Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not often that Agatha requests your attention as the “Matchmaker.” She’s incredibly skilled at weeding out fodder that isn’t worthy of her affection, so when she does request your services, it’s usually so you can arrange a meet-and-greet event for her or to see if there’s any genuine potential with the person she’s interested in.

Those requests usually involve her inviting you over to her house for lunch or dinner. It’s a friendly, innocent routine that’s not unlike your usual interactions; it’s just that your conversations lean more business than gossip in those circumstances.

So, when she tells you to come to the Mnesos Museum, her workplace, you can’t help but grow a little curious. Did someone want to request your services through her? If so, she would’ve brought the client to one of your offices. Even the clients with the less romantic requests come to your office, albeit after your usual work hours. The only time she’s ever asked you to go to the museum is if the client couldn’t leave.

Which meant this was a request from one of the sentient artifacts.

Agatha’s waiting for you at the front desk when you arrive. She finishes her phone call as you make your way towards her.

“Sorry for making you come so early,” Agatha apologizes as she tucks her phone away into her back pocket and. It’s 5 AM, way too early for you to be running around the city. “Antares came in early to do some work when he heard Cennet causing a ruckus.”

Most of the artifacts and art pieces within Mnesos were normal, but some have developed sentience. The only reason why they were able to come to life was because they had Aptets embedded into them, the same organisms that you had been infected with five years ago. If a living creature survives the initial infection, these bacteria-like organisms develop a mutualistic relationship with the host, granting them unique abilities that are beyond the capabilities of a “normal” individual. The ability that’s developed often correlates with the individual’s emotions and thoughts during the time they got infected. For inanimate objects, the emotion and thoughts the Aptet responds to come from its surroundings rather than the individual.

Cennet Sinclair, or more commonly known as the Silver Gate, is one of these artifacts that gained sentience. She’s the main attraction within the Hall of Mirrors. In fact, Agatha created the Hall of Mirrors solely for the purpose of housing Cennet.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her as the two of you start making your way to the Hall of Mirrors. “I’ve been getting tired of sleeping anyways.”

Agatha frowns after hearing you say this. “Did someone make you use your ability again?”

You shake your head. “No, I did it out of my own volition. I saw some nasty bonds attached to one of my clients and offered to sever them. Ended up falling sleep for half the day afterwards.”

“…Just be careful. I don’t want to find you dead in a ditch.”

“I will, I will.”

Agatha sighs at your response, and you don’t blame her. It’s a terrible lie that neither of you believe, especially since both of you are aware of your impulsive tendencies.

You don’t doubt that your impulsiveness is what will kill you.

Cennet is waiting outside of the mirror when you arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. You flinch when her ultraviolet gaze snaps onto you. Her stare, much like the other sentient artifacts, is incredibly unnerving. You will admit hers is more human than the others you’ve met though.

“Matchmaker, are you able to retether Life Bonds?” Cennet wastes no time revealing her intentions.

Life Bonds are the soul’s reason to exist, and unlike other bonds, these ones are completely dictated by nature— no amount of choice or determination can be made to change it. At least, in normal circumstances.

“I’ve done it before,” you reply, “but it takes time.”

‘And a hefty price.’ You leave the other half of the sentence in your chest.

“How much time?”

“Depends on the damage, the last time I did it, the Life Bond was just slightly damaged.”

Cennet’s expression hardens. Well, that’s not a good sign.

“Tell me what’s wrong; I’ll see if I can figure out a solution.” You step closer to Cennet— to the mirror.

“One of the other faces of my mirrors was cracking. I went to see what was going on and found 5 souls that managed to wander into my territory. That face was too damaged for me to put them back from where they came, and I lost the will to do so once I saw that their Life Bonds were completely severed. That being said, I could not do anything for them outside of preserving their souls.”

It’s a dire situation. No wonder Cennet was causing a ruckus.

You bite the inside of your lip.

You wanted to do something, but what could you do? Like you said, the last time you’ve dealt with a Life Bond, it was just slightly damaged. A completely severed Life Bond is essentially a final boss battle, in terms of your ability.

And Cennet said there was five of them. Five!

“Did their bodies follow them through the mirror? Or just their souls?”

You don’t know how it works, but sometimes people can pass through Cennet’s mirror body and all, while other times it’s just the soul that enters the mirror. Cennet doesn’t seem to understand the mechanics either; or if she does, she doesn’t know how to explain it.

“They came in with their bodies, which are alive, but in poor condition. If you know someone who can repair flesh, I suggest you call them over.”

You pull out your phone and decide to call Fiordispina— the one person you know with a broken healing skill.

It only takes 1 ring for someone to answer.

“Good morning, Miss Matchmaker.” The voice that comes through isn’t Fiordispina’s. It’s a man’s— a vaguely familiar man— but a man, nonetheless. “Fior is performing some tests in the lab, so she’s occupied at the moment. Is there something you needed?”

“Agatha, the director of the Mnesos Museum, contacted me earlier and informed me that Cennet needed something from me. I just finished hearing the details and…I’m going to need Fiordispina’s help with this.”

“Caesar...?” Another man’s voice seeps through the call. It’s a sweeter, sleep-ridden voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Caesar whispers. “Go back to sleep; an acquaintance called Fior for assistance.”

“Okay…”

Caesar clears his throat. “Apologizes. Give me just a moment; I’ll bring the phone to Fior.”

“Thank you.”

You listen to the man pass through various doors and hallways. Then, you hear him gingerly knocking on some wood, presumably the door to Fior’s laboratory.

Something clicks open, and there’s a quiet rustle of fabric.

“Caesar? Why aren’t you asleep?” You hear Fiordispina, and she’s clearly displeased by the fact that Caesar was standing at the door.

“I was, I promise,” Caesar reassures. “I woke up because your phone started ringing.” 

“Someone called me? This early?”

“The Matchmaker wanted your assistance, so I brought your phone down so you could discuss the details.”

“Thank you. Now, go get some more sleep before your mission.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Mm.”

The door clicks shut, and Fiordispina finally speaks into the phone. “What do you need, Miss Matchmaker?”

“There are five individuals that made it through Cennet’s Mirror. Their bodies are in bad condition. I was hoping you could come over and heal them before I got started on my part. Also…”

“Yes?”

“Do you happen to know anyone that can delay or temporarily stop deterioration?” You lower your voice so only Fiordispina hears what you’re about to say next. “I’m going to try to fix five severed Life Bonds.”

You’re met with silence.

“I know it’s reckless, but—”

“I’m going to send you some coordinates. Tell Cennet to connect to the mirror there; it’s my recovery suite. Bring the patients to the suite, and I’ll bring everyone else over.”

While you’re reckless, Fiordispina is probably worse. So, she doesn’t question your decisions— at least, not as much as she should.

“Okay. I’ll do that right away.”

You end the call and quickly get onto your messages app. You turn your phone so Cennet could see the message Fiordispina sent. “Can you connect to the mirror near these coordinates? The person who’s going to help me wants me to bring those individuals there.”

“I will come retrieve you as soon as I open the gate.” Cennet jumps into the mirror, giving you some time to summarize the situation with Agatha.

The museum director is visibly displeased with your choice, but she doesn’t stop you. Instead, she rubs gentle rubs her temple and says, “Of course you choose to do this right after you promise to be careful… Just don’t die, alright? You still need to finish painting the cat house.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It takes all your strength to lug the patients into Fiordispina’s recovery suite. You’re surprised you even managed to do it in the first place— seeing that they were all bigger and taller than you. The sun was also about to rise, which meant Cennet had to concentrate on not falling asleep so she wouldn’t accidentally trap you inside her dimension, so she couldn’t help you at all.

Luckily, one of Fiordispina’s companions, Reuben, was there to help you get them on the beds.

“Well, aren’t they pretty beat up?” Reuben comments as he finishes placing the white-haired man on the bed. “I wonder what trouble they got into.”

“I’m not sure,” you respond, though you know he wasn’t really expecting an answer. “But their Life Bonds have also been severed, so it must’ve been a pretty bad situation.”

Right, their Life Bonds— what were you going to do? You had no idea what they were originally anchored to. Not to mention, you probably wouldn’t be able to retrieve it anyways, and that’s if it was even a tangible item in the first place. Life Bonds could be connected to anything: music, money, a body of water, the stars, and even other souls. But without an anchor to connect it to, a repaired Life Bond is no different than a severed one.

‘I just need an anchor for their Life Bond...’

The more vitality an object had, the better it was at an anchor, and since these individuals might not be from this world, it would be better to tether them to something portable.

‘Aptet Stones.’

Aptet Stones, especially the ones with high purity, contained massive amounts of vitality. But there were a few problems— legally harvested stones are hard to come by and even if you did come across them, there’s no way you could afford five of them. You also didn’t have the time to buy the stones.

You’re about to rip your hair out of your head when something hard hits your head.

“Calm down. You won’t be able to save them if you turn yourself into a ball of anxiety.” Fiordispina drops five stones into your hands. Your eyes bug out when you realize they’re exactly what you need— high purity Aptet Stones.

Fiordispina had casually dropped millions of dollars into your hands.

“Stop thinking and get tethering, Miss Matchmaker. They don’t have much time left.”

Chapter Text

Having an ability (sequelae) in this world isn’t always a good thing, despite what some people say. In the first place, to obtain said power, you have to survive the initial infection. While the physical symptoms don’t manifest beyond those of a severe cold, your mental state completely deteriorates. Your thoughts go haywire, like the aptets are haphazardly rummaging through your mind in search of your innermost crises. It’s an intrusive, nauseating, and utterly horrific experience. If you cannot endure, those creatures will take over, and you’ll either die or mutate into an Aberrant.

To obtain power, you must undergo a trial— and that is just the beginning.

Surviving that gut-wrenching, mind-melting trial is not enough. To use your power, you must pay a price, and that price can be anything. The aptets could demand something as simple as caloric sustenance, but it could also be your sanity, your senses, and even…your life.

People want power, but is it truly worth the gamble? You don’t think so.

That doesn’t mean you despise the power you have. Far from it, really. Despite its hefty price, you like the fact that you had the ability to help someone if they needed it. And unlike some other “infected,” your ability has an on-off switch. You can choose when and how you use your power.

So really, it’s not all that bad.

What’s bad is the sensation of these Life Bonds consuming your vitality. Every time you shuffle the threads around to weave them into the correct braid-style, it feels like there’s needles being pricked in and out of your fingertips. The last time you worked on someone’s Life Bond, it wasn’t as bad. It felt more ticklish than anything else. You expected this time around to be harder since you had to repair the whole Life Bond, but you underestimated the amount of pain you’d have to experience.

Still, you intend to finish what you started.

You subconsciously stick out your tongue as you continue working on Mr. Knight’s (the blond) Life Bond, careful to replicate the star pattern you see on the undamaged portion of the weave.

Fiordispina takes a seat beside you. She’s holding an I.V. bag filled with scarlet liquid.

“I brought something to help with your exhaustion. Tell me when I can attach it to you.”

“Thank you,” you mutter. “Is everyone doing alright?”

“The patients are fixed up in the physical sense. I’ll call Adrasteia once everything settles down so they can check on Mr. Colonel’s arm. Danica’s taken over for Mehr while he rests,” Fiordispina informs as she starts fiddling with the I.V. bag. Her eyes are locked onto your fingers. She can’t see the Life Bond, so it looks like you’re braiding air.

Mehr and Danica were the two people Fiordispina brought over to keep the other patients’ Life Bonds from deteriorating while you focused on one of them. You didn’t want to imagine how much it costs to use their abilities, so you put all of your attention on fixing the bonds as quickly as possible.

“How long as it been since I’ve started?”

Mr. Knight was your first patient.

“Twenty minutes.”

‘Too long.’

You’ve used a lot of time on Mr. Knight, and you haven’t even started anchoring the Life Bond to the Aptet Stone.

“Fiordispina, can you pull a couple strands of my hair and give it to me?”

Fiordispina reaches over and carefully plucks a few stands of your hair. You take them and attach them to Mr. Knight’s Life Bond, extending it just a bit more so you can properly secure the Aptet Stone. It’s an in conventional method, but the last time you had to repair a Life Bond, you had used your hair to length one of the threads that had been cut short, and it worked.

You grab one of the Aptet Stones from your pocket and begin wrapping Mr. Knight’s Life Bond around it. After securing it, you cradle the stone in your hand and wait patiently for something— anything to signal that you’ve done it right.

‘Did I do it wrong?’

You did the procedure based on your instincts and minimal research, so…

As you’re about to unravel your work, a shock of electricity zaps through you. You quickly bite back a hiss and drop the stone. The dull Life Bond instantly brightens up. Your shoulders slump in relief.

“Looks like you were successful, Miss Matchmaker.” Fiordispina pats your head. “Now, let’s get this infusion started before you get your life completely drained out of you.”

She lets you take a seat beside your next patient, Mr. Waves (named after his wavy hair), before she takes your right hand. She carefully prods for a satisfactory vein before inserting the needle. After that, she checks the IV to make sure it’s dripping properly before letting your hand go.

“I’ll replace the bag in an hour. Let me know if you think you’ll need a stronger infusion. I’m going to take a quick nap. Reuben will stay, so if you need me, let him now.”

“Okay, thanks.”  

Fiordispina pats your head one more time before she leaves the room. You allow yourself to take a deep breath before taking Mr. Waves’ Life Bond into your hands.

‘Time for round two…’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You can tell your body is on the verge of shutting down by the time you’ve reached your final patient— Mr. Colonel. You were able to ignore it while you were working on Mr. Snow and Mr. Bossman, likely due to Fiordispina’s infusions, but you’re at your limit. You’ve probably long surpassed your limit. If Agatha was here, she would’ve knocked you unconscious to stop you from pushing yourself any further.

Luckily, she’s not here, so you can do whatever you want.

So, you push yourself. You push yourself through the searing pain and grasp onto Mr. Colonel’s Life Bond as though it’s your own lifeline.

It’s ironic, because retethering these Life Bonds will likely cost you your own life. You don’t plan on dying, but you’re aware that the likelihood of surviving is low.

‘Will I even be able to fix this before I croak?’

Your grip loosens as a wave of hesitation creeps upon you.

“Just hold out for a little longer; you’re almost done.” You hear someone whisper.

‘Stop thinking about it and keep working. You’re almost done.’

You don’t know who the whisperer was or who they were talking to, but their words help you squash the doubt that started to grow within you.

You start weaving Mr. Colonel’s Life Bond with renewed vigor. So much vigor that you don’t notice Fiordispina walking up to you to support your slumping body.

‘One goes over two and three, then under four…’

Spots begin to form in your vision.

‘Four goes under three, then over two…’

Your fingers are numb to the point you have to stare at them to get them to move in the right direction.

‘Tie the knot. Add some hair…Then add the stone…’

The last Aptet stone, a beautiful, apple-shaped one, is carefully placed into your hand. You adjust your hold on the stone and start wrapping the threads around it. It’s not as beautifully tied as the others, but it’s secure. At this point, that’s all you care about.

Your whole arm spasms as the Life Bond zaps you, and you can’t help but hiss at the pain. You let go of the Life Bond and wheeze, “I’m done…”

“You did good. I’ll take care of everything. Rest.” Fiordispina whispers praise and reassurances against your ear as she lifts you up from the chair.

“Thanks…Sorry if I go into cardiac arrest or something…”

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to succumb to the darkness.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your body slumps in Fiordispina’s arms as you lose consciousness.

“Reuben,” she calls for her assistant as she speedwalks towards the door. The pink haired man is quick to open the door for her.

“Do you need me to call anyone?” He asks just before she exits the room.

“Request an emergency nurse and physician from one of Clementine’s underground clinics. I want you to keep an eye on the patients and let me know if any of them wake up so I can check on them. If they become aggressive…sedate them or knock them out, whichever is more convenient.”

Normally, Fiordispina wouldn’t condone violence on her patients, but she’s already healed them using her own ability, so they should be fine. Though, she probably shouldn’t have given permission to her companion that is most prone to solving issues with his fists. Oh well; he won’t kill them, and she has more important things to deal with.

Like putting you on life support before you die.

You technically have two abilities: one that allows you to see people’s bonds and another that allows you to alter them. The first ability doesn’t cost you anything except a few extra calories and a bit of fatigue. The second ability, on the other hand, throws you into a coma. The longer you use it, the more dangerous it gets. The last time you worked with a Life Bond, your organs started failing. The only reason why you survived that ordeal was because you were already at the hospital and the medical staff assisted you right away.

Fiordispina doesn’t know if you’ll be able to survive, regardless of the amount of medical assistance you receive. But she’s aware of your stubbornness, and she’s willing to bank on it.

She takes you to the private bedroom that was initially built for Selene— her temporary ward— and starts hooking you up to the equipment. The positive is that you’re still breathing on your own and your heart is still beating, but she doesn’t know how long that’s going to last.

If worse comes to worse, she’s going to have to resurrect you.

“Let’s hope I don’t have to take any extreme measures,” she mutters under her breath. “No one is going to be pleased if I have to do that.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You open your eyes to see a sharp appendage lunged in your direction.

“Starlight!”

You’re blinded by a bright flash. It causes you to stumble back into something firm. Firm, sturdy, and a bit cold.

“Darling, are you hurt?”

You look up to see a man with black hair and hazel green eyes. His expression remains stoic, but you can see the concern glimmering within his eyes.

‘It’s Mr. Snow.’ You think to yourself.

“I’m okay, thanks for catching me,” a voice that isn’t yours leaves your mouth, and you’re temporarily stunned by it, until something clicks in your head.

‘I’m in a dream, experiencing someone’s memories.’

This also happened the last time you worked with a Life Bond, though you had experienced the memory with a bird’s eye view of everything rather than this first-person perspective.

“You need to pay attention, Cutie.” Another man, Mr. Waves, appears beside you. “We don’t want you to get fileted.”

You feel yourself chuckling at his comment. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Are you okay?” Mr. Knight approaches you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

‘Whoever this is, they’re very popular.’  

“I’m fine,” you say.

Since this is a dream, you can’t feel anything, but you can tell the person you’ve ‘possessed’ is lying through her teeth.

“Let’s clear this area and get back with the other two.” You remove yourself from Mr. Snow and tighten your grasp on your weapon— a gun of some sort. The men comply, directing their attention to the monsters that started to congregate around them.

While your body is on autopilot, fighting these Wanderers, you come to a few conclusions.

First is the fact that the person you’ve possessed in this dream is the original anchor for the men’s Life Bonds. It wasn’t hard to figure out, seeing that you could literally see the golden threads connecting them to her.

Your second conclusion is that the men tolerate each other because of their shared anchor. Without her, they’d likely be sworn enemies or strangers. You couldn’t prove it, but it seemed likely. You’ve also learned their names: Mr. Knight is Xavier, Mr. Waves is Rafayel, Mr. Snow is Zayne, Mr. Bossman is Sylus, and Mr. Colonel is Caleb.

Third is that these men are from a different world, or at least, a different dimension. Abilities are known as Evols rather than Sequelae, and the monsters they’re fighting against are Wanderers instead of Aberrants. Sure, that doesn’t mean they’re from another world, but the person you possessed mentioned something about the metaflux and that’s not a term you’ve ever heard of. It’s too spacey for your world, if that makes any sense.

“Just a little bit more…”

For some reason, you’re pulled out of your trance by those words. You find yourself dragging Mr. Colonel, who you now know as Caleb, into a large mirror— it’s Cennet’s mirror, at least of its faces. You collapse as soon as you hurl Caleb through the mirror.

Your vision’s blotchy, and you can see blood spilling out of your mouth as you stare at your reflection. You’re in miserable shape, so miserable in fact, that you can’t do anything when a Wanderer attacks you.

The creature slams into you, crushing your body, and everything fades into nothing.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Fiordispina is in the middle of adjusting your IV bags when you let out a heart wrenching scream. She immediately stops what she’s doing and directs all her attention to you. Your body suddenly lurches forward, and she’s forced to take hold of your shoulders.

‘That was just a dream. Calm down. Take a deep breath.’ You chant to yourself repeatedly as you stare at Fiordispina with an unsteady gaze. Fiordispina silently begins rubbing circles on your shoulders, further grounding you.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, your nerves settle down.

“I’m sorry, that dream ended…violently,” you explain, avoiding any explicit details.

Fiordispina doesn’t try to pry. Instead, she pats your head and wipes away the sweat on your forehead, “Would you like anything? Water, juice? A teddy bear?”

“Some water please.”

Fiordispina steps away from the bed to retrieve a bottle of water from the minifridge. After sticking a straw in the bottle, she holds it in front of you. You carefully take it, and when she’s confirmed that you won’t drop it, she lets go.

“Thank you,” you say before taking a drink. The coldness sends a wave of relief through your system.

“You’ve been asleep for two weeks,” Fiordispina tells you as she takes a seat beside the bed. “The boys have been awake for roughly a week. They’re in rough shape, mentally and emotionally, but I let them duke it out with my assistants and Levin, so they’re feeling a bit better.”

“I can pay for the damages…”

You saw how they fight. There had to be some property damage.

She shakes her head. “No need. The training room got a little scorched and some of the floor tiles broke, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. Instead of trying to pay me back, you should just focus on taking care of yourself.”

“But you’ve done so much for me; I have to pay you back somehow.”

Fiordispina sighs. “Alright, I’ll let you cover the training room repair fees, but I’m not going to accept any other payments.”

“I have to at least pay you back for those Aptet St—.”

She places a finger against your lips. “Just take it, or else I’ll give you money.”

“…Fine.”

The green-haired woman pulls her finger away from your face. “Good.”

You let your lips slip into a small pout before you change the topic. “So, how did you explain the situation to those five?”

“All I said was that you found them while you were fulfilling a request, and that you ended up getting injured in the process of bringing them to me, so you were resting in one of the private rooms. The one with black hair, Zayne, did request to visit you to check on your condition since he was a doctor, but I told him you weren’t in the state for any visitors.”  

You sigh in relief. “You made the right decision to not let him see me.”

“Oh?”

“Long story short, I dreamed about the moment right before Cennet found them. There was a woman…who looked remarkably similar to me and…” I lower my voice down to a whisper. “She was the original anchor to their Life Bonds.”

Just before she got crushed by the Wanderer, you saw her face in the reflection, and it had a stark resemblance to your own.

“I don’t think it’s going to end well for them to see me like this,” you admit.

You didn’t want to appear before them with their dead lover’s face.

“No, it wouldn’t. Not for them or for you.” Fiordispina pinches her nose in exasperation.

“I’m probably the person who’s most familiar with their situation, so I want to help them, at least until they can make a decision for themselves.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“I know, but it’s not like Cennet can take them back since the mirror face to their original world is shattered, and I’m not going to leave them with you, especially not after all you’ve done already.”

You also imagined Fiordispina’s assistants wouldn’t be too happy with five more men prowling around the residence.

“…I’ll ask Serendipity for some of her perfume; it’ll distort their perception of you.”

“Thank you, and sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

“Unfortunately, we’re both people who can’t look away from people in need. Now, lay down and get some more rest; it’ll take a while for you to recover, since my Sequelae doesn’t help with mental fatigue.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Spritz.

Serendipity carefully sprays the perfume on your neck. The gentle aroma of peonies, pears, and a hint of cedarwood hits your nose; it’s a very joyful scent. You’re not sure if you’d ever pick this scent out for yourself, but it’s within Serendipity’s tastes.

“My perfume will alter someone’s perception of you, so long as they aren’t aware that their perception is being altered. People who also have high intuition or perception Sequelae might also see through the illusion, but I think you should be fine.”

You nod. “Thank you for your help. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

Serendipity lets out a knowing huff. “You really don’t have to do anything, but I know Fior’s already forced you to accept her generosity so why don’t you just buy me a few pastries from Zephyr’s? Enough so I can share with my brothers.”

“I don’t mind— but is that what you really want? I could buy some from Cosmic Eclipse or some other fancy place.”

“I prefer Zephyr’s; I just love their whipped cream frosting. It’s just so fluffy and the sweetness is just right.”

“Okay. I’ll pick some up and take them to your office,” you promise, which earns you a bright smile.

“Then, let me take you to the lounge where the others are waiting!”

Serendipity wheels you out of the room. While you insisted you could walk, the medical professional (Fiordispina) thought otherwise, and of course, she was right. Your sequela-induced coma didn’t last as long as you thought it would, but it certainly took quite a toll on your body, so you were too weak to walk on your own.

It was unfortunate, but you’re alive.

“You’re here,” Fiordispina announces your arrival as Serendipity wheels you into the lounge. Your heart skips a beat when everyone’s eyes land on you.

‘Ugh, how awkward…’ You force a smile onto your face, hoping no one notices how stiff your expression is.

“Hello, I’m ____. I’m relieved to see that everyone is awake.”

“We’ve heard from the Professor. Thank you for helping us.” Zayne’s the first one to speak up.

‘He was stoic in the dream, but now, he’s even worse. I can’t read his expression at all.’

But that could be said for everyone else. It made sense— the person in front of them wasn’t their anchor, but someone else. A complete stranger. Someone that doesn’t have a place in their heart. There was no way they were going to expose themselves to you like that (not right now).  

“I just did what was right.”

“Still, we should express our gratitude,” another one of them, Caleb, joins the conversation. “I doubt it was easy to lug us around.”

“She’s so scrawny, I doubt she could even lift my arm, let alone any of you brutes.” Rayafel huffs, which earns him a slight glare from Zayne.

You laugh and say, “I just called for help, so you really don’t have to thank me.” It’s a lie, of course, but what could you do? Tell them that you basically tied their souls back to their body by anchoring it to some magical life stone?

You couldn’t, and luckily, Firodispina doesn’t say anything to expose you. She does direct a rather intense frown at you though.

Zayne gently clears his throat. “We also heard from the Professor that you intend on helping us until we got things resolved…”

You nod. “I did…the place I found you guys at isn’t really known to have anyone living there, so I presumed you got stranded one way or another…”

“We’re grateful for your offer, but we’ll manage on our own.”

The room gets cold as soon as Sylus finishes speaking.

‘Well, okay then.’  

Chapter Text

Their response is … perfectly reasonable. There’s no need to accept help from strangers, even if they did save your life. Plus, they’re grown adults, meaning they probably had the skills to fend for themselves. There’s no need to rely on a woman who’s in worse condition that you.

Does their response still irk you?

Yes, absolutely. It bothers the fuck out of you because you know they need help. It’s almost to the point you want to throw a fit, but you don’t, because that’s literally the worst way to get someone to accept a favor and you know they’re not in the best headspace right now. Also, you’re not going to embarrass yourself like that.

That doesn’t mean you aren’t going to just let them go. Hell no. You didn’t put that much effort into tethering their existence to this mortal plane just to have them off themselves in some random alley. Absolutely not. You needed them to live long enough and gather their wits before deciding they want to die or whatever.

“Then, at least let me give you some things— to ease my own mind. And of course, you won’t need to return anything I give you, since I’m doing it for myself.”

By using yourself as an excuse, you hope they’ll accept the offer. They should, if they want to get you off their backs, or if they have any ounce of empathy for you.

