#i've been dreaming...

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

He thunders up the steps of Cradle Tower, bracing himself against the lightning hurtling his way. His hood is thrown off, hair whipping, slapping him in the face and standing on end. Lilia fears no man--but in the presence of such sheer, raw power, he's compelled to cower.

He soldiers through, forcing himself up another step. Right as his foot connects, a wild bolt comes down hard, striking him.

Lilia lets out a guttural cry, his small body keeling over. Every fiber of his being screeches in pain.

"Vanrouge-dono...!!"

He stays stationary for one long, awful moment. Then--a sharp intake of breath--and he miraculously rises on trembling legs.

"H-Hah..." he grits out, clutching onto himself. "Is that... Is that all you've got?! It'll take a lot more than THAT to take me out. Your mother has made me deal with tantrums far worse than this!!"

Lilia resumes the arduous climb. More lightning is lobbed at him. Wincing, he wills his aching muscles to weave as best he can around the incoming attacks.

He's nearing the top of the stairwell now, where the power is most concentrated and the wind howls like a banshee. Lilia raises his voice, calling over the storm.

"Are you upset because no one's paying attention to you? Well, you're wrong!! Everyone... Everyone is terribly worried about you!!

"You're such a spoiled child, rejecting your grandmother's magic. Do you know what will happen to you if you don't take it?! You'll die. You'll DIE, and all the people who sacrificed themselves so you could live was for nothing. You don't have the luxury of choice!! You MUST live!!"

The future depends on you.

He doesn't know if the unborn child can understand him or not. It must, to some extent, because the screaming in his head escalates to a frenzied pitch. A strong gale nearly knocks Lilia off the tower--he grasps onto a column and inches closer to its treasure.

The dark, speckled egg floating inside of a barrier.

"You stubborn thing!! Lilia scolds, pushing against the magical shield. His palms burn, as if coated with acid. "If you still refuse... then take me instead of Maleficia...!! I'll give you everything."

He pushes, the barrier holding firm. Pain climbs up his forearms, eating him alive from the inside out. He feels his energy being leeched, his flesh screaming, on fire, as it is sucked out.

"My love..."

The barrier shudders, shakes.

"My magic..."

His biceps are searing, his blood, molten.

"My life...!!"

A crack.

"Accept it all, Malleus...!!"

It breaks.

Lilia falls through, arms extended toward the egg. He entraps it, hugging it tightly against his chest. It’s warm. Malleus is warm, and Lilia can feel a faint flutter of a heart on his skin. Contentedness floods him, even as he feels the pull of magic as it is drained and hungrily devoured.

The egg gives off a green glow from within. The light grows brighter and brighter, until—

“Kyuuuuuuuuuuu!”

Suddenly, an explosion of blinding white. The shell splinters and sheds.

There is no egg in Lilia’s arms, but a lizard with raven scales and a violet underbelly and spines. It blinks up at the general through round, reptilian eyes, belching a line of emerald fire.

“A-Ah… You are…” Lilia’s knees go weak. He falls to the ground, still cradling the baby to him. “Malleus…! You’re here at long last. I… I-I…”

He doesn’t realize it, but he has started to cry uncontrollably. Fat tears dribble down his cheeks and land on the baby dragon’s hide.

Lilia allows himself to wail. It’s ugly, full of raw emotion. Less human and more like the cry of a hideous beast.

From below, cheers and praise float up to him.

“Our hero!”

“Congratulations, Vanrouge!”

“The prince owes his life to you.”

Their words sting his head. The world wavers, wildly distorting--Lilia can't tell if it's his tears blurring his vision or not.

He crumples over with a groan. "M-My head... Agggh!"

"Kyuuuu?" Malleus pads a claw onto his cheek, confused.

The senator's voices are growing louder, angrier.

"VANROUUUUUGE!!"

"What has he done?! This is going to be a scandal--a scandal, do you hear me?!"

"Oh, to think that a disgusting bat has tainted the noble Draconia bloodline...!"

The contradictory shouts mix. It feels like there are fists beating his skull in from both sides. Lilia hangs his head, pulls at his hair, tries to understand the clashing sounds.

That's when he senses the presence of a shadow standing over him.

"I’ve found you at last, Lilia.”

