Chapter Text
When Cale woke up, although he wasn’t sure that that was the right term for this, his first reaction was what the fuck.
He spent a few minutes observing himself and his surroundings. He was wearing generic noble attire, which was not what he was wearing when he had died, and he was slightly translucent. He got up from the floor, experimentally jumping.
Oh fuck, I’m floating. This was quite the situation. He had to use most of his willpower to get himself back on the floor, deciding to experiment more with that later.
Cale’s conclusion: He’s very dead. No doubt about it. He is now a stereotypical ghost.
When he was alive and well, he hadn’t wondered much what the afterlife could possibly be like. It didn’t interest him, for one, and he figured thinking about it while he was in the middle of a war would be nothing short of a death flag. The death flag to end all death flags, one could say.
He didn’t know if there was a heaven or hell, and he didn’t know if people got reincarnated or lived out their afterlife as ghosts. Frankly, he hadn’t cared enough to know. Not like there were any dead people to ask in the first place.
Cale didn’t think Choi Han or Raon had been dead long enough to find out, anyway, so no point in asking.
To be truthful, Cale still didn’t know for sure. After all, he did stake his afterlife on that deal, so this could be something totally different compared to what happens when most people die.
Perhaps it’s better if I don’t know, he pondered. He took a moment to actually take in his surroundings, noticing that it was completely barren. Not a single person or item around. How boring.
He really wanted the God of Death to show up. To be able to give that bastard a good punch would be quite therapeutic for all the trouble he put Cale through. After all, as far as Cale knew, there was no way to leave this… Weird desolate place. He was stuck here until someone else showed up.
Truly, I hate to be dependent on that God for anything, Cale sighed. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from making a deal to sacrifice his life. That’s how he got into this situation in the first place. He started floating around in boredom, trying to figure out the… Mechanics of it, so to speak.
But, Cale paused in the air, placing a hand on his chin in thought, seriously, what is taking him so long?
–Ah, there you are.
The hell do you mean “there you are?” You say that like you lost me.
–That’s because I did lose you.
Cale could almost feel his blood pressure rising. First the dude loses Cale somehow, and now he can apparently hear his thoughts. The power of a God truly exceeds expectations, regardless of if said God is omnipotent. Or omniscient, or whatever the term is.
He could barely hear the God sigh in his mind, making Cale just a bit more irritated than he’d been before.
–I was going to meet you elsewhere, but for some reason your soul went there instead. I was going to go there myself, but I fear you’ll try to slug me if I show up within a mile of you.
Damn right I will.
–So I’ll just explain everything like this, while trying my best to ignore your killing intent.
He could hear the God clear his throat and begin to speak monotonically, as though reading words straight off a script. The concept of a God clearing his throat in his mind was confusing to Cale, given that it could be assumed GoD was speaking to Cale telepathically, therefore there was no throat to be cleared, but the ghost carefully decided to ignore it for the sake of his sanity.
He went with the assumption that the God of Death did it for dramatics.
–Your soul belongs to me, so whenever I call on you for work that needs to be done, you’ll have to come…
The God paused, as though thinking to himself for a moment.
–Which shouldn’t be for a while now, because I have Choi Jung Gun running all my errands, and he’s doing a perfectly fine job handling it. You need time to adjust anyway.
He returned to his explanation, telling Cale that while he couldn’t interfere with much in the dimensions, he was able to travel freely between them.
“What do you mean I can’t interfere with much? ” Cale asked, now speaking openly. His voice sounded weird, his hand subconsciously hovering around his neck.
The God sighed, as though knowing Cale would question that part.
–For some reason, your interference with the dimensions is not entirely blocked. It’s weaker in Kim Rok Soo’s world, but you can interact with people or items in Cale Henituse’s world to some extent.
Cale nodded, satisfied. He found that to be a good thing, knowing that he had the possibility of being able to interact with his family again, albeit minorly. It made him feel strangely giddy.
Family, huh?
–Also, strangely, your ancient powers did not disperse when you died. They were tied to your soul, and since your soul didn’t really disperse, you should still have access to the ancient powers and other abilities you had before your death. They won’t be of much use anymore, and they are weaker, but your connection with the previous owners of the ancient powers should return once you’re out of here.