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” Xavier mumbles as he fiddles with his bangs.

“…Refusing at this point will leave a bad taste in my mouth, so I’ll accept your goodwill.” It’s obvious that Rafayel is skeptical of you, but you ignore the venom-laced tone in favor of his verbal agreement.

The other three men don’t say anything, but Sylus does scoff, though you have a feeling it’s directed at Rafayel rather than you.

‘I’ll take it.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Since you can’t travel on your own, Fiordispina has Graham take you and the boys around Regina. It wasn’t within your original plans, but Fiordispina mentioned that they hadn’t left the residence ever since they woke up, so you decided it would be good to give them a tour of the city they’d be stuck in for the foreseeable future.

“Regina is comprised of 5 main districts: the Inner City, Risti, Junes, Hila, and Yoan. Fiordispina’s residence is located in the Yoan district, which is considered to be the academic center of Regina. Right now, we’re heading to the Hila District, which most of the businesses are located in. Risti is the entertainment district, while Junes is the industrial. The Inner City has most of the popular tourist attractions, like the historical sites, amusement parks, and sanctuaries. If you have time, I suggest you wander around Solfiore Boulevard. It’s one of the only streets that has been conserved from the Delis Empire,” you ramble as you’re scrolling through your phone, ordering a couple of things so you can just go pick them up from the store. “And if you’re interested in some good home cooked food, Cinnabar Bride is located there. I’m particularly attached to their Terrentine, which is similar to a mille-feuille.”

You’re met with silence, which is unsurprising. You aren’t even sure if anyone’s actually listening to you.

“Miss Matchmaker, where would you like me to go?” Graham sends a quick glance over your way as he prepares to turn right. “We’re about to hit Gordon Street.”

“Can you go to Deluca Bank? They should have a branch on Gordon. Just drive up to the ATM.”

“Yes ma’am.”

At the ATM, you create 5 prepaid cards loaded with a thousand dollars each. The amount makes you cringe, but you’re not going to set up them for failure, and it’s not like you can’t earn it back within the week. You just don’t like taking money out of your account.

“Next is Crosslan on Diverge.”

After securing their funds, you needed to get them mobile devices, so they can contact each other (or not).

Graham parks the car in the handicap spot in front of the store and carefully wheels you out. The others obediently get out of the car and follow you into the building.

You wonder what the employees think when they see you and six utterly gorgeous men. You’re sure it looks ridiculous.

“I wasn’t sure if you had your phones on you,” you explain. “So, I went ahead and bought some for you. Excuse me, I have an order underMatchmaker.”

“I will go retrieve your order right away,” the employee closest to you runs off to the back. It takes them approximately thirty seconds to return with a bag in hand.

Once you show your proof of purchase, the employee hands the bag to you, which you accept with as much grace as an animated teddy bear.

“Mm.” You hand a phone to Xavier, who’s standing to your left. Then it’s Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, and Rafayel. “Go pick out a phone case if you’re interested. I’ll go buy some phone cards.”

“I can help you with that,” the employee that retrieved your pickup order offers her assistance with a bright smile as she taps on her work phone, likely to pull up the available phone plans.

After scrolling through everything, you choose the family plan with unlimited data and free international calling.

“I’ll pay for the whole year,” you tell her as you bring out your business card.

“Looks like they’re coming back with some things,” Graham hums. You look up from the employee’s work phone to see a few of the boys walking back to you with a couple of items.

Rafayel, Sylus, and Xavier wordlessly hand you the items they want. Caleb and Zayne returned with nothing. You shrug your shoulders.

“Add these to the payment please.”

“Of course.” The employee happily rings everything up. “Would you like help setting up the phones?”

You look at the boys. “Well?”

“We should be fine,” Caleb answers with a polite smile.

“I can’t imagine it’s very different from our old phones,” Zayne agrees.

“Okay, then let’s get going.”

“Where to next, Miss Matchmaker?” Graham inquires as he gets you back in the car.

“1709 Maplehurst Street.”

You’re bringing them to your main residence.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

When your grandparents passed, you inherited multiple properties, until the house on Maplehurst. You’re renting out the other two houses, and the apartment above your office doesn’t have enough space for five grown men. So you’re going to give them access to your house, just in case they need a place to sleep.

You open your garage using the app on your phone.

“Come inside. I’ll give you the last thing while you’re setting up those phones.”

That’s how you had five sexy men sitting at your dining table, fiddling with their new mobile devices. Graham follows you to the master bedroom, assisting you as you get accustomed to the walking aids Fiordispina provided. Your house had steps to get into the building and the interior was mostly thick carpet— meaning it wasn’t very wheelchair friendly.

You retrieve the spare keys you have in your desk drawer. Every couple of years, your relatives would come and visit your grandparents, so they always had spare keys laying around for them. Thankfully, you had 5 spares— just the right amount for your potential guests.

You slip a key,  your business card, a note that has your house’s security password and the address, and a prepaid card(dangerous choices here, you know) into five envelopes.

Once you are done packing their little present, you return to the dining room. They all look at you with unreadable gazes. You quietly pass out the envelopes.

“There’s a prepaid card and a couple of other things inside. I’m not comfortable sending you guys on your own without any money. Like I said, you don’t have to return any of this. I’ve paid for an annual subscription for your phone numbers, so you don’t have to worry about that for a while. Also, the phone plan has unlimited data. That’s all; you’re free to leave whenever. I’m exhausted, so I’m going to pass out in my room.”

You word-vomit to prevent them from saying anything.

‘How ridiculous’ you grumble at yourself as you turn around and make your way to your bedroom. ‘I know I didn’t have to go that far for them, but…’

You wanted them to survive. You wanted them to survive, not only for themselves, but for the woman who died protecting them.

‘I’m sure they’ll have questions for me at some point…’

You close the door behind you and flop onto your bed.

‘I did what I could.’

That’s right. You did what you could. The rest is on them.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

While they are defiant, they still go along with you. You’re under the impression that it’s so they can get you off their backs quicker, which is true, but it’s only part of the reason.

You remind them of her.

Even with the perfume skewing their perception of you, they can still catch on to some similarities. After all, the perfume can only mess with your appearance and your voice— it can’t do anything to mask your behavior and mannerisms.

They can’t ignore those similarities. Not how your right eye twitches slightly when you’re annoyed, or how you try to maintain eye contact because it’s polite despite finding it awkward to look at someone in the eye. You even heighten the pitch of your voice the same way she does when you’re talking to strangers.

They can’t ignore you, even if they’re aware of the fact that you aren’t the person they’re thinking of.

That’s why none of them could outright refuse you. It felt like refusing her, and that didn’t sit well in their stomachs.

“Since the owner of the house is resting, why don’t we head out for lunch? It’ll be my treat.” Graham’s voice drags them out of their thoughts.

“There’s no need. You’ve already been generous enough,” Caleb says as he stands up from his seat.

“Then at least let me drive you back to the district center. There isn’t any good public transportation in this part of the district.”

With Xavier being the only one who can freely travel around without relying on vehicles, they take up Graham’s offer.

The car ride is silent, as expected. Without you, there’s no one willing to put in the effort to start a conversation. They’re too busy wallowing in their thoughts to do anything.

Zayne recalls the conservation he had with Fiordispina.

“Our abilities are sequelae of a specific kind of infection. While it can sound appealing, the survival rate of this infection is low, and there’s no guarantee that you’ll obtain an ability. Even if you do, you cannot control the type of ability you get,” Fiordispina responds as she’s typing away on her laptop. “Despite this, people will choose to suffer to obtain power, even if there’s dire consequences. Some might force others to suffer for them.”

She allows Zayne to see the darkness that resides within her heart. To see the indignation that threatens to swallow her whole.

“A price must be paid for us to use our abilities. Sometimes, it’s insignificant. Other times, it’s beyond what we can pay.”

She’s warning him.

“I won’t tell you what to do, but as a doctor, I hope you consider all of the risks before you take action.”

He clenches his jaw.

What price did you have to pay to save them? Did you also …

‘We were supposed to be done with making sacrifices.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Graham parks the car in the parking garage besides the Public Safety and Disease Management Agency building— his workplace. As much as he would love to laze around in his lover’s arms, it’s a weekday, which means he has reports to write and strategy plans to make.

Before he even has time to say goodbye, four out of the five men have already vanished into the air. Only Zayne remains.

“You aren’t going to make a run for it, Doctor?” Graham jests as he takes his time to get out of the car.

“…I have a few questions.”

 “And I might have a few answers. Though, I need to get some work done, so would you mind coming back in three hours? Unless it’s urgent.”

“I’ll come back.”

“This building is open to the public, so if you don’t see me standing outside, you can come in and ask the front desk for me. Just say you have an appointment with ‘Graham of the ninth division.’”

“Got it.”

“There’s a bookstore across the street. Fior loves to spend her time there— they have all of the medical textbooks and romance novels you’d ever need.”

An interesting combination.

Graham offers one last suggestion before he leaves. “While it’s not as good as Cinnabar Bride, there’s a coffee place at the intersection of Markus and Kitt, called Silky Blends. Their terrentines are great; they don’t skimp out on the sweet lemon curd and the portion is massive.”

Say no more. 

Chapter Text

The terrentine at Silky Blends is delightful. There are mounds of sweet coffee cream between the layers of puff pastry and cookie crumble. The whole thing is covered with sweet and slightly tart lemon curd that’s been thinned out just enough to allow it to drip off onto the sides of the dessert. There’s also a little bit of coffee powder and confectioner’s sugar sprinkled on top, creating a great visual. He even got the dessert for free— though he doesn’t quite understand why.

He wishes she was here to have a taste. Surely, it would’ve made her happy.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

‘Out of all of us, why did you have to be the one who isn’t here?’

Why was she the one who was missing?

To be honest, he can’t recall the sequence of events that happened before waking up in Fiordispina’s residence. He remembers the sudden hordes of Wanderers emerging from seemingly nowhere, and he remembers fighting them with her and the other guys, but there’s an obvious gap present in his memories.

No matter how much he tries, he can’t remember.

‘We should’ve asked her.’

It was a lapse of judgement caused by grief. Instead of immediately refusing your hand, they should’ve given you some time to explain their situation. Sure, Fiordispina provided them with some context, her details weren’t very specific.

He pulls out the envelope you gave him.

‘She said there was a prepaid card and a couple of other things.’

He carefully pulls the contents out of the envelope.

‘The prepaid card, a business card with her contact information, a key, and a note…’

Attached to the keys is a cute charm of a cat wearing an acorn hat. It’s quite adorable, and well loved, seeing that the protective film was covered in tiny scratches.

He sets the key down and opens up the note.

[1709 Maplehurst Street, Regina, Sicel, 89645-12640. To enter the residence, enter #521MM on the security pin pad. Once you hear a bell chime, you can insert the key provided.]

He quickly folds the note back up.

‘I can’t tell if she’s fearless or oblivious to danger.’

No sane person would give strangers their home address and free access to said home.

Luckily, you didn’t consider yourself sane, but Zayne doesn’t know that.

‘I should return this. It’s too dangerous.’ He puts everything back in the envelope and grabs his phone.

He couldn’t be walking around with free access to your home, especially when you’re still recovering.

‘She looks like she’s got a stubborn streak, so maybe I should hand it to Graham.’

He could trust Graham to return the key and note to you.

‘No, that would be insincere.’ He could also use the chance to have a conversation with you. To figure out things about this world, and his situation. Fiordispina did provide them with some information, but he had an inkling that she held back to let you explain. Yet, they blew it off in favor of escaping as soon as possible.

Well, he still has a chance to remediate the situation.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The first thing you see when you wake up from your nap is a visibly upset Agatha. You flinch at the sight of her furrowed eyebrows and quickly avert your gaze. It doesn’t help you escape the scrutiny, but it feels less intimidating when you can’t see her disappointment.

“Two weeks,” she declares.

You immediately pull the covers over your face.

“Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Agatha sighs. “I’m just going to be grateful that you lived to see another day.”

“I’ll take a break from work for another few days,” you promise from beneath the sheets.

“Make it a week. I know you recover slightly faster than a normal person, but you can’t even walk on your own. Give yourself some more time.” 

“Okay…” You grumble. Staying home and doing nothing all day is fun, but not when you’re being forced.

“I can hear you pouting; you did this to yourself.”

“I know, but I couldn’t ignore them, especially not after I saw how bad it was.” You finally pull the blanket off your face and turn your head to face Agatha. “I’ll refrain from using my bond altering abilities for a while.”

“I’m going to hold you up to that, missy. Now come and eat, I made some soup for you.”

The soup Agatha made was lemon chicken orzo soup with kale. She added more broth to it than normal, making it even more comforting and nourishing for your body. She watches you take the first bite, gauging your reaction, before taking a spoonful herself.

It could use more pepper flakes, but it’s good. The kale is nice and soft, and there isn’t any bitterness. The lemon adds brightness to the soup— it’s perfect, really.

 “So, which one caught your eye the most?”

You nearly choke on the soup you just put in your mouth. “Did, did you really have to ask that as I was about to swallow?!”

“Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose.”

It most certainly was. You could tell from the fact that her mouth couldn’t stop twitching. You playfully roll your eyes at her.

“They’d be top notch bachelors if it weren’t for the fact that they aren’t single,” you respond as you grabbed a slice of garlic bread. “I could rack in millions if they were my clients.”

There’s no point in considering someone when their hearts already belong to another.

“What a pity. I was hoping I’d finally be able to witness your love story.”

You dip your bread into the soup, allowing it to soak up all the delicious broth. “Nope, sorry. I’m going to be alone forever.”

“I planned to live vicariously through you, ma’am. Put yourself out there.”

“That requires me to try to be a real human, and I do not have the motivation to accomplish such things.”

“I have a feeling that being a real human is a whole lot easier than saving 5 hunks who were on the verge of death due to some spiritual disconnection.”

“Ignoring what you just said, those men aren’t single. There isn’t going to be any romance between us. I wouldn’t even be comfortable with them pursuing me.”

They’d be chasing a dead woman’s visage, and you’re worth much more than that. So much more.

“I feel like you just triggered your romantic downfall?”

“… I’m not the protagonist of some romance novel, Agatha.”

Agatha shrugs her shoulders as bites into her garlic bread. “That’s what they all say.”

You really should’ve been more careful with your words.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It was supposed to be a quick and simple exchange. Graham ‘convinced’ Zayne to join him for dinner at a local restaurant that serves good radish cakes and various stir fries. They would eat and discuss whatever Zayne wanted, and then part ways.

But Graham is a bit of an unlucky soul— his day can never end without something unexpected happening. Not even two bites into his savory radish cake, something happens.

“Mister Graham.” The waitress, Ness, approaches their table with an anxious expression. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you possibly come with me to the back? Kai doesn’t look good.”

Graham nods his head as he finished his bite of food. “Of course.”

“I’ll come with you,” Zayne says as he gets up from his seat. As a doctor, he can’t ignore the sick.

“Alright but let me examine Kai first.” Graham isn’t a medical professional, but he’s very familiar with a certain do I took.

Ness takes them to the break room. The woman laying down on the bench in the room opens her eyes and stares at them with bleary eyes. “Ness…? And…who else?”

Her cheeks are flushed and she’s shivering.

Graham rushes over to her side. “Hi, Kai. It’s me, Graham. You remember me, right? I’m the one who helped your auntie a couple weeks ago.”

Kai nods her head. “Y-yes.”

“I’m going to do a quick check on you, so will you give me your hand?”

Kai places her hand on top of Graham’s.

He smiles. “Thank you.” He reaches up and presses the call button on his earpiece (he did always have that on?). “Caesar? Bring a car to Mountain Swallow. We have a case.”

Zayne frowns. ‘A case? Then…’

“Ness, could you make an ice pack? And wear a mask.” Graham requests as he pulls a handkerchief out from pocket and uses it to wipe the sweat from Kai’s face. “Doctor, when Ness comes back, take the ice pack and bring it over. Oh, make sure to wear a mask as well.”

“Leave it to me!” Ness scurries away.

Zayne stays by the door. “Is she…?” 

“In exchange for my luck, my sequela grants me incredibly sensitive intuition. I can’t actually tell if she’s been infected, but my gut is almost always right in these situations,” Graham reveals.

He gingerly released Kai’s hand. “I called my teammate so we can take you to a hospital. Just wait a little bit longer.”

“The ice.” Ness appears beside Zayne with the items Graham requested. Zayne takes the mask and puts it on before taking the ice pack and handing it to Graham.

“Thank you. You too, Ness. Tell the owner to get this room disinfected.” Graham folds the handkerchief and places it on top of Kai’s forehead before adding the ice pack on top of it. “Kai, this is Doctor Zayne.”

“Hello…” Kai wheezes.

“Hi, Kai. If it is alright with you, I would also like to check your symptoms.”

“Sure…”

Zayne could already see the symptoms of a severe cold or flu, and with a simple touch of the wrist, it was obvious she was running a high fever. If this was an aptet infection… it really didn’t seem any different than a common cold.

“The key symptom is mental anguish,” Graham whispers just loud enough for Zayne to pick up. “But it won’t manifest until the third day.”

“Kai, how long have you been experiencing symptoms?” Zayne asks.

“Since yesterday evening, but it got worse all of a sudden…” she responds before covering her mouth to cough.

“Graham, I’ve arrived.” A voice suddenly comes from Graham’s earpiece.

“Back or front entrance?” Graham carefully lifts Kai up from the bench. Zayne grabs ahold of the ice pack to stop it from falling.

“The back.”

“Ness, is this the back door?” Graham tilts his head towards the door on the other side of the room from Ness.

“Yes! I’ll explain everything to the owner, so please don’t worry about tonight. I’ll leave Kai in your care,” Ness replies.

“Of course. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

With that, the pair left the restaurant.

Caesar raises an eyebrow when he sees Zayne with Graham, but he doesn’t make any comments. Instead, he looks back at Graham and asks, “Is that the niece of the lady we helped a couple weeks ago?”

“Yeah. Zayne, sit in front. The back seats are too cramped for a tall man like you.”

Zayne complies despite his desire to monitor the patient.

“I’ll take her to the clinic on Crane Avenue then.”

“Good idea.” Graham gets in the car, careful not to disturb Kai. He clicks in his seatbelt and closes the door. “Okay, we can go.”

Caesar shifts the car into drive and presses the accelerator.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Graham and Zayne are standing in the clinic lobby while Caesar is working on the paperwork for Kai. Normally, it would be Graham who would be responsible for it, but Caesar took over when he heard that Zayne had something to discuss with his brunet teammate.

“Just don’t start a fistfight with each other,” he says, earning him a smack on the shoulder from Graham.

“I’m not our resident Sandwich.”

“What you just did says otherwise, Cracker.”

“Will you get out of here, Sir Salad?”

Caesar playfully pulls Graham’s ear before walking away.

‘They have a good relationship with each other despite…’

“We were teammates before meeting Fior,” Graham states, as if he heard Zayne’s thoughts.  “We already had our dynamic established. She just slipped right into it, like a puzzle piece we didn’t realize was missing.”

Graham’s eyes cloud over as he reminisces momentarily. Once he blinks, the haze vanishes completely. “That’s a story for another time. What questions do you have for me? We didn’t even get a chance to talk when we were at the restaurant.”

Questions, right. He had those.

“Is the Matchmaker fearless or oblivious to danger?” A question, one that wasn’t intended to be asked, slips out before Zayne could stop himself.

“Hahaha!” Graham doesn’t hold back his laughter. “For someone with such a solemn face, you ask the funniest things.”

Zayne covers his face with his hand. “That wasn’t my intended question…”

“But you’re curious about the little Matchmaker.”

“She gave me, and presumably the rest of them, the keys to her house,” Zayne attempts to explain. “Only people who—”

“Those who come out the other side of an aptet infection aren’t sane. They can’t be, in order to survive,” Graham cuts him off. “That’s not to say what she did wasn’t crazy, but she did it intentionally. She’s not oblivious to danger nor is she fearless; she’s just someone who has a heart that’s a little too soft towards those she knows she can help. There’re very few situations where she’ll prioritize herself over others— she’s almost a carbon copy of Fior.”

Graham takes a step closer to Zayne. “The only difference is that she doesn’t have any strong anchors to hold her down.”

Zayne finally sees the chaos that’s caged within Graham’s pupils.

Graham steps away from the doctor and offers him a smile. “What was the intended question you had for me?”

The cardiologist releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He takes a few seconds to pull himself together and shifts his posture so he’s facing Graham. “Will you take me back to the Matchmaker? To have a proper discussion with her.”

He should discuss the issues with the person directly.

“Certainly, Doctor.”

Chapter Text

You’re falling asleep to the sound of Agatha washing the dishes. It’s soothing, and while you don't mind being alone, you’re feeling a bit lonely. Maybe it’s because of that dream, or the fact that you’re exhausted. It doesn’t matter, not really. You’re too tired to care about the nitty gritty.

You push your face deeper into the pillow you’re holding.

You needed your cats.

One problem: Agatha brought your cats to her house (just next door) to take care of them, so they weren’t within reach.

“Agathaaaaaa…” you grumble. She doesn’t hear you, obviously. You’re in the living room while she’s in the kitchen, not to mention the fact that she’s literally washing the dishes, one of the loudest chores in the house aside from vacuuming. Still, you try.

“Agiiiiiiiiiiiii….” You try again, this time with her nickname. The summoning ritual fails.

“Miss Millerrrrrrrrrrrrrr?” You try again with a louder, but still muffled, voice. Once again, it doesn’t work, and a huff of frustration leaves your lungs.

As you contemplate whether you should try calling for her again or simply give up, the doorbell rings. Agatha immediately turns off the water and dries her hands off with the towel hanging on the oven door handle.

“I got it, stay there,” she tells you as she cuts through both the dining room and living room to get to the foyer.

You hear the door being unlocked and pushed open.

“Good evening, Morella, Chevalier, and…”

‘Caesar and Graham are here?’

Agatha had this quirk where she called acquaintances by their last name. She doesn’t do it with everyone, but you haven’t figured out where the line was. It’s just one of her charms.

“Ah, that’s right, I don’t think you’ve met him yet,” Caesar’s voice flutters through the hallway. “This gentleman is Zayne. He’s one of the people Miss Matchmaker helped a couple weeks back.”

You tense up.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Agatha Miller. I’m one of Miss Matchmaker’s friends and her next-door neighbor.”

“Please to meet you, Miss Miller.” Zayne joins the conversation, his voice low and steady, as always.

“She’s also the director of the Mensos Museum. A very talented young lady,” Caesar reveals. You can just imagine the smile on his face.

Agatha scoffs, “Your flattery won’t get you anywhere, Morella. I still haven’t forgotten the time you released that beast inside the museum.”

“That was an unfortunate accident. The cuffs were faulty.” Caesar swiftly defends himself.

Agatha was definitely rolling her eyes right now. “Putting that aside, what brings you here?”

“Fior wanted me to bring some infusions over. While I was making my way there, Graham called me to help him with a case. This Mister was with him, so we took care of the patient before coming here together. Did Miss Matchmaker already retire for the day?”

“She’s awake, just laying on the couch.”

“Then… Miss Matchmaker?” Caesar raises voice just a bit so you can hear him clearly. “Would it be alright if we stepped in for a moment?”

“That’s— That’s fine,” You reply, silently cursing yourself for stuttering.

‘Is the perfume still potent enough to deceive Zayne? I won’t be able to get to my bag in time.’

Your bag was in your room anyways, so it wasn’t like you’d be able to escape their line of sight, since the door to your room was in the hallway that led to the foyer.

‘Let’s just hope for the best.’  You tell yourself as you push yourself up into a seating position.

Caesar’s the first one to step into the living room. As he does, he approaches you with his hand in his pocket. He pulls out a small glass vial and places it near your neck.

“Good thing Serendipity handed me the extra,” he whispers and presses the pump down, sending a spritz of perfume onto your throat. The scent of peonies and pears hits your nostrils, instantly relieving you of your concern.

“Thank you,” you whisper back.

“You’re welcome.” Caesar drops the mini vial onto the pillow before making his way to the kitchen. “I’m going to put the infusions in the fridge.”

“Okay; just let me know where you put it.” You lean over to watch the blond, just out of curiosity.

Agatha, Graham, and Zayne enter the living room a few seconds later.

“Did you guys have dinner yet? I can reheat the orzo we have.”

“I’m good, I’ll just snack on something once we get home,” Graham responds. He looks at you and grins. “Your complexion is much better compared to this morning.”

“Being at home helped me relax,” you say as you remove the pillow from your grasp and get up from the couch. “Let’s sit at the dining table— there’s a bit more room.”

You’re purposefully ignoring the larger, L-shaped couch in the front right side of the living room.

You take the seat in front of the sliding door while Zayne takes the seat across from you. Graham sits down beside Zayne while Caesar takes the seat between you and Graham.

Zayne places two bags onto the table and slides them towards you. You raise an eyebrow, silently questioning the presumed gifts.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to answer a few questions of mine,” Zayne explains.

“You don’t need to bribe me for answers?”

“I understand, but it felt inappropriate to intrude without bringing a gift over. Though, I’m not sure if it’s sincere enough, seeing that it was purchased with your money.”

“The moment I put that card in your hands, the money inside was yours. Thank you for the gifts.” You gingerly accept the bags and pull them closer to you. When you look up, you notice how Zayne’s shoulders have become slightly less tense.

“You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure what your preferences were, so I just purchased some bath salts that can help with relaxation. I heard from Caesar that you had a few cats, so I also bought some treats for them.”

“My babies will definitely appreciate the treats. I’d introduce them to you, but they’re at Agatha’s at the moment. Their names are Soot, Char, and Cinder. They’re all incredibly friendly.”

“I assume they’re all either gray or black cats?” Zayne places his hands on the table.

“Yup! They’re all black. Soot was a stray I tamed with patience and a lot of boiled chicken. The other two are litter mates that I adopted from a local shelter. Their parents, Coal and Tar, got adopted by Agatha.”

Zayne’s finger twitches when he sees the joy bouncing within your eyes as you talk about your cats. It goes unnoticed by you, but it doesn’t escape Graham or Caesar.

“If the chance arises, I would love to meet them.”

Zayne doesn’t realize what he’s doing, or maybe he does. You’re not sure, but you don’t refuse him. “Agatha should be bringing them back in a couple of days, once I’ve recovered a bit more.”

“And let’s hope I don’t have to whisk them away for a while.” Agatha returns with a tray of snacks and tea. “The tea is Cinnabar Bride’s Grace blend. The snacks are whatever the ones she had in the pantry.”

The snack plate had some jam filled marshmallows that your younger cousin bought for you to show her appreciation for letting her and her friends stay for their trip to Regina, some yogurt covered pretzel sticks that was a freebie from the grocery store, a handful of chocolate covered espresso beans that you vaguely remember getting from one of the coffee shops in Hila, sesame crackers from the grandma living across from you, and the Lussier-shaped butter cookies you received from a client a while back.

Agatha takes the other seat next to you once she’s distributed the drinks.

“You really ransacked my place for these,” you exasperate, though there’s no bite to your words. “I’m surprised I even had all of this in my house.”