He slowly raises his eyes, careful to keep Malleus guarded with his arms. There is a man in black robes towering over him, his mouth fixed in a frown. A pair of horns protrudes from his head, crowning his ominous yet regal aura.

“What… Who are you?!” Lilia demands of the stranger. “That face, those horns…!”

They're just like Levan and Meleanor's.

The stranger ignores his question. His expression has morphed from displeasure to anger. "Insolent fools!! How dare they speak ill of you. There will be severe consequences for this.”

The air stirs, chilling. Thunder crashes in the distance, seemingly in response to his fury.

He regards Lilia again, his voice dropping to a dangerously dulcet coo. “Ah, but you needn't concern yourself with them."

He takes a stride forward, and Lilia shrinks away. "S-Stay back! I'm warning you...!"

"What sort of a dream would you like to have this time, hmm?" he asks nonchalantly. "A dream in which mother and father are still by your side? A dream where you can live freely with your children? A dream for you to find true love? Just say the word, and it is yours."

With each suggestion, Lilia backs up further and further--until he is nearly at the platform's edge. Wind blows from below, sending hair and fabric flapping.

Here is the devil, come to tempt, and the jaws of death behind him.

The stranger bends down, his smile serpentine and eyes iridescent, twisted with obsession. Charming as a snake. He extends an arm, palm open. "Come, Lilia. Take my hand."

“FATHER!!”

CLANG!

A bolt of silver arrives, expertly blocking Malleus's outstretched hand. He stumbles back, glaring at the two bodies that put themselves between him and Lilia.

“You are…”

“Are you alright?” The quiet question comes from a boy with aurora eyes—clear as a cloudless sky.

Silver.

“Lilia-sama, stand back!!” His partner, Sebek, barks, baton at the ready. “We will protect you!”

“What nuisances,” Malleus snarls. “Still you insist on disrupting these dreams? It is a hopeless endeavor.”

“Maybe it is.” Silver tightens his hold on his own baton. Resolution threads his voice, and he stands his ground against the encroaching monster. “But we will never stop trying until we’ve broken through your blessing.”

“Bless... ing?”

The single word is like magic. One droplet rippling in a pond, setting off a chain reaction.

Memories fire off—the departure, the packing, the party, well wishes, the thorns. Someone screams, jet black tears streaming down their face. The wrath, the hurt.

“I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU!!”

The fog lifts from Lilia’s head, and the world clears. The identity of the horned stranger, the same as the baby dragon he holds.

Malleus… It’s you. It was always you.

Lilia gives a shaky laugh. "This is no blessing, boys. It's a curse."

Malleus glowers. “… You’ve awakened, haven’t you?!”

“That’s right. It seems I was dreaming for quite some time too—but I’m alright now, thanks to Silver and Sebek~”

“Father…”

“Lilia-sama!!”

“You too then… You’ve decided to turn traitor on me.” He hisses it, loathes the taste of treachery.

“No, Malleus.”

“Kyuuuuuu?”

Lilia steps beside his students—a general joining his knights. Ruby meets emerald, glittering with defiance.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

Jamil ducks in, taking his time to pace around to each vendor. He’s agile and bright, like a child first viewing the moon and rushing to catch it in his palms.

Most sellers—and most customers—are elderly, gnarled like the roots of a tree. The cold colors their rounded cheeks the same red as many of the apples on display.

There’s pink and yellow and green too, and other fresh produce. The majority of it, he is told, is grown in Harveston. Others are foraged from Mt. Moln—nuts, plants, berries, and mushrooms.

Other stalls offer already manufactured goods. Scarves and gloves to protect against the winter, steaming apple drinks and sweetly spiced snacks, toiletries lovingly handcrafted with botanical oils.

His eyes light up with interest. He stops to inspect a row of shampoo and conditioner bars.

Feel free to touch and smell! says a sign at the stall.

He does, testing the weight of a bar in his hand. It is light and has an easy slip to it, and gives off the faint aroma of apples. Slightly tart and juicy.

It'll be good to have on hand, especially when it weighs less than liquid variants. The sign says these bars are made with apple seed oil, an ingredient that treats split ends and dryness while restoring a shine...

He absentmindedly feels the ends of his hair. The locks are normally dark and glossy, but the cold has not treated them well, leaving them slightly dry and brittle.

That's the cost of travel. It can be difficult to predict how my skin and hair react to different climates.