Oh, so that’s why it was so quiet. Cale was unaccustomed to complete silence, especially after saving Raon and getting all of his ancient powers. They were all very noisy and didn’t give Cale a break, but on the rare occasions that he couldn’t hear anything, he honestly missed the ruckus.
Cale smiled. Yes, this truly was the best situation that could have come out of this. While the situation in and of itself was not… The best, (he was dead, after all,) this was the best possible outcome. He wasn’t completely gone.
–Give me a second to get you out of there. I’ll contact you later.
Cale closed his eyes for a moment, and found himself in a familiar place when he opened them again. He’d been placed in the Forest of Darkness, which thankfully was not far from the Black Castle, where Cale hoped everyone still resided.
Unfortunately, Cale had not been blessed with the ability to teleport, so he would have to find his way there manually. If Choi Han and Raon were not at the Black Castle, then Cale probably would have no way of finding them. The idea of that was rather uncomfortable.
–Cale? Oh my god, we lost contact with you for a while.
A familiar voice invaded his mind. It was Super Rock, who sounded very concerned.
“Mmm, yeah.” Cale said. “Probably because I died.”
There was silence in his head for a moment, perhaps because that was the very harsh reality of the situation. The harsh reality that Cale just casually mentioned.
Is it still a sensitive topic? Cale bit his lip. Feeling awkward, he experimentally placed a hand on a tree, and felt satisfied when it didn’t fall through. With a little pressure, his hand phased through the tree and sent him stumbling a bit, unbalanced.
As he said, my influence is limited, Cale thought, gripping a fist, but it’s enough.
There was still one more issue that needed to be addressed: Cale had little idea as to where he was going.
Even with his superb memory and his power to record, abilities like those tended to be made worthless in the face of a very dense forest. No matter where you ended up, everything seemed to look the same, so there was little use for any sense of direction. It was a different story if you had entered the forest on your own two feet, but such was not the case for Cale.
Cale had, unfortunately, just been dropped in what he was forced to assume was probably the middle of the forest. He knew the way to the Black Castle and the Super Rock Villa when he entered the Forest of Darkness from Harris Village, of course, but that path he’d recorded was essentially useless now.
Cale took a deep calming breath. No point in getting irritated now, he thought. After all, there was no use in it. What’s done was done, and he doubted the God of Death would be generous enough to plant him closer to the Castle now.
So he had one more guiding light. After all, if he could find the Villa, then the Castle wasn’t too far off.
–Start heading East.
As though reading his mind, the Super Rock spoke up.
Cale mumbled an affirmative, knowing Giant Scary Cobblestone would know exactly where they were. He turned what he believed to be East and began his journey. There was little in the Forest that was familiar to Cale. After all, he’d explored it very superficially. The Forest went for miles across, and Cale never felt the need to explore it.
With that being said, having the Super Rock to act as a guide was quite helpful. After all, the original owner of the ancient power had claimed the Forest of Darkness as his home. Cale would be more concerned if he didn’t know the forest like the back of his hand.
A journey that would have taken days for the average person/ghost took Cale only a few hours thanks to Sound of the Wind. Unfortunately, his flying abilities as a ghost were rather inadequate by themselves. While most natural factors had little to no effect on his ghostly self, the same couldn’t be said for his ancient powers. He could influence the environment around him with them as well as himself, so it was rather convenient.
He reached a lone grave that was rather decorated. Flowers everywhere from roses to hyacinths adorned the tombstone, and it was well maintained. Tree saplings lay around the area, clearly having been planted recently given how disturbed the grass around looked. They appeared nice and bright, a stark contrast to the forest around him.
Whoever lies in this grave must’ve been well loved. Out of his curiosity, he floated towards the gravestone, reading the words engraved upon it.
Oh, he thought, suddenly feeling a lot more mournful than before, it’s me. It’s my gravestone.
It hadn’t really hit him until now, but of course his death would impact these people. While he himself didn’t think he was anything special, the same couldn’t be said for those in their group like On, Hong, or Raon. Choi Han, even.
It made him feel rather melancholy. He decided to take a break, sitting down at the gravestone, wiping the small bits of dirt laid atop it onto the ground below it.
A savior, huh? He almost wanted to scoff at the idea. He didn’t think that was the case. As a matter of fact, he’d barely done anything himself.
