6. Interrogation

Char tried not to panic.

He was sitting in a dimly lit room, with Marin—his no-nonsense, knife-sharp enforcer—watching him like a hawk, and Callen—his smirking, ever-scheming rogue—leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

Waiting for his answer.

Callen had asked a simple question: Who the hell are you?

And Char had about five seconds to come up with something believable.

He wet his lips, forcing his brain into overdrive. He had built this world from the ground up, crafted its history, mapped out its politics, scribbled down every bit of lore until the pages blurred together. Surely, he could spin a story convincing enough to keep them from getting suspicious.

His heart pounded. Okay. Think. Who would you be, if you were actually from this world?

He inhaled and sat up straighter, trying to look less like a guy who had literally fallen into his own story.

"My name's… Char," he said, wincing immediately. Damn it, could you be less creative? He rushed to cover himself. "Short for Charon."

Callen raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. Marin's expression remained unreadable.

Char powered through. "I'm from… the southern regions" The words slipped out before he could stop them. He remembered that area of lands, with places like the Jaffalex mountain range and Jaffalex Forest, both named after the same man. Most importantly, it was a place where a nobody could exist without raising too many questions. "I—uh, I used to work with a transport crew. Running supplies between districts. Nothing big."

He tried to keep his voice even, casual, like he wasn't spinning a backstory out of thin air. Stick to what you know. There, transporters work under contracts. Play into that.

"But," he continued, shifting slightly, "business dried up. The guy I worked for got caught skimming credits, and the whole crew got blacklisted. I've been… moving around since then."

That was good, right? Believable?

He risked a glance at Marin. She was watching him like she was dissecting his every word, analyzing the spaces between them.

Then he looked at Callen, who was still leaning against the doorframe, tilting his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Char felt his stomach drop.

They don't believe me.

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then Callen snorted.

"Well, that was tragic," he said, shaking his head. "Tragic and convenient."

Char's mouth went dry. "What?"

"Your sob story." Callen pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps forward, his sharp grin never slipping. "You get tossed out of work, blacklisted, and somehow you just stumble into the Phoenix, drop unconscious at our feet, and now you're here? That's a hell of a coincidence."

Char fought the urge to shrink under his gaze. "Maybe I'm just unlucky."

"Or maybe you're too lucky," Callen mused. "People like you? People who 'just move around'? They don't tend to last long in Oryn-Vel. And yet, here you are." He tapped his chin, mock thoughtful. "You're either hiding something, or you've got someone watching your back."

Char stiffened. He couldn't argue without making things worse.

Callen grinned wider, sensing the hesitation. "So, which is it, Charon?"

Marin sighed, rubbing her temples. "Callen, stop interrogating him."

"Interrogating?" Callen looked genuinely offended. "I'm just having a conversation."

"You're poking him like he's a caged animal."

"I'm testing him," Callen corrected. "And to be fair, he's not doing great so far."

Marin shot him a glare. "And what, you think if you stare at him hard enough, the truth will magically spill out?"

"It usually does."

"Well, it's not working now."

"I don't know," Callen said, still watching Char. "He hasn't actually denied anything yet."

Char's pulse thundered.

They are so much sharper in person. On paper, he had written Marin as cautious, pragmatic. Callen as reckless but perceptive. It was easy when they were just words. But now—standing in the same room as them, being interrogated by them—he realized just how dangerous they really were.

He had to get control of this.

"I get it," Char said, exhaling slowly. "You don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either." He ran a hand through his hair, making himself look just tired enough. "But I don't have some secret agenda. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I just need to get my bearings before I figure out my next move."

Marin's gaze flickered over him, as if weighing the sincerity in his voice. Then, finally, she sighed.

"Fine," she said, standing up. "If you were working transport, then you should know the standard inspection protocol for an Oryn-Vel border checkpoint."

Char almost choked. Seriously?

Callen grinned. "Oh, this'll be fun."

Char clenched his fists, willing his brain to work. Inspection protocol… That was in his notes somewhere, but had he ever actually written it out? Did he make it a detailed system or just a vague background element?

"Uh—depends on the checkpoint," Char said, stalling. "The southern gate follows a different procedure than the main ones."

Marin gave him a look that said You're not getting out of this.

Crap.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to think.

Oryn-Vel. Border checkpoints. What makes sense?

Then it hit him.

"The main checkpoints use magical facial scanning," he said, grasping at the details he had half-planned but never fully written. "Full clearance checks for any high-priority cargo." He hesitated. "But the southern gate… they don't have the same tech. So, inspections are more physical—manual searches, cargo reports, and tracking codes on shipments to prevent smuggling."

Marin's gaze didn't waver.

For a second, Char thought she was about to call his bluff.

Then she exhaled through her nose, glancing at Callen. "He's right."

Callen shrugged. "Lucky guess."

Char resisted the urge to sag in relief. Thank god I actually thought that through.

Marin turned back to him. "If you're lying about anything," she said, "I'll know."

Char nodded. "Understood."

She watched him for another second, then—apparently satisfied—moved toward the door. "Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

She stepped past Callen, who lingered a moment longer, studying Char like he was still trying to pick him apart.

Then he grinned. "Welcome to Oryn-Vel, Charon."

And with that, he followed Marin out, leaving Char alone.

As soon as the door shut, Char let out a shaky breath.

Holy shit.

He had barely pulled that off. His heart was still hammering, his mind racing through every detail of his story, every fact he needed to keep straight.

But for now, at least, he had bought himself time.

Now he just had to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next.