“Excuse me,” Jamil calls out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy one of these shampoo bars, please. One in the conditioner bars as well."

“Sure thing!!” The owner wraps up the bars and slides them over. As Jamil hands him a few bills, he pipes up. “Say, yer not from ‘round here, are ya, sonny?”

“Yes. I am but a traveler.”

“Traveler!” The owner’s eyebrows shoot up. “Real fancy livin’ ya must have."

“No, not at all. I try to live humbly and travel light.” Jamil indicates his backpack, the one piece of luggage that follows him wherever he goes.

"That so? Not many young folk visit these parts." The owner strokes his rounded chin in contemplation. "I figured ya must be on yer way to the city. A lot more for youngins to see 'n do there."

“I beg to differ. The village has shown me incredible hospitality during my stay. Delicious foods, friendliness... I can enjoy Harveston's natural sights without worry. I'm content with just that."

With each word that leaves his lips, he feels the weight that has been on his shoulders lifting.

Jamil, you're free, the wind seems to whisper. The realization is intoxicatingly sweet and crisp, the first bite taken from a forbidden fruit.

"Aww, that warms mah heart ta hear ya say," the owner beams. "Yer a good kid, yer parents would be proud of ya."

"My... parents?" Jamil falters at the mention of them.

His parents are back home. His sister, too. Najma had texted not long ago, pestering him about bringing her a souvenir and asking when he’d be back.

His family is waiting for him. And... who else is there?

Jamil's brows furrow. Suddenly, he feels as though someone should be beside him, and he, trailing after them. A hopeless person buying up all the stalls, shoveling new dish after new dish at him.

"Here, try this, Jamil! Oooh, and this! That looks super tasty, have some too! And this cracker!"

"Where did you get all this food from?! There's no way we'll be able to feasibly finish this before it goes bad. Why do you never listen to me, Ka..."

A growl rips from his stomach. Jamil's eyes widen, and his face heats.

The stall owner's laugh cuts through his confusion. "Gahahah! Ya hungry there, son? Here, lemme grab ya somethin' on the house."

"Oh no, sir, I can't accept that."

"I insist!! Won't be long 'fore ya mosey on outta here and move on ta the next place. Eat yer fill while yer here, there ain't nothin' like a homegrown Harveston meal or snack anywhere else in Twisted Wonderland!"

The owner rustles with utensils behind the stall, He fills a container with a generous slice of pie--oozing with apple filling--and fluffy pancakes, plus a few potstickers. Then he pours hot tea, apple cubes bobbing in the spiced brown liquid, into a paper cup.

Jamil gets a whiff of it from where he stands and--against his better judgment, his mouth waters. When the owner hands him the container, cup, and a wooden fork, he doesn't refuse them.

"Remember us ‘n all the fun times ya spent here."

"Thank you, sir." Jamil bows his head. "I will. I'll never forget your kindness."

"Don't 'cha mention it. Go on 'n git now, ya got plenty more of the village to visit!""

Jamil departs with his purchase and his gifts, which he immediately settles into.

Lifting the paper cup to his lips, he sips his tea. It's deep and tangy from the cinnamon and apples it has been brewed with. He pleasantly warms from head to toe.

It isn't long before he downs the rest of the drink, apple cubes and all. They're not fresh, but dried--so when his teeth slices them into halves, they're springy and chewy, with a strong flavor.

Jamil lowers the cup, dragging out a satisfied sigh.

It's then that he realizes he's walking directly into a black wall. He veers sharply to the right, but still brushes his arm against that of the incoming person.

“Pardon me. I wasn't watching where I was going...” Jamil looks back, but is startled to find no one where his shoulder has made contact.

Hm? Was I imagining things?

Jamil glances around the marketplace. The crowd is too sparse for him to miss anyone. There are grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, each dressed in thick coats and boots, some wrapped in scarves and others sporting fuzzy hats or earmuffs.

But no one is wearing all black.

He shakes his head.

It was probably nothing then.

Jamil returns to browsing the square, his every stride as light as a feather. He feels as though he is dancing atop the snow.

The cold no longer bothers him.

The wind, carrying a new message that resonates with his heart. It seems stronger now, rumbling like a deadly avalanche.

"Yes, mother. This will be the year I apply for internships, so I cannot afford to slack off in my studies. I want to ensure I am the strongest possible candidate for the law and medical internships I'm interested in."