“I’m surprised too, since your fridge is miserably empty.”

“Now that you mention it, your fridge is rather sparse,” Caesar agrees. “Minus the few containers of soup and some condiments.”

“I never know when I’m going to use my sequela, so it’s easier to just buy food for a couple of days at a time. Plus, I always have a few packs of instant noodles in the house.” You take a sip of the tea. “Mm, you brewed it well. The mint cleans up the tannins just enough.”

“Does the tea suit everyone else’s taste?” Agatha turns her attention to the others at the table. “If not, I can brew a pot of jasmine.”

“No need,” Graham chirps as he picks up one of the pretzels. “I love this blend.”

Caesar nods. “Diletta did a wonderful job with it. It’s a pity that it was limited edition.”

“She says she plans on bringing it back once she successfully grows the rain mint. Decent quality leaves are hard to come buy in this region since it doesn’t rain enough, even during rain season.” Your eyes flicker towards Zayne’s direction.

There’s a frown tarnishing his good looks. It’s slight, but apparent enough for you to see it.

‘Maybe he’s not very fond of the bitterness.’

You tap Agatha’s knee under the table. “Bring some honey for me?”

Agatha follows your line of sight before getting up to grab what you requested. “Here you go, your majesty.”

As you take the jar of honey from Agatha, you ask, “Graham, have you tried adding honey to Grace?”

“I haven’t.”

“You’re missing out then. Slide your cups over; I’ll let you experience something new today.”

‘Ugh, that sounded so forceful.’

Everyone hands their cup to you, even Caesar, the man who prefers 90% cocoa dark chocolate and roasting his coffee beans until they’re almost burnt. You drizzle the honey into everyone’s cup one by one, making sure to add a bit more to Zayne’s portion before returning the cups to their owners.

“Give it a nice stir before drinking.”

Graham’s the first one to offer you a reaction. “The fragrance and flavor completely changed.”

While Grace normally tastes like the spring rain washing away the last remnants of winter, when you add honey to it, its flavor changes into something closer to the morning sunlight reflecting off early summer dewdrops.

“I thought adding the honey would only make it sweet,” Zayne murmurs. “But this is a completely different beverage.”

‘Okay, he looks like he’s enjoying himself now.’

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Quite.” Zayne says as he lifts his cup to take another drink.

A couple more minutes of small talk later, and Agatha decides it’s time to finish washing the dishes. Graham and Caesar excuse themselves when the former receives a phone call from their Levin, their superior. This left you and Zayne at the table. You refill Zayne’s cup with some more tea, making sure to add a dollop of honey beforehand.

“We got a little sidetracked, sorry about that,” you apologize sheepishly. “What questions did you have for me? I’ll answer to the best of my knowledge.”

Zayne places his hands on the table. You watch as he interlaces his fingers together— they’re quite long. And well-manicured.

“Fiordispina did provide us with an explanation for our situation when we woke up, but I was hoping you’d be able to provide me with more information.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything you’re willing to tell me.”

‘I thought he’d be more demanding. Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor and doesn’t want to push someone who’s still recovering from their injuries.’

“I can get quite long-winded.”

“That’s fine.”

You chuckle a little. “Alright. Don’t blame me if you fall asleep in the middle of my monologue.”

You take a deep breath and recite everything to Zayne. You tell him that it was a request you received through Agatha from an acquaintance. You reveal that it wasn’t you who found them, but an acquaintance, but they couldn’t stay and wait, so you took over the task of getting help.

You lie to Zayne, telling him that you can only see people’s life threads, which also included something called their death bond, which showed you how close someone was to dying.

“Everyone was on death’s doorstep, so I brought you to Fiordispina with some assistance from Reuben.”

You push the credit onto Fiordispina to avoid telling him about your second sequelae.

“Looking at people’s death bond requires more out of me, so I passed out after Fiordispina finished treating everyone. My health has always been on the delicate side, so it’s easy for me to overdue things.”

If Zayne can tell you’re hiding things, he doesn’t do anything to show it. Instead, he diligently notes what you say on his phone.

“Is there a reason why your acquaintance would request you instead of emergency services?”

“It’s not a place people can freely leave and enter. Due to the nature of the area, it’s easy to get lost. But since I can see bonds, I can use them as a guide. While I was taking you to Fiordispina, I used my friendship bond with her as a guide to bring you to her. After getting Xavier to Fiordispina, I used his bond with Sylus to guide me and Reuben back to you and the others. Reuben managed to carry three of you at once, which was a relief since you were all in such terrible condition.”

“How did your acquaintance find us then?”

“My acquaintance essentially rules over that domain. She wanted to help you herself, but she can’t stray too far from there, and her ability causes her to fall asleep during the day. There just wasn’t enough time for her to do anything aside from contacting Agatha.”

“This is… quite convoluted,” Zayne admits. “Please give me a moment to sort out the information.”

“Take your time.”

You want to scoff at yourself, but you hide your true feelings by concealing your face with your cup. The tea has become lukewarm, dulling the flavors. The aftertaste of it is also bitter, making it a suitable representation of your current mood.

Is there really a point in hiding the truth? There shouldn’t be, not when there’s nothing between you and them.  

Yet, you’re doing it anyways.

‘Next week will be the start of Lutnus* and Mensis Messoris**. Cennet will be awake during the day… and since they’ve been in the mirror, they’ll be able to see her.’

Mensis Messoris is the only month that Cennet stays awake during the day, as people tend to be more superstitious during this month, likely due to the Remembrance Fete. Agatha also hosts an annual ‘Ghost Legends’ event at Mnesos, where she has the historians and curators talk to the guests about the more haunting stories of some artifacts within the museum. Of course, this includes the sentient aptets.

‘I should ask Agatha to let me visit the museum sometime this week so I can inform Cennet of the situation before she encounters any of them.’

She’d probably mock you for being foolish, but it’s likely she’ll comply with your request to hide the truth. There’s no guarantee, but Cennet has a soft heart.

“—maker?”

“Mm? Sorry, I got lost in thought,” you apologize and return your cup to its designated saucer. “Could you repeat what you said?”

“Are you feeling alright? Your complexion’s gone ashen,” Zayne earnestly repeats.

Now that he’s mentioned it, your hands have gotten clammy, and you’re starting to feel cold. “I wonder…I think, I’m just cold…”

You don’t notice how unsteady you look.

“Matchmaker!” Zayne nearly throws himself onto the table to catch your head before it crashes onto the table. His hand is warm and surprisingly soft.

You close your eyes and sigh. “I’m…going to rest for a bit. I’m sorry…”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Before Zayne could do anything, Caesar and Graham had whisked you away to the master bedroom.

It’s painfully obvious that you’re hiding something. While he isn’t someone to rely solely on gut instincts, he knows when to and when not to ignore them.

“Is this the first time something like this has happened?” Zayne asks Agatha as he brings the cups and plates to the sink. He’d rather be monitoring you, but Graham prevented him from entering the room, so all he could do was clean up the mess he made while trying to stop you from smacking your head against the table.

“She falls asleep as a side effect of using her ability, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary,” Agatha sighs. “Though, I am a bit worried.” She’s about to reach for the sponge when Zayne stops her.

“Let me take care of this.”

The museum director steps away and allows the cardiac surgeon to take over. After a few tense seconds, she finally reveals what she’s been thinking this whole time. “If you’re willing to stay by her side, I will fulfill one request of yours in the future.”

Chapter Text

The person you’re standing in front of has long, luxurious, pale cyan hair that flows down to their waist in gentle ripples and clear aquamarine eyes that glisten with mirth the way the sun dances upon a stream’s surfaces. They’re dressed in elegant robes made with fine lavender silk and jewelry comprised of platinum and emeralds. If anyone else was with you, they’d probably describe this person as the incarnation of the deity of love: Filia.

You could only see them as a fraudster. This person was none other than your mentor, Egan Lillibridge.

“Why did you have to come here?” You groan in your hands.

“I came to check on my cute apprentice since she’s been pushing herself too hard, and this is the reaction I get?” Egan gasps as he dramatically presses his hand against his chest. “You’re not being cute.”

“As if I’d try to be cute around you, you ancient creature.”

“Now you’re insulting me?! Just how unfilial are you planning to be!” Egan cries. He’s fully aware those crocodile tears don’t have an effect on you, yet he still shows them off at every opportunity he gets.

“I can’t believe there are people in this world you make a matchmaking appointment just to see you. You’re just a baby in an adult’s body. It’s a waste of such a beautiful face.”

Egan grins. “So you do think I’m beautiful.”

“Only when you keep your mouth shut, dearest mentor of mine.”

“You…”

It’s your turn to snicker. “What, this the first time someone’s ever said you had an annoying personality?”

He reaches over and ruffles your head. “Nope. You’re the third person actually. The other two are Diletta and the Commander of Vice.”

“You couldn’t behave yourself in front of the Commander of Vice? You’re really a creature with no fears.”

“Of course I have fears.” He ruffles your hair. “One is seeing you throwing yourself at something without any regards for your own safety.”

Your expression falters.

“Tell me, why did you do that? I taught you not to touch Life Bonds. Was the last time not enough of a lesson?”

You tighten your fists and stare down at your lap. You didn’t want to see his expression. “I didn’t die; isn’t that enough?”

“You’ve completely ruined your body. I don’t think you’ll be able to survive without relying on someone constantly healing you. Repairing a single, barely damaged Life Bond already left an irreversible mark on you, yet you went ahead and re-anchored five Life Bonds? And in mere hours?”

“I wasn’t going to leave them to die. You wouldn’t have either.”

“I would’ve been more cautious about it. You just completely broke your body. It’s a blessing that Fiordisipina’s Regeneration can keep up with your injuries.”

“…”

“Don’t use Bond Alteration ever again. I’m begging you.”

“Mentor, I became the Matchmaker. Not just any matchmaker— but the one who sits on the boundary between the under and overworld. I took over your position. There will always be a situation where I must alter bonds.” You don’t promise Egan the impossible. “But…I will keep my hands off Life Bonds from now on.”

You still refuse to look at your mentor. They gently take your shoulders with their hands and pull your body towards them. You allow them to embrace you.

‘Even though this is a dream, there’s the fragrance of peaches coming off their skin…’

You never figured out where Egan’s peach scent came from. Was it natural? Or perfume? One thing is certain: you’ve never managed to find something that smelled the same as they did.

You close your eyes and rub your forehead against Egan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Treat yourself better, and my grievances will fly away like a flock of cranes.” Egan tightens their hold around you before releasing you from their arms. They then proceed to ruffle your hair.

You finally turn your head to look at them. Without that stupid grin, they really resemble an ethereal fairy.

“Let’s hope I don’t see you for a while.”

Egan laughs, “You really know how to hurt my feelings, don’t you? But I agree. If I’m allowed to come into your dreams, that means you’ve done something stupid again, and I don’t want my apprentice to be doing stupid things.”

You don’t refute him. Not this time.

“Next time, let’s meet under the tree,” they whisper.

“…Yeah.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The dream leaves you disoriented, but not in the same way the previous one did. You wait for the initial dizziness to dissipate before cracking open your eyelids. You stare at the ceiling, confused as to why you weren’t being blinded by some fluorescent hospital lights.

‘Oh, right, the infusions.’

Caesar mentioned putting infusions in your fridge. He probably used them on you.

‘How long did I lose consciousness?’

It’s then when a door creaks open. You manage to lift your head slightly to see Zayne at the entrance to your room, blankly staring at you.

“Uh...? Hi?” You croak. ‘He’s still here?’

“You’re awake. That’s a relief.” He walks over to the bed and helps you sit up. “How are you feeling?”

“Achy.”

He nods. “You were unconscious for six days, so some muscle soreness is expected. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to perform a few checks on you. Just the standard ones you’d get during a physical.”

“That’s fine…”

He manually checks your blood pressure and heart rate with tools you assume are from Fiordispina. After that, he listens to your heart and lungs before examining your eyes, nose, and ears. He then proceeds to carefully press his fingers around your neck, behind your ears, and down your throat, checking for any signs of swelling and pain. You try not to lean into his soft yet firm touch.

After the physical exam, he has you complete a few cerebellar tests to test your coordination. You earnestly go through the motions of the finger-to-nose test, the Hoffman test, and a couple other ones, despite feeling a little awkward about it. He also tests your reflexes by tapping his stethoscope against your joints.

“Everything looks alright,” he tells you as he hangs the stethoscope around his neck. “You have some muscle atrophy, but that’s expected from your prolonged bed rest. After you’ve recovered some more, we can start some physical therapy to get you back… is there something wrong?”

You’re staring at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “You’re… coming back? Staying?”

“If you’re not comfortable with me staying and looking after you then I can—”

You shake your head. “No, no, that’s fine. I’m just surprised. I thought you’d rather be somewhere else. No one forced you to stay, right?”

That earns you a small huff. “I’m here by my own will,” he affirms.

Relief washes over you, and your body slumps against the pillows. “Good.”

“I know you just woke up, but are you interested in anything? Some food, water?”

“Something warm would be nice.”

“Then I’ll heat up some of the soup Miss Miller brought over the other day.”

“Speaking of that, how long was I asleep?” The tone you use is casual, as if you had just woken up from a nap.

‘She’s used to it.’ Zayne doesn’t like the thought that crosses his mind. He knows it’s normal for you, since Agatha told him, but he can’t help but feel concerned by how habitual your question is. “You’ve been asleep for five days.”

Five days. You suppose you should be grateful that it wasn’t another two weeks. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Before I forget, Miss Miller had a business event to attend to over the weekend, she brought the cats over earlier this morning. Unfortunately, I’m not sure where they are. They all ran out of the carriers as soon as I opened the door.”

“They’ll come out eventually, don’t worry about it. Just make sure to have some water and food in their bowls. I’m guessing Agatha brought over her two cats as well?”

“Yes. She’s also given me detailed instructions on how to take care of them.”

“Looks like she’s got you all set up for success.” Something tickles the back of your throat, and you quickly cover your mouth before a yawn takes over. “— Guess my body wants some more sleep…”

“Would you like to lay down?”

“No, I’ll just rest my eyes while sitting up.”

“I’ll come back after I heat up the soup then.”

“Mm…”

You listen to Zayne’s footsteps as he makes his way out of the room. Once he closes the door, you’re back to being all alone. You reach for one of the plushies you have on the bed and hug it, pressing your face into it in the process. There’s a faint fragrance of peonies.

‘The plushies must’ve absorbed the scent of the perfume… Wait—’ Your sleepiness is blown away when you come to a sudden realization. “If Zayne’s been taking care of me, then…”

Your cover’s been blown.

‘Unless someone’s been spraying from perfume on me while I was asleep…’ You shove your face deeper into the stuffed tempura shrimp. ‘It hasn’t even been a week, and I’ve already screwed up, haven’t I?’

Zayne seems to be the rational type. You don’t doubt that he knows you aren’t his ‘Darling.’ Still, you asked for the perfume so you wouldn’t inflict confusion and sorrow on them.

‘Maybe I should get a hairstyle change.’ You didn’t want to do that since it would require constant maintenance, but if you’re going to lose consciousness more frequently, it would be a better option.

Or you could just not go through all the hassle of doing that.

‘They probably love her too much to mistake me for her.’

You only saw one small memory, and yet you could tell how much they cared for Miss Hunter. They’re probably turning every rock over in Regina trying to find her or return to her side.

Their devotion is admirable. It almost makes you envious. Almost.

‘I’ll ask Zayne and decide.’

If he describes your appearance to be the exact same as Miss Hunter, then you won’t use the perfume. If he describes something different, then you’ll use the perfume and hope for the best.

‘I remember Mentor mentioning that there’s an antique watch that has potential to become a sentient aptet. I can’t ask them for the details, but I’m pretty sure I can get some help from Antares. If I’m going to the museum, I should also reach out to Cennet.’

If you wanted to go anywhere, you’d probably have to ask someone to take you. As much as you want to drive yourself, you’re not in the state to. Fiordispina would likely be willing, but you’ve already imposed on her enough. The same could be said for her assistants. Agatha is a possibility, but her schedule will start filling up soon. She was also just a busy woman in general. You weren’t close to Antares, so asking him to come and pick you up would be awkward. Technically, Acierno agreed to fulfill one of your requests after you helped them with a case involving a cult victim and their father, but it would be downright idiotic to use it to request a fifteen-minute taxi service.

Zayne…could probably drive, but he doesn’t have a license here, unless Caesar pulled some strings. Which, he might’ve. It’s easier to move around with an identification.

‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask him, but I’ve already lied to him about how they got here. Coming clean is also an option, but I really…really don’t want to. I’m afraid he might try to do something rash.’

The cardiac surgeon was rational, but he’s still human. Desperation can make any cool-headed person hot-headed and impulsive.

‘I’m going to get lectured for the rest of my life if any of them drop dead now.’ You could just imagine Agatha and Egan’s nagging.

“Urgh, let’s avoid that,” you groan.

There’s a quiet knock on your door.

“You can come in.” You return the tempura shrimp back to its place on the bed.

Zayne opens the door. “Would you like to eat in the dining room or in bed?”

“The dining room, please. I don’t like taking my meals here.”

He nods and proceeds to push a wheelchair into the bedroom. “Graham dropped this off a couple of days ago. He said it’s been adjusted to work on your carpets.”

With some help from the cardiac surgeon, you manage to get in the wheelchair. He pushes you out to the dining table, where one of the chairs has been removed to accommodate you.

You take the time to peer out the sliding doors. The sky is clear and blue, the trees are gently swaying in the wind, and there’s even a couple of deer munching on the grass just outside of the grove. As you’re admiring the scenery, Zayne brings over your meal: a bowl of roasted red pepper and tomato soup, a small plate of orange and banana slices, a glass of water, and what looks like a drinkable supplement.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” He warns you before taking a seat beside you.

It feels awkward to have him watching you while you eat, but since you don’t want any trouble, you take your time with the meal. The peppers and tomatoes give the soup a natural, subtle sweetness that makes your tastebuds sing, and while there’s not as much salt as you’re used to, there is enough to give it a hint of complexity. You suspect the base of the soup is chicken broth, as there’s a hint of umami or savoriness to it. It’s a perfect meal for the season.

‘This would go well with Chester’s signature grilled cheese. I should tell him about it. Plus, he was looking for another soup to add to Uncle Willard’s diet. If a doctor’s feeding it to me now, I’m sure it’s good for a cancer patient.’

Chester’s a university friend. He was originally a concierge at the renowned Merlin Hotel in the Inner City, but he quit and took over his father’s diner business. You don’t go to the Junes District often, but you always make sure to go to his place for a meal whenever you’re there. Your favorite meal isn’t the sandwiches or the skillets; it’s the crepes. The last time you went, he whipped up a delightful strawberry rhubarb compote with some Chantilly cream for you. The tart rhubarb chunks were your favorite.

‘A pistachio cream and hazelnut chocolate crepe would be good. Maybe I’ll request it the next time I’m there.’ With that thought, you finish the soup and move on to the nutritional supplement after taking a healthy gulp of water to cleanse your palate.

‘As expected, they’re different.’ Zayne thinks as he watches you reach for the bitter supplement. Miss Hunter would’ve avoided the supplement at all costs. She’d probably complain the moment she saw it, but you took it without much thought.

The night you collapsed, he learned about the perfume after agreeing to watch over you. After stabilizing you, Graham came out of the room and explained the situation to him.

“She won’t be happy if she ever finds out I told you this, but it’s important.” Graham prefaces. “Her ability causes her to fall asleep after she’s done using it. Occasionally, she can end up witnessing people’s memories. It’s not something she can control.”

He lowers his voice. “According to Fior, Miss Matchmaker witnessed one of your memories and saw a woman who looks remarkably similar to her.”

A crease forms between Zayne’s eyebrows. “I don’t recall her resembling anyone I’m familiar with…”

“It’s because your senses are being manipulated by the perfume she’s wearing. Serendipity, the girl who was behind Miss Matchmaker when you met her earlier today, has a special ability that allows her to make perfumes that can distort perception of the wearer. The caveat is that the perfumes only work on people who don’t realize their perception is being skewed. Now that I’ve told you about it, the perfume shouldn’t influence you.”

Zayne didn’t believe it at first, but when he checked on you the next morning, your appearance had completely changed, and you looked exactly like Miss Hunter. It unnerved him and honestly took him a few days to get over it. He was glad you hadn’t woken up sooner, because he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to keep his composure around you.

He doesn’t know what memory you saw, and he isn’t planning on asking, at least for now. As a doctor, he doesn’t want to cause you distress and delay your recovery.

A shiver runs down your spine, causing you to tense up.

“Are you cold?” Zayne asks in a soft voice.

“A little?” You’re not sure, but you have goosebumps. He gets up and grabs the shawl you always have on the couch and gingerly places it over your shoulders. “Thank you.”

He returns to his seat. “You’re welcome.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Rafayel doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t care either. He’s barely aware of the blinding lights, roaring music, and endless crowd surrounding him. All he can think about is the emptiness in his chest.

“Where have you gone, my bride…?”

Chapter Text

After your meal and much needed shower, Zayne helped you get to the living room to enjoy the natural sunlight. You ended up sending a couple of messages and making some phone calls for work, just to keep your clients updated on your situation and to make the necessary rescheduling/cancellations. You put on a random show for some background noise.

When you were done with your tasks for the day, you found yourself staring at the beginning of a tragedy.

“…And when she dies, there will be nothing left of her; not even her soul.”

The knight on screen stares at the tree spirit in dismay. “Is there no way to prevent this?”

“Are you willing to throw away your ambitions? To abandon the princess you’ve embarked on this journey for?”

“I— I…” the knight looks down at the ground and clenches his fist. “I cannot. She means more to me than anything else in this universe.”

“Then there is no other option for her. No one else can pay the price for awakening your princess.”

Conflict is written all over the knight’s face. He’s stuck between his morals and his loyalty. It doesn’t come as a surprise to the spirit, who calmly watches the knight fight through his internal dilemma.

“Sinatle accepted her fate from the moment she agreed to help you.”

“Is it right to save a life by sacrificing another?” You murmur to no one in particular.

“Medically speaking, no, it is not.” You turn your head to see Zayne standing up the stairs that lead to the upper floor. He’s holding a file full of papers and a couple of journals. “Sacrificing lends itself to be a situation where the donor does not consent to having their life used to help the recipient. No respectable medical professional would approve of it.”

You hum as you bring your knees closer to your chest. “Even if it’ll save their loved ones?”

“Even then.” Zayne takes a seat on the other side of the couch. The distance between you two is respectable; it’s clear that you’re closer to strangers than friends. “…Is that a value not maintained within medical professionals here?”

A laugh escapes from you. “It is, at least for the civilian ones. As for the underworld ones, I’d say most of them are motivated by profit, but there’s definitely a couple oddballs.”

“The underworld? As in organized crime?”

‘…? Did Fiordispina not tell them?’ You scratch the side of your face with your pointer finger. “Yeah. Did Fiordispina not tell you?”

The organized crime society is a major part of Regina, but due to Vice and a few government agencies, the boundary between civilians and mobsters is maintained very strictly.

“She might have, but I do not recall anything of the sort.”

“The underworld is prevalent in this city, but it’s closely monitored by what I like calling ‘public order organizations.’ On the civilian side, there’s the Public Safety and Disease Management Agency and standard law enforcement. On the mobster side, there’s Vice. Vice detains mobsters that disrupt civilian peace to prevent them from falling into the hands of law enforcement,” you ramble as you return your eyes onto the TV. You aren’t processing what’s happening on screen, but it would be inappropriate to look at Zayne for any longer. “Having Vice at your door isn’t a good thing— for anyone. For civilians, it means you’ve interacted with the underworld enough to be marked on their radar. For mobsters, it means you’ve broken one of the few rules there are.”

“You know quite a bit about this.” What he’s implying is obvious.

“I’m an ‘associate.’ I stand on the boundary line between both societies. I can freely offer my services to civilians and mobsters alike without any organization breathing down my neck, though they do keep an eye on me. Just think of me as a civilian with a couple extra privileges and connections.”

“I see. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Hmm… Don’t run away or try to fight Vice? Most of them will have a bone flower accessory attached to their clothes. It’ll make you suspicious, even if you are genuinely a civilian. Cooperate with them, and it should be fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You hear his pen scribbling something down. “Oh, and if you’re interested in continuing your work as a doctor, I can probably get you into one of the hospitals. It wouldn’t be through very legal means though.”

Clementine is a law-abiding healthcare system founded by the Acierno Family, who also happens to be one of the most ‘prestigious’ organized crime groups in Regina. Most of their clinical sites are clean, but they have a handful of “mid-ground” clinics, that you could slip Zayne into. They won’t question him as long as he has the skills, it’d just use up the favor you had with Acierno’s heir.

“There’s no need, at least for now.”

Is he talking about you, or just in general? Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Just let me know.”

Plink.

You grab your work phone to check the notification.

[🍊: It looks like you’ve brought in some guests to Regina.]

[🍊: Hate to tell you this while you’re still in recovery, but it looks like one of them got caught up with ⛓️.]

Well, well, well. Speak of them, and they shall appear.

You place your other hand on your phone and start typing with both of your thumbs. [You: Thank you for informing me.]

Your response was calm, but you were cursing up a storm inside your head. The storm wasn’t too visible, but Zayne could see your tense shoulders and terrible posture as you brought your phone closer to your face.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah…” you mutter. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s ‘shit hit the fan’ bad or ‘raccoons rummaged through the dumpster’ bad.”

[🍊: It might’ve been a personal decision of one of the agents, hard to say. 🐥 was rushing into the headquarters when she saw me and told me to tell you.]

You resist the urge to groan. ‘This isn’t going to end well, is it?’

A rhetorical question, because hardly anything ends well with Vice involved.

“Zayne, I’m sorry, but could you take me to this location? There’s an emergency I need to take care of.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Luckily, for Zayne the illegal driver, driving laws are essentially the same as Linkon’s. He diligently drives, using the gps on your car, while sneaking glances at you here and there. Your eyes are closed, but you aren’t asleep. He could tell from the way you breathe.

Judging by your silent urgency, the situation must be a ‘shit hit the fan’ bad. You also put on the perception-altering perfume, which meant that one of the other guys was involved. The outfit you picked out was simple and formal, like you were about to go to court, but the location on the gps was unnamed.

‘Did one of them get in trouble with Vice?’ Zayne wouldn’t put it past them. His first thought was Sylus, but the man wouldn’t get caught unless it was on his terms or the agents somehow overpowered him. It could be any of them, really. None of them are innocent, including Zayne himself.

“You’ve just woken up today, is there really a need for you to resolve this now?” He asks.

“Serendipity got involved. I can’t leave everything to her. The lodging over there isn’t the most comfortable either.”

“Serendipity?”

“The woman who was behind me when we first met. Her brother is the big boss of the place we’re visiting. He’s relatively reasonable, so I’m not exactly concerned about him. It’s that maze maker I’m concerned about. Sometimes her Game Master persona takes over and she just uses her ability on whoever she’s interested in. You can’t teleport out or destroy her mazes once you’re inside, and she always makes them so damn difficult…”

“Sounds like you’ve had a bad experience with them.”

