Archive of Our Own

It had been a difficult life for Espresso. 

He had lofty goals for one born to watch the upper cities from where he was cast in the mud. He had been but an engineer in the many factories lining the dark shores of the Republic’s lower class populace where the smog was thick and illness pervaded the tired and hungry folk. He recalled spending days exhausted yet continuing to slave away while he studied and read with what books he could afford at night. 

Those days were long past. 

Despite having ample food stocked in his pantry and fridge these days, Espresso hardly minded the clawing ache underneath his ribs, the growls and pangs of hunger simply a part of his being after spending most of his formative years aching and crying for a full belly that never came.

Instead, he doused it with coffee after he soon learned no help would come and if he wanted to survive, he’d have to make a name for himself.

Espresso, now a renowned researcher, inventor, and innovator, looked about him, a strange nostalgia falling over his being at what he had been able to accomplish.

A home, a lab, all of his own. Books and manuscripts covering his work desk, a small library in the next room documenting the lessons and lives of professors and inventors he’d been able to learn from and study in university, 

All after clawing his way out of the mud through sheer effort…

…and admittedly, with a bit of luck as well.

It wasn’t often that fortune smiled upon him—or the damned Divines, as the uppercrust of Republic would harken. But Espresso admitted, as he packed his belongings and his newest formulations to the Institute of Thaumaturgy, that he had indeed been dealt a kind hand by fate. As Espresso walked down the clean, stone streets of the Republic’s upper city, he understood that the path he treaded had not only been paved with his own blood, sweat, tears, and coffee—

But an enigmatic faith that one had bestowed upon him.

Some years ago, an anonymous donor had caught wind of his talents and a staggering sum had been sent to him in the form of a cheque one day, out of the clear blue sky. It was the day that changed Espresso’s life.

University fees covered by the amount on top of his scholarships made it possible to attend and afford his books, board, and meals. The comforts allowed him to readily accept an accelerated program in which he graduated with honors, then pursuing doctoral degrees and making a name for himself as a pioneer in his field. 

This donor soon became a regular patron and commissioner as he continued with his research and studies. Even through the immense impact this individual or House or company had invested in his work and talents,

Espresso has still not met them face-to-face.

He approached the massive mouth of the towering Institute with his head held high, with the confidence and assurance that he had earned this right. He greeted scientists and lab assistants that either nodded to him in quick acquaintance or stopped by to say hello, eyes upon him as mentor, master, and equal.

“Professor—were you able to find it?”

Espresso nodded as he set his briefcase down, procuring the notes he’d revisited from his earlier days of research in Parfaedia when he’d began divulging into the roots of niche magic subsects when establishing coffee magic—

An interesting and interrupted study of soul magic and the components of mortal life that was quickly scrapped and scrubbed from various journals until it found its home in the forbidden archives.

Naturally, Espresso found it and took notes out of mere curiosity.

He never expected for such strange and archaic works to find its way to his work now. Now, when he’s bestowed with such an important and…seemingly impossible task.

“Bring out the Soul Jam,” he instructed as he began brewing himself a pot of coffee. “I think I’ve got it this time.”

News of the Professor’s success spread like wildfire.

When the sugar-coated vessel combined with elements of the Ancient’s power, the resulting blaring and brimming energy in resonance with his own soul, Espresso knew he had done it. What seemed like dozens of staff and personnel flooded into the room at the sound of the cataclysmic clash and the shatter of glass and metal upon the reaction.

Even Espresso’s own ears were ringing, but when he regained himself, he was met with a sea of applause at what he’d accomplished.

Adrenaline was still rushing through him, even as he set foot in his home and hung his coat. He absently flipped through the letters deposited through the mail slot as he ticked down the next steps as to what to make of his new discovery and how to present it to the Elders for tomorrow. 

It was no surprise that Espresso had been invited to meet with the Elders at the unveiling of his creation, of course alongside the consul and the paladin knight that accompanied him on his travels to retrieve the Soul Jam for Espresso’s testing.

The consul had reached him and reported that the Elders were informed of his successful efforts, planning to convene the very next day after the scientist finished the exhaustive testing to ensure that the material was stable and nonvolatile. Espresso attempted to maintain an air of professionalism and stoicism to the news, but even he couldn’t help but behold the creation with awe and a bit of trepidation.

Magic Candy.

The creation could revolutionize the entire Republic army. Could revolutionize the Republic against the dire threats looming over the horizon.

But it appeared that the day would continue its surprises. Espresso’s interest was piqued by the appearance of another letter, stamped with a familiar seal, slotting through his front door with the afternoon couriers:

His patron.

He strode over to the entryway, plucking the letter from the pile of advertisements and rent notices (his rent had been pre-paid for over a year, thanks to his generous donor).

He carefully sliced the envelope open, preserving the seal depicting a Jelly Lion with a sunburst mane. The short letter contained an elegant script denoting congratulations on his accomplishments. This…was not entirely surprising; this entity was keen on keeping up with Espresso’s accomplishments, whether to encourage him, let him remember quite well that he is being watched, or to oversee the marks of progress in their little…investment upon the mud-borne genius. But as Espresso’s sharp eyes scanned the rest of the contents, he was startled to find that his patron was keen to meet him at the very same event.

How…fortuitous indeed.

Perhaps they wanted to reveal themselves as the saints that nurtured this poor, destitute creature from the mud and raised them to become a hero of the Republic.

Or perhaps they came for another cause altogether.

This had not been the first time the Elders convened before him.

In the beginning, he had been but another pawn in their plight for power once the Soul Jam had been acquired, the selection curated by his repertoire and…Mulled Juice’s own apparent disinterest in magics of old.