She nods approvingly, setting the tray upon his desk. "It's good to be thinking about your future now--but be sure to take breaks when appropriate. I've brought you some Darjeeling, first flush. Its light and delicate flavor is perfectly refreshing for a sweltering day."

Mrs. Rosehearts starts to pour the chilled tea for him. Right as the aromatic, golden brown stream ceases, she lets out a small gasp. "Ah, yes--your schedule is open tonight, correct? Your father will be fetching a strawberry tart on his way home from work, and I've prepared all your favorite foods. You can eat as much as you like!"

Riddle's stomach flutters.

There are so many things wrong with what she has said, but he exclaims the first question to emerge in his mind.

"We're having a celebration? Together?"

"Of course we are. It's your birthday," his mom replies plainly. "Why wouldn't we celebrate our special little boy?"

"I... I don't know," Riddle confesses. For reasons he cannot explain, his head suddenly feels foggy. "I just can't recall the last time we did something like this as a family."

You've never seemed happy with one another.

He does not dare say it out loud.

Mrs. Rosehearts carefully regards her child.

"Certainly, your father and I have very busy schedules on account of our work at the hospital. You've immersed yourself in your schoolwork. It can be difficult making plans that align with all three of us--but we make time to spend with our loved ones."

Mrs. Rosehearts leans down and plants a feathery kiss on his head, a hand lovingly stroking his hair. So soft, so tender. She smells of roses on a bed of vanilla and amber, the same heady comfort as the exhilaration of collapsing, out of breath, after spinning in circles in the summertime.

The frantic thudding in Riddle's chest slows. He leans into her touch, her fragrance.

"Okay," he says quietly. A slight wetness prickles his vision. "I think... I'd really like that, mom."

He stays there, in her embrace, for longer than he thinks he should. The minutes are slipping away from him, but Riddle cannot bring himself to pull away. The cradle of roses is enchanting, spilling wool over his eyes.

He is completely, utterly, certifiably entranced.

Ding-dong!

Mrs. Rosehearts lifts her head. "Hm? That's strange. That can't be your father. He doesn't get out of work for at least another hour--and he wouldn't need to ring the doorbell, he has his keys."

"It is odd," Riddle agrees.

"Excuse me, it will take just a moment to check. Perhaps it's the mailman."

Mrs. Rosehearts gathers herself and departs. From the study, Riddle can hear the front door swinging open, followed by muffled chatter. Excited, boyish.

His mother's voice, raising.

Dread fills him.

He abruptly stands, his chair harshly skidding back with an unpleasant whine.

Riddle races into the hallway and to the foyer. He's not sure which is faster: his heart, or his feet? His mind struggles to catch up, to process everything--

The front door is ajar.

His mother, on one side. And on the other...

Two young men.

One with short hair in dark green and bright yellow eyes peering out from behind thick frames. He holds a hefty cake in his hands--a shortcake iced in whipped cream frosting. The strawberries piled on top shine like forbidden jewels.

Beside him is a boy with choppy bangs, a pair of feline ears bearing a plethora of earrings pokes out from his head. He has a lazy grin and disheveled clothes, reclining like a sunbathing cat against the first visitor.

His friends spot him before his mom does, and their faces light up.

"Uh-oh, guess the cat's out of the bag now," Che'nya giggles.

"Wh-What are you two doing here?!" Riddle demands. Not angry, but fearful. He nervously glances at Trey--Trey, whom his mother had angrily banished from their home until the end of time.

"We wanted to drop by and surprise you," Trey explains. He's too calm for this situation--especially when Mrs. Rosehearts is standing right there.

Any minute now, Riddle suspects she will explode. She will scream at Trey and Che'nya until she is a darker red than her hair. She will slam the door in their faces. She will threaten to call the police. She will--

"Riddle, you didn't tell me your friends would be joining us this evening!" Mrs. Rosehearts beams, stepping aside and waving for the boys to enter. "Please, come in! You can spend some time together before dinner.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Myaaa-uch appreciated!”

Trey and Che’nya cross the threshold with ease.

Riddle blinks. “But what about my studies…?”

“Studies? At a time like this?” Trey gives a light laugh. “We’re not at school, Riddle. You can relax a little. Just let me put this cake away and then we can all hang out, okay?”

