Chapter 30: Oh, The Misery

Tarren's workshop bore little resemblance to the place it had been just days ago. The once-cozy space had been transformed into a makeshift lab, cluttered with scattered blueprints, half-finished prototypes, and discarded tools. His furniture had been shoved haphazardly to the edges of the room, leaving the center dominated by his latest project.

A long tube stretched across the room, its sleek design marred only by the crude pillow fortress at one end. One device, bristling with intricate mechanisms and glowing faintly from the embedded crystal, anchored the opposite side.

Tarren crouched next to the custom device, tools in hand, muttering under his breath as he fine-tuned the delicate mechanisms. At the other end, Caitlyn adjusted the pillow fortress with a sigh.

"I didn't come here to play assistant, let alone build a pillow fort," Caitlyn grumbled, tying one last knot on the makeshift barrier.

"You're the one bothering me," Tarren replied without looking up. "Might as well make yourself useful."

"Jayce wouldn't have made me do this," she countered, crossing her arms.

"Well, I'm not Jayce," Tarren said flatly.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, plopping into a nearby chair and watching him work. For a moment, she considered pressing him further, but something about his expression stopped her. He looked focused, but there was an unmistakable shadow of frustration hanging over him—a gloom that clung to him as persistently as the oil stains on his gloves.

The hum of the device drew her attention back to the tube. Tarren had stepped back to the console, fingers dancing over the controls. The crystal at the core of the device flared to life, glowing brightly for an instant before sputtering out with a dull hiss.

Tarren cursed under his breath, the sharp sound of his tools clattering onto the floor breaking the silence. He returned to the device, crouching beside it and prying open a panel with barely restrained irritation.

"What's with you?" Caitlyn asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"What do you mean?" Tarren muttered, not looking up.

"Jayce said you'd work on a project for days on end without any frustration on your face. You don't seem like you're enjoying this."

"That's because I'm not," Tarren replied tersely, his hands busy inside the device.

"Why not?" Caitlyn pressed. "This is your chance to shine, isn't it? You're working on something groundbreaking."

Tarren hesitated, his fingers pausing over the machinery. "Because this research isn't what I want to do," he said finally. "It's useful, sure, but it's not what I'm passionate about."

"Ah, I see," Caitlyn said with a smirk. "You're sulking because the academy rejected your other ideas."

Tarren scoffed. "Har har. It's not just that. I just… I don't see the point of this. If Jayce were here, he'd probably jump at the chance to work on something like this, and I could focus on what really matters to me."

"And what does matter to you?" Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow. "Weapons of mass destruction?"

"It's not about the weapons," Tarren said with a sigh. "It's… complicated. You wouldn't get it."

"You could always ask my mother for help," Caitlyn offered. "I don't usually like getting involved in these things, but you look miserable."

Tarren let out a humorless laugh. "As tempting as that is, Viktor was right. I can't afford to make enemies topside, at least while I'm still this young. Gangs from the Undercity are one thing, but going up against noble families and merchants? That's a different game entirely."

"You say that like gangs aren't dangerous," Caitlyn said, narrowing her eyes.

"They're not," Tarren replied simply. "It's a herd mentality. Individually, they feel weak and unimportant, so they group up."

"And noble families don't?"

"The difference is that gangs hate each other," Tarren said, leaning back against the tube. "Influential families may hate each other too, but if someone like me tries to shake up their world, they'll band together to crush me. It's not just power—it's wealth, influence, connections. It's a fight I can't win."

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying him. "You sound like you've given this a lot of thought."

"I have to," Tarren said simply. "I've seen what happens when someone tries to disrupt the status quo. It doesn't end well. At least with gangs, it's straightforward. Violence is their language, and I know how to speak it."

"And you think you could take on a gang by yourself?" Caitlyn asked skeptically.

"Not a gang," Tarren said with a shrug. "But I spent my childhood fighting street thugs twice my size."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

"You asked," Tarren replied with a smirk.

For a while, the room was quiet again, save for the faint hum of the device as Tarren fiddled with it. Caitlyn sat back in her chair, letting her gaze drift toward the window. From her vantage point, she could just make out the shadowy outlines of the Undercity in the distance.

"What's it like there?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "Growing up, I heard it was a horrendous place."

"Parts of it are," Tarren replied without looking up. "Stick to the nicer spots, though, and sometimes it feels better than the topside. Of course, I might be biased."

"If you think it's better, why are you here?" Caitlyn asked, tilting her head.

"Because I'm chasing a dream," Tarren said simply.

"That's… not what I thought you'd say," Caitlyn murmured, her curiosity piqued. "And that dream is?"

"I had two," Tarren said, leaning back and rubbing his temple. "One of them seems to have solved itself in the worst way possible. The other? I want to build anything I've ever dreamed of."

He gestured vaguely toward the tube dominating the room. "It's close, yet it feels so far away. If I can just stabilize the crystal, my life could be… content, I guess. All I need is that lab."

"Oh, the misery," Caitlyn deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "Poor Tarren didn't get his fancy lab."

"Don't you have some violin lesson or high-society tea party to go to?" Tarren shot back, glaring at her over his shoulder. "You're starting to get annoying, Miss Caitlyn."

"You tell me," Caitlyn countered with a smirk. "You're the one stuck in the academy."

"Very funny," Tarren muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever," Caitlyn said, leaning forward again. "But in all seriousness, Jayce said you're a genius. I'm sure you'll get… whatever it is you're dreaming of building."

Tarren chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "I'm no genius," he said quietly. "I'm just a guy with a lot of information."

"What's the difference?" Caitlyn asked with a shrug.

Tarren's laugh was bitter this time. "Trust me. It's a big difference."