“They’re meant to trap the high-risk criminals. I was thrown in one because the game master thought my sequela was fun after I helped her and the heir get out of a trap house.” Your body involuntarily shivers at the memory of the labyrinth she made for you. “Being stuck in one is almost the worst thing in the world, so don’t use your ability around her.”

You open your eyes just in time to see Vice’s building coming into view. It’s inconspicuous; if you hadn’t known what the building was for, it just looked like your normal office building in the Inner City.

“Cinnabar Bride is about a block over from here; let’s have dinner there tonight. I want to treat you to the terrentine.”

“Just make sure to order something light. Your stomach might not take it well otherwise.”

“Yes, doctor.” You aren’t planning on ordering anything besides Diletta’s pork soup with carrots and yams. “Oh, and turn in here. We’re going to use the underground parking lot.”

You rummage through your purse for your wallet and quickly grab a gray keycard. “Here, scan this.”

Zayne takes the card as he stops in front of the barricade. He rolls down the window and hovers the card in front of the scanner.

“Welcome,” The barricade lifts, allowing Zayne to pull into the underground parking lot. He returns the card to you, and you shove it back into your wallet.

Plink. Your phone goes off as Zayne is parking the car.

[Antares: I’ll be in the museum all night; this restoration is more complicated than I originally thought. You’re welcome to come tonight if you’d like. I don’t think Cennet will be awake until 9 pm though.]

Before you left for Vice, you messaged Antares to see if he was available later tonight. The Mnesos Museum was also in the Inner City, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he’d be there.

[You: I’ll let you know if I can come over once I’m done with some last-minute business. Good luck with the restoration.]

You turn off your phone and return it to your purse. ‘Everything will be just fine.’

Zayne opens the door for you and helps you into the wheelchair, which was a nonnegotiable when you asked him to take you out.

“I thought it was your car that pulled in, Matchmaker.”

Both of you turn your heads to see a person wearing a dark taupe suit and a fedora. It’s Cielo Acierno— the heir to the Acierno Family. They were the ones who informed you about one of your ‘guests’ getting caught up with Vice.

“Heir? I thought you had already left?”

“I planned on leaving, then I got caught up talking to a couple acquaintances. After that, I saw your car and decided to wait a bit longer to check if it was actually you.” Cielo walked up to you and leaned down. “Your perfume today is nice. Is it one of Serendipity’s blends?”

“Yes.”

They stand upright and make eye contact with Zayne. “And who is this gentleman? I don’t recognize him.”

“He’s the doctor who’s been taking care of me. I’m not exactly in the condition to wander around by myself at the moment.”

Cielo holds their hand out towards Zayne. They shake hands with each other.

“Hello, I’m Zayne,” Zayne introduces himself.

“I’m Cielo; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Zayne shakes his head. “She’s helped me out quite a bit. I’m just returning the favor.”

Cielo hums but doesn’t comment any further. Instead, they reach into their pocket and pull out two tickets. “Here’s a little get-well gift from me. It’s for Ryan Geier’s Marine Treasures Auction that’s taking place next week at Sapphira’s Auction Hall. Some last-minute plans came up, so I can’t attend anymore. I hope you can make use of them, Matchmaker.”

A rush of adrenaline shoots through you when you accept the tickets. That’s not the feeling you want when receiving a gift from someone like Cielo.

“If you decide to go and something happens, just let me know. Now, have a good time with our peacekeepers.”

They wave as they walk over to their car, which is parked adjacent to yours. You slip the tickets into the front pocket of your purse and sigh. “I go outside to handle one issue, only for another one to pop up. I should’ve stayed asleep.”

The last part is a joke, for the most part.

You tilt your head upwards and smile and Zayne. “Let’s go and get this over with.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The receptionist that guided you to the meeting room opens the door for you and Zayne after informing those inside of your arrival. You immediately make eye contact with Serendipity. She doesn’t bother to conceal her concern for you, but she does resist the urge to run up to you and check on your condition. You silently greet her with a nod before examining the rest of the people in the room.

Unfortunately, the woman you didn’t want to see, Francetic, is present. Her glasses don’t do anything to hide the mirth dancing through her eyes; she’s entertained by the whole situation. Phyllis, Francetic’s grandmother and Vice’s head toxicologist, and Donovan, the commander’s adjunct, are also present.

‘Why is Phyllis here?’ There should be no reason for the toxicologist to be in the meeting room. It isn’t like you didn’t enjoy her presence, but it just didn’t make any sense. Unless…

Your gaze falls onto the large paper maze sitting on the table.

“What’s the situation?” Your voice is level and calm as you’re pushed up to the table. You motion Zayne to come take a seat beside you.

Donovan slides a couple of files towards you. You lift them up one by one and read the contents. ‘Trespassing, unauthorized liquidation of Aberrants, destruction of Aptet Stones… and this picture is of Xavier…’

The person stuck inside the maze is most likely Xavier. There’s still a chance that it’s not, but the images were high quality enough for you to confidently say it’s him. You drop the papers and return them to Donovan with Zayne’s help. You don’t let your panic show, because you know it’d rile Francetic even more.

“We were planning on detaining him using more standard means,” Donovan elaborates. “But he proved to be a difficult opponent.”

“So you requested Francetic for assistance?”

“No, we had reached out to Phyllis for a sedative. Francetic is currently in probation.”

“You sedated him and then she got her hands on him?”

The adjunct nods. “Yes. Norman was transporting him to one of the private rooms when she ambushed him.”

“No. He was the one who reported the situation and apprehended her.”

On most days, Francetic is wonderful to be around. She’s diligent, trustworthy, and incredibly detail oriented. But during the last week of each season, Francetic’s mind is essentially taken over by the aptets that reside within her brain. She loses control of herself and turns into a thrill-seeking Game Master. You don’t know what Vice usually does to restrict her movements during this time, but they avoid dispatching her. You would’ve never met the Game Master had Francetic not been trapped with Cielo for three days; it was simply terribly bad timing.

The mazes the Game Master makes are volatile and the epitome of insanity. If you don’t die from the traps, you’ll likely die from the maze collapsing. Even Vice doesn’t use these mazes on those they consider ‘extremely high risk.’ They have no reason to, because Francetic’s normal mazes are enough to drive someone insane.

“Is Xavier by himself?” This time, you don’t bother to the displeasure bubbling up inside of you. Sure, you were no match for anyone in this room, not even the delicate-looking Serendipity, but there are still ways you can mess with them.

“No,” Donovan clarifies without missing a beat, “the Commander is with him. Your guest might’ve violated some rules, but he’s still classified as a civilian. His detainment this time was intended to be a warning, not punishment.”

“—Hey!”

You snap your head in Francetic direction. In truth, she’s been talking this whole time, you’ve just been ignoring her. But now, she sounds genuinely irate.

She calms down a bit when she receives your attention. “Don’t ignore me like that, Matchmaker. It’ll tempt me into adding a few more bonuses to my creation.”

“I don’t think your boss would be quite pleased with any more surprises, so let’s refrain from doing that.”

“That’s right, Fran,” Phyllis agrees. “You wouldn’t want to upset the Commander more than you have. He’ll take away all your paper and ink.”

“He’s the one who’s trapped me in that stupid room all week!” Francetic pouts. “I was getting terribly bored. Then, I overheard Luke and Hestia talking about some trespasser who got into Zone M6 and survived without a scratch on their body! There was no way I’d be able to sit still after hearing that.”

Xavier is a competent fighter. You knew from second-hand experience through that memory.

‘This is worse than I thought.’ The stronger, and thus more interesting, the Game Master deems her target to be, the harder the maze becomes. It’s no wonder the Commander himself stepped in.

You look at Serendipity. “Did you ask your brother for help?”

She shakes her head. “No, he called me just before he entered the maze. I came on my own accord. I was hoping to make a deal with Fran, but she rejected it.”

To make a deal with the Game Master to alter her maze, you needed to be someone worthy. It’s an arbitrary choice— you never know when she’ll choose to accept or refuse. Once she rejects you, you can’t push the deal. She’ll just throw you into the maze and watch you suffer.

‘The Game Master holds Serendipity in high regard, mostly because Francetic herself admires her. I’m not sure if she’ll be willing to strike a deal with me, but it’s worth a try.’

Seraph is strong, but he’s being handicapped by Xavier, who’s more than likely still unconscious; Phyllis’s sedatives are basically elephant tranquilizers.

“Francetic, will you play a game with me? If I win, you’ll give me free reign over the maze.”

Francetic rests her shackled arms on the table. “What happens if I win?”

“I’ll give you my eyes.”

Chapter Text

“You’re willing to give up something so precious?” A predatory glint made its way into Francetic’s gaze as her body practically vibrated with excitement.

Despite what the others in the room might be thinking, you didn’t make this decision out of your usual impulsiveness. You haven’t lost your mind either. By putting your eyes on the table, you’ve created an irresistible deal with the Game Master. While she loves it when people manage to escape her mazes, she also loves collecting people’s sequela. No matter what happens, it’s a win-win situation for her. In her eyes, it would be crude to let someone alter her game, which is why you need to be worthy of making a deal with her.

Worthiness aside, you know your vision is something she desires. Not just for her collection, but for her personal use. She’s probably witnessed you utilizing it multiple times through video records and paper reports— Vice has used your services multiple times over the years. Francetic’s position in the organization is high enough for her to access the archives without explicit permission. Not to mention the one time you helped her and Cielo escape; you couldn’t forget that unadulterated elation that bounced in her eyes as she trapped you in that stupid maze to test your limits and that slight disappointment in her expression when you managed to escape.

“I was hoping I’d be able to keep your eyes.”

She could refuse you, but she won’t. She wouldn’t dare, not when you rarely appear before her like this.

“What I want is full control over your maze, of course I have to put something of equal value onto the table.” You place your hand just under your eyes. “A sequela over a sequela— isn’t that perfect?”

Francetic erupts with laughter. “How delightful! You always bring me so much joy, Matchmaker.”

“Bringing joy to people is my job.” You return your hand to your lap.

“Then I hope you can bring me even more joy with this game.”

You don’t let your relief show. “What shall we play?”

The Game Master leans back in her chair and contemplates for a few seconds before responding, “Why don’t we play a game of War? We can borrow Donovan’s deck.”

“Must you offer up my tool of trade for your game?” Donovan exasperates. He still reaches into his pocket and retrieves the deck of cards he always has on hand. You aren’t sure how he uses them, but you know he needs them for his sequela. “I’ll shuffle and deal the cards.”

As Donovan shuffles the cards, Zayne taps on your shoulder. Judging from his expression, he has a lot of say, but he condenses everything down to one simple sentence, “You’re overdoing it.”

If you waited, there’s a chance that Seraph will escape with Xavier in tow, but you didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m not,” you reassure him, though he doesn’t seem to believe you, seeing how the crease between his eyebrows had grown deeper upon hearing your words. The urge to press your finger against the crease overcomes you, but you resist it. It’s too intimate. Only the woman in that dream would be allowed to do something like that. “I’ll be fine.”

As unlucky as you may seem, in your most recent gacha session, you got the featured character in thirty pulls— including their weapon! Sure, that was over a month ago at this point and you’ve been stuck in a coma and your body nearly shut down on multiple occassions, but still. Your luck has always come through in moments like these.

“The rank of the cards, from highest to lowest, are King, Queen, Jack, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and Ace.” Donovan deals the last two cards of the deck before taking a step back from the table. “May Vaut bless you this evening. You may begin the match.”

In War, a deck of cards is divided evenly between the players. In this case, each player has received 26 cards. Each player places their stack of cards face down in front of them. To play, each player turns up a card at the same time. The player with the higher card takes both cards and places them face down on the bottom of their stack.

In cases where the cards are of the same rank, it is War. Each player draws one card from their deck, leaving it face down, and then draws another face up. The player with the higher ranked card wins all six cards. If the turned-up card is the same rank again, then they will draw 2 cards, one face down and the other face up. The player with the higher card will win and take all the cards in the piles. The goal is to be the first player to win all 52 cards.

There are variations of this game such as Quadruple War and Peace, but War is by far the most popular within Regina.

‘This would be a good game to play when I’m killing time at home. I wonder if Zayne would be willing to play with me,’ you muse to yourself as you reach out to your deck and draw a card.

(You – Francetic)

2 – 2

“First round and we’re already at War?” The Game Master snickers, clearly amused by the situation.

“Perhaps it’s a sign,” you hum as you draw your cards.

7 – K

“Let’s hope it’s a good one.” Francetic takes the pile and places them at the bottom of her deck after a quick shuffle.

J – 6

4 – 3

A – 7

5 – 9

J – 10

10 – 9

2 – 4

3 – 3

It’s War.

K – 3

You take the cards.

10 – 10

“Another one?” Francetic chuckles at the sight of another tie.

Q – 5

“Another one.” You take the cards with a gentle smile.

Francetic scoffs at your obvious taunt. “Careful now; you’re going bite more off than you can chew.”

‘I’m used to that.’

2 – 7

8 – 7

6 – 9

K – 4

5 – Q

A – 5

J – 8

4 – A

6 – A

“It’s unfortunate that aces are the weakest in Don’s rules.”

“You only say that because you lost, Francetic,” Don interjects.

The Game Master rolls her eyes. “When else am I going to say it? When I win?”

Q – 6

K – 5

4 – 5

9 – A

10 – K

J – 2

6 – Q

J – 4

J – 5

8 – 2

A – 7

6 – 9

“Don, are these cards trying to tell us something?” Francetic turns to the adjunct with a stoic face. “This is the second time.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” Don frowns and glares at shackled Vice agent to express his displeasure. “It’s just probability.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Fran, keep your teasing to a minimum,” Phyllis gently scolds. “Don is plenty stressed as it is.”

“I was trying loosen him up.”

“Fran.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

6 – 2

Q – 2

J – 7

A – 8

4 – 9

3 – A

10 – Q

K – 7

4 – 6

10 – Q

3 – 6

5 – 5

“We’re finally back at war with each other, Matchmaker.”

“I was wondering if we used up all of our chances at the beginning of the game,” you admit. “But it looks like we hadn’t.”

“How many more opportunities do you think we still have?”

3 – A

You take the cards. “Hmm, maybe two?”

“Two sounds good, but I hope there’s more.”

You don’t.

10 – 4

8 – 6

Q – 4

7 – Q

8 – 10

3 – 10

9 – 6

“Oh, it’s flipped this time. What a pity.”

A – K

5 – 7

“If only you had the nine instead of the six a couple rounds ago,” you sigh, feigning disappointment. “You would’ve won 5 rounds in a row.”

“It’s truly unfortunate.” Francetic plays along, feigning her own disappointment.

6 – 4

A – 9

J – 3

6 – Q

2 – 7

A – K

2 – A

8 – 7

2 – 5

9 – 10

K – 10

A – 9

Q – A

8 – 6

4 – Q

3 – 8

K – 10

Serendipity decides to leave the room. “I’ll go make some hot tea for everyone. It’s a bit chilly in here.”

Zayne looks down at his arms and notices the slight frost on his skin. He quickly reigns his Evol in and pats his sleeve dry. No one notices that he’s the cause of the sudden drop in temperature inside the room.

K – 3

5 – 4

9 – A

7 – 10

8 – 2

J – K

5 – A

3 – 6

Q – 3

5 – Q

7 – 9

J – 8

9 – 9

“War!”

6 – 7

“And I won it this time!”

Despite the situation, you find Francetic’s joyous grin to be quite adorable.

J – 6

4 – 2

4 – Q

10 – 7

K – 9

5 – 9

2 – 3

2 – Q

7 – 5

8 – 10

A – 7

7 – 7

J – J

A double draw? That doesn’t happen quite often for you. How exciting.

9 – 4

A – 4

9 – 9

Q – 8

“Another war one by you, Matchmaker. Maybe you should consider joining the military at this point.”

“Even when I’m at my healthiest, I can barely run up a flight of stairs without sounding like a dying donkey. If I joined our military, I would die in three seconds.”

10 – 2

K – Q

3 – A

A – 3

10 – 2

Q – 10

8 – 8

6 – A

“Matchmaker, you must be Vaut or Ilga’s bride; you’ve won so many wars. There’s no way you aren’t blessed by either god.”

“The world would cry if someone like me was a god’s bride. I think Vaut just took pity on me since I’m all weak and feeble at the moment.”

“Hah! You’re so funny.”

J – 3

3 – 4

10 – 3

Q – 4

You place the last cards at the bottom of your deck, officially completing it. The Game Master sighs in defeat, “I was hoping I’d win. Your eyes would’ve been such a delightful addition to my collection.”

The Game Master is by no means fair, but she takes her losses with dignity, much to everyone’s relief. Phyllis pats Francetic on the head. Francetic leans into her grandmother’s hand.

“You did well,” the older lady praises.

You slide the deck over to its owner, who slips it back into its case. Donovan returns the cards into his pocket and clears his throat.

“Yes, yes. A deal’s a deal,” Francetic huffs. “I’ll let the Matchmaker alter this maze as she sees fit. Give me a pen and some liquid corrector.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

For Francetic’s mazes, all she needs is a canvas of any sort and her imagination. Ink isn’t necessary for the process, though a physical medium is. She uses pens to draw out her mazes for the convenience of others rather than out of necessity.

“What changes do you want me to make?” The Game Master looks at you as she prepares her materials.

“Remove everything, leaving only the outer borders of the maze.”

Francetic glares at you. “Sweetie, I know the deal entails giving you free reign over my work, but I’m not going to let you completely remove—”

You cut her off. “Add ten monsters and ten traps of your choosing. Let’s see how good your imagination is outside of maze planning.”

“…You are absolutely ridiculous.”

Your back muscles tense up. Francetic… looks like she wants to cut your head open and examine your brain.

“Aren’t you always looking for more ways to improve? Why not test the limits of your own abilities in a way you’ve never done before?” You say with a tight smile. You can’t let her know you’re feeling intimated.

The Game Master looks down at her latest creation. It’s wonderfully made. The complexity, the traps…everything was created in a way where hope and suffering were in a constant tango. Destroying it all to add a few monsters and traps was crude and cruel. That was like asking a loving parent to maim their child.

But it’s an interesting idea. Francetic can’t deny that.

You always knew how to tickle her curiosity in ways she’s never considered before. It’s a shame that she didn’t think of this sooner. Just how many more sequelae could she have collected, had she added beasts into her mazes? Would she have been able to collect yours?

Zayne pulls your wheelchair away from the table. Neither you or Francetic noticed that the latter had been leaning over the table, closing the distance between you. Had he not moved you away, who knows what she would’ve done. Not that Donovan and Phyllis would let her, but that’s besides the point.

“Are you going to do what she requested?” Zayne doesn’t remove the glare that made its way to his face.

Francetic pulls herself back to her side of the table. “Yes, yes; I’ll do it. Just know there won’t be a second time.”

Serendipity returns just in time to witness Francetic covering the maze with liquid corrector. She hands everyone a cup of rose tea before walking up to Donovan to get updated on the situation. She shoots you a look that’s a mix of gratitude, disappointment, and relief.

You take a drink of the tea in response. ‘Let’s pray the Commander successfully escapes before the Game Master recreates Ilga or Tryans.’

A few moments later, there’s a blond man fast asleep with his head on your lap and his body awkwardly draped over your legs. He had been launched out of the maze, and miraculously landed on you instead of the floor or anywhere else really. Luckily, you had handed your cup to Zayne beforehand so Xavier didn’t get a face full of warm liquid and porcelain. The other individual who came out of the maze landed beside Serendipity, who gracefully greeted him with a soft smile. “Good evening, brother Seraph.”

“Thanks for coming, Seren.” The man returns the greeting with his own before turning around to face the crowd. “Phyllis, Donovan, escorts Francetic back to the room. Donovan, punish Hestia and Luke as you see fit. Inform Urin come to my office in thirty minutes.”

Less than ten seconds since his arrival and the man is already barking out orders. As expected of the Commander.

Francetic grumbles as she’s being ushered out of the room, but she doesn’t fight it, probably because she’s exhausted from remaking the maze.

Seraph approaches you. He’s always towered over you, but it’s worse now, as you’re stuck in a chair.  “Thank you for your help, Matchmaker. I presume you’re the one who had Francetic to change her maze.”

“I should be thanking for you risking your life to help my guest. I saw that he was causing some trouble in your territory too…” Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re already combing through Xavier’s hair with your fingers.

“Trespassing into Zone M6 and exterminating Aberrants without approval are violations, but it is more of a safety concern when it comes to civilians. Matters regarding his detainment went awry due to negligence on our side. With that, along with the fact that you’re acquainted with him, I’ll let him off the hook this time around.”

“I’ll explain the situation to him once he wakes up,” you promise.

Seraph nods. “If you would. Feel free to stay in this room until he wakes up. I will be returning to my duties.”

Just before the door closes behind him, you hear him say, “And don’t try to do any more stunts— Vaut’s will only bless the reckless so many times.”

‘Again with the gods and their blessings…’

“Sorry, he left like a storm,” Serendipity apologizes as she starts cleaning up the table.

“It’s not a problem. Being the boss of an organization of this size makes you busy.”

Zayne joins in on the conversation. “He’s also someone who understands limits.”

You snap your head up in Zayne’s directions. “I know my limits!”

“I wouldn’t have guessed, seeing that you just made a deal with your eyes on the line.”

“I was so nervous for you,” Serendipity confesses. “If my ability could affect inanimate objects, I would’ve rigged the game in your favor! That was such a ridiculous deal.”

“I only offered my eyes because I knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse the offer. Do you think I’d give up my tool of trade at easily otherwise?” Your cheeks puff out a little. How dare they assume you’d throw your life away like that.

Serendipity stares at you like you’ve grown a second head and three sets of horns. You can’t help but shrink into your chair.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry! I’ll try not to do it again!” You raise you arms up in defeat, which inadvertently causes your hand to hit Zayne’s torso. “Oh! Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he says before maneuvering himself around you and kneels beside the still unconscious Xavier. “Let’s lay him down on some chairs. This position isn’t good for his spine.”

Serendipity lines up some chairs as Zayne lifts Xavier off you. He lays the blond on the chairs, making sure to adjust Xavier’s posture so he doesn’t accidentally fall off and crack his skull open.

“Grandma Phyllis’ sedatives can last a while, but I’m sure he should be awake in the next hour or so,” Serendipity estimates. “I can’t imagine she provided them with anything above a mid-tier one.”

“A mid-tier sedative is enough to incapacitate a B rank Aberrant… I hope they didn’t use it on someone they deemed a civilian,” you mumble.

Xavier is definitely strong enough to warrant a mid-tier sedative, but it would be irresponsible for Vice to use such a potent drug on him, especially since he was deemed a civilian.

“May I ask what Aberrants are?” Zayne asks as steps away from Xavier and returns to your side.

“When something gets infected by an aptet, there’s potential for them to die, survive and obtain a sequelae, or to die and mutate into an Aberrant. You can think of them has beings that have mutated into monsters, almost like a zombie,” you explain. “Vice is also in charge of detaining Aberrants, mainly because it can be hard to determine if someone is an aberrant or if their sequelae cause them to have mutated features. The government works with them to handle this, but it’s mostly under Vice’s care since they have the technology and power to handle it.”

“I see.”

“Just to keep things clear, Xavier didn’t kill any undetermined Aberrants or humans. Zone M6 holds confirmed A-rank Aberrants. Oh, and the Aberrants are raked depending on their overall strength and their abilities.. I’m not too sure about the details though.”

“A-rank is the second strongest rank,” Serendipity elaborates. “S is the strongest. Those get housed in zones M8 and M9. The other ranks are D, C, and B. The researchers also test whether they’re friendly, neutral, or hostile. Hostile ones generally get liquidated, but the friendly and neutral ones stay within the zones for further monitoring. There has been theories that Aberrants can ‘regain’ their consciousness and individual identity, so we try not to kill them.”

“I presume I’ll be able to find research papers on this topic online?” There’s a hint of interest in his voice.

“Yes. Iridian University’s library database is available to the public, so you should use that. If there happens to be an article you’re interested in but can’t access, you can contact Fior. She’ll likely have access to the documents.”

“I should have some books in the storage room downstairs. You can go down there whenever you want,” you say as you rub your neck. “Not sure if they’ll be useful though. My mentor just left me with them and I haven’t bothered looking through them.”

You’ve been busy with the matchmaking business after all.

“Mm…”

A new voice enters the conversation. You all look over to see Xavier covering his eyes with his arm to block out the light.

“Where…”

Chapter Text

A voice, one reminiscent of maple leaves basking in the golden moonlight, flutters into Xavier’s sleep-muddled brain. His body feels like it’s been injected with lead; it takes most of his energy to lift his arm up to block the light out. His breath hitches as a jolt of pain shoots through his neck.

‘An old man appeared out of nowhere and managed to tackle me…then he injected me with something…’

“Where…” Xavier forces his eyelids to open and is immediately greeted with a white ceiling and nauseating fluorescent lights.

“Looks like you’re awake.” A familiar, icy voice slips into Xavier’s senses. He turns his head to see Zayne standing beside you. Despite it only being a week since he’s last seen you, you’ve gotten notably thinner.

He silently watches you as you approach him, using your delicate arms to push the wheelchair. Once you’ve closed the distance enough for him to smell that familiar fragrance of pears and peonies, you ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Sluggish,” he quietly admits. He’s too exhausted to think of any lies. “It’s like there’s rocks on top of me.”

“That makes sense, seeing that they used quite the sedative on you. It’ll take a while longer for it to get out of your system.”

“A sedative…?”

“You wandered into private property and started killing Aberrants off without permission. They had every right to knock you out.” You’re tempted to flick Xavier on the forehead, but you resist the urge. You two aren’t close enough for that. “Luckily, their plans got severely derailed because of one of their agents. Serendipity kindly explained your situation to the Commander, so you’re basically a free man. With that being said, you’re going to be stuck with me for at least the next couple of days so I can properly explain the rules to you.”

Really, you shouldn’t have let them run off like that in the first place, even if you were irked by their words.

“It would be best for you to come along. With those bags, it’s obvious you haven’t been sleeping properly.” Zayne doesn’t hesitate to point out the bruise-like darkening beneath Xavier’s eyes. The way he’s glaring at Xavier also tells him that he’s not in a position to object.

“If you enjoy stars, the night sky is very beautiful at the Matchmaker’s house. She lives in a neighborhood that isn’t affected by light pollution.” Serendipity chips in as she pops into Xavier’s view with a trayful of mostly empty teacups. “She also has plenty of lovable kitties to keep you company.”

“If you agree to come, I’ll treat you to something delicious tonight,” you add on one last bribe to hopefully persuade the half-asleep man. He pushes himself to sit up on the chair and slowly rubs his eyes.

“…I’ll come. You don’t have to work that hard to persuade me.”

He won’t admit this, but he’s been desperate for some familiarity. Everything here is just different enough that it throws him off. He can’t even sleep properly despite his exhaustion because even the stars don’t align the same way on Earth. They just look like clusters of meaningless lights to him.