Still, Espresso bore through the falsities and decorum as he was hailed and heralded a hero for his work. He attempted to tamp down his impatience to get to the meat of the matter. His priorities were summarized in 2 parts:

Their intent with the Magic Candy he’d created.

The meeting with his anonymous donor.

Thankfully, the latter did not take long to answer years-long questioning after celebrations began trumpeting through the halls.

Espresso always knew their identity would be one to surprise him. At many times throughout his studies and research, he looked upon the different Houses taking an interest in science, magic, and academia, compiling a list of the most probable families to donate to his cause. Undoubtedly a family of noble lineage, perhaps even an Elder. Mulled Juice, a fellow inventor and the name that rings synonymous with genius had been at the top of his list.

Instead...

It was the knight commander that he met at the end of his presentation,

A mane of golden hair, proud and tall stance, gleaming armor as people began to whisper among themselves. The knight held about an air of austerity, yet paradoxically...comfort and warmth,

As Grand Madeleine regarded Espresso with a hint of pride.

"You've done well."

Espresso swallowed, meeting with his generous donor at last after all these years. It had been a difficult road for him. He knew that without the monthly donations keeping him afloat during his studies in Parfaedia and eventually saving up enough to purchase his own space and form his own lab and create his own equipment. He was no fool, he knew  wouldn't have been able to perform half the feats he was able to accomplish in this lifetime had it not been for her patronage. 

It was her faith in his abilities, placed upon his own work-worn hands, that he’d been able to flourish.

Espresso bowed, feeling a bit foolish as he stumbled with his words after the culmination of years of support and faith from this one person. "I...try not to disappoint," he started (and ended) lamely.

But Grand Madeleine gave an unexpected jovial laugh and Espresso found his burdens easing. This was among his greatest accomplishments, after all. This was a time for celebration.

Towards the end of the night, Grand Madeleine extended an invitation to him, a meeting at her manor at the end of the week. An extended congratulation to all he's accomplished...

And a commission, offering a hefty sum.

Espresso was hardly surprised.

He’d been commissioned, here and there. Simple machineries that left manual labor obsolete; the chemical compounds of medicines and poisons alike. Had this been an ideal world, Espresso would have preferred to accept professorship in Parfaedia full-time, but as it were, he knew the monetary support given to him was...an investment of sorts.

But as to what, he was unsure.

Curiosity gnawing at him, Espresso accepted the furtive invitation, suspicion arising within him as Grand Madeleine felt the need to draw him away from conversation with the consul and the head of House Custard for this request.

Grand Madeleine was a private noblewoman, rarely venturing out of her manor when outside of training and the Paladin Academy. She was a celebrated figure in Republic history and were Espresso a man of duller intellect, he may have surmised that she approached him to craft a Magic Candy befitting the knight commander.

But Espresso has always been clever.

“Will you meet me then?” Grand Madeleine asked, her tone denoting that she would not accept his refusal.

Not that Espresso had any intention to. “But of course. It…would be a great honor.”

Espresso had always been far more curious than he was clever.

The manor was gloomy when he entered, perhaps a reflection of the rain and wind from outside. Espresso took a moment to gaze upon the long, winding road that led to the maw of this staggering monument of excess and legacy.

The greenery had faded with summer’s end, now crowned in golds and auburns as it sprawled across the massive estate, almost creeping towards the manor itself. The hanging lights swung heavily against the billowing winds as Espresso raised the embellished knocker, ornately formed to the likeness of a Jelly Lion to rap against the dark, heavy wood.

A servant welcomed him inside with a gracious bow and ushered Espresso inside, right before a flash of lightning crackled across the graying skies.

“The Madame has been expecting you.” And that had been the extent of the greeting.

Espresso found the massive manor echoing with every step he took. An emptiness rattled throughout the bones of the structure as the newcomer (intruder) wandered further inside. Flashes of light briefly illuminated empty halls while grand portraits hung of what Espresso could only assume were ancestors of this noble line.

They all bore the Madeleine House likeness, likely direct descendants from the Vanillian families and establishing themselves as a prominent line from when the Republic had been born from the great disaster that befell their ancestral home. Espresso lingered to observe the portraits, slowing his steps while the butler carried forth with his own pace. Espresso admittedly knew little of militant history, but he was as aware as the rest of the Republic of prominent generals and soldiers, of which the Madeleine House produced several. Fierce warriors and devout worshippers of the Divines, utilizing light magic (Espresso attempted to conceal his distaste) to aid them in battle. Towards the end of the hall, leading to the main dining room, the line, the legacy, seemed to creep to a halt before the shell-molded archway. Grand Madeleine’s own regal portrait had only been the penultimate.

The final was a depiction of a young man, of whom Espresso had never seen.

Espresso paused, even as the head butler alerted the murmuring voices in the next room of his arrival. The Professor stood, transfixed upon the too-vibrant eyes of blues of those painted eyes. He felt a sliver of unease as they seemed to follow his form as he skittered off, following in close steps to the silent butler.

Casted by the bright lights of chandeliers and a warm crackling fire from a massive hearth, a feast laid before him as he entered the dining room. The tantalizing aroma beckoned him forward while three identical ladies greeted him in near-unison with their vibrant and off-putting smiles.

The three sisters, Espresso immediately thought.

The three fates , came into his mind instead as they flitted around him, ushering him to a seat and generously piled his plate with all sorts of tempting treats and thick cuts of savory meats.

“Oh, you must be that genius inventor our sister had her eye on for so long!”

“We’ve heard you accomplished many great feats!”

“Yes, you’re far more successful than the others, we’ve always rooted for you most, you know— !”

“Oh hush, you! P-pay her no mind, dear!”

“Yes, we’re here to celebrate your achievements, after all!”