“My father is already going to be bringing a tart later…”

“Oooh, double the desserts? Don’t mind if I do! I’ll swipe two slices of both.”

“Don’t be greedy, Che’nya! You have to save some for the rest of us, especially the birthday boy.”

“Me?” Riddle’s brows crease. “I…”

“It’s fine,” his mother coaxes. “Go and be with your friends.”

“Is that okay? Is that… really, really okay?”

Mrs. Rosehearts steps toward him, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes are dewey, and her face looks more gentle than he has ever seen it.

“Yes. This is your youth, Riddle. You only live once—so live this life to its fullest. If you could promise me that, then nothing would make me happier.”

“Mother…!”

Riddle tugs her into a hug. It is fast, it is fleeting, it is a flicker of light peeking through a keyhole. He opens that locked door and emerges on the other end.

He chokes out his response.

Two simple words, carrying all his hopes and dreams.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in forever, he smiles with all of his heart.

But beyond the happy boy, cheeks streaked with tears, beyond the door that divided him from the world... a shadow hides in the shade of a rose tree.

It looks on, and smiles too.

“Nii-san…! It's me,” he calls out in desperation. “I’m your little brother, Ortho!!”

"Or... tho?" Idia strains to say the name aloud. He looks so lost, so dazed. His head screams with pain. "But Ortho is right here. How can you be in two places at once?"

He holds up his phone, set to speaker. The caller ID--it reads "Ortho". The dream Ortho, the imposter Ortho, the Ortho that is alive. The Ortho that Idia had always wished for, the life without regrets and guilt.

His core burns. Ortho isn't certain if it is from frustration or anger or hurt. He knew this was coming, had been warned of it. Still, nothing could match the real thing, the face of his brother telling him that he is the lie.

“Don’t listen to him, Nii-chan. I’m the real Ortho. The other one?” There’s a faint chuckle from the other end of the line—Ortho detects a hint of condescension in it. “That’s a figment of your imagination."

"Ah... I see," Idia mumbles. He seems to sway, his eyes lidding, as if drifting off to another dream. The pain vanishes, washed away by Ortho's reassurance. "That makes so much sense."

A figment? Just that?

A weight comes upon Ortho's chest. If he were a living being, he would, perhaps, find it difficult to take a breath.

"Don't move. I'm coming there to help you," the other Ortho says sweetly. His tongue, forked as a cobra's goes unnoticed by Idia, who simply nods.

"Nii-san! Don't do it! You have to get away... w-wah!!"

Ortho flinches, his screen suddenly filled with black goo oozing up from the floor. From it, a boy in a pure white uniform and a royal blue sash emerges like a vampire from its coffin. In the place of the pale flesh characteristic of the Shroud family is skin that is only half solid, dripping in fat dark globs as his arms wrap around Idia.

"I'm here now. It'll be okay."

Idia's eyes go blank, his limbs, limp. A compliant doll, under the dream's influence.

Ortho's stomach lurches, and he launches himself at the screen. The urgency in his voice rises, hitting a fever pitch.

"NO...!!"

"You don't have to think about anything," the other Ortho whispers, a snake at Idia's ear. "You must be tired from playing too many games. That's why your mind is compensating by simulating dreams in reality. Let's get you back to bed.”

"Okay... Whatever you say, Ortho..."

“Nii-san, don’t go there…!”

The darkness creeps like vines up his legs, slowly swallowing Idia up. He sinks into the floor, an inky pit of quicksand. Bit by bit, piece by piece, Ortho is losing his brother.

His connection grows fuzzy. Static consumes the screen.

It's no good. My voice... It can't reach him!

His vision burns, but does not become slick with tears. His processors must be overheating, going haywire. He cannot cry, cannot let his overwhelming emotions spill over like a human can.

The ground beneath Ortho shifts. It, too, turns black, as if rotting away. Gooey tendrils reach for him, threatening to drag him under too.

Ortho struggles against his restraints, cries out in defiance.

A voice comes from the monitor, greatly warped and distorted. Then a second, a third, a whole slew of them, spewing vile things.

You are not needed. You are not wanted.

You are worthless. You are nothing--less than nothing.

He is happier without you. He would be happier if you never existed. You could never hope to be his real family.

