Bee 🐝

The rain bothered him. It wasn't the sound or the rain itself, but rather a moment, a memory tied to the rain itself. Something that always resurfaced the moment the rain began to fall.

A bittersweet, painful memory of someone he wished was still in his life.

He often found himself wandering in the rain. His seniors would tell him not to, it was dangerous for someone like him, clumsy with a head full of air. He could trip over air and end up at the bottom of the river by the time morning arose.

But he simply couldn't help it. It might be the only way to meet him again. And, he wanted it more than anything. Even if he had to die all over again. He didn't care what it took to get there.

...

At least this time, he had brought an umbrella and worn a proper coat for the rain. He was getting smarter. He believed so, anyway.

He couldn't stop himself as he stared down at the puddles in the rain. His reflection always fascinated him, how much he looked more like his brother than himself, day by day. He had to chalk it up to the longer hair, if anything. He hadn't gotten a haircut in a while- work always got in the way, cases stretching into his personal time, assisting his juniors and his seniors, and he suddenly found he lacked the time to take care of himself. But, he found that he didn't mind- he looks like him, just older.

Well, he supposed he'd look like him no matter what. That was part of the whole "being identical twins" aspect. He'd look like him, and he would look like him.

"Gaughhh...." Kicking his foot as he huffed, his brows furrowed in frustration. What was he even doing anymore? He wasn't sure. "It's been well over 20 years. At this point, I'm on a search with no end!" He let his umbrella fall from his hands, sighing as the water soaked into his hair. It was cold. The rain was always cold.

But it felt colder than before. Like the dawn of his own delusion was finally weighing down on him. 20 years. He's spent 20 years of his life looking for someone that he wasn't even sure still existed the way he remembered them. A lot can happen in 20 years. He might not even be alive anymore.

He felt beyond frustrated. He felt a little hopeless, in all honesty.

...

He didn't remember ordering anything. So the presence of a small box on his front porch rang odd. He didn't order him, and no one sends him stuff. Not to his personal address, anyway. So what was up with this?

The water dripped from his hair, splattering onto the cardboard box. He paused a moment, then sighed loudly. Dramatic annoyance at the choices he had made. "I should go dry off before I consider touching what's inside that."

... well, what he should have done was take a shower and then dry off, but there were so many steps between then and now. He opted to ignore those steps in favor of his own curiosity. His hair curled against his shoulders, a towel covering most of the wet hair. The water soaked into his undershirt, not like he minded very much.

Holding the box in his hands, he observed it in his hands. There wasn't a sender- hell, there wasn't even a recipient on the box. It was almost like someone had dropped it off. But who? Even if, for some reason, they had sent something to his personal home instead of leaving it in his office, the agency he worked for part-time would have at least used a package system of some sort.

"It's like someone didn't want to be traced back." He turned the box in his fingers. Small and light. Nothing substantial. Nothing heavy. "And they did a good job, I'm afraid to say." Just a blank brown box. Not for long, though.

Tearing the box open, the contents confused him. A white leather notebook. A package of retro, die-cut strawberry bandages, and a note with a coffee order on it. A caramel frappuccino with extra caramel, and a crepe order on the side. Strawberry, with chocolate drizzle and vanilla wafers. Or, a Neopolitan crepe, as he used to call it when he was younger. This was all oddly... specific. But, not the first time he'd seen two of those three things. If anything, two of those three things haunted him in his present, adult life.

Picking up the white leather notebook in his fingers, he couldn't help it. Curiosity was deadly, he knew as much. It didn't stop him from opening it, however. The notebook was... interesting. A hand-written diary of sorts, with drawings accompanying the words every few pages. The drawings were of things in the writer's everyday life. Women on the street, butcher's shops, newspaper article clippings, kitchen blades. However, what really worried him were the words on each page.

In most cases, it seemed like a normal recording of their day-to-day life, talking about work, about relationships, about people they knew in their lives, about new foods they tried while outside. It wasn't just normal, it was painfully boring. But sometimes, oh, he could see it. The facade lifts, the mask slips.

I want to kill my brothers. I know they're both still alive, and it bothers me.

The mask has done far more than slip, after all. Someone was a little trigger-happy in their own personal diary. A sense of safety, in which the only one who would have known would have been them. But now, that safety was broken. Broken by a stranger they didn't even know.

Or... maybe...

His eyes fell on the other two items in the package. Strawberry bandages. A drink and snack order. His drink and snack order.

Picking up the case of strawberry bandages, he carefully opened it up. Pinching one between his two fingers, he paused a moment. It really was the same exact strawberry bandages from his childhood. The ones he used to obsess over having when he got hurt. When his twin got hurt.

He remembered how strange it was- his obsession with his twin brother. He never had it with his little sister (although, could the writer be the same person? He only had one brother, unless he was missing something crucial), only him. The smaller, weaker twin brother. Always too shy to ask for things, always too clumsy to avoid falling and getting injured, always not enough to sate that deep-seated desire for power over weak people that he always refused to confront in himself.

Sometimes- although he wasn't fully proud of it himself now that he was so much older- he'd hurt his brother on purpose. Just so he could take care of it and make it "better". At times like that, he'd use the strawberry bandages to cover the wounds. Wounds he made on purpose. He thought it was cute when he was younger, the bandage. It was shaped like a strawberry.

Well, it was still kind of cute, even 20 years later. But it made him feel bad. Not for what it was, but for the memories of what he had done to someone he loved. Perspective made all the difference.

He slipped the bandages back into the package, closing it and laying it back down in the box. His fingers scooped up the handwritten coffee order, focusing on it in silence. This one was less outwardly sinister, but again, perspective made all the difference.

He just really liked sweet things. He still does, but now he's careful not to overdo it. His twin never did, although he never realized it until years later. He always shared his drink with him; it's what a good brother would do when you can only afford something for one. It didn't do much when he refused to take no for an answer.

He thought it was because his brother was being humble. Now he knows that he most likely didn't like sweet items like caramel and chocolate.

Scratching his head, the man sighed a bit. He couldn't help himself, not when everything seemed to relate to his past. To him. But yet, some things didn't fully add up. But, too much was coincidence, and he started to believe otherwise.

Maybe it would help. It would help if he actively read the boring parts of the diary. If he could put a name to the author, he'd know. After all, his twin's name was unique. He's never met someone else with the same name.

...

No dice. He read the entire diary, back to front, front to back. There were many more violent thoughts sprinkled in throughout the course of the diary than he initially thought. But, no name, no age, no mention of gender. The author knew who they were, but it didn't make his job any easier.

What he did have, however, was places. Names of places, names of people, names of items. They all seemed to be recurring at that. If nothing else, it was a trail he could follow. But he couldn't help himself, taking notes of his own on colorful sticky notes in blue pen ink.

Yumeno Harumasa - A photographer that the author mentions. She's one of those for-hire photographers. "Karuu" - An game creator of some kind. The author mentions being close to. I looked him up, he's pretty famous actually. Miu Harumasa - The wife of Yumeno Harumasa, and some kind of mechanic? The author thinks she's extremely, extremely annoying. "Taeko" - Seems like one of the author's brothers, one of two (or more). He runs a pizza shop, apparently. Mizuki Rumes - A young lady the author seems to know. They seem to be rather close.

Fascinating, he thought. Even for a personal diary, it was so detailed. Names, places, addresses, even clippings of photos and torn quick portraits the author made with a paintbrush.

He could track each individual down, to their very routine, using nothing more than the entries in the diary. Tapping his fingers, he could only think on the information he had gathered. His eyes fell on another note of his.

The Witches’ Fantasy. A small cafe owned by a woman named Vespa Stephanie.

Some leads were better than nothing at all.

...

Ah. This cafe was lively. Lively was an understatement- this place was completely packed. A brown-haired woman behind the counter (That must have been Vespa), a group of teen aged band kids at a table in the corner, a pair of purple-haired brothers sharing the most appetizing muffins he may ever see in his entire life, a blue-haired woman drinking the most perfect blue shake he didn’t even realize existed- this place was a social heaven.

A pink-haired girl waved to him. She seemed like she knew him- “Dai! You should have told us that you’d be coming in today! You total jerk!” -But he didn’t know her.

Yet, he feigned otherwise, putting his hands in his pocket. So the author’s name was Dai? It was close. “Passed by on a whim.” He wasn’t lying, exactly. He had passed by on a whim. “Oh! Classic Dai, ever the jokester.” His impression was working. He thinks. He scanned the girl’s face- he couldn’t help himself.

Long, curly pink hair, pink lashes, brown eyes. That meant she was- “Guilty as charged, Mizuki.” The girl waved her finger playfully, as if she were teasing him. For what? He wasn’t sure of. “Well, now you’ve got to stick around! The Sad Poets department is coming soon!” The what.

He wondered how he had gotten himself in this situation, settled down at a table with a group of people he didn’t know with an identity that wasn’t his.

Sat down with his own drink, his own crepe. It wasn’t really “his”, though. It was Dai’s. He was curious though. A plain banana crepe with whipped cream and a cup of lemonade that was on the more bitter side. The lady said this was “his special”. He wasn’t even aware he had a special. Why didn’t the author write that down?

They called themselves the “Sad Poets Department”. And now, he was in it. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with this information.

What even was a “sad poet”?

Scratching his lip, he kept quiet. He listened. He listened well. They mistook him for someone- a painter nicknamed “Dai”. Dai was clearly short for something. Short for what? He wasn’t sure- although he had a hunch.

No comments about his clothes. Did the author dress similar? Or was it the contrary- he dressed in so many outfits that his own didn’t truly matter?

He placed a hand on his chin, closing his eyes. Mizuki was a fashion designer, a model. No wonder her and the author got along. Both jobs required a muse, a creative to bind with. Yumeno- she was the photographer. Of course. She looked even prettier than her portraits, her blonde hair was like the color of wheat in the golden sun. Karuu, that purple-haired developer, he kept sneaking him side glances. Did he know? Was it something more? There were so many more people at the table.

An author, a song writer, a guitarist, a cosplayer, a digital artist- there were so many people, gathered together in this one space together.

A voice startled him out of his own thoughts- “I know you’re a man of few words, but this is a new silence record! Hey, come on! You gotta tell us what A stands for!” His head snapped up, a bewildered expression overtaking his features before settling back onto his resting face. He spared no sentiment, shrugging playfully in response.

It seemed to satisfy the girl, who simply laughed in response before carrying on with the purple haired developer. Deep in conversation. Unaware. Part of him felt bad.

He couldn’t help but slip away slowly. Quietly. Unnoticed.

Maybe they mention it to the author- The real Dai. Would he feign confusion? Disbelief? Would he take it at face value? Would he let it be? He wasn’t sure.

… it had started to rain again. Raining heavy. Raining hard. And- oh, it was just his luck, wasn’t it? He had forgotten his umbrella at home. It hadn’t even occurred to him to bring it. He expected a five minute stay, but no- it was far more than minutes. It was hours. He had all but lost track of time. Again.

He scratched his lip curiously. Did he take the walk of shame? Did he wave down someone as they passed by for help? Did he go back inside? He paused a moment, his eyes falling on a man with an umbrella as he walked close to the cafe’s entrance. He paused, noting how the man’s umbrella obscured his face.

“Huh. You actually fell for it.” The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar. Crossing his arms, the investigator tilted his head. “You are?” He had an inking. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be right. The man paused a moment, before suddenly grasping onto his arm.

It had all but caught him off-guard, stumbling as the man forcefully dragged him away from the entrance of the cafe. To somewhere almost entirely lightless.

Then, they skid to a stop, the umbrella dripping water everywhere. It lifted up slightly, and for a moment, he was almost in disbelief.

They were splitting images of one another. Well- he could see some differences here and there. Light freckles where he didn’t have any. Longer pieces of hair at the bottom of his neck. Lightless eyes. Barely noticeable to someone who didn’t know what to look for.

But he knew it. He knew it well. “Don’t play stupid. You wouldn't have risked it if you weren’t sure.” The touch was featherlight as that man’s fingers lingered against his cheek. As if he were afraid that he’d dissipate before his hands.

That he would disappear right before him. He held a similar discomfort in his own chest. “Ah. So it really was you…?” His fingers twitched, and “Dai” couldn’t help but notice the small scars and how they seemed the spiral down his hand and into his arm. “Your hands are still scarred. That was from the piano string, wasn’t it?” He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, grasping a hold of the man’s lone hand in his own. He didn’t miss it- the way he flinched.

The piano string. He remembered it well. “Did it never heal? It’s been well over 20 years.” His curiosity was gruesome. He didn’t miss it, the way his hand trembled in his own. The way he eyes darted away from his own. That deathly stillness someone gets when a paralyzing fear washes over them. He remembered the piano string. It was his worst work yet.

“Are you still mad at me for that?” The question came out much more coy than he intended- it was a genuine concern, really. Yet, that man wouldn’t grace him with an answer. Instead, he pulled away for a moment, holding himself. He always did that- even as a kid. He used to do it whenever he was uncomfortable. He never said anything though. Hindsight. “Why didn’t you just tell Mizuki you weren’t me? Now she thinks you’re me.” Huh. He didn’t think of it like that.

He seemed almost. A little annoyed. It was funny to “Dai”. Then, he paused a moment. “Oh, hold on.” He remembered the manager had put his crepe into a to-go container when she had given it to him. He had planned to take it home, to try it there in the comfort of his own home, but- “Here. For you.” It wasn’t really “his” anyways.

He froze. His hands twitched again. Like he was afraid. “Dai” rolled his eyes, grabbing his wrist with his free hand, plopping the boxed crepe into his hand. “… thanks.” He spoke through gritted teeth. It wasn’t annoyance.

It was something darker.

Curiosity tore at his mind, like a beast inside his chest trying to claw its way out. Like hungry rats in a cage. “So you knew I came.” Was he walking to pick him up? Was it just coincidence?

He was still afraid of him. He recognized that subtle drift away even 20 years later. Not wanting to get too close, but not strong enough to run away either. In all his years as a private investigator, it was always an extreme or nothing.

Something like this was hard to foster. Yet, something pained him that the one who had it was his very own brother.

“You’re the one who read my diary. I figured the cafe would be the most likely place I could find you.” So it was his diary after all. He assumed as much, but it still felt nice to know he was right.

… mostly felt nice.

Scratching his chin, he thought on it for a moment. His logic was sound, he had practically lay the Witches’ Fantasy as the perfect hook and sinker trap. He was almost a little mad at himself for how easily he fell for it.

“Vespa also charged my card for the food you bought.” Oh. Well, that explains why that kind lady didn’t charge him. He didn’t realize he was picking the fee straight from someone else’s wallet. Oh well. “Huh.” That’s all he had to say?

He sounded like an asshole.

“I- I’m sorry?” He sounded confused, but he had the spirit, at least. “That lemonade was slightly bitter. Have you considered adding sugar?” The man’s face fell. Displeasure flooded his features. No, it was worse than that.

Disappointment. “Ahh, don’t look at me like that, Daishobu!” The man scratched his head nervously, shaking his head. Then, lightly, he hit the metal pole of the umbrella against “Dai’s” forehead, earning a pained whine from the older twin. “You’ve got some nerve to order on my dime and then tell me my food isn’t good enough for YOUR tastes.” Rubbing his forehead, he pouted. Someone grew a spine while he was away. He was almost proud.

Daishobu sighed, biting his finger nervously. Then, something popped into his mind. The Sad Poets Department. “What does the letter A stand for? Your sad poets kept asking me that.” He couldn’t help himself. He was a little curious himself. Such a sudden question, yet it seemed to mean something. Something to him. Something to Daishobu. “Huh? Why do you care?” “Dai” shrugged. His eyes glanced around. He had been following Daishobu without realizing it, the area seemed completely foreign to him. Where were they going?

There were lots of houses, some street lamps, even some hole-in-the-wall shops with their lights off and closed signs up. It was like a small little neighborhood. Quaint. Hours away from anything he knew. Sensing he wouldn’t get a response from his brother, the painter sighed a bit. “It’s a reference to a painting series I was doing. Paintings based on words that start with a certain letter.” So “A” stood for a word? “They made it a game to guess what a painting’s word is before I unveil it. E stood for Eternity. D stood for danger. C stood for criminal.”

He had pulled something out of one of his inner pockets, a pair of dull keys. Dull, metal keys. “Dai” looked around, curious. He couldn’t help himself. He could see something through the window. Was this his home? Or- he was a painter, perhaps his studio?

The door unlocked with a soft ‘click!’ sound, swinging open as Daishobu pushed the door open with the back of his hand. “Dai” couldn’t help himself as he wander inside, away from the dark and stormy night. A giant painting was placed in the corner of the room, a string light hanging over the top of it. It was covered in a large, white cloth. Hidden away.

He couldn’t help himself- he had this issue far, far more than he even realized. Maybe he should work on his impulse control? He wasn’t going to, but he could at least say he acknowledged that fact. He lifted the cloth by the corner, his eyes falling on a small phrase written in the corner of the painting.

“B stands for beasts.” Oh. Part of “Dai” was captivated. Like a fly in a spider’s web, he knew it was only a painful trap, yet, he climbed into the web anyways.

He didn’t miss it, the way the air seemed to shift. The sharp ‘click!’ of a button. His ears picked up on another odd sound, one he wasn’t sure of.

He could feel Daishobu’s chest against his back. He wasn’t even aware he had bent down- he was so quiet. Something glistening in the light, his eyes shifting down. A silver blade, gripped in his own twin brother’s hand.

He couldn’t help himself, watching as he lifted it up, pressing the sharp side of the blade against his throat. He could feel his own breath hitch, lumping up in his chest. Not out of fear- out of anticipation.

Out of curiosity.

It's not like he meant to disappear forever. Just till he could sort his thoughts out- to sort himself out. These feelings, these thoughts, his everything and his anything.

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He remembered the first time he visited the hospital. In fact, it was one of his earliest memories. It was the day that his baby sister was born. He remembered the way he stared through the baby through the glass, his face smushed against it as he just. stared at her in complete awe.

"She's so pink." His face lit up as he stared at her. His own little sister. Robin Aubery. "Robin is so pink, mama." She chuckled as she stroked his head, a smile on her face. "That she is, my dear Andie!" "I love Robin. Can I hold her? Please mama? Please?"

...

She was a lot heavier than he had expected. Weren't babies supposed to be light? His mother's hands lingered beneath his own as he cradled the baby in his arms. He couldn't help himself as he stared down at her. It was odd.

He expected her to cry. Didn't all babies cry? He was confused. "Why isn't she crying? Is she broken?" He didn't mean for it to come out like that. He was a dumb 4-year-old. He was just confused; all the other babies were crying when their folks held them. Oh, and they all talked about how light their babies were, how small they were. "She's big. And heavy too!" His mom's laughter filled the room, and he could have sworn the baby yawned. Could babies yawn?

"That's because you're small, Andie. You're half mama's size, remember?" "Oooohhhh." He tilted his head slightly as he looked at the baby. "So she's not broken or weird?" His mother scratched her chin as she pondered her son's question. "It is odd she isn't crying. Maybe she feels safe with you? I know she wailed when me and your father held her when she was first born." She laughed a bit at the memory, a hand softly stroking through his hair. "Huh." He paused a moment as he placed the baby back down in her glass bed. He was quiet for a while before turning to his mom with a blank expression. "I'm hungry."

He had gone down to the hospital's cafeteria a couple of times since his father brought him to the hospital. There wasn't a lot in the means of food diversity. But there was a vending machine in there, one that carried all the best chips and drinks. Mom would always say it's not real food, but she'd give him the change anyway, because it was cheaper and easier than getting someone to leave the hospital and get food from outside.

Today, though, it was different. There was another person there, a little boy around his own age, one with a blue jacket. It was pretty. It had stars on it. "Oh no... I'm missing change." Andie couldn't help himself. "How much change are you missing?" He was pretty sure he accidentally scared the little boy with the way he jumped, clutching his chest as he turned around to face him. "Oh! Sorry. I also came for the vending machine." "It's fine..."

He remembered counting the coins with the boy carefully. He was pretty sure they even counted them twice. He was missing just 5 cents for his snack. Andie rummaged his pockets, sticking his tongue out as he searched. Then, like a magician, he pulled out a spare nickel from inside his pants. "Tada!" He'd never forget the way the boy's face lit up as he plopped the nickel into his hand. His chest felt fuzzy as he smiled. "Now you can get your snack!" "Oh, thank you! You're so nice!"

That wasn't the end of it, though. A second drink came down when he got his own drink. It was some kind of lemonade. Andie remembered holding the bottle in his hand, tilting his head in confusion. Then, he held it out to the boy in the hospital. "Do you want it? It came out with my apple juice." He could remember that boy's smile so clearly. That look of joy on his face was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

It was the start of everything, now that he thought about it. He never felt that way when helping the girls in the hospital.

...

He remembered the first time his mind betrayed him too. It was like any normal day, really. The mindless talk about school, new friends, crushes, all that nonsense. Normal family filler stuff. Robin had seemed particularly embarrassed as their mother teasingly pressed her for more details about her middle school crush. She was pink in the face.

But then, their father made a comment he'd never forget. He was sure that their father didn't mean for it to come off the way it had. But it'd affect him forever.

"At least she likes boys and not girls! It's silly, but it's the way things are supposed to be."

The words stung a little, sitting heavily in Andie's chest. The way things were supposed to be... The dinner table erupted into laughter at the comment, and even Robin seemed clued into the joke. But part of Andie felt like it had died that day.

Would they have hated him if they knew? He had a crush... oh, but it was on no girl. Would they have judged him? Reprimanded him? Told him the feelings he felt, kept deep down inside his chest were... wrong?

Would he have changed with time? Had he not found the "one" his parents always spoke of? His eyes lingered on his half-eaten plate of dinner. His stomach hurt.

He didn't want to eat anymore. He wasn't hungry.

...

It never really got better with age, though. If anything, it got worse. Suddenly, it wasn't something Andie was simply confused about, but rather something that weighed down on him. Something he couldn't escape from forever.

"When are you going to get a girlfriend, Andie? You're just such a handsome little bugger, it's hard to believe you're single!"

He hated that question. That phrasing. The idea. There was something about the way their mother asked about it, as if it were just a normal fact of life. An occurrence that every boy goes through. He could smile and brush it off all he'd want, pretend it didn't bother him, pretend he simply wasn't ready for a relationship- which wasn't a lie in its entirety.

A relationship, especially the ones presented before him day in and day out, it didn't interest him. He felt no desire to be in a relationship where one partner hated the other, was disinterested in the hobbies and life of the other, actively despised and resented their partner.

He had no interest in a relationship that lacked "love". He couldn't even bring himself to "pretend" for his parents.

He was sure it was something deep inside him, something fundamental, that didn't operate the way it should have. No other boys were interested in one another- no, it was always talking about "the ladies". Which girl they'd get with if given the chance. Which lady they thought was the hottest. The baddest. The sexiest.

It made his head spin. It made him uncomfortable, feeling so singled out in a room full of young men just like himself. To be alone in a room full of people. He felt so isolated and so distant from the world right in front of him.

Was he really broken? He couldn't help but wonder about that. A boy shouldn't like another boy. A boy should like a girl. Maybe he was just being stupid. Maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough. Hard enough to be normal.

...

He also remembered the first time he got caught. Well, he means caught in the lightest sense of the word. Did they really know, or was it a joke, like everything else they said to him?

It was a boy (Andie always thought he was cute. He typically pushed the thoughts away soon after they arose, though.), one of the track meet students. Andie wasn't a part of any after-school clubs, and certainly not anything sports-related. It wasn't quite in his cards, after all.

Those hot summer days- everyone knew it. Too hot outside to do anything, yet there was always that one person who insisted to keep up with their routine. That boy was one of those people who always insisted on running his laps on the track despite the hot weather. A small group of the track team was like that, actually. Sometimes, he'd stay after school, acting like a water boy to earn a few extra bucks.

During the track's active season, it was an easy hundred bucks, just to do nothing but hand out cold water bottles and towels. Sometimes, the guys even called him an honorary member of the team. It made him feel fuzzy a lot more than he was proud to admit.

Almost like he belonged somewhere, even if he could only watch it from the outside.

He remembered the exact moment like it was yesterday. The water felt really cold in his hands as he held it out towards that boy, that adorable muscle-headed boy. The pass off was quick, the usual thank you lingering on his ears far longer than it should have.

But then it happened.

"Aww, look, our honorary member's blushing! What are you, in love with him?"

It hurt. His heart seemed like it fell apart right in front of him, and the most painful part? He couldn't confidently tell them that they were wrong. He couldn't convince himself that they were wrong.

He couldn't help but avert his gaze. He feigned normalcy as if he were just counting how many bottles were left. How many sweat towels he had on hand. How much he could keep holding himself together before he'd fall apart all over again.

Would that boy have hated him if he had known? Would he be disgusted by the sight of him? The thought of him? Would he despise every interaction they ever had, knowing the truth?

His head was spinning. It wouldn't stop. He never said anything back to that boy with the jokes. It only would get worse if he had, Andie thought. It only got worse anyway, though. it only ever gets worse.

...

It was odd, however. He could ignore the quips from the other boys most times, the gossip, and hymns and whispers with no path. Andie could never ignore those stares of disappointment his father would shoot him, though. As if he had personally failed him somehow.

"You're 16 years old. You should have a girlfriend by now!"

His father's voice- it more than echoed, it bellowed. It was full of hatred, disdain, as if his own flesh and blood had personally and critically wounded him. His pride as a man.

But what he hated more than his father's words was his mother's silence. Wasn't she supposed to love him? To protect him? To care for and nurture him? His father's screams scared him, but his mother's silence hurt him even more.

"Why does it even matter?" He didn't understand why he was screaming back. His hands trembled as he gripped onto his hoodie, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. He didn't get it- he didn't understand. Neither did his father, whose voice shook the halls.

It was nonsense, that's all it really was. A nonsense, nothingburger of an argument. It wasn't the first time he'd get reprimanded for his lack of a partner; it wouldn't be the last time. But, he was so, so tired. Tears welled up in his eyes, and for a moment, Andie couldn't help him. He might have even doomed himself.

"I don't even LIKE women, why the fresh hell would I ever consider DATING one?"

He regretted the moment the words slipped from his mouth. The way the room went silent, the way his father shut down completely, but the worst of it- the traitor of a person he called "mother" for so many years-

"But, you don't really mean that. That isn't the lord's way. You're just being rebellious, you don't know what you're talking about, Andre."

Something inside him broke that day. Or, maybe it had been broken for a long, long time, and he was finally just now noticing it. He was right.

They could never really love him as he was.

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"You ran away on purpose that night, didn't you?" The words came from a boy Andie never fully recognized. At least, Andie thought it was a boy. The lake made it hard to tell on reflection alone. "I wanted to disappear. I guess I got what I wanted." There wasn't really a use in lying, not anymore.

The boy laughed as it moved closer. At least, he thought the direction was "forward", he couldn't really tell. His eyes felt tired. Was it from the crying? Or was it from something different?

Well, it didn't really matter, did it? His eyes shifted slightly, focusing on his reflection. Or, where it should have been. Instead of his own face, it was blurry, smudged, frosted. His fingers twitched instinctively as he carefully touched his face. His eyes, his nose, his smile, he could feel each feature with his fingers. But, in his own gaze, he couldn't help but notice. It never seemed to be there, no matter what he did, where he looked.

It didn't matter. Drawings. Photos. Reflections. His own face, his own features all but seemed to disappear before his eyes. Did he view himself so poorly? That even he didn't want to see himself? Or, was it that the person he had become was so different from who he was that his own reflection didn't resemble him anymore?

"You're quite the sad display." Oh, yeah, that boy. In his own despair, he had completely forgotten about it. The boy who once wore his face, his name, his own features that he no longer could recognize on himself, all so it could kill the closest female friend he ever had, and even target his own little sister. Its heels clicked against the ripples of the lake as it circled Andie while he was down. A painful reminder of... everything. Anything. "It's fascinating. They hated you because you were gay. Because you like men? That's hilarious! You're hilarious."

Andie's hands trembled as he covered his head with a sniffle. His frail body curled in on itself beneath the cold, harsh, clouded moonlight. Everything about this conversation was so painful, so unnecessary. But then, it said something he didn't understand. "I like you a lot. I wish I had gotten to meet you earlier!"

The words weighed heavily on his chest as he looked up. He couldn't help himself; the words caught him terribly off guard. "What?" Did this thief really... say that? It smiled an off-putting grin, something Andie couldn't fully navigate through. Its grey-green eyes, its long brown hair, its freckles... A sharp pain pierced Andie's skull the moment their eyes made contact. Whimpering, he instinctively covered his eyes. Why did he do that? He knew better than to look a demon in the eyes.

I like you a lot.

I wish I had gotten to meet you earlier.

His head was splitting. Those words were everything he'd ever wanted to hear from someone, to have someone acknowledge him as something more than a case study in self-destruction.

To be not even loved, being liked was more than enough for him. At this point, if it was total hatred, Andie was desperate to take it. But it was coming from someone he knew was a total psychopath. Someone he knew was nothing but cruel and manipulative.

"Do you just expect me to forget you stole my face from me and killed someone I knew?" "Nope! It's better that you don't forget that, actually."

At least it was being honest. He wanted to believe so, anyway. Andie's head slumped over against the lake, his hair curling lazily over his neck and hoodie. He wasn't sure when he had started crying. Maybe he never stopped crying. He felt so tired.

That seemed like a recurring issue- Andie's memory. Andie struggled with more than recognizing himself. He felt like his memory was failing him, too. He wondered if it had been so long since he wound up in a world he couldn't escape from, or if his memory of the world outside it had severely faded.

He couldn't remember the last time he ate. He knew he had to have eaten recently; he'd have long since starved if he hadn't. That strange creature, the one who was almost all red. He wasn't sure if he was its guest or its prisoner some days.

He couldn't remember his own family's faces. He could barely remember their voices. He couldn't help but wonder, was his little sister really blonde? Was he misremembering her? He used to believe she was the cutest little girl in the world, the prettiest princess. But now, he wasn't sure.

He didn't even remember her name. He could barely remember his own. It was like his life was fading away right in front of him, and there was nothing he could do but accept it. His life wasn't over- no, he wasn't even sure if he had a life prior to this.

The entities.

The lake.

What was he thinking about again? He couldn't remember.

He felt a pressure on his chest, a sharp pain through his system snapping him out of his own rotting thoughts. A shoe was placed firmly against his chest, the foot of that pretender pressing down with just enough force to bother him. Not painful, but just enough to be uncomfortable.

He couldn't really see its face from this angle. Maybe that was a good thing? He only experienced headaches from looking it in the face. In the eyes. Was he stupid enough to keep doing it? Knowing it'd hurt him anyway?

"You're kind of quiet." It wasn't wrong. Andie was always kind of quiet; maybe that was part of his problem. But, still... Andie's hand gripped onto its foot, confused but unpleased. "I don't really want to talk to you of all people." His eyes shifted, noting the many other reflections in the lake water. Eerie shadows of what used to be people. "... not like I'd prefer the shadows either." Covering all his bases, just in case. Its foot moved, and for a moment, he wondered if it caught the hint.

Instead, it knocked the wind out of his chest as it suddenly dropped onto its knees, landing on Andie's body, forcing it to cushion its fall. "But, I want to talk to you! The others aren't much for conversation anyway- they're hardly intelligent!" Its hands ran across his shoulders, the touch lingering slightly uncomfortable in his chest. In his soul. It left him conflicted.

And it knew it.

"I used to be a boy myself, actually. Before Paranoia liberated me." The confession surprised Andie. Just slightly. He- It? Chorus used to be human? Forget a human male, but... human? What kind of human shapeshifts into other people? "What...?" The confusion came in waves, then the realization hit him, it hit him heavy. The smile that spread across its face was devilish as it leaned in, closer and softer spoken. "I used to be a boy." It repeated it again, as if Andie hadn't heard it the first time.

A hand traveled up his neck, the tip of its finger pushed lightly against his lip. That boy smiled again, its voice still low, still quiet. Words meant only for him to hear, even if he didn't want to. "I'm your little pipe dream, aren't I, Andre?" The way his name was whispered, it sent chills down his spine. "If this is your idea of a joke, I don't-" Its thumb pushed down against his lips, shutting him down instantly. His chest ached, the weight of Chorus pushing the air from his chest. Its legs locked around his sides, one hand tugging on his sweater. "You just want someone who loves you. There's nothing wrong with that!" Its words were cruel, because deep down, Andie knew it wasn't wrong.

Then, its word cut deeper, its free hand clasping Andie's wrist as it sat up straight. Pulling his palm close to its mouth, it flashed a sharp grin. A row of sharp teeth, a warmth spreading across his skin. "There is nothing wrong with you. The world was wrong." The words burned against his skin.

There is nothing wrong with you.

There is nothing wrong with you.

The world was wrong.

Those words were all he ever wanted to hear. To be told that he was okay, that he wasn't broken. Another chill traveled down his spine as his hand moved closer to its mouth, a hot breath traveling through his senses. He shivered as it pushed his thumb against its teeth, sharp rapid breaths traveling down his palm and through his nerves. "You wanted to hear those words so, so badly that you don't even care who's saying them."

A pain tore through his hand as Chorus's teeth tore into his finger, its tongue poking into the fresh wound. Andie choked back a scream, squirming beneath the entity. He jerked violently beneath it, his body reacting on impulse. On instinct. "No, you don't even care! You don't care, Cassidy didn't care, Marie didn't care, no one cares about the hand that feeds them as long as it's whatever they desired!" For the first time, he could see himself in its eyes. Those swirling, hazy grey-green eyes. It was strange; he didn't get a headache this time when he looked into them.

No, what he was feeling was so much worse. Blood streamed down his arm as Chorus sank its teeth into his palm. But what hurt more was the way it dug its tongue into the wound, a gross squelching noise echoing through the normally quiet lake. Slow, labored breaths, hot and heavy against his skin. Its legs pressed roughly against his sides as chills trembled through its body. "You'd take my love, even if I tore off your hand to hand it to you." Its smile was so unnerving. Blood staining its lips, dripping down its face, and down its neck. A look of cruel satisfaction.

It didn't seem to matter what he did; what he had tried. It wasn't enough. Not enough to get it to stop biting, to let him go, to grant him relief. But the worst part of it all was that it wasn't wrong. His head felt dazed, like it was floating. He felt so utterly devoid, so empty. Yet, he couldn't deny it.

The way his heart fluttered at the idea of being loved. The way his mind melted at being told he wasn't wrong, he wasn't broken. The way his body ached for- craved for its touch. His touch. The way his mind screamed for safety, but his body blatantly ignored it. The way his desire betrayed his nature.

"And you'll hate me because I gave you exactly what you've been craving for so, so long; my love, my attention, my words. And I'll enjoy every agonizing moment of it."

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... His eyes shifted. His mind still felt hazy. His hand was sore. His arm ached. He couldn't move his body. The pain shifted throughout his body. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. There wasn't any escape. There was no one to tell his pain, his blood, his ache.

The pain didn't fully bother him. Not anymore. He wasn't sure why. Had his senses dulled so severely? Or, had he forgotten the pain already?

Would his memories of the event fade from his mind, too? No, even if the memories faded, even if his mind forgot, would his body? His soul?

"You look awful." The voice echoed throughout the lake, a pair of heels rippling across the surface of the lake. "How lovely." His eyes glanced up, staring up at the creature. His captor, although his mind has already forgotten how. He just knew it; he wasn't from this place, and this thing brought him here. It bent down, its long, slender fingers creeping over his torn-up arm. It held something in its other hand, something white. He wished he could say he knew what it was. He didn't.

If he had, he had forgotten it.

He had forgotten a lot. He likely had forgotten more than he remembered. His mind was more of a traitor than- ah. Nevermind. He couldn't remember that either. "Is it true?" Andie couldn't help himself. He wanted to know. Was it the truth? Or another lie he fell for, just like so, so many people before him? "Uhm. That other entity. Was he really-?" He struggled to ask the question. It was on the tip of his tongue, yet a strange fear washed over his body. Did he really want the answer to this question? All it would do is confirm a fact he didn't want to face.

"A. A boy. Before becoming... that... thing?" He struggled with it. He asked it anyway. He'd likely forget the answer in a short while. The bigger entity paused a moment, a smile spreading across its features. It let out an awful, disturbing laugh, one that hurt his ears. "Lorraine? Before I liberated it, it was a he. Did it tell you?" The confirmation hurt him even more.

He felt awful.

Tears formed in his eyes, a painful welling up in his chest. His voice broke as he sobbed out in pain. His good hand trembled as he covered his face with it. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to be watched. From somewhere deep, deep inside him. He could feel it. Whatever it was. It had finally broken. No, not broken.