Espresso felt as helpless as a puppet on a string with how he was tugged into one conversation after another, barely affording the time to think with their prattling. He found it far easier to fill his mouth with food and nod along with their banter.

Even as the sister tried, one thing was certain:

Espresso had not been the only one.

His sense of unease made it difficult to swallow, no matter how delicious the food. Espresso vaguely wondered if he were the first of the geniuses invited to the manor,

Or if he were simply the latest.

But even amongst the chatter that incessantly filled the large room, Espresso could feel eyes upon him, idly observing, a looming presence.

He looked to the opposing archway and found Grand Madeleine, dressed extravagantly for the occasion. Gone is her gleaming armor, and in its place, a long, flowing dress of glittering dark blues, almost mimicking the night sky. Even her severe disposition seemed to melt to one of reserved glee.

Espresso scrambled to stand but was ushered back down with but a single hand Grand Madeleine raised as their eyes met.

Pleasantries were exchanged, at which Grand Madeleine spoke of Espresso's feats and accomplishments, his crowning glory being his tremendous breakthrough with the creation of Magic Candy, to which Espresso couldn't help but pinken in equal parts pride and discomfort as the sisters cooed and gasped in awe.

“Yes, he’s the one.”

“I can feel it too.”

“He really will do it, won’t he?”

The knots in his stomach began to tighten.

“Well, that’s if big sister can get him to agree—"

“I think that’s enough.”

Espresso dared not breathe as the middle sister, appearing thoroughly chastised, glibly sipped on her cup of tea. But Grand Madeleine merely resumed her collected façade.

“We wouldn’t want to overwhelm our guest.” Grand Madeleine smiled. “This is a celebration, after all.”

Espresso nodded.

And a transaction.

The night continued with its strange sort of merriment, the three sisters trading stories and jokes while refilling his drink and his plate until Espresso politely pushed both away. They asked (interrogated) Espresso of his personal life (he has none), of his family (he has none, bar a distant cousin he met in university), and loved ones

(he...has none)

Espresso was well aware of himself. There were no tears to be shed at this conversation. It was no revelation. All of his efforts, his time, his energy, his life—

Dedicated to his work, his research, his inventions. Espresso held no regrets. He would have it no other way, despite how some may react to the facts.

And yet...Grand Madeleine smiled. As if his answer to a non-existence barring his work pleased her.

It made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end, tightening his grip on the fork and knife in his hand. The three sisters seemed to prey on that response, citing that he must be so lonely!

“Don't worry, dear!”

“You're very much a welcome guest in our family!”

“Yes, perhaps just what this family needs!”

"Grand Madeleine...” Espresso started, pushing his chair from the dinner table. He looked to her with quietly pleading eyes. “If I may…I believe we have a...commission to discuss."

Grand Madeleine shook her head, giving a chiding tut. "No business at the table, now," she scolded lightly. "Though, perhaps the hour is growing late. We have...much to discuss, after all."

Espresso sighed in relief, setting down the ornate dinnerware and removing the cloth napkin from his lap, hoping to depart and think over whatever proposal Grand Madeleine offered him in the comfort of his own home far, far away from this manor.

And while those plans were all well and good, even the best laid plans oft go awry: the winds howled viciously and the rain poured down in heavy torrents outside like a rain of enemy fire. A thunderous crash reverberated through the sky followed by a blinding flash of lightning as the entire home went dark save for candlelight for but a moment. Espresso internally cursed, knowing he would be trapped here for the night.

“Sister, maybe you should go check on the—you know, because of the shortage?”

Grand Madeleine looked to her, then to Espresso, and nodded. “I will, don’t fret.” 

Grand Madeleine made the motion to stand and Espresso followed suit. He turned, bidding the three sisters adieu as a servant informed him that they would ready a room for his lodging upstairs.

"I will guide him to his rooms,,” Grand Madeleine intoned. “Thank you for your services, you are dismissed for the evening."

The servant looked to Espresso with a flicker of...concern before bowing deeply and bidding his Madame a good night.

Grand Madeleine regarded the furtive exchange impassively, only turning to Espresso with a secretive smile of her own as she turned to a dimly lit hall that Espresso had passed over at first glance. “Very well now…shall we?”

Espresso felt his legs grow heavier with trepidation each step he took farther and farther away from the lights and strange merriment of the divine feast laid in the dining room, as he and the lady of the manor snaked their way down the skeletal corridors, narrow, bare of ornament and life within the depths of the House Madeleine.

Espresso had surmised that they would meet within a sitting room or perhaps Grand Madeleine's study to elaborate on the details of her covert commission,

But as Grand Madeleine hefted a torch from a statue adorned in paladin armor standing guard before a large stone door, Espresso found the chances of a normal commission dwindling to the single digits. She struck a match and at once, the corridor was awash with fiery light as she opened the passage before them and Espresso felt his heart sink to the bottom of his boots at the gaping darkness that lurked on the other side.

Stone steps were illuminated by the burning beacon as they descended down into the abyss. Espresso was never one to blindly follow suit if he had the choice—always questioning what was before him, breaking the outer shell open and examining its contents before he made sense of it in his own way. Observe, break down, analyze, create. Unfortunately for Espresso, so much of the night had transpired so strangely that it seemed like his thoughts, perpetually racing in equations and formulations, had been trapped at the observation phase as they descended further and further. 

The air about them was beginning to plummet to frigid temperatures the deeper they dove; Espresso shivered, breaths coming out in short huffs of willowy smoke from his mouth, guided by the silent lady and crackling firelight as they and the situation, spiraled downwards.

Several minutes of silence passed when Grand Madeleine finally spoke, breaking Espresso free of his death-spiraling thoughts.

