to the next buyer.

"Two, please," Trafalgar said.

The lycan stated the price. "Two bronze coins."

Instead, Trafalgar offered a silver coin. "Keep the change."

The vendor blinked in surprise, clearly unprepared for it, and hesitated briefly before quickly adding two more meat-stuffed buns to the wrapper and presenting them with both hands.

"Please take these too," he said. "It feels like too much otherwise."

Trafalgar took them without causing any hassle.

As Trafalgar moved away, the lycan dipped his head slightly. "Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy them."

Trafalgar came back to Bartholomew with four buns total and passed two to him.

Barth gawked. "You didn’t have to do that, Trafalgar."

"Take them before they get cold," Trafalgar said. "I know you wanted one. You just didn’t want to say it."

Bartholomew seemed busted.

Trafalgar munched on casually, as if it was natural. "We’re friends, Barth. If I’m offering you something, you can be honest with me."

This prompted Bartholomew to bow his head slightly in shame before accepting them for real.

"Then... I’ll take them. Thank you."

They kept strolling, both now eating, in a quieter stretch of street they'd wandered into.

Moments later, Trafalgar spoke up again, his tone lighter.

"So? Out of those three girls, was there really not even one you liked?"

Bartholomew nearly fumbled his bun.

"N-no..."

He couldn't finish his words.

A figure blocked their path, near enough to halt them but not aggressively.

Another lycan stood there.

Unlike the vendor, this one wore neat attire, held a rigid posture, kept a composed face—clearly arrived with intent, not just passing by.

His gaze locked straight on Trafalgar.

"Trafalgar du Morgain," he said. "I have an important message for you. Please take this."

He extended a sealed letter.

Trafalgar furrowed his brow lightly, more surprised than worried. Bartholomew had already edged back a step, the abrupt stop and the man's stern vibe setting him on alert.

Before grasping the letter, Trafalgar questioned, "From whom?"

The lycan's eyes glanced quickly at Bartholomew. He grasped at once that voicing the name wasn't wise here, not with a fellow student so close to catch every syllable. Thus, he drew closer and dropped his voice.

"It comes from Patriarch Darian du Thal’zar," he whispered. "Your messenger has already delivered the formal notice. There is also an important matter that must be addressed in that meeting."

Everything shifted in that instant.

Trafalgar seized the letter right away.

The lycan bowed deeply with clear deference and stepped away without another word. He melted back into the street fast, not staying a moment extra.

Bartholomew held off until the man vanished before asking.

"He-he left?" he asked. "Are you alright, Trafalgar?"

Trafalgar tucked the letter into his coat.

"Yeah," he said. "Don’t worry. Everything’s fine."

Bartholomew nodded, true to character, refusing to push. Curiosity flickered evidently, but he honored Trafalgar's space enough to let it lie.

Trafalgar valued that.

Still, the idea had already taken hold in his thoughts.

’Something happened on Darian’s side if he’s calling it important.’

The timing made it plain. No simple nudge. No mere politeness. A change had brewed.

’Good thing I already told Caelum to reserve a meeting for me with him. I wanted to see his progress anyway.’ Trafalgar’s gaze rose momentarily to the bustling city ahead. ’And now I’ll hear whatever he needs to say in person.’

Yet another decision struck swiftly.

’I’ll have to postpone going out with Zafira to see Augusto. Darian comes first.’

The night hadn't even fully begun, yet it twisted toward a new path.

That development, at least, rang far more true than the party.