It shattered like glass.

That thing, Paranoia, as everything here called it, it only smiled. It only laughed at him. "It's been interested in you for a while, truthfully." Those words didn't help. It only made him more scared. Interested in what? His suffering? "Beyond your appearance. Beyond the power your face gave it." Its fingers dusted his forehead, light and cautious. Its voice slow, low, hushed. Like it was telling him a secret no one else gets to know.

"It wanted to know you." His hands clasped over its eyes as he huffed, trying to get his emotions under control. Himself under control. It didn't help as more tears poured, his choked back sobs getting louder, his breathing becoming more shaky, more ragged, more unstable. His chest twisted, ached, burned.

"I've been struggling with myself for almost 19 years now, and- that? THAT?!" He felt so upset, he felt so bitter. "A SERIAL KILLER IS THE ONLY ONE WHO ACCEPTS ME?" Was he losing his mind? He felt like he was losing his mind. His grip. He was so pissed off.

"You know, it. it said the thing I've wanted to hear my entire fucking life. 'There's nothing wrong with you.' It said that to me. It sounded so sincere." His sadness and his agony were all replaced with something else. Something worse. Anger. But it wasn't anger at them. No.

It was anger at the world that abandoned him.

"But then, you have to remember it killed someone. With MY face. It stole my fucking identity and it-" His hands were trembling, his chest burned with anger. Righteous anger. "Oooohhhh my god, it killed my sister's fucking best friend. Do you understand how wild that is?!" Paranoia couldn't help it, laughing at his anger, his distress, his pain. It couldn't help but watch as everything ignited like a forest fire. It only seemed to watch as that fire burned bright and hot.

"I don't understand! I don't understand why! Why?! WHY?!" And that fire burned, threatening to overtake everything and anything. "It's so fucking stupid! It's stupid, it's dumb, I feel like I'm going fucking insane! I couldn't even get my own PARENTS to say it, but a fucking serial murderer can say it no problem no PROMPT? ARE WE INSANE?!"

And then, the fire burned itself out, almost moments after it ignited. It burned everything away, leaving him feeling nothing more than empty inside. Hollow.

Tears rolled down his face, but he was too tired to wipe them away. Too tired to hide anymore. His arms slumped over, falling down to his sides with a small thud. His entire being felt distant. Like it wasn't there anymore. Like something had vanished.

"It said it liked me."

And just like that, his heart broke all over again. It just broke over all again. His heart ached, but now, he finally knew why. He couldn't get his own family to love him. But a stranger said it with no issues. With nothing to gain from it.

"I think it's more than that. Love between humans is extremely twisted, isn't it?" It wasn't fully wrong. Love between humans was extremely twisted. Sometimes, he felt like there wasn't any love out there to begin with. If there had been, maybe things would have been different. Maybe he'd have been different.

He let out a long, deep sigh. His eyes fluttered slightly, a wave of tiredness overtaking him. He felt so tired. "You've finally let go of everything holding you down." He barely even cared anymore. "You're finally ready to get back at that world that hurt you."

Its fingers combed through his hair lightly, a warmth flooding his senses. It numbed him. Its voice was haunting in his ears. "You're finally letting your beauty show." ... His beauty, huh. Was that what it was? He always thought it was hatred and disdain. Maybe people like that found it beautiful to see. When someone finally lets it all go.

It did sound beautiful in a way. He wasn't quite able to imagine it himself, though. Not the way it was being presented.

His eyes closed, his breath slowing down until it eventually stabilized to a slow, steady rhythm. His entire body felt so light. When was the last time he felt so light? So free? He couldn't remember it. It didn't really matter, though; he accepted his memories had all but vanished a long time ago.

"It's finally time to welcome you home."

...

He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping. Time didn't pass the same way it did in the real world. His vision was blurry as he opened his eyes. He still felt tired, but something about him felt different.

Actually, something else felt different, too. The lake wasn't this soft. His fingers twitched as he felt something soft. Soft? His head was spinning. He craned his neck as he looked down. There was a blanket over him. He couldn't help himself as he looked around. He was inside a building. It looked like some kind of home. A home?

"You sleep like a brick." The voice caught him off guard, Andie's entire body reacting violently as he scooted around in the bed, gripping onto the blanket tightly. "W-What?" His breathing was all out of sorts, and now that he was fully awake, he almost wished he wasn't.

Chorus- No, Lorraine, was so, so close. A little too close for comfort. Did Andie know what was comfortable for him anymore? He could see himself in those maniac, grey-green eyes. And he didn't get a headache doing so. "You're really close." "I know!" Oh, it was doing this on purpose. Great. His chest trembled shakily before another voice caught him off guard. "Move your big head, Lorraine! You're blocking the view!" A hand suddenly appeared from Lorraine's side, before suddenly shoving the strange entity to the side. A small huff from Lorraine could be heard. Displeasure?

In front of him- Andie wasn't even sure how to describe it; he couldn't, even if he desperately wanted to. And he desperately, desperately wanted to. "Woah. He's pretty!" It was... it looked like a girl. A girl with long, brown hair and the prettiest pink eyes he'd ever seen. But there were more of them. Not shadows like he was used to, no, real people- or, what he assumes used to be people. A hand reached out from behind the girl, grabbing onto the girl's collar as he pulled her back. "Let's not get into the poor boy's face. Otherwise, you're no better than Lorraine." "You're all just mad I got to be the one to break the camel's back."

And then there was that final one, a girl with long black hair and blurred purple eyes. It stood off to the side, hands clasped over its stomach like some kind of observer. Somehow, the silence was scarier than the loud arguments from one familiar face and two brand new ones.

He noticed her immediately, the way she moved so gracefully. The way the others didn't seem to notice. She sat on the bed next to him, unnoticed by others. But not by him. "You must be confused right now." Her voice was so soft, but he couldn't focus. He shook his head silently; he couldn't stop himself. He was beyond confused. "It happens to everyone, once they awaken here." Her eyes closed. a soft smile forming on her face. Then, Lorraine's head snapped in Andie's direction. "Your telepathy is freaky, Stella." It sounded displeased as they turned towards the bed. Walking towards the bed, it grabbed Andie's hand. Lorraine got extremely close to Andie, watching as Andie squirmed. It took a unique pleasure knowing there wasn't anywhere for him to go, to run to. "I guess I should explain it to you! I'm the reason you're here anyway. It's kind of romantic, isn't it?" "Please don't talk about romantic things." Lorraine just smiled. Its fingers entwined in his own, an odd warmth flooding his senses.

"You gave our other half quite the hard time! But that doesn't matter anymore. You're exactly where you should be. With me!" His brows furrowed as he stared down at his legs. He still felt hollow. He still felt empty. "The rest of us are here, too." Lorraine rolled his eyes in response as it continued. "Whatever, Ash. To put it lightly... You want to hurt the world the same way it hurt you, don't you?" "I... I don't know."

Then, that girl cut in. The one with the cheerful attitude. "You're the one who likes men! Outcasted by society!" Ouch. That was certainly a description. His chest tightened. "Yeah! And you can hurt them back! You can give them exactly what they deserve!" "The way she put it is crude, but... she isn't wrong." The man's voice was soft, as if in deep thought. Lorraine called him Ash, he thinks that's what it called him.

"We all operate on something." Its fingers lingered entwined in his own, and for a moment, Andie's nervousness went away. Then, it continued. "We're similar! We both are going to operate on emotions. Hatred and love." Hatred and love... he didn't understand. So he let it keep explaining. "Ashley over there, the wolf cut with the cool hat-" The man bowed as he was introduced. Huh, he never noticed the wolf cut. It made the man look kind of wild. "-it's got a crime and punishment operation theme going on!" "I won't accept injustice." It pulled a blade out from within its coat pocket, a sharp, crimson colored blade. "The short girl is Sparkle." The girl bowed dramatically, almost as if she were playing a role. "Sparkle! at your service~" She winked playfully as she waved. Andie left a little nervous as he waved back. "She's got a bit of an impulse thing going on. She does what she wants, when she wants, anyone and everyone else be damned." Lorraine chuckled. Then, it plopped onto his lap. It wrapped its arms around his shoulders, getting closer than Andie was comfortable. "And the silent one is Stella. She's been here the longest of us, even longer than me; sometimes she even talks in your head. Freaky shit!" It leaned back as it settled against Andie's chest. Then, it hummed as it chuckled. "I don't actually know what her deal is! She's weird!"

"...Oh." He paused a moment, scratching his chin for a moment. "Yeah, I don't get it." He wouldn't even lie, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was so baffled. Confused. He was beyond confused, in reality. This is was beyond his understanding. Honestly, it made his head hurt. No, it made more than just his head hurt. "Get off me, by the way." He shoved Lorraine off, a playful laugh coming from the entity as it slumped over onto the bed.

He placed a hand on his forehead, wincing as he sighed slowly. Letting out a deep breath. "You all hurt people based on your own... agendas? I guess?" He tried to make sense of the nonsense. He was really, really trying his hardest to. His fingers twitched as he ran his fingers through his hair. "And now you want me to be one of those, like you?" "Close!" Sitting up, it smiled again, looking at Andie with what he could only describe as... nevermind. Whatever he had in his mind, he promptly lost it.

"You're not 'becoming' one of us. You already are."

...

"Alright, everyone out! Out! Out!!!!" Andie curled up in the bed, watching Lorraine as it shooed everyone else out. Part of him still felt conflicted. His feelings. The way it invoked a warmth in him that he had been craving his entire life. He hated the way he craved more and more of it.

It turned towards him, a sly smile on its face. That smile makes him nervous. Nervous, for more reasons than just one. It did more than make him nervous; it made his heart flutter. He hates that feeling, not because of the feeling itself. It was who those feelings were for that bothered him.

"We're finally alone! Finally." Lorraine's hands clasped behind its back as it leaned forward. Strolling closer to Andie, it stopped at the end of the bed, lingering by the edge for a moment. "Ashley told me about what happened." Oh. "Your little crash and break." Oh. He just met them, but wow, what a fucking traitor, Ashley.

"Can we forget I said that?" He was embarrassed. Really embarrassed. And yet he couldn't help himself. He was nervous as it leaned in closer. One hand behind its back, one hand holding his chin, its thumb pressed against his lips. Carefully, slowly, with deep consideration. "What's the harm in indulging in a little fantasy where someone loves you, no problem, no prompt?" He wanted to speak, to say something, but horror settled in his chest when he realized there was nothing for him to say. Nothing that would help him or his case. "We both get something out of it."

"What?" The sentence confused him. What would it get out of pretending to love him? Pretending that there was nothing wrong with him? "It's simple! You get to feel loved, cared for, cherished... and I get to have a place in your life." "A place in my life...?" Andie paused a moment, his hand lying against its wrist. It was such a nothingburger of a sentence. A place in his life? That was all it wanted out of this? "Its so... simple?" Lorraine smiled back, and for a moment, Andie struggled to look away. "It was all I ever wanted when I was still a human. While all you wanted was someone to love you the way you were and convince you that you weren't broken... I only wanted to have a place inside of someone's life. To be irreplaceable." "Ah. So the arrangement really does work out in both our favor." In the end, the only thing they gain out of this is one another.

The simplest desires can create some of the most hateful people, can't they?

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CHARACTER CAST ARCHIVE ♪

Andre Aubrey - A young man who wound up in a pocket realm known as "The Lake". He is the elder brother of Robin Aubrey, and a well-known missing person who's never returning back home.

"Chrous"/Lorraine - A creature who is well-known for wearing the likeness of others. Reintroduced with its human name, Lorraine, it's back and (most likely) worse (and more queer) than ever.

"Myriad"/Sparkle - A creature similar to Chorus; however, she seems to operate under different motives, which Lorraine describes as "impulse". She was the most recent human to be turned into an entity by Paranoia.

"Swan"/Stella - A creature similar to Chorus; however, she seems to operate under different motives, which Lorraine admits it doesn't know. She seems to be the oldest of the group, being a resident of the lake before Lorraine was.

"Agency"/Ashley - A creature similar to Chorus; however, he seems to operate under different motives, which Lorraine describes as "crime and punishment". He seems to be more stable than the rest of them.

His hands clasped around the mess of paperwork cluttering his desk. Being an assistant wasn't an easy feat. Some days, he felt the work weighed more on his soul than anything else he'd done thus far in his life.

Professor Lucille made it all seem so effortless. She was kind, patient, infintely informant. She was perfection itself, from the way she walked to the way she talked.

"Sometimes, it gets a little tiring, sure." The entity seemed so cheerful, despite the fact of the matter. "You can't help another, and sometimes you're the victim of your own making." The beige coat it wore, the white gloves it fashioned- it felt oddly familiar.

"You're quite an insightful little thing. Your job is so tragic, though. Don't you wish you could help those people in your visions?" Professor Lucille, as insightful as ever. The assistant tilted his head to the side slightly as he pushed the papers together hastily. "Is this even a good idea? That thing is just like the ones whose killed so many humans and animals. Why do you trust it so much?"

He didn't miss the way the entity flinched, its hands shifting uncomfortably against its chest as it diverted its gaze nervously. Even its demeanor read "guilty". The professor simply smiled, a hand on her chin with a curious expression. "I've learned so much in the time I've spent at the academy. 30 years lets you tell someone's character, just at a glance." Her fingers outstretched, brushing lightly through the soft ginger hair on the entity's head. "He's not a bad kid. You weren't a bad kid either, when I first met you, Makoto. Everyone can use a little bit of benefit."

The boy leaned in absentmindedly to the professor's touch. It purred softly, and Makoto could feel her defenses melting right then and there. "I wish I could dispel the doubts away-" Lifting up its head, its blue eyes focused in on Makoto and Lucille for a moment. Then it reached up, fiddling with its high collar. "But, that only provides temporary belief. Suspicion over someone you don't know is only natural, right?"

Then, it began unbuttoning its collar, its shirt falling wide open. A large gash wound scar covered a majority of the entity's neck, shoulders, and upper chest. Rubbing the scar nervously, he laughed. "I've been in a similar situation myself, actually. Apparently, I couldn't even trust myself. He killed me without hesitation." The words left the duo speechless.

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"Am I a demon? Am I the devil for telling the truth?" The entity lifted its hand, its fingers lingering on the edge of the car's rear-view mirror. It couldn't help itself, grazing back at the young man curled up in the driver's seat. Sleeping so peacefully, a rest Majin was sure he'd been praying for day in and day out. It couldn't help itself from smiling as it stuck its hand through the window fully, gently stroking the hair atop the reporter's head.

Majin lay its head against the window slowly, its hair bunching up at the bottom of the door. "You seem so peaceful like this, Tyler. I'm happy for you." It couldn't ignore the sudden presence by its side, and even though it lacked pupils, it shifted its attention over to the unfortunate entity standing by its side. "I remember when you used to fall asleep from pure exhaustion, Bounds, just like this." The Ranger didn't say much, its gaze (or, lack thereof) focused intently on the man before him. "All curled up in the racecar stands..." Majin's hand lifted up, lightly pushing a tangled strand of hair from the Ranger's face. "Sleeping like the world around you didn't exist. I wish I could give that feeling back to you again." The words stung as it slipped from its lips. In a way, Majin believed Boundary and the human before him were similar. They were just the unfortunate prey of a bigger, scarier predator.

A slight chuckle came from the racetrack entity as it tilted its head. "He doesn't trust me." Tyler trusts no one, Majin thought. It wasn't its fault; it did everything it could for Tyler. Right? A gross, grotesque ripping sound interrupted the soft silence, one Majin knew well. Turning its head in time to gain a quick glimpse, a dark liquid dripped down Boundary's face before an eerie response came out of the normally silent Ranger. "Not your fault..." Boundary's head tilted to the side, a tassel slipping through the cracked window. It lightly nudged Tyler's face, earning a sleepy whine from the human. Yet, it did nothing but earn a whine. He slept well.

"Doomed... from start..." Majin's hand cupped its face as it chuckled. "Oh, he was deeply doomed from the start. The moment I realized Remnant rigged his headphones to blow, I just knew it. Even if I got him through to daybreak, he'd never be the same again." Majin's heart ached. It knew it the best; Tyler lost a part of him he'd never be able to get back. Remnant had robbed him of something that was impossible to replace.

His sense of security. Majin could stop Boundary from taking him, Majin could ride him into daybreak, but a broken person will always fall back into the hands of the darkness.

Tyler didn't sleep because he trusted Majin. He didn't sleep because he knew Majin would keep him safe. He slept, simply because his body had shut down completely, and to rest was the only option left. Of course, it wasn't like Majin couldn't say Tyler hadn't trusted him, in one capacity or another. Majin cannot form a relationship, a bond.

Trusting was tough. It wouldn't fault Tyler for struggling with it in a world that never allowed him to start. Majin laughed, a soft but hearty laugh. "If I let him leave, the danger he faces only increases tenfold from here. A death, even worse, even more violent. A fate that is more than gruesome." Majin's head turned to the entity standing by its side.. "Would I be a devil? If I let you take him now, rather than allow him to subject himself to a worse fate down the line?" Majin wasn't sure.

Would making Tyler's choice for him be such a bad thing?

The Ranger couldn't offer an answer.

...

"The martyrs are here to play with me. My muses of nightmares."

The young master made Majin nervous, without fail. Without a second thought. Majin hated visiting it with a passion. The young master knew how to sow fear and discomfort into even the most easy-going entities.

"I'd like to make a deal on The Ranger's behalf." Beside it stood Boundary, cradling a bound-up Tyler in its tassels, a hazy look in his eyes. Part of Majin's heart ached, trading Tyler away like this for the benefit of its fellow entity, but Majin knew he'd end up here sooner or later. To Majin, it rather Tyler passed peacefully, than to be torn to pieces like so many before him.

"Can't the Ranger speak for itself?" "You aren't wrong, Young Master. However... I'm here, out of personal request." It cocked its head slowly, an amused expression forming on its features before a low laugh erupted from its chest. "You expect me to initiate the weight of a game you know I've never won? Addictions like this are really so absurd." It was amused by these events, sure, but Majin noticed something. "You didn't deny us outright, however." While it wasn't careful... the Young Master wasn't careless. It originated from something akin to their god, yet some days... it felt more clever than its own counterpart. "Who am I to deny content when it comes knocking on my door? I simply intend to do what I do best."

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"They betrayed him?" "I want to think it was moreso... they tried to do right by him. Even if the decision they made wasn't... the best." The man's fingers lightly scratched at his chin, the two humans glancing between one another in shock. "It's the closest case towards 'love' I've seen from an entity thus far. It's honestly quite fascinating!" Grabbing a piece of chalk, he drew circles on the empty blackboard. Then, carefully, he began to write words on the board. "Are we in for a history lesson, Mister Alice?"

Scratching his head, Alice laughed nervously. "If you want to call it that...? Legacy was always better at the whole interacting with people thing." Drawing a small chibi head, Alice wrote the word "Legacy" above it. Then, tapping the drawing with the chalkstick in its hand, it smiled meekly before quickly drawing another one right underneath it, similar in design, with the name "Faker" accompanying it. "I was always more... observant between the two of us. Data. Analytical." Moving to the other side of the board, he repeated the same thing. A chibi, and a small name above it. Then, beneath his chibi, he drew a similar-looking one. Writing the word "Erebus" beneath it, Alice turned to the duo before him before scratching his head with his free hand.

"There are four main groups that lesser entities like Majin and Boundary originate from. There's Legacy and Faker, and then there's the original Alice and Erebus." Drawing another few sets of chibis, which Makoto could only assume were other entities they've yet to learn about, Alice continued slowly. "Majin's a unique case from what I've seen. Most entities come from Faker- think of it as an evil twin of some sort." Drawing an arrow between Faker and several of the chibis, Alice's brows furrowed. "Hatred and animosity make up the cores of their beings." Tapping the chalkboard carefully, he sighed. "These guys are the ones humanity has been dealing with for... god knows how long! They're usually the bad guys. The closer to the Faker they are, the more powerful they are. The further away, the weaker they are. But weaker doesn't mean much in these terms..."

Moving around, Alice climbed onto a filing cabinet. It leaned over, making marks on the top of the board. Group A and Group B. Off to the side, Group C and Group D. "A and B are the big two groups. Most entities gain their core between one of the two of these groups. Myself included." He circled the second group as he spoke, pointing at himself briefly before nodding. "I originate from the original Alice. I'm not him exactly... but moreso something he created before he was killed and replaced." Then, drawing an arrow over Majin's head, he pointed it at Legacy, rather than his evil chibi self. "Similarly, Majin originates from Legacy. So far, I've only confirmed two entities that originate from Legacy. Majin and Kikumune. Kikumune is god, by the way." "What?"

Brushing straight past the confusion, Alice continued carefully. Looking down at Lucille and Makoto, he scratched his chin slowly. "Group C and D are a little different... Group C is the Mourning Actors." Drawing another chibi, Alice pondered. "Most mourning actors... used to be human, from my findings. Only one is an entity from the start." Looking around, it suddenly put the white chalk down, opting for a red colored piece instead. Then, it wrote the name "RED" over the top of the chibi. Turning, he nodded. "RED is... interesting as an entity. It has the power to overwrite and assimilate others into its world. Its role. It has the power and prowess to turn any human into a mourning actor like itself." Then, tilting its head, Alice's brows furrowed. Putting the red chalk down and grabbing the white one again, he continued. "The network of the Mourning Actors is quite vast, actually. Alexandra, Cyrus, Miranda... all names I've confirmed! But there are still so many I don't know."

Then, moving the chalk down, he tapped the top of Group D, Alice looked up. Scratching its head nervously, he sighed. "And Group D, the Audience. This group of entities is... interesting. They're made up or just two entities... Paranoia and Lorraine. These two are the worst."

"What about the one you called "Young Master" in your story? Where does that one fall on your... entity scale?" Makoto couldn't help himself from asking that. It was a good question, though, from the way Alice braced himself. "... an oddity. Not even in group E, which is entities of their own class and caliber like Sayume. Solace shouldn't exist at all. That is... what confuses and worries me the most."

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"Girl, what the hell are you even doing?" Three beers in. She was three beers in. All because of a man who didn't even give a damn about her. She felt played, like a fucking fool. He played her like she was a goddamned fiddle.

She slumped over as she stumbled through the streets drunkenly. She swayed around as she fumbled through the world in a drunken haze. She hated him. She hated the girl he got with. She hated her friends who let him play her.

Fuck. Why is everyone around her so shitty? "Uwahhh, what'd I do to deserve this?" She wanted to cry so badly. She wanted nothing more than to fall onto her hands and knees and sob, to dissolve in her sorrow. But, she didn't want to give it in to them and their stupid ass games. If she cried, they won. Simple as that.

"Fuck them bitches..." She sniffled drunkenly as she stumbled forward. Throwing her bottle across the parking lot, she half expected it to shatter. Instead, it bounced for a while before eventually rolling down and hitting something odd. "My fucking bottttttle." She huffed with a pout on her face as she marched forward to grab it. However, a deep chuckle caught her off guard. Actually, it was beyond catching her off guard; she nearly screamed when she heard it. When she screamed, the strange person laughed even more. "Bwahahah! You scream like a bitch!" The strange man(?) laughed at her panic, wheezing with a smile on its face. "The fffUCK are you laughing at you.... bRATTT." Stumbling, she pointed at the person on the porch angrily, stomping her feet as she jumped up and down in a fit.

Stomping up to the porch, she struggled as she stumbled up the stairs. Then, getting into the strange person's face, she poked its chest angrily. However, it merely chuckled in response, reaching its hand up as it rubbed the drunken girl's forehead softly. Then, it leaned in with a sharp-toothed smile. "I'm laughing at you."

Oh.

She slinked away from the man with a whine, covering her face shyly. "UwaHhhHhh....." Flopping onto her knees, she covered her face dramatically. Then, nervously, she peeked through her fingers, up at the stranger before her. "Soo mean..." "Oh, am I now? I haven't even done anything." She watched as it bent down, one hand lightly pressed against the underside of her chin with another deep, velvetly chuckle. She whined again before planting her face in its hand completely. "Drunk humans are so fascinating." Reaching up with its other hand, it rubbed her head lightly. It crept closer to her, allowing her to use it as a stability of sorts.

It chuckled to itself, stroking her hair as it tilted its head. "What's got you so down? So utterly pathetic, all for me?" She sniffled as she leaned her head against its chest. Staring up at it with the most pathetic, tearful baby girl puppy dog eyes, she began to cry. "Men aren't SHIT, sister." "I'm not your sister?" Burying her face in its elbow, she shook her head angrily. "Men ain't.... men ain't shit! That bitch- he cheated on me with some Polly Pocket hooker! A hooker! And-" She whined as the stranger moved its arm, raising her head with a pout. "-she knEW he was taken! She knew he was fucking enGAGED! TO ME!" Her hands trembled as she gripped onto its coat, shaking it (or rather, shaking herself) in frustration. Tears began to flow from her face, a drunk daze overcoming her senses as she began to sob to this bastard of a stranger she just met. "I'm just so fuckkkkking..... uwahHHHHH."

"Suddenly, I'm glad I'm not a man." It reached over, placing a hand on her shoulder and one beneath her legs. Carefully, it lifted her up off its porch, humming to itself. Then, glancing down at the bottle at its feet, it kicked it up with its foot, catching the bottle with its teeth by the fabric of the pretty pink ribbon tied around the neck of the bottle.

"You could really be careful of strangers, kids."

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"Did she just... pick a fight with an entity?" The shock on the professor's face almost made Alice laugh. "Hannah... Oh, Hannah sweetheart..." Placing her head in her hands, the professor shook her head. Her face burned like an oil fire, and the second-hand embarrassment was so palpable, she worried it might take her out completely. "Can we talk about how she called the entity sister?" "Noo, oh my god, I can't take any more of this." Fanning her face, the professor struggled to suppress a laugh. She felt bad for laughing, but the situation itself seemed... beyond absurd.

"It's... a little frightening, though. How fast it adapted to her personality, to who she was as a person in that moment." "That's what I hate the most about it. How adaptable it is... how humane it can make itself be." Alice scratched its chin slowly, his lips made into a weak frown as he sighed a bit. "Had she never approached that house, put herself into its arms... I don't think Hannah would have been in any danger at all. It never came after her; it let her come to it."

The observation made Makoto's heart ache. "Her own heartbreak was the cause behind her own demise..." Too inebriated to realize the danger she had put herself right into the hands of. Too drunk to think. His chest ached. He wondered... how many people were like Hannah? How many of them... never came back?

"It seemed very playful, both in this story and the prior one. It's very different from the entities we've studied thus far." Alice looked up hesitantly, nodding slowly. "Studying it makes me feel like a fool." He admitted after a moment. It wasn't like most entities, sure. But why? It was personable, it was playful, it changed and shifted based on needs. It was even someone of importance for the other entities. "But, I don't understand any of it. I don't understand... Solace." "It's nothing but hopeless survival, my Calamity."

The voice caught Alice off guard, its head snapping over in the direction of the voice. "What in the hell? None of our defenses went off; you shouldn't even be able to get in here without us knowing!" The entity smiled, its fingers lightly pushed up against Alice's chin. "I could hear you all talking about me! Why? Was I not invited to this silly little tea party discussion?"

Lucille grabbed Alice's arm, pulling him away from the entity before them, getting in between them defensively. Her guest, her pupil, the only thing she could think of was to keep them safe. No matter the cost. "I'm not here to cause any trouble, honest! I just wanted to talk. I mean, isn't that all Alice is doing anyway? Just droning on, yapping, blabbing on and on and on about things you don't truly understand?" It crossed its legs as it sat on the desk, chuckling at Lucille's defensive nature. Deep down, Alice knew it wasn't Solace they should fear. Solace, as scary as it was, wasn't what frightened him. No, it was... "He knows?" Solace cocked its head to the side, chuckling lowly. "Does it stop your heart? Do you feel your hairs turning grayer?" That's not an answer.

Leaning back, it looked around the room calmly before suddenly snapping its fingers. Appearing to have thought of something, a sharp-toothed grin formed on its face. "Riddle me this. Of four doors, which door would you brave? Red, orange, teal, and green." The question caught them all off guard, a hesitance weighing in on the room. "Come on, don't be shy! I'll go first. I choose the green door."

The room fell silent, a fear wafting through the room before a hesitant voice perked up. "I guess... maybe red? I assume we're not getting much context beyond that?" Makoto placed a hand on Lucille's shoulder, a shaky breath erupting from the professor. Lowering her arms, she dusted herself off nervously. "I suppose I'd have to go with the teal door myself?" Biting his lip nervously, Alice peered from behind Lucille with a meek expression. "I guess that leaves me with orange... but, what does any of this mean, Solace?"

Chuckling again, Solace hummed. Lifting up a finger to its face, it twirled a strand of hair around it. Black eyes stared at the group, a glowing x shape emanating from the eerie entity. "You said it yourself. You don't understand me, and that bothers me! How is an entity researcher going to simply not... understand an entity? The mortal mind makes such timely treasons." Then, taping its head slowly, it smiled. It smiled with such an unsettling expression.

"The never-ending is you before your act is through. What would it prove before it strikes?"

Alice gripped his fists tightly, staring at the ground with a tight expression. "The never-ending act... what does that have to do with anything?" "I know you like to see through the lines of time. My existence is tied to that never-ending act. All your answers lie there." Alice couldn't help but stare at Solace in confusion. The never-ending act... its existence couldn't be tired to that.

"But, Remnant isn't even tied to the Mourning Actors! How could you be tied to something that precedes even them?!"

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"You'll just shrivel them all up with your beauty." It was one of its earliest memories. Not Remnant's memories, but its own.

It remembered sitting on a stage, next to many other dolls, dolls that looked similar to one another, but different from it. A tall woman stood before it, one hand on its thigh, the other gently scratching its head with its long, sharp nails. Carefully, lovingly.

"Your beauty will be your ultimate weapon. No one will be able to resist such cute charms." She was odd, it remembers. It watched as she sank down onto the floor, her head lying against the new doll's thighs. "Hatred blooms on a dime. Aren't you proud of me, my friend?" Remnant sounded so much different from what it remembered of the elder variant. Was it even Remnant? Remnant wasn't that old, was it? The woman chuckled, her hands holding onto its legs. "Every moment's where demise is. Your work rivals my own; you have such a sinister mind, my lord! But to leave your beauty in my hands..." "I want it to see how this land sings its song made of ashes. You have a performance coming up, don't you?" ... it probably wasn't Remnant. After all, it asked the elder once, it only knew the act as the foundry that would create the Mourning Actors. Nothing more, and certainly nothing personal.

The lady laughed as she gestured to the stage with her arm. "Humans will fight for just about anything! It was almost too easy, luring them into my theatre. They believe they're fighting the dark, but in reality, they're climbing right into my hand." Two dolls stood up, crawling onto the stage in silence. Then, they turned, holding glistening keys in their jointed hands. The lady continued, and Solace couldn't help but listen in. That was probably why it was there to begin with. Right?

"I've set up four doors. One for each actor! I've learned a lot from you, my lord! I've modified them each to resonate with their deepest, darkest fears, just like you suggested." She seemed so excited to present her show's script. Patting the leg of the doll, she looked up. "Ah, can it see colors yet?" "It's still relatively new. It's just a remnant fragment of my own power. If I feed too much power into it, it'll overload and fry. It likely won't see colors for a long, long time." Nodding slowly, the lady reached up as she gently ran her hands through its hair, she hummed. "There's four keys and four doors. There's a red door, an orange door, a teal door, and... a green door. Each door has a key that opens that door." Then, scratching her chin with her other hand, the lady mused for a moment. "Each door... holds something behind it. Something that's just like you, something beautifully sinful. And each door holds a fear- does it know what a fear is?" She asked a lot of questions. A lot of questions for which the answer was probably a resounding "no."

She pondered a moment, shaking her head. "You've put me in such a hard-pressed situation with the young lord." She sighed dramatically as she placed her hand against her forehead. "Let's see... fear is a feeling? Yes, fear is a feeling, something that scares you, fills you with agony and discomfort. It's dreadful, positively dreadful! A fear of the dark, a fear of failure, a fear of being alone, and a fear of betrayal." Solace tilted its head slightly, listening to the woman speak. Fear... it never did gain that emotion, did it? It never knew what it felt like to "fear".

"Ah, the show is about to start! How about it, little one? Instead of telling you... Why don't you come closer to the stage and allow me to show you? There are so many souls for me to show you how to properly play with."

A hand on its shoulder startled it a little. The odd entity- the lady only called it "My Lord"? -stood by its side, its other hand behind its back. It looked up at its elder for a moment. It was tall. Well, it seemed taller when it was sitting down, and its elder was standing up. But, still, it was so, so tall. "My apologies. Lady Verity is simply excited to show us what she's capable of." It stared down at the doll of its own, carefully smoothing back its hair with its gloved hand. "Dolls like you and Vanellope are rare, you see." Vanellope? "Sentience and intelligence fade in things that aren't flesh and bone in origin." A small girl had come up at the tail end of the conversation, pushing something up the walkway. Stopping just shy of the odd entity, the girl seemed to wait patiently. Craning its neck, it seemed to be carrying... a giant blob? It watched in confusion as the elder entity grabbed it with one hand, dragging it closer before sitting down on it. "Keep your eyes focused ahead. The actors have arrived."

Scooting around in the chair it sat in as it stared down at what looked like... oh, it wasn't sure. Some large, open area with box-like structures. Did that lady call them doors? "Look a little south." It was like a hint... but which way was south? A small poke to its cheek, its head turned in what the doll only assumed was south. The actors, although it didn't really understand what that meant, they looked... interesting.

Would they have looked better in color?

....

"Count them. Tell me how many you can see." One of them had these... odd things on their head. Instinctively, the doll put its hands on its head, curiously trying to imitate the odd person's headpiece. It looked floppy... and it was slightly disappointed its hands couldn't replicate the same motion. Next to the weird headpiece person, another one. They wore something on their head too, but it looked less weird. The thing they wore on their face looked weird, though. It couldn't help it, lower its hands before feeling its face. It didn't have anything there... besides its eyes. There was another person, and that one looked super tall. It carried something... like a giant long stick. Why would you carry around a giant long stick? That was stupid. They also had something on their face, something round. It's fingers tried to imitate the round item, and frustration washed over when it couldn't do that either. There was also something around their neck... it wasn't sure what it was, though. Speaking of strange things around their necks, there was one more person. It looked like the lady a bit. Maybe they were a girl? There was something round on her neck. It had a couple layers of round, now that it was looking at her closer. It seemed squishy. But what really fascinated it was the thing on her head. It looked squishy. It liked her. She was pretty, it decided.

It turned back to its elder, holding up four fingers in response to its question. The elder simply chuckled in response, stroking the top of its head with a smile. It looked so soft and nice. The doll paused a moment as it stared at the elder. "What?" Then, it imitated its smile. The elder paused before letting out a soft laugh. "You're funny, my calamity." It tilted its head slightly.

Then, the four people down there started speaking. The tall one with the round face accessory spoke first. It was shouting at the lady; it sounded really, really angry. The doll flinched at the sound, covering its ears instinctively as it cowered in pain. The lady- did the elder say her name was Lady Verity? Lady Verity seemed to notice, a sharp reaction as a doll stood up from the audience. It delivered a sharp whip, aimed directly at the angry man's lips. "Silence is golden. Please do not shout in my theatre." The elder seemed displeased too, crossing its arms as it leaned back. More words were said, but in its distress, the doll didn't catch any of it.

...

And just like a stage play, each actor disappeared from the stage in a gruesome manner. The first door, that girl with the fun hat... "She went through the orange door." The orange door? It looked at its elder, tilting its head. Orange? Was the girl orange, too? Seemed a bit matchy-matchy if so. Maybe colors made the scene look better? It wasn't sure. That girl with the orange door, the doll wouldn't lie. It turned to its elder, cupping its hands over its ear as it whispered something into its ear. "Ah, the scene was too far away? You're not sure what happened..." It fell silent for a moment before waving down a doll assistant. Whispering to the doll, she seemed to nod before running off. Then, leaning over to its companion, it mused. "Give the staff a moment... as for that girl's fate... hmm." Raising its hands up, it cupped both its hands together. Then, it used its cupped hands to grab the doll by its head, playfully growling along. "And then her head came right off! You're lucky my version is make-believe." Was this its idea of a joke?

It was kind of funny.

Then, the girl came back, holding something small and slim. Handing it off to the elder, it chuckled as it pat her head. Watching as she walked off into the back area of the theatre, the elder carefully handed the odd slim item to the doll. Holding it in its hands, it looked at the elder in confusion. "It'll help you see what everyone down there is seeing, without you-" A large crashing sound interrupted its thoughts, as shouting and screaming filled the theatre. Loud crashing and cracking sounds. Glancing down at the screen, it could get a closer look at what was occurring down there. Did a fight break out in the theatre? It didn't even know that was allowed.