A massive pair of poisonous verdant eyes opens in the void. They're reptilian, pupils slit against a backdrop of emerald.

"Begone," Malleus hisses, the command coiling around Ortho like a snake. His oppressive presence pushes on the boy, forcing him to kneel. "You do not belong in this world, young Shroud."

"N-No, you're wrong!" he protests. "I... I'm...!!"

A substitute, a spare, the shadows cackle. A hunk of junk. Scrap metal.

His core goes quiet and cold as a terrifying dread sets in. It smothers his circuits, silences his systems, locks his limbs.

The darkness wriggles with delight.

Electricity crackles.

A transmission comes to life. It comes from Ortho himself, from a speaker embedded inside of him.

"Sorry, Or-kun! Mama's going to override...!"

Suddenly, a great heat generates in his chest. Light gathers, piercing the black surrounding him, then fires. The laser is explosive, easily slicing the goop, which erupts into sludgy bubbles.

Ortho comes free, the rockets at the soles of his feet kicking on to propel him into the sky. In a blaze of brilliantly blue fire, he's airborne.

"Mom...!" he gasps.

In response, she simply giggles. "Hehe, I'm not going to just sit on the sidelines and watch my precious baby boy be deceived! There's no wrath like mama's love~"

"Dear..." his father sighs. There's a pause, then he clears his throat. "As your mother was saying, this is but a clever deception. A false reality. You have always been our true son and always will be."

True son.

His dwindling energy reserves shoot through the roof. He's been hit with a thousand suns, reinvigorated.

"Thank you, mom. Thank you, dad. I'm okay! You don't need to worry about me, I understand now."

This was never a dream to begin with. It's not even close. This is... a nightmare that twists the truth, even to intruders!

He places a hand on his chest, feeling the blue flame that perpetually burns there. His brother had lovingly placed it, powered it, protected it. The fire pulsates, proof of his existence.

Proof of his life.

Do you remember, nii-san? You promised we'd go out and play heroes. Now... it's my turn to play hero for you.

I will surpass my limits... break through this illusion... and save you!

Hang in there, Idia. Your little brother, Ortho, is coming to bring you back to your senses! Just leave it to me.

"Shoot for glory among the stars and soar like a comet! Ready or not, here I come...!"

Summoning all of his strength, Ortho furiously plunges into the darkness. It pushes against the interloper--but he burns red hot, flies too fast. He's a shooting star in the shape of a child, filled to the brim with determination.

In the black, black, black, a speck of white appears. It grows steadily, forming a mirror to another world. Its face, staring down at Night Raven College's courtyard.

A familiar trail of blue flames hurries past an apple tree, meeting with a horned man in matching robes.

There you are.

Ortho braces himself--

"There you go!" he declares, sliding the contract and the pen back to Azul.

“Thank you very much!" he gushes, snatching up the paper like an octopus might ensnare its target--it is worth its weight in gold, and more. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Kalim-san.” “My people will be in contact with your people.”

"Looking forward to it." Kalim reclines in his cushy armchair--one of many that decorate Azul's office. "It's crazy how things work out, huh? I didn't think this is how we'd reunite all these years later."

"Fufufu, it must be fate. I'm honored that you would come and seek me out like this."

Azul rolls up the contract and ties it with a string. It will soon be filed away with the others in an ever-expanding vault.

"Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the heir to the Asim trading company would approach me for a franchising opportunity."

"Everyone wants a piece of the hottest new restaurant chain. You see Mostro Lounges everywhere now. Having locations in the Scalding Sands can offer tourists a little bit of home away from home if they want the option of something familiar."

"Of course, I completely understand," Azul drawls. "On our end, we will do our utmost to craft unique menu items which will showcase the best of what your home country has to offer. It's sure to be a success!"

Calm, he may display outwardly--but inside, Azul is cheering, fist pumping, and bouncing off the walls with glee. Securing this deal is massive for him, for his business.

"We should celebrate," Kalim suggests, gesturing for his attendant. He wears many bejeweled rings which sparkle with the flicker of his fingers. "A drink? I can call for a bottle of the finest wine."

Azul holds up both hands. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly. I'm afraid I have a lunch engagement right after this. I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite."

His client laughs from his belly, deep and resonant. "I won't keep you any longer then. You have my contact information if you need to discuss the project."

