Chapter 15: The Fallout of Norwegick
The scholarship rejection still burned. A 305 out of 400, and yet—nothing. No offer. No way out. Norwegick's corruption mocked me. Merit meant nothing here. Fine. I'd carve my own way out, and the town would bleed for it.
The hum buzzed in my chest, low and eager, like a storm ready to break. Mom's sleeping form on the couch, lit by the gray dawn through cracked blinds, was a soft, fragile contrast. Her peace wasn't mine. Not anymore. Dad's notebook, hidden in my jacket, whispered truths—Liriwick, Marcus, the pact.
"Time to clean some laundry," I muttered, smirking. The hum purred, sharp and wicked, like it had been waiting for this.
I spent half the day at my rickety desk, hunched over cheap paper, crafting anonymous letters. Each was a dagger dipped in ink—exposing secrets, cutting through Norwegick's rot. The police chief's deals with dealers. Shopkeepers hiding profits. Dr. Carter and Anna—their affair, their secret kid. I'd gathered it all, piece by piece, from alley whispers, careless texts, and forgotten café conversations.
First, the small fry. A letter under the precinct door, naming dirty officers and shady payoffs. Another slipped into a grocer's ledger, revealing cooked books. The hum sang louder with each drop, a melody of piano and chains—my Silent Noise conducting the chaos.
By noon, Norwegick stirred. Officers shouted behind closed doors. Shopkeepers muttered, eyes darting. Whispers of "traitor," "snitch," "leak" floated through the streets. Cracks were forming, and I'd barely begun.
Next: Dr. Carter.
I dressed for war—black hoodie, fake glasses, blonde curls tucked under a cap. Outside his house, a kid played with a scuffed soccer ball. "Hey," I called, flipping him a coin and handing over an envelope. "For the lady in that house. Say nothing, alright?" He nodded, grinning, and ran off.
I lingered in the shadows. Minutes passed. Then—
Screams. Sharp, furious. Mrs. Carter's voice slicing through the neighborhood like broken glass. Doors opened. Neighbors stared. Dr. Carter stumbled out, face pale, car door slamming as he sped away. I leaned against a lamppost, smirking.
"Told you, Doc," I whispered. "The Female King keeps her promises."
But this wasn't the finale. The governor was next—bigger fish, bigger fire. I'd overheard whispers at a diner—money laundering, offshore accounts, "charity" funds funneled into hidden pockets. Tomorrow's press conference—live-streamed, crowded—was perfect. I'd deliver the blow in front of everyone.
That evening, I sifted through stolen bank records, hacked files from the library, and coded notes from Dad's journal. Not airtight—but enough to ignite suspicion. My fingers trembled as I typed the anonymous tip, attaching documents and naming names.
The hum roared with pride, almost like Dad's voice: Be strong, my female king.
I hit send. "Burn, Norwegick," I muttered, an evil chuckle slipping out. The screen glowed. Message sent. The storm was officially coming.
Night had fallen, unnoticed. Shit—Mom would flip. I grabbed my knife, slipped through alleys, and climbed the oak tree outside my window. Its bark was familiar, like an old friend. I eased the window open, slipped in, and changed fast, hoodie tossed into a dark corner.
I lay in bed, heart racing.
"Tomorrow's gonna be a good day," I murmured to the ceiling, smirking.
The hum softened, a lullaby of chaos. But sleep wouldn't come easy. My dreams were always Liriwick—Dad's scream, the masked man's sneer, the Silent Noise on loop. Norwegick was just rehearsal. Edenville was the real battlefield.
And I'd be ready.