The other dolls were breaking free from their chairs, the humans and the followers getting into a fight. Rubbing its head in confusion, it looked up at its elder. If looks could kill... it wondered if it would have killed those three humans remaining several times over. The doll couldn't help itself as it reached over, its small hands wrapping around its arm. It smiled again, a smile so sweet it was practically disarming. Then, it nodded. It nodded a lot. "Do you believe this is part of the act?" The doll laughed as it nodded. It enjoyed the strange happenings. "... well, I suppose it would be hilarious if you thought about it in such a framework." Reaching up, the elder entity patted the head of the doll with another soft smile.

"Even if this performance is going off the cuff, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. As ever silent as you are."

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Solace chuckled as he looked down at the group before him. "That memory... it lies deep in my mind. A strange woman, an even stranger elder entity, a theatre full of strangely dressed humans. And the four doors. All tucked away with several of Remnant's other, unwanted memories. Although none of them are nearly as interesting as that, even if I can't remember what happens afterwards." It chuckled again, pointing at Alice and the two humans. It seemed unstable. "These memories probably aren't even mine! But, I'm happy to take care of them."

...

It was gone in a blink. Then, feeling a hand on its shoulder, Alice yelped. A forceful shove sent him fumbling onto the ground, a whimper occurring as he collided onto the ground. Lucille shrieked as she collided with the blackboard roughly, Makoto rushing to help her up. Why the fuck did it move so fast? That wasn't much fair... "But, I'm curious now! How does your door reflect you?"

Tapping its head, Solace chuckled. It was devious. An eye opened, the x shape pulsating wildly. "Do you fear it? Being alone? Stranded? Dying, just one step away from help? If you died in a crowded room where no one else knew you were there... does that image scare you?" The question caught Lucille off guard as she clung onto Makoto's arm. She frowned- no, it was more of a scowl than a frown. Disdain painted her usually delicate features, her answer locked behind cold, analytical bars. "What about you? A fear of the dark? Not knowing what's in the room with you, of not knowing you're not truly alone, doesn't it scare you? The dark is so much scarier when you don't know what it's hiding. Oh, the dark, I bet it scares you more than you're willing to admit." Its fingers made contact with Makoto's chin. Lucille wanted to smack it, but found her body was almost. paralyzed. She felt not stuck... no, she couldn't move her body whatsoever, despite how badly she really wanted it. What was causing this, she wondered.

"And you!" Solace's shoe collided with Alice's small form on the floor as it stepped on the smaller entity's neck. Despite everything, despite the desperate desire to flee, to run away, to do anything, all it could do was lie there, at the mercy of an entity only made to kill. "I don't even have to ask. I know you're afraid. I know the idea of failing, oh, it paralyzes you. Failing, and not even getting to pass in peace? That gnawing sense of doom before something tears that pretty head off from the shadows? I know it terrifies you." Pressing down on his neck, it let out a husky, deranged chuckle. Slowly, steadily, Alice was sure of it.

It was losing its fucking mind.

"You should worry more about yourself and less about things you’ll never understand. The next entity whose attention you draw might not be as benevolent! You’d do well to remember that."

...

Solace had disappeared without much more than a final word. The paralysis had too, the moment it departed. Lucille was confident it was the source of the paralysis; it had to have been.

"It overwhelmed us pretty easily..." Makoto couldn't help but comment. It was frightening how that entire exchange had gone down, he thought to himself. And how easily it subdued them without laying so much of a hand on them whatsoever. It... scared him.

An entity they didn't understand much about. And somehow, they came out of that and understood even less. "I just can't believe it just slipped past all our alarms and radars... and here I thought we were the top of the entity security game!" Lucille's frustration was palpable. Alice's eyes stared down at the floor. It made no effort to get up off the floor whatsoever. No, its mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"What does the never-ending act have to do with anything? I don't get it." Alice scratched his lip with a frown, his head spinning with information. Lucille couldn't help herself; despite Solace's words, a deep curiosity burned inside her. A desire for knowledge, for understanding. "What even is the never-ending act? How about you start there?" Looking up, Alice paused a moment. Then, rolling onto its back, it lay splayed out on the floor. Placing its hands on its chest, Alice looked at the ceiling.

"It's like a human theatre troupe, in a way? Except the troupe was made up of its ringmaster, Lady Verity, and her many, many living dolls. Most of the more modern entities consider it the predecessor to the oldest known entity sub-group, the Mourning Actors." Alice's eyes shifted, looking at Makoto, who had sat down on the floor beside him. "And the entity we saw? And the doll Solace was talking about?" Alice frowned as he shook his head. "I don't know. That's the issue I'm currently facing. There's no way that elder entity could have been Remnant, and by that logic, there's no way that doll could have been Solace. The never-ending act is older than even Faker is. Older than I am!" Lucille picked up a piece of chalk, writing something down on the blackboard. Alice's eyes shifted over out of curiosity. "What are you doing?" "You're a little preoccupied on the floor. So I'm continuing your chart for you. What's the connection between Remnant and Solace anyway?"

Alice paused, its hands rubbing against each other. "They're kind of like... the physical body and the mind/memories, if they were two separate people? Solace is the host of the memories Remnant carries around." Scratching her chin, Lucille wrote it down carefully. "Two parts of the same whole. But, the entity we saw in those memories- and the entity we had the point of view of- precedes even the earliest known entity variant." Leaning on the edge of the blackboard, Lucille laughed.

"Precedes them or not, Solace had the memories of that doll. Even if those memories seemed to be incomplete from its retelling." Makoto couldn't help himself from pointing that out. An odd detail of the story, sure. "Didn't you guys notice it? The mannerisms of the doll and Solace were very similar. Solace copies humans the same way the doll copied its elder." Rubbing his chin slowly, he closed his eyes. It couldn't have been a coincidence, he thought to himself. The imitation tactic was far too similar to be one. Humans adapt in similar ways. They copy the world around them; the doll did the same. "Is it possible that... Solace's existence isn't new? It's just being continued through a separate medium." "Like a ghost?"

Alice paused a moment, blinking slowly as he pondered the question. "It's likely more complex than that." He finally spoke after a moment. "Solace doesn't exist without Remnant. Without Remnant, Solace is nothing more than just a concept or an idea. Facts like that can't just be overruled." Then, turning its head, it sighed a bit. "But... being continued through a separate, distinct medium... It's possible."

"It doesn't seem like the other entities thus far." "You can say that again."

It still bothered Alice, though. The never-ending act was one thing. But that elder entity and that doll... it was something different entirely. Something never before documented. What was he supposed to do with this information, realistically speaking? He didn't have the answers to any of these questions. No matter how badly he wanted to.

The answers lie in an act that's long since concluded.

ENDING TWO OF THREE ♪

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CHARACTER CAST ARCHIVE ♪

"Makoto" - An assistant professor, interviewing an entity to learn more about the world unseen by humans. He's often quiet and reserved, but deeply insightful.

"Professor Lucille" - The professor in charge of record keeping. She was the one who reached out to the legacy of Alice, in hopes of getting an interview to update the institution's compendium of entity knowledge.

Legacy of Alice - An entity related to the original Alice, and all that remains after the original was killed by its counterpart, an entity named Erebus. It's put its long-lived life into researching entities like itself, gaining a wide and unrivaled database in the process.

CONTAINS STORY SNIPPETS FROM THE METHOD TRACKS:

Track Two: Sinister

Track Three: RUNAWAY

REFERENCES THE THEATRE OF DARKNESS:

Acts One through Three in depth

Acts Four and Five in reference

Majin/The Round-A-Bout - An entity that resides on a racecourse like space, who has to make a tough call about the human it tried so hard to protect.

Boundary/The Ranger - The entity that roams between spaces. There isn't much known about it, besides its role as a bounty hunter of sorts.

Tyler B. - A professional news caster who wound up stuck in the Round-A-Bout racecourse. His headphones exploded, causing him to lose a majority of his hearing.

Solace - An entity that seems fundamentally different from its peers, from the way it interacts with others to its very origins.

Hannah C. - A human, unfortunate enough to run into Solace after an unfortunate reveal of her fiancé cheating on her. She was drunk when running into Solace, which is believed to have been her downfall.

Lady Verity and The Never-Ending Act - An entity running a theatre troupe. While it does not exist in the current and modern times, it is believed to be the inspiration for the Mourning Actors Troupe.

I used to spend so much time when I was younger, staring out at the glistening night sky. Pondering on how beautiful the universe was... and wondering if I could have ever gotten to be a part of something so perfectly painted.

Now, I can only stare in awe at how easy it is for some people to destroy that perfect painted night sky.

"What are you?" The painter's eyes fascinated him beyond measure. The man pushed his blue hair aside as the painter held up a dry paintbrush to the side of his face, one eye squinted, another eye staring the entity down like an unfinished painting. "My name is... I don't have a name, actually! As for what I am, I'm..." The entity's fingers poked lightly at the paintbrush, feeling the bristles between his white gloves. "I don't know what I am, actually. You're a human painter, but I'm not human! Nor a painter, for that matter." The girl's head cocked to the side, her wrist turning as she pushed the dry paintbrush over his nose. It tickled his nose, scrunching up as if it were trying not to sneeze on the painterly girl. "I prefer the term "fictitious imagineer" actually."

He rubbed his nose between his gloved fingers, a small snicker emerging from his throat. "A fictitious imagineer... That's quite the interesting title to give yourself! Do you think you could give me one?" The girl's open eye squinted, her dusk blue eye focused on the blue man. Her paintbrush danced along his features, as if the artist was contemplating. Thinking. Investigating. "You will be named "Legacy". You will be the first of your kind, something never before seen and impossible to forget."

"Fascinating. Legacy... I like that! You really are an imagineer!" Rubbing its chin, Legacy pondered briefly. The first of its kind, something never before seen... something impossible to forget. He liked the sounds of that.

...

He scooted closer to the painter- "Mime", as he learned she seemed to enjoy being called. Legacy found himself visiting her often, fascinated by her paintings, her work. Her own version of the world they all shared.

The workshop was already littered with paintings, ideas, artwork that it could only be found from a painter as imaginative as herself. Forests, racecar tracks, churches, and window-filled homes. He couldn't help himself; it was captivated by the painter's brush strokes.

"What's that?" His gloves pointed at one painting, a dark and dusty forest, covered in fog. "It's different from your stars and pretty space moons." Mime didn't spare Legacy as much as even a small glance, her paintbrush carefully stroking white paint on her canvas. "It's a forest." Well, he figured as much. Forests were pretty recognizable, even for an alien form like himself. He thinks, anyway. "It's just that. A forest in the wintertime. Winter woods. There's nothing special about it." His fingers lingered on the painting, a thumb lightly hovering off to the side of the painting for a moment. "It feels like... It's missing something, in a way? I mean, I'm no artist." Legacy's green eyes focused on the painting, gloved hands gently picking it up as he held it up to the light. Mime glanced back, a brow raised. Then, lowering her brush slightly, her lips pursed. "What would you add? If you were an artist." "Maybe something in the background? Like a man... holding a staff of some kind? Oh! And a lantern on it!"

"Fascinating. Why a man with a staff?" Mime's head lifted up fully, seeming captivated by the idea. "Just kind of what came to my mind! Felt fitting for a forest scene- Why? Was my idea that bad?" Legacy scratched his head nervously for a moment, worried he had indirectly trampled over her artistic vision with such a suggestion. He almost felt like a fool for a moment, but seeing the glisten in the imagineer's eyes left him wondering. "I'd like to hear more of your ideas. That's all." She held her paintbrush in her outstretched hand, prompting the entity to grasp it within his own. It felt unsteady, like a powerful item was placed in his inventory. He focused on the brush, waving it around in the air briefly as he pondered. "More of my ideas, huh? I really am no creative, but..." The paintbrush spun in his hand as he tapped the wooden end against the painter's forehead lightly. "Listen to this story! And then, paint whatever scene it makes you feel."

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That boy had always hated going out into the woods during the late-night snowstorms. Really, he'd give anything to avoid getting stuck outside in the cold and harsh storms, but he knew when father required something, he had no choice but to listen. She could be quite unruly otherwise. Her hand would stroke through his messy, tangled hair, gentle yet firm, and he'd melt for her needs almost immediately.

"Father, was it just meat from the market you wanted?" His coat was wrapped tightly around his small form, his brown eyes focused on the brown-haired woman standing at the edge of the kitchen. His "father"- although traditionally, he was sure she was societally more of a "mother", but he wasn't going to get into specifics with her. No, not again, not after that soup versus stew debate. He was many things, but he was no fool. A nod came from the demure woman, a soft hum in verbal reply. His gloved hands wrapped around the small handheld lantern, and for a moment, he had briefly regretted his caving in to such desires. "I'll grab just enough for the stew tonight, then. The storm is raging particularly terribly tonight, but I know that greedy vendor will brave any weather if it means he'll make a sale." He was teasing, fully aware of how Father was part of the problem. Of how he was a part of the problem. That greedy vendor will brave the weather because he knows he will brave the weather. He made no effort to change, however. Father's stew was too good to ignore! (And he was banned from the kitchen for reasons beyond him; he simply had no clue how he had managed to cut open his hand with a butter knife, of all things.) Be safe, Wren, he heard on his way out, the voice slightly muffled by his earmuffs.

The storm bit even worse than he had initially been prepared for. The snow gathered so much in the wind that he could barely see before him. Lucky for him, he had trekked this trail so many times that he was sure he could walk it in his sleep. Still, being unable to see in front of him, it made him deeply nervous. It unsettled him down to his core.

Only two kinds of men would brave such awful weather. Mad men... and dead men.

His boots crunched as he weathered the snow and the wind, his chest tightening at the ungodlike chill. He's been through this song and dance many, many times before... but why did this one seem so bad? It was almost like the world itself was trying to keep everyone out. He struggled to stand sometimes, the wind so strong and sharp that he worried it'd blow him away entirely.

His arm covered his face instinctively. It was not like he could really see where it was he was walking, either way. Would it have been mean for him, if he told Father that the butcher wasn't out today? Would a little white lie save him from the massive white storm threatening to blow him away? Would Father ever-

"Hello?" The sound of a small girl's voice snapped him out of his own head, though he struggled to tell where the voice was coming from. In the densely packed snow, he could barely see a thing. He clung onto his hat, his brown eyes frantically scanning the white plane. Who the hell left a kid outside in this kind of weather? He might have also been a young person, but at least he came out here willing, he thought. A sob carried on the wind, causing his chest to tighten a little. Was there really a little girl outside, in weather like this?

His feet dragged through the snow- "It's so cold..." -and towards wherever the sound emanated from. He stumbled off the beaten path, not out of instinct but something darker. Something more raw. "Hello-? Where are you?" Wren's voice felt more foreign to his own ears; however, he was deeply unsure why that was. A small gasp emerged on the wind, which he could only assume was the girl. "Hello?" She sounded closer, at least.

He stumbled over something, buried deep, deep within the snow. His chest collided with the snow, the cold burning the exposed skin on his face. He coughed as he sat up, frantically wiping the snow from his face in panic. "Cold!" He shuddered lightly, carefully wiping the snow off his bangs. "Are you still there, kid?" "I'm over here..." The voice drifted off from the side of him. He trudged through the snow carefully, reaching an opening of trees as the snow began to clear- just a little bit. His gloves gripped onto the nearby tree as he continued to wipe snow from his lashes. A chill went up his spine as he felt a small pair of hands grip onto his side. His head snapped as he looked down, a small child snuggled up beneath his arm, clinging onto his side. Part of him felt disbelief. Whose child was this? Why was she out here all alone? "You're really here..." Her voice was... eeriely soft. He lowered his arm slightly, brushed the snow off her hair lightly. Bending down, he leaned forward slightly. He wanted to get a good look at her face, maybe she was someone he knew. After all, it sounded like she knew him.

...

The girl's grey eyes stared back at him, a blue frost spread across her face. A quick glance overall worried him- she was not prepared to be out in this kind of weather whatsoever. She has practically buried herself beneath his coat, a chill creeping up his spine. He could feel the cold radiating off the poor girl through his base layer. He couldn't begin to imagine how she must have felt at that moment.

"You're perfect."

The words caught him off guard, his head rolling as he stared down at her. "Excuse me?" The girl had grinned widely, something unnerving about the smile she wore. He was perfect... what did that even mean? Especially from someone as small as her- did she even know what she meant by that? Her small hands clasped around his arm, trying to pull herself up onto it. He fumbled, gripping onto the tree with his other hand for support. What the hell was she doing? "I'm sorry, you're just so... nice!" Thanks? Did others ignore her cries, he wondered briefly.

He froze as he felt something wrap around his leg, slipping under his leg warmer and pinching tightly. Pain shot through his leg as he looked down in panic. A tree branch- it was almost like it had come alive, wrapping itself around him. To root him. Wren struggled as he tugged on his leg, blood seeping into the root. Admittedly, the root felt a lot weaker than Wren imagined, snapping pretty easily as he pulled his foot back sharply. The girl seemed to frown, the sudden force causing her to let go. "The forest can't take you yet... I want to learn more!"

He didn't bother to learn what that meant. Hopeless survival kicked in.

...

The snow flurry was so thick that he could have sworn the forest itself was angry. The girl was crying in his arms as he held onto her as tight as he could, and he could hear something behind him. Something that sounded... not natural, almost haunting. Something so fast, he wasn't sure if he was outrunning it or if he was just delaying a terrible fate. He would be a fool if he looked back.

He kept running. He wasn't really sure where he was going. The forest looked foreign to him. Was this even his home? No, no... it had to have been. There was only one forest, after all. The forest in which he and his father lived, with the town market only a twenty-minute walk away. Maybe it was his mind; his panic. His dread. Why didn't it look familiar? Why did he feel so... lost?

He stumbled to a stop, his hand lying on a tree's bark as he took a moment to catch his breath. His eyes shifted slightly, falling on the tree he supported himself on. It made him freeze. They didn't have these kinds of trees in their forest. They didn't have this kind of tree anywhere near his home. He wasn't sure what kind of tree it was, but he was sure what it wasn't. And he was sure this wasn't home.

"Woah! You're so fast!" Despite it all, the girl sounded as if she had stars in her eyes. Did she even notice the monster? Did she even think it was real? "Uh... thanks?" It felt easier not to question it, childlike innocence was often beyond explanation most times. He carefully adjusted the girl's hair with his gloved fingers, his lips pursed for a moment before speaking. "Are you cold? You don't seem like you're dressed for this weather." His mind hadn't fully bothered to wait for an answer, the cold bitting into his hands as he pulled his gloves overtop the girl's small, shaky hands. "They're so soft!" Her hands stretched beneath the gloves, and Wren couldn't help but watch as she rubbed the knitted gloves against her face. Patting her own hair lightly, she stared up at him for a moment. "I don't really know. I can't feel my body!" His heart dropped as he fitted his hat over her head, his hands trembling lightly as he let out a shaky breath. "That's not good, kid..." He shook his head lightly, cuddling the girl close to his chest. Then, a thought occured in his head, his eyes focusing down on her. "What's your name? I don't think I ever got to ask." He almost felt embarassed at the fact he never asked till now. Father would have lectured him if she knew, she didn't take in and raise an inconsiderant fool. "My name is Wendy!"

Wendy? He could work with that. Eyeing her as she tugged on the overflow of his coat, he watched as she wrapped herself in the excess. Her head nuzzled against his chest, he paused. His chest felt tight, although he wasn't sure why.

A light touch against the bark, he couldn't stop himself from examining the wood. Dark wood... skinny branches... they seemed to hold large amounts of snow abnormally well. His head ached as he rushed through his memories. Tree knowledge was never his best subject, admittedly; they were all so similar in his head that for the longest, he struggled to tell them apart. But even he knew these weren't the birch trees he had come to familiarize himself with. These trees- a mystery. But they were not in the forest he called home. Not at all. Only one question remained in his head.

How did he get here?

Not having an answer to that question is what frustrated him the most.

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"It's an unexpectedly sad story." Mime's fingers tapped her lips as she pondered the story's cliffhanger. Her dusk blue eyes stared at the ground in deep, keen thought, as if she were thinking intensely on the question. "Like he was taken to another world completely. Out of his home world, and stranded in a similar but drastically different one." Legacy placed his hands behind his head as he shrugged. Legacy's head cocked to the side ever so slightly, his gaze pointed somewhere outside the studio. He lingered in the silence for a moment, his lips parting slightly as he chuckled. "Do you not like it?" "I pity that boy. What was his name- Wren?" Mime's hand hovered above her chest for a moment, a pained expression forming over her face. "I feel bad for his parental guardian, too. Imagine sending your son out into the storm, not knowing you may never see him again." A pained expression formed on the imagineer's face for a moment, and then, her face lit up as she picked up a spare paintbrush.

"Does the boy live in the end?" "Likely not. The girl was just a ploy in the story, only meant to distract him as the woods devoured whatever was left of his mind." It was poetic, he believed. It was his humanity that drove him into a world that would rob him of it, turning him into nothing more than a husk to further its own schemes. If she believed it was a story created on the spot, would he be wrong for allowing her to believe that? Would he have been cruel, telling her forgotten history like a fairytale? To make light of someone who will never come home, all because he loved the world too much? Because Legacy loved this world so much, despite the cold and lonely corpses it left behind?

Mime's paintbrush- it was always like he was watching magic unfold as she created something when there was nothing. The messy brown hair of the husk, the lack of proper gear, a lantern attached to a rotten stick... Legacy rubbed his chin slowly as he observed. "You should add a scarf. A blue one." The words came out before he could register them. He remembered that day out in the Winterwoods, the blue scarf around the creature's neck that roams between the trees, like a mindless animal. Unconscious of the fact that it existed in its own body.

He pitied it, but for a long time, it was all he could do. Pity.

He saw the look Mime gave him. Not one of disbelief or one without care. It was laced with an almost fatal curiosity, one that gnawed at his mind. "Why blue?" "Would you believe me if I told you the truth behind the matter?" The puzzled look on the painter's face told him everything, and for a moment, he pondered whether he really should break the fairy tale's illusion. He knew it best.

Reality was a killer.

"I have another story with the same character." He felt like a liar. "And, pink and blue go pretty well together, right?"

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"I did it, Cassidy. I got a scholarship to a music arts program! I wish you were still here to see me soar." The girl couldn't help herself. Even though she was talking to a grave, it was the person within the grave that meant so much to her. Even if she wasn't here anymore- even if she hasn't been here for a long, long time now, to Robin, her accomplishments in life were as much Cassidy's as they were her own.

It helped keep the memories of her beloved best friend alive. Especially with how sudden and gruesome her passing was... she never got to say her goodbyes.

Her hand covered her forehead slightly, dusk blue eyes glancing up at the sky. It was getting dark outside, she thought to herself. That meant it would get cold out soon. Oh, how she was terrible with the cold, she thought to herself. She remembered how she always got sick the moment the snow began to fall. Andie used to make fun of her so hard. (And then, he'd get sick too. Baby sister germs were no joke.)

And now, she's the only one still left. Her childhood disappeared piece by piece until there was nothing remaining. "I should go... I have a performance with the band tomorrow, getting sick is the last thing I should do- if I can help it." She waved to the grave, as if she were bidding farewell to an old friend. Perhaps she was. Even if that friend was long since gone.

...

Her engine began to sputter on the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before all noise ceased completely. Hitting her wheel, the guitarist panicked for a moment. "Oh, no no no! Come on, stupid car!" Despite her pleas, the car refused to turn back on. Sinking back in her seat, Robin sat for a moment. Just her luck, wasn't it? Glancing at her phone, she pondered. Andrea's home wasn't... terribly far, was it? Robin was sure she could make it in time if she ran there. Oh, but her guitar and her notes... she needed those for the performance tomorrow. Could she run with those on her back? Now that she was unsure of. Maybe a paced stroll wouldn't be so bad?

Her mind wandered as she glanced down at her phone. The screensaver hurt in moments like this. She could remember it pretty clearly. From her mother's view, this was exactly how her eldest had disappeared. He was there one morning, telling her how he loved her. He was reported missing by the next.

He was never found. Not even after 6 years, not even a trace of him. He was here one moment, and the next? It was almost like he never existed to begin with.

"Hey mom? Yeah, I was going to come home... my car broke down, though." She didn't want to repeat that pain, not a second time. She had no plans of going anywhere... she was just a bit tied up at the moment. "Yeah, I can send you the location, hang tight. You'll even pay for the tow? Man, you're the best!"

...

Two weeks.

She'd make one wrong move, and two weeks would flash by before her eyes.

It really only takes one misstep. Did he make that same choice? That same mistake?

...

click! Robin pulled her phone back as she glanced over the selfie she took. Sending it to her mother as proof she was okay, she pondered a moment. She had a strange way of coping with uncomfortable situations. She was stranded at least 30 minutes in the middle of nowhere, frankly. She was closer to the dead than she was anything living. And yet, there she was, taking selfies in the dark and snowy road inside her cold, broken-down car, like shit was sweet.

She sighed a bit, holding up her phone meekly. "Is this really my normal...?" She couldn't help herself. Honestly, she talked to herself so much it became normal, but in a moment like this, she couldn't help but notice how out of place she truly felt. How foreign she felt as a person.

She glanced at her own image in the camera, her fingers lightly patting her cheeks. That's when she saw it, something small but something important. Turning in her seat, Robin placed a hand over her head. Squinting her eyes, she leaned into her phone. "Hey Siri... send a text to mom. There's someone else out here in the snow."

Rummaging through her backseat, she pulled out a small beige and pink coat. Climbing over her middle council, Robin stuck her head around. However, what she was aiming for didn't seem to be there. Only her guitar case, with her wooden guitar instead, and a small but long fluffy brown blanket. "Where's my other coat...? Damn, did I really leave it at home? Fuck." Her blanket was tangled in the straps of the case; it'd take too long to try and untangle them here and now, she thought. Grabbing her guitar case and her coat, Robin pushed her door open carefully. She glanced across the road before running into the woods.

On the other side of the woods stood a boy, one without shoes or any kind of protective winter gear. Messy, messy hair. It was almost like the boy had come out of nowhere, she thought to herself. She was worried. "Hey! Hey, are you okay?" The boy didn't answer, slumped against the tree she originally noticed in the background of her selfie. He seemed unresponsive, which worried her even more. Placing her guitar case on the ground, she fumbled with the blanket for a moment. Finally freeing it from her case, she wrapped it around his shoulders lightly. Reaching up, she carefully wiped snow away from his bangs. "Can you hear me?" Her hands clasped around his own, trembling and discolored. Likely from the cold, she imagined. Again, he didn't seem to respond, as if he weren't... even conscious. Robin's brows furrowed as she pulled out her phone.

He didn't seem much older than she was... maybe a year or two older? Flicking her phone on, she prepared herself to call the emergency line. However, she froze. "My time display...?" Instead of the time displayed at the top of her phone, it was only dashes in its place. Like the time of day... couldn't be found. On closer inspection... the actual date wasn't there either? What in the world? Even her phone pad was all blank dashes... hell, it wouldn't even let her press the buttons. Looking up, she could feel panic setting on her features. Glancing back at her car, she made the worst discovery of all.

Where she knew her car was... stood nothing at all. Just an empty, snow-covered road. Not even footprints in the snow. "Whaaat the hell?" The air stung her mouth as she spoke. Like a sharp blade cutting into the sensitive flesh. Her head felt like it was spinning on a swivel, so much so that she had to hold it to stop the spinning. Self-inflicted spinning.

Then, she glanced back at the boy. Cold and unresponsive, just like before. Her hands trembled as she carefully scooted closer to him, entwinning her fingers through the soft fabric. Tears slipped through the corners of her ducts, a hiccup escaping from her throat. She tugged on the blanket meekly, pulling the top of the blanket over the boy's head. "Y... you should keep your head warm! Like this!" She tried her best to keep it together, despite how scared she was. But tears overtook her vision, her eyes burning slightly. Rapidly wiping her face with her arm, Robin sniffled.

That's when she felt it, a cold but soft touch on her chest. Confused, she sniffled as she looked up. Horror replaced the sorrow on her gentle features as the boy suddenly shoved her back. Much harder than anything she'd ever felt, with much more strength than someone in his condition should have even had. But what scared her the most was the sharp wooden stick piercing the area where she once sat. Did he know?

"You should probably run."

She didn't need to be told twice, her hands were clinging onto the straps of her case as she stumbled onto the snow-covered road. Her eyes trembled as she stared at the boy- was it even a boy? No, it seemed more like a monster, a creature. The way it contorted as it picked up its staff from the floor felt unnatural, slumping over like its muscle control had all but decayed. But what scared her the most... was how there was no one there as the staff rose from the ground. The boy- gone.

Was he only a lure?

Was she a fool? For wanting to help him?

The monster cocked its head slightly, a wolf's skull mask on its face, obscuring its facial features. The boy and the monster looked similar, Robin thought. Similar, yet... grotesquely different. A snarl escaped from beneath the masked figure, almost like an animal's growl. The ones that warned of impending danger.

...

Robin underestimated how hard it was to run in her school uniform's leather flats. She also underestimated how fast that thing really was. "STOP IT!" She screamed as it tackled her to the ground, her guitar case flying off into the near distance. She struggled beneath the beast's grasp, desperately trying to free herself from its hold. Desperately trying to survive. It growled again, and she swore she saw the mask move with the growl. Like it was alive. Its hands clasped around her neck, cold but firm, and for a moment, she feared this was it. This was her end.

Hitting it anywhere wasn't working. The mask made it impossible to get to its face. And it was inhumanely strong, overwhelming the guitarist with ease. Tears pricked her eyes, but that's when she noticed it. Her blanket was still sitting around its shoulders... her fingers gripped onto the blanket as she pulled it over its head and mask. Her hands tugged on the blanket as she struggled. In an odd way... it seemed to work. The creature growled as it suddenly let go of her neck, clawing frantically at the blanket covering its face. The roar was almost deafening.

She crawled from beneath the creature's chest while still holding onto the blanket. Then, with all her strength, she shoved the creature's head, sending it fumbling onto its side. Dazed, the creature groaned as it slumped onto the ground. Then, frantically, it began to claw at the blanket again. She didn't wait to see what else happened. She picked up her case and ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Her chest burned as she stumbled to a stop. Her entire body burned from her fleeing. Her hands clasped over her chest, her knees buckling slightly as she cried in fear. Her hands trembled like nothing else mattered. Gripping onto her case's strap, her eyes scanned the village she fumbled across. A large wooden sign stood at the edge of the village, reading a set of words in glistening golden ink.

Welcome to the Winterwoods Village.

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"He became a ploy for someone else to fall for, just like he fell for a ploy himself?" She almost wanted to applaud the twist. Both the victim and the monster... the story fascinated her in a twisted way. It was poetic, in a sense. Legacy chuckled solemnly, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared outside. "Pretty cool, right? At least, I think so." He wanted their story to live on, even if it was just seemed like a fictitious interpretation of it.

It was real, but she didn't need to know that, right?

His gloves scratched at his chin lightly as he pondered the story, the characters, the fates of the unfortunate. The boy who never gets to come home. The girl who disappeared and reappeared without a trace. The observer, who knew but couldn't truly say anything. "Will the girl be alright?" Mime's question snapped him out of his own head, the entity's head turning to face hers. It cocked to the side, his hair curling against his face as he tapped his chin. "Probably? I always imagined she would overcome it in the end, the monster in the woods." He wasn't lying, of course. That girl created a miracle. She had come out of a hopeless situation alive. Legacy's hands moved as he held the paintbrush between his fingers. "Ahh, but I really am no creative. I can't imagine for the life of me. How do you do it?"

The imagineer paused, lowering her paintbrush for a moment. A puzzled expression formed on her lips, a small twitch in her fingers. Then, tilting her head to the side, Mime pondered. Debated. "Anyone can be a creative. These stories, they fascinate me. And, they must have fascinated you, too, for your mind to tell me these stories on a whim." Tapping her lips, Mime's eyes shifted. Her eyes stared at the ground for a moment before suddenly reaching her hand over. Gently, she stroked a gloved hand through his blue hair. A smile formed on her features, something that was more than just "joy".

This was what he traveled through this world for. The light in a loving humanity. This was what he looked for in the world around him.

"You're funny. It's that attitude I envy especially." Legacy's fingers lay at the end of the painting, his eyes focused in on the painterly moon. This was what had initially drawn him to the imagineer's workshop. This was what prompted him to linger around her, absorb her presence, invest in her paintings and her stories. "Your moon is so pretty." His hands twitched slightly as he pulled back, clasping onto his shirt tightly. His brows furrowed in frustration as he let out a sigh he hadn't realized he was holding in. "How come our moon can't look like this? It's so dreamlike." Raising a brow, Mime shook her head. "But, isn't the real thing just as beautiful? Even if it's out of reach and different from what we imagined?"

Different from what we imagined... huh. His eyes glanced down, his vision fixated on his own body. Out of reach. He wouldn't lie, even though he emulated the humane form perfectly; being a real one was just like the moon. Out of reach. Out of his own grasp. His brows furrowed again, a pain settling in his chest.

Then, a thought popped into his head. He wasn't the only thing out there, pretending to be a human but always out of reach of what it truly meant to be one. His eyes lit up like the stars, his head turning towards the artist. "Can I tell you one more story? I know I've talked loads today, but it just came to my mind." No words were needed; he already knew the answer.

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"Captivatingly capturing." It was mocking her. It had to be.

Blood splattered against the lookalike's face, golden jewelry stained in crimson. A small, bloody dagger gripped in its hand as it stared down at the girl curled up at its feet. Clasping onto her neck, blood seeping through the trembling fingers, soaking into her once pristine white shirt. The girl trembled as she tried to scoot away from the imposter, the poser, a fear overwhelming her senses when her legs wouldn't work as she was pleading for them to.

Raising a bloody thumb to its lips, it slowly licked the blood from the tip of its finger. "Why do you look so scared? Didn't you want to see him again? I'm doing you a service." It even sounded like him, down to the varying inflection in its tone. The enuciation. The well-timed pauses. It allowed time between its words, letting its voice sink deep and resonate within her very soul. Cassidy's hands trembled as it bent down onto its knees, dipping its fingers into the gash on its own neck, a red liquid dripping from the gash. She had done that, yet... it seemed to barely phase it. It moved slowly, carefully placing its bloodied fingers against her lips. Smearing it against her lips, the lookalike smiled gently. A fake tenderness radiated from its face.

"Admit it. You missed him so badly, you didn't care if the "Andie" that stood before you was real or not." Its fingers lightly touched her chin, tilting her head up towards him. "You knew it should've been impossible. How am I at fault when you knew better than that?" Cassidy's fingers trembled, tears welling up in her eyes as it lifted up the blade against her neck. It traveled down her torso before settling right about her skirt's waistband. Lying its head against her forehead, it closed its eyes for a moment.

A sharp pain flooded her nerves, squirming around as the blade pierced through her clothes, tearing into her stomach. "!" Choking on the pain, Cassidy cried out. Her hands struck at the lookalike carelessly, terror overtaking her mind. One hand clasped around her neck, the other twisting the blade. Piercing. Plunging. Eviserating.

Her mind felt dazed, but the lookalike's silence dazed her even more. The hand clamped around her neck had moved, gently cradling her head against its chest, a slow and steady breathing coming from that... pretender. "Why are you..." "Doing this?" Was she that predictable, she wondered. Her head rolled back, a weak wheeze escaping her lips as he gently brushed her bangs back. Mismatched eyes stared back at her in her fading vision, an unusually soft smile on its face. "Because what's borne of agony is so much stronger than love."

Her head ached. "I did the same thing to you that I do to each one of my victims. Does that surprise you?" Victims... at least it wasn't deluding itself. But it still sent shivers down her spine to hear it framed like that. Not friends, not companions... victims. "Where did you... get his... face..... from...." Her voice was slipping away. All her fear and panic had subsided as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body- was it shutting down on her? Was the toll of this fight too much for her to handle?

"My other half gave it to me. I think someone like you would refer to it as a gift? Isn't Paranoia lovely?" Leaving the blade twisted in her stomach, it lifted its fingers to its chin, gently rubbing it with a hum. "You're going to die anyway, I think it's only fair to answer her dying questions, no?" It had mused to itself, chuckling slowly. Was her death... really all that amusing to it? "I'm.... dy...ing?" The confusion in her voice- it only made it laugh more. Like it had just been told a hilarious joke. "I'm... dying..." Her eyes struggled to focus, a massive blur of red staining her school uniform below. Her hands trembled as she touched the wound weakly. "Yes! You are dying! Isn't that wonderful?" As hard as she tried, she couldn't detect malice or hatred on the pretender's face. Was it because she never knew what such emotions looked like on his face? Or was she mistaking the relentless nature of this creature for something it wasn't?