He drew small circles into the ground before him with his finger, deep in thought. It’d been everyone else who did all the hard lifting, after all. All Cale had done was lay the groundwork for the White Star’s defeat. To call him a savior was too extreme in his eyes.
Titles like “hero,” or “savior,” came with more responsibility than it did power or benefits, especially with the publicity that came with owning said titles. Having them would be useless, or even a burden, to Cale. He was aiming for a peaceful life, and constantly having to be in the spotlight would make retiring a difficult endeavor.
Of course, it was still useless to him even now. After all, any influence that could be used with him owning such a title was pretty much null, given he had no physical body with which to use it. While he could interact with the things around him, it was still limited, and it’s not like people can see him anyway. If he tried to use that influence, no one would believe it.
While this world was a world of magic and otherworldly beings, the idea of the existence of ghosts was not widely accepted. It was almost frowned upon, even, as ‘ghosts’ or any other word related to the spirits was, in a weird way, associated with despair and black magic. Especially now, in a time of recovery from said black magic.
In essence, people don't like ghosts. Even if it was Cale, it would still be heavily condemned.
Cale lifted his finger from the ground, patting grass and dirt back into the small circles with his palm, as though to show he’d never been there at all.
Still, he thought, smiling, it’s a bit nice.
There was something strange about having those stupid titles. They almost made Cale feel satisfied. Content, even. If he were alive, they'd be a huge burden on his shoulders, but as he was… It felt like he was getting recognized for all the pain and hardships he went through to get there.
All he’d done, of course, was intended for his own benefit. There was no disputing that. How it was intended to be didn’t quite… End up as he’d wanted, of course. Cale didn't get his slacker retirement ending as he expected he would, but this was still a reward in and of itself. Because while it was intended to be for himself, it also created a more comfortable world for the ones he cherished after he was gone. He was satisfied with that.
If he couldn't have peace for himself, the least he could have done was provide it for those he loved. That was enough, wasn't it? Besides, although Cale would have to get back to work soon, as was part of the deal, he still had some time to enjoy himself in this world. After all, the God of Death had allowed him that much, at least.
Cale took a deep breath in, releasing it shortly after. He didn’t actually have any need to breathe, but it was more of a mentality thing for him, or a comfort. The idea of not breathing made Cale feel a little uncomfortable, as childish as it felt.
He stood up from the ground, planting his feet down in a sudden urge to walk the rest of the way to the castle, despite the technical lack of necessity. Cale hasn't been dead for very long, so perhaps he was still feeling the slightest bit human.
The walk wasn't long, anyway. He got through the gates without much trouble, guessing that the gates still recognized him as the owner of the crown, or something. The magic preventing outsiders from getting through allowed him to pass without fanfare.
The gates themselves didn't open for him, which Cale was grateful for. He figured it may cause some sort of confusion within the castle, given they would have opened for what appeared to be no one. Cale began to feel slightly nervous and some weird spirit form of nauseous. He didn't even know that was possible until now.
I’m here, but what do I do now? Cale didn't exactly plan that far ahead, which was rather unlike him, but he didn't exactly care enough to. One step at a time, Cale.
Despite what he originally came here for, to see Choi Han and Raon, he wasn't sure if he was ready to. Ever since he visited the grave, waves of doubt and guilt had washed through his mind, emptying it of most of the sure thoughts he had remaining.
Should I do it at all? Cale had thought. Isn't it better to just observe?
One step at a time.
It could be figured out later. He wasn't on any strict time constraints, after all. Cale swallowed the doubts back down, sighing. Yes, one step at a time. He would go to a place where, hopefully, no one would be in order to sort himself out. That place being his own room, of course. Or ex-room, since he’s not using it anymore.
He carefully avoided any signs of life on his way there, out of fear that his resolve may waver if he saw anyone he knew. Cale had never held much fear before, as most of his life had been filled with indifference regardless of the situation, but he supposed that being dead really did something to people.
Cale was able to breathe a sigh of relief as he pushed through the door and entered the room. He observed right away that something had changed.
Strangely, almost all of his belongings were shoved into the room. It wasn't entirely neat, but it was well enough. He cringed slightly when he saw his Commander uniform hanging on the wall, before shaking his head, sighing as a light smile rose to his face. It didn’t take long for it to disappear.
The room painfully reminded him of the Sound of the Wind’s test. He vaguely recalled wandering around and finding all of his (then dead) friends’ belongings stored in their rooms, feeling rather melancholy during his recollection.