Just maybe, the slivers of resemblance you have to Miss Hunter and Zayne’s presence will help his mind relax just a little. Just enough so he can pick himself back up and look for a way to return.

He’s already left her behind once. He can’t do it a second time.

“If you say so.” Seeing that he agreed, you don’t push the topic further. “Do you think you can stand up and walk on your own? Or should we wait a bit longer?”

Xavier flexes his arms and hands a few times. He’s still exhausted, but his body feels just a bit lighter now that he’s more awake. He gives his legs a little shake before attempting to stand up.

He doesn’t wobble like a newborn fawn, but it does take him a second to stand up properly. He takes a few practice steps, each better than the last, before saying, “I’ll be fine. We can go.”

You don’t bother hiding your doubt, but you know Xavier is much stronger than you, so you leave it at that. “Alright. Let’s go get some dinner.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Cinnabar Bride is a unique establishment. While it primarily focuses on being a casual family-esque restaurant, its atmosphere is closer to a café or tea house. The second floor is also a trinket shop, making it a great place for tourists to enjoy themselves.

Of course, it’s a great place for locals as well. The owner, Diletta, always makes sure anyone who steps into her business is satisfied, be it through food, drink, items, or information. Cinnabar Bride is one of the ‘gray zones’ in the Inner City, meaning it’s one of the only places civilians, mobsters, and everyone in between can mingle with less reservations. It makes it a gold mine for information.

It’s the main reason why Cielo loves the place so much, aside from Diletta’s delectable cuisine and beverages. Personally, you’re partial to Diletta’s terrentine and her comfort foods. The soups at Cinnabar Bride just hit differently.

“Oh my, sweet child!” Diletta’s attention snaps onto you as soon as you enter the establishment. She leaves the counter with such speed and elegance that you’re temporarily entranced by her. Due to her special condition, Diletta always covers herself from head to toe. To keep up with the theme of her business, she’s always wearing red bridal robes and dresses with plenty of gorgeous accessories. It makes for a very strong impression, which helps with profits, so it’s a smart choice.

Most importantly, Diletta enjoys it.

“Owner, it’s been a while.” You smile as she cradles your hands with her own.

“Look at you! You’re practically skin and bones. I heard from Thorn that you got yourself in some trouble, but I underestimated how much you pushed yourself. I should’ve had Hector deliver some food and herbal remedies.”

Thorn is Diletta’s nickname for Fiordispina. Hector is Diletta’s husband. He spends most of his time taking care of the greenhouse on top of the building, so it’s rare to see him.  Most people would be shocked to see a duck wandering around a restaurant anyways, so it’s good he stays out of sight.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t have been able to eat any of it anyways— ack!”

Diletta pinches your nose. “You really know how to cause trouble for yourself! You need to learn to treat yourself more preciously. There’s only one of you in the world.”

“It was an emergency,” you grumble. “My mentor already lectured me too…”

“Is that so? I suppose I’ll hold back on my lecture then.” Despite the opaque veil over her face, you can see Diletta moving her head to examine the two men you came in with you. “And who might these handsome gentlemen be? I’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re my guests.”

“I see.” Diletta lowers herself into a curtsy. “Welcome to Regina. I am Diletta, the owner of Cinnabar Bride. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

The tone she uses to introduce herself is completely different from the one she uses with you. It’s less motherly and more refined, like jade.

“Thank you,” the two men say in unison.

A small chuckle escapes from behind the vermillion veil. “Now, come follow me. I’ll let you borrow one of the private rooms tonight; the noise in the main hall won’t be good for any of you.”

Diletta guides you to the farthest private dining room. She flips the light switch on and removes one of the chairs from the table before ushering you inside.

“You can use the tablet to order, or you can ring the bell to have me take your order in person. I don’t have any reservations tonight, so take your time.”

As Diletta closes the door, Zayne takes the seat beside you while Xavier sits across from you. You grab the tablet and place it on the table so all three of you could see the screen.

“I’m honestly desperate for food right now.” You select the soup section and scroll down to the pork soup with carrots and yams. After selecting it, you quickly request it to be diluted with some water to reduce the sodium content. “Order what you want, and don’t worry about the price.”

“What would you recommend?” Xavier asks as he starts looking through the various options available.

“Her pork soup dumplings, soy sauce braised pork or chicken, the green bean stir-fry, sautéed broccolini…” You start naming off whatever comes to mind. “Pasta primavera, fish tacos, the steamed crabs, tikka masala, clam chowder, the strawberry fields salad, oh— her ice cream cookie parfaits and beef stew are Agatha’s favorites…”

You couldn’t leave out the coffee jelly, flan, matcha roll cake, or the mixed fruit crepe cakes.

“…but if I had to choose, I’d probably go with her Silan soup noodles or the Luoxia hotpot. Those are recipes she brought over from her home country. For dessert, the beloved terrentine and maybe the black forest gateau would be my recommendation.”

Your ears start to burn from embarrassment. ‘You really went off there. Amazing job.’

“I’ll go with the hotpot then.” Xavier selects his order before pushing the tablet in Zayne’s direction.

The cardiac surgeon orders the soup noodles and terrentine. “Since you wanted to treat me to the terrentine.”

“The indulgence will be worth it, I promise.” You take the tablet and finalize the orders.

The food takes all but ten minutes to arrive. As usual, they’re massive portions. Still, you’re pretty sure they’re somehow bigger than normal. You make a face at Diletta, which only garners a small jingle of her jewelry in response.

‘There’s definitely something brewing in her head. I don’t know if I like it.’

“Don’t hesitate to call for me if you need anything, sweethearts. I’ll come running.”

You sigh as you watch her slip back into the hallway; she’s definitely planning something, and a plotting Diletta is a bad Diletta. You don’t want to even fathom what she intends to do, so you grab your spoon and give your soup a few stirs to cool it down.

Once the soup’s cooled enough to not burn your tongue, you lift a spoonful up to your lips. The hot liquid instantly warms your body, causing all of the stress and tension from your body to evaporate. The natural sweetness from the carrots and yams is followed by the richness of the pork bones. Even diluted, the soup is delicious (the original flavor is better though).

Seeing that you’re in your own world, the pair of men begin to eat their meals. Zayne’s dish has a chicken and mushroom soup base that’s sweetened using jujubes and goji berries. A bit of rice wine, the kind used for cooking, is added for an additional depth of flavor. The flat rice noodles absorb the flavorful broth while maintaining a fun, chewy texture. Daikon, lotus root, and napa cabbage are added for additional nutrition and texture.

For Xavier’s, a basic stock is made with chicken and pork bones, ginger, scallions, and white peppercorn. The scum is removed, and the soup is allowed to simmer for at least forty minutes. Diletta says the longer it simmers, the better it’ll taste. On the side, red chilis and peppercorns are fried in some oil to release their flavor. Once the spices are fragrant, they’re added into the stock, alongside some tomatoes, dried mushrooms, and corn. Since it’s a single serving, Diletta adds all the ingredients in, which includes but is not limited to slices of ribeye, brisket, pork belly, and lamb; soft tofu, firm tofu, fried tofu skins, and tofu puffs; seafood such as squid and shrimp; and leafy greens like bok choy, bean sprouts, crown daisy, and watercress. It’s a comforting dish with exciting variety and the perfect kick.  

You cut one of the soft carrot chunks in half and happily gobble it up. This was your favorite way of eating the orange root vegetable— it’s always so tender and sweet. The yams are also delicious, especially with how they’re firm yet soft. They also absorb more of the broth’s flavor. The pork falls off the bone and adds a delightful chew to the whole thing. You really could die happy now.

Unfortunately, since your body isn’t used to eating, you’re full halfway through. You could push yourself, and you honestly debate doing it, but you ultimately decide against it. You’d probably end up hurling everything up if you tried. So instead of creating more trouble for yourself, you set your spoon down and turn your attention to your table partners.

Xavier’s practically inhaling his food with ginormous bites you could only dream of doing while Zayne takes a more methodical approach with his food. You do notice how his eyes are glued onto the terrentine though.

‘Looks like he has a sweet tooth.’

“Oh.” A thought dawns on you.

The pair look up from their food.

“Is there something wrong?” Zayne sets down his utensils and shifts in his seat. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I’m feeling pretty good actually. I was just wondering… did you guys need clothes? I know have some of men’s clothes at my place, but I don’t think most of them will fit.”

“When Caesar came to drop off a few more infusions for you, he also brought over some clothes for me. I’ll be able to manage with what I’ve received,” Zayne states.

“Is that so? I’ll have to thank him.”

“I did buy some clothes, but they’re tucked in some random alley,” Xavier reveals.

“Did you leave anything else there?”

“No, everything of value is on me. Including your house keys.”

Right. You did that.

“Well, then we can go buy some new clothes for you later. I’m sure I have something for you to change into tonight.”

There’re basically a dozen closets in your home, and they’re mostly filled with clothes your relatives or friends left behind, either because they forgot or didn’t want to bring them back. Heck, you probably had some clothes from your past partners stuffed somewhere.

There has to be something that’ll fit Xavier, even if it’s just some lounge wear.

“Did you still want to go to the museum, Matchmaker?” Zayne inquires.

“Let me check the time.” You fish your phone out from your purse and turn it on. It’s 8:15 PM. “Yeah, I’d like to go, unless you two are tired?”

Xavier swallows another bite of food. “Doesn’t matter to me. But… is there a museum that’s open right now?”

“No, but the one I need to go to is Agatha’s. I have special access.”

“Hmm. For a matchmaker, you do a lot of things that aren’t romance-related.”

“It would be a waste to solely use my abilities for romantic companionship. The underworld commissions aside, I’ve used my sight to help people find their missing pets or lost items. There was even a time where I had to dive into the ocean to retrieve someone’s wedding ring…urgh, why did I agree to that?” You can’t help but cringe as a dark memory resurfaces. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“Are you bad with the ocean?”

“I just don’t like the fact that anything could be swimming underneath me. I’m okay if I stay in the shallow end. I only agreed to that request because the water was clear, and I could see the bottom. It just happened to be… deeper than I anticipated.”

Much deeper than you anticipated.

Anything can become a reality with the existence of aptets— including mythical sea creatures. You’d rather not risk the chance of something grabbing you by your leg and pulling you into the depths.

“You really need to learn to prioritize yourself. There’s no need to push yourself like that,” Xavier deadpans. “People will only see you as a pushover.”

“I’m not a people pleaser; I just tend to do things impulsively.” You’re quick to defend yourself. “I’m trying to get better.”

You, in fact, haven’t been trying. But they don’t need to know that.

Plink.

Your phone lights up with a notification. It’s a message from one of your clients that had an appointment you couldn’t attend due to your self-induced coma. “Sorry; it’s work related.”

[Jibril Rigot: I would like to reschedule my appointment. Would 10/8 at 6:30 PM be a good time for you?]

You pull out the auction tickets you received from Cielo. The date on them says 10/9. If you end up going to the auction, it shouldn’t interfere with the appointment.

[You: I am available as of now. Would you like to book that time?]

[Jibril Rigot: Yes.]

[You: I will have that added to my schedule. Thank you for your patience. As explained in the message I sent earlier in the day, this appointment will be free of charge.]

[Jibril Rigot: I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Matchmaker.]

[You: Thank you for your patronage once again, Sir Rigot. See you on 10/8 at 6:30 PM.]

You switch over to your calendar app and add in the new appointment time for Jibril. Jibril is a private investigator that has dedicated his career to missing person cases. If he finds himself in a corner, he usually reaches out to you to see if you can find any leads. His requests often keep you busy for days on end, so not charging him will hurt your bank account, but it’s not like you really needed the money. Plus, knowing that man, he’ll try to repay you one way or another.

That’s a problem for later.

You return to the messages app and select Antares’ chat box.

[You: I think I’ll be at the museum at 8:50; will that be alright with you?]

You aren’t expecting an immediate response, since Antares said the restoration he was working on was complicated, but his chat bubble appears on the screen as soon as you send the message. Your thumb hovers over the text box as you patiently wait for his reply.

[Antares: That will be fine. I’ll inform security so they know you’re coming.]

[You: Thank you. Please let them know I have company with me.]

[You: Would you like something from Cinnabar Bride?]

[Antares: I was about to order some delivery from there. If you’re willing to grab a steak bowl with extra black beans, bell peppers, and corn, that would be great. I’ll pay you back when you get here.]

[You: 👍🏻]

You grab the tablet and place the order, making sure to specify it was for takeout. While you are at it, you request a container for your leftover soup.

Xavier watches you as you place the tablet back onto its holder. “All done?”

“Yup. A client wanted to reschedule, and then I told Antares when we would be at the museum. I offered to pick up some dinner for him, which is what I just ordered. Oh, did you want more food or something?”

A faint noise reminiscent of a chuckle escapes Xavier. “I’m good for now.” He glances towards your bowl. “Are you done?”

“Mhm; the portions here are a bit big for me right now. I asked for a container to bring the leftovers home.”

You turn your head in Zayne’s direction. He makes eye contact with you and silently reaches towards the terrentine, ready to push it towards you. You stop him by taking hold of the other side of the plate.

“All of my stomachs are full of soup; you can have it.”

“Are you sure?” The cardiac surgeon arches an eyebrow at you.

You nod earnestly. “I swear on my heart.”

A ghost of a smile appears on Zayne’s lips, catching you completely off guard. “Then, I’ll gladly accept.”

At first glance, the terrentine at Cinnabar Bride doesn’t look too different from the one Zayne had at Silky Blends. They had the same structure, with mounds of cream in between layers of puff pastry. The crumble on Cinnabar Bride’s terrentine has a deeper golden hue compared to the one at Silky Blends. What Zayne assumed to be the lemon curd also had a slight pink hue to it.  

He carefully cuts the corner of the pastry with his fork and takes a bite of the dessert.

“How is it?” You can’t help but ask.

Zayne silently takes another bite of the terrentine. “The curd on top… what’s in it?”

He couldn’t put his hand on the flavor. It’s definitely a lemon curd, but there’s a hint of bitterness that he can’t quite recognize.

“It’s grapefruit. Diletta uses a mixture of McGrath lemons and Alwyn grapefruits for her curd.”

“And the crumble?”

“Honeycomb candy. Doesn’t it add a fun crispiness to it? The coffee she uses for the cream is a local specialty, called Emerald. It’s a dark roast, but it has a more vibrant aroma compared to other dark roasts. Diletta is an expert when it comes to working with Emerald, so the coffee cream isn’t as bitter as some places that use it.”

“I didn’t think this would taste as different as the one from Silky Blends,” Zayne admits. “I can see why it’s your favorite. It’s delicious.”

The flavors are well balanced— addictingly so. He could probably go through six of them in one sitting.

A grin full of unrestrained joy makes its way onto your face. You can’t help but be delighted that your guest complimented one of your favorites. Sure, you expected it, seeing that it’s one of the most popular items on Diletta’s menu, but it’s still exciting.

Seeing your expression, Zayne decides to hand one of the clean forks to Xavier. “You should try it.”

He does. “It’s good.”

Despite his many years of life, Xavier doesn’t think he’s had something like this before. It’s bitter yet sweet, heavy with just enough brightness to counteract it, soft yet crispy. He feels like it shouldn’t be as good as it is. How can something so conflicting be so harmonious?

He takes another bite of the pastry. It’s a painfully comforting flavor, all because of your smile that reminds him of his Starlight.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Diletta lets you pay for the meal, but she doesn’t let you leave without bags full of nutritious food and herbal tonics. She even hands a notebook full of recipes to Zayne after she finds out he’s taking care of you while you recover. She pats both men on the shoulder, much like a mother would to her beloved children. “Don’t forget to take care of yourselves too. The Matchmaker is in the worst condition physically, but I can tell you two are quite battered on the inside.”

You gently tug Diletta’s sleeve, and she backs away. “Have a wonderful night; please do come again.”

All of you bid her goodbye before making your way to the car.

Xavier takes the bags of food off your lap as soon as you reach your vehicle, giving Zayne the chance to help you inside. As Zayne returns the wheelchair to the trunk of the car, Xavier settles into the back, placing the food beside him.

When Zayne gets into the driver’s seat, you’ve already started the GPS for him. The Mnesos Museum is roughly a fifteen-minute drive with traffic in mind. You decide to shoot another text to Antares.

[You: Heading over to the museum now.]

“Xavier,” you call for the man sitting in the back. He looks up from his lap.

“Hm?”

“We have some time now, so I’m going to talk your ear off for a bit. If you decide to listen or not is up to you; I’m only doing this because I promised the big, scary Commander I would.”

“Okay.”

Thus, begins your fifteen-minute monologue.

“The place you wandered into was private property belonging to Vice, an organization that focuses on maintaining public order within Regina. While they spend most of their time monitoring the underworld’s activity, they also handle the isolation of Aberrants…”

By the end of it, Xavier’s impressed by how long you can talk without pausing. He also… didn’t listen to most of what you had to say.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Using your key, you enter the museum through one of the back doors. The security guard stationed by the door gives you a quick nod. “Good evening, Matchmaker.”

“Good evening, Victoria. Have you and Freya been doing well?”

“We have, thanks to you.”

You wave your hand at her. “I didn’t do much, but I’m glad to hear you’re well.”

“It looks like you got yourself in some trouble. The Director told me you went overboard again?”

It’s moments like this where you regret having so many prominent connections. Everyone seems to know when you pull a stupid stunt. “I’ve learned my lesson this time.”

“That’s good. Can’t have our number one romance charm croaking on us.”

“You guys still call me that?”

“We do indeed.”

“…I’m not talking to you guys anymore.”

Victoria snickers at your embarrassment. “I’ve already notified Antares that you’re here.”

“Thank you. Zayne, just keep going straight until you see a room labeled ‘Paper Restoration Room.’”

A man with short brown hair and a pair of antique-looking glasses stands in front of the room you’re headed to. He looks up from his phone when he hears you approaching.

“Good evening,” you say as Zayne stops you in front of Antares.

The conservator is clearly surprised by your appearance, or more likely, the men behind you. “Ah, good evening. It’s nice to see you again, Matchmaker.”

“How’s work going? Here, your dinner.”

Antares accepts the paper bag. “Thank you; It’s moving along smoothly. The scroll is just more delicate than we originally thought. My eyes were starting to hurt, and I saw Victoria’s message about your arrival, so I thought it was good time for a break.”

“Then I won’t keep you for long. I was just hoping to ask you a few questions and have a chat with Cennet.”

“Of course, I’ll answer to the best of my ability.”

“Do you happen to remember the antique watch that my mentor mentioned a couple years back? The one that had potential to become a Sentient.”

“I do. The Director’s been trying to track it down so we can add it to our collection, but we’ve been struggling to get our hands on it. Last time we’ve seen it was at an overseas auction sometime last Yuver. It was sold off to a private collector, but apparently it was lost at sea shortly after.”

“I find that hard to believe…”

“The Director thinks it was stolen. This didn’t make it onto the news, but the private collector ended up in a nasty car accident. It didn’t kill him, but he was left in pretty bad shape.”

“That’s some insider info you got there.”

“The one who saved him was the Director.”

“That’s…not surprising actually. She was probably tailing him to see if she could persuade him to let go of it.”

Antares nods, confirming your assumption.

You can only press your hands against your face. “Sometimes I wonder why she would be friends with someone like me, and then in moments like these, I’m reminded of why. She’s just a different font of crazy.”

“You two are indeed birds of a feather. Still, what got you curious about Pocket Watch of Guilfoyle? You didn’t seem particularly interested in it when your mentor came to inquire about it.”

“I wanted to know if it awakened or not.”

You’re hoping it hasn’t, but you have no idea where it’s been. The threshold of “emotions” required for something to become sentient is different for each object. It could take hundreds of years, like Ferelith, or just one person, like Cennet.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything about it gaining sentience. But…” Antares swipes through his phone a few times before showing you the screen, “on Ryan Geier’s auction list, there’s two mystery items. Originally, there was only one ‘special item,’ but that changed two days ago. There’s no information about the second mystery item, but the first one is rumored to be the Pocket Watch of Guilfoyle. The Director tried fighting for a ticket, but she couldn’t get her hands on one. I think she ended up learning that one of her acquaintances got tickets, and she ended up paying a hefty price to get them to look out for the special item… Matchmaker?”   

The expression on your face is probably ridiculous, but you don’t bother hiding it. “I met up with that acquaintance earlier today, and they gave me their tickets.”

‘I’m going to charge the hell out of you, Cielo Acierno.’

“For your sake, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear a thing you just said.”

“That’s for the best. Okay; that’s all I wanted to ask. Thank you. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Before you go, let me pay for my dinner.” Antares grabs his wallet from his back pocket and hands you a few crisp bills. “Keep the rest— think of it as a tip.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

You wait for Antares to shuffle into the break room before looking at Zayne and Xavier.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “That must’ve been boring.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Zayne reaches down and adjusts the shawl on your shoulders.

Xavier nods. “We didn’t have anything to say anyways.”

You still felt bad for them. “I’ll make the next stop quick.”

“Where would you like me to take you?”

“The Hall of Mirrors; I’ll direct you.”  

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Matchmaker, your appearance...” Cennet steps out of her mirror as soon as you enter the Hall of Mirrors. You bring a finger up to your lips, silently telling her not to say anything else.

“How are you doing? Have you experienced any other abnormalities?” You ask innocently as Zayne brings you up in the mirror. Using the reflection in front of you, you can see they’re startled by Cennet. It’s to be expected. You slip your phone into Cennet’s hand. While you were directing Zayne where to go, you had been writing out a long message for Cennet on your phone.

Cennet takes the phone. “That face is still fractured, but nothing else has happened. I presume it has to do with something from the other side.”

There’s a slight frown on her face as she returns your phone to you. “You’re a fool.”

“Please don’t lecture me,” you beg to the sentient mirror. “I’ve heard enough…”

“I’m not interested in wasting my breath on someone who won’t bother to listen.” Cennet squints her eyes at you. “I’ll agree to go along with your antics since I owe you, but that’s only if you don’t bring more harm to yourself. The moment I find out you’ve injured yourself again, I will spill everything.”

‘She’s not joking around— though she’s never been the humorous type.’

“That’s perfectly fine.”

Cennet ruffles your hair. “Good. The next time you come, you better be more than a bag of skin and bones.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

On the drive home, you’ve fallen fast asleep. Today’s events took quite a toll on your body.

“When did you start clinging onto her?” Xavier breaks the silence that’s been filling the air ever since you’ve fallen asleep. There’s a hint of mockery in this voice that Zayne doesn’t miss.

Zayne stops the car in front of the red light before answering, “I went back to ask her some questions. She ended up collapsing halfway through. I’ve been monitoring her since.”

“How studious of you.”

“It’s a welcome distraction. Taking care of her has brought me a sense of normalcy and many learning experiences.”

Just accompanying you for one day has given him more information about the world than the research he’s done through the internet and research papers. For example, while Aberrants were noted to exist, there were no records of a ranking system. In fact, they were simply listed as monsters that needed to be “taken care” of immediately.

He’s also learned that you’re a much more prominent character in this world than you lead on to be.

“I believe she’s the key to finding our way back to where we belong,” Zayne confesses.

“Are you saying that because she’s helped us a few times? What if she’s the reason we’re here in the first place?”

“The best way to learn about someone’s intentions is to stay within their vicinity.”

Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer. If you were really the cause behind this whole fiasco, then the fastest way to tell would be to have lower your guard and spill the beans yourself. If not, then you had no reason not to help them return or at least try to.

Zayne doesn’t tell Xavier that he knows you’re hiding something. He doesn’t want the hunter to harm you, but he does say this, “With how far she went to help you, I don’t think she’s the mastermind behind all of this.”

You didn’t mention the risk you took to help Xavier. Someone with malicious intent wouldn’t hesitate to take that chance to manipulate someone to stay by their side. Emotional blackmail doesn’t work on Xavier, but you didn’t know that. Not to mention, your urgency throughout the whole ordeal felt too genuine to be an act. Even if he isn’t the best at physically expressing his emotions, he’s confident in his ability to read people. Maybe he’s being blinded by the fact that you’re so similar to the person he holds close to his heart. He doesn’t know, but time will tell.

Xavier doesn’t bother to respond. Instead, he turns his attention to the scenery beyond the car window. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t let you down, Doctor Zayne.’

Chapter Text

You wake up to birds chirping, the potent stench of iron, and a strangely wet pillow.  The past few days have been uneventful, and you’ve been feeling better, so you lowered your guard. Clearly, you shouldn’t have, because your pillow is soaked with red fluid— a stark reminder that you are, in fact, not well. You reach up to your wipe your mouth. Sure enough, a streak of red appears on the back of your hand. You curse under your breath and push yourself out of bed. You need to get rid of the evidence before the doctor finds out. You weren’t going to let a bloody pillow interfere with your plans for today.

The first thing you do is head into the master bathroom with your pillow. After splashing some water on your face to wash off the blood on your mouth and chin, you rip the pillowcase off the pillow and put under the running water. You grab the small bottle of detergent from under the sink and apply some of it to the pillowcase. With your hands, you massage the soap into the fabric before vigorously scrubbing it. The foam that appears has a dark, red-brown color, which you rinse out with the lukewarm tap water.

Unfortunately, the pillow was not spared from your nighttime bleeding session, so you just try to rinse out as much of the blood as possible before the inevitable cycle in the washing machine. Before leaving your bedroom, you check to see if there’s blood on your bedsheets and blankets. Luckily, those were free of blood. You grab a couple of your shawls, lap blankets, and your other pillow to wash to conceal the ‘crime’ even further.

The grandfather’s clock that sits between the dining and living rooms tells you it’s 4:30 as you pass through the house to get to the laundry room.

‘I should be able to get these washed and dried before they wake up.’ You shove everything into the washer and start the cycle once you’ve added the detergent and a little bit of softener. You shut the washer door and drag yourself into the kitchen to prepare something to drink. Going back to bed is tempting, but you won’t be able to wake up before the washer cycle finishes. You’ve tried multiple times during your university years. It never worked. The only life skill you obtained during those years was the ability to finish your grocery shopping within the dryer cycle (one hour).

‘Let’s make some jasmine tea.’ You grab the jasmine tea from the cupboard and retrieve a small teapot along with the complementary cup from the rack beside the microwave. The tea set you chose was one that your childhood friend, Miriam, made for you as a university graduation gift. It has a bunch of cute animals all over it— all your favorites. On the bottom of the cup, there’s also a cute little message: “A rainbow will eventually appear.” The lettering is a bit wobbly, but that’s what makes it charming.

Once the kettle finishes boiling, you pour the water into the pot with the jasmine already inside. By the time you’ve cleaned up the area, the tea’s done brewing. You fill the cup and blow on it before taking a sip. The sweet fragrance and flavor of jasmine is a great way to start your day— especially on days where your shoulders feel a little heavy.

You don’t leave the kitchen until you finish another cup of tea and one of Diletta’s black bean brownies.

‘I’ll clean up after breakfast,’ you tell yourself as you walk to the living room and plop onto the massage chair that you won from the casino four months ago. You were playing with the intention of killing some time before meeting up with your client, but you ended up winning the Blackjack tournament.