Her eyes rolled back, landing on her bloodied gardening shears. Her fingers twitched as she stared at the slowly emerging sun. It was... oddly beautiful in a way. The golden hue of a new day. The faint sounds of people... talking?

Huh.

Huh?

"Cassidy never returned home last night! She's only 15, I haven't the slightest clue where she could have gone! Oh, where is my sweet baby girl?" "Mo...ther?" She had instinctively reached out towards the voice. The warm voice, the one who held her when she cried, lifted her up when she had fallen down, the one who gave her everything and only asked for one thing in return. Love. Tears welled up in her eyes, her arm lazily reaching towards the voice. The sound. Mother. "Mama..." The tears streamed down her face, a curious expression flickering across the pretender's face. "You won't make it before the day breaks." Its smile remained, although there was a sadder pretense to it this time. Almost something akin to... pity. "Your mother is just another random lady who'll have lost her daughter. You're not special, Cassidy. Neither was Andie. She'll mourn, and then, she'll move on. Just like everyone else." The words hit her like ice. It stung in a way like nothing else had so far.

Not the reveal of it being a fake.

Not the reveal of Andie being forever gone.

Not the pain of the blade.

Not even her impending death.

...

She wasn't sure where it had come from, the sudden burst of strength, of energy. It happened in an instant, her hand suddenly wrapping around the gardening shears and swinging at the pretender. Its brown eye widened slightly as the blade closed in rapidly, and it was as if the world itself had slowed down. "FUCK YOU!"

Her body had lost the only thing supporting it as the pretender let go of Cassidy, shrieking out in pain. Crimson justice flooded from its face, her precious gardening shears embedded in its face.

Cassidy's body slammed into the floor as she rolled. Pain flooded her senses as she coughed up blood, gripping onto her stomach. She cried out in pain as the golden light enveloped her frail form.

"She was- huh?" That warm voice. Mother. "Is that... oh MY GOD! CASSIDY!" She could hear it so clearly. A thumping resonated through the ground; it reminded her of running. There were other voices, but she couldn't recognize them, though. It sounded familiar, though. She might have heard it- back when Andie first disappeared. Maybe someone from the station?

Two hands grabbed onto her shoulders, and for just a brief moment, she could see it. The features of her mother. Those same brown eyes, the ones that smiled at her when she was down. "Mother..." Her hand trembled; she wanted so badly to touch her mother's face, to feel her mother's warmth one last time.

But, she was afraid that pretender, that Chorus of identities, was right. She was going to die, and no one could save her. Not even her mother.

She was just glad she could see her face one last time. Before, she would see nothing at all.

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He could tell it from the shock on her face. This story was so infamous, so well-known. Everyone's heard about the strange murder of Cassidy Fitzgerald, about the young high school student who went missing, only to reappear and die in her mother's arms moments later. "That's..." Legacy scratched his head nervously, laughing uncomfortably. "The side of the story no one knows." His stomach twisted, a deep pain radiating throughout his system. He doubled over with a low laugh. His stomach ached so much.

"The Observer sees so much, and it doesn't get to say a word." His role pained him. Tragedy always occurs right before his eyes, and he's always too late to stop it. He hated to confront it, the toll it took on him. He hated how the tragedy originated from within him.

He hated how he was the overarching reason for so many people meeting their end.

His hair curled as he gripped his face in pain. In agony. "She was killed by something bearing the face of another she trusted. And no one else ever gets to know." The weight, had it finally broken him? Mime fell silent, her hands slowly clasped around her chest as she stared at her painting. Then, touching her eye slowly, she paused. "She stabbed back at her aggressor, even in her final moments?" "She did."

A silence weighed on the painter's shop. A deep, heavy silence. She held her hands close together as her mind raced. The air weighed down on her, and only one question remained on her lips. "Wren and Robin... were they real, too?"

She finally looked up, the look up coming far too late. "Where did he...?" In the place of the guest she had come to familiarize herself with only a small paper flyer remained. Pausing, she placed her paintbrush down hesitantly. Then, carefully, she picked up the flyer in both hands.

In the setting sun, she could make out a few words.

MISSING PERSON: ANDRE AUBREY. HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

ENDING ONE OF THREE ♪

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CHARACTER CAST ARCHIVE ♪

"Mime" - A painter who comes into brief contact with a roaming entity, learning through him some of the tragedies that's occured throughout the years under the guise of "creative" exercises.

"Legacy" - A roaming entity that never lingers in one place for too long. Also known as the Observer, it bears witness to events the world itself has long since forgotten. He is the original entity.

CONTAINS STORY SNIPPETS FROM THE METHOD TRACKS:

Track One: I Miss the Quiet

Track Six: Chorus of an Audience

Wren/The Windwalker - What remains of that young man after that fateful night. He fell for the lure, and now he's become the next lure, waiting to draw in its next prey.

Robin Aubrey - A young guitarist whose car breaking down led to the worst 2 weeks of her life, and a future full of instability and hidden secrets coming to life.

"Chorus"/The Pretender - A creature wearing the face of Andre Aubrey, a missing young man. It tricked Cassidy using Andre's likeness, only to later claim her life in the end.

Cassidy Fitzgerald - A victim of Chorus, who is famous for disappearing under strange circumstances, only to reappear weeks later and pass away in her mother's arms.

It was funny, in a way. For all his life, he pondered what happens when you move from one plane of life to the next. To whatever comes after.

He placed a hand on his chin, his foot propped up on his leg as he stared off into the distance. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. It certainly wasn't the corner of Rockwell and Sakura.

His long black hair curled against the stone curb, grass blades and fallen cherry blossom leaves carefully making a home in his messy strands. His fingers twitched a little, his eyes scanning the busy streets. Part of him wondered if the people before him were also- for lack of a better word, dead.

"What's so special about Rockwell anyway?" His memory was a little hazy. His head ached the more he thought about it. What was so special about Rockwell? He felt like something important was missing.

"Excuse me." A gentle voice broke him out of his trance, his grey eyes looking up tiredly. Before him stood a young girl with long pink hair, one hand over her chest, one hand behind her back. She bowed with a politeness he found kind of eerie. "I had a question. I was hoping you'd entertain me?" Definitely eerie. Who's that polite to a stranger you could see right through?

"Sure. It's not like I've got anywhere else to be." His eyes shifted, glancing down at his... current state of being. He didn't look nearly as terrible as when he died, that was for sure. Ignoring the slight (slight) transparency, he almost looked... normal? The girl perked up, walking around the curb. Behind her, she dragged an old red wagon as she walked. Then, plopping down on the curb next to him, the girl smiled again.

"Is this place special to you?" Ain't that a million-dollar question. "No clue. I've been trying to figure it out myself." He wasn't sure how much his answer would be worth. He looked around, and he couldn't help but note how calm and serene the street corner was. "Oh? So you know?" Her hand... he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Warm? Cold? It didn't feel like anything, really. "Do people just not realize they're dead?"

"Most people just don't want to believe it!" Placing her hands on her knees, the girl tilted her head to the side. She stared at the black-haired man for a moment before laughing heartily. "No one wants to believe they're truly gone. That the story is truly over." Looking at the street, bustling with people, she smiled. Couples entering in and out of the ice cream parlor, ice cream cones in loving, adoring hands; children running around the block, laughing parents chasing after them; strangers chatting near the opening of a nearby department store.

These were the lively times she loved to simply... observe. To watch. Memories like this were her favorite kind to carry around in her red wagon.

"But you're already aware of it! That's fascinating!" "It's hard to miss." Holding out his hands, the man observed himself, seeming unimpressed. "I can see right through myself." Pausing a moment, the girl laughed again. She seemed to find his situation quite funny- or rather, his unsurprise to it all. "I suppose you are looking a little transparent!"

He sighed a bit, lifting a finger to his chin as he scratched it solemnly. The corner of Rockwell and Sakura... why was he here? "When people die... lots of them come back to somewhere special to them in life." Her hand on her cheek, staring out into the busy crowd ahead. "Most people carry something deep within their souls... although, usually, people don't forget what that "deep" something is. Not so soon after death." Tapping her lip, the girl couldn't help but ponder. What brought this man to this ordinary street corner?

Why had he forgotten?

"There's not much special here." Scratching his head nervously, the man grumbled. "The ice cream parlor- it wasn't even half decent. It's like a unicorn met a sugar gnome and sprayed its guts. It was nothing worth writing home about." Glancing at the parlor's entrance, his eyes focused on a small, purple-haired girl as she stepped out, holding two ice cream cones. He observed her with strange interest as she looked back and forth, stepping into the road when it was clear. She ran across the street hurriedly, her purple hair blowing in the wind.

She skidded to a stop as she made it to the edge of the curb. Ironically... the curb the two figures had been sitting was where she had stopped in front of. Holding onto the small cone- it wasn't even really a cone, but rather one of those small paper cups you get for a dirt low price- the girl held it out hesitantly. "... uhm..." The man rose a brow, noting something odd about the girl. "She isn't really seeing anyone there, is she?" "Probably not! But us young ladies, we can sense things~" Winking at the man, he couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. But, part of him couldn't help but continue to watch.

"This is kind of stupid. I'm talking to an empty street corner." So she admits it. For her- there's nothing there. "And you didn't even like the ice cream from Baker's Street. I don't even think you liked sweet things. You only took me there because I liked it." The girl eyed the ice cream cone suspiciously, a frown forming on her face. And yet, she still held it out.

"I... I miss you, though. Even if we weren't related by blood, you took care of me like I was your own little sister." She had bent down onto one knee as she placed the cup down on the side of the curb.

"It's almost like you're here with me, Dames. It's weird."

...

The man didn't say anything, the wagon owner noted. Instead, he glanced down at the cup sitting by his thigh. His hand lightly brushed against it as he stared at the cup in silence. Then, his lips parted as he spoke. "She's right. I don't even like sweet things." His head turned slightly, just enough to glance at the pink-haired girl. Pink petals fell from the tree, adorning his hair like nature's special decoration. "But you ate it anyway?" He only offered a shrug in response, picking up the cup between his fingers gently.

"The kids I babysat loved that stupid parlor. But, they wouldn't eat anything if I didn't eat it with them." Looking up, he passed the ice cream off to the young woman, who took it with a warm smile. "So you ate it anyway." He shrugged again as he looked up at the girl. He watched her carefully as she shifted around. Elbowing the pink-haired lady, he scooted the side a bit, making way for the girl before him. Hesitantly, the girl sat down- part of him wondered how she made the choice to sit where he made room for her. He knew she only saw an empty corner.

"Huh. Predictable." Then, looking at the pink-haired girl, he paused. "Not a bad thing, though." "Do you remember her? Who she was?" She couldn't help but ask. She wasn't trying to pry into the mysterious man's life, really. She just wanted something for her wagon, something of his story to remember him by.

His fingers lightly tapped his head, as if trying to jog his memory. "Vaugely... She was an orphan, I think. Foster mom tried her best; just didn't have time to connect with the kid." His fingers rubbed into his head deeper, a slight frown on his face as he watched the girl. Staring at the cone. Like it personally hurt her. "Why get an ice cream cone if you're not gonna eat it?" Then, as if using muscle memory kicked in, his hand swatted the bottom of the cone lightly. A light breeze of air blew at the same time, sweeping the cone up. It lightly made contact with the girl's face, the cold from the ice cream sending a chill down her spine. "Brrr..." Then, a solemn expression formed on her face. "Just like Dames used to do." "Stop staring-" "-And eat it before it melts. That's how he always followed it up."

So that's what it was, she thought. Even if he himself wasn't entirely sure what brought him here... the pink-haired girl believed she had figured it out. "She mimics you pretty well." She couldn't resist the urge to comment. She didn't miss the eyeroll. She didn't miss the hint of a smile on his face either. "Does not." There was a hint of pride in his voice- of this she was sure.

"You know..." The girl started up again, this time fully leaning back, her cone in one hand, her other hand lying behind her head. "I think I understand why you liked to sit on the corner. It's pretty nice." A cherry blossom petal fell on her cone, her eyes widening slightly. "It'd be nicer if the petals didn't fall on my cone, though." The man beside her, she realized they sat in such similar manners. The pink-haired girl smiled. The reason? Now she was sure.

It was a place blessed by love.

It was strange. He felt lighter, although he wasn't sure why. Closing his eyes, the man chuckled a bit. "Just a boring street corner. The reason I came here probably doesn't matter." He surmised, and honestly- she couldn't have put it better herself. The girl glanced at the ice cream cup she had been handed, tilting it curiously. Her finger lightly ran across the cup, and something caught her eye. Something so small, she wondered how she missed it.

She lifted it up to her face, seeing small letters written on the cup. It spelled a name. Her head lifted up, a question lay on the tip of her lips. "... Ah." Where that strange man once sat- there was nothing there at all. Only cherry blossom petals blowing in the wind and soft sun rays remained. As suddenly as she had found him, he had vanished.

No, vanished was the wrong word. It was more like... he found peace and moved on. In his own way. The girl's eyes fell on the ice cream cup again, her fingers lightly dusting the cup's surface. A faint smile appeared on her face as she scooted towards her red wagon. Laying the ice cream cup in it, she took one final glance at the mysterious girl, eating her ice cream in gentle silence.

Paradise... The Deliverer was unsure what that could have possibly meant when he first arrived. In a land like this, what could paradise have possibly looked like?

"And this is the rainbow bridge!" The young, maroon-haired girl had made a grand gesture as she stood in front of a long, golden brick pathway that ascended into the sky and beyond the clouds. It stood at the edge of the small village, hidden behind a large golden gate, surrounded by pink tulip flowers.

The small girl held a small pair of keys in her hand, looking up at the golden-haired deliverer and his silver-haired companion with a smile that rivaled the dawn. (He had not a clue what the keys were for, as the gate wasn't even locked. There wasn't even a keyhole in the gate.) He had never seen anything so angelic and heavenly on Amphoreus before. "This is the pathway to the Garden of Paradise, The Butterfly Garden!" Rei spoke with a confidence he admired. They felt grateful to run into someone who could get them in touch with the people they needed. "Home of Miss Aries, our Heir of Paradise! If anyone can help you get to the Mountain's Summit... it'd be her!" "Thank you for all your help thus far, Miss Rennas."

Rei smiled again, running up to the golden-haired Deliverer. She clasped onto his hand with childish excitement, playfully tugging him in the direction of the bridge. Part of him couldn't help but play along, following her towards the golden steps.

"I'd say to watch your step, but-" She glanced down at his feet, which weren't even touching the floor. "- I feel like that doesn't quite apply to you, Mister Deliverer! Miss Stelle should watch her step, though! The stairs can be weird the first time going up! They float and all." The image made him chuckle. Stelle would take a tumble over the stairs like that.

"That's so not true." And as, on cue, she hasn't even made it up one step before missing the next step and fumbling forward. He lunged forward to grasp her jacket hood, accidentally pulling Rei around in the process. Pausing a moment, he sighed. "... perhaps it'll be safer for me to carry you?" "You will?" Not the time, Stelle.

Rei giggled, earning a side eye from Stelle as Khaslana picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Then, looking down, he grasped the young girl's hand again. "Please, lead the way, Rei." "I'm on it!"

...

The Garden was even more heavenly than the two visitors- no, the two trailblazers- could have ever imagined. "Woah..." Stelle's hands lingered on his shoulders as she sat up, leaning in as she took the air in. "It smells so sweet in here! Oh! Oh, and look at all those flowers!" The land was... beautiful.

Large green trees lined the entrance as the golden brick road stabilized, and beautiful, colorful flowers were placed in between the cracks in the brick. Carefully putting Stelle down (though he could have sworn he saw Stelle pouting), he couldn't help but admire the scenery. Castorice would have loved this, he thought. "Welcome to the Butterfly Garden! Home of Paradise!" Running over to a nearby statue, Rei motioned them forward with a smile. "This is the statue of the Heir of Paradise, Miss Aries! She's the creator of Paradise, and she's super friendly!"

Before them stood a large statue of a young woman, sitting on an open flower. Long hair lay at her sides, and she seemed to hold a clear crystal orb in her arms. A halo and wings accompanied the figure. He swore she was reminiscent of an angel. A lyre lay at her side, and several small live flowers lay at the base, complemented by a large stone gazebo structure, with pink willows growing on it.

"Is that the Heir we're looking for? She looks... angelic." Stelle wasn't wrong. The description was a little on the nose, though. He had a feeling, however... things weren't as heavenly as they seemed. Perhaps it was the reoccurrences speaking to him. "She is our goddess." An unfamiliar voice reached their ears, and a small hand on his arm startled him. "Excuse my intrusion. Rei, are these two guests?" The girl speaking was so small, had her delicate hands not been on his arm, he might have mistaken her for a flower. Her hands gently pulled him onto the ground, forcing his feet to finally make contact with the ground. So much for quick travel, he thought. Maybe walking was customary? He wasn't sure. "Spring! Yes, they are! Oh shoot, I forgot to mention-" Rei had run up to him, placing her hands in his own. With a sheepish smile, she laughed nervously. "- you should probably walk while you're up here in the garden... It's seen as good manners." "It's rare to see someone who has the ability to float these days." Finally, the new girl let go of his arm, taking a few steps back as she smiled gently.

"My name is Spring. I am a sugar angel, and I'd like to welcome you to the Butterfly's Garden on behalf of our goddess." A sugar angel... She was more reminiscent of a butterfly, he thought. Her yellow hair glistened in the sunlight, and a pair of something that resembled long, yellow, and blue butterfly wings peeked out from beneath her white, satin dress. He placed a hand on his chin curiously, his lips pursing. "A sugar angel?" "Sounds sweet. hehe." Oh, Stelle... not the time. Rei giggled nonetheless, tapping her lips in wait. "Yeah! Sugar angels are the guardians of paradise; they live up here within the clouds. It's pretty cool stuff."

The sugar angel smiled warmly, a hand placed over her chest. "Yes... We were made by our goddess to spread joy and peace, and to protect the world's right to paradise. We are an extension of her boundless kindness." Turning, Spring gestured towards the expansive garden. Baths, restaurants, nurse huts... it surprised the Deliverer how much there truly was. "Where's the Heir of Paradise, though?" Stelle asked the question he had also been thinking. In such a large place... where was the goddess who oversaw everything within it? Did she know they were coming?

"About that... you guys might not be able to meet with her. Not today, at least." There it was. It was as he had feared. Their journey had come to an abrupt and unpleasant halt. Scratching her head nervously, Rei bit her lip. "The most I can do is get you into the garden, but I'm not powerful enough to actually get you guys a meeting with her... at least, not on such short notice. It could take weeks-" A cold chill ran down Khaslana's spine, his hands trembling from the burning cold overtaking his senses. "What?! We don't have weeks!" Stelle couldn't help but scream out, startling the two younger ladies.

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"You're not strong enough to defeat me. Not you..." His sharp claws pointed down at the grey raccoon who stayed by his side, despite the obvious danger in front of them. "And certainly not her."

His tail whipped against the ground, slamming against the ground with such strength, it produced a gust of wind so strong, he felt like it threatened to blow them away. This man- no, this thing, it was a demon he never knew he had to face.

This was bigger than Amphoreus. This was bigger than any lord ravanger.

He braced himself, his hand clasping onto Stelle tightly as the wind picked up. Despite his best efforts, the heir's power proved much more than he could handle. "Augh!" She slipped from his grasp- something he still felt pity for, even now- and he could only watch helplessly as she disappeared into the treelines behind them.

"Stelle!" "You should worry more about yourself, Deliverer." He couldn't do anything, he felt so... helpless. The temperature dropped drastically as that beast of a man got closer, chilling Phainon far past the deepest parts of his soul. He wasn't quick enough on his feet; his trusted Dawnmaker, slashed out of his hands by a quick smack of the Heir's tail. It wrapped around his arm, the slash scales tearing into his skin as it forced him down onto a knee. "How does it feel? Down there, on the ground." Those indigo claws traced along the white-haired man's throat, with just enough pressure to slit it open. They grasped his jaw tightly, and for a moment, he felt like he was going to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have come here." "I have to stop you. The cost doesn't matter." A sense of justice like his was always a critical flaw. Even if the fight seemed hopeless, he couldn't just... leave. He had to fight; there was no other choice. "This world is dying. Why choose to die with it?" "No! I will- I will save this world." Amphoreus was all he had known; it was all he had left. He couldn't let totality overtake another planet.

A chill ran down his spine, his lips turning blue. His body felt numb, his hands losing all feeling in them. Yet, the sheer cold did nothing to numb the pain as his tail slowly crept up his shoulder, wrapping around his neck. It squeezed as he lifted him up slowly. The scales dug into his neck, ichor seeping from beneath the tail. He hated the way ichor stained his skin.

Cold air escaped his mouth, sending a numbing chill through his nerves. Ice cold orbs glared down into his pale blue orbs, and for just a moment, the only thing that remained in his head was... terror. "There's barely one degree of separation between me and you, Aedes." "I..." His hands clasped at his forearm, a weak strike only causing a tighter, deeper grip. "You're being difficult for no reason." "What can I say? I'm a... bit of a challenge to deal with." And he thought Stelle was terrible with the timing of her jokes and quips.

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... He couldn't remember much else, if he were being honest. One moment, he was watching Stelle beg for something, for a crumb, for the inkling of a chance. The next moment, he was lying in an unfamiliar house, on an unfamiliar bed, with Rei by his side. Her fingers lightly probed at his lips, and he could only guess as to why.

"Your lips are blue." She kept poking at them lightly, glancing at her fingers nervously. She rubbed her fingers together as she grimaced. "And cold. Are you okay?" His eyes stared up at the ceiling, his hands clasped over his chest. "I... think I might be dying." He couldn't even feel his lips. It was kind of fucked up how that was the first thing to go. He lifted up his hand, which he couldn't stop from shaking. The tips of his fingers were already turning blue; he could tell that wasn't good, not in the slightest. "Stelle was right... We really don't have weeks." His hand fell onto his chest weakly as he turned his head to face Rei. He pitied her, and part of him really wished she didn't get dragged into this. "I don't think I have more than days." "No..." Rei held one of his hands in her own, so tightly he feared she might accidentally snap it off. "But... I really can't force a meeting with her. I'm... I'm so sorry..."

She reminded him of a younger version of himself... so eager to help everyone he came across. And immensely guilty when reality set in and told him he can't. And it pained him how familiar that heartache felt. Rei's stifled sobs burned a hole in his freezing heart. His fingers lightly stroked through her hair, numb but soothing- or his attempt at being so. "Please don't cry... I'm sorry..."

...

It had taken him a while to bring Rei back to a less... emotional? state. He wasn't the best at comforting people, especially not when he was the reason for distress. He really didn't mean to. In this case, he couldn't help what happened. Probably.

"So that's what happened... and that's why you need an audience with Aries." Rei scratched her chin nervously, her brows furrowed together. He had finally managed to sit up, an arm wrapped around Rei's shoulders for stability. He nodded slowly, laughing awkwardly as he rubbed her shoulder. "I think he took my calling myself a challenge personally." So personally that he cursed me, that was. "Where are we anyway?"

Glancing out the window, Phainon couldn't help but strain his eyes in an attempt to get a closer look. "After you passed out, Stelle and Spring dragged you over to the nearest home and put you to rest. I've been staying with you since." Placing her hands on her lap, Rei sighed a bit. Tilting her head slightly, she looked out the window as well. "You're really heavy, though. It took them ten whole minutes to lift you up!" Looking down, Rei laughed. She lightly poked at him, the older man playfully shaking his head. "Says the one who didn't help lift me?" "Not fair! I... was looking for a place to put you."

Moving his hand down, he rested his arm on his lap, looking around in an attempt to look wistful. (Was it working?) Leaning in, he scratched his chin. He couldn't stand staying still, especially not in a situation like this. Not to say he hated idling around and wasting time... but this certainly wasn't moving them forward anywhere. "I'm a little hungry..." It wasn't a full lie, of course. He doesn't recall the last time he ate... certainly, it had to be before he agreed to help out that genius from Amphoreus' core. "Oh!" She leaped up, just like he assumed she would. He almost felt a little sorry. But... not sorry enough as he clasped both his hands together, putting on his best "puppy dog" face he could manage. "Can you get me some food? Something with meat!" "Uhhh, something with meat, huh?"

And just like that, she was gone. He paused a moment- he wanted to make sure she didn't pop back in through the door at the last second, the way Professor Anaxagoras used to- before carefully getting up out of the bed. A chill rolled over his body as he emerged from the blankets. Damn, he hadn't realized how warm those blankets were keeping him. Glancing back, he wondered if they got those blankets specifically for him... the blankets seemed to be bigger than the bed itself.

Walking through the house, he pushed the door open. His feet touched the grass, and the sunlight felt really nice. He could see why they called it paradise, had he not been on a time constraint... he pushed the thought out of his mind.

His hair blew lightly in the wind as he looked around. He couldn't see anything from when they arrived... meaning he was deeper in the garden than he initially thought. His brows furrowed. "Where the hell am I...?"

The grass was such a soft green color, he noted. And the floral decor that grew here, it simply fascinated him. It felt like a scene from a storybook, one only Aglaea would have been able to weave with her words. But... his hands gently clasped around one of the large purple berries in the giant pink willow tree. "It's all real..."

A butterfly landed on his hand, startling him slightly. "Ahh..." It moved gently with his hands as he turned them, bringing it closer to his face. "What pretty wings you have... It's like I'm looking into a sunset." He remembered what Rei had said about butterflies on their way to the gate. Mostly because they differed so much from the butterflies in Amphoreus.

"Butterflies are the embodiments of happiness in the garden! Their presence brings joy and bliss to those they land on. They're almost considered like wish-granters, leading people when they feel the most lost."

While on Amphoreus, butterflies represented the departed, the final memories of those long gone... here, they represented happiness. He smiled softly. Happiness. He could use a bit of that.

"... like... wish-granters?" He cocked his head slightly as he stared at the butterfly. He held it close to his face, whispering words only meant for the bringer of happiness to hear. "... can you help me find the Heir of Paradise, little one?"

The butterfly's wings twitched slightly, and for a moment, he felt a little silly. It was just an animal; surely it couldn't understand what he was asking of it. Rei's words were like sugar; they had gotten stuck in his head.

"Ah." And just like that, it had flown off, disappearing into cotton blue sky. He instinctively reached out, trying to clasp onto the butterfly before it completely vanished from his sight. It left him standing outside all alone, and part of him never felt so alone before... the sunlight was nice, though.

"Happiness is like a butterfly."

A voice faintly reached his ears, a voice as sweet as sugar and as intoxicating as a lover's affection. It confused him. "Is that coming from..." His feet moved forward before his mind could catch up, running in the direction the butterfly had flown off in.

Unkempt pathways.

Overgrown willow trees.

Weathered statues of the Heir of Paradise.

"I try to catch it with my hands..."

His feet hit the ground, stumbling as he kept running. He wasn't sure where he was running to, that much was certain. He wasn't even sure he was going in the right direction; that butterfly must have long since disappeared. His chest burned as he stumbled to a halt. The air stung his lungs, his hands trembling. He wasn't really in much condition to be chasing thoughts or words. But...

His eyes widened slightly as a bunch of butterflies flew past him. The breeze accompanying them pushed him forward. It was almost like it was leading him somewhere. Were they really wish-granters? Did they really... hear his request?

"But it always seems to escape my delicate little hands."

The voice had gotten louder. He was sure of it. Another chill ran down his spine, more painful than the last one. He wondered where Stelle was. What Rei was looking for. He wondered how his old companions were doing, back at home. He wondered if he would ever be able to return home.

The grass seemed even softer here than anywhere else he had been. The sky seemed even softer, the clouds even fluffier. He slowly came to a stop, his eyes focusing on the sight before him. A large, candied temple at the top of the hill, surrounded by trees and flowers. A large pink lake surrounded the temple, with little lily pads floating lazily along its surface. The way it split into several smaller streams, shining in the sunlight, was almost stunning. No, it was more than stunning. However, he quickly realized... There was no easy way across the river to get to the temple.

His brows furrowed, his fingers twitching. Then, another sound reached his ears. It sounded like... music? A stringed instrument- what was the name of the stringed instrument Professor Hyacine used to play for him? When it was stormy nights, and he was too frightened to fall asleep? It sounded just like that, he thought.

His eyes squinted as he tried to glance into the temple. There was a figure there, he was sure of it. "However... happiness has landed in my hands this time around." The voice came from that temple.

The ground rumbled suddenly, a feat that frightened the Deliverer as he stumbled in an attempt to hold his ground. His hands trembled as he summoned his Dawnmaker, but he found he was barely able to hold onto the massive weapon. It felt foreign in his hands. Like it didn't belong in his arms.

Golden stones appeared in the river as the rumbling subsided, and he quickly realized that those golden stones had created him a path forward. Was this... an invitation?

"Don't stand around there, young man. Come and claim the audience you so earnestly wished for." His feet moved before his brain could catch up- it was almost embarrassing how often this happened, now that he thought about it. This was the second time in such a short span of time. Forget being the Deliverer; perhaps the Wanderer was a more fitting title for him at this rate.

The closer he got, the clearer the details became. The instrument- ah, that was right. It was called a harp. A large, golden harp stood in the middle of the temple, and a small pink-haired figure sat on the seat next to it.

...

"Who are you?" "I go by many names. The Goddess... the Blooming Butterfly of Happiness..."

She lifted his hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand. It left a soft, glittery mark as the smaller lady smiled. Her soft pink hair blew lightly in the wind, a large set of gorgeous butterfly wings extending behind her. They looked just like the original butterfly he had quite desperately made a wish to.

"But... I prefer my given name, Aries. I've been awaiting your arrival, Mister Deliverer."

Her white dress and the colorful flower crown that sat on the top of her head... this was the definition of a true goddess, he thought. And here he was, worried she'd look like that beast of a man he ran into prior.

He didn't realize how gentle her touch was, a hand placed beneath his chin, ever so slightly making contact with his skin. "Your lips are blue. It makes you look like him a bit." "You're the second person to make that observation today, Miss Aries." He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Part of him wondered if it looked nearly as bad as he felt. Or, rather, the lack of what he could feel. Then, the second part of her remark sank in, and his face twisted into a pout. "What? Noo... I don't want to look like that!" A surprised expression flooded her features for a moment before a soft laugh erupted from the goddess. Covering her mouth with her hand, she couldn't help but laugh at such a comment.

Grasping his hand, Aries led the Deliverer towards the river, where a small pink picnic blanket sat on the grass. Was that always there? He wasn't sure; he hadn't noticed it before, but he was aware this place wasn't all it seemed. Floating up, she placed her hands on the deliverer's shoulders, urging him to sit down. He couldn't refuse it, not after her kindness in granting him the audience he had been seeking. "Now... is it true? You challenged the Heir of Finality?" ... so she knew after all. "I did. Not on purpose, but..." He rubbed his chin in dismay with a slight frown. "I need to find a way to get to the shrine in the mountains. The folks in the village at the edge of the bridge told me that you'd be best equipped to help me find the fastest way there..." He looked down at his hands, the crystal blue spreading down his fingers, slowly creeping onto his palms. He wiggled his fingers nervously, pleasantly surprised by how much feeling he still retained in them.

Clasping her hands behind her back, the girl mused for a moment. Turning her back to him, she hummed. "Of course! If your happiness is in travel, I'd be glad to light your path forward." Then, spinning around, she held a small fruit in her hand. Bending down, she held it out with a smile. "But... I can sense turmoil in your heart. You're still grappling with your troubles. I fear without facing that... you won't make it to the summit." "What...?"

Her words came as a shock, his hand lingering over his chest. Turmoil in his heart... his lips pursed. "I don't think I understand." Shaking her head, Aries smiled sadly. Placing the golden fruit into his hands, she lifted her finger. Lightly, she tapped him on the nose. "Part of my job as an Heir of Bloodflame is to ensure all those who enter my garden are blessed by happiness, for happiness and joy is the strongest blade against despair and totality." Her fingers lightly dusted his face, brushing his bangs aside. Happiness and joy... to combat despair and totality? "If you're in agony, this world will only put you into deeper agony. Agony cannot beat agony. You cannot best Finality." Lowering her hand, she ran her fingers along his lips. "If you challenge him now? You're going to lose everything."

His brows furrowed as he looked down. What agony could he possibly be internalizing that would lead to his definitive loss? He didn't understand. "So as much as I want to help you... I can only help you once you've overcome your own pain and embrace Paradise." The wording struck him as odd. Paradise? He couldn't figure out what that meant. "I don't get it. Embrace paradise? What does that possibly mean?" Aries giggled lightly, her hand lingering over her mouth. "It is my job." She repeated slowly. "To make sure people are blessed by happiness." Her hands cupped his own, lifting both his hands and the fruit up to his face. "Only through confrontation can I bless you with happiness! Only through a love synopsis can you make the right choice."

His eyes focused on the fruit before him. He could see himself reflected in its surface, and he couldn't lie... he looked foreign, even to himself. His blonde hair, his white lashes, the pale white frost on his face... even the pale lips people had focused on. "... so what do you expect me to do?" "Take a bite. Confront your agony... and make the right choice."

Her smile was unsettling. His eyes focused on the fruit- it looked like an apple. Grasping onto it, his fingers gripped the apple like fruit. He remembered a trick Cipher had shown him once, a long, long time ago... His brows furrowed as he placed his fingers on the top of the apple. Then, pulling on it, he was decently surprised how easily it split open. Holding one half of the apple, he eyed it with suspicion. Then, hesitantly, he took a bite of it.

... it tasted cold.

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"Do you blame yourself?" The voice made him freeze, the voice of something he's only heard in his nightmares. He whipped around, facing the source of the voice.

It was himself. But, he looked... different. No- it wasn't him, he knew so.

"You..." He didn't remember summoning Dawnmaker. However, the giant blade burned in his hand, like a burning sun. Irontomb's avatar seemed much smaller than Khaslana remembered, much more delicate. "Do you blame yourself? For being unable to protect Amphoreus?" His feet dragged along the floor, a small doll held between his fingers. Small, plush, with golden hair and golden eyes... "Do you think this is funny?" Dawnmaker fell out of his hands, dissolving into golden dust.

"I don't really want to fight." He had rolled onto his stomach, placing the doll on the floor between two other dolls. One with unkempt, choppy white hair, dressed in black. The other with neat white hair, dressed in white. Two versions of himself, both of which he treated unfairly. He regretted it. "I don't really like fighting with you."

"I don't care." Staring down, he crossed his arms with a scowl. It didn't matter; the avatar didn't spare him so much as a glance back. Swinging his legs happily, he carefully adjusted the dolls before speaking. "You didn't answer my question? I mean, we are one in the same, after all." The words bothered him. That statement bothered him. One in the same? One in the same? It sent a chill down his spine. "One in the same? You're kidding." "I am thou, and thou art I. Or, however the saying goes." His fist gripped tightly, and his chest ached. "Kidding, kidding. I don't know much about popular culture to be making that reference. But, I really am curious. Do you feel guilty?"

"... maybe." He sat down next to the avatar, his eyes focused on the nothingness ahead of him. "It just doesn't sit right with me. Even if it's not my home I'm fighting for, I can't let him destroy it." Placing his hands behind his head, he leaned back with a frustrated frown. "I certainly didn't let you do it." "It wasn't my intention. Or, the "me" you see in front of you. I just wanted to be someone real. Like you."

It made him uncomfortable, the way those grey eyes looked at him. He reached over the avatar's head, shoving the blonde-haired doll over with a flick of his fingers. "Ah. My dolls." The avatar's hands twitched as he reached out for the fallen-over doll. "I'm no hero. I'm not sure why you'd want to be like me." Scratching his head, he let an arm fall to his side. His face twisted, finally forced to face the truth of the matter before him. "I was the catalyst. I was the vessel. I was..." "The reason they all died?" "Yeah." The avatar laid its head on the ground, watching as Khaslana reached over again, flicking over the pristine white-haired doll with his fingers. "I made them all suffer. I killed every single one of them, over and over again. I drove Professor Hyacine to madness. I killed Lady Agalea with my own two hands. I even ended the life of a younger me without any remorse. I killed the woman I loved." His face twisted; it was all so unpleasant to admit. No one wants to view themselves as the monster in the story. But that was the only view he'd have. His fingers twitched slightly as he stared at the last standing doll.

Flame Reaver.