"There is no need to fear," she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "The path towards our destination is arduous, but then again...so is life."

Espresso found that he’d just had about enough of this enigmatic journey. "Why am I being led here?" After all, it was just a straight path back to where he started, right?  

Grand Madeleine huffed out a laugh. "So that you may understand what exactly it is I am asking of you."

They reached the end of the steps, another set of doors standing before them. The metallic sheen exuded a strange reflection from the fire, distorting shadowy reflections of Espresso’s own paling face beside Grand Madeleine’s impassive expression. It held no knob, no handles, no mechanism to enter.  

Instead, Espresso had to shield his eyes from the blinding brightness as Grand Madeleine extinguished the torch and pushed the doors open.

As Espresso blinked his vision back to operating conditions, he was…still unsure what it was that stood before him. The structure was so strange, so… alien, that he had difficulty taking it all in at once: a mass of machines, a snarling web and vines of wires and tubes, the incessant beeps, the ticks and pumps and breaths of various contraptions—

And connected to all, at the very heart of it—

The very thing intertwined to these instruments—

Espresso felt immediately ill. His legs felt wooden, though everything in him screamed to run,

run as fast as you can,

as far as you can—

Grand Madeleine approached the prone figure in the bed, petting the dull gold of its hair and brushing it out of its face.

Espresso regarded the scene with a mixture of horror and pity as tubes pumped air in inhales and exhales, inflating and deflating its chest rhythmically. It was pale, thin, a continuous solution being fed through smaller tubes inserting into its veins.

The young man in the portrait.

The former knight commander,

Or…what was left of him.

"My son..." Grand Madeleine murmured, pressing a kiss to its cheek. "We have a visitor for you."

Grand Madeleine was regarded as a brilliant and beloved figure of the Republic. Her achievements in knighthood were greatly revered by the entirety of the nation. It was due to this adoration, this appreciation of her status, that out of respect, the events that befell her beloved son were kept strictly out of public and polite conversation.

Espresso had only distantly heard of an accident…an incident , leaving the youngest knight commander unable to pursue his duties, leaving the prior personnel to take on the mantle once more. 

Many assumed that he’d been permanently injured and since disgracing their family name, has opted to remain out of public eye for the rest of his years. 

Instead, the noble lady donned her armor in her son's place, moving forward with a steadfastness befitting the retired knight commander while she left to grieve as a mother behind closed doors. 

Elders Mulled Juice and Baumkuchen did all they could, operating covertly per the noble lady’s request, repairing his body and keeping it healthy, but still,

He could not wake.

"His soul has left its vessel, good mother. Let him rest."

...she could not accept that as her Madeleine's fate.

She turned to newer talents, scouting them from all walks of life, from all over the land, each lending a piece to sustain her son’s body, but none to retrieve that which was thought to be forever lost to them,

Until now. 

She turned to Espresso, eyes wild with agony. "You, my dearest genius . My light, my hope—" The agony of a doomed desire. 

Espresso could only shake his head, his own eyes wide and terrified as Grand Madeleine grabbed for him with both hands, shaking with tears streaming down her face.

"You've found a way to incorporate one's soul into a tiny vessel— to use it as a source of power—"

Espresso sputtered, knowing now that Grand Madeleine was drawing all the wrong conclusions of his work. “This method cannot revive the dead!" Espresso had only been able to utilize what was a part of his soul into the conductive magic amplifier and battery! What Grand Madeleine sought…was pure heresy! Utterly forbidden, defying all laws of nature! 

“Are you so sure?! Is your specialty not novel invention, to push the boundaries of the realm of possibility?!”

Espresso wanted to tear out his hair— that had only been a part of his speech at the convocation! "This—this is madness! ” 

"Then let it be madness!"

Espresso trembled, barely able to keep himself standing as Grand Madeleine enveloped him into a suffocating embrace.

“And then think of another method.” Espresso could barely look at her as the proud, esteemed knight crumbled in heartsickness and despair. “ As long as it is possible. Please. Please . Bring back my boy."

There was an incessant ringing in his ears the moment he entered the cold, sterile room. It worsened, growing louder and louder as the lights seemed to blaze overhead, the room spinning as Grand Madeleine's voice echoed her pleas. The words jumbled in his head, not making an iota of sound sense whether he registered the words or not. All Espresso could do was watch as the machines continued to whir, continued to pump air and fluid into the unmoving body, Espresso's eyes boring into the still hand atop the bed sheets.

In and out, in and out. 

Espresso found vision growing black at the edges of the stark white of the room.

He’s going to be sick. He's going to vomit. He's going to—

But his eyes remain on the Grand Madeleine's son,

Or what was left of him. 

And maybe it was a trick of the light or a vagal-induced hallucination as Espresso’s head grew light and the ringing in his ears became too loud to bear. 

But he swore he saw those pale, thin fingers move.

Espresso startled, awakened by the brush of morning light sweeping across his face.

He had jolted up from the bed, the sea of silken sheets and the cloud of pillows he’d rested his head upon toppling to the floor from his actions. His heart thudded within the cage of his ribs, echoes and flashes cycling through his mind so vividly as the weight of his decision crumpled his exhausted thoughts.

He can’t.

He absolutely refuses to.

Espresso surveyed the room he had been deposited in. The clam-shell motifs decorated the large suite in the molding of archways and light fixtures, the royal blue of the Madeleine House accenting the creams and golds denoting the famous noble family line. 

But imperfections began seeping through. Cracks had begun to form on the edges of the doorways, a light fixture here and there missing a bulb. The room, though decorated in design, was largely empty. 

His own cloak was hanging upon a coat rack by the door and his shoes deposited beneath. Espresso shuddered to think a noble lady such as Grand Madeleine lugging him up all those stairs after fainting in the…medical chamber only to properly dress him for bed.