You press a few buttons to start the massage session and close your eyes. ‘Since we’re going out, we should get some clothes for Xavier.’

You did manage to find a couple pairs of sweatpants and T-shirts that Xavier could wear, but the fit was barely acceptable in terms of Regina’s social standards. You needed to get him out of those as soon as possible.

‘We should go to a store with a large variety of clothes; maybe heading to the mall would be best? But the clothing stores there aren’t the best quality. Plus, it’ll be super crowded since it’s Harvest Festival week.’

At the beginning of each season, there’s always a festival. The celebration lasts a whole week, and the city becomes even busier than it usually is. Being a resident of Regina for your whole life, you don’t find the festivals to be particularly exciting, but you can appreciate the liveliness that comes with it.

‘I don’t think he would mind just going to a normal department store, but that’s going to be the same cheap quality. Even if their stay here is short term, having higher quality clothes would be better.’

You have to bite back a hiss when the chair starts working on a particularly tight knot in your back.

‘I guess we can just check out Verona Road. There’s plenty of clothing stores there.”

Most of the shops on Verona are family businesses, so the quality is guaranteed. If Xavier didn’t like the prices, there were a couple budge-friendly brand name stores that he could browse through. If he wants designer, then Prideaux Avenue is just around the block. He’d be able to find all of the thousand-dollar dress shirts he wants over there. Not that the quality is much, if any, better.

‘Miriam’s studio closes at 5. Depending on when Xavier wakes up, we can go out and have lunch before going shopping, or we can have lunch at home before going out. It’s a ten-minute drive from Verona to Almanac. I should have time to buy something for Miriam too.’

As you travel deeper and deeper into your thoughts, you don’t notice a certain something prowling over. It’s only when you feel tiny little weights on your thighs do you realize your attention is desired. You remove your arm from the arm rest to pet the little creature that’s made it onto your lap.

You rub your hand over their ears and feel a familiar scar on their ear. “Hi, my little Sootie.”

Soot immediately begins to purr. He’s just as delighted as you are. You pull him closer so he’s resting against your abdomen. The vibration from his purrs soothes you in a way like no other.

“Where did you come from? The basement door was closed when I walked by earlier. Did you just open it? Or did you crawl out of one of your other hiding spots?”

Soot simply starts making muffins on your stomach, like he’s trying to distract you.

Char and Cinder are intelligent in their own right, but Soot is by far the smartest. He knows how to open doors and loves to solve those puzzle toys. He’s even completed a maze that Agatha made for his birthday celebration without jumping over the walls. With enough training, he could probably become a little feline spy.

You should really set up those communication buttons you bought for him a while back. You just know he’d love it.

Fifteen minutes of cuddling later, the massage is over, and your clothes are done being washed. Soot leaps off your lap as you get up from your seat. He follows you to the laundry room and watches as you load everything into the dryer.

“Is there something you needed, baby?” You coo as you start the dryer.

“Mrrrow.”

“Did you want your breakfast? It’s pretty early though.”

He flicks his tail.

“No? Then, did you want to sit on the deck?”

“Mrrr!”

“Alright. Let’s go get some fresh air together.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Zayne finds you sitting on the deck, watching Soot as he meanders on the railing. The only reason he can tell that the cat is Soot is because of his little purple collar with yellow stars. He still hasn’t been able to tell them apart yet.

The feline outside stops moving the moment he makes eye contact with Zayne.

“Mm? Sootie, what’s got your attention?” You turn your head to look behind you. Your curiosity morphs into warmth as soon as you see the cardiac surgeon. While his appearance isn’t messy, it’s certainly softer than usual, since he isn’t in his usual semi-professional attire. Instead, he’s wearing a loose-fitting v-neck and comfortable lounge pants. His hair isn’t styled either, adding onto the overall softness of his appearance.

He opens the screen door, which triggers Soot into jumping off the railing and running back into the house. You slowly push yourself up from the deck and make your way towards the door.

“Good morning,” you whisper. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head. “No. I normally wake up around this time. I just came down to make some coffee and saw that the sliding door was open.”

He steps aside so you can make your way back inside the house. You close the screen and glass sliding doors, making sure to lock them. “Soot likes to go outside occasionally, and I thought it would be good to get some fresh air while I waited for my laundry to dry.”

“Just make sure you bring a shawl with you when you go out next time. The mornings are starting to get cold.”

“I will.”

“Since we’re both awake, would you like to have breakfast now?”

You glance over at the grandfather’s clock and see that it’s 6:10. Oh, how time flies.

“Sure; that sounds good.”

“What would you like?”

You’ve eaten all the food Diletta’s given you at this point, and you know your fridge is rather lackluster. You did get an emergency grocery delivery yesterday though, so it’s not empty.

“An omelette? One with spinach and cheese?”

BEEP!

“Sounds like the dryer finished its cycle,” Zayne notes. “I’ll work on the omelettes, so go ahead and finish your laundry.”

“I’ll come back and help you when I’m done.”

Zayne watches you scuttle over to the laundry room. Your pace is a bit slow, but you’re walking without much trouble. Your complexion has also gotten better, so you no longer look like a reanimated corpse. It’s a relief to see that you’re recovering well.

The doctor retrieves the ingredients he needs to make the omelettes from the fridge. He quickly washes his hands before grabbing a large bowl and a couple of plates.  After cracking a few eggs into the bowl, a dash of salt and a couple cracks of pepper is added for some basic seasoning. He then whisks everything together with a pair of chopsticks. The spinach is washed and patted dry before it’s added to the eggs. He also throws in some cheese before giving it another mix.

A pan is placed on the shove over medium heat. He lets it heat up before lowering the temperature and adding in just enough oil to coat the pan. Once evenly coated, he pours some of the omelette mixture in. Zayne waits until the omelette is about halfway cooked before he adds a bit more cheese. Afterwards, he carefully folds the omelette in half, waits 30 seconds, and then flips it over to let the other side cook for just a bit longer. Once completely cooked through, he sets it onto one of the plates.

You step into the kitchen just as he’s finishing up the second omelette. Seeing this, you take a couple of apples and pears from the fruit basket. After washing them, you peel and cut them into chunks. You portion them into three ramekins before adding a little bit of lemon juice to keep everything from oxidizing.

Zayne toasts up some bread and adds two slices onto each plate. He works on covering Xavier’s portion with some plastic wrap as you brew some coffee for the crew. Today’s blend is called Daybreak; it’s from a region in eastern Sicel known as Alaga. They’re also well known for something called an eclipse fruit.

The table is all set up and ready by the time the coffee is done brewing. You pour two cups, adding plenty of milk and sugar to one of them, before bringing them over to the table.

“Thank you.” Zayne accepts the mug you hand to him.

You return the gratitude with a sweet smile. “Thank you for breakfast.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

By the time Xavier comes downstairs, it’s noon. Zayne’s back in the kitchen, cooking up some salmon, asparagus, and potatoes for lunch. You’re sitting at the dining table, playing a game on your phone while getting another one of Fiordispina’s infusions. Xavier peeks at what you’re doing, and he can’t help but be intrigued.

“What are you doing?” He takes a step closer, careful not to knock into the IV stand.

“It’s a special event for one of the games I play. I’m trying to turn the whole board into a certain color within the move count. I’ve already solved this level, but there’s a special prize if you can complete all other levels using the least number of moves.”

“Hmmm.”

“It’s not my favorite puzzle or anything, but it beats the stupid gravity mechanic they had in the previous event I played. That just made me motion sick.”

“Are puzzle games your favorite? It seems like you okay them whenever you have time.”

“I don’t mind fighting games, but they’re harder to play since you can’t always pause the level or something. I prefer games I can play on the go basically.”

“I see.” He moves away from you and makes his way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. After taking a sip, he decides to add a small spoonful of sugar to his cup.

“This coffee tastes different,” Xavier states as he returns to the dining table.

“It’s a different blend. Do you not like it?”

He brings the cup to his mouth. “It’s alright. Just darker than I expected.”

“Daybreak, the blend I used today, doesn’t have any fruity notes like Cradle does. It leans into a more roasted chestnut flavor.”

Xavier gives you a look like he has no idea what you’re talking about, but you don’t catch it since your eyes are glued your phone screen. Seeing how invested you are in your game; he proceeds to pull out his own phone and start scrolling through the books he’s managed to download. He prefers reading physical books, but he didn’t want to touch your things without permission, and he honestly didn’t feel like looking around, so he’s been downloading copies of novels online for free.

Currently, he’s reading a novella by Cleo Gearhart called The Thread of Malice. It’s a narrative nonfiction piece that retells the story of the dreadful ‘Mauvais Incident.’ The story is told from the perspective of a junior high teacher named Wesley Ransom and takes place at Wakeland Park Zoo. He, along with a few other teachers, brought their students on a field trip for their science class. Halfway through the day, it starts downpouring, leading everyone to take shelter in one of the event centers in the zoo. The story quickly descends into a stereotypical horror/thriller sequence: the power goes out, the doors get locked shut, strange things start happening, and people begin to attack one another out of fear and desperation. Wesley desperately attempts to stay composed and protect the students, but his sense of powerlessness eventually takes over.

He's moments away from succumbing to the terror inside the event center when the door closest to him gets wrenched open. Wesley immediately recognizes the door-breaker to be one of his students— specifically the one who was unable to make it to the fieldtrip due to a high fever. Despite her frail state, she marches into the event center, crowbar in hand. She uses her weapon to break a seemingly random man’s legs, arms, and jaw.

After the incident is taken care of by the authorities, it’s revealed to the reader that the sick student was suffering through an aptet infection, and it was her newly developed sequela that led her to saving the victims of

After the incident is taken care of by the authorities, it’s revealed to the reader that the sick student was suffering through an aptet infection, and it was her newly developed sequela that led her to saving the victims of the Mauvais Incident. The student, who received the pseudonym Grace Handlovits to protect her identity, revealed that she could see “threads of malice,” which is what inspired the title of the work.

The story feels exaggerated, at least in Xavier’s opinion, which leaves a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. From his quick search, the Mauvais Incident happened with the past decade. He couldn’t imagine the victims being pleased with their trauma being blown up for entertainment value.

“…ver?”

Xavier tilts eyes up from his phone towards you. The first thing he notices is the fact that you’re no longer hooked to an IV. You chuckle, amused by his innocent expression. “Looks like you were also immersed in your phone. Lunch is ready.”

He sets his phone down and clears his throat. “Yeah; just wanted to finish the novella I started last night.”

“What were you reading?”

“The Thread of Malice by Cleo Gearhart,” he replies before getting up from his seat to help Zayne bring the dishes over. He misses the disgust that flashes across your face.

“Did you like it?”

“Not particularly.” He places your portion in front of you before heading back to the kitchen to grab his own. “It felt overly dramatized.”

“It’s because half of that story is a fictional interpretation,” you reveal. “The Mauvais Incident is a real incident, but the actual details of it wasn’t released to the public due to the personal wishes of the victims and their families. The only truth in The Thread of Malice is that the victims were going on a field trip to Wakeland Park Zoo and there was a student who ended up going through an aptet infection, though no one knew what she was sick with at the time.”

“…Was someone you knew involved?”

“My mentor was. The authorities who took care of the incident were actually Vice agents who noticed something was off. He was working with them on a separate case. Thank you for lunch, Zayne.”

Zayne takes a seat across from you. “Not at all.”

You stab into a spear of asparagus. “I want to sue that stupid author, but I’m not going to dig up what’s already been buried. No one else seems to want to either, so all I can do is make everyone I know give it terrible reviews.”

“I did see that it had a 1.5 star rating on many of the websites. Did you make that happen?”

“Yep. I give discounts to my customers who do it.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type for petty revenge,” Zayne muses. “But it fits your personality.”

“I like to avoid violence, but I’m not against it. It’s a situational thing.” If you met Cleo in person, you’d probably break her nose out of irritation.

“Sounds like getting on your bad side isn’t a good thing,” Xavier comments as he takes a chunk from the breakfast omlette that he wasn’t awake for.

“I don’t have the physical means to hurt you, so rest assured.”

“Why do I feel like that’s worse?”

You can only shrug your shoulders in response. “Who knows. I’m only a meek Matchmaker with the ability to see your fate bonds.”

Chapter Text

“Trapped in the cold rain, with nowhere to go, we cried. We hollered, pleading for someone to hear our voices through the torrential cacophony.”

Clink, clink.

“It was suffocating— but there was no way for air to come through.”

Splash.

“As more and more time passed, our hope for surviving dwindled. But our desperation remained.”

Clatter.

“The desperation for help transformed into desperation for dea—”

You yank your phone off the counter and change the video. The short clay figure-making video you chose to listen to while washing the dishes had changed to a lore breakdown video of the movie Torrential Rain, which is another piece of media that uses the Mauvais Incident as inspiration.

You glare at your phone. “Just because I briefly discussed it with someone, doesn’t mean you can show me content about it.”

You set the device back down and return to doing the dishes, completely unaware that Zayne just witnessed the whole scene. He had gone downstairs to the basement to feed the cats and came up just in time to see you making a face at your phone.

There’s not a dull moment with you, even when it’s quiet.

He makes his way towards the kitchen and tosses the three empty wet food cans in his hands. “I can take over; you still need go get ready, don’t you?”

“It’s okay; I’m almost done. You can relax for a bit.” You politely turn down his offer as you place another plate onto the drying rack. All you had left was the pan and utensils, so there was no point in Zayne getting his hands wet.

“Then, I’ll head back upstairs to finish reading some documents.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave.”

“Alright.”

You hear his footsteps fading away, and you finally look over your shoulder. It’s a strange feeling to have people in this house. Yes, you have your cats, and you have plenty of people that come by to visit, so it’s not their presence is what you find unusual. It’s more like… the consistency of their presence. They aren’t coming and going, like the other people do.

You don’t plan on getting used to it, obviously. They’re bound to leave at some point. Even if they became comfortable with you and this world, it would be preposterous to think they’ll stay if they could return to their home. Their devotion to Miss Hunter won’t let them stay.

‘Still, I’ll enjoy this consistency while it lasts.’

You rinse the pan and utensils and place them into their respective places on the drying rack. “All done. Time to go get ready for my little reunion.”

Using the towel hanging from the oven door, you wipe your hands dry and scurry your way to your bedroom. According to the weather report, it’s supposed to be rather warm, so you reach for one of your short-sleeved A-line dresses. The one you end up picking the light blue dress that has a bow on the back of the band collar and elegant butterfly sleeves. The last time you wore this, Diletta called you a ‘cute little yuver sweetheart.’

You chuckle at the memory as you retrieve a pair of dangling pearl earrings from your little jewelry box. They’re the ones with the screw backs, since you haven’t gotten the chance to get your ears pierced. These ones are comfortable; unlike some others you’ve tried. You slip on the matching pearl bracelet onto your left wrist before making your way to the bathroom to put on some make-up.

First is the sunscreen, primer, color corrector, concealer, and some tinted moisturizer. Next is a hint of blush and a bit of contour for some color. Then a bit of neutral eyeshadow, then a small eyeliner wing, and a couple swipes of waterproof mascara. After that, a coat of lip oil and a thorough layer of setting spray.

Viola; you’re all done. Well, almost. The last thing you need is another spritz of Serendipity’s perfume.

You wash your hands to get rid of any makeup and touch up your hair before exiting the bathroom. You take one of your smaller purses off the rack and stuff it with your house keys, wallet, mini perfume, lip balm, your phones, and a few other items. You’ve always preferred being over prepared. It’s to make up for your impulsiveness.

“Zayne, Xavier, I’m ready whenever you guys are!” You shout as you leave your bedroom and walk over to the laundry room to retrieve a pair of shoes that’ll match your outfit. ‘These flats will do.’

The pair make their way downstairs just in time to see you scurrying down to the foyer.

A huff of amusement escapes Xavier. “You don’t need to rush. We have plenty of time.”

You drop the flats on the floor and slide your feet into them. “I want to give you enough time to buy your clothes.”

“I’m not picky so it won’t take long.”

You wait for Zayne and Xavier to put on their shoes before opening the door. Zayne ushers you and Xavier to go out first before closing and locking the door using both the key and pin pad. Your car had been parked outside of the garage ever since you had to go pick Xavier up, because you had fallen asleep and the garage remote in your car was dead. Neither of them wanted to wake you up, and since you never told them the garage pin, they just parked on the driveway. You had them leave the car outside since the weather wasn’t bad.

The unfortunate result of your decision is the fact that the inside of your car is now rather toasty. It’s a minor issue— nothing turning on the fan and AC can’t fix. You’ll just have to cook for a little while first.

“Sit in the front,” you say to Xavier as he’s about to reach the car. “You have longer legs than I do.”

He doesn’t have time to protest, as you’re already getting in the back seat, and while he might not particularly care about sitting with you, he doesn’t know how comfortable you are sitting with him. So instead of saying anything, he just opens the door to the passenger seat and sits down.

Zayne is the driver, just as he was last time. Your phone connects to your car as soon as the doctor turns the engine on, and you quickly set up the GPS for Verona Road.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Xavier ends up choosing Mole Hole, a general clothing store that doubles as an information hub for the Fairchild Family, the ruling family of the Hila District. Of course, Xavier is unaware of this and probably chose the store because it’s close to the parking lot. Mole Hole has a good selection of apparel, so you decide to go along with it.

“Welcome to Mole Hole,” the owner, Siler, welcomes you from the counter. Compared to the last time you saw him, he’s grown a few more gray hairs, but he’s still quite handsome. Some might even call him a silver fox. “Are you searching for anything in particular?”

“Just some everyday clothes,” Xavier responds in a calm tone.

“You will find the men’s casual in aisle B-4.”

“Thank you.”

Xavier makes a beeline towards the forementioned aisle. You turn your head and look at Zayne, who remains by your side. “Would you like to take a look? I know you said that you had enough, but surely you’d like something closer to your own style?”

“There’s no need,” he gently refuses. “I don’t have many places to go, and the clothes Caesar provided me are similar to what I’d choose for myself anyways. If you’d like to look around, please go ahead.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. If anything, I should take some clothes out of my closet.”

‘But maybe I should prepare a gift for Miriam.’

Miriam wouldn’t care if you came with or without a present, but it’s been over a year since you’ve visited her. You step towards the counter to peek at the accessories they have on display.

‘I should avoid bracelets and rings.’ Since Miriam’s a full-time ceramicist, something like a necklace or a pair of earrings would be better, since those wouldn’t interfere with her work. Your eyes slide over to the necklaces. ‘This station necklace looks nice.’

“Sir, do you happen to wrap gifts?” You ask as you tilt your head up and make eye contact with the older man on the other side of the counter.

Siler nods. “I do.”

“Then, could you please wrap this dumortierite quartz station necklace up for me?”

“Certainly. What color wrapping would you like?” Siler pulls out a small catalog seemingly out of thin air.

You carefully look through the options. It’s a rather generous selection. “This groundcherry color would be perfect.”

“Oho, a wonderful choice. It’s perfect for the Harvest Festival.”

You patiently wait for him to wrap up the necklace. His movements are full of efficiency and elegance. Once he finishes wrapping the box, he pulls out a white ribbon and wraps it around the box before tying it into a bow.

“That will be forty-seven dollars, miss.”

You pay with cash. Your bank account’s seen enough withdrawals.

“I’m done.” Xavier returns to the counter with a small handful of clothes as soon as Siler’s done ringing you up. He places everything on the glass counter. You see a couple pairs of slacks, a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, a hoodie, some dress shirts, a set of athletic wear, and finally, a set of lounge wear that would be acceptable to go out in. There’s nothing offensive, much to your relief.

Ring ring ring ring.

“Excuse me— I’ll be outside.” You pull your personal phone out of your bag as you exit the store. “Hello?”

“Yu, where are you right now?” Miriam whispers. Her voice is all raspy and sniffly, like she had just finished crying.

“I just finished shopping at a store on Verona. Is there something wrong?”

“I, I wanted to see if you could come over to my studio a bit earlier than we planned.”

“Yeah. I can do that. Do you want me to come at a specific time or as soon as possible?”

 “As soon as possible…but could you also stop by a florist to buy some flowers?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. “…How many begonia bouquets do you want me to pick up?”

“Five.”

‘Fuck.’ You mentally curse. “Miri, close the studio and lay down on the couch. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay…Thank you, Yu.”

“It’s nothing. See you soon.”

You wait for Miriam to end the call before dropping your phone back into your purse. You’re tempted to scream and rip your hair out, but because you’re in public, you restrain yourself and opt for a more subtle way to vent your frustrations: digging your nails into your arms. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t register in your mind, and you end up breaking skin. This too goes unnoticed by you. The frustration, resentment, and grief welling up inside of you is too much.

Despite all your efforts, five more people had their lives taken away by that monster. Who was it this time? Lauren, Angelica, Christina? Trey, Brett, Walter, or Drake? Maybe it was Marissa, Jacob, or Paul. Rose never really recovered from that incident, thanks to her not-so-emotionally-intelligent parents, and while Logan acts like he’s fine, you know he isn’t. He still picks at his nails whenever he finds out that there’s going to be a rainstorm. You’ve cut Lance’s fear bond multiple times, but it always comes back. You know Arthur and Joyce cope with extreme sports, which is only slightlybetter than ingesting copious amounts of drugs or alcohol in their case.

The numbers keep dwindling, and while you know it’s not your fault, you can’t help but feel guilty.

‘You should’ve protected them better.’ A voice inside your head sneers. ‘You should’ve tried harder.’

‘You should’ve protected them better. You should’ve tried harder. You should’ve protected them better.You should’ve tried harder. You should’ve protected them better. You should’ve tried harder. You should’ve protected them better.You should’ve tried harder. You should’ve—’

Your whole body reels backwards at the coldness that suddenly touches your skin. You reflectively attempt to wrench your arm away from the iciness, but it only tightens its grip on you.

“Matchmaker!”

The sound of someone calling your name pulls you out of your trance, and you finally process what took ahold of your arm. It’s Zayne. His eyes reflect the same concern they expressed on that one night you collapsed.

“Are you okay?” Xavier’s voice comes from behind you. You slowly turn your head to look at him. There’s a slight crease between his eyebrows.

You take your free hand and cover your face. “Give me a second…I need to calm down.”

It takes a couple of minutes of breathing exercises to calm your heart and clear your mind. Admittedly, you’re still a bit shaken up from the sudden rush of emotions, but you’ve composed yourself for the most part.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I received a phone call from the friend I’m meeting up with today. Some of our acquaintances passed away. She wanted me to buy some bouquets for her and bring them over as soon as possible. My brain didn’t take the information well, so I spiraled a bit.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s understandable that you’re shocked.” Zayne comforts you with kind words. “Let’s get your wound treated.”

“I’ll go ask for a first aid kit.” Xavier bolts back to the Mole Hole.

Zayne guides you to a nearby bench before he begins examining your elbow. Not only did you manage to break through the skin, but your nails also dug deep enough for you to start bleeding.

“You don’t need any stitches, but I’ll have to clean the areas your nails punctured through your skin. After that, I’ll wrap it up with a bandage,” as the surgeon finishes announcing his treatment plan to you, Xavier returns with a small metal kit. He hands it to Zayne, who immediately opens it and reaches for the antiseptic. He carefully cleans the wound before firmly wrapping the gauze bandage around your self-inflicted injury. Zayne discards the used products while Xavier returns the kit, and you just watch everything happen.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The closest florist is on Lyric Street, which is two streets down from Almanac Avenue, where Miriam’s studio is located. It’s not one you’ve been to before, but their selection contains begonias, and that’s the most important part.

“I’m sorry, but will you be able to make five bouquets for me right now? The only requirement I have is that there’s begonias in every bouquet. I’ll pay you double.” You spare no time telling the lady at the front counter what you need. She’s a bit startled, unsurprisingly, but she quickly covers it up with a smile.

“We just happened to finish all our orders, so we can definitely get those bouquets arranged for you. It’ll take about twenty minutes though, would that be alright?”

“That’s perfectly fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The employee slips into the back. Moments later, four people come out and start grabbing flowers, including the all-important begonias.

You pull out your phone and text Miriam.

[You: I’m getting the bouquets made now. It’ll take twenty minutes. I should be at your place in about thirty minutes.]

[Miriam: 👍🏻]

[Miriam: Sorry for pushing that onto you so suddenly.]

[You: No worries. I was already out anyways.]

[You: I do have some people with me, is that okay?]

[You: Or should I ask them to drop me off and pick me up later?]

[Miriam: They can come.]

[Miriam: I want some distractions.]

‘I’m not sure how good of a distraction Xavier and Zayne will be.’

Sure, they’re handsome and you wouldn’t say their personalities are bad, but they haven’t done anything particularly...entertaining? To be fair, you haven’t tried doing anything that you’d classify as entertainment with them. They could be very entertaining people.

Guess you’ll find out with Miriam.

Chapter Text

“Those who come out the other side of an aptet infection aren’t sane. They can’t be, in order to survive.”

Zayne thought you’d already shown your ‘insanity’ to him when you made that deal with Francetic, but he was wrong.

“That’s not to say what she did wasn’t crazy, but she did it intentionally.”

He knows you’re hiding something, but he didn’t realize the depth of your secrets. Just how thick is that mask of yours?

“She’s not oblivious to danger nor is she fearless.”

All it took was a brief glimpse. Just the tiniest peek of your internal turmoil was enough to unsettle him. He’s sure part of the reason is your uncanny similarity to Miss Hunter, but it’s not the only reason. What actually unsettled him was how the turmoil in your eyes resembled his own after one of those nightmares. Those nightmares where he kills people that are on the verge of transforming or have already transformed into monsters. He knows how crippling that fear is. It haunts you. It lingers in the darkest depths of your mind. It shifts, reminding you of its presence just as you’re about to forget it. 

When it doesn’t try to swallow you whole, it latches onto your sanity and drains it, like a leech.

“There’re very few situations where she’ll prioritize herself over others.”

Zayne believed what Graham said before, but he’s convinced now, especially after hearing that white lie you told Miriam.

“I just scraped my elbow.”

If that bandage unraveled, your lie would be instantly exposed.

The paper used to wrap the bouquets crinkles as his fingers curl around it.

Was there a point in hiding your sorrow in front of your childhood friend who’s experiencing the same thing?

“Never mind that, let’s go back inside. The wind’s picking up.” You quickly change the topic as you turn Miriam around and usher her back inside the studio. Zayne and Xavier follow you inside with the five begonia bouquets in hand.

You all head into the break room. You have Zayne and Xavier set the bouquets down on the small dining table before shooing them to the couch. Miriam’s already snuggled on one of the lounge chairs with the TV remote. She unpauses the music playlist that’s on the screen. City pop streams into the room, uplifting the solemn atmosphere just a bit.

Miriam turns her body to face the two men sitting on the couch. “Hi, I’m Miriam; it’s nice to meet you. Yu briefly told me about you guys.”  Her gaze falls on the doctor. “Since you have black hair, you must be Zayne.”

‘Yu? Is that your nickname?’ Zayne nods. “Yes. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miriam.”