The biggest regret he had. He considered for a moment, knocking him down like the rest. "... and I forced a suffering upon him, one like none other..." He couldn't bring himself to do it. "That one was always my favorite." The words surprised him as he looked down at the avatar in shock. "He was resilient to the very end. Even if he was forced to play the villain, he sacrificed his entire being to the very end. Maybe he wanted to see the dawn rise more than anyone else by the end of his lifeline." So that's what it was. He bit his thumb, a view he never considered. A sacrifice that was made willingly, knowing he was working towards a future he'd never see. Even if that knowledge degraded in his mind... "But that wasn't fair to him." "But he made the same choice you had. And the you before him. And the you before that one too. You all made the same choice in the end, one to let you finally see the dawn. Shouldn't that dedication be acknowledged?"

The avatar reached up, clasping onto the messy-haired doll as he laid it down carefully. There was an odd gentleness to it, he thought. And there he was, flicking them like they had personally offended them. He had such a heavy hand.

Khaslana lowered his hand, resting it on his chest instead. "I've hated myself for so long..." "And you've hated me too. Because of it." His eyes focus on the darkness ahead, something he already knew lurked in the darkness in his own mind. The large titan- no, the fallen lord ravenger, and its miniature version. The Anti-Nous and its Hatred Inundate. "The real Irontomb."

It was larger than life. It scared him. It was larger than life, larger than him, larger than all of Amphoreus... and yet, it was part of him all the same. And that's what scared him the most. "I did everything I could and yet I..." A pain welled up in his chest, his vision blurring. Glitches flooded his vision, pain flooding all his senses. He doubled over in pain, choking on his own breath, his hands twitching uncontrollably. It hurt. He was a monster, and it hurt. It hurt so badly.

...

"If you had the chance to erase it all... the pain, the agony, the betrayal."

The glitches overtook his vision, and he felt like he was dying. Maybe it'd be better if he did. A golden figure emerged from the glitches, delicate arms wrapping around the avatar's shoulders, soft white angel wings folding around him.

"Would you take that chance?" Her fingers traced the avatar's jaw, a spaded tail wrapping around his neck slowly. It... almost reminded him of a snake. "To purge the thing connecting you to all your troubles. If you could free yourself... would you let me?"

His fingers twitched, pain choking out his protests, his cries. His mind was fuzzy; he could barely think straight. His entire body felt sluggish, immense pain aside. If he could even put it aside, that was. "What the hell is your problem?" Not exactly the way he intended for it to come out. His mind felt numb beyond measure. "Paradise is only one word away." The tail wrapped around the avatar's neck slowly, and for a moment, he could only feel pity for the little thing. The halo, it felt almost blinding. "I can free you from it. From him~" The angel's finger pointing at the avatar. So... that's what she meant by Paradise. But could she really eliminate Irontomb from his code? Would that really change anything?

... without Irontomb, without his avatar... would he still be "The Deliverer" at all? "I think you might have misunderstood the situation." He was surprised the avatar still had the strength to speak. "It's not me he's pained by." Unblinking, unyielding, in an odd way... Khaslana admired it. But he was right. In his own way. His hands trembled as he forced himself off the floor. Even as pain rushed through his veins, he couldn't let a puppet outplay him. "Paradise... It's not my style." The angel seemed shocked, a flash of shock panning across her face before an off smile replaced it. "You won't have to feel like a monster. Deep down inside, I know it. You're in pain. I want to soothe that pain." The sentiment almost made him laugh. "Even now, you're in pain. Those hideous glitches..." The angel smiled. "... if you think I can stop them-" The avatar looked up at the angel, a blank expression on his face. "- then you'd be wrong. I really can't."

Maybe that was the kicker. For him, at least. Mydeimos always told him that pain was its own self-fulfilling prophecy. A fool would do well not to attract its ire. "I appreciate the offer-" Not really. He was rather offended she would even offer it in such a roundabout way. "- but I don't need to be fixed." If you could even call it that. Paradise... he finally understood what it really meant.

"I can free you from this pain!" Paradise wasn't freedom. No... "Your idea of Paradise is escapism. It's an illusion. I want no part of it." Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet. Despite the pain, the ache, the torture... "I'll make my own way forward. Me and the weird little avatar." "Oh, I'm included in this? How kind."

Maybe sarcasm was an inherent Worldbearer trait. Even as the tail of the angel tightened around his neck, his bright crimson blood staining her fingers... he never once stopped smiling. That guy never ceases to unnerve him, even in his own technical death.

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The light hurt his eyes. He had been in that dark inner void so long, he forgot how bright the Garden of Paradise truly was. "So you reject it? My gift?" The butterfly's hair blew in the wind, and for a moment, he forgot she wasn't supposed to be an angel. "Why should I?" Dusting himself off, he left the half-eaten fruit fall onto the grass, watching it dissolve into golden dust. "I don't need to be fixed." He lifted his finger, poking her in the chest lightly. "And certainly not by you."

His chest ached. But this time... it was from the cold chills.

"All I want is a way out of here. Preferably, so I can kick your coworker's ass." Her face twisted up, seemingly displeased by the turn of events. He wondered how long she had crafted that plan of hers. "It might have worked. But, in that moment..." He rubbed his head slowly. It felt silly, admitting he was wrong. He had spent so much time and energy hating the avatar and Irontomb that he hadn't realized... I realized that the hate I had wasn't really reciprocated. That bothered him more than anything else.

"So that's it. Your answer is to deny happiness?" Placing a hand over her chest, she frowned. A deep disappointment, that's what it was. Her brows furrowed; she didn't understand. It wasn't for her to understand. That frustrated her most of all. "Happiness is like a butterfly." She held out her hands, trembling slightly. Grasping them tightly, her face twisted up again. This time... she looks especially unpleasent, he thought. "Every time I try to catch it, it escapes from my delicate hands. Yet yours led you straight to me. I am your happiness. Why would you let that go?"

Her smile was unsettling as she unfurled her hands slowly. Cupping the Deliverer's face gently, her hands felt colder than he was. He scooted back, grimacing. "You must have a lot on your mind. That must be why you denied happiness." Her gaze softened, and for a moment, he almost missed it. That small flicker of anger. Her fingers brushed his face lightly, a glistening shimmer dusting his cheeks. "The being overly affectionate is only cute when Rei and Stelle does it." He didn't mean to swat her hand away like that, really. He was trying not to lose his temper, really. But the truth of the matter really was...

"You're kind of pissing me off, lady."

...

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE???"

Stelle couldn't help but yell. But she was just drawing attention from everyone around. Rei felt embarrassed. Really embarrassed. "I don't know! He said he was hungry-" She held up the bag of cheeseburger pita sandwiches she still had in her hands defensively. "- and he asked for something with meat! So I left him to go get him food!" Rei whined, stomping her feet in a fit. "How was I supposed to know he was gonna up and disappear in the short time I was gone!"

Her face burned. Her legs ached. She spent so much time running around, so much time looking for the lost Deliverer, she was exhausted. Her eyes watered as she threw the bag of food on the floor in a huff. "I'm trying to be the best guide I can be!" Stelle froze as Rei's tears fell, staining the brown bag. Part of Stelle's heart ached. "I'm sorry..." Her hands trembled as she used her sleeve to wipe Rei's tears. "We got you involved in something bigger than yourself, and we didn't even tell you. I'm sorry." Closing her eyes, Stelle pulled the young girl into a hug. They had dragged the innocent girl into a dark and gritty adventure and didn't even think about the consequences.

If Phainon were here, surely he'd lecture her for making Rei cry. Dan Heng, too. Surely March 7th would be offended, just by the thought of it.

"I just wanted to help you guys..." Tears rolled down her face, soaking into Stelle's hoodie as she clung to the trailblazer. "And you have! You've been so good to us... so helpful. Tending to our needs without a second thought." Stroking her hands through her hair, Stelle smiled weakly. "That's why I need you to think. Is there something you might have said to Phainon? Something that might explain where he went off to?" She was worried about him; she couldn't hide that fact. She wasn't sure what had happened between Phainon and that man once he had blown her away. She had no clue how he ended up slowly freezing. She was clueless in her entirety- and for once, it bothered her greatly. Not knowing anything was a burden for her. Sniffling, Rei pouted. "I don't know... I've said a lot of things! It's just the guide in me!"

Looking down, Rei clasped her hands together. "The Heirs chose me," she whispered softly. "To lead. To guide." Such a heavy responsibility, Stelle thought to herself. "But I really don't know. I'm no one special. I'm not like you and Lord Phainon." Scratching her head, her brows furrowed further. "I've spent my entire life believing silly mantras! Wait..." As if on cue, Rei jumped up. Then, grabbing onto Stelle's hand, she suddenly ran out towards the grassy plains. Yelping, Stelle followed her in confusion. "There!" Pointing, Stelle struggled to comprehend the sight before her. "... butterflies?"

Holding out her hands out, Rei shuffled on her feet nervously. "Come on, come on... please, little butterfly..." A butterfly lazily floated over, landing on the tips of her fingers. "What are you doing?" Stelle whispered, confused at the objective. Rei brought the butterfly closer to her lips, her voice soft and gentle. "Oh, little bringer of happiness... we've lost our friend. Can you help us find him?" The butterfly pondered, flapping its wings as it lingered in front of Rei and Stelle for a moment. Clasping her hands together, Rei closed her eyes with a whisper. Confused, Stelle did the same. At least Stelle... attempted to have the same spirit?

"Butterflies are bringers of happiness..." Rei explained softly. "They hear the earnest wishes of people. And they answer them, if the heart is pure enough." Looking up at the butterfly, her lips parted slightly as she stared at the golden butterfly. "I mentioned this belief to the Deliverer on our way here. Maybe he remembered it... and he made a wish of his own?" Her eyes focused on the butterfly, watching as it landed on her finger briefly before suddenly flying off. "Gwahhh! It's flying away! After it!"

...

The two girls felt like they had been chasing that butterfly for a long while. Stelle had almost lost hope, worrying that Rei was wrong. Yet, as the clearing opened, her worry was directed elsewhere. She skidded to a stop suddenly, squealing as Rei grasped onto her collar. "Augh!" She had been running so fast that she had nearly missed the large, expansive pink lake.

"That was close... but where are we?" Rei looked around, confused by the scene before her. If Rei didn't know... Stelle sure as hell didn't know either. In fact, Stelle had less than a clue. And that was her being generous to herself.

"I have no clue! And that's being generous!" ... ah, I just said that. Are you stealing my jokes now, too? Stelle's finger extended as she pointed over the river, towards the large golden harp. "But there's something happening over there!" Two figures, one pink-haired, one yellow-haired. Fighting.

The ground rumbled violently, so violently that it threatened to knock the two girls off their feet. Rei stumbled, grasping onto a nearby tree. Stelle- not as lucky, falling straight on her ass. "Oomph!" Wincing, Stelle looked up. Covering her forehead with her hands, she squinted. "I think it's the Deliverer! And... is that the garden's goddess? I thought she was supposed to be more... angel-like?" Rei gripped the tree tightly as another wave erupted, more violent than the previous wave. She squealed as a gust of wind picked up, blowing debris her way.

"I cannot- I will not let you leave!" The Heir's voice boomed through the area, a frightening, loud lightning across the land. It made Stelle's head spin, Rei covered her ears instinctively. She stumbled to her feet, rushing towards Rei as the two girls clung onto the tree helplessly.

"There you two are!" The voice of Spring caught them off guard as the young angel fly down by their side. Grasping onto Stelle's arm, she looked at them worriedly. "What are you two doing here! This is Lady Aries's private residence!" "We followed a butterfly here!" Rei did her best to explain between tremors, the three girls huddling close together. "I think our friend might be in danger!"

A loud thudding broke their focus as Dawnmaker clattered on the grass, another strong gust of wind sweeping the floor from under them, causing the girls to fly backwards. Rei winced as she gripped the grass tightly. "Guys!" Looking back, they had blown back too far for her to reach them. Her head snapped forward, and a puzzling sight unfolded before her.

... They were gone.

They were gone? That made no sense. Rei's eyes focused on Dawnmaker as she crawled to the edge of the river. Her hand trembled as she reached out for it. She could just barely... barely... Her fingers dusted the edges of the blade, the sharp edge cutting her palm open. She grimaced, pain spreading through her hand. Yet, she heeded it no mind as she gripped onto the blade.

"Come on..." She tugged on it with all her might, ignoring the way it cut through her flesh. The way it dripped into the river below. "Come on!" She slammed her foot against the grass as she pulled on the blade. Heavy. It was heavy. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer to work out together. "Curse my laziness... come on!"

The blade budged just enough to create a bridge across the river. Rei's eyes watered as she slowly crawled across the blade of Dawnmaker to the other side of the giant river. Her hand trembled, her eyes watering from the pain. "Where did they go...?" She looked around as she stumbled onto her feet.

... A shadow, she thought. Nervously, Rei looked up. The sun shone in her eyes. It burned. Covering her eyes with her hand, she squinted. That's when she spotted it, two figures far up in the sky. Her eyes widened slightly, as she scrambled out of the way. Not even a moment later, a loud thud hit the floor. Her hands trembled as she could only stare at the torn black wing lying where she had previously been standing. "W-What the hell?" And then, another thud, just behind her. She screamed as it landed, covering her head as she trembled in place. She was too scared to look; she only knew it was something yellow.

"Happiness is like a butterfly. Please, forgive me for tearing the wings off yours. You will be happier this way." Aries's face was soft, gentle, and remorseful. He was sure she felt not an ounce of remorse, her hand clasped around his collar as they lingered 100s of feet in the air at least.

Maybe it wasn't his best idea... to pick a fight with a goddess. Pain fried his thoughts, agony flooding his body. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. It was rather... unpleasant. His hands trembled as he gripped her arm tightly. As tightly as he could.

He could barely hear screams beneath him. He was too afraid to look down. "I'll never find happiness. Not with you, or any method you might try." Blood dripped from his mouth as he scowled. His chest ached. The air up here burned. He couldn't breathe normal air, he couldn't breathe crisp air. What the fuck was he supposed to breathe, he thought briefly.

"Then..." Aries's eyes glanced down, and a smile formed on her face. It worried him. "Perhaps, you'll catalyze the happiness for someone else." Her grip loosened slightly, his fingers twitching nervously. "What..." His face paled as her grip loosened further. "L-Lord Phainon?"

...

The wind burned his skin, tearing through him like a stone-cold knife. Aries got smaller and smaller, and for a moment, he felt as if time had stopped. A catalyst for someone else's happiness...

For a moment, all his regrets resurfaced. He wished he had told his friends more about how grateful he was to have them, how he wished he had told Persephone how much he loved hearing her talk about melting clocks, about how grateful he was to have Stelle as a trailblaze partner...

Ah. He wished... he had gotten the chance to thank Rei. For letting him experience something so wonderful. Even if it ended... less than ideal. His own tears flew off his face, and he wondered if he'd even register the moment he made contact with the ground.

Twilight lightly tugged on her winter jacket, and a part of her felt a twinge of... suspicion. It was the first time she had taken a case without her partner, who had seemed to all but disappear into the night. And now, her incoming presence in this new town seemed to be known by... a little girl?

"How old are you?"

She didn't mean to blurt out the question like that, really. But this entire sequence of events caught her... rather off guard. Charon tilted her head slightly, her lips parting as she spoke slowly.

"I am 21 years old, ma'am. I turn 22 in 3 weeks." As if on command, the local produced an ID for her front pocket, holding it in front of her with both hands. Gleaning a quick glance, Twilight saw that it all seemed to add up. What caught her interest, however, was the legally blind part of her ID.

Waving her hand dismissively, Twilight sighed. "You can put it away now. You mentioned a man named Haru?" She nodded eagerly as she slipped the ID back into her front pocket. Twilight had heard the name... vaguely. Her higher-up had mentioned someone named Haru who used to work in the department, although apparently, he had retired from the force a long time ago. "Haru is my adoptive father. He- as well as his wife, Miss Azure- is your point of contact while in Frosthelm. I am their adoptive daughter." So that's the connection? Interesting.

"Things have gotten dangerous in town lately..." Charon clasped her hands over her chest, and Twilight could have sworn she felt a gaze on her. But, she wasn't quite sure the gaze belonged to Charon. "People have been getting attacked during the late hours of the night. Father Haru was worried you might not make it to the library you'll be staying at due to these attacks. So, I offered to escort you to ease their nerves."

"Even though you're legally blind?" She had a bit of a bad habit, blurting out questions without truly thinking about them. Covering her mouth, Twilight grimaced. "Sorry, that was rude." "It is okay. I understand." Reaching up, Charon's fingers lightly clasped onto the visor. She lingered for a moment before taking it off. Her eyes were glossy... it reminded Twilight of Syo's eyes, being almost... glass-like in appearance. "I am legally blind, yes. But... I can still see somewhat." Her eyes slid to the side as she looked away. Nodding slowly, she continued. "My eyes unsettle people. It is why I wear this."

Holding out the visor, Charon smiled sheepishly. "I simply wished not to disturb you with such an unsightly gast. But I guarantee, I will bring you to your abode safely, if allowed." Twilight paused a moment, and then a soft laugh erupted from her mouth. "You have the same eyes as a friend of mine. I'm not disturbed at all- dare I say, it comforts me in the oddest way." She couldn't help herself, the idea seeming so odd to her. If people are so bothered by the sight of it, then perhaps that was their own problem they needed to solve. She took a step forward, her hand gently clasping Charon's own. She couldn't help but notice the tint of surprise in Charon's expression, although she wasn't sure which was the girl surprised by.

"Please, lead the way. It's rather chilly out here."

...

The town itself- what was it named? Frosthelm? It was a sight to behold, Twilight thought. It was a small, rather isolated town, and she swore it snowed 24/7, all year around. Following Charon through the town, she couldn't help but notice how... empty the streets were. There were small lanterns strung up everywhere, lighting up the street with a warm hue, but all the doors were closed, windows all drawn, and even the food stands seemed to be all but abandoned.

"The street vendors all pack up as soon as it gets dark now, due to these attacks... is this why you're here, Lady Twilight?" Charon's voice was gentle, Twilight thought. It was the voice of someone who experienced something unfathomable, yet refused to let go of the light found in life. Scratching her chin lightly, Twilight's brows furrowed. "In a way... I suppose so." She chose her words carefully, in an attempt not to divulge too much information too quickly. In truth, Twilight's presence in the small town was concerning the mysterious death of someone in the town. Why had they outsourced the investigation to Rondo City's Myriad Celestia Detective Department, Twilight was unsure of.

She was unsure of how long they had been walking; however, it didn't seem like long before Charon stopped in front of a small building. Odd, Twilight thought. "Welcome to the Middle of the Night Library. This is where you'll be staying during the duration of your visit." Pulling out a pair of keys from her pocket, Charon ran her fingers along the keys carefully. Twilight's eyes flicked slightly, noticing raised bumps on the key's surface. "Braille?" She nodded in response, putting one of the keys into the lock. It clicked open softly as she pushed up the door. The younger girl motioned for Twilight to join her inside, to which she carefully obliged.

"Char~ You're late."

Another voice from the darkness caught her off guard, an eerily similar yet entirely foreign sound to her ears. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dimly lit... cafe? "My apologies, Mister Angelwood. May I ask why you're here...?" "Azure wanted me to make sure you and that detective got here safe. The hospital visit took longer than they were expecting."

Twilight's eyes ached as she squinted, trying to observe the odd figure in the distance. Something seemed... she wasn't entirely sure, if she were to be honest. Something new, yet something used. It was all she could describe the feeling as. Noticing her confused expression, Charon placed her hand over her chest. "May I turn on the light, Mister Angelwood?" She asked gently, to which the person in the darkness chuckled.

"Go ahead. Not everyone can stand a mystery, right, Miss Detective ~?" Oh, he seemed so annoying.

Charon reached out, her fingers gently feeling up the wall. Then, a soft click followed as a soft light flooded the room. Her eyes ached as she covered them with her arm. "Flashbang..." She muttered to herself, the pain from the sudden light messing with her head slightly. Lowering her arm, her eyes squinted as she observed the man in front of her. He held his hand over his mouth, but she could just tell... he wore a shit-eating grin beneath it.

"And I thought I was sensitive to light." "Ah... I did not think about that. My apologies, Lady Twilight. Now, Mister Angelwood, will you introduce yourself, or should I?"

The man's white hair curled against the wooden table, a smug expression on his face. She couldn't help it; he reminded her of someone. He reminded her of....

"My name is Marceline. I'm a... friend of this town." Something about the way he spoke bothered her. The smugness, the non-commitment.... Twilight sighed a bit, lowering her hand fully. She glanced over at Charon before looking back at the odd man. "You're that detective who Azure mentioned to keep an eye out. I wasn't expecting..." He lifted his fingers up to his lips, his head cocked to the side slightly. "Someone so unassuming. You don't look like a detective at all."

"Does everyone and their mother know about me coming?"

Marceline chuckled, making a shush motion with his fingers. "Just me, Charon, and Charon's folks." Her brows furrowed as Twilight grit her teeth. She hasn't even been there for a few hours, and she already wanted to leave. In front of him lay a stack of various papers, some newspaper clips, and some notebooks. Motioning her over with his hand, Twilight couldn't help herself. Slowly, she walked over, leaning over the strange man's shoulder to get a closer look at the papers he had.

"Charon. Get me two drinks from the cooler. And don't forget to text Azure you made it safely."

His nails intrigued Twilight; she wasn't sure why, though. Maybe it was because of the color... black, with not a shine on them. It reminded her of a black hole... taking in everything and leaving nothing behind. Her eyes shifted; autopsy reports. "What are those?" "The report on the death of your victim. Only in name, though, Bastard got what was coming to 'er."

Her finger lingered on the report, scooping it up with careful consideration. "What's that mean?" She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes shifted, glancing towards the indoor cafe, where Charon was standing, looking around for those drinks he had half requested but, more realistically, demanded. His voice became grumbled for a moment as he shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just know they didn't deserve a lick of sympathy from you."

Twilight's brows furrowed, her eyes glancing at Marceline for a moment before ultimately focusing on the report in her hand. Reading the paper, she couldn't help herself. "What the..."

She couldn't help but read the cause of death multiple times. Mauled to death. Mauled? to death? Split open, flayed, butterflied... Her eyes flicked between the cause of the death and the photos provided. Whoever killed this person must have hated them. And.... it seemed the killer wasn't the one who hated them.

Putting the report down, her eyes shifted nervously. "What the hell did my boss get me into..." "I don't think you're cut out for this, frankly." He had placed his feet on the table as he leaned back in the chair, both hands plopped behind his head. Something moved behind him, although Twilight couldn't tell what it was.

"Crazy scientists are one thing. Cryptids... they're an entirely different thing."

Cryptids... Twilight had heard of them before, maybe once or twice. Not something she heard much of in Rondo City, much less something she thought she'd ever have to actively deal with for a case. She didn't even have the faintest of the faintest clue, and unlike most cases... Rue wasn't there to make up for the gaps she had.

She... didn't realize how much she missed having him around, now that he wasn't there. Annoying one moment... leaving a hole in her life the next.

"You don't belong here. You should tell Azure and Haruka as much. If you stay here much longer, you'll never leave." "Are you always so harsh to people?" "You've got someone you're missing right now, don't you?"

Her face always seemed to betray her in such critical moments like that. The soft chuckle made her fists tremble. "You can't reunite with them if you die. If you want to stay, you should really think about it first."

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the ground. They were counting on her, counting on her to bring closure, to bring justice, to bring... something. She was frustrated. Biting her thumb, she silently cursed at him. His eyes... something about them seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. She felt as if she knew him... knew someone like him.

"I can't leave. It's my job."

Marceline snorted, moving one of his hands as he reached out. His fingers lightly grazed her lips, part of her throat freezing up at the touch. Her eyes trembled slightly, her body stepping back instinctively. "Even if it means you'll be stuck here?" His nails dug into her lip, tearing it open with an ease she's never witnessed before. Taking another step back, her fingers lightly patted her bloody lips. Seeing crimson painting her fingertips, Twilight closed her eyes tightly. She hated seeing blood.

"Are you just here to make me want to leave, or are you actually going to be of some use?"

Another chuckle. She felt she might lose it.

"My apologies. Axie moves the sodas to a different area of the fridge." Charon's voice caught Twilight by surprise, the young detective completely forgetting the sweet girl was even there. Placing a soda can and a cup of red wine down on the table, she smiled warmly. "I wasn't sure what to get Miss Twilight, so I grabbed a can of root beer. I hope that's okay?" Twilight sighed a bit, scratching her head. Root beer... couldn't remember the last time she had one of those. "It's fine. Thank you for the drink, Charon. And... really, you can just call me Twilight."

...

She didn't remember how long it was that she had been sitting in the dimly lit library, buried up to her neck in books. Spreading out the different materials in front of her, she clicked the tip of her pen as she extended her arms.

The Vivisector. The Ferryman. The Void Visage. The Hellborne. The Sin of Pride. The Angels.

She scratched her head. Many of these creatures didn't even sound real... Marceline was right- though let the lord never make her admit that aloud- Cryptids, as the town called them, were much different beasts from the human villains she was used to dealing with in Rondo City. Quite literally, in some cases.

"The Hellborne... that's my victim, isn't it?" Holding the death file next to the notebook, Twilight tilted her head slightly. A tall, masculine-presenting person with long brown and red hair, red eyes, wearing a black business suit. A cryptid who nearly killed an entire town's worth of innocent people. "... I can see what you meant by they got what was coming to them." Her eyes kept wandering towards the white-haired man, who only gave a half-hearted shrug in response.

"Good evening, Marceline. Charon." Another voice broke the stillness, and Twilight swore her heart was trying to leap out of her chest. Peeking above the cascade of novels she had buried herself in, Twilight couldn't help but squint. A bad habit, she knew, straining her eyes to see wasn't quite the best play. She couldn't help it, though. Everything- everyone- in this town was suspect.

"Lady Azure. How is Father Haru doing?" "He is doing well. Resting at home, today's visit took quite a toll on him. Where is that detective?" "She's hiding~" Twilight couldn't see much... just a pair of... ears? If those were ears, they were quite... big? Tall? Large? She wasn't quite sure. Sticking up her hand- it reminded her of when she would sit in class, and you had to raise your hand to answer the question. "I'm right here."

The sound of heels clicked against the hardwood floor, and a hand appeared by the side of the desk shortly after. Before her stood a young lady with fox-like features, wearing what Twilight could only describe as cottage casual. A part of her felt jealous; they had nothing like that in the neon city. "Oh, there you are. You're Twilight, no?" Nodding, the young woman rubbed her chin for a moment before nodding along. "I am Azure Akuchi-Perriere." She took a small bow, and suddenly, Twilight understood just where Charon got all her mannerisms from. Waving awkwardly, Twilight could help but feel slightly... out of place. Seriously... why was everyone in this town so weird? "It's nice to meet you. Marceline was... maybe not quite "kind", but he gave me some material to read." Gesturing to the book cascade around her, Twilight laughed nervously. Azure nodded, although she could have sworn she saw her throw a glare in the man's direction.

"I heard. I apologize for being late; however, there were two files he could not provide you." As if on cue, Azure produced two manila folders from her purse, laying them gently on the table before her. Two folders, yet the title of one of them...

"The Scarlet Covenant?" She couldn't help herself from picking it up. Her mother had mentioned him once, a man so feared that even speaking his name was enough to strike fear into any petty criminal running around Rondo City. Her brows furrowed. Was this the same one? The same one her mother used to tell her as a cautionary story. "He's real?" "You've heard of him? Thought the bastard was pretty unknown outside of Frosthelm."

Looking up, Twilight gripped the folder in her hands tightly. "Oh, uh... yeah. A criminal so brutal and so infamous that he became the stuff of cautionary tales. I always thought he was one of those made-up stories parents tell their children to make them behave... like the Infinite Eucharist." Her eyes focused on the folder, yet her hands couldn't bring themselves to open it. She wasn't sure why. "I used to be terrified of him when I was little." She couldn't help but notice the way Azure and Marceline exchanged looks. She glanced at the other folder. The Befallen. Sounded ominous, like every other damn creature in this town, apparently.

"These files are police property, but they agreed to let you borrow them for your investigation-" "No need. I already know that the killer I'm here for is the Covenant." Twilight said it with such confidence that she also forgot her deduction speed wasn't normal. Placing the file down, Twilight placed her hands on her lap for a moment, fiddling with her skirt. Picking up the root beer, she paused a moment. "Sorry. The victim was attacked before they were killed, correct? The attack pattern isn't reminiscent of anything in the other files. There's nothing suggesting a blade or any kind of physical instrument was used. That automatically rules out the Void Visage and the Vivisector." Tapping her chin, she continued. "There are also no indications of bite marks or claw marks on the body anywhere, which rules out the Ferryman. And- nothing was stolen from the body."

Placing the can on the desk, she picked up the file of the Covenant, flipping it open out of curiosity. Placing the victim's photos next to it, her fingers traced the words of the forbidden file before stopping just above the blank photo. "That right there." Her finger tapped it once, and she couldn't help but notice the warmth radiating from the adults as they surrounded her. "Uh... what are we looking at?" "Our legends and this file share a common fact.. one I couldn't help but notice was also present at the scene, although it probably went unnoticed," Twilight explained, her nails tapping the file. "The Covenant had pink hair... pink fur? There's pink hair on the body, right... there. It's in all shots of the crime scene on roughly the same areas of the body, but not in their original photo in their file."

Scratching her chin, Azure mumbled to herself. "That was... an impressively fast deduction. I was on the scene myself, and even I didn't catch that." Marceline's face twisted up, seemingly displeased. "Hasn't the guy been missing for the past thirty years, though? I mean, what are the chances?" Twilight paused, her fingers lightly tapping the table. "Yeah, and so was the Vivisector, and the Void Visage. But you guys don't scream "missing" to me." Instinctively, Twilight elbowed Marceline in the side lightly, almost as if she were teasing him. Shaking her head lightly, Twilight's fingers tapped her lip. Her chest ached a little bit as she looked up to meet the gazes of the two cryptids. "So you're not as unassuming as I thought. When'd you figure it out?"

So he wasn't even trying to hide it. Good. He was doing better than someone she knew when he was found for being something less than stellar.

Twilight cocked her head to the side. "You don't seem very surprised." She remarked. Lifting up her hand, she gently pushed his bangs aside. Her fingers lingered by his cheek, accompanied by the small pursing of his lips. "You were the one who was following Charon and me on our way back to the library, weren't you? Watching us in the forest by the bridge?" Twilight lowered her hand, lightly messing with her lip. It was a bit of a habit, something she did when she was nervous. And, she wouldn't lie, she was nervous. Surrounded by two well-known killers, who wouldn't be?

"You were?" It seemed to come as a surprise to the Void Visage, shock in her voice as she spoke. The Vivisector simply shrugged, his hands laying against the nape of his neck as he huffed. "Just made sure they didn't get attacked before making it to the safe spot. That's it. Nothing personal. What intrigues me more..." His nails lightly poked the underside of Twilight's neck, the cold metallic feeling making her shudder. "Is that our detective here didn't bother saying anything. I could have been anyone." Closing her eyes, she gulped nervously. Tugging her lip lightly, Twilight whimpered slightly. She hated the feeling, quite literally a sitting duck in the jaws of two ravenous beasts.

"I know what it's like to be followed. It's become more of a vibe you feel. It's not something I can actively confirm..." She gulped. "But it was something you actively admitted to doing." His fingers twitched, his nail digging into her neck. Uncomfortable, she thought. Uncomfortable, but not painful. That, she decided, was a plus. "She does have a point." She felt sorry for Azure; the poor lady caught strays just by being here.

"... I suppose." She could hear as his hand fell to his side, cracking open one eye nervously. She couldn't help herself. She was nervous, yet she couldn't help but look forward to the next set of events. "It's just a theory, but I think the killer I'm looking for is the Covenant..." She gulped nervously, scratching her lip with a weak laugh.

“I’m sorry, but her conditions gone critical, Kadence. We can’t have guests in the hospital today.”

That dream never got to happen, though. I worried that maybe you had forgotten all about it. That was stupid, in hindsight.

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"My birthday’s coming up! It’s so weird to think about, soon, I’ll be 23 years old!"

Kadence’s eyes felt heavy as he began to nod off. A gentle nudge against his shoulder wasn’t enough to stir the tired soul.

"Kadence! Kadence, wake up!"

She placed both her hands on the man’s shoulders. Shifting around slowly, she crawled onto his lap- she wasn’t used to maneuvering around, her feet still felt unsteady, unstable- placing both hands on his shoulders. Mustering all her strength, it wasn’t much, she attempted to shake him awake. However, instead, she only managed to knock them both over.

Squealing, she landed on top of him. Kadence’s body sunk into the plush mattress, his head slumping against the soft throw pillows underneath him. Aria’s face flushed as she sat up.

"Kadence! Ugh, were you even listening?!"

Limply lifting up an arm, he made a “shoo” motion, flicking his wrist sassily before letting fall limply by his side.

"Old woman Aria… tis a’ tragedy."

"I’m not an old woman?! I’m not even 30!!"

Pouncing down on him with her might, she rattled him, or, made an attempt to. He yelped slightly, jerking in place. His hands gripped Aria’s arms tightly. Staring up at her with those big blue and yellow eyes- those same eyes that she had fallen for 16 years prior- his brows furrowed as he rolled his eyes.

"Don't jump on me like that. At best, it's just weird. At worst, you could fall and break something... else."

"... oh."

Sitting up, Kadence eyed Aria up and down before sighing softly. Then, butting his head against Aria's head, he yawned. He wasn't wrong; her bones weren't the strongest things there, and she'd already spent so much of her childhood in the hospital. She didn't really want to spend any more if she could help it.

"You're turning 23, and you wanted to have a party like you wanted to when you were 16. Of course, I was listening to you. I was also falling asleep, but, hey!"

Lifting his hand, he swept her messy brown bangs to the side with a soft smile. Her baby blue eyes met his, a nervous expression forming on her lips. Well, this was awkward, he really was listening.

“Oh."

Twiddling her fingers together as she looked down, Aria pouted. Birthday, birthday...

“I don't know, though..."

"What's wrong?"

Looking up, Aria scratched the back of her neck nervously. She can't help but think back on her original dream for her sweet 16th. For a 23-year-old planning a party... dressing up as a princess was so embarrassing now! Shifting off of Kadence's lap, she reached over, opening the bedside table drawer slowly. Pulling out a piece of crinkled paper, Aria ran her thumb lightly over it.

Childish drawings littered the paper, tiny stick figures dressed in crayon dresses and suits, with childish arcs covered in crayon flowers and crude attempts at balloons, cakes, and people who weren't here in their lives anymore. A twinge of pain singed in her chest, something she couldn't quite figure out.

A hand reached over, gently clasped over her own. Shifting on the bed, he sat next to her. Bumping her shoulder with his own, he laid his head against hers as they gazed at the old piece of paper. His hair curled against hers, a soft chuckle.

"Man, your drawing skills haven't changed at all, huh?"

"Rude! I'm just saying... well..."

Her eyes fell back onto the paper, her fingers softly grazing upon its surface. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft sigh, twiddling her thumbs nervously.

"It just seems all so silly now... I can't even tell what some of these things are supposed to be! Like... are these supposed to be flowers??

Stretching, Kadence groaned. Then, leaning back, he cocked his head to the side.

"Are you still trying to follow the plans of the 16-year-old you?"

"... I don't know. I never thought I'd make it this far."

Her eyes shifted away, her fingers gently folding up the paper, holding it gently between her thumbs. Gazing out of the window, Aria's mind wandered. Maybe she was too old for this?

Shrugging casually, he looked off to the side. He never understood her hesitance, in all honesty. She made it this far; what was there to be worried about? Reaching his hand out, his fingers brushed against Aria's hair.

"Do whatever makes you happy. You're the one who made it this far, and I don't mind spending the day the way you'd like to. You know, as your very kind and very generous boyfriend."

Partly sarcastic, but deep down, Kadence was being as honest as he could. To him, he was willing to do whatever it took to make her day as special as she wanted. Rain, shine, princess... or something more mature for a 23-year-old. It didn't really matter, not as long as- by the end of the day- she was smiling.

"I don't really care what you do. I'll carry you around if I really have to. So, stop being stupid, Ars."

"Can't you be any nicer to me..."

Well, he was being nice. He was trying to. It's not easy being nice, you try being nice to an emotional sea wave like Aria.

In his eyes, it didn't matter. Money? He'd make it himself. Friends? He knew a couple people, a couple artists, he'd surround her with all the people her little heart could desire. Food? He knew how to cook. Nothing would be too much for him. If he could raise the dead for her, he probably would.