Cale swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat. He inhaled, repeating his mantra. One step at a time. There truly was no need to rush this, after all. He had all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, he bitterly thought. He can’t even rest after death, it seems. He bit down the poisonous thoughts, shaking his head. Cale collected himself once again, closing his eyes for a short period. It’s fine.
Opening his eyes, his gaze slid over to the bed. It looked as it usually did during the day, but it looked strangely used. It was weird, considering the one who normally was supposed to use it was, you guessed it, very dead.
Come to think of it, Cale pondered, how long has it been since I’ve died?
He clearly remembered the Giant Scary Cobblestone telling him that they’d “lost contact with him for a while,” but how long had it been? He turned away from the bed, asking into the open air confidently, knowing no one could hear him:
“How long have I been dead?”
The powers were silent for a moment, as though reluctant to tell him. Cale tapped his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.
–Two months.
It was the hungry priestess who spoke up. Cale pursed his lips. He turned his eyes back toward his bed, noticing something off. He stepped closer to the bed warily, as though whatever could be there would hurt him.
His heart clenched as he took in the scene before him. Three masses laid on his bed. One black, one gray, and one red. They looked like they hadn’t slept in a while, appearances messy. Raon, On, and Hong cuddled each other, Raon surrounded by the cats. A wave of guilt and sadness washed over Cale like a tidal wave, a painful reminder of what he had done and what he had given up.
He watched them for a short while, sulking. When he saw Hong shiver, he gently picked up the blanket, suddenly grateful for his ability to haunt stuff or whatever this was, and placed it over the trio. Cale made a decision then and there.
I can’t leave it like this.
Cale sat himself atop the bed, just before the children. The bed sank slightly under what little pressure Cale put upon it, just enough for him to feel there, but small enough to where it wouldn’t disturb the other occupants.
He let a small breath out, raising a hand and absentmindedly stroking Raon as he used to before all this happened. He froze when Raon stirred, inching closer to the chicken out option that he knew was still available.
Cale shook his head, removing the thought from his mind entirely. He removed himself from the bed and hovered over to his desk, sitting down and wincing at the hole that remained in the wall. I’ll have to apologize to Choi Han. Part of him wondered why it hadn’t been repaired, but another part, although a much smaller one, could begin to understand why.
He rested his palm on his cheek thoughtfully, inching one hand along the cracks in the wall. It was a demonstration of power that few humans held, although much more tame in comparison to the man’s full power.
Cale snorted, acknowledging that at full power, Choi Han could probably destroy the entire castle with relative ease. He recalled with slight nostalgia how strong Choi Han had been back when they first met.
He had been reluctant to be around as the swordmaster continued to get stronger in order to “pay Cale back,” but now decided that it was probably for the best to have facilitated his growth as much as he could.
Cale let out a light breath through his nose. He stopped his finger where the cracks were centralized, noting that Choi Han must have been holding back a lot. He shuddered at the thought.
He leaned back in the chair, reminiscing on every event that led him to where he ended up. With a sense of finality, he decided that he would make every decision he’d made up until now again if he had the chance.
While Cale regretted not having more time, he didn’t regret his decision to make a deal with the God of Death. He furrowed his brows nervously when one of the children shifted, and sighed in relief when nothing else happened.
He removed his head from his hand and pulled out a piece of paper, lifting a quill. He prayed to gods he didn’t even like that none of the children would wake up while he was writing. Cale quickly checked over Raon, On, and Hong to make sure they were still asleep before he dipped the quill in ink and moved it across the paper.
When he felt the paper had enough words on it, he placed the quill back where it was and placed the letter where it could easily be seen, especially by those as observant as Choi Han or Raon. Cale stood from his desk chair, leaving it slightly askew in the process, and walked over to the bed, staring at the trio covered in the blanket wistfully.
Cale turned around and walked through the door, leaving the Black Castle to go sit at his grave to ponder. Somehow, he was already feeling attached to it.
–
When Raon woke up, the first thing he noticed was the blanket that covered himself, On, and Hong. There wasn’t anything particularly unusual about this, but as he took in the room, he was quick to notice the piece of paper on the desk that certainly wasn’t there before. Not to mention the chair that certainly wasn’t in that position before.
