Chapter Text
Now what?
What a absolute mess.
Hollow's just minding his own business- nothing unusual there, but now we have a drunk bug and a half-existent Vessel.
Things are just getting better.
Well, Hornet's not gonna wake up anytime soon, and even if she was, i'd rather not be there... so, what to do?
Quirrel ponders.
I guess I could work on making a new mask for Ghost? Maybe there's something in the archives I've missed. maybe... I dunno, I guess I'll figure it out there. Can't hurt.
With a bag for carrying any extra documents, a nail, and some leftover jerky, Quirrel said his goodbyes to a still angry shade, entrusted a certain someone to Hollow, and set off by himself off to the Archives.
It was no biggie- a trip with the old stag and a short trip through the relatively peaceful fog canyon and there you are.
It was oddly quiet though- despite the fact that he had travelled all throughout Hallownest like this, the return of no one to walk with, no one to talk to, was all the more apparent.
It was unreal- when he had been exploring Hallownest, blithely and blissfully wandering about, it was so quiet, yet he had no qualms about it.
Now it put him on edge, that quietness.
Although maybe it truly was quieter than usual- the Infection's death lead to most of those walking corpses to finally rest in peace.
Quirrel pulled away some brush and walked a bit further to find the Archives.
After walking past where he and Ghost fought Uumuu with a sad smile and stroll through the offices and cubicles in the Archives, he notices one particularly messy cubicle.
Quirrel grimaced."Who would leave such a-" Quirrel, Teacher's Assistant, the plaque read. "Ah. Of course it's me."
If it's this messy, maybe, there's just a chance, there's some odd thing left behind that shouldn't've been.
That took fifteen minutes. Despite being so messy, it was really easy to sift through his desk. Probably muscle memory. Regardless, his search ended up empty handed. With a deep sigh, he moved on before coming to an imposing door.
"THE TEACHER'S OFFICE"
To the right was a display which could be switched from red to green, indicating whether the teacher was available.
It was red.
I don't think the Teacher is terribly busy this time of year, Quirrel snickers before quickly dying down. The teacher was still a touchy subject for him, it seemed.
"Sorry for the disturbance," Quirrel whispered as he entered the chambers.
The desk was nicely tidied up, but the massive amount of documents made it seem he had a long task ahead of him.
Quirrel sighed. Time to get to work.
After two hours, Quirrel triumphantly raises up two letters between Monomon and another mysterious sender.
"I know you don't want any more involvement in this project, ███████████. My intention was never to do this; this was all at the King's discretion. The least I can do is provide compensation, so we will be offering you 37,622 Geo for your expenses and another 250,000 Geo for your contribution. -Monomon"
"Alright listen, I get that you feel bad, but frankly, sod off. I have some morals to uphold, you know. The only reason I 'participated' in this project was because the wankers in the palace said to do so or my head will be chopped off, so take back your stupid 287,622 Geo. Knowing that I designed and built the faces of countless kids sentenced to their deaths in my home is bad enough, alright? The only thing I ask for on your end, and please don't screw this up, though I know you will, is to remove every last mention of me or potential mention of me- I don't care where it is, documentation or letters, redact it all. I don't want a single soul to know I worked on this foolish project."
That explains the redaction in the first letter.
It also seemed like he wasn't the only poor soul who worked on the Vessel project and vehemently refused to do it, only to be held at nail-point.
Taped to the letter was a crumpled ball of paper, seemingly untouched.
Uncrumpling it, it revealed it was a cheque, unsurprisingly for 287,622 Geo. The name, Eugene Webb, had not beed redacted, and neither the address. It had been addressed to some place in the City of Tears.
Quirrel laughed.
Someone failed their job. The second letter jinxed it, it seems.
Not like Quirrel had any experience with jinxing, mind you.
(Internally, Quirrel hopes it wasn't him who redacted it.)
Well, thank god someone failed their job either way, Quirrel happily joked as he headed for the exit, Else I wouldn't have a clue on how to find this mysterious person!
With that, Quirrel closed the door behind him for the City of Tears.