"... uhm... well, I did have something in mind. If it's... not too much trouble." "When it's earnest, it's never too much trouble. Hit me with it."

Pulling out a small notebook from the bedside drawer and fishing out a small pen, Aria adjusted the way she sat on the bedding. Flipping it open, Aria held the pen to her lips. Then, furiously scribbling on the lined paper, her eyes lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

"I want to keep the princess theme. Okay, maybe not full princess- but I do want a pretty dress to wear!" Holding up the notebook, she pointed the pen at a doodled version of herself in a dress. His brows furrowed as he studied the dress she envisioned. It looked like a sundress of some kind? A crudly drawn sundress, of course. But still, a sundress. (This would have been a great question for Emory- if she were still around.) Her pen shifted before pointing at him, a mischevious smile forming on her face. "You have to match me, it's a necessity!" "Pass." He said, like a liar. "And I want the party to be outside somewhere! A garden? Or... maybe the beach!" Her pen lightly circled the crudely drawn outdoor area. He really... couldn't tell. There were dots, some lines, and a little circle in the corner- was that meant to be the sun? He stifled a laugh as he nodded. "And- I want a bouquet of flowers." Her pen slid across the paper, furiously circling a doodled flower bouquet. And by "flower", he meant just that. A singular flower, wrapped in what he could only assume was plastic.

"Maybe you should ask for something more realistic. Like decent drawing skills."

"I'm ignoring that comment."

Her pout made him laugh, but only a little. He couldn't poke too much fun at her. Then people might really assume him a bully.

Leaning in, he found his finger lightly pointing at something on the paper. Something small, yet- "What about that?" Aria's eyes flickered with the same light from 8 years prior, something Kadence didn't even realize how much he missed seeing. "It's a camera. One of those disposable kinds." She explained. She wanted photos? "I want to remember this day... and I want something we can look back on. Something physical." Her hands hovered over the notebook for a moment. A gentle smile formed on her face.

"I tried to aim for something more... realistic. I mean, we're both broke adults, and being a princess sounds so expensive!"

Oh. The things I do for love.

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He remembered the day of Aria's 16th birthday. It was one of the worst days of his life; he couldn't imagine how it felt for her.

His head lay against his knees as he curled up in the hospital chair, blankly staring at nothing. Critical? He didn't understand.

A small bouquet of flowers and a small, crudely made card lay by the side of the chair. He had proudly bought it with his own chore money just that morning and even made his own card at the last minute. She was talking to him over the phone, laughing at nothing, giggling at minimal. She seemed so lively just this morning.

"..."

But only silence remained, hushed whispers and frantic footsteps filling the corridors. His eyes felt tired. His head ached. The silence was almost deafening. He felt something... he didn't really like it.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

The day came a lot faster than he thought it would. Time seemed so much shorter than he needed as much of it as he could get. His hands trembled slightly as he folded the white floral sundress as neatly as he could, placing it into the light blue box. He couldn't stop himself from shaking; he wasn't sure why. It kind of felt like his world was coming to an end.

He lifted up a small card, the same one he nearly lost in the hospital several years prior. His fingers trembled as he opened it, his eyes glancing over the crudely made card. Happy birthday was written in all capital letters, in that same glittery pen that Kadence has always sworn was too girly and ugly for him. His eyes burned the more he stared at it. His thumb brushed against the glittery abomination, his lips pursing as he placed it down gently on top of the other card (one he had bought from the corner store while buying snacks the other day). His fingers twitched slightly as he picked up the lid of the box, gently placing it down on the gift box.

He picked up the matching white ribbon that had come with the gift box. His hands scooped up the instructions, his brows furrowed as he read over them. How to tie a bow... well, it certainly didn't look much like the photo, he thought. But it would have to do.

He picked up his phone, swiping off the lock screen. His fingers twitched slightly as he opened up his notes.

Prepare the gifts. He did that already. That's good.

Prepare the bicycle. He already did that, too. He even bought a cute little woven basket.

Buy the flowers. He did that too... although it felt a little last-minute. He was thankful Aria stayed behind to do a little extra work for her folks before coming home.

The place he planned wasn't far, and thankfully, there wasn't even a cloud in sight. He glanced at his watch. Aria should be home any minute now. He glanced down at his clothes, a black tank top and shorts. This... probably would not fly with the birthday girl.

Prepare your outfit... he wasn't even sure why he put that on the list; he knew damn well he wouldn't bother with that. Maybe it was whatever remained of Emory's teachings. He'd blame it on that.

His fingers brushed against his chin as he thought about it. Something to match... Emory wasn't a fashionista, but she did major in photography. It was something she took pride in. She always ranted about photo composition... photo balance, nerd shit like that. He glanced down at the camera he bought. A chunky yellow Polaroid-styled camera. A yellow camera...

He dug through his drawers before pulling out a pair of yellow shorts. Digging a little more, a yellow and white shirt. Yellow, just like the camera... he could make it work.

The door opened, and that every familiar "I'm hoooome~" rang through the air. Not like she'd be home for long, he thought. Peeking his head out of the bedroom door as he messed with his shirt.

"Sup. Don't take your shoes off yet."

"Huh? Are we going out?"

She was clueless in a way that Kadence found almost hard to believe. He disappeared back into the bedroom, snatching up the gift box before heading out.

"Yeah. It's not far, you can rest once we get there. But, here. This is for you."

He handed off the giftbox to the confused girl, his eyes averting her gaze. His face felt a little hot. Her lips parted a bit in confusion as she opened the box.

"Aww... what is this?" "It's not quite a princess dress, but..."

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she placed the two cards under her arm, unfolding the sundress with gentle care. Her eyes focused on the dress for a moment before shifting, looking up at her companion. A glisten in her eyes appeared, and then a gentle gasp.

"Kadence... oh, it's such a beautiful dress..."

Her fingers lightly dusted the surface of the dress, a smitten expression spreading through her features. She couldn't help herself, after all. He couldn't bear it much more, his hand gently shoving her towards the bathroom. He could barely get the words out, but the gesture was understood.

...

She couldn't stop herself from admiring the dress in the mirror. It wasn't a princess by any means, that he was right about. Oh, but she felt like a princess. She felt more than a princess; she felt more like a queen. She felt so loved.

Turning around in the mirror, she couldn't help but giggle. It was such a pretty, such a flowy dress. She felt so beautiful in it. The flowers were such a cute touch; she can't remember the last time she had gotten a gift so sweet.

"Hey, did you fall over or something? You're taking an awful while in there."

Ah, she kind of forgot he was waiting on her. She almost tripped over herself trying to come out. That was kind of embarrassing... but she just couldn't keep herself from smiling.

"Sorry, I was just admiring the dress in the mirror! It's so pretty... It's even better than anything princess could offer."

His face flushed as he looked away. Such sweet words... don't you ever get sick of that sugary tongue? Motioning with his hand, he led her outside. The bicycle was decorated with fake flowers and bells... it looked so pretty.

"We're going out. Get on the bike. The place isn't far."

...

It wasn't anything fancy, just a small unused gazebo by the beach. A small and secluded area, Kadence had found on his search. And- it was free. Pulling up to the gazebo, Kadence parked the bike right beside it. Then, offering her his hand, he helped her off the bike. Reaching up, he smoothed her hair with a small smile, smoothing the creases in her dress with the back of his hand. He reached into the small basket, moving aside the bouquet of daisies he had bought her. Pulling out a small container of cupcakes, he glanced at her.

"... I uh. I got us some cupcakes."

He held them out awkwardly. He wasn't sure what he was doing, he wasn't sure if it was even working.

"I can see that, you dork." "I also got this gazebo. Oh-" Putting the cupcakes down on the wooden table, he reached out into the basket again, pulling out the same chunky yellow camera. "-I also brought this along. They only had it in yellow, though... I hope you don't mind."

Her lips parted for a moment before a laugh bubbled out. "Yellow is my favorite color!" Oh yeah, he supposed it was. He didn't quite forget that fact... but he wasn't actively thinking about it at the time.

Taking his arm, she smiled. She could tell, though it was all so simple... he put so much thought into it all. He hit every dream she had and yet... she had gotten so much more out of it all.

"Hey... aren't you gonna say it? Tell me, happy birthday! You've already done all this..." He raised a brow, sighing a bit as he adjusted his arms. "So childish..." "Come on come on, say it!" She couldn't contain her excitement, her happiness, her joy. It was so simple...

...

"Alright, alright. Happy birthday, Aria."

One million followers. That was their original goal.

If he were to be honest... he didn't think it was doable. He thought, even if they got lucky... a million was a pipe dream.

And yet...

"The buttons for your K-ANGEL outfit popped off during the last stream... so I found some sewing tutorials and sewed it back on for you."

She held out the light blue jacket in her arms, the iridescent fabric shimmering under the room light. His fingers twitched slightly as he picked up the jacket from Ame's arms, his fingers rubbing against the button. His brows furrowed slightly, something in his chest stirring.

Despite all her efforts, helping manage him and those internet grapplers, he felt... quite hollow inside. He looked at her and felt... nothing. And soon, faced with the comments on his "I BOUGHT A NEW HOME?!" stream archive, a slew of nauseating positive and congratulatory horseshit, he knew....

That this "nothingness" was his biggest problem.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

He lay against the door to the locked bathroom, letting the shower run with no one inside it. They had over a million followers who paid their bills, he knew he could afford to let the water run a bit.

It bothered him just how... easy it was. Of course, he knew it wasn't truly easy; it required hard work from both him and Ame. Sleepless nights filled with planning, notebooks filled with ideas for streams, nights learning how to sew from scratch, how to design outfits for streams, investing in the best equipment...

But... between the work schedule, the money they made, all the material goods they bought... the memories they made, everything was just so...

"It's all so bland."

Despite everything... deep down, he resented it all.

His nails dragged down his scalp, his face twisted into an unpleasant expression. He glanced at the bathroom counter, a counter filled with the products they had bought together as they started this new chapter of their life.

He placed his fingers down on the counter, carefully messing around with the busy countertop.

"Hair shampoo... makeup pallets... fancy brushes..."

His hand grasped against a bottle of perfume. It was Ame's favorite. "After the Rain", in a glass bottle he bought in the shape of a rainbow and clouds. He bought it for her, as a thank you gift when they reached 10,000 followers. Really, without her hard work and dedication... he knew he wouldn't have been able to make it.

They were rather close to their goal, no, really, they had surpassed it, and yet... he felt nothing. He felt empty. He thought he'd be excited, ecstatic, pumped... hell, he even thought he'd be afraid.

But he. felt. nothing. Maybe that was why he loved the magic grass and magic paper so much... well, no, not loved. He was addicted to it. Like many things in his life... he had the money to burn on what he knew was an unhealthy habit.

I just don't really care.

His hand trembled slightly, gripping the bottle of perfume tightly. He glanced up at the mirror, and he could have sworn even his own reflection wanted to betray him.

He looked just like him. That same peachy skin, that same ice white hair, those same blue eyes that always looked just a tad bit unsettling when he opened them a little too wide. His fingers tugged at the deep purple turtleneck he was wearing. He had to burn it later on.

"You're his son. They'll find you, sooner or later. They always do."

It wasn't fair. It was all just some kind of cruel and unusual joke. It had to be.

"You know you can't escape it. What we are… Who we are. Angie, I know you hate him as much as I do, but-"

His hands trembled as he covered his eyes with his free hand. The shower should have fogged up the damn mirror by now. But no, he can still see it, clear as day. He rubbed his temple with a frown, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

"I don't care."

"Maybe you don't care. But, that doesn't make my words any less true. Angie, you know that."

Speaking down to him in his own voice... it was insulting. His other hand gripped onto the perfume even harder. The mirror, it was mocking him. Mocking. him. Insulting. It was all insulting.

"I said... I don't.... CARE!"

-- CRACK!

His chest rose and fell as he snuck into the back wall behind him. His eyes were fixed on the mirror in front of it and the broken perfume bottle pieces at the foot of the mirror. They both shattered, pieces of glass strewn about everywhere.

It's okay.

He can replace both of them. The cost didn't matter. It never really did.

His eyes shifted to the shower. They say a shower can refresh the mind and the body.

I just hope, for his sake, it's true. Or else… you’ll never make it on the last train back home.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

"What if we did a cooking stream tonight? The viewers love the more real-life setting streams, we got a ton of followers from it."

She was so kind. So calculating. She kept track of everything, the numbers, the followers count, what streams brought in the most people, the things the people wanted to see, she even moderated his chats and took over his Tweeter for him. She was the only thing that truly kept his initial dreams alive.

He never had the heart to tell her that he stopped caring a long, long time ago.

"A cooking stream?" He had to pretend he still did. Even if he felt nothing but emptiness towards it. "That's a great idea, Ame!" He wasn't lying, though; it would have been a great idea... if he truly cared.

He wrapped his arms around Ame, pulling the purple-haired girl closer to his chest. She paused a moment, her fingers lingering by his sides for a moment, before eventually embracing the taller man. She smelled like apples. (He couldn't tell her that he shattered her favorite perfume after he threw it at his reflection.)

His fingers curled through her hair, rubbing against the purple strands, as soft as silk. It was his second favorite part of Ame, he thought. The feeling of her hair between his fingers was a simple but... unbeatable pleasure. The joy he got from braiding her hair was small, but, for once, it was something that made him feel anything but hollow inside. His only issue with it was... It never lasted.

"What in the world would I even cook, though?"

"I'm not sure. It's a nice day out this week... maybe we could go cook on the grill tomorrow?"

Scratching his chin, Angel tilted his head to the side, pondering it. Grilling... it wasn't a terrible idea, and he wouldn't mind eating some freshly grilled steak on a nice summer's day like this. It was definitely one of her best ideas yet...

But cooking in the K-ANGEL set up? He... would have to see about that. That outfit... I mean, he was sure if he was careful about it, he could pull it off. And if it got ruined... It can just be replaced, like everything else.

"Hmm... I see, I see... let's go with that, then! I can put some steak to marinate in preparation for it!"

Of course, he’d have to go out and buy some. He worried that if Ame took the train, she’d get lost and he’d lose the only thing left he truly cared for.

He was willing to make that trip, even if he really didn’t want to. Maybe he should just hire someone to run their errands for them… he could afford it.

All this money… they had all this money, so many things they could spend it on. Luxury goods, cars, houses, even people to cater to them. He could afford to give Ame the life she truly deserved for all the hard work and dedication she put in, but…

…

He paused a moment, glancing at himself in the cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection was all cracked up and distorted, like he broke the person he was inside when he started this journey.

He thought, maybe at some point, that the emptiness he felt would be replaced by something else. Something proud or overjoyed. They had reached that threshold, passed beyond it with flying colors… he began to wonder if that threshold, that feeling of satisfaction, would always be out of his reach.

His eyes scanned the buckets of different foundations. Most of these he had only used once in an attempt to find which one he likes the most, which ones worked well with him and Ame. Several of these will never be used again. His fingers scooped up one of the foundations at random; it'll have to do.

He glanced down at the counter, eyes flickering across the makeup palettes. Countless palettes he only bought because he thought they were pretty. Palettes he may never use. They were all different kinds of colors… some of them blue, some purple, some red, and even this rare (but rather beautiful) golden palette. He picked up the light blue palette at the top of the pile (it always ended up being his tried and true palette anyways) with a resignation.

"I don’t think you can cover up that emptiness with makeup.”

… even when shattered into pieces, he never ceases to piss himself off. And he knew it, deep down inside already. He was trying to cover a crater with a small bandage. He was trying to hide a never-ending hunger. The same one that kept eating him alive.

He was trying to cover up something that would come out eventually.

"I pity you. I pity us."

His fingers twitched slightly as he opened up the blue palette carefully. Shaped in a cloud with a small mirror on the top, Angel glanced at his reflection in the small palette mirror. He reached his hand to the small cup of makeup brushes, scooping it up. Sitting on the counter, he hummed as he used the brush to carefully apply his makeup.

He always loved wearing makeup, but he could hardly afford it back then... And now, he can afford as much as he wants.

“Where are you going?"

"Shopping."

“You're always so short with me. Is she consuming you already?"

Angel's side eye in the edge of the mirror was enough to offend. The man in the mirror was so annoying. Trying to moral compass him... looking just like him. Like them.

He slid his fingers through the endless number of lipsticks. Blue, purple, green.... his fingers tilted through them all, pondering which one to wear. His brows furrowed as he picked up a pink lipstick, his lips pursed.

"Because."

“Because?"

"Because."

Maybe he should have seen that response coming.

...

"I made you some coffee while you were getting ready."

Ame held out a small coffee, cupped up in a sparkly Starbucks tumbler. She always knew what he needed, even if he didn't know himself. Gently taking the coffee tumbler from Ame's hand, Angel leaned in. Placing a hand on her forehead, he pushed her bangs back. Then, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he whispered a thank you.

"Is there anything else I should get while I'm out?"

Tapping her chin, the girl seemed to go into deep thought. Things they needed... she struggled to think of any one specific thing. Foods... she couldn't think of anything, no, not off the top of her head.

Shaking her head no, Ame frowned slightly. Nodding slowly, Angel hummed. It's okay, he thought. He'd just buy whatever caught his eye. Lifting the coffee up to his lips, Angel yawned. He glanced down at his watch, noting the time. By the time he would have gotten back…

… well, he could always order dinner. If he had any clue what he wanted to eat... he could always order a bit of whatever was close. It'd be leftovers for days, though... he'd never be able to decide.

Money can't really buy decisiveness, can it?

"Do you have anything you want to eat for dinner? I don't think I'll have the time to cook with all the grocery shopping needed for tomorrow's stream."

Maybe she'd have an idea. He wasn't entirely hungry himself... although, he couldn't remember the last time he craved anything specific.

"Maybe we could get some cheeseburgers and french fries?"

Sure. He could work with that.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

His hand lay flat again on the tram subway's metal pole. The trains were always so crowded at this time of day; however, it didn't seem to bother Angel as much as he thought. Maybe something in him was still intact, even if it felt like the rest of him was broken.

His eyes shifted, glancing around among the multitude of people. So many people on the train, so many plain people. So many hypocrites, although Angel didn't feel he was one to judge. His eyes felt heavy. There were so many people, so many uninteresting people... his brows furrowed as he pulled out his phone.

Tweeter... he shifted against the wall that he lay against, his phone in hand. Flickering through his feed, his eyes scanned. So many comments about "K-Angel", so many blank comments with blank faces, so many fakers and liars. They'll say they love you to your face one second and hate you the next behind their glass protective screens.

It's funny, they think they're the only ones who can do that.

He stared at the feed, his brows furrowed. Streaming for these people? It was such a drag, such a boring and utter drag. Filthy, attention-hungry pigs, he wanted nothing more than to watch their slaughter. To kick them, spit at them, to watch them squirm and writhe like the ugly maggots he knew they truly were on their insides.

But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Ame spent so much time helping him build up a dream he didn't know he didn't want. He couldn't tear down that empire they had built together with their own two hands. Despite the emptiness, the thought made him upset. He couldn't dare to talk to her, to complain to her, he couldn't even complain to the devoid abyss that was his main, Ame followed it. She'd find out... she'd know.

And that thought filled him with an anger he couldn't describe. He was stuck in an abyss of his own making.

... an abyss... of his own making?

His eyes fell on the profile screen of his Tweeter account. An abyss of his own making... if he couldn't complain on his main, maybe he could make his own abyss to complain into. One that he'd make sure the one thing he still felt for could never find.

Abyss... his fingers tapped on the log out button, his dead blue eyes flickering as he watched the "log in" screen. And his new possible savior... he had an extra email account, it was where he sent all his spam and telemarketing junk, to let it all rot, unseen and frankly- unwanted.

The "create a username" flashed on screen. While he was aware that anyone could find an account if they tried hard enough, his brows furrowed again. A username... a username... what could he use as a username? Abyss... abyss... a thought popped into his head. His fingers tapped away, "Abyss@fmPf1KVp6" popping into the username bar.

The trains trembled as they shifted violently, skidding to a stop as it entered the next station. His eyes flickered, his grip loosening on the bar as he shifted towards the exit. He wasn't ignorant of the surrounding whispers, though.

"That guy looks familiar..." "That white hair is so striking! Where have I seen it before?"

You could have seen it from anywhere. Online, in articles, passing through in public, or perhaps in certain, special inner circles... if he were that unlucky. He pushed up his sunglasses, trying to hide his annoyance.

...

He shifted through the crowded station, fishing out his train card as he queued up to exit the station. Flicking out of Tweeter, he pulled up a grocery list on his phone. (Or, his attempt at a grocery list anyway. He felt like his ability to make a good grocery list had deteriorated severely.)

His vision shifted around, looking at the shops on the street. A grilling stream... he'd be best starting off with a butcher's shop. He remembered being in awe of how expensive the meat in there was... but now, he's in awe that he can afford it all, no worries. Or, he'd be in awe if he remembered how it felt to do so.

Placing his phone into his inner pocket, he glanced around. There were so many people there, some dressed normally, some dressed in such elaborate outfits, you'd mistake them for characters straight out of a video game or anime. Messy red and black hair, neatly combed back brown hair, women with perfectly maintained blonde hair... His fingers twitched as he tugged at the dark blue collar of his shirt absentmindedly. Why did he choose to wear dark blue today? He hated the way dark blue looked on him. Was this even his shirt...?

"Note to self... buy a new set of shirts. Maybe not in dark blue though?"

"You don't look terrible in dark blue, though?"

His eyes widen slightly, hearing a voice so like his, yet so foreign. He stumbled to a stop, his eyes shooting from his phone in a panic. He skidded to a sudden, sharp stop, almost certain he'd bump into someone. However, that was the oddest part. The once overwhelming square was suddenly...

empty.

None of those boring characters were around, and Angel certainly didn't see any of the arguably more... interesting-looking characters either. In fact, he saw only one person...

"So you're coming out of mirrors now? Can't I catch a break?"

The apparition didn't respond, simply smiling as his white hair blew in the wind. Angel's brows furrowed as he stared at his exact copy. The same white hair, the same striking blue eyes... they were even wearing the same outfit and the same makeup. They could have looked like twins.

"There's not much time left, you know."

"Not much time left for what..?"

For once, that initial hatred was replaced with a feeling of...... confusion? Not much time left... but for what? He didn't understand. What could it know that he didn't...?

With its hands clasped behind its back and that smile still on its face, Angel watched closely as it moved. He noticed how the ground rippled beneath his feet, almost like stepping in a water puddle. His eye twitched slightly as it came closer, standing toe to toe with him.

"This me is such a useless mangle of parts."

It leaned in close, its white hair curling against Angel's collar. There was a coldness in its eyes- a coldness Angel wasn't aware his own eyes could hold. It bothered him. His eyes narrowed, a chilling frustration icing through his veins. He didn't understand.

"What are you calling a useless mangle of parts, asshole?"

His chest burned; he could tell something was wrong. But what was it? What was it? Its hand lifted up, gripping the edge of his collar. His hands clamped up, his eyes squeezing shut. His hands twitched slightly as he suddenly lunged, driving his arms into the apparition's chest. He listened as it stumbled back, crashing into the ground with a loud thud.

Then... silence. An odd, eerie silence. Cracking his eye open slightly, he peeked around at the ground. He paused slightly, seeing the feet of people passing by. Then, opening his eyes fully, he glanced around. He was... back? He... was back. His eyes shifted around before glancing at his hand. Oh... no wonder his hand felt so light.

Bending down, he picked up his fallen phone, looking at the screen. His brows furrowed. Was that the thud he had heard? Turning the phone in his hand, he sighed. At least it wasn't cracked... not that he couldn't afford it, but it was better to limit such mild inconveniences as much as possible.

Turning it on, a post series caught him off guard. On his abyss account, posts he didn't quite remember making.

Abyss@fmPf1KVp6: "DM'd Candy... I guess pretending to be happy isn't all that bad."

His brow raised as he flicked to his messages app. And there it was, a message sent just 10 minutes earlier. A message thanking her for everything she did for him. He knew he had to do that at some point... but he didn't remember doing it then.

Mandela_Angel: "You make me so happy, and life is sooo good! And, its all because of you, Cannnndy!"

Huh.

He shook his head as he slid his phone back into his pocket, making his way down the street. He still had errands to run, despite all his confusion.

...

"Hello and welcome to the Skyline Butcher Shop!"

With a wave, Angel glanced around with a soft expression. The Skyline always had so many different meat cuts... ribs, t-bones, New York strips... they even had genuine A5 wagyu, and that was a rarity.

He had no clue how someone would grill that- he wasn't even sure if that was a meat that you could grill. I mean, isn't wagyu made up of a decent amount of fat?

Scratching his head, Angel sighed. That can be a question for a different day. He didn't particularly care about the answer anyway.

"Can I get two cuts of ribeye steak and two cuts of New York strip?"

He pointed at the cuts, nodding along robotically as she asked her questions, pulling out his black card as they moved to the register. He felt so empty, so hopeless, so... monotonous. He began to wonder if there was something wrong with him. He didn't think a healthy person feels so emotionally empty.

"Are you okay, sir?"

He wondered if he had made an expression that worried the poor lady. He wondered if his mask was slipping. He should fix that. He forced a fake smile on his face, one that strained every muscle in his miserable face.

"I'm fine, I'm just thinking. Have a good rest of your day, ma'am."

He still had other things to do, after all. Groceries, gift getting (of course), and-

"... hey, do I know you by chance?"

"Huh?"

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

Standing in front of the grill, Angel ultimately decided he wanted to do a different take on the original stream idea. Wiping away sweat with the back of his hand, Angel yawned.

"Heya, cuties!"

>> woah! What happened to the K-Angel outfit?! >> oh my GOD he's HOT???? >> oooo daddy, save some meat for the rest of us~ >> chat what??

Snickering to himself, he leaned against the small outdoor table. Behind him was a row of meats, vegetables, shrimp, and seafood, all ready to be grilled, just for this stream. He even got hot dogs, burgers, and burger buns, and a bunch of other stuff just for today.

He had decided to do away with the K-Angel outfit for this stream, after some careful consideration. While he could have just bought a new one in the case it had gotten ruined, he figured that, marketing-wise, he could very well get more traction wearing... less than more.

Oh, but nothing inappropriate, perish the thought. (Seriously! This isn't Fallen Angel, he's not trying to get banned off MeTube! I think.) Just a simple sleeveless tank top, some cute jewelry, his favorite pair of cloud-shaped sunglasses, and some shorts with socks and slip-on shoes.

Twirling the metallic grill tongs in his hand, Angel grinned. Oh, they were eating this up. Pun intended. It amazed him, honestly. A little fan servicing never hurt anyone, after all. And that empty feeling remained, despite everything, so he really wasn't all that bothered by the predictable, yet all too shameless comments.

"Today, your favorite internet angel wanted to try something a little different~ Keeps you all on your toes, riiight?"

Winking towards the camera, Angel snickered again. He couldn't help it, really; the fans made it so easy. The fact that they were sitting there, drooling over him, was fact enough for him. He could have been a marketing genius in another life!

...

If he were being honest, he spent so little time paying attention to chat's divided horniness and the confused by the horny side of chat. They couldn't see it, but aside from the food (obviously), his eyes were on the girl, sitting off to the side off-camera, focused so intently on her duties as his moderator.

Such a sweet and patient girl. He owed so much to her for all her help and encouragement. It's hard for him to believe how far they've come in those 4 years...

He was also a little surprised by how much they had changed. From homeless to famous and frivolous... having people know "his "K-Angel's" name and his face, it makes him laugh. It's times like these... where the numbness hurts the most.

"I've noticed a little something, my little cherubs~ I bet you're all suppppper curious about the surprise I mentioned, huh?"

Turning towards the camera, he glanced up at the sky with a soft expression. As if on cue, the doorbell's ring echoed through the house until it reached the backyard. Looking into the camera, he winked, handing off the tongs to Ame before running off.

Ame paused, holding the tongs nervously. Carefully, she entered the camera's view, her long, purple French braid and white outfit being visible to the chat.

Running through the foyer, Angel skidded to the front door. Grabbing the front doors with his hands, he flung them open carelessly. Standing in front of the door was a small group of people, and at the front of that group stood the enigma that allowed that to happen.

"Hiiii Angel!"

Waving excitedly, the brown haired girl waved in excitement, pink eyes glimmering in the sunlight. Behind her stood four people, a pink-haired boy, a black-haired boy, a brown-haired girl, and...

Shifting his demeanor, Angel placed a hand on his hip, flicking his hair out of his face. He knew the girl, he knew his father, but the three guests were...?

"Heya, Myriad. Dad. Dad's...?"

"They're my students! My first years, to be exact."

Raising a brow, he glanced between the three kids standing awkwardly behind his father. Or... rather, the two kids standing normally, and the third looking like a deer in headlights.

"Is she okay?"

Pointing at the jaw-dropped girl, Angel raised a brow in his father's direction. Then, as suddenly as it happened, she blurted something that nearly made him laugh.

"ARE YOU K-ANGEL?!"

...

"Today, I have a few veryyyy special guests here today~"

Motioning their guests into the stream's view with a smirk, Angel smiled. Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, if he were being honest. Meeting someone in a butcher shop right as he was about to leave, someone connected to the very man who brought him into the world.

And that chance meeting... brought everything to this very moment here. Even if, for Angel personally, it was a little... weird.

"My moderator and I, we're not going to be able to eat all this by ourselves... so, I invited some very special guests to our cookout today!"

Picking up his camera, he shifted behind it, pointing it at the five guests with a cheeky laugh.

"Say hi to the camera!"

>> kyahh! oh, that white haired dude is SO pretty! >> yeah he looks JUST like K-Angel! >> gasps! could it be...? >> that pink haired guy is SUCH a vibe hello????

"Aww, look at Kugisaki, she's so embarrassed!"

"Kugisaki! Hey, get off me! AaAAA-"

...

Humming, he turned his back to the camera as he picked up the tongs. Grilling the meat with a soft smile, Angel couldn't help but laugh quietly. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki... they were his dad's first-year students at his silly little teaching job. So, he did end up making something of himself after all.

They were all quite lively- well, two of the three of the students were, anyway. That third one was rather calm and quiet... it reminded him of someone. He wondered if he was the same "Fushiguro" family as his old hermit friend.

And yet... nothing. He felt nothing. He felt absolutely nothing. Not joy, not fear, not despair... not even discomfort in his father's presence. He felt nothing.

A tap on the shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts, his head instinctively turning to see who it was. Glancing up, a pair of familiar blue eyes met his gaze. Pausing a second, Angel glanced back at the grill.

"It's been a while."

"It's been over 10 years, yeah. I'd classify that as a while."

He spoke in a hushed tone, loud enough for only his father's ears to hear. He turned his head back towards the grill as he flipped the patties for the burgers. There was a certain coldness in his voice, one he wasn't sure where it quite came from.

"You seem a little... off. Like you're sad."

"Do I?"

He flipped the burger, a glazed expression on his face. His voice was quiet for a while, as if he grappled with his words. Trying to choose the right words to say. Instead, he glanced over at his purple-haired moderator. His very own blend of hard work and elegance. She was so perfect.

"I'm in a bit of a bind, in all honesty. This is all thanks to her, but..."

It felt a bit shameful to be admitting it out loud. All those dark and terrible thoughts. A void he was afraid of being seen by others... and yet...

"I don't think an ordinary happiness was exactly what I wished for."

He really didn't care. The world could be ending, and he wouldn't be all that unhappy. It's the (un)happy world's end. And yet, he didn't really care.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

ENDING THREE - (UN)HAPPY END WORLD ♥︎

>> Try Again?

The stylist stood with a type of confidence that Himari always envied. It was late at night, far later than Himari ever thought a salon would ever be opened and taking clientele. It was nearly midnight, not a single other person in this store.

Pushing her wild bangs back with her hands, Himari blinked slowly as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed her mirror image. What kind of haircut she wanted...

"I'm... not sure. It's been so long..."

Her fingers shifted as she moved her hair around with a confused expression. Messy. It was messy, choppy, totally uneven. The split ends were rougher than a mama's boy going no contact with his mother.

She hadn't gotten a proper haircut since she was young. Hell, she really couldn't even be fully bothered to take care of it most days, leaving it unbrushed and unwashed for weeks at a time. She was aware it didn't do her any favors, but...

It was something that took her hours to take care of. Hours she didn't enjoy spending. So she'd put it off, and it'd become a mess that took her hours to take care of. Every time, like clockwork.

The young, blonde-haired stylist smiled as she took a step behind the stylist's chair. Her fingers outstretched, gently running through the full length of the mess Himari called her hair.

"It sure is long-" Himari wasn't sure of the full length of her hair herself. It was around the back of her knees, last she checked? It was simply... too much for her alone to handle. "- I don't think I've seen a young woman with hair this long in a good, decent while!"

Her fingers twiddled nervously as she averted her gaze from the mirror. The stylist continued, with that same Barbie bright smile she wore when Angel dropped her off. His own personal suggestion. Normal salons don't always take clients this late, do they?

Her fingers clipped against her hair, just above her ears. Himari glanced up in curiosity, intrigued by her stylist's actions.

"What are you doing...?" "Testing. We use our fingers to gauge the length of your haircut. A pixie cut would look... kind of like this!"

Wiggling her fingers, the stylist laughed heartily. Then, shifting them down, she hummed. Her slender fingers, showcasing different lengths of haircuts she could get, showing that scared little girl different versions of herself. Versions of her that she wasn't even sure could exist outside of a positive imagination. Watching intently, Himari suddenly raised a finger, tapping her lips in thought.

"I think... maybe the one by my shoulders seems like a good length?"

She wasn't quite sure what she was talking about. If she were being completely honest. Taking the suggestion into consideration, the stylist walked around her chair, she nodded. A small smile formed on her face, one that Himari didn't quite understand.

"Of course! We can cut it down to this length, I can give you some layers, shape your hair to better suit your cute little face ^^"

Glancing out the corner of her eye, she could see the stylist grabbing a pair of scissors and some hairspray.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

"You look terrible." "You are so rude."

Himari sighed as she pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Her fingers twitched slightly as she pulled her ramen bowl closer to her.

"You should get a haircut."

"Megumi... I don't think you're one to judge. I mean..."

Pointing at her elder brother's head with her chopsticks, Himari leaned over. Biting into the crunchy chicken with a hum, she shook her head. His hair was spiky; honestly, it defied gravity. She never understood it.

"Just look at you. You look like an off-brand super saiyan."

Scoffing in response, he shook his head. Noodles were pinned between his metal chopsticks, the broth rich and creamy underneath in the black bowl. Between all the more serious events in his life... stupid bickering felt oddly... nice.

"But, don't you think you should get a haircut? It's been years since you last got one."

He wasn't wrong; it had been years since she had gotten a haircut. And her hair was quite... heavy. It hurt like hell to have it in a ponytail for too long, but it wasn't quite sustainable to have it in a braid long term either.

"You should at least think about it. Getting a haircut might be a good reintroduction to society."

A good reintroduction to society... Her chopsticks clinking against the side of the bowl. Her eyes darted away from the bowl, mindlessly picking at the fried chicken on the side of the bowl. Her lips pursed slightly as she picked it up, shaking her head.

"Maybe... I could ask Angel to help me make an appointment, I suppose...?"

"Angel... he's Satoru's kid, isn't he?"

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"And... done!"

The stylist grabbed the edge of Himari's chair, spinning her around to face the mirror. Her hands gently fluffed Himari's hair. Her hair was shorter now, reaching her shoulders. It was layered beautifully, each layer ironed in a way that was very pretty. It flared out towards the world, shaggy but not quite messy.

Himari's hands lightly touched her bangs, squinting at herself in the mirror. She even cut her bangs... Himari wasn't totally aware of how long they had until she no longer had to move them out of her face manually.

"It's a wolfcut. Simple, but elegant, and it frames your face quite well."

Her hands danced across her hair, gently lifting up layered flaps of her hair.

"You can use a simple shampoo and conditioner to wash your hair; you don't need anything all too fancy to care for it. It's rather easy to maintain as well."

"Okay..."

She looked like a completely new person. Totally different. Even if she came in, wearing the same plain black sweater and black tights, she felt... lighter. Like a weight was lifted off her shoulders...

Metaphorically and literally.

Bowing slightly, she thanked the lady profusely, handing over the black card she had been given for her day to day expenses.

"Oh, uhm... did you have any suggestions for a good shampoo and conditioner?"

...

Stepping out into the cool night, she glanced around with a nervous expression. That's when she spotted him, sitting on the top of a bench, bundled up in that signature large, light blue jacket, his white leg warmers pulled over the black boots he had worn, his soft white hair blowing in the gentle wind. His eyes were fluttered closed, the light blue cloud shaped sunglasses laying on the floor in front of him.