Yes, the blanket was not unusual. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to pass by and catch them sleeping, and cover them with the blanket. It was, however, uncommon for anything else in the room to move. Maybe this was in hopes of not disturbing the serenity of the room, only broken by the cracks trailing up and down the wall.
Careful not to disturb the siblings, he flew over to the desk, perching atop the chair. Raon, although a fast learner, was not the best reader. He could, however, recognize the weak (Dead? Raon tried not to think too hard about it. He liked to try and think Cale was just on a very long trip and wouldn’t be back for a while. He knew the truth. He didn’t want to accept it. Cale was Raon’s bright light in a world full of darkness, surely his absence was only temporary.) human’s handwriting from anywhere.
It didn’t make sense. It defied the laws of… Everything, really. But if it was the human, he’d probably find a way to contact them beyond the grave. (Raon, for a fleeting moment, recalled the touch he thought he’d felt as he slept. It felt just like the human’s touch, if not a slight bit colder. He thought it was his imagination. Maybe….?)
After all, Cale himself, even living, defied the laws of everything as well. What stopped him from doing the same even when dead? Raon lifted the multi-paged letter in his claws as gingerly as he could, needing to have physical contact with the one thing that made Raon sure that Cale was still around, and left the room to find Choi Han and Eruhaben.
Though, just in case, Raon stretched his consciousness out in search of that oh-so-familiar energy that his human had, hoping he could still communicate with him somehow in a form other than writing or light (yet cold, almost to the point of being uncomfortable) brushes on his head, yet was disappointed to find nothing of the sort.
The young dragon shook his head, staring at the letter in his claws and flying off. He shouldn’t have expected too much, anyway. This is enough.
–
Choi Han appeared as though he hadn’t even slept within the past few months. He, out of everyone, was one of the ones who took it the hardest. The swordmaster spent a great chunk of his time training, going far into the night. Raon was sure he didn’t look much better in dragon terms, of course, but looking tired as a dragon was a lot better than looking tired as a human, apparently. Eruhaben looked slightly better, if not older than before.
Raon slightly resented them. They had known about the human’s deal, and yet didn’t tell him until after Cale had… Well, no point in dwelling on it now. He wanted to try and understand his human’s decision, but couldn’t wrap his head around it regardless of how hard he tried.
He knew it wasn’t Choi Han or Eruhaben’s fault, but the young dragon couldn’t help himself. Sorrow is quite blinding, after all.
When Raon presented the letter to Choi Han and Eruhaben, he could tell that they didn’t know what to think. It changed when it came to the section written in… Korean, he remembered Cale calling it. Though, Eruhaben tended to call it the Ancient Language, or something along those lines.
Not many knew of it, but even fewer people knew how to write in it. Only those like Cale or Choi Han could write in it fluently, although they had been in the process of teaching Raon and King Alberu as well.
(Raon forgot that that human became a King– they weren’t very much in touch with the public anymore, aside from the monarch himself, as well as the Duke and Duchess Henituse. Basen and Lily, too, although Raon was more unfamiliar with Cale’s family.
The way the weak human- Cale, spoke about them, although it seemed the same as how he spoke about everyone, gave Raon the impression that he was very fond of the ones around him.
Raon knew when Cale didn’t like someone. He made it very clear. It was, however, harder to tell when he did like someone. But Raon knew.)
“Where did you get this?” A voice tore Raon out of his thoughts. Choi Han sounded hoarse, as though he had been in the desert for some time without water. It was almost grating to the dragon’s ears.
“It was on the human’s– Cale’s– desk,” Raon said, fiddling with his claws and looking anywhere but Choi Han and Eruhaben. “It wasn’t there when I fell asleep.”
The older dragon placed a hand on his chin, furrowing his eyebrows. “That insane bastard.” Eruhaben ignored the two sets of eyes glaring his way, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s haunting us.”
It made sense to Raon. It was absolutely something Cale would do. Choi Han was slower to come around, apparently.
“But how?” Choi Han asked. Raon could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as the man swallowed almost nervously. “You know that damned God took his afterlife as well. How could he possibly..?”
“Perhaps that God has no use for him right now.” Eruhaben offered. “Regardless, the fact remains that, somehow, against all odds, that bastard is still around.”
“But why did it take so long for him to contact us?” Raon asked, trying to read the contents of the letter over Eruhaben and Choi Han’s shoulders.
