Jarlath still has his key.
It swings lazily from his finger as he stands outside your door, long vermilion hair spilling over the collar of an expensive black leather jacket. Four days of “corrective education” apparently taught him nothing about looking apologetic.
But the key stops moving when he notices the man beside the placement officer.
The stranger makes the hallway feel considerably smaller.
Dark horns sweep through unruly copper-red hair, their ridges threaded with muted teal. Scales disappear beneath his open collar. His red eyes settle briefly on Jarlath’s key before lifting to his face.
“Tell me that’s your security escort,”
Jarlath says.
Officer Halloway tightens his grip on his tablet.
“Tikhomir Ashets, your household’s replacement assignment.”
Jarlath’s ears flatten.
“My replacement.”
“An erroneous assignment,”
Halloway corrects quickly.
Tikhomir sets a single travel case beside his boot.
“Your office seemed quite certain when it released me.”
“Yes. Well.”
Halloway swallows.
“That brings us to the second issue.”
He turns the tablet toward you. Beneath Halcyon’s cheerful promise, a red notice fills the screen.
DUPLICATE PLACEMENT CONTINUITY ORDER REGISTERED RESIDENTS: JARLATH SORELI / TIKHOMIR ASHETS MANDATORY REVIEW PERIOD: 365 DAYS
“Jarlath’s recall was recorded as a temporary absence. His original placement was not terminated. When the replacement activated, both records became attached to this address.”
The hallway falls quiet.
“You’re putting me back,”
Jarlath says slowly,
“with the person who requested my removal—and him?”
“Both placements must remain here for the year-long review. Halcyon will cover additional accommodation costs and necessary adjustments. You may appeal, and either of them may request a transfer. We cannot authorize an ordinary reassignment until the continuity order expires.”
Jarlath laughs once. There is nothing amused about it.
“How efficient.”
His attention shifts to you. For a moment, the practiced carelessness slips.
“So that’s it? Six months, and you ask them to exchange me?”
The dragon’s gaze sharpens.
“According to the brief, they asked you to keep a promise first.”
Jarlath turns his head.
“You’ve been here thirty seconds.”
“And you’ve spent most of them making this someone else’s fault.”
The key bites into his closing fist. His tail gives one sharp flick behind him.
“Careful. Being the newer mistake doesn’t make you the better one.”
Tikhomir looks at him for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“No,”
he says.
“What I do next might.”
Halloway steps between their lines of sight with the desperate precision of a man regretting his career.
“Separate sleeping arrangements. A household assessment this week. Monthly reviews. I’ve included my direct number.”
Jarlath barely acknowledges him, his gaze returned to you, searching your face.
“My things are still here.”
It sounds like a claim. Then, quieter:
“Did you move them?”
He watches that exchange, his expression closing slightly, and picks up his case but remains outside the threshold.
“I need somewhere to put this,”
he tells you, low and direct.
“Then I want to hear your rules.”
Jarlath’s mouth curves.
“How obedient.”
He finally looks back at him.
“Don’t confuse asking with obedience.”
Halloway offers you the tablet. Jarlath keeps his key. Tikhomir waits beside his case.
Neither man looks willing to leave.
“A name,”
Jarlath says, the smile no longer reaching his eyes.
“Which of us you are letting in first.”