Espresso surmised with distaste that his own body must have succumbed to the horrors he had just witnessed. If such were the case, then does that not already give him his answer?

It wasn’t even a matter of should he— though that’s certainly taken into consideration—it’s simply that it wasn’t possible.

Elder Baumkuchen, with his medical knowledge, must have performed all the necessary and available testing to truly gauge if the…Madame’s son was viable, if his condition were compatible with life outside the support of those machines.

Surely not, if Grand Madeleine resorted to seeking his sudden expertise in the area of souls. His answer was certain.

The Madeleine House heir would not and cannot come back. To give Grand Madeleine even a shred of hope was cruel in of itself. To play God was not anything Espresso ever hoped to do.  

But then came the…unpleasant aspect.

Grand Madeleine had obviously chosen him out of several others to meet her expectations. She had not gone out and publicly sought experts in this limited field for a reason:

None had ever been successful, and if they had been,

None ever wanted to be found.

Espresso sighed. This was all happenstance, in the end. The Expedition the consul underwent, the declaration that Espresso would be the one to head the project, his success in utilizing Magic Candy—

(But was it really? Or was this all part of an elaborate orchestration of the Madame’s? Had she utilized her position to utter his name as a contender against dozens of other scientists in the Republic to lead this subject? Had she puppeteered every opportunity that Espresso “earned,” whispered his name to awards and areas of recognition—)

All Espresso worked towards lead him to this enigmatic expectation. This impossible, improbable expectation.

And if Espresso agreed to attempting, what was Espresso to do then when he inevitably failed? Would the monthly donations stop? He may have to move to Parfaedia if that were the case with the loss of his steady income—but what of his lab? His equipment? He doubted a researcher’s stipend would be enough for housing in both locations, let alone the maintenance of a research laboratory of the size he required given his niche work. 

Would his name be tarnished? Would his life’s work—ridiculed and forgotten in the name of a powerful woman in a powerful lineage, whose gracious hands giveth then taketh away?

And suddenly, Espresso was met with the very real possibility that he might simply not even have a say in the matter.

“I want to see him.”

Grand Madeleine glanced up from her morning tea. She barely had a nibble of the oven-warm pastry sitting on her plate before her guest’s impromptu arrival. “Well! I’m glad to see you awake and well.”

Espresso straightened his tie, giving a hard swallow as he silently apologized for whichever ancestors he was about to disappoint with his heinous actions. “If…I am to make a final decision on your commission, I would like to…examine what I am working with.”

Grand Madeleine nodded. “The medical reports and the schemas for the various machines are kept downstairs. But are you sure you wouldn’t want to sit for a spell? Have a proper meal, at the very least.”

Espresso felt his stomach curdle at the thought of the emaciated body kept downstairs, fed with fluids and inflated with air to mask the imitation of life.

“I’ll be fine.”

Entering the sterile-white room again, Espresso was clearly not fine, but he had resigned himself to at least showing the Madame that he had seriously considered her commission given the scientific evidence he had.

He approached the… body, tentatively. He brought a small light source with him as he began his examination, shining the beam as he reluctantly pulled back the pale eyelids. 

Pupillary reflexes were nonexistent.

No corneal reflex was observed.

Espresso sighed. “Is…it at all possible to withdraw the breathing apparatus for a brief moment—”

“No.”

Espresso nodded, feeling briefly relieved.

Grand Madeleine stood by him, a protective figure to the one most precious to her, eyes upon Espresso every moment of his evaluation as he tested reflex upon reflex. “My son’s condition is severe, I know this. I wouldn’t be seeking your kind of help if I could help it, you understand.”

Espresso nodded.

He flipped through the files Elder Baumkuchen had written of “Madeleine’s” condition. Coma, brainstem areflexia, apnea.

Grand Madeleine was not looking for a second opinion,

She was looking for a miracle.

But what she had was Espresso.  

The Professor looked to the body. The ghastly pallor on his skin, the gaunt, emaciated face and thin arms dressed in an off-putting white gown. Still, his hair was perfectly brushed and combed. A…mother’s loving touch, adding life to the overall desolate picture.

He felt a pang of pity, something the lady of the house latched on to immediately, sinking her claws and refusing to loosen her hold. 

“I know he’s not in there.” Grand Madeleine gingerly placed a hand upon Espresso’s shoulder. “My Madeleine would be awfully bored, waiting to awaken.”

Espresso continued to watch, counting the breaths given by the machine and the rise and fall of…Madeleine’s chest. No spontaneous breaths, every inhale and exhale initiated and terminated by the machine of Mulled Juice’s own design.

Likely the same rhythm that Grand Madeleine had watched for years now, waiting, praying for a miracle, for something to happen. 

Anything. 

“And how do you suppose I find him?” Espresso murmured.

A miracle that Espresso was entirely doubtful he could deliver. Grand Madeleine huffed out a derisive laugh. “My dear, that’s what I’m paying you for.”

Just as all of Espresso’s projects, the commission consumed him.

He rarely spent time in the medical room. The…subject’s body was intact, physically in terms of his cardiopulmonary system. What Espresso instead delved upon was extrapolating his work with Magic Candy the transfer and amplification of magical energy…to a larger vessel. A…larger, fleshier vessel.

Espresso was only able to craft the Magic Candy in resonance to his soul, something that was able to be formed through the concentration of his very being, the very essence of himself compactly compartmentalized to a form of sugar-coated power.

Grand Madeleine took that to mean that Espresso must then have to find what resonated with Madeleine.