She walked over quietly until she stood side by side with him. She bent down, picking up the fallen sunglasses carefully. Holding them up, she paused. No cracks... that was good. Slipping the sunglasses into the small paper bag she held (which contained a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a tub of leave-in conditioner, and some cute hair clips that the stylist suggested to her,) Himari gleamed a closer look at her friend.

He had a peaceful expression on his face, his chest lightly rising and falling. She could have sworn she heard him snoring. She reached out her hand hesitantly, gently pushing it against his face.

"Angel?"

No response. Himari paused a moment before gently nudging him with her hand. Her fingers pinched his cheeks, tugging on his face in two different directions.

"Angie, Angie wake UP."

...

Oh. Oops.

Peeking over the bench, she peered down at the now knocked-over Angel. Perhaps, in her attempts to wake him up... she might have knocked him off the bench. He groaned in pain, cracking a dissatisfied eye open.

"... Sorry."

"..."

Sitting up, Angel yawned, rubbing his hand through his long white hair. His back ached, but, he didn't quite have it in him to be angry with Himari. (At least, she didn't immediately resort to punching him, this time, he thought.)

"Your hair looks nice. How was the stylist?"

Himari climbed off the bench, walking around. She bent down slightly, holding her hand out to Angel. He glanced at it for a second before grabbing onto it. Pulling him up off the ground, she rubbed her head in embarrassment.

"She was okay. Very nice, very patient. Not super judgmental. She even..."

Holding up the bag, she shrugged sheepishly. She knew next to nothing about proper hair care... so having suggestions were a bit of a life saver.

"That's good."

Yawning again, he rubbed the back of his neck. Stretching, he glanced at his watch. 2am. It wasn't a terrible time, but, it was still... rather late.

"Why don't we stop by a gas station on the way back? We can get something to eat... and I can get a coffee."

"Coffee? At this time of night? Really?"

Giving Himari a side eye, Angel scoffed. Crossing his arms, he shook his head disappointedly. Food... Himari couldn't disagree, however... coffee? At this time of the night? How was that a good idea? It felt more like a disaster waiting to happen.

"People don't like me when I'm not caffeinated... You wouldn't understand, Hermit Himmie."

"I thought people don't like you by default."

Perhaps that was... a little rude. But, Hermit Himmie? He totally had some pushback coming. Reaching over, his fingers lightly tapped against Himari's under eyes, before full on grasping her face. Her shriek was muffled as his hands clasped it tightly. His blue eyes, striking as ever, gleamed with something similar to disapproval.

"People don't like my dad, by default. Which is valid! I don't like him either. Unfortunately-" "You're his splitting image?"

She knew what he was going to say. Not like he was predictable, in reality, that was far, far from the truth. No man Himari's ever met would be less predictable than Angel Satoru.

The boy who ran away from home when he was young and made a life through the blood and scars on his own two hands, the son of the world's strongest and most famous sorcerer. A boy who, in theory, could have had the entire world at his fingertips, but...

"You know me so well."

His smiles never quite reached his eyes.

...

His arm linked with her own as they walked down the softly lit streets. The buzzing of the night filled the air. Himari noticed the birds as they walked past. The birds... they always seemed like they were watching them.

"Are those birds following us?"

Himari couldn't help but point it out. Her fingers pointed at a small, purple-looking bird, perched up on the sidewalk just a bit away from where they stood.

Angel glanced over his shoulder, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the crow. Crows... his eyes narrowed. He held out a finger for a moment before leaning into Himari.

"Wait here."

She blinked, her fingers tugging on her sweater nervously. Looking around, she noticed he had... disappeared?

Basic invisibility... Himari knew Angel didn't inherit anything impressive from his lineage, but she knew he had basic invisibility abilities. It was always a bit... strange, though. One moment, he was there. The next? He was gone.

She didn't have any clue where he could have gone... until he reappeared, slightly down the street, further from her. His hands clasped around the odd purple bird, his white hair blowing in the wind. The bird screeched in panic, struggling in his hands to no avail.

Himari ran over, down the street to where Angel was standing.

"Gotcha, bitch!"

Angel's hands grasped again even tighter, blood dripping down his hands. The bird cried out in panic, trying desperately to get out of his hold. Himari reached out, her hands gently rolling against the head of the bird.

"It... looks like a dove. A purple dove?"

"But look-" Angel adjusted his grip, extending the wing of the bird gently. The tips of the bird's wings were a light blue color... it reminded Himari of a gemstone of some kind. "- Isn't that strange? Oh, and on its back..."

His fingers shifted around, as if he was used to this. Himari wasn't sure what to say, about the odd but gentle preciseness he handled the bird with. Leaning closer, she noticed the odd, flower-like pattern on its back, that same color as the faded tips on its wings. It reminded her of stained glass murals.

"Huh..."

"It reminds me of something... but I'm not... totally sure what it is."

His fingers twitched slightly, the pain of his torn skin finally seeming to sink in. Angel grimaced slightly, trying to hold onto the bird. However, as it nipped at his hand again, he hissed.

"....!"

The bird flew away.

...

"Your hands..."

Himari grabbed Angel's hands delicately as she surveyed the damage. Realizing it wasn't all too extensive, she let out a deep sigh. He wasn't bleeding too badly, and the scratches didn't seem too, too terrible, but still...

"... I probably shouldn't have grabbed it like that, huh? I mean, I didn't think it was gonna fucking bite me, but..."

She shook her head as he laughed sheepishly. He was so careless sometimes... it was only a weird-looking dove, but... she was worried about him. One day, he'd take something on out of impulse... something he wouldn't be able to handle.

Her fingers reached out, the tips of her nails just narrowly missing the edge of her hat. Watching as her mother's hat was swept away by the wind, the girl huffed as she bunched up the bottom of her white summer dress. Her sandals slammed against the concrete as she chased after the rouge hat.

She swore if the wind were a sentient person, it surely would have been playing with her.

Her fiery red hair blew in the wind as she ran, as fast as her little legs would take her. It was something she was well-known for, her soft, bright red hair. Not many people in Rondo City had that same, striking red hair, after all.

People watched as she chased after the runaway sunhat. Did it never occur to them that... maybe... someone could help her catch it? Twilight never understood how people's minds worked.

Her fingers grasped at air, just narrowly missing it every time. At this point, it had to be comedic timing. It just had to be.

...

The sidewalks were always a little uneven around the arcade strip of the boardwalk. The elevation shift was hard to notice at an eye level, yet, the shift was drastic enough that people walking routinely would trip when walking over it. Twilight had tripped over it a couple of times herself. (She swore, the shift always seemed to move. It was like magic.)

"Shit..!"

The shift caught her off guard, sending the already stumbling girl crashing into the concrete. The concrete shredded her wrists and her knees, a spotty red color staining the sidewalk. Pain shot through her nerves like a hot knife through butter.

"Ow...."

Her body trembled slightly as she lifted up her arm, a crimson liquid dripping down it. Her eyes welled up from the sharp pain that accompanied every injured limb. She knew she couldn't lie on the floor forever, even if it hurt.

Her hands trembled as she forced herself off the floor. Her lips pursed as she gleamed the bottom of her favorite, white summer dress. Crimson blood stained the white satin fabric and the overlaid white lace. She lifted up her trim, taking a glance at her knees. The skin there was shredded, blood dripping down towards her sandals. Oh. That fall fucked her up badly.

Her eyes scanned the area, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. Her fist gripping into a tight ball, trying to simply bear through it. The pain. Her mother's hat, where was it?

Her eyes swept across the boardwalk, and then, a heaviness sank deep, deep inside her chest. It was gone. It was gone. The tears welled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. No, not fall. Pour.

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"My sweetheart, my darling angel!"

Her mother's hands held onto the young girl's cheeks, a gentle kiss placed on her forehead. The young girl laughed, reaching outward to the older woman. Out... to mother.

"Oh, we're going to the beach today! Mama knows you love the beach!"

The beach... Twilight has always loved the sea, even from a very young age. She loved to feel the sand beneath her feet as she ran towards the water. That crystal, blue water, with that captivating, white sea foam.

"Can we have a picnic by the sea, mama?"

"Of course, my angel! But... before you can go, we need to buy you a sunhat!"

Her head tilted to the side in confusion, her red curls swaying with vigor. Wave blue eyes stared at her mother, reflecting her mischievous smile. Her fingers curled, pointing towards the woven beige hat on her head, decorated with a simple, but gorgeous yellow ribbon.

Her black hair curled slightly as her mother leaned in, her hands gently clasping around her own face.

"A sunhat, just like the one mommy is wearing. We can get you one just like this one! Oh, but we can get it with a blue ribbon."

Twilight's hands, small but mighty, reached out to the top of her head. She patted the top of her head, feeling the strands of her hair in her little fingers. She reached out with one of her hands, grazing over the woven fabric of the sunhat her mother wore. It didn't feel like her hair.

"Sunhat..."

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

"-ss? Miss?"

A foreign voice, thick and vicious as honey, reached Twilight's ears as she blinked back tears. Using her good arm as she feebly tried to dry her tears, she squinted through blurry vision.

A head of long, straggly beach blonde hair broke through the tear-blurred vision, a large black hat perched on the back of his head. Dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, slightly obscuring the grey eyes that sat hidden behind them.

Twilight grimaced, pain rising in her knees. Trembling slightly, she tilted her head to the side, her red hair swaying with the movement. Her eyes scanned the mysterious man up and down, taking note of his appearance.

What kind of person wears a long double-breasted black coat in the 90-degree summer heat? How he hasn't passed out from heat exhaustion was a mystery to her... but, she supposed she didn't look all that hot herself. Maybe she shouldn't be judging....

"I do apologize for disturbing you, but..."

His arm shifted slightly, drawing attention to his hand. In his hand, he held something... a woven straw hat, with a yellow ribbon around the base.

"Is this yours? I couldn't help but notice your... rather unfortunate fall chasing after it."

"Oh, uhm... yes, that is mine."

A polite smile formed on the man's face as he nodded gently. Extending his arm gently, he held it out towards her. Reaching out for it, Twilight hissed in pain.

"Ow... ow..."

Terrible time to forget which arm you injured. Pain shot through her nerves, a crippling feeling rising in her body like boiling water. Her legs trembled, her own weight suddenly feeling too much for her to shoulder. She swayed slightly from side to side, the ground feeling unstable beneath her feet. Her eyes drooped slightly, her head feeling light. She couldn't even brace herself for another fall.

...

Her hair curled against the gentleman's shoulder as he cradled her in his arm. Still clasping her hat in his hand, the man's brows furrowed. His grey eyes flickered between the blood on her knees and her sudden faintness.

"Are you okay, miss? You're bleeding pretty badly too... does seeing blood make you lightheaded?"

His fingers gently pressed against her forehead, her lips pursing in embarrassment. She raised her good arm, weakly patting him against the chest. Her voice was so soft, it was almost like a whisper.

"... very."

Her voice quivered. It was a little embarrassing for her to admit, but... the man chuckled softly as he shifted his hold, gently leading her to a nearby bench. Limping along, Twilight closed her eyes. The world truly must have had it out for her.

"Wait here. I'll go ask the arcade staff if they have a first aid kit."

Twilight's fingers trembled slightly as she shifted around on the bench. Her eyes fell on the straw hat that the man had placed by her side. Her mother's favorite sunhat. Picking it up, she observed the hat with careful scrutiny. Her fingers gently ran against the woven straw and the yellow ribboning, checking it for any tears or soot. Nothing. It's like he caught it before nature could take hold of it any further.

The sound of footsteps clicking against the ground rose to her ears, her eyes glancing up in response. The man carried a small, white first aid kit in his hands, a small smile on his face.

"May I?"

Gesturing to her knees with his arm, the man waited patiently. Nodding gently, Twilight watched as the man bent down onto one knee, popping open the first aid kit with his hands. Leaning forward, she peeked down at the man.

"I'm sorry... I'm sure this isn't how you thought your day was gonna go, huh?"

"Haha... no, not quite. Life is full of surprises, isn't it? My name is Emmerence. What's yours?"

"My name is Twilight. It's nice to meet you."

His fingers lingered along the back of her knee, gently wiping away the blood with a cotton swab. Humming, Emmerence cleaned the wound with an odd attentiveness. Something warm rose in her chest.

"Do you uhm... do you like walking on the boardwalk?"

"...? Ahh, it's a beautiful place, but the sun here is... a little too strong for my liking."

Shaking his head as he responded, his chest rising and falling slowly as he gripped her thigh tightly. Shifting the gauze and the wrap between his fingers, Emmerence leaned closer. He felt so... warm.

"Too strong? The sun?"

"I'm rather sensitive to the light, you see... on days when it's too bright, I get really lightheaded."

Reaching up with one of his hands, he pushed the rim of his hat with a cheeky smile. There was an odd gentleness in his voice. A small oh formed on Twilight's face, before she nodded gently. Lightheaded and sensitive in the light...

Her knees still ached, but his gentle and soft touches soothed the pain. Shifting off his knee, he stood up straight, dusting the boardwalk dust off his pants. Then, he slid onto the bench next to Twilight's side.

"Your arm?"

"Oh, uhm... here."

Holding her arm out shakily, Twilight managed a weak smile. The positioning was a little awkward; she wouldn't lie. Stretching her arm out like that made the already sore muscles even more sore than before.

...

She didn't realize how nice Emmerence smelled until now.

Well, not in a creepy way, of course. Snuggled between Emmerence and the beechwood bench, she couldn't help it. The boardwalk always smells like sea salt and firewood smoke... especially at night, when all the open-fire restaurants are in full swing. But... there's something about him that smells so... sweet?

Her hair curled against her neck as she leaned into his shoulder, her eyes fluttering as he continued to dress her wounds. He smelled like... was that cinnamon? It smelled like cinnamon.

Like one of those fall air fresheners you hang on your car that makes your car smell like a warm cinnamon pie fresh out of the oven... He smelled magnetic. Again... not in a weird or creepy way.

"Are you okay, Twilight?"

"You smell really nice. Do you use a cologne or perfume?"

Pausing a moment, Emmerence lowered Twilight's arm gently. Placing his hand on his chest lightly, his brows furrowed before he shook his head. Twilight's eyes widen slightly in response. He doesn't use anything?

"No... I just... smell like this? I suppose."

"Really? You smell really nice, I just thought..."

Rubbing her chin in deep thought, her lips pursed in confusion. Maybe she really was mistaken...

His fingers brushed against her forehead gently, Emmerence leaning in with a smile. Her face flushed slightly as she averted her gaze. They were strangers, and yet... she felt so comfortable around him. It was... odd, she thought.

"You smell rather nice yourself, Twilight. Do you wear something?"

"Huh? Uhm..."

Her fingers twitched slightly as she averted her gaze, her fingers scrunching around the white fabric of her dress. She did wear something, yes, but... she never imagined someone would have noticed it. She felt unreasonably embarrassed by the thought.

"I do. It's apple and champagne scented perfume."

"Apples and champagne... It smells delightful. I'll have to look into buying one for myself."

Twilight could feel her face becoming even redder. It wasn't embarrassing, but, she wasn't even sure what it was. She'd attempt to run away, but she was sure she'd trip and fall and skin her knees even worse. She felt she had already made enough of a fool of herself for one day.

"Hey... you're not doing much tonight, are you?" Emmerence's voice snapped her back from her seemingly never-ending embarrassment... He spoke with such grace and elegance. She had totally forgotten what it was he even asked her. "No, I don't think so...??????"

"Then... would you like to stop by a diner and get some dinner with me?" Her face flushed. He was quite forward and rather charming, too. "I'll carry you~ I'm worried you might fall, and bust your knees up again."

"Okay, that was unnecessary... but dinner...? I think I'd like that. Uhm, if you're. willing to take me. That is. Uhm. You're paying, though."

"... if that's what you wish, my dearest partner."

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They say that the boardwalk has the power to help people find true love. The wind has the power to blow you right into the arms of your forever one.

They say wishes travel along the wind, and it's those wishes that help the wind bring people together with their forever one. Wishes from the lonely, the longing, wishes from those long gone.

The sea carries hopes, like bottled messages drifting in the stars. It may be staggered for a while, but eventually, it'll wash up, right where it needs to be seen.

A wish from a mother who only wishes for someone to care for her daughter the way she deserves to be treated. Even if a true "forever" is still several years away.

Even we believe that... even reformed criminals can be allowed a happy ending. And it carries that along the wind, sounding off like wind chimes, with a slight scent of apples and cinnamon to boot.

A set of large twin dogs, one white and one black, rested on either side of the young woman. Near identical collars adorned the dog's necks, dual silver nametags shining through the soft light coming in through the windowsill.

She could see herself in the reflection of the phone screen, unkempt thick black hair flying into random directions, tired dusk blue eyes, and silver earrings shining in the sunlight. She seemed deathly pale in her own reflection.

...

How long had it been since she had left the house?

...

Her fingers ran gently against the phone screen, a frown forming on her weary face. She lifted up her fingers, gently patting the bags beneath her eyes. The tips of her fingers tugged on the underbags, a grimace forming on her face.

Her teeth bite down into the plastic nib of her glittery pen, her hair flaring up against her neck. Lifting up her fingers from her face, she ran the tips of her fingers along the edge of her hair. It wasn't tangled, thankfully, but it wasn't quite that soft... and her hair desperately needed a haircut.

She was quiet for a moment, lowering her hand hesitantly. She really hadn't seen herself in such a long time, she almost felt a little self-conscious about it. She didn't even know what day it was, much less what month, even what year it was.

It's not like they kept her hidden away from the world, perse. They paid for her apartment, paid for her food, all her clothes and necessities. Aside from the private training and private school lessons, she rarely got out of the house.

The idea of seeing other people, even those close to her... it made her chest feel tight, aching in an uncomfortable manner.

Whining softly, the black dog leaned in, burying its head against her arm. Its soft fur rubbed against her skin, causing her attention to divert slightly. Leaning over gently, she let out a small sigh. Reaching down, she ruffled the dog's fur-loving with a small smile.

"... it feels like you and Muffet are my only friends some days."

Her eyes shifted lightly, her ears twitching as her phone began to lightly buzz. The phone screen lit up, the words "Brother" were displayed at the top of the phone screen. Hesitantly, she leaned over, fumbling with the answer button.

"... huh. You actually answered the phone."

"... hi brother."

Her voice felt so hoarse, that it almost hurt to speak. Maybe this is what happens when you use it so rarely. Nothing to really talk to either way... aside from the dogs and her own cursed technique puppets.

Your cursed technique is something the jujutsu world has never seen before. The Phantom Parade carries an incredible amount of innate humane intelligence. However, that intelligence can end up being... more of a curse than a blessing.

... They weren't the most fun to talk to, though. Especially, "The Wicked Curse User" as everyone called him. (She didn't even remember where he came from. Angel hated that particular Phantom Parade, though.)

"I was wondering if you wanted to get some ramen. I'm in Tokyo right now."

Ramen... she paused a moment, trying to remember the last time she had eaten genuine ramen. (The last time she actually left the apartment? If she thought about it too hard, she'd just make herself sad.) She pondered a while, her brows furrowing a little the more she thought about it.

"I would... like that. I think."

"You think? Here, I'll text you the address, and you can decide after looking into it."

Frowning a bit, she huffed. The truth was... she didn't really know what she wanted anymore. She didn't want to be alone... but the prospect of people terrified her more than the fear of dying alone ever would.

A small message dinged on her phone as a message notification popped onto her home screen. Leaning over, she looked over the restaurant's menu and webpage. The words "booth seating" caught her attention more than anything on the menu.

"Well, how about it? Do you want to get some lunch together, just the two of us?"

"... yes please."

"Judging from the map, I'm... roughly fifteen to twenty minutes from your apartment. I'll see you soon, Himari."

...

click!

The call hung up with nothing short of a weak "okay".

Lowering her phone, her brows furrowed slightly. Going out to eat... they always said that even the slightest bit of progress was still process being made. Her eyes fell on the notebook, sitting quietly in her lap. Picking it up hesitantly, she looked around.

He was going to be there in fifteen or so minutes... she should take a quick shower and get dressed into something nicer than her pajamas.

She struggled to get to her feet, her legs numb from sitting on the floor for hours on end. Only through the effort of her two dogs did she manage to stand on her own two feet. Reaching down, she dusted her knees, before giving each of her good boys a gentle rub on the heads with a weak smile.

"Thank you."

...

The water felt nice against her skin, water dripping down from her hair. She felt a little bit like a wet cat. Maybe she was a sad, wet cat, deep down inside. (Would that make her brother and absentee father angry cats?)

Wrapping her hair up in a towel, she fumbled through her closet, looking for a pair of casual clothes. Something nice to wear, but comfortable and casual... and preferably, not her school uniform.

Her eyes fell on a plain colored cream shirt, blue pants, and a beige coat. The coat looked rather long, (she had a hunch the coat wasn't even hers to begin with.) but the cream shirt and blue pants looked nice together.

Hesitating, her eyes fell on her hands. Ugly and scarred... did she have any gloves she could wear? She was quiet for a moment, snatching some cream-colored gloves from the edge of her dresser. Hopefully, they don't get ruined... she doesn't have any other ones.

Tugging the towel off her head, she fixed her shirt before looking at herself in the mirror. Her brows furrowed as she looked herself up and down. Her hair was so messy... she should do something about it.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes shifting. Making her way to the door quietly, she fumbled with the door locks, before opening the door.

"Hi, Himari."

Yelping slightly as Muffet jumped past her, the white dog leaped into her brother's arms, licking his cheeks with a joyful bark. Holding onto the dog, he chuckled, ruffling the fur with a smile.

"Muffet... Muffet get off him..."

"It's fine. I think the divine dogs would do the same if they were here."

They'd probably knock her over. The Divine Dogs were bigger than her... probably heavier too. She sweated at the thought, laughing nervously. Clapping her hands together and whistling, she gently coaxed the white dog down.

"I need to go put some socks and some shoes on..."

"Take your time."

Fumbling slightly, she put on her shoes. Slip-on shoes made everything so easy. She was so glad she got Angel to buy her some that week he went out of town.

Her eyes fell on the plain black notebook, and her mind wandered to that assignment... rushing over, she gently picked up the notebook and pen, holding it close to her chest. Then, looking around, she snatched her keys off the desk.

"Uhm... I'm ready now."

“What’s with the notebook?”

Tapping her gloved hands against the cover silently, her eyes shifted to the side. In a near embarrassed motion, she pulled the notebook close to her chest.

For weeks of solitude, this notebook had been her saving grace. Despite her loneliness and her troubles, she felt comforted within its paper presence. Writing even the simplest things in it made her feel a little more alive.

Even if she barely felt alive to start with.

“It’s my homework notebook turned diary…”

Twirling her finger through her hair, she watched as her brother locked the apartment door, she glanced away. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but…

“Teacher told me that the best way to strengthen my Phantom Parades was to establish bonds with them… the more I talk to them, the easier I’ll understand them, and the better I can control their powers.”

Laughing nervously as she followed him down the stairs, she shook her head. Sometimes she felt so pathetic, especially as she struggled with very simple, basic things, such as talking. Maybe their dad had the right idea in abandoning them.

“Is it hard to talk to them?”

“A little bit… I mean, they’re just like people and it makes the assignment so hard and I- I just feel like crying.”

“Is talking to me hard?”

Pausing a moment, Himari’s eyes shifted nervously. Glancing up at her brother as they crossed the street, she bit her lip. She could feel other eyes on her (did she look that terrible?), staring at her.

Talking. She was never good with talking. She struggled to understand social cues, she felt like an outcast everywhere she went. A girl who’s too afraid to talk to people, to the point she becomes a hermit and stays inside? What a mockery.

“Do you find it hard to talk to me? Like how we’re talking now?”

Pausing another moment, she looked up at him. She never had to think too hard on what to say when around him, now that she thought about it… he had a stern face and an even more stern personality but…

“No, actually… I’m kind of comfortable around you.”

“Are you uncomfortable around the Phantom Parade?”

Her brows furrowed as she processed his question. Uncomfortable around her own cursed technique… she never quite thought about it like that. A mental roadblock?

“I… don’t know, actually.”

Her fingers twitched slightly as she pulled back her notebook slightly, her eyes focusing on the plain black cover for a moment, before looking back at her brother.

Her eyes glanced around, the sign of the ramen shop in the distance. It really wasn’t all that far, she thought. Close to her apartment, with private seating and cheap? If it was good… maybe she’d try to leave the apartment a little more.

“Maybe you’re focusing on it too hard. Their humane likeness. You’re psyching yourself out before you can really get started. Table for two please.”

Watching carefully as they enter the shop, Himari’s eyes fell on the menu. If she just distracts herself with the menu (are they staring?), see what delicious ramen bowls they have (they’re definitely staring at her.) and what sides she can try (she’s such a freak.), maybe things will be okay. (I regret it. I’m scared. I want to go home.)

Putting the menu down, she followed the waiter as they led her and her brother to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant. It was pretty far from the entrance, and not a lot of people around… Himari let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

“You’re always psyching yourself out… aren’t you? Thinking too hard on it, scaring yourself beyond the limits.”

“… you were always very smart.”

Placing down the notebook hesitantly, she shook her head with a frown. Her voice shook a little bit, quivering with a slight whisper.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he hung his head. Then, sliding the menu across the table, a weak smile formed on his face.

“… let’s not think about schoolwork right now. We came here to eat some ramen, didn’t we?”

Sniffling, she furiously wiped her face with her sleeves, nodding hesitantly. She hated crying. It was hard to stop it once the flood gates opened, and it hardly ever felt good.

Things were always going to be difficult but…

“… do they have a ramen with a soft boiled egg… and the corn and green onions in the broth… with the crunchy chicken on the side…”

“… just like how I used to make it?”

“Yeah… that was always my favorite.”

Blood dripped from the edge of the bottle, his crimson blood mixing with the fine, crimson wine. His chest squeezed, his chest ached, and his chest burned. Mangled white hair, stained red with wine, a slumped body on the ground. Unmoving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Why wasn’t he moving?

                                                            ---

Chloe paused a moment, her fingers gently clasped around the small, golden entrance ticket. The Emerald Gemstone Casino, the world’s largest gambling casino venue, home of the elite and the powerful, a symbol of wealth and power. The golden edges of the casino glowed like heaven in starlight, Chloe thought. What a beautiful White Night it was, the perfect night for the Emerald Casino’s “Emerald Masquerade Ball”.

Tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear, she couldn’t help but marvel at it. The golden fountains, the glistening porcelain tiles, the lovely greenery… everything about this casino screamed grace and elegance.

Gently, she tucked her hand behind her head, a soft hand laying against the golden ornaments in her hair. Pinned to a teal headband, completed with a brown bow and white pearl beads, it was something simple yet, one of a kind. Hand sewn by Chloe herself.

Her gloved hand gently smoothed down the creases in her vest, clearing her throat nervously as she nodded. Rehearsing a greeting in her head, drafting potential responses to potential questions, preparing for the ultimate social death… awkwardness. Oh, how she loathed social contact. She spoke too much, too quickly, always having too much to say but never enough substance to say it with. In short, she was a yapper and she knew it.

A young, attractive blonde man stood by the side of the reception desk, with the most mesmerizing set of purple eyes. A light blush on his cheeks, the most gorgeous set of eyelashes (Chloe wondered what mascara he wore.), and a smile that would melt the ice in even the coldest of hearts.

“Welcome to the Emerald Casino, dear guests. I’ll be your guide for tonight’s masquerade, may I see your tickets?”

The guest in front of Chloe, a young woman in a rather gorgeous pink sweater dress and the loveliest, caramel-colored hair, dug through a small, heart-shaped bag resting on her hip. Chloe watched as she pulled out a small, golden ticket from the bag with an infectious grace. White gloves passed off the ticket to the blonde-haired desk attendant, who responded with a light chuckle. 

Chloe paused, her eyes falling on the beautiful woman’s long hair. A caramel blonde at the top, fading into a rich coffee brown at the bottom, pulled back into an utterly gorgeous French braid. (It was so long, she wondered how long it took the woman to grow it. Was it dyed? Extensions? She was so, so curious.) And the love-struck pink of the woman’s dress? Paired with the comforting material of a knitted sweater, combining fashion with comfort? As an aspiring fashion designer, she respected the creative force behind it. And the eggshell fluffy boa and those pink stockings? Chloe debated asking the lady about the designer, but she didn’t want to come off as a creep.

Shifting on her heels, she peeked over the woman’s shoulder. She was the next in line… and glancing at the reflection in her phone, she was the last to arrive. She wasn’t late… but everyone else invited seemed to have come rather early. (And she thought being fifteen minutes before the start of the party was excessively early.)

Nervous, Chloe took a step up, rubbing the golden ticket between her fingers. She was far, far from home. A little countryside girl in the grand city. She always thought the protagonists from the south, freaking out over the big city was always a little cheesy if she was being honest… but no. The big city was mortifying. She understood it now.

“… you must be Chloe Medena. You’re the last person left on my waiting list.” Holding out his hand, the blonde man smiled warmly. A little too warmly, Chloe felt like a witch melting from its warmth.

“Uhm… y-yeah! That’s me! Ehehe…”

God, you’re so awkward, Chloe. Who laughs like that? Someone who’s lying, that’s who! She wanted to hit herself for being so dumb, but that might only make her look more suspicious for no apparent reason.

“… is this your first time to our fine establishment?”

Raising a brow slightly, the man chuckled, covering his mouth with his white glove. Chloe was sure she looked positively baffled. A rich man’s laughingstock, surely. She couldn’t even manage to say anything, not with a single yapping bone in her body, only manage a small nod. Like an utter fool. Ough, I’m so embarrassed. They’re gonna submit me onto America’s funniest home videos, I’m sure of it!! nooOOOO-

“I see I see…” Gently, he took the tickets from her hands with a soft smile. “I’ve been there too, once a really long time ago. The atmosphere is a step above, and you wonder if you really belong here.”

Placing the ticket down, the blonde man held out his hand towards Chloe, his soft smile feeling like sunlight after a cold night of rain. Something about it felt so soft and homely… she reached out hesitantly, her gloved hand hovering just above the man’s gloved hand. Taking initiative, he reached up, gently clasping his fingers around hers. Then, lifting it to his lips, he planted a firm but light kiss against the back of her hand with a chuckle.

“But you were invited here tonight for a reason, darling. So, I implore you to have a little more faith in yourself.”

She was going to pass out. Okay, no she wasn’t. She was just being dramatic. (I think?) Was her face getting flushed? She must have looked as embarrassed as she felt, surely. The casino certainly has a smooth talker on their hands… haha…

“The ballroom is down the hallway there, through the third door on your left and a right turn around the hallway. Did you catch all that?”

Nodding eagerly, Chloe responded in silence. A little too eager to escape her embarrassment, she stumbled off towards the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groaned silently.

“God… why do you have to be so awkward, Chloe? Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

Shaking her head furiously, she attempted to pound the embarrassment out of her head. Of course, not literally. Her therapist always told her that hitting herself wouldn’t solve her problems, and that she didn’t need to “punish” herself to “make up” for her mistakes. These were only words, however. It was up to Chloe to practice it, and to bring meaning of her own. She balled her hands up in frustration, trembling as she resisted the urge to hit herself. A devilish temptation and an easy solution to her self-made problems, she thought. But it wouldn’t really fix anything… would it?

Taking deep breaths, Chloe’s trembling fists slowly unclenched, and then, fully relaxed, laying flat against the deep brown fabric of her dress pants. A weak sigh escaped her lips, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She was such an embarrassment. She should just go home.

"Grandpa..."

A loving last gift from a man who loved her so dearly. She wasn’t his granddaughter by blood, but she was his granddaughter by choice. He loved her like she was always one of his own, and she loved him equally in turn. He always supported her dream of being a fashion designer, even when she didn’t believe it would ever be viable. She always felt like she was letting him down.

Even now.

“… are you lost?”

A deep voice snapped Chloe out of a memory ditch, a weak sniffle escaping her throat. She felt pathetic. Standing up straight, she lifted her hand, messily trying to wipe the tears from her eyes before they could have the chance to further embarrass her and fall.

“Are you crying?”

Nevermind then. Kill me now, she thought. Her vision blurred slightly, and her eyes ached ever so gently, however, she couldn’t help but hone in on the man’s striking features. His pale skin, adorned with a soft pink blush, that deep, curly purple hair, and those striking, cold red and yellow eyes… sniffling again, Chloe tried to speak, to respond to the odd man. However, her words choked in her throat, a gargled "noOo..." coming out instead. She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling, the hiccups from emerging, the sobs from starting… she felt so pathetic.

The man sighed, a cold "tsk" emerging from the depths of his throat. (It reminded her of her father when she announced for passion for fashion.) Then, reaching into the breast pocket of his dust green suit, he pulled out a small dust purple handkerchief, placing one hand on his knee as he bent down.

“There’s no need to be crying over something so trivial. Everyone gets a little lost sometimes. There’s no embarrassment in it.”

Gently patting the tears dry with his handkerchief, the man shook his head solemnly. Sniffling, Chloe’s fingers gripped onto the edges of her vest, crinkling the once pristine fabric.

“Okay…”

“There. No more tears. You’re going to be okay.”

She felt like a little kid again. She felt so useless. But… the guidance felt nice. A little bit. His hand gently brushed up against her brown bangs, pushing them to the side softly as he wiped the remainder of her tears. Then, reaching for his coat, he reached his hand inside, rummaging around. Why was he doing…?

“… huh?”

Cocking his head to the side slightly, he grumbled as he rummaged around on the inside of the coat, before pulling out a small, travel-sized blush pallet from… nowhere. Did he have an inner coat pocket…?

“Here. Your tears ruined your makeup. You’d at least be able to do minor touch-ups with this.”

“… oh!”

Gasping, she carefully took the travel blush from the man’s hands, popping it open and glancing into the small mirror. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy… not too noticeable, she thought. Her mascara was okay (thank god for waterproof mascara, she believed), but her blush… tear streaks were not a style she wanted to rock.

Gently pulling out of the travel blush applicators, Chloe’s brows furrowed. Finding the closest match would be hard… but she could do it. Grandpa’s love and this stranger’s kindness couldn’t just be ignored… 

“Wait!” Looking up suddenly, Chloe’s eyes fell on the man in front of her, her brows furrowing in frustration at her own rudeness. She was so caught up in her own nonsense that she completely neglected the first rule of etiquette.

“I’m so sorry!! I never asked what your name was, kind sir!”

“… Hyde Williams. You can just call me Hyde though.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Hyde! My name is Chloe.”

Holding out a shaky hand, Chloe attempted a friendly smile. Keyword… attempted. If he rejected her… she might unravel and fall apart all over again. Nervously watching as the man shook his head, her hand trembled even more. Please please please please, please. She never craved the validation of a random stranger so badly before.

Reaching his hand out, he gave Chloe a quick but firm handshake. His hand felt rather warm in her gloved hand… she wondered if the entirety of him was just as warm.

“Your makeup, Chloe.”

“… oh yeah! Let me get on that… heheh… heh…”

You have got to stop laughing like that, Chloe.

…

Gently tapping her fingers against her cheek, she observed her face in the small mirror of the pocket palette. You could barely tell she had been crying. Closing the palette gently, Chloe looked up at the purple-haired man, who found himself a comfortable spot against the wall to lean on as the disheveled girl picked up the broken pieces of her dignity. Hyde Williams… it was a name unfamiliar to her, as was everything else in the casino.

He seemed kind enough, though. She wondered if it would be awkward to ask a man who she had met under… rather mortifying terms if he could be her friend. Despite his younger-looking appearance, he carried himself with the wiseness of a saint… or a monk.

"... thank you for your help, Mister Hyde."

"You can just call me Hyde."

Taking a step forward, she held out her hands with a smile, the small pocket palette resting in the center of her palms. Sighing gently, the man took the palette from her expectant hands. Cocking his head to the side as he opened his coat pocket, slipping the pocket palette inside his pocket. Then, holding out his hand to Chloe, he nodded. Hesitantly, she stepped closer, wrapping her arm in his own. 

"I'll take you to the main ballroom. The masquerade ball is going to start soon, you shouldn't miss the opening to the dance."

...

A man stood on the large, grandiose stage, laced with gemstones and gold. Dressed in a soft red suit top and pristine pearl pants, the man chatted with the emerald-suited man from the entrance. All smiles. Chloe's neck craned slightly as she looked around. The room was huge, much bigger than she ever imagined. 