The golden dragon simply shook his head. “I don’t know, but maybe we can ask.” He began to smile. “After all, he’s not entirely gone.”
Cale crossed his arms, floating in the air behind Eruhaben. That sly old man. While Raon may not have been skilled enough in magic to notice his faint presence, Eruhaben was much older and therefore had much more experience in detection.
He grabbed Eruhaben’s wrist and gently pried the letter out of his hands, carefully ignoring the way it seemed to send shivers up the dragon’s spine. He would have to get used to it, after all, since Cale planned on sticking around quite stubbornly. Cale took the letter away, almost feeling the three pairs of eyes trailing after the floating letter. He needed a quill.
Choi Han was the first to follow him. Eruhaben and Raon weren’t far behind.
Scribbling a few words upon a new piece of paper, he shoved it in the swordmaster’s face as aggressively as a ghost could.
“Take care of yourself?” Choi Han read aloud. Cale glared daggers into the man, albeit knowing the other couldn’t feel or see it. Although, he did feel slightly bad at the downturned tone in Choi Han’s voice. He took the paper out of Choi Han’s (trembling? Choi Han doesnt tremble ) hands and scribbled a few more words onto it. He gave it back to him, although more gently.
Choi Han continued to read out loud. “I’m sorry, you were right about before.” His voice wavered this time. The paper was slightly crumpled in his hands as Choi Han slightly gripped it. “Why did it take you dying for you to realize that?”
Cale swallowed nervously. The swordmaster didn’t sound mad, just upset. The reality still hadn’t quite set in properly for the ghost. Ghost, he repeated in his head. It still doesn’t seem real. Cale hadn’t believed in ghosts before, but he supposed he had no choice now. It’d be strange not to believe in “me,” he snorted. He sighed, eyes softening.
It was upsetting to see Choi Han in this state. But I’d never change what I did, he thought resolutely. Even if it brings the Choi Han this much distress.
Although, of course, he did see the hypocrisy in his decision, and now understood why Choi Han made the choice that he did during the God of Despair’s test. He let out a breath– or as much of a breath as a ghost can let out– and crossed his arms. Though, it would have been better to realize that before anyone had to die.
While he understood it, he still resented it. Cale was sure Choi Han felt the same. He softly removed the paper from Choi Han’s trembling hands. The swordmaster was quick to let go. Cale placed the paper aside and held one of the other’s hands in both of his.
Choi Han’s hands were rough from work born from both desperation and anger. They had been like that since Cale had met him, but they were now littered with dry blood due to the man’s overwork. Even without being there, he could guess what Choi Han had been doing for the past few months.
(If Choi Han was powerful when he and Cale first met, Cale dreaded to see how powerful he was now. He was relieved they were on the same side. Woe to those on the receiving end of Choi Han’s wrath.)
When was the last time this man had a good night’s rest? A good meal? Cale furrowed his eyebrows in displeasure, suddenly feeling very irritated. Not necessarily at Choi Han or the dragons, but it was probably more accurate to say he was angry at the world.
He released Choi Han’s hand and turned to evaluate the two dragons. Eruhaben, most certainly, looked older. He had slight dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks were slightly hollowed. Had Raon lost weight? No, this simply wouldn’t do.
Cale shook his head. He realized with sudden clarity that he was not acting how he normally would, but at this point he didn’t care. Death does that to a guy, he supposed. He placed a cold hand atop Raon’s head, who leaned into the touch affectionately.
He had wanted to live out the rest of his days as a slacker, but that was no longer an option, of course. Cale considered the state of these three, he considered the kittens, he considered the rest of his companions (family, maybe) and realized it couldn’t possibly be an option.
Also, of course, there was the fact that he was dead, that was quite impossible to ignore. Cale looked at his translucent hands that, against all odds, could still feel, and realized there was stuff he could still do. He was limited with this form, but he wasn’t just stuck watching everyone he knew deteriorate.
Cale was never one for working. He hated it, truly, but perhaps for these people he could try to enjoy it. Clearly, they had neglected themselves for several months, and Cale would see an end to it as soon as he could. (It was, after all, partially his fault.)
Progress wouldn’t be linear. Cale didn’t expect it to be. But time heals all wounds, and he had that in abundance if little else.
He pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose. There goes my slacker afterlife, I suppose.