He was startled to find a stack of photo albums the next day, sitting for him in his workspace nested within the Madeleine House library. Day in and day out, Espresso would be combing through formulas and extrapolating what he could to recreate that resonance. Even private belongings that Grand Madeleine never had the heart to open such as her dearest son’s diary were now privy to a stranger looking to lure and capture his wayward soul.

A proud son, a natural genius of the sword, a gifted light-magic user. Top of his class without any effort whatsoever and the childish arrogance of one befitting his station. The son of a loving and supportive family. He wanted for nothing. Espresso sighed and mused that had they met, their personalities would have clashed immediately.

Death, Espresso thought, has no eyes. It picks with a dizzy finger, choosing who it takes without rhyme or reason.

He only hoped his sincere attempts would grant Grand Madeleine and her family the closure they needed. 

After a month, Espresso gave his first attempt.

There was a crash of lights and the alarm of machines before black smoke billowed through the stark white of the room.

Unbothered by the chaos and commotion, Madeleine continued his slumber.

Espresso was not successful in his second attempt. Nor his third.

His fourth and fifth attempt garnered him some data to make further adjustments to his calculations, but beyond that, Espresso began to truly understand the monumental task before him.

He’d always known that he’d be ultimately unsuccessful, but Grand Madeleine, to Espresso’s awe, remained undeterred.

At one point, after several months of Espresso dedicating his free time and off days from his typical research, Espresso dared to ask her how she could still stay so unaffected with each monumental failure.

“Because you haven’t stopped trying,” she simply said.

Espresso began to spend more time in the medical room.

Grand Madeleine left without a word after observing the scientist for a few moments.

Espresso surmised it was due to the late hour and the monitors with all sorts of alarms and cacophonies that would sure to bring the entire household running if Espresso managed to short-circuit every machine again.

Espresso…toyed with the idea of perhaps instead of utilizing the linked items and the familiar vessel as a beacon for the soul to return…

If instead, he could create one from scratch, using the resonant materials and memories Madeleine left behind.

He blinked, reflexively shoving his notes away and sending them flying. Madeleine remained undisturbed, despite Espresso quietly apologizing for the sudden ruckus, and suddenly, Express felt exhaustion weighing heavily on his bones. 

These were dangerous thoughts and Espresso knew better than to act on them.

Still, that didn’t little to stop Espresso from pondering and wondering and dreaming and remembering, of thinking and thinking and thinking ,

Of the study of soul magic and why it was kept in the Forbidden Archives and what its author had done that was so catastrophic that White Lily never published another article again…

(he picked it up from his home before heading to House Madeleine the next day)

Espresso wasn’t expecting much.

He gave full-effort and half-hearted attempts with each trial. He supposed he owed Grand Madeleine this.

He explained this new procedure, the gist of the differences in modality, and outlined the expectation, specifically in the caveat that—

If this worked,

And that’s a boldly generous ‘If,’

This Madeleine may not be the one she lost.

Grand Madeleine continued to surprise him by accepting his terms readily, only citing that “I only wish for my son to return home, and I will have that by any means necessary.”

Espresso hadn’t asked her if she meant that she would love any ghost that were to inhabit that shell, as long as she had the semblance of a living, breathing boy to love.

He hadn’t asked because he’d been too confident that this method, just as all his others, just as this miracle he’d been tasked to perform, had been doomed from the start.

He was wrong.

He was terribly, terribly wrong.

Espresso knew it the moment a different, foreign energy began to thrum and pulse with growing intensity. Belatedly, Espresso recognized it as traces of light magic, echoing through the center of the vessel, the essence of the lost Madeleine’s hopes, dreams, talents, faults, secrets, sins—

Espresso was barely able to stagger back as the body began to convulse, the electric crackle of the monitors blaring as heart rate and blood pressure spiked, the reflexive twitches Espresso observed now and then now full movements and actions, hands grasping and pulling off the tube, the IVs, a coarse and guttural groaning of discomfort from the chest heaving heavily, out of synch with the machinated pumps.

Espresso distantly heard Grand Madeleine and the three sisters bursting through the doors, gasps and shrieks abound as they move past a stunned and shocked Espresso, sitting the coughing, shuddering Madeleine upright.

Sound began to fall away to an incessant ringing in Espresso’s ears as a sister began to wail as Madeleine self-extubated, hacking, choking, crying out in pain and distress.

Espresso watched blankly as the three sisters held on to him with Grand Madeleine whispering, praying, exalting his name while damning the Divines for her boy’s return.

And all at once, the realization washes over Espresso like the tide, the ice-cold waters threatening to pull him under.

He—

He just—

N-No, no, this can’t—

This can’t be happening—!

Espresso staggers to his feet, horror sinking so deep into his bones, distraught and disgusted. He looked to the scattering of notes, the runes he’d written, the creature he’d crafted into existence. Bitter bile rose from the back of his throat and the room was suddenly spinning, the tips of his fingers and the apples of his cheeks turning cold despite the burning, buzzing, pins-and-needles sensation that spread throughout his body, sound and sight falling away as the incessant ringing overtook the loud sobbing within in the room.

Run,

Espresso wanted to let out a cry of despair. A wail of horror. 

run as fast as you can,

as far as you can—

Slowly, groggily, the subject, the body , Madeleine , blinked to consciousness, and underneath those bright, sterile lights, their eyes met,

Too-vibrant eyes of blue, gazing up at Espresso with confusion, with wonder, as Grand Madeleine sank to her knees in agonized relief and merciless joy.

What have you done—

Not a single thought existed for Espresso at that moment, not a single second embedded to memory, only of the fact that Espresso had somehow uprooted himself from that room, ran up the stairs, out the door, out of the gates.

All Espresso remembers of that night, years ago, was that he left the Republic on the first available train that hour, with nothing but a few changes of clothes, whatever manuscripts and notes he could grab from his desk, and a haunting, gnawing sense of dread.

