Chapter 88

Laughter. A lot of it. His hand released, Arthur staggered back, even as Head Attendant Ibrahim, Master of the First Floor stared up at the fading clan name and could not help but shake his head ruefully.

“Benevolent Durians?” Ibrahim said. “That is . . . new. And unusual. I must ask, for my own curiosity. Why name it that?”

“Yeah, boss. I’m not sure I wanna be called a durian,” Yao Jing said.

“Why not? The King of Fruits and utterly delicious—if you have the taste for it,” Arthur said. “And if not, well, repellent enough to drive away those who aren’t right anyway. An acquired taste, much like me. Also, hard bodied and spiky, powerfully protective for those seeds it contains within.”

Yao Jing sniffed. “I . . . whatever. It’s just a name, right?” 

He still sounded dubious, but with Boss Choi having been kicked out, Arthur had no time to deal with the man’s concerns. He had friends to care for. 

“I need to finish this,” Arthur said. “The building for the sect: where do I, how do I, designate it?”

Ibrahim’s hand rose and flicked to life a map of the beginner village. “You don’t mind that we do this part publicly, no? After all, your clan hall will be public.”

Arthur shook his head. The wireframe diagram of the beginner village hovered above him. A half dozen buildings glowed orange. There were scattered throughout the village, about four of them near the center of the village. Two of them were right next to the administrative building itself.

“Choosing here doesn’t lock me up, right? Beyond this floor that is,” Arthur said. 

Ibrahim shook his head.

There was no real difference in the buildings, all of them roughly the same size. All three floors tall, all roughly with the same design: either old-school office buildings or hotels, sporting many windows. He spun his finger around, checking them out one after the other and noted two of the closer ones were actual office buildings. The third, a motel.

His choice of clan name hadn’t taken his allies’ opinions into account, but now he considered what they wanted, what they needed. He tapped on the motel, amused by the way the entire wireframe worked. Then, he hesitated, unsure what to do.

“Pour your energy into it. Intention is enough, the Tower will do the rest,” Ibrahim said, as though he read his mind.

Arthur followed his instructions, hands raised as he poured energy into the wireframe construct. He watched as the orange glow deepened, then solidified. A moment later, he felt something snap together, connecting his building—and it was his now—to his seal and something deeper. It felt part of him, a connection that ran through his entire body but also out of it.

His soul perhaps, or whatever it was that connected him to the Tower and that provided his status. Arthur could not say for sure, but he felt the connection, the same way he could feel where his status was, whenever he wanted to bring it forth.

A moment later, that connection stabilised entirely. He got his second notification of the day, after the Tower had prompted him to name his clan. This one was longer, more detailed, and he knew, as the wireframe disappeared from above him, that no one else but him saw it.

On top of that selection, Arthur could feel additional choices waiting for him. He debated answering no, but considering what he intended for his residence, the enemies he had made, the option seemed pretty clear to him. Selecting a security bonus, Arthur’s eyes widened.

“That’s . . . surprising,” Arthur muttered.

“What?” Yao Jing asked.

“We got a Tower guard assigned to our building. No one’s going to be bursting in anytime soon. Not without becoming a misting,” Arthur said. The rhyme didn’t work, but it got the idea across. 

He wondered if that meant that all first-floor guards would be alerted if things went bad. That would be amazing. Even if they didn’t, a single guard was more than sufficient. They were a little overpowered for their floors after all.

Shaking his head, ignoring the implications for now, he let the other notifications that had been waiting pop up. All the while looking at Ibrahim, who was in turn watching with a little amused smile on his face.

“Hey, can I ask a question?”

“Of course, Clan Head Chua.”

Arthur hesitated at the new form of address before pushing it aside. Not the time. “How do I add people to my clan?”

“You need only inform the Tower. The same way you did before, with the naming of your clan.” 

Nodding at Ibrahim, Arthur considered asking if he needed to be in proximity to would-be clan members, but chose instead to simply try it out. Better to learn by doing than rely on the head attendant. After all, the man was stupidly powerful. No need to act dumber in front of him than Arthur needed to.

Yao Jing, standing before him, was a good first option. Yet, he hesitated. If there was someone who needed and deserved this, it was Mel. To his surprise, he felt the Tower answer him, a new notification superseding the previous ones that were on their way.

Arthur blinked, staring at the information. Then he grinned. Creepy and Orwellian as the damn Tower might be, sometimes it worked in his favour. In this case, pulling information from his mind.

Approval flowed through his mind and up the link to the Tower. He felt the Tower’s confirmation, and even more strangely, a connection that reached outward from himself—three connections. It gave him no information, but feeling those connections was itself enough to make him shiver.

“Ei, what’s wrong?” Yao Jing said.

Eyes tracking over to the man, Arthur hesitated. He knew nothing about the other. Had no idea if he could kick him out, how much information he would give away by making him a clan member. Adding him to the clan could be extremely foolish.

But there had to be ways to remove someone from a clan. And though paranoia said that Yao Jing could be a plant, a spy . . . paranoia was just that. Irrational fear. Logically, it would have taken a level of planning and chance that defied even a Bond villain to put the man where he was.

Which meant that he might just be what he looked. A mercenary looking for a way up. An opportunistic individual. And . . .

“Don’t get the wrong idea, ya,” Yao Jing said, eyes narrowing a little. “I don’t swing that way, okay. Nothing wrong with that, of course.” He gestured quickly, intent on not getting into trouble. The number of gays and other individuals indulging in “alternate lifestyles” in the Tower were well known to be at a higher percentage than outside, where they were still prosecuted by the Malaysian government. “. . . But that’s just not for me. Yah?” Yao Jing finished.

“Not that, you idiot.” Sometimes, you just had to take a leap of faith. And if not, well, there really wasn’t much that was going to be revealed that wouldn’t be. Eventually. “Here,” Arthur said.

And with that, a fourth—fifth, if he counted himself—member was added to the Benevolent Durians clan.