Kalim rises, and at once, his attendant is magically at his side, helping him into his coat.

Azul waits several minutes after they've filed out to enter the code into his safe and deposit the agreement safely inside. The vault door swings shut with a heavy CLANG--and upon its shiny metallic face, he glimpses himself. He's grinning like a cat that has gotten the cream.

His digital watch blinks on, buzzing slightly. Right on cue, his alarm is going off.

Lunch.

Azul heads for the door, tidying himself up on the way. Adjusting the brim of his hat, the lapels of his suit. He mustn't be embarrassed, mustn't be teased.

He opens the door and--

POP, POP, POP!!

Confetti rains down, catching in his headwear and the jacket that hangs off of his shoulders. His assailants wear the same sharp-toothed smiles and mischievous glint to their eyes.

"Jade, Floyd. You two never cease to surprise, do you?" Azul sighs, brushing off the confetti and letting it flutter to the ground. "I thought the plan was to meet at the restaurant, not at my office."

"That was the original intent, yes."

"We changed our minds and came to see you instead, since it's such a big day!" Floyd elbows him. "Finally cinched that big deal with Sea Otter-chan, eh? Now you can make truckloads more money!"

"It's not about the money," Azul corrects him. "The money is nice, yes--but it's the new connections which will prove to be a long-term benefit.

"A clause in the contract stipulates access to the highest quality ingredients procured by the Asims. If all goes well, I can make other requests! Fine china, lavish furniture, a working relationship with Kalim-san, a hefty name with which to brag to other potential clients...!"

The world, his oyster.

The idea makes his smirk grow into a smile.

"Fufufu, things are looking up for the Mostro Lounge's empire! Then even more dough will roll in, far more than the upfront costs of the initial investment!!"

"Aaaah, Jade. Looks like he's lost it again."

"You're right, Floyd. I can practically see the thaumark signs in his eyes," Jade chuckles. "It's good to see that you haven't changed in all these years, Azul. You're still every bit as amusing as you were back then."

"Hmph!" He folds his arms. "What did you expect, that I'd collapse into a wobbling mess without you two at my beck and call? I'll have you know that I'm perfectly competent and capable of running a business without you."

The twins share a skeptical look with one another.

"That's his way of saying he misses having us around. He wants to hang out with us sooo bad."

"It most certainly is. He misses our companionship so much that he personally reached out to invite us to a meal to reconnect."

"And brag about his accomplishments."

"Yes, that as well."

"I-I did NOT!!"

"Tsk, tsk, Azul. You should be more honest with yourself," Jade tuts. "All this success, and you're still unable to afford an ounce of humility? I'm appalled."

"That's rich, coming from you," Azul shoots back. "I could have lunch with any number of wealthy and powerful clientele, but I've chosen to have it with you two! Is that alone not enough humility for you?!"

"Awww, so you did miss us!"

Azul's cheeks color. "I-I never said that!"

So much for not being embarrassed, not being teased. Some way or another, he always falls prey to the Leech brothers' antics.

"He's still being shy, Jade."

"He is, Floyd."

"Know what? This calls for a group hug. I bet that'll help him open up to us."

"You're absolutely right. A group hug will fix this matter in a matter of moments."

"Excuse me?! I-I do not consent to this in any way whatsoever! We must be on our way, our reservation will not hold forev..."

GLOMP!

Azul is embraced from both sides, Jade and Floyd's arms wrapping around him and squeezing him tight. He gasps for air, wriggling between them.

"... Fine, you win," Azul groans, melting into the hug. He tells himself that he has simply given up, not that he enjoys the closeness, the intimacy of friendship. "Are you satisfied?"

"Very~" Jade and Floyd chorus.

"If that's the case, then we'd better get going. That reservation really will expire if we overshoot the 15-minute grace period." Azul pauses, then frowns. "I certainly hope you weren't thinking of walking all the way to the restaurant clinging to me like this. I have a public image to maintain."

Neither brother budges.

"... Jade? Floyd? You did hear me just now, didn't you?"

"Hm, did you hear that, Floyd? It sounded like a mosquito buzzing in my ear."

"I didn't hear anything at all, Jade. Maybe it was just the wind!"

"You two...!!"

Their bickering floats down the hallway and meets a pair of pointed ears.

Ah, squabbling—the true sign of a happy reunion. The listener grins.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.