She smiles before shifting her gaze to Xavier. “Then, you must be Xavier.”

Xavier hums in affirmation. “Mhm.”

“Thank you for coming with Yu, and sorry for how messy I look.”

“It’s not an issue at all,” Zayne reassures. “We’ve heard the situation from the Matchmaker. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Miriam brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. “Thank you…”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I couldn’t do that to people I’ve just met.”

An idea pops up in Zayne’s head. “Then, would you tell us about your history with the Matchmaker?”

Miriam glances over in your direction.

“Go ahead, Miri.” You give your childhood friend the permission she was silently seeking for.

“Yu and I met in junior high. We were in the same home economics elective. She saw me struggling with one of the cooking modules and invited me over to her place to practice. That’s when I found out we lived on the same floor of an apartment complex. After that, we were basically inseparable.” The reminiscing Miriam is calmer. More relaxed, less jittery. The tension is still present, but the string isn’t as taut.

She rests her face against her knees. “We’d spend so much time at each other’s houses. At Yu’s place, we’d cook, solve puzzles, and stargaze. At my place, we’d watch romance shows, play billiards or darts, and make little crafts. It was so much fun, but the best part was how I got the chance to see a different side of her. Before we became friends, I saw Yu as a lone wolf. She just had this unapproachable air to her, and she always seemed disinterested when other classmates tried to interact with her.”

You, a lone wolf? It would’ve been hard for either Zayne or Xavier to imagine, seeing how you interacted with your various connections.

“It’s hard to believe, right?” Miriam giggles. “But it’s true. Back then, Yu was closer to a stoic bodyguard than the amicable matchmaker she is today. She kept to herself and kept interactions at the bare minimum. That’s why I was so surprised when she offered to help me. Later, I learned she was just someone who was content with being alone.”

“I do find life much better with friends though.” You join the conversation as you approach the group with a tray of mismatched cups. You hand everyone a cup before taking a seat on the other lounge chair. “It’s much more entertaining to have people around you.”

Miriam takes a drink of the chocolatey concoction you handed to her. “Hmm, your hot chocolate is always so good. I wish you’d make it for me every day.”

“Didn’t I give you the recipe?”

“It tastes different when you make it.”

You chuckle. “Sure, whatever you say. I made you two some pear ginger ale. It’s just some pear juice, a bit of honey, and some ginger ale— nonalcoholic of course.”

In your hand is just a simple cup of ice water with a sprinkle of salt, so you can rehydrate. You didn’t cry, but you were sweating during your episode, so you needed to replenish your liquid reserves.

“Yu also likes to people watch,” Miriam says, returning to the original topic. “Which also added to her intimidation factor back then. She’d just observe the whole class as they chattered and screwed around during break. Her stare was terrifying because you never knew what was going on inside her head.”

“What does she think about when she’s people watching?” Xavier questions.

“Absolutely nothing. She just watches them. So, if you find her staring at you, feel free to snap her out of her trace.”

“…Yeah, it’s a bad habit of mine.” You sheepishly affirm. “Do tell me if I make you uncomfortable.”

The conversation continues at a similar pace. Miriam chatters while you, Zayne, and Xavier occasionally pop in to make a comment or ask questions. It’s not until the sun starts making its descent beneath the horizon, does the conversation begins to dwindle.

“Oh, and there was one time where Yu got really sick…” Miriam rubs her eyes and yawns, exhausted from today’s ordeals. You get out of your seat and walk over to Miriam.

“You don’t have to force yourself to talk, Miri. You must be tired, just sleep for a bit.”

“But I want to keep talking...” Miriam grumbles. “It’s not often that I get a chance to talk about you…since you always stop me…”

“It’s because you always act like I’m some celebrity when I’m not. “

“What do you mean, you’re not…you were on TV when we were in 8^th grade…”

Zayne doesn’t miss how your fingers twitch. “What in the world are you remembering? I’ve been on some shows for work, but I wasn’t on TV ten years ago.”

Miriam frowns. “Don’t lie to me…”

“I’m not. Why would I lie to you about something like that? You’re being silly.”

Miriam’s retort is too quiet for anyone to hear. You tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear before grabbing a blanket to wrap over your childhood friend. Your eyes stay glued to Miriam until her breathing evens out.

“I’ll clean up. You two can go outside and wait— it’s golden hour. You should enjoy it.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The sky outside is gorgeous, but there’s no one to enjoy it. The two men that stepped outside only did so at your request. Neither of them is interested in looking at the scenery.

They don’t say anything to each other either, because they’re too busy thinking. Thinking about you.

Xavier knows people are bound to have secrets, even with their closest friends and family. There’re always parts that you don’t want to show anyone. Part you’re afraid of showing.

“…Was someone you knew involved?”

“My mentor was. The authorities who took care of the incident were actually Vice agents who noticed something was off. He was working with them on a separate case.”

He’s starting to think that the response you gave him wasn’t completely truthful.

‘She or someone else close to her might’ve personally been involved.’

That would explain her harsh attitude towards The Thread of Malice. It didn’t seem like her mentor was necessarily affected by the incident, so it seemed a little unusual that you held such evident hatred for the novella. It’s entirely possible that you found the adaptation to be distasteful solely because it was a dramatic retelling of a relatively recent tragedy, but he had the feeling that it was more personal than that.

He pulls out his phone and searches for the Mauvais Incident. He selects the article published by the Wakeland Park Zoo website.

[The Mauvais Incident refers to an incident that occurred on 6/17/84 (Lussier) involving students going to Wakeland Park Zoo for a field trip. Due to the wishes of the victims and their family, details have been withheld from the public outside of the perpetrator’s name: Hugh Mauvais. He was declared guilty and sentenced to prison for life without parole. His intentions behind the incident were not disclosed.

There are many speculations regarding this incident, but none of them have been confirmed. The most popular speculations appear to be:

1. Mauvais triggered a mudslide, trapping the students on the bus on their way to the zoo.
2. Due to it being Yuver, the students had to take shelter from the rain in an event center located within the Wakeland Zoo Park, where Mauvais was. He trapped them inside and drugged them with the intent of “playing a game” with them.
3. Mauvais, disguised as the bus driver, brought the students to an abandoned site and used them to obtain a ransom.

We would like to remind the audience not to harass Wakeland Park Zoo employees for information regarding this incident. Legal action will be taken immediately against those who attempt to harass, assault, threaten, or bribe staff members.]

The article barely has any information which Xavier expected, but it provided him with one piece of information he wanted: the date. Since you revealed that you were in eighth grade a decade ago, which meant you were a student, there was a chance that you were directly involved in the incident as one of the victims.

Of course, the information he obtained isn’t enough to make any assumptions, let alone reach a conclusion, but it’s a step closer to finding out.

He’s about to write the information down in his notes when a question flashes through his head.

‘Why am I looking into this?’

Why does it matter if you were a victim of this incident? If he wanted to do research on you and figure out your intentions, it would be more effective to investigate your more recent history. Did he want to learn about your backstory in order to grasp your motives? Wouldn’t it be better to investigate something else? Like a way to return to where he belongs.

He’s maintaining an amicable relationship with you, partially out of convenience and partially out of respect for the cardiac surgeon. He has no reason to go out of his way to investigate this. It won’t change anything.

It shouldn’t change anything.

Zayne knows you won’t tell them anything. It’s clear that you have the tendency to tell half-truths, even to your close friends.

He wants to wait for you to unveil the truth yourself, but how long will it take for you to do that? What if you don’t? Your habit of hiding information seems to occur when you believe it’ll inconvenience the other party. You won’t hide information that’s important, but you’ll gloss over anything that’ll ‘tie’ someone down to you. He’d need a few more cases to confirm the pattern, but that’s how it appears to him.

“Later, I learned she was just someone who was content with being alone.”

Are you content with being alone, or do you expect to be alone?

Would you let him learn enough about you to determine the answer to such a question? Or will you keep him at an arm’s length away while you guide him through this world?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You decide to stay at the studio with Miriam. Knowing her, she’ll get upset that you stayed around instead of going back home to rest since she knows you’re still recovering from a bad cold. You also know that she’ll appreciate your company. Days like these are better spent with someone rather than alone.

‘It’ll give them some space from me.’ You tell yourself as you step back into the studio. Zayne and Xavier didn’t say anything after you told them that you’ll just take a taxi back home. You didn’t really want to, because while you could afford the taxi fare, it was still stupid expensive. It would be ridiculous to ask them to accompany you for any longer though.  

Miriam’s fast asleep when you return to the break room, though now she’s lying on the couch rather than sitting in the lounge chair. You moved her there before going out to tell the men your plans for the rest of the evening. Using the remote, you turn down the music just enough, so it quietly hums through the room. Miriam always slept with some music on, so you didn’t want to turn it off, but you weren’t in the mood to listen to it.

Vrrr, vrrr.

You retrieve your phone from your purse as you take a seat at the dining table.

[Walter: Did Miri tell you the situation?]

[You: About the deaths? Yes.]

[You: But she didn’t tell me who passed.]

[Walter: It was Lauren, Angelica, Rose, Lance, and Jacob.]

Walter doesn’t work for a mortuary or anything, but he ended up developing a similar sequela to yours, so he’s usually the first to find out if someone within ‘the group’ passes.

[You: I see. Thanks for telling me.]

It’s much easier to hold your composure when you’re just texting someone.

[You: How are you holding up?]

[Walter: I hate to admit this, but I think I’m going numb from it all.]

[Walter: Drake broke down crying when I went to tell him. You know he doesn’t like crying in front of others.]

[Walter: So many of us died despite us trying so hard to survive.]

[Walter: There’s only twelve of us left. More than half of our classmates died, and we’re only in our twenties.]

[Walter: Yu, this isn’t right.]

You stare at Walter’s most recent message, fingers hovering over your keyboard. You don’t know how to respond. You’re not even sure if you should respond. The thoughts running through your head are all ones that your mentor told you not to act on.

“If you resort to that, you won’t be able to stand in the light. Killing a shadow means turning into one yourself.”

‘You are someone that needs to stand on the boundary line. You can’t fall off the tightrope.’

You type out a generic response and press send. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else.

[You: You’re right. It isn’t fair.]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

After grabbing an infusion and the infusion kit from their designated spots in the kitchen, Zayne grabs the car keys and his wallet and heads towards the door. He’s passing the stairs when Xavier’s voice stops him.

“Wait for me.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when Xavier makes his way to the foyer, the cardiac surgeon’s waiting for him at the door.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You’re walking back to the studio from the restaurant across the street when a familiar car pulls into the parking lot. Your steps slow down as you slowly approach the building, unsure if it’s actually the car you’re thinking it is. Sure enough, the license plate on the back has a familiar combination of letters and numbers.

‘Why are they back?’ You rush over to the car as Xavier and Zayne get out of the car. “Did you forget something?”

“No,” Zayne replies as he grabs a bag from the back seat. “But you need to get your evening infusion.”

It's a reasonable excuse, but it still feels like a stretch. 

You turn to look at Xavier, who shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t feel like sleeping yet.”

Now his excuse is ridiculous. He's been sleeping every chance he gets. 

‘Just what are these men doing?’

Chapter Text

Beluga is a simple game. It’s similar to Authors, where players choose an opponent and request a desired card by rank and suit. If the opponent has the card, they must give it to the player, and the player’s turn continues as long as they keep receiving the card requested. As soon as a player collects four cards of the same rank, they will lay the cards face down. The game generally starts with the player left to the dealer and ends when all cards have been laid down. The winner is the person with the most sets. Beluga follows the same set up, but there’s one additional rule: if the opponent doesn’t have the card the player requests, they have a chance to request a card from the player.

Whenever you played Beluga with Miriam, the winner could request the loser to do one thing. Of course, that rule applies to the game you’re currently playing, because you never denied Miriam unless her antics had the potential to get her in some bad trouble. She never won against you anyways.

“Yu, do you have the queen of hearts?” Miriam asks as she glances over the cards in her hands.

“Nope,” you reply. Miriam’s cheeks puff up and her eyebrows furrow.

You did have a queen in your hand, but it’s the queen of spades. 

“Do you have the ten…” you watch as Miriam shifts in her seat. “Of clovers?”

The corner of her lip twitches. “I don’t!”

‘She’s happy I guessed wrong.’ You chuckle internally. Not only is your childhood friend easy to read, Beluga is just easy to play when there’s only two people. All you need to do is ask for cards that you don’t have in your hand, since the other half of the deck is within your opponent’s hand. There’re ways to make it harder, but Miriam likes to play Beluga with the standard rules. Unfortunately for her, it just means she’ll keep losing when she plays it one on one with you.

“Okay, then it’s Xavier’s turn.”

Xavier takes a second to think before making his request, “Matchmaker, do you have the queen of spades?”

You grab the card on the far right and hand it to him.

“The ace of clovers?”

You hand him the third card to the right.

“Six of spades?”

“I don’t have that one. Do you have to ten of diamonds?”

He hands you the second card to the left.

“Ten of spades?”

“I don’t have that one.”

Next, is Zayne. Then you, and then Miriam before it’s back to Xavier. You pick up on how everyone’s mostly choosing you as their opponent. Maybe it’s because they’re all familiar with you, but you have an inkling it’s because they really want you to lose.

Miriam’s request won’t be difficult, most likely. She doesn’t have the brainpower nor the will to think of something beyond slightly mischievous— like making you wear cosplay with cat ears and a tail out in public. Embarrassing? Absolutely. Deadly? Maybe to your public image and psyche, but not your physical body.

Miriam ends up losing, much to her dismay. But she’s happy to see that you didn’t win either— Zayne and Xavier ended up tying with four sets each. You ended up with three while Miriam got two.

‘They caught on pretty well.’ You start picking up the cards to return them to their case. “Miri, did you want them to play another game to see who’s the final winner?”

Since she’s the one who lost, she would be the one fulfilling their requests.

“It’s fine; I’ll just listen to what they both want.” Miriam sighs in defeat. “Just know that I can refuse it if it’s something I’m not comfortable with.”

Both of the men nod their heads.

You fiddle with the IV line that’s attached to you as you wait to hear their requests. Miriam can be bad at refusing people, so you had to be prepared to step in just in case, not that you think Zayne and Xavier would try to request anything heinous.

“Would it be possible for us to make the request at a later date?” Zayne says after a few moments of thoughtful silence.

“Sure!” Miriam agrees. “I’ll give you my phone number so you can message me whenever.”

The corners of your lips tilt slightly downwards. You aren’t interested in the request, but it’s hard to step in when you don’t know if the line is being crossed or not. Still, you don’t verbalize your feelings, since Miriam might find it overbearing.

‘She’s a grown adult; she can take care of herself.’ You try to soothe your growing nerves, though it doesn’t really work.

“Yu?”

Someone touches your hand. You blink, and the haze that covered your vision cleared up.

“Yes?” You reach over and adjust Miriam’s sleeve.

“Did you want to bring Xavier and Zayne to the memorial tomorrow?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, but I’m not sure if Drake and Walter would be okay with bringing strangers.”

To cope with the grief, Walter made a memorial for the friends we’ve lost throughout the years. We make it a habit to visit the memorial every so often, and when there’s deaths, we add their names to the stone. He didn’t officially invite you or Miriam, but you know he’s going to be there tomorrow. Drake would likely be there as well.

Walter might not mind, but Drake has reservations about bringing people who weren’t directly involved in the situation to the memorial site.

“We can call them and ask! I’m sure they’ll be okay with it once I tell them that Xavier and Zayne are supporting you while you recover.”

“We can try, but there’s no need to push it. I’m feeling much better now.”

“The last time I heard you say that you passed out on the floor two hours later,” Miriam remarks as she grabs her phone from the table. You watch her go through her contacts and select Drake Hollis. She brings the device up to her ear and reaches for your hand— the one that isn’t attached to the IV.

“Hello?” You hear Drake’s voice as soon as the phone stops ringing.

“Hi.”

“…Miri? Is there something you wanted?”

“You’re going to the memorial tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, since we have to add names to it. We’re going to do it together, no matter what.”

We’re going to survive, no matter what.

“I was just wondering if Yu could bring some people with her.”

Drake’s voice turns cold. “What people?”

“She’s recovering from a bad cold, and these people have been taking care of her. I thought it would be better if she brought them with her—”

“No.” He cuts her off. “I’m not letting strangers near the memorial. What if they ruin it? If Yu’s in such a bad condition, then she shouldn’t come anyways. The hike to get there is terrible.”

Miriam squeezes your hand. “They wouldn’t do that…”

“You never know with people, Miri. Kindness can be faked.”

You lean closer to Miriam and talk through the phone. “Miri’s just being paranoid. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“If you’re having another flare up, then you really shouldn’t go.”

“I just got a cold that knocked the wind out of me for a bit. I’m mostly recovered now. Also, don’t get too upset with Miri. She’s just worried about me.”

“I wasn’t upset,” Drake retaliates, though there isn’t much bite to it. “But really, don’t force yourself to come.”

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything.”

You hear him click his tongue. “Your caretakers can’t come with us to the memorial, but I won’t say anything if they stay in the area. Let them go to that fruit orchard or something.”

The fruit orchard he’s talking about is Jubilation Orchard. It’s on the northern outskirts of the Yoan District and is known for its pears and plums. You’ve never spent much time there, but many of your old acquaintances and friends used that spot as an after-school hang out place. Miriam loves their pears and always buys juice from them when they’re in season. You’re ninety percent sure that she spent her first paycheck on pear juice and some other products from the orchard.

“I’ll ask them to see what they want to do.”

“Just know that I’m not going to let them near the memorial no matter what anyone says.  That place is only for us.”

“Don’t worry, I know.” You didn’t even want to bring them in the first place. It isn’t because of the sentiment or value; you just didn’t see the reason behind bringing them. They had no association with the memorial, and you doubt they’d be interested anyways.

“Well, thanks for answering,” Miriam grumbles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Miriam tosses her phone back onto the table. “Why is he so fussy about things like that!”

“He’s probably anxious. Our last memorial for them was ruined, remember? And we don’t even know who did it,” you remind your childhood friend with a soft voice.

“Still…” she pouts. You reach over and rub her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.” You lower your voice. “Plus, you wouldn’t want such handsome men to see your ugly crying, right?”

“Well, yeah…but that isn’t a big concern! What if you suddenly develop a fever and pass out?”

“That won’t happen. I’ve been diligently taking my medicine.” You lift your arm that has the IV line still attached.

“Then make sure to at least ask them if they want to go to Jubilation’s. I’m going to the bathroom— I drank too much.”

You pull away to give Miriam enough space to leave. Right on cue, Zayne and Xavier approached you. The pair insisted on washing the cups and throwing out the trash. After that, they stayed away to give you and Miriam some privacy.

Zayne carefully detaches the finished infusion and applies a bandage on the back of your hand. He’s about to bring your hand to his face when he stops. He sets your hand down onto your lap and takes a step back. No one acknowledges the slip up.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be heading to a memorial with Miri and a couple other friends,” you inform. “Miri wanted to invite you two since she was worried about me, but Drake isn’t comfortable with that idea, so he suggested that you guys could go to Jubilation’s Orchard. It’s near the memorial site, and the orchard has events to celebrate the Harvest Festival. Tomorrow, there should be a fruit picking contest and an event where you can make jams and fruit preserves.”  

“Where is this place?” Xavier questions.

“It’s in the northern part of the Yoan District, near my old junior high school. It’s a bit more on the rural side, so it’s a nice place to visit when you want to be somewhere quiet, even when it’s festival time.”

Jubilation Orchard will be quite rowdy, but the surrounding area won’t get much louder. It’s honestly a great place to relax. You go there whenever you have to unwind from the busy city life.

“Would you like us to go?” Zayne asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s really up to you. We’re going to carpool, so I won’t need a ride or anything. You could also go to the Inner City— there’s a lot of events that you can participate in. Risti will have a lot of street performances and crafting events if you’re interested in stuff like that. You’re free to just stay at home as well. I’m sure the kitties would love to have your company.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer.”

“Yeah, me too,” Xavier yawns.

You look at your phone to check the time. ‘It’s almost midnight.’

“You two should head back now, it’s pretty late,” you suggest.

“What about you?”

“I still plan on staying here, since Miriam probably won’t leave.”

“Why don’t you ask her to come over to your place?” Zayne didn’t necessarily know how safe this neighborhood is, so it felt wrong to just leave you and Miriam here, even if the two of you were more familiar with the area.

“I don’t want to disturb you two.”

Disturb them?

“It’s your house. You can do whatever you want.” Xavier says as he starts fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

The door to the break room swings open, and Miriam shuffles in. All three of you look over at her. She slowly makes her way over; her steps filled with curiosity. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Would you be alright with staying the night at the Matchmaker’s house?” Xavier asks without missing a beat. “She wants to stay with you and refuses to go home because of that.”

Miriam directs all her attention to you. “Were you planning on sleeping at the studio with me?”

“…Yeah,” you answer.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve stayed overnight at the studio a million times by myself. You’re also still recovering, so you need to be getting some proper rest.”

“I wasn’t worried about you spending the night here; I just wanted to spend more time with you. I’m always busy with work, so I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity.”

Miriam places her hands on her hips. “Then I’ll go to your place. I’ll tell Walter to pick us up from there.”

They don’t give you the chance to make any further arguments.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Walter takes one look at you and instantly frowns. You take a step closer to him and whisper, “I already know.”

“What did you do to get like this?” He questions. His sequela is one that’s constantly on— meaning you couldn’t hide from it even if you wanted to. “I knew something happened to you a couple weeks ago, but it’s much worse in person.”

“I went overboard altering some bonds,” you admit. “It was an emergency.”

“Yu, if something happens to you, Drake and Miriam won’t be able to handle it.”

“Nothing will happen to me.”

You say that, but you can’t see the azure flame flickering beside the spider’s silk connected to your heart. You can’t see how its ghastly tendrils lick against the thread, causing it to flinch and shrink. You’re barely holding on.

“Not to mention, you’ll still be here, right? You three will support each other just fine.”

Walter bites the inside of his lip. He might be a pillar that supports the roof to prevent it from collapsing, but you…you’re the floor they’ve been standing on. Even if no one else realized that, Walter has. He’s known for a very long time.

Because without you, they would’ve died on that rainy day.

“You’re important to me too,” he mutters.

Zayne enters the foyer to see Walter’s crestfallen expression. He watches you pat the man on the shoulder.

“I’m aware.”

Walter is a complete stranger to Zayne, but the cardiac surgeon can tell that the man can’t seem to bring himself to bring your words. The way Walter shifts his weight from one leg to another reveals the conflict in his heart. He wants to trust you but struggles to. There’s history behind his nonverbal behavior, and Zayne wonders if that history will tell him what he wants to know.

Your childhood friend notices the man on the other side of the foyer. “Yu, this person is…”

Right, you never mentioned Zayne and Xavier to Walter. So much has been going on recently that it’s hard to remember who you’ve told about your guests. “That’s Zayne. He’s one of my guests. There’s a few more, but the only other one that’s here at the moment is Xavier. He’s probably upstairs sleeping.”

“Yu~! Where is your Memoir perfume? The one that smells like grapefruit and peaches?” Miriam’s voice comes out from the master bedroom.

You make your way back down the hall, and stop when you’re standing beside Zayne, since he’s standing right by the bedroom. “It’s the third bottle on the second shelf. They changed the packaging since you’ve last used it.”

“Oh. It’s such lackluster packaging now.”

“But now I don’t have to pry the cap off to get the last drops of fragrance.”

The heaviness in the atmosphere lifted with a simple spritz of bittersweet citrus and fresh peaches.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Miriam leaves your room wearing a pair of distressed jeans and a simple short-sleeved blouse she borrowed from your closet. She chose a more casual look, while you opted for some long sports wear. The hike to the memorial site isn’t particularly difficult, but it takes fifteen to twenty minutes.

You turn around to face Zayne. “Have you decided on what you want to do today?”

“No,” he responds.

“Well, let me know if you leave the house, just so I know if I should be expecting to see you when I get back.”

“Alright.”

“Then, I’ll be heading out.”

Once you and Miriam put on your shoes, you left, and as soon as the front door shut, Zayne heard shuffling coming from upstairs. A thick ball of fluff lands on Zayne’s shoulder. He brings his hand up to stabilize Cinder, who starts rubbing his head against Zayne’s face.

The kitties love sleeping with Xavier.

“Are you planning on going to the orchard?” Xavier makes his way down the stairs with Char in his arms.

“No. I made an arrangement with Fiordispina. I need to return the documents she let me borrow. Are you going?”

“I’m not leaving today,” Xavier lies as easily as he breathes. He’s wearing white slacks and a black button-up clothes that he wouldn’t be wearing if he intended on staying home.

Zayne doesn’t comment on it, since it’s none of his business and he’s not particularly interested in the hunter’s itinerary.

“I won’t be back until mid-afternoon at the earliest,” he informs. “The cats have already been given breakfast. If I’m not back by the evening, please feed the cats. The feeding instructions are downstairs on the table by their bowls.”

“Okay.” Xavier nods as his hand moves to scratch Char behind his ears. Char happily leans into Xavier’s touch, purring relentlessly.

The doctor places the cat on his shoulder and places him on the ground. He gives Cinder a few head pats before making his way to the door. Xavier watches Zayne as he leaves before, he himself vanishes back up the stairs.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Xavier leaps over the gate. Since it’s the Harvest Festival, the schools were closed, making it the perfect time to do some snooping. He just wants to confirm his suspicions— nothing more. He won’t deny his curiosity, but he’s not necessarily invested in you.

He slips into the main building without any issues. Security is rather lax when school isn’t in session. He wanders through the hallways, looking at the various bulletin boards and posters on the walls. He doesn’t go into any of the classrooms, mostly out of laziness. It’s not until he stumbles upon a door that’s tucked away in a corner does his interest get piqued.

The door isn’t any different from the other ones in the school, but there isn’t a sign next to it, indicating it’s use or classroom number. It’s possible that it’s just an unmarked janitor’s closet, but his instincts tell him otherwise. He takes a peek through the window on the adjacent wall.

‘There’s more rooms. This must lead to another hallway.’

He teleports to the other side— and viola: more rooms.

The hallway is narrower than the other ones in the school, and the classroom doors are sliding doors rather than the normal hinged doors. Instead of tiles, the floor is comprised of wooden floorboards, which creak with every step Xavier takes.

Without a doubt, this is a remnant of the past. Xavier peers into the classrooms. Some desks have letters and photos on top of them, while others have nothing. He approaches a random desk in one of the three classrooms and begins to read the contents of the letter on top of it.

[12/15/88 (Lussier). The devil has taken another one. This time, it wore the skin of a sar— one of Misha’s followers. It was a well-made disguise. No one noticed its true nature, except for me.]

Xavier walks over to another desk and finds a similarly written note.

[9/27/90 (Lussier). The devil has gotten even better at taking lives. I must hurry and find a solution before it’s too late. If I can’t resolve this, she’ll do something rash.]

[5/10/91 (Lussier) Another loss...]