Her hands fidgeted slightly as she looked around the room. There was a bar on one side, a tall pink-haired man and a shorter, blonde-haired girl chatted on the other side of the bar, the girl holding a bar glass with a confused expression. If Chloe had to garner a guess, bartender and... maybe a bartender in training. Her eyes shifted, to two giant casino tables with two distinctive people standing by their sides, thick black hair curling against their shoulders. Dealers... Chloe found it all so interesting.

Being such a regal and classy place... it felt surreal to her, something only possible in your dreams. Reaching out slightly, her fingers entwined along the satin green fabric sleeves of Hyde's suit. His red eyes fell on the young girl standing beside him. Sighing slightly, his eyes shifted to the side.

"Ahem…” The man on the stage cleared his throat and like a king in the castle court, everyone turned their head to face the tall, elegant red-suited man. “Thank you everyone for coming to the annual Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade night. Tonight is a special night for everyone here, is it not? Filled with regulars…”

During the pause, the blonde attendant waved to the people in the crowd, and Chloe couldn’t help but look at the people waving back. A fair-skinned, pink-haired woman in a short, love-colored dress… something about Hyde’s side glance gave her an odd feeling… animosity, but she wasn’t sure why. A blonde-haired woman with longer, choppy hair in the back and a lilac blue suit also waved back with a smile, elbowing a young, brown-haired man sitting beside her. A dusted blue-haired male sitting at the bar glanced up, nodding slightly as he raised a hand in salute. His yellow eyes were almost captivating to Chloe, something so unique and so… decisive and striking.

“Filled with new guests…”

This time, the man in the red suit clapped his hands gently, waving to additional folks in the crowd. A blonde-haired woman wearing a boa, wearing a fancy red dress waved hesitantly back. It looked like satin, Chloe believed. The caramel woman with the heart-shaped pocket bag also waved with hesitance. A scruffy-looking man, sitting next to the woman in the pink dress that her new companion seemingly showed for earlier raised a glass in… was it salute? The countryside was never this uptight about etiquette… it made her shudder.

“New staff working the masquerade… and lively they are.”

As if on cue, the girl at the bar counter waved towards the men on stage, the pink haired man belting out a hardly laugh in response. The girl seemed nice… Chloe enjoyed her energy. She should visit the bar later on tonight. (Maybe she could buy Mister Hyde a drink or snack as a thank you gift for helping her earlier?)

“This masquerade ball is made up of different, unique faces, all here tonight. It’s very exciting, the chance for once-in-a-lifetime memories to be made. Saae, would you mind doing the honors?” Chuckling, the man in the red placed his hands on the golden microphone, scooping it into black-gloved hands. Then, handing it off to his attendant, the blonde-haired man smiled. Tucking a piece of his blonde hair behind his ear, the man cleared his throat briefly before bringing the microphone to his lips.

“Welcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casino’s yearly event, the Emerald Masquerade, dear guests! This is your host for the evening, Frederick Kronos, and I am your co-host, Saae Avente.”

His voice sounded like what you’d imagine a thick but velvety honey would taste like. Rich and choked full of a sweet, distinctive flavor, the kind that coats your lips and leaves a deep impression on your mind for days to come. That thought was… actually extremely weird, she thought as she reflected on it. 

“Slots, drinks, games, and more… this golden hour is your opportunity, and we’re here to bring your wildest fantasies into a reality. But, the two of us could not do it alone.”

Watching as the emerald attendant, named Saae Avente, stepped off of the stage, Chloe couldn’t help but fully note Saae’s attire. The tall white sharp heels he strutted around the casino grounds in, with a degree of balance that made Chloe just the slightest bit jealous (for she was positive if she wore the same exact heels, she would fall and bruise much more than her already sullied pride.) The split paneling on his suit in general was something Chloe had never seen before, it intrigued her so dearly. (She wondered how it was achieved, such suits didn’t exist in the fashion world in its current era. Did he make them himself, tearing through the seams of different fabrics and stitching them into the current fashion he wore? She would have to ask him later. It was possibly the prettiest thing she had seen in a while.) But the thing that caught her eye the most was the peacock feather-themed trail, something hidden from behind the counter he had stood behind since she arrived. They floated behind him with an airy elegance, and Chloe almost wondered if they were really there. 

“If you’re looking to play games tonight-” Saae placed his free gloved hand lightly against the casino round tables, leaning over as he chuckled. “-then our two most trusted dealers will be here to make your wildest dreams come true. To my right is Lady Roxanne Tiye , our jack of diamonds and new dealer for the evening, and to my left is our betting round dealer for our masquerade events, Lee Wittlestein. Don’t be afraid to come pester them for a game, they won’t bite.”

As if it were on cue, the two dealers lifted up their heads, waving into the small crowd of onlookers. One of them, Roxanne (as Saae had introduced her as), was a bored looking lady, Chloe noted. With thick, long black hair and a visible yellow eye, Roxanne looked… she didn’t want to say displeased nor discontent, but she noticed that Roxanne didn’t seem as thrilled as some of the others. Chloe’s gaze shifted slightly to the figure standing to Saae’s left side. Standing tall and composed, they exuded an aura of calmness, as if this were just an average friday evening for them. Similar to Roxanne, Lee’s hair was long and black in color, worn in a high ponytail, a red eye poking out of beneath messy bangs. Chloe couldn’t gain a solid read of Lee’s gender, even with the aid of the black vest and frilled white and red shirt they wore. She would have to ask them about their pronouns later on. (Their style reminded Chloe of a vampire… or something a little more specific… the words “betting round” echoed in her head. Betting round… betting… nope. Whatever thought she had, she lost it. Oh well.)

“Uhh… we’re happy to be your dealers tonight?” A white hand reached over, tilting the outstretched microphone to the left. “We’re both delighted to make your acquaintances this evening, and hope to see you guys at one of our tables later in the evenings for a friendly game. Saae.” (... their voice only left Chloe more confused. I’ll just narrate with they/them in mind, I literally cannot tell.) Taking back the microphone with a snicker, he shifted slightly as he stood up tall. Then, making his way over to the bar, Saae hummed.

“And, if drinks are the thing you need-” Leaning over the bar counter briefly, he sat on the empty bar stool, wrapping an arm around the blue-haired man with striking yellow eyes. “-Well, some of our guests have already found their way to the bar, it seems~” Another velvety chuckle, and Chloe swore the blue-haired man waved his hand dismissively. (She also swore said man was smiling.)

“Our bartenders for the night are more than happy to mix you the perfect drinks. Isn’t that right, Elliott?” The tall pink-haired man, named Elliott, chuckled as he crossed his arms, puffing his chest with an enthusiastic nod. “You know we make the best drinks this side of town, Saae.” Saae chuckled softly, and then leaning over the microphone, he smiled. “Do you have any drink suggestions for our new patrons, CJ?”

Turning around, the blonde-haired girl gasped slightly, then, walking over, she leaned close to the microphone with a smile. She hadn’t even spoken, but her energy was contagious. “Well, I know Elliott makes a mean strawberry mojito drink, and he always slices the fresh strawberries to per-fection! If you want something iconic but tasty, that’s what I would go with!” Leaning into the mic, Elliott pitched in. “And, while you’re here, why not pick up one of CJ’s iconic amaretto tiramisu cakes to eat with your drink? Soft, fluffy and a delicious snack to enjoy through the night.” “Hey… well, I can make a mean drink and a mean dessert myself, I suppose.” “Of course you can, your menu items are my favorites.”

They had such good energy together… the banter was cute and endearing, and the food sounded absolutely delightful.

“You’ve heard it firsthand, my dear guests. So, make sure to visit our two bartenders later on for a sweet drink… or a sweet treat.” Spinning in the chair, he jumped onto his feet, landing with such precision that she couldn’t help but believe he practiced such a stunt. (If it were her, her ankles would have certainly been a goner.)

“So, everyone…” He took a slow walk around the room, placing a hand on the pink-haired woman’s shoulder, earning a giggle from her. “Welcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casino.” His fingers lightly ran along the shoulders of the brown haired woman timidly sipping on a lime margarita, his fingers trailing along the underside of the blue haired man’s wing shaped earrings, a small fist bump with the young bartender (Was her name CJ?) breaking the oddly intimate(? Chloe wasn’t sure if that was the right word for that.) sensation. “Slots, drinks, games…”

He ran his hands around the casino tables, lightly squeezing the shoulders of the two dealers sat nearby, a gentle hand on the shoulders of the blonde-haired woman and the brown-haired man already planning a game with the smug-looking scruffy man and a grey-haired man, fiddling with a pair of golden plated die.

“This golden hour is your opportunity to live your lives a step above.”  His fingers gently brushed against the locks of the hair of the woman with the heart-shaped purse as he passed by, his touch lingering lightly against the fuzz of the dusted pink fur of the blonde woman’s boa.  “I invite you all to come and have a dance underneath our emerald-encrusted lights. Have a dance, play games, have drinks with companions, and ultimately…”

He came to a stop in front of Chloe and Hyde, his hand held up, hovering lightly against Hyde’s lips. Chloe glanced up at Hyde briefly, a look present on his face that she couldn’t decipher, yet, extremely evident with discomfort. Her eyes shifted on Saae, an equally indecipherable look present on his face. Secrets locked behind a teasing smile.  “... I hope these next few hours will be as blinding as your wildest dreams.” His eyes shifted slightly, his hand lowering as his eyes met Chloe’s. Leaning down slightly, he moved the microphone away from him, a solemn yet… joyful expression on his face.

“Your grandfather would be very proud of you, Chloe. I hope you enjoy the ball and find that inspiration you’re so desperately looking for.”

Nervously, her eyes fell on the clock.

It was 9:00 PM.

                                                            ---

“That was the perfect introduction to start off the Emerald Masquerade event yet, Saae.”

Placing a hand on Saae’s back gently, Frederick smiled softly. Laughing heartily, Saae gently tapped his wine bottle against the wine bottle Frederick held. Relaxing in the back, as they always do after a masquerade introduction.

“I think having CJ and Roxanne on the team this year did wonders for the public morale to be honest. CJ and Elliott bring a contagious yet light and fun atmosphere, while Roxanne gives Lee the breaks and assistance they need. Even if Rox isn’t the best on the morale, she plays with the love of the game… most of the time.”

Lifting the wine bottle, Saae took a swing of the wine inside, a soft crimson liquid dripping off his lips. Chuckling, Frederick held his wine glass in his hands lightly, white curled hair shifting in and out of his vision.

“We’ve also managed to sell more of those… special packages this masquerade. We’ve made an additional 1500 dollars this year.”

Saae’s face dropped, his eyes frozen on the wine bottle. He could see the back of Frederick’s curly, combed-back white hair in the reflection on the glass, an eerie apathy in his demeanor. He was tired of special packages.

“W… What?”

His words came out breathless, a slight tremble seemingly left unnoticed by the man in the room. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the bottle, sweat dripping down his face. He felt so clammy.

“... Two of our new guests bought your package deals, the 500-dollar ones, as well as our regular deal buyer. Did Elliott not tell you?”

“No. No, he didn’t fucking tell me. Maybe he did. I wasn’t fucking listening because you know I hate-” Putting up a hand, he cut Saae off. How dare you. “I know. Headquarters denied your request, you’re such a major source of income for the casino it would be catastrophic if we lost it. I’m sorry my hands were tied here.”

His chest ached slightly, a tightness in his chest preventing air from entering his lungs. His hand ached from how tightly he held onto the wine bottle, like it was the only lifeline tethering him to a cold dull reality. 

“You’re sorry? You’re SORRY? Frederick, you do realize they touched me even-” “Even when you asked them to stop, I know. And they didn’t stop. They took advantage of you. I know. You’ve told me these stories time and time again, Saae.”

Placing his glass down, Frederick paused nervously. Clasping his hands together, he moved towards Saae slowly. His open hand twitched, his fingers pulling at his skin. A small groan escaped his lips, annoyance dripping from his lips like blood in a river.

“Do you even care? I mean, augh… this isn’t even about me at this point, Frederick. I mean, what if it was someone else-” Pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut shakily. His hands trembled slightly, his chest ached, the shadows of hands reaching out materializing in his mind. “Frederick, please. Just hear me out for once-”  “I don’t have the power to make it stop, Saae. You know that. I can try to put an end to that system, but in the end, I’m just as replaceable as everyone else in this casino-”

His vision blurred, the red and white of Frederick mixing, blurring into nothingness. He felt like a little boy all over again. There was a man, born from the darkest fragments of his frazzled mind, a smug smile on his face. Closing on him like a predator on prey. He felt a slight pressure on his chest, the feeling of ghost-like fingerprints against his chest.

“It’s just so hopeless, day after day after day, and you just don’t fucking CARE-” "Saae."

A slight squeezing, a pressure on his wrists. Saae remembered that night well, it was something that always replayed it on the worst of nights. He remembered crying, pleading with the odd man to stop. His neck ached, the ghostly imprint of teeth burning up against his collar. His fingers scratched absentmindedly against the flaring skin.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel like a piece of meat on a hook, Frederick? To be something less than human.” "Saae... please."

The bottle shifted in his hand. The alcohol in his system, (although not much)  perhaps it had clouded his judgment in an emotional high. His emotions burned a hole in his chest, a blinding aching in his brain. 

“He took advantage of you, I get it-” “NO YOU DON’T! You don’t understand! You’ll never understand it! Fuck, I don’t want you to understand it!”

… His body felt so far away, like something foreign. Watching a movie from an outside perspective, almost. He didn’t remember moving so much. He didn’t remember flipping the bottle in his hand, still filled to the brim with rich crimson wine, so much so it was rather heavy in his hand. His chest ached, his breaths came out as weak wheezes. His eyes blurred, refusing to focus on anything. He blinked slowly. The bottle felt so light now, he wasn’t sure why.

“... I just…”

Black eyes shifted, falling on the blurred bottle. His breath quickened, yet his chest still felt so tight. Lifting it slightly, there was only broken, jagged glass connected to the handle of the bottle. The rest of the glass was missing. The fine crimson wine was gone. 

“... I just wanted you to listen to me so it wouldn’t happen again...”

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he raised a clammy hand in response, wiping the tears from his eyes. A few tears slowly dipped down his face, staining the makeup he wore. He stared at the ground, a blur of colors shaking, and slowly shaping into a scene he only recalled seeing in his nightmares.

Blood dripped from the edge of the bottle, his crimson blood mixing with the fine, crimson wine. His chest squeezed, his chest ached, and his chest burned. Mangled white hair, stained red with wine, a slumped body on the ground. Unmoving.

... I don’t get it.

Frederick wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. He lay still in a puddle of blood and wine. Saae bent down, trembling hands reaching out.

I always dreamed of harming my abusers. 

His hands felt oddly cold. He was always known for being really warm and friendly. Warm and caring, that was who Frederick was. He wasn’t perfect though. 

I wanted to hurt them the same way they hurt me. 

Saae’s fingers brushed through his hair, a mess of wine-stained white curls. His eyes watered slightly. Pulse… pulse… where was he supposed to check for that again…? His mind, racing with thoughts moments ago, was left eerily blank.

I thought it would help me cope. 

His fingers felt so shaky and clammy. He didn’t think he could get a recent reading of Frederick’s pulse, even if he could remember where to check for it at. It wasn’t his fault headquarters was such a demanding piece of shit.

I thought it would help me feel better.

They didn’t care about him. They only cared about profit. As long as people paid good money to touch him, kiss him, get him drunk, to “love” him, to have their way… it didn’t matter. In their eyes, he was nothing more than numbers. A toy to line their pockets.

But it doesn’t. 

And somehow, it was his fault when the words “no” would go unnoticed, when it was convenient. Frederick didn’t ignore his cries for help… he just couldn’t make a choice when it really mattered to Saae. And now he’ll never make another choice, ever again. His eyes fell on the clock.

I just feel regret.

It was 11:20 PM.

                                                         ---

Sitting down at an empty section of the bar, Chloe placed her hands on her lap lightly. Something about Hyde’s expression… bothered her. Even after the masquerade events started up and most of the awkwardness died down, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

Chloe fiddled with her hands nervously, looking up at Hyde. Her brows furrowed in frustration. Her eyes focused on the uneaten tiramisu and the strawberry mojito drink lying on the table. Well, it wasn’t uneaten per se… she had seen him take a bite. And then, he excused himself from the bar for a while, coming back a little paler.

“Are you okay? You seem sad.”

“...”

Shifting in his seat, he leaned on his hands, a complex expression on his face.

“You remind me of my kids is all.”

“You have kids? I’m sorry, how old are you-” Gasping slightly, Chloe slammed her hands over her mouth. That was so rude, Chloe! “- I am SO sorry I didn’t mean it like that you just look so young and-”

Sighing softly, Hyde picked up the fork weakly. Staring blankly at the tiramisu, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“I’m 37 years old. I turn 38 in a week, though. My youngest, Emily, is 10 years old, she overthinks everything just like you do.”

Lowering her hands slightly, her eyes sparkling slightly. A kid, huh…? Reaching out, he gently pushed her messy brown bangs to the side. A weak smile on his face. She felt a little bad for asking.

“But, she’s a really sweet kid. Always brought me food when she thought I needed to eat-” He pointed at the mostly uneaten tiramisu she had ordered for him. “Or asking me if I’m okay.” … was she really that similar to a 10-year-old-

“Oh.”

Rubbing her head in embarrassment, Chloe pouted. However, the pouting only seemed to make Hyde laugh more. A hearty yet genuine smile… Chloe would let it slide. (She says, as if she had any plans of “taking care of it.” to begin with.) Leaning against her hands, her feet swung back and forth on her stool.

“Thank you for the worry, but, really. I’m fine. By the way, how old are you? Since you asked me earlier.”

“Oh! I’m 23 years old!” Placing a finger on her chin, she nodded slowly. “You said your birthday was next week. What day is it?” Curious, she tilted her head, clasping her hands together with stars in her eyes.

“... it’s June 23rd.”

Shifting on his arms, he poked aimlessly at the tiramisu with a frown. Lifting his fork, he mumbled to himself, words left unheard. Then, pushing the edge of the container with the edge of his fork towards Chloe, Hyde shook his head.

“I’m… not hungry. You can have it.”

… Chloe felt herself sigh. She wasn’t sure why. Hesitantly, she took the tiramisu in her hands. What did they say was in it again…? She forgot. Not that she wasn’t listening, of course. In fact, Chloe felt she was listening… a little too much.

“Pfft… look at him, pussy footing around good food. It wouldn’t kill him to put on a few more pounds.” “I don’t know, Marianne. I saw him in the bathroom earlier, gross sounds, I’m telling you, the poor smuck looked paler than a starving girl on a Sunday morning.” “Oh, I bet he couldn’t even eat the shitty wine and crackers they give out on Sunday mornings.” “Oh, he’s probably too sensitive to handle it. I bet a burger would send his ass into the 5th dimension.”

Chloe felt a little sick. Her eyes shifted slightly, glancing over at Hyde. He had his hands clasped over his mouth, looking paler than ever. He looked like he was trying not to cry. Chloe felt more sick.

“Can your arteries handle the grease, Dynasty? With all the junk you spew from your hole, I’m surprised you haven’t choked on the sheer audacity yet.”

... huh?

“I bet a burger would send you into cardiac arrest, and your mommy can’t pay your way out of that one. Mind your business, jackass.”

Looking up fully, Chloe turned. A tall woman walked past the gossiping duo without much more than a ounce of attention. In fact, the woman barely looked back. Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way towards the bar. 

Yelping slightly as the woman suddenly reached out, Chloe swayed slightly. Running her hand around Chloe’s shoulder, she came to a stop suddenly, lilac eyes boring into her soul. Glupping nervously, she tugged at her collar nervously. Did she fuck up by eavesdropping? Oh, she might have fucked up. Mama also told her that it was bad etiquette to eavesdrop on things that didn’t concern you but-

“Your foul mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days, Hermione.”

“Words have consequences. You know that lesson the best. Who’s the kid?”

Tapping Chloe on the nose lightly, Chloe squeaked. Ignoring the strange looks from the woman and Hyde, she reached from her sparkling water to divert from the embarrassment she felt. Talk about drowning in a cringe-filled sea, I mean, really-? Squeaking? What are you! A squirrel??? Damnit Chloe!

“... she’s not a kid-?” “You’re almost 40 years old, Hyde.” “You’re almost 40 years old, Hyde.”

… well, she wasn’t a kid. She was 23 years old! But… compared to Hyde (who was turning 38 in a week), she was still rather young… and 15 years did make a large difference. (At least, all those scientific studies in brain and lifetime development lead her to believe so. However, she was no scientist.) They certainly were in different life chapters. But, she was no kid! … I think.

“My name is Chloe! Chloe Medena!” 

Clapping her hands together in joy didn’t quite help her argument, did it? In fact, Hyde almost seemed appalled by the motion. “Really?” seemed to be written all over his face. However, for her efforts, the odd woman returned the gesture with… a headpat. Wow… she really DID feel like a kid all over again. (But, in a good way this time.)

“My name is Hermione Wesker. You can just call me Hermione, though.”

Hermione, despite her sharp tongue and intimidating aura, wasn’t all too bad, Chloe decided. Mama always said never to judge a book by its cover, no matter if it was worn down or encrusted in jewelry and glamour. It was the inside that always mattered. Mama was right about that, but, it was hard not to judge a book by its cover when she felt the book would try to bite her head off if she looked at it wrong.

“So, you guys met in a widower support group…?”

This book just so happened to have Chloe captivated.

“It brings back memories. Some good, some bad… most of them are painful, though. I lost my husband of six years when I met Hyde, but…”

Hyde’s hands laid on the table softly, a gentle expression on his face. His eyes stared down at the wooden grooves on the table, a soft frown on his face. Just like that, he looked like he was going to cry all over again. Chloe couldn’t help but scoot closer, reaching her own hand out. Gently, placing it on top of his own, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“... I lost my wife to a battle with cancer three years ago. We were together for fifteen years and married for twelve years.” “Oh… I’m so sorry Hyde…”

Lowering his head more, he laughed weakly. Gently lowering his head against the wood of the table, a weak sob escaping his throat. The pain of loss… never fully goes away, does it? The idea scared Chloe a little. She wondered if she’d ever fully heal from Grandpa’s passing, or if she’d be sad over it forever. She wanted to hug him. (She wondered if it would be overstepping.)

She glanced over at the clock. It was 12:10 AM. She didn’t even realize how time flew by. Her eyes shifted again, falling on her drink. She bit her lip. What an… awkward moment to have to use the bathroom. She looked back at Hermione, eyes wide in panic as she swung her legs anxiously.

“... drank too much at the bar, kid?”

She nodded eagerly, a slight pout on her face. I’m sorry! I didn’t see my night going like this, I’m not trying to escape this situation, I sWEAR. Please believe me :(

There was a chuckle as Hermione stood up, placing one hand on Hyde’s shoulder as she leaned over. Getting a glimpse at his face as she lifted it up just enough to free her hands… it made Chloe sad. Sorrow weighed heavy on his features, and even half asleep, pain stained his features, the loss of life etched on his weary body like a curse.

“Thank you…”  She felt like she had to mouth it, but she didn’t want her thanks to go unheard.

Getting up, Chloe clamped her hands together nervously. Suddenly, one shining, glaring issue presented itself… where WAS the bathroom? She didn’t remember if the attendant (Saae? Sae? Say????) mentioned it… her eyes darted from side to side as she walked up the bar nervously. The young bartender (CJ) skipped over, holding a pair of metal cups in her hands with a smile.

“Hi Chloe! What can I get you this time?”

“Uhm, actually… I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the restroom?”

Why did she sound like a young Victorian girl? You’re in the twenty-first century, Chloe, not the seventeen hundreds. What’s next? Asking “Mister Potter” for just a singular crumb to eat? You don’t even know a “Mister Potter”, Chloe!

“Of course, it’s-! Wait, actually, I don’t know where the closest bathroom is.”

“... oh!”

Turning to her right, CJ reached up, tapping Elliott on the shoulder with a wide-eyed stare.

“El. Where are the bathrooms at?”

“Huh? They’re upstairs, why? Did you need to take a break and go?”

Pointing at Chloe (who squeaked in embarrassment. again.), CJ laughed nervously.

“Well, Chloe has to go, but now that you said something… I kind of do too.”

Pausing a moment, Elliott nodded. Holding up a finger, he turned and walked down the bar, moving over to where Saae had been sitting. She watched as he leaned over, whispering to him. There was a nod, as then, Elliott made a motion to CJ, who walked over to the edge of the bar. Opening the gate, Saae walked into the bar, while the two bartenders walked out. Oh, swapping places.

“Come on Chloe! I’ll lead the way.”

Following Elliott and CJ up the stairs, Chloe glanced over at the clock. 

It was 12:15 AM.

Walking up the stairs, she fiddled with her hands, glancing around. Stopping at the top, she glanced over at the event coordinator silently. He had been standing there, leaning against the golden railing, his phone up against his ear. She didn’t remember when he came back to the party, but he had been up here the entire time… she found it odd. Everyone else was enjoying the masquerade, even the co-host, Saae. Yet…

He hadn’t moved an inch.

Glancing at the man as she walked, she could feel her mind wandering again. As she followed Elliott and CJ down the hallway, she wondered, what was he-

Click!

With a slight stumble, Chloe tripped over… something, bumping into CJ. Yelping, CJ stumbled in turn, both of the girls ending up dizzy on the floor. Groaning, Chloe squinted her eyes. She had tripped over… something. But, she couldn’t see what that something was.

BANG!

The sound of a loud gunshot tore through the air suddenly, a sound equally jarring and menacing against Chloe’s ears. Her hands trembled as they shot up to cover her ears, her eyes squeezing shut in panic. There was a muffled thud! that followed, and shortly after… screaming. Lot of it.

“Huh-?!”

Watching- well, not really watching, her eyes were still closed shut from terror- listening to CJ stand up, Chloe yelped as she felt CJ’s hands on her shoulders (well, she assumed it was CJ?), pulling her up off of the ground, and into the bathroom behind them. Her heart raced, and she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her fingertips. Cracking her eyes open hesitantly, the bright lighting of the bathroom flooded her vision, stinging her eyes slightly. The sudden shift brought tears to her eyes.

“... it was only one shot?”

Chloe wasn’t positive in herself, after all, so much of her energy was spent in an attempt to make sure she didn’t shatter underneath the fear she was feeling. However, looking back, CJ nodded in agreement. One shot. It sounded like it came from the second floor, the floor they’re on right now… yet Chloe never hear anyone running.

How odd.

Hestiantly, Chloe popped her head, peering into the hallway. Nothing unusual… I think. Gunshots aside, Chloe really couldn’t wait any longer.

…

Linked arm in arm with CJ, a grizzly sight greeted the girls’ eyes. At the bottom of the ballroom floor underneath where the railing he had been standing on since the ball started was the mangled corpse of Frederick Kronos. Grimacing, she covered her mouth. She had just left the bathroom… yet she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Oh goodness me!”

Running over to Chloe, Hermione grabbed the girl by the shoulders, frantically checking her over before letting out a worried sigh. After letting go of her, she crossed her arms with a shake of her head.

“Way to go and leave at the worst time… Are you two okay?”

Reaching out, her fingers briefly ran over CJ as well, a glint of concern in her eyes. CJ nodded hesitantly, however… Chloe’s eyes began to wander. The entire masquerade party was in shambles.

Her eyes shifted to the body of Frederick. It wasn’t that long ago when… they all saw him alive. She felt like she was going to be sick. 

Bending down next to the corpse, a ponytail of long black hair obscured most of her view of the body. Never had Chloe been so thankful for a bad angle before. Red gloves moved around the body, pulling the coat open to reveal a single gunshot wound, directly positioned in his heart. Chloe couldn’t see much else, but she imagined his blood blossomed in the white silk fabric, like a stain. A disease.

She looked at the gaming tables. Roxanne seemed to try and calm the players of the game. Judging from the blonde woman’s reaction, it wasn’t working. The man with the angel wing earrings was also over there. He looked like he was talking to the man with the brown hair.

Her eyes shifted to the bar, which was all but empty… of course, to no surprise, she thought. The bartenders weren’t there, Hermione was over here, those bad mouthing bar guests were observing the body with Lee. The only two people that weren’t elsewhere was…

He sat calmly by Hyde’s side, Chloe thought. A hand on his back, hunched over, whispering to him. Perhaps calming him. Although, she noticed he didn’t seem too conscious at the moment. His mannerisms… he looked confused.

Her eyes trailed back to the body. His lifeless eyes looked at Chloe, a haunting last image. His lips were pale, they were almost blue in color. Like the life was sucked out of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging onto Hermione like her own life depended on it. Maybe it did.

“Is boss…”

CJ’s voice cracked, and Chloe could hear the terror in her voice. An eerie silence followed, she could hear the sounds of CJ trying to hold back tears. 

“Come on… you two should sit down… a lot has happened…”

Hermione held onto the two girls, slowly moving them away from the body. Chloe didn’t know where they were going. She was too scared to open her eyes. She wasnted to say something.

But all she chould choke out were weak cries of terror.

…

“Are you ladies okay?”

Chloe sniffled as she sat down at the bar, trying furiously to wipe away her tears. It only proved to be futile in the end. She wished she were stronger in times of tragedy.

CJ looked roughly just as deshevled as Chloe herself, and she felt a tad bit guilty for being glad she wasn’t the only hot mess there. It was okay to be a hot mess though… there was a literal corpse in the room with them. They remembered Frederick, smiling so brightly just hours prior.

All that was left of him was a cold, clammy corpse.

“It’s okay… My name is Nuxi. I’m a retired police officer, I’ll just be asking you two a few questions about what happened while you were gone, okay?”

She nodded in silence. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to speak. She wasn’t guilty, she didn’t kill him. But, everyone always said that silence speaks volumes. Maybe she was worried if she spoke, she’d only start sobbing all over again. CJ seemed to feel the same.

The angel earring’d man pulled up an empty bar stool, sitting across from the two girls. Opening up his coat pocket, he retrieved a small pen and notepad. Then, looking at Chloe, he sighed.

“If you don’t think you can talk, don’t try and force yourself to. You both can simply nod yes or no to my questions, okay?”

They nodded silently. Sniffles occasionally broke the silence.

“Alright… around 12:15 AM, you two alongside bartender Elliott went upstairs, correct?”

Chloe nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

“We were going to the bathroom… but when I- I got up there, I tripped over something and-” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her hands trembling. “I fell. I fell and I knocked over CJ. I was looking for whatever it was I tripped over and-” “That’s when we heard it. The gunshot.”

Nuxi was quiet, yet, he seemed attentive, noting down each part of their story. Even as they struggled to get the words out. Even as terror gripped their voices. 

“So we- we hid out in the girls' bathroom… and eventually, we came down and that’s when we-” A sob cut CJ off, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed weakly. She sobbed, and she sobbed… and she sobbed. That was when they came across that grizzly sight. That corpse.

Why did this happen?

Nodding slowly, he placed his hand on his chin slowly, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Chloe could tell, something about the story bothered him. She wasn’t sure what. She was too scared to ask.

“Did either of you happen to catch what time it was when you heard the gunshot go off?”

Pausing slowly, Chloe scratched her chin. The time…? She wasn’t sure, she didn’t remember seeing a clock while upstairs. Or, well, she wasn’t looking for one, at least. She shook her head no. CJ answered the same. Nodding slowly, Nuxi wrote… something down in his notebook.

“You said you tripped over something, Chloe?”

“Uhm… yeah. But, I couldn’t see what it was. And, then the gunshot went off and, I got so scared I couldn’t move. CJ dragged me into the bathroom, assuming the person with the gun was upstairs with us. But, we never heard anyone run from upstairs, since we were really close to the stairs.”

Nodding again, Nuxi mumbled something to himself quietly, his brows furrowed again. Then, closing his notebook, he looked up with a soft expression. 

“Thank you, you two. I have to go question Elliott… have either of you seen him?”

Shaking her head no, Chloe frowned. So caught up, she didn’t see where he went. By the time she had come back to reality, she only saw CJ. She had no idea where Elliott had gone to. 

CJ paused, rubbing her head in confusion. Her brows furrowed, her tongue sticking out as if she were searching the depths of her memories for something.

“If I had to guess, El went to… probably the employee break room that’s nearby the bathrooms. He kept yawning so… maybe he went to get a cup of coffee while we were in the bathroom?”

The break room… interesting. Chloe noted it in her head. Coffee… coffee sounded nice right about now. She was never too big on alcohol anyway.

“Right. Thank you, CJ.”

Nodding slowly, Nuxi placed a hand on his chin. Then, turning away Chloe and CJ, he leaned over. His voice lowered to something, barely above a whisper. Hunching over, he mumbled something she couldn’t catch. Chloe tilted her head slightly. 

Shifting in her chair, her brows furrowed. Her eyes fell on the corpse in the middle of the room. Her eyes watered slightly, she couldn’t help it. Her hands shook slightly as she buried her head in her hands. She was so scared, she couldn’t help it. 

Her brows furrowed. She remembered his words when the ball started, they echoed in her head. They were so nice and comforting in the moment, but now… they’re nothing but ironic last words. (Or well, not maybe his last words but… the last words Chloe ever heard.)

“Thank you everyone for coming to the annual Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade night. Tonight is a special night for everyone here, is it not? Filled with regular, new guests, and new staff working the masquerade (and lively they are.) This masquerade ball is made up of different, unique faces, all here tonight. It’s very exciting, the chance for once-in-a-lifetime memories to be made.”

Memories… memories certainly were made, Chloe thought. However, memories that weren’t… all too pleasant. Not all memories were good, not all memories were pleasant. Closing her eyes softly, she sighed. Covering her face, she couldn’t help but want to cry. She felt so overwhelmed. She wondered if it was over, or if this was just the beginning of a long, long line of tragedy.

...

Welcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade. Slots, drinks and games, this golden hour is your opportunity. 

Come and dance under emerald skies, let these last hours of your life be as blinding as your wildest dreams.

... she wanted to go home.

[ The original poster asks that you repost, do not reblog. ]

...

NAME: "rain_candy" or Ame. However, people also call me by my online alias, Calamity/Cal.

PRONOUNS: She/He/They, uses all three interchangeably.

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: tumblr asks <3 however, if we're good friends/mutuals and we're comfortable around one another, you can also find me on discord.

NAME OF MUSES: My main muses of the moment are my original characters such as Kasumi Kamishiro and Kadence Irving, and my media muses such as Emu Otori and Sparkle. There is a full list of media muses that you can check out here.

NAME OF SERIES: In addition to my main roleplay muses, I also have muses originating from my different writing series, such as The Emerald Masquerade series and the Needy Streamer Overload series. For most of those series, there is a list of the muses which you can check out here. As for the Emerald Masquerade, you can find everything relating to it here, including both design-wise and lore-wise. A rewritten version will be coming onto this blog, however.

BEST EXPERIENCE: To me, meeting new people (and anons) and discovering the particular dynamics between their character and mine. I absolutely love talking character dynamics and character development a ton! I also enjoy helping workshop muses and figure out their defining traits and characteristics.

...

ROLEPLAY PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS:

- Lack of Communication. As someone with autism, it's important that we have a good communication basis! Especially if you have a concept or a plan you'd like to experiment with. Do you need something? Please, come and talk with me!

- Romanticizing/Glorifying Dark Themes. As someone who writes for certain dark themes and draws from their own real-life experiences, there's nothing wrong with having writings and discussions around these topics (One of the most well-loved pieces from me explores various dark topics.) but I refuse to glorify and romanticize them. Especially when it comes to topics like abuse, harassment, or assault. And if I catch you romanticizing these themes, that is a hard block. And please don't try to justify or defend it, that's disgusting.

...

MUSE PREFERENCES: I'm down for any and every kind of dynamic... but my favorite muse preferences are the hot and cold muses who are opposing in every way, they're so different from one another. I'm also a big fan of different kinds of romantic and platonic relationships! They can be the most normal couple or the very essence of toxic yaoi/yuri, but as long as there's chemistry and chances for their relationship to develop and grow... I'm in! Love a good enemies-to-lovers dynamic...

PLOT VS MEMES: BOTHHHHH. Good god, I love shitposts and memes a ton. I love being able to have a good laugh, and some of the best shitposts come from plot-based interactions. It makes for a good mix of serious writing and lighthearted fun... and sometimes meme-ing on people somehow becomes canon lore. As long as we're having fun, who cares, right?

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Oh... hmm. Honestly? I don't mind either. I'm someone who loves a good amount of detail and interest in my stories and my roleplays, but I also understand that fatigue and burnout hit really easily so... anything works! I typically have a more medium length to my responses but... whatever works for you works for me!

BEST TIME TO WRITE: fuck if I know man /j But uh, I think the best time to write, especially a story, is when inspiration hits! Even if it's in small bursts, something is better than nothing, right?