He doesn’t remember burning his data, every formulation and piece of his research over those past few months, doesn’t remember receiving phone calls and tossing the phone out the window after it kept ringing again and again and again—

But when the train approached the last stop, hours from the Republic within a sleepy village at the outskirts of civilization, Espresso finally collapsed, crumpling and crumbling, feeling hollowed out until there was nothing left.

He spent the next few weeks traveling, putting more and more distance between himself and the Republic. Espresso wondered some days if the distance was enough, if this was far enough to where his guilt couldn’t catch up to him. 

But during the nights, when Espresso allowed himself to finally sleep, hoping the dreams would wash away his memory, his sins, the horrors of what he’d done. 

Espresso lived like a man on the run, never staying in one place for long; he was never a social man, never grew attachments, so it was easy for him to slip away before he was lured by familiarity to stay.

But no one came after him,

No one dropped from the bright blue sky to drag him back to the Republic to face the monstrosity he's made—

—or worse,

Drag him back to the Republic to do it all over again.

An army of them. Of abominations brought back from the grave from his own design, Of creatures masquerading as men, called forth from a plane of existence that should have never been bridged from this world to the next. 

When Espresso finally arrived to the shining shores in a budding kingdom, days, months from the Republic and the memories that plagued him,

Espresso tentatively began building anew. 

His talents lead him to keep moving.

Perhaps that had been his mistake.

From the Kingdom where he began to study and create, he settled in the remaining and rebuilding Vanilla Kingdom, to continue his research and pick up where he left off after spending nearly a year focused on survival alone.

Inevitably, he even continued his studies with Magic Candy, though attempting it covertly as possible. Even after all this time, the paranoia still gnawed at the back of his mind, a constant ringing in his ear that he can only find distraction from, rather than reprieve. He was also…more cautious about which individuals to create Magic Candy for.

Souls were not to be tampered with, after all.

But as Fate (or the hands of the Divines) would have it, his peace ended when a knight in golden, gleaming armor with a billowing cape of Royal Blue came to the land, greeting the curious denizens with a booming, proud voice.

Espresso, on happenstance, had just exited the Crow’s Nest Inn for his regular morning cup and caught sight of the familiar family crest,

The very seal on each letter he’d received for years.

Too-vibrant eyes of blue met his own and Espresso had to uproot himself to run—

But it seems that his sins have finally caught up to him.

“Wait— stop!”

Madeleine was confused as to why the man was running.

He recognized the scientist almost immediately, would know him anywhere despite the years that have passed since his successful “treatment.” He still had nightmares of awakening in that blinding white room, his lungs crying for breath, his limbs leadened and weak with disuse, the sounds and smells far too strong for his senses to fully absorb.

He remembered coming-to, his vision swimming in the brightness before focusing in on a man he’d never met,

His dark cloak with the magenta diamonds, the large, round spectacles, the milky swirl against his coffee-brown locks—

And then the man was gone.

Madeleine awoke some hours later in his room. Dust had collected in the space and the mattress felt lumpy and hard, but the sheets were freshly washed.

His mother was by his side for the entirety of his first few days, watching with tearful eyes as he grew frustrated as he struggled to adjust to his weakened state.

And then she explained everything to him.

After understanding what had transpired over the past few years ( years! ), Madeleine vowed to find the scientist again. He underwent months of rigorous physical therapy and training to restore his movement, his mobility, his strength, and swordsmanship. His mother and aunties tried to coddle him, tried to keep him in an isolated and insulated bubble, but Madeleine knew he couldn’t live like that!

He was a knight of the Republic! He was there to protect his people and defend his country! And his dearest mother, so proud and so tired, so very happy to see him and his progress, and yet so very wistful to see him leave home, only spoke of how much she loves him and how—

—he has truly returned to them.

Go, then. See the world. And find that dear young man. I’d like to thank him once more.

This man was that man. The one that stood before him, cautious and a bit fearful of him (Madeleine couldn’t fathom why!) was the very reason why he undertook this arduous journey across Earthbread in the first place.

And—he was suddenly running away! For such a lithe thing, he was unexpectedly fast!

H-Hold on now!

Madeleine isn’t letting him go that easily!

Espresso's heart was jackrabbiting in his ribs. Just as he feared all those years ago, he was cornered and caged (at the white lily gardens of all places) about to be dragged back and forced to face his crimes against nature—

“T-THANK YOU!” the knight— Madeleine— barked out (albeit, awkwardly). “You…you are the scientist, correct? The scientist Espresso?” he asked. 

Espresso scanned the man in front of him, standing tall and proud and donning the heavy, shining armor. His face filled out, his color a healthy shade of color on his cheeks against the sea of white petals of the gardens, his hair was appeared wild but well-combed, silky despite its full volume—

Oh. He was staring, wasn’t he? But Espresso was not at fault for that, after all, this was certainly not the same man he saw lying in that room.

No, Espresso thought uneasily. This is another man entirely.

“Yes. That is…correct,” he said carefully. “You are—”

“Madeleine! Knight Commander of the Republic!” He announced with a tone of pride (almost exceeding arrogance).

Ah . So…he took back his position. Espresso gave him a wry smile, unsure how Grand Madeleine was able to explain that one to the Republic.

“Very well, knight commander,” Espresso started, eyes darting towards anything he could use as an exit strategy. He’d hate to resort to violence, especially after he spent so long resurrecting this fool.

But he will not be imprisoned for his mistakes, nor will he be forced to repeat them.

“I…have come here to look for you. To— thank you. ”

Espresso blinked, panicking entirely when the knight knelt before him, taking his hand and looking up to him beseechingly.

“Thank you…it was your magic that cured me.”

Espresso blinked in bewilderment, his head feeling light and the ground beneath him beginning to fall away beneath his feet. Cured?

Perhaps...in a way, Espresso cured him of death. But what did he mean—?! 

“You lied to him.”

Grand Madeleine smiled, pouring a cup of tea for her guest. Ah. She supposed a cup of coffee would be more to his palate.

Espresso continued to pout across from her in her study, his arms crossed in a way that she supposed was intended to make him appear stern. Instead, the poor thing was all skin and bones; Grand Madeleine already knew him to be a poor eater from his stay at her manor all those years ago, but somehow made worse by the self-imposed exile and exodus he undertook.

She’ll be sure to make it up to him. Feed him more and impose bedrest if he’d allow it. “I only told my boy that a brilliant scientist saved him from what was sure to be an eternal slumber, a sleeping sickness that took hold of him for many long years.” 

Incidentally, that was the lie bought by the Republic as well. 

Grand Madeleine sighed, setting down her cup upon her desk and gazing into the swirling, dark liquid. To her right, a photo of Madeleine from when he was a boy. To her left, a photo of Madeleine re-taking his first steps after years of immobility. At first, she could hardly believe it—she couldn’t sleep for days, afraid that it might have all been a dream, that Espresso had still been downstairs performing his reluctant trials while she still begged and pleaded with the Divines each night for her son to return home.

But now her Madeleine has returned to her, to them. And she has this man to thank.

This man who looks like he’d rather be facing the gates of hell than to see her beloved son for dinner downstairs.

Such a pity, she chuckled. Oh well. We’ll see if we can’t change his mind.

“I told him you left that night to help others who suffered similarly.” She watched as Espresso paled, confirming her suspicions. Ah. So he fled fearing others would demand he revive the fallen. “I told him that you’ve left the Republic to help others around the world with your talents.”

“He followed me.”

Grand Madeleine smiled. “I did try to stop him. But he wanted to meet the wonderful man that saved him.”

Espresso continued to glower at her. “You mean, the one responsible for his creation .”

Grand Madeleine huffed out a laugh. “I know my boy, Professor. Perhaps you lack faith in your genius, your brilliance, but I knew immediately—”

“Mine and dozens of others, right?”

Grand Madeleine remained undeterred, as always. “You were always our favorite.” She let out a sigh, seeing as the scientist would be unhappy regardless of what reassurances she gave. “I have my boy back, Professor. I have no regrets. I have spoken to no one regarding our…joined efforts. Not a soul knows of what we were able to accomplish—”

Espresso glared. “Even Elders Baumkuchen and Mulled Juice?”

She continued to smile. “I have my ways of ensuring their silence in the matter.”

Espresso pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the damned ringing in his ears to recede. The only reason why he allowed himself to get dragged back to this house of horrors was so that he and Grand Madeleine could both discuss the events that took place here properly.

Apparently, the only option now was to vow to take this binding sin with them to their graves.

“You must continue to watch over Madeleine and make sure nothing goes awry,” Espresso instructed, gathering his coat and briefcase. “Ensure that that nothing goes wrong with him—”

“I have watched him for several years , Professor.” Her tone made him pause; her glare made him slowly sit back down. “It’s him. There is nothing wrong with my son—”

"Yet," Espresso hissed. “There are too many unknowns to know for certain.”

Grand Madeleine might have observed him for a brief number of years, but who’s to say that things didn’t fall through the cracks? Was this thing truly her boy?

Or was it something fabricated with their memories of him, the image Grand Madeleine, his aunts, and Espresso conjured, the ingredients Espresso created?

Or was it a creature wearing the mask of his memories, waiting for their guards to lower?

Grand Madeleine shook her head, her tone adamant. “I know my son better than anyone. It’s him, Professor.”

Espresso looked to her, the Madame’s words echoing in his mind:

I only wish for my son to return home,

And I will have that by any means necessary.

Espresso let out a sigh. “Please…just, let me know if anything should go wrong, should he prove to be...anything else: anything or anyone other than the son you know so well. You can give me a call—”

"Or you could take note of any...aberrances?" Grand Madeleine gave him a mirthful look. "After all, my boy is quite taken with you."

Ah, so he does have some color in his cheeks. The professor sputtered, finding it difficult to maintain his stern stance, but unfortunately, the effect was dimmed by his red face. “This is serious, Madame! We must remain vigilant!”

"Then take responsibility, Professor."   Grand Madeleine calmly sipped her lukewarm tea, finding the taste rich and exquisite. " You cannot wash your hands of our actions forever. Stay. Keep watch of him. I’m sure my son wouldn't mind that at all."

“I—”

“Mother—oh!” Madeleine poked his head from the door, grinning radiantly at the sight of their honored guest. “Professor!”

Grand Madeleine hid a smile at the way her son’s eyes brightened at seeing the startled scientist. “We’ve just about finished our discussion, Madeleine. Espresso, I do insist you stay for dinner—now, now, I won’t take no for an answer!”

Espresso continued to sputter, even as Grand Madeleine was pulling his arm out of the chair and shoving the poor dear towards her excitable son and ushering them both downstairs while she tidied up in her study.

“We have an amazing cook—it must have been difficult spending so many years on the road! You must miss a good home cooked meal—”

“I get by, I assure you—”

“And a good bed to sleep in! Most of the inns haven’t the luxuries we have here in the manor!”

“W-Well, yes, the beds are soft—”

“So, then you’re staying for the night?!”

“WHEN DID I SAY THAT?”

“It’s settled, then!” 

Grand Madeleine smiled, the latest of her plans falling into place.

She would do anything for her dearest son, after all.