[8/3/84 (Lussier)…]

[6/20/85 (Lussier)…]

[14/1/86 (Lussier)…]

[1/20/85 (Lussier)…]

[2/11/92 (Lussier)…]

[10/23/89 (Lussier)…]

[11/19/84 (Lussier)…]

[17/29/86 (Lussier)…]

[10/1/94 (Lussier)…]

[9/36/94 (Lussier)…]

[9/36/94 (Lussier)…]

[10/1/94 (Lussier)…]

[10/1/94 (Lussier)… I had Miriam tell her. It’s a terrible idea, but it had to be done. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise, but I’m scared. I’m scared she’ll leave us behind to protect us. We’re barely hanging onto her as it is.]

Xavier’s heart throbs at the last couple of sentences he read. It hit too close to home.

He clenches his fist tightly before he moves to look around for more clues.

It doesn’t take long for him to find something. Located beneath the teacher’s podium, is a small binder. He takes the binder and opens it, revealing dozens of photos.

This classroom once held a class of twenty-eight students. With varied expressions, they were all the epitome of youth.

The hunter focused on the adolescent girl standing in the corner of the class photo he’s looking at. She had an unapproachable air that resembled a stoic bodyguard, and she looked completely disinterested in the little bonding activity they were doing. The girl’s physical appearance was different from yours, but that could be chalked up to puberty and cosmetics.

Xavier doesn’t doubt that this girl is you.

‘That last note must be talking about the Matchmaker.’

If his conclusion is correct, then he and you share many similarities, and that spells trouble.

Chapter Text

Thirty anemones laid out on the foot

of the girl’s bed.

Four candles, three of which are lit,

wait patiently for their final comrade

to ignite.

Soft whispers,

tearful reassurances,

and love unique to this child and her mother,

cause the flames to flicker.

It’s time, yet

the one who arrives with the fragrance

of begonias is not Misha,

the horsemen of disease,

but a divine being shrouded in the night;

tis the overseer of death herself.

“My shears were dull;

thus, this child’s life thread is frayed,”

the goddess whispers,

“in this rare moment of uncertainty,

you shall be given a candle’s worth of extra time.”

The mother drops the match

and rushes to her daughter’s side,

pulling her into a tight embrace.

Together,

they sing the child’s favorite song

over and over again,

until the sun rises from the horizon.

In her mother’s embrace,

the child smiles and reaches towards

the darkness that stood patiently in the corner of the room.

“Thank you,” the daughter whispers.

She can finally see the colors hidden within the abyss.

There is nothing to fear.

The divine being steps forward,

and takes the child’s outstretched hand.

The final candle lights,

and the child’s vessel begins to lose its warmth.

“When your time arrives,

and my horsemen guide you to Elyshe,

you will find your treasure singing

amongst the most vibrant poppy flowers.”

“Is that a promise?” the woman gazes upon death,

holding hope within her delicate chest.

“This is no vow, but the inevitable.”

-        Helvetia Garamond

Chapter Text

As a matchmaker, your job is to find compatible marriage partners for your clients. You assess your clients’ personalities, preferences, goals, and other considerations before introducing them to potential matches which align with their needs. You also provide assistance and guidance wherever necessary, making sure to streamline the process, saving the clients’ time and energy while also helping them improve their communication skills, confidence, and dating strategies.

As the Matchmaker, you use your sequelae to delve into people’s connections in life. Your sight doesn’t just show you someone’s relationships, but also their emotional, social, and spiritual ties. If you want to, you could perceive someone’s entire existence— from their innocent hopes to their dirtiest sins. You don’t, for ethical and moral reasons, but you could. That’s what makes you so valuable, and dangerous. This, along with the fact that you have the ability to alter these connections, is the main reason why you must stay on the boundary line. The moment you fall into the dark end, your life is over. You’d become a free-for-all for the wolves living in the shadows. You might be reckless and impulsive, but you don’t actually want a bounty on your head.

However, the temptation to become a wolf is currently gnawing at your throat right now.

You glare at the woman leaning against her car. Her clothes and face might be different, but all she did is alter her physical appearance. That’s not enough to deceive you, not when your eyes that can see beyond that. She can’t hide that despicable, dark magenta thread from you.

Noticing your expression, Miriam asks, “What’s wrong? Is that lady someone you know…?”

“Unfortunately,” you reply through gritted teeth.

The woman standing by her car is none other than Cleo Gearheart, the author of the vile Thread of Malice. You’ve interacted with her once in your lifetime. She was that insistent news reporter that kept trying to contact you in order to get information about the Mauvais Incident. Most of the time, Egan or one of his acquaintances would intercept her, but there was one time when she managed to slip past them.

Back then, you hadn’t developed your ability to alter bonds. So, you couldn’t do anything except scream at her before running away. “Leave me alone! I’m not going to let someone as malicious as you interview me!”  

Two years later, that woman published Thread of Malice, calling it a narrative nonfiction out of all things. It was incredulous.

What she created was nothing but an insult. If it weren’t for the fact that no one wanted to dig up that past, you would’ve sued the hell out of her. You’ve even contemplated burning her house down, but the house did nothing wrong, so you didn’t do it in the end.

“I like to avoid violence, but I’m not against it. It’s a situational thing.”

“Sounds like getting on your bad side isn’t a good thing,”

“I don’t have the physical means to hurt you, so rest assured.”

“Why do I feel like that’s worse?”

 “Who knows. I’m only a meek Matchmaker with the ability to see your fate bonds.”

You scoff as you recall your conversation with Zayne and Xavier over lunch yesterday. Calling yourself meek is the funniest thing you’ve done recently.

“You know,” you sneer as you approach the disguised Cleo, who turns around at the sound of your voice. “Out of all the days, you chose today to appear in front of me? I hope you aren’t responsible for the reason I was forced to come here for.”

You hated the memorial site, as beautiful as it is. The glade is filled with bright token poppies and elegant qetsel anemones, and the stone monument at the center of it was crafted with so much care by Walter, Drake and Trey. It’s a wonderful place, but it’s also the embodiment of your failure— your greatest sin.

You slam your hand against the window beside her head. She practically jumps out of her skin in response to your aggression.

“Yu!” Drake exclaims. “What are you doing?!”  

He rushes over and grabs you by the shoulder to pull you away from Cleo. You don’t bother to even look at him.

“Tell me, did you kill them?” You demand.

Drake’s grip falters at your words. You take the chance to slam your fist against the window again.

A twisted sense of glee rushes through your veins when you see the fear swimming around in Cleo’s eyes.

“I, I…” Cleo splutters. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Is that so?” You stare at the dark magenta bond that’s hovering in the air.

“Wh, what’s the deal with you?! Suddenly coming over and cornering me like this!” As much as she tries, Cleo can’t conceal her panic. “I’m going to charge you for assault!”

“Go right ahead, Miss Gearheart. There’s a police officer right here.” You use your head to motion at Drake.

She flinches and immediately snaps her mouth shut. She’s not startled by Drake, but by the name you just used.

“Why are you so surprised?” You lean in and lower your voice. “You’re the one who told the world that the student you interviewed had the power to see threads of malice. With that sort of superpower, why wouldn’t she be able to recognize you? Your malice is just as vivid, if not more, as that abhorrent man’s.”

Blood drains out of Cleo’s face as the special effects of your perfume wear off, revealing your true appearance to her.

“What’s going on here?” Drake finally pulls you away from Cleo. “Why are you being so aggressive? You’re even throwing around some crazy claims.”

“I don’t actually think this woman killed anyone.” You push Drake’s hand off your shoulder and take a step away from Cleo. You would’ve loved to break her nose, but you aren’t stupid enough to do it in front of Drake. Plus, Walter and Miriam are probably watching the scene unfold in the distance. “She’s nothing but a cheetah pretending to be lioness.”

Cheetahs possess incredibly refined bodies for speed and aerodynamics, not for strength or fighting. With its weak haws and small teeth, they can’t fight larger predators to protect its kill or its young. Because of that, cheetahs are inherently cautious and skittish.  The only reason why this cheetah dares to confront other predators is because of the lioness pelt that was gifted to her.

With the way she’s reacting, someone must’ve taken away her pelt.

“If you want to bring me to the office with her, you can.” You finally turn your head towards Drake. You’re smiling, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

The off-duty police officer sighs. “I don’t want to do that, so please explain the situation with me before I have to.”

“Mmm…” you tap your chin. “There’s a couple of grievances I have with her?”

“A grievance? Not a grudge?”

“Well, if I called it a grudge, wouldn’t that be used against me as a motive?”

“I’m asking as a friend, not as a member of law enforcement.”

“Still, I can’t tell you everything or…”

Out of nowhere, you feel someone grabbing onto your arm. Unlikely Drake’s firm grasp, it’s hesitant. You’d say there’s even sone desperation.

You pull your arm away and glare at Cleo. “What are you doing?”

“Please…help me,” Cleo pleads. “I beg of you…”

You frown. ‘Why is she asking me for help?’

You don’t believe her for a second.

“Please, please…I can’t take this anymore…”

The smart move would be to let the literally police officer handle the situation, and that’s what you decide to you. You’re about to step away when Cleo snatches your arm.

“Please! You have to help me! Only you, only you can! You’re the only one here who can help me!”

“Yu, let me take over.”

Drake’s about to step in front of you when you stop him. “No, I’ll handle it.”  

You gently wrap your hands around Cleo’s forearm and guide her to take a seat on the asphalt. While maintaining steady eye contact with the news reporter, you pull your phone out from your pocket and unlock it.

“Call the ninth division,” you make a request to your virtual assistant as soon as it activates.

“Calling the ninth division,” the assistant responds.

You take the chance to properly activate your sight sequela. “Keep your eyes on me, or else I won’t help you.”

Cleo’s eyes swim back and forth a bit, but she does her best to do as you say.

‘Her bonds, most of them are cut… no, they’ve been completely removed.’

Things change over time— that’s simply how the world works. But what you’re witnessing isn’t something you can chalk up to ‘inevitability.’ The bonds Cleo should have attached to her are gone. Her husband, her two children… even her joy, prosperity, animosity. They’ve been exterminated by someone. Someone like you. All that remains is fear, malice, and her life bond.

If this was an act of vengeance against her, you would understand why someone would keep Cleo’s fear and life bonds intact. What didn’t make any sense to you is the fact that her malice bond is also present, albeit it’s barely perceivable compared to the others. You just have a heightened sensitivity to malice, which is why your sight partially activated once she was within your vicinity.

Your bond alteration ability doesn’t work on bonds that have been completely removed. So even if you wanted to, which you didn’t, you couldn’t help you. Only time will tell whether she’ll ever recover them.

That doesn’t mean you can’t help Cleo with the other issue she’s having.

“Public Safety and Disease Management Agency’s Ninth Division, this is Benedict. How may I assist you today?” Your call is answered on the third ring.

“Benedict, I have a case near Jubilation Orchard. I’m located in the parking lot near the forest.”

“Oh, Miss Matchmaker! I’ll notify Reuben right away. He’s at the orchard picking up some fruits, so it shouldn’t take him long to arrive.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Then, please have a nice day.”

“You as well.” You end the call.

“Please help me, please help me…” Cleo continues to sob. “You’re the only one left, you’re the only one left.”

‘She was acting completely normal earlier. What’s going on?’

What triggered this reaction? Was it your face, or the name?

“Why am I the only one?” You ask her.

“Why? Why? Why…are you the only one?” Cleo parrots.

Her nails dig into your arm, causing you to inadvertently hiss.

“Yu!”

Even with Drake trying to pry her hands off your arms, Cleo refuses to let go. “If not you, who else? Who else can save me? Who else has the power to control fate?”

It’s your turn to be startled. ‘She’s completely out of her mind. I need Reuben to get here and take her away!’

“I don’t know how that idea got in your head, but I can’t control fate.”

“Liar! You can control fate! I saw you, I saw you, I saw you!”

‘She saw me?’

“You fixed them! YOU FIXED THEM!”

Drake clicks his tongue. “Tch…! Let go of her!”

A sharp whistle pierces through the chaos.

“Alright, it’s time to settle down.”

Two large shadows appear in your periphery. Even without looking, you know you they are. That low, somewhat rough voice belongs to Reuben while that blueberry cheesecake cologne could only belong to Levin: Reuben’s supervisor.

Reuben squats down and looks at Cleo. “You shouldn’t be screaming at someone if you want them to help you, y’know? That’s how you get them to not want to help you.”

“She has to help me! She has to, she has to, she has to!” Cleo screams. “She has to—”

Cleo’s eyes roll back, and she slumps forward, suddenly unconscious. Reuben catches her before she lands on top of you. You look over and notice a tiny apparatus in her neck. It’s one of Fiordispina’s miniature injection devices.

‘When did they manage to attach that to her?’

Drake helps you up before he begins to assess the damage done to your arms. “You idiot…”

He doesn’t mean it.

“Yu!” Miriam and Walter take the opportunity to rush over to your side.

Miriam’s appalled by the state of your arms. “Oh, dear elyshe! Your arms are all ripped up! You’re definitely going to need stitches or something.”

You shake your head. “They aren’t that deep.”

Compared to the others you inflicted on yourself, they aren’t that bad. Yes, they still hurt.

“Do you want my first aid kit?” Levin joins your little huddle. “Ooh, that looks painful…”

“I have some medical supplies in the car,” Walter informs.

Levin nods. “I’ll go and assist Reuben then.”

He pats you on the head. “Sorry for letting you get injured.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Levin walks away and you’re pulled into Walter’s car for immediate medical attention. The job, which only requires one person to perform, is performed by all three of your friends. Walter carefully washes the wounds while Miriam pats your skin dry and applies some ointment, then Drake steps in to bandage everything together. By the time you’re all patched up, your arms are an amateur art piece, especially with all of the colorful bandages the police officer used on you.

“So…who was that lady?” Miriam asks you as soon as Walter starts the engine.

Your response is a casual, “Someone I have a personal vendetta with.”

“Now it’s a vendetta?” Drake looks over at you from the passenger seat. “Earlier, you didn’t even want to call it a grudge.”

“Because it wasn’t a grudge— just a little grievance. And now, it’s a vendetta.”

You don’t see Drake rolling his eyes, but you know that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Will you be okay?” Walter questions. “She seemed…pretty adamant that you were the only one who could help her.”

“She’ll be under some restrictions for a while, so I should be fine for the time being.”

“You also have Xavier and Zayne taking care of you. I’m sure if you tell them about what happened, they’ll be more than willing to help you out.” Miriam chips in.

“I can file a case for you too,” Drake mentions.

“No need. Honestly, I think she won’t try to approach me once she gets the medical attention she needs. She was probably delirious or something. I also probably scared her quite a bit.”

“I was shocked when you did that,” Miriam admits. “I never knew you could be so aggressive.”

“I let my emotions get ahead of me. I really should’ve checked before I approached her. If she had been someone else… that would’ve been bad.”

Drake scoffed. “It would’ve been bad regardless of if it was the right person or not. You could’ve gotten arrested.”

“So, Mr. police officer is going to turn a blind eye?” You grin.

“Only this time, Miss Yu.”

The car slowly fills up with gentle laughter before descending into comfortable silence. You turn your attention to the scenery outside.

Cleo’s situation is concerning, regardless of how you try to twist it. It doesn’t matter if her bonds were genuinely destroyed or if she was collaborating with someone who’s able to deceive your sequela, there’s something unusual going on, and whatever it is, you seem to be the target.

‘I need to clean this up before it gets any messier.’

If this drags on for too long, the people around you are going to suffer. You can’t have that happening. Not when everyone else has their own business to take care of.

Occupied with your own thoughts, you don’t notice Walter’s tense shoulders or his death grip on the steering wheel. He’s trying his best to stay calm, but he can’t. The flame is scorching your thread again. ‘If I don’t do something soon, she’s going to disappear. I have to hurry.’

Chapter Text

While you were at the memorial site, Zayne met up with Fiordispina at a local teaching hospital called Anthesis. The hospital specializes in orthopedics, prosthetics, and other medical implant devices. Of course, Zayne knew none of them until he arrived. Fiordispina just sent him the address as soon as he requested to meet up with her.

“Their annual fundraiser is coming up in the next couple of days, so I’m helping out with some of the planning and organization,” she explains as she takes Zayne through a hallway covered in artwork. They’re taking the scenic route to her personal break room. “I came here to pay off some debt I had with an old friend.”

There’s a layer of sentimentality in Fiordispina’s voice. It almost makes Zayne wonder how she got to where she is now.

“How has your time in Regina been so far?” Fiordispina inquires as they pass a landscape filled with token poppies and qetsel anemones. Zayne takes a moment to admire the piece before answering her question.

“It’s an interesting city.”

Unlike the others, he’s only spent a small amount of time outside. For the most part, he’s been at your house, doing research and monitoring your condition. Still, from the small glimpses he’s had of Regina, it’s a lively city.

“How does it compare to the place you’re from?”

“There are some similarities, but it’s quite different. The atmosphere here is…livelier in a sense. The architecture also has more flair, like the foreign historical towns I’ve traveled to.”

Regina had the typical modern builds made of concrete and steel pillars, but it also had a healthy amount of buildings with French or Italian style architecture.

“It feels like this city takes pride in its history,” he adds. “The technological advances of this place aren’t placed at the forefront.”

He’s read into chip implant that allow people to become “soulmates” with one other, androids that are nearly physically indistinguishable from humans, and successful bionic organ transplants.

“The big bosses of the city are keeping it that way on purpose. It’s to maintain tourism, though there is some pride in maintaining the past while navigating towards the future.”

Fiordispina stops in front of room M6 and opens the door. It’s a small meeting room, meant for groups of four or less. Zayne notes the stack of coolers in the corner of the room and the small box of what looks like phlebotomy tools on the table. There’s even some empty blood bags.

“I’m preparing some more infusions for Miss Matchmaker,” Fiordispina answers the question that’s floating around the room. “I’ll be leaving the country to conduct some personal research. I doubt I’ll be able to come back for at least two months.”

“These are blood donation tools.”

Fiordispina approaches Zayne. “My main sequela is an open secret, but you wouldn’t know what it is, since no one’s ever told you.”

“You’ve never said this outright, but I know you’ve been confused as to where the scars on your forearm have gone.”

That’s right— ever since Zayne woke up in this strange world, he didn’t have his scars. There was no proof of his struggles controlling his Evol. They weren’t pretty, but losing them gave him this feeling he could only describe as emptiness.

“I’ll show you why. Give me your arm.”

Zayne offers his left arm to Fiordispina, who pulls out a small pocket knife from her skirt pocket. Alarms start blaring inside his head. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a demonstration.”

She slices down Zayne’s arm before cutting her own. The blade falls onto the table as Fiordispina grabs Zayne’s arm and pours her blood onto his wound. In a matter of seconds, the wound completely closes.

“My blood has healing properties. It’s so potent that some people call it the essence of life.” She wipes away all of the blood using her handkerchief. “I’ve saved people from wounds worse than fatal ones with this blood of mine.”

Those infusions aren’t comprised of some miracle compounds— but Fiordispina’s blood.

“I’m sure you can piece the puzzle together.”

Your condition was worse than what you made it to be.

“I won’t delve into her secrets, but I’ll tell you a few things.”

Zayne clenches his fist.

“Don’t rely on her promises. While she tries her best to keep them, she will break them if she decides the situation calls for it. If you need something from her, make a deal with her. Those hold more weight.”

“A deal?” Like the one you made with Francetic?

“Deals here aren’t always made with contracts, money, or threats. We Reginians love playing games with each other. When the time comes, ask her to make a deal with you using a game you’re familiar with. If you win the game, she’ll have no choice but to fulfill your request— at least, she’ll have to try harder— since breaking deals results in a penalty.”

“But there’s no guarantee.”

“There isn’t. There will never be guarantees with her, and that’s exactly why you have to hold her back with everything you can. Don’t get swept up by her. The moment you do, you’ll be forced into a whole lot of turmoil.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

‘It’s… probably too late for that.’ Zayne has the feeling that the moment he witnessed you make that reckless deal to rescue Xavier, he already got swept up by your tide.

“One more thing— if you think she’s about to do something reckless or she’s pushing herself, call for Egan.”

“Egan?”

“Her mentor. You’ll meet him in due time, regardless if you want to or not.”

Her statement left a bad taste in his mouth.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

An intense craving for chickpeas simmered in a luscious lamb and tomato-based broth with a healthy serving of garlic and a few drizzles of pomegranate molasses hits you as soon as you step through the entrance of your home. The hunger you’re feeling makes you stagger; your body isn’t used to dealing with the side effect of using your sight sequela.

‘Should I order food from Qavali’s? Or should I just gorge on something in the pantry?’

You really just need to eat something before the acid in your stomach decides to burn a hole through the gastric lining and seep into your peritoneal cavity.

‘What’s in my pantry anyways? Marshmallows? Pretzels? I should have some cookies and some protein bars….’

Your body lurches at the thought of eating any of those things.

‘Maybe some of that sundrop peach jello…urgh, nope.’

With a soft grumble, you lay down on the floor and pull your phone out of your purse. ‘Qavali’s it is. I’ll get the stew and some halva…’

Immersed in the thought of food, you fail to notice Zayne rapidly approaching you.

“Why are you on the floor? Do you not feel well?”

His voice startles you so much that you end up dropping your phone. You tilt your head and look up at the doctor, who’s towering over you— even more than he usually does. The concern laced in his eyebrows lightens up once he realizes you’re conscious and alert.

“I’m so hungry that it feels like the acid in my stomach is going to burn a hole through the lining,” you exasperate. “But the thought of anything except a very specific stew sounds repulsive, so I’m ordering food from a local restaurant that does delivery. Do you want anything? They make the most delightful kofta wraps.”

You pick your phone back up to continue the food ordering process.

“No need. I’ll make dinner with what’s already in the fridge,” he declines. “…would you like help getting up?”

“I’m good. I’ll wait for the delivery here…” you mutter as you add on a baked pear with almonds, honey, and ricotta. ‘Let’s get the milk pudding too.’

 Zayne can’t help but sigh at your antics. “Your clothes are going to get dirty.”

His lips tug downwards when he notices the marks on your forearms. You had removed the bandages just before getting inside to make it less obvious that you got hurt, which worked, at least until the cardiac surgeon’s line of sight happened to shift over to your arms.

Words cling onto his tongue like the meniscus of a glass that’s been slightly overfilled. Before the tension holding his voice breaks, your business phone rings. A short huff slips out as you reach for the device and answer the call, “Amsden Matchmaking Services; how may I assist you today?”

“It’s me, Erica.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hearth. It’s always a pleasure to receive a call from you. How have you been faring? Last time you had mentioned you fell down the stairs.”

Erica Hearth was one of your mentor’s assistants. Before she worked with them, she was the assistant of the matchmaker before Egan: Devon. Incredibly intelligent and patient, she was a valuable asset to Amsden. If it weren’t for her, the business would’ve collapsed during Egan’s era.

Despite this, Egan looked relieved when she retired. Chalking it up to her age, you never bothered asking your mentor the actual reason why he was relieved that she left.

“There’s a few aches here and there, but I’ve mostly recovered,” Erica kindly informs. “It’s all thanks to your referral. I truly appreciate it, dear.”

“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I am always willing help you out, Mrs. Hearth.”

“Such a sweet child. It’s almost impossible to believe that you spent most of your time with Egan.”

You curl into yourself. “…Mentor did have penchant for annoying people. If it weren’t for their beauty and charisma, they would’ve had many more enemies.”

“Yes, yes, that is quite true.”

Before you get the chance to go down memory lane with an old acquaintance, a sharp, churning pain hits you in the abdomen. It causes you to curl into a tighter ball. “Ah, I’m sorry to cut the conversation short, Mrs. Hearth, but is there a reason you called me for? I’m currently in the middle of some business…”

The business being ordering food delivery.

“Oh my, is that so? I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“No, no it’s quite alright,” you reassure her. “I picked up because I had a little bit of time.”

“Then I’ll make it quick. I have an old friend who’s been asking around to see if someone would be willing to temporarily hire her twin grandchildren. I know you’ve always preferred working alone, but I was wondering if you’d be open to taking a couple of assistants until next Lial? They were looking to earn some extra funds for their research trip to Ruearla.”

Normally, you’d immediately refuse the request, but this time it’s from Erica. You’re hesitant to outright reject her.

“Since it’s a request from you, I can consider it. If they’re interested, have them contact me through the Amsden website or my business phone. We can arrange a meeting when I’m free.”

Your job has always been self-paced. At the moment, you’re the only employee, and you intend on keeping it that way for a long time. But your hands are fuller than usual, with Zayne and the others, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have some temporary assistants. When Erica worked for Devon and Egan, she acted as a receptionist, document manager, and bookkeeper. Essentially, she was the secretary and accountant. If you handed the twins similar roles, it shouldn’t cause you too much trouble.

‘Depending on their skills, I can make roles for them.’

“I’ll let them know. Thank you for considering to my selfish request, dear.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” You subconsciously tug your lips into a stiff smile. No one can see it, not with how you’re rolled up like a little pill bug. That being said, the slight discomfort that you don’t manage to conceal in your voice is noticed by the doctor who continues to stare down at you.

“I’ll let you go now, sweetie. Make sure to get enough rest— I’m sure you’re overworking yourself like always.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Mrs. Hearth. Have a wonderful evening.”

“You as well.”

You drop your business phone and immediately return to your personal device to finish the delivery order process. After you’ve completed the task, you unravel yourself, causing your head to bump into something. Inadvertently, the distance between you and Zayne had shortened.

“Who was that?” He inquires. As usual, his voice remains steady, leaving nothing for you to infer on except for his words.

“My mentor’s retired assistant. We’re on relatively friendly terms, but our relationship has always been ‘work friends,’ so it can be a little awkward at times, especially now that we don’t work together anymore.” You don’t deny the slight tension that was present during the call.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just had some bad stomach pains,” you hum as you start to scroll on your phone. Normally, if you wanted to distract yourself, you’d play a game or read a book, but you didn’t want to use your brain at the moment. “They’ll go away once I eat something.”

“Should I cut up some plums for you?”

“Plums?”

You don’t remember buying any plums in your latest grocery haul.

“Miss Miller dropped some off when she came to pick up her cats.”

You nod your head. That makes sense; Agatha always brings something to you whenever she returns from a trip. Usually, it’s tea or some sort of treat, but fruits weren’t uncommon. At least, it’s not uncommon enough for you to suspect anything.

You contemplate the stone fruit. The thought of it doesn’t disgust you, and frankly, you might just evaporate if you have to endure any more of this horrid empty-stomach pain.

“…Sure.” You accept his request. “I’ll take some.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Xavier eventually hobbles down the stairs to find you on the floor, though this time, you’re leaning against the wall with a bowl of quartered plums in your lap. It’s a silly image, but there’s also this sense of seclusion or solitude, especially since you don’t realize he’s there.

It reminds him of someone.

He shuffles away before you get the chance to notice him. He walks over to the kitchen and grabs one of the apples from the fruit basket. A rinse and a few wipes later, he’s munching into the blush-pink apple in his hand. The fruit is on the smaller side, so he takes about a quarter of the apple with each bite. The crunch, alongside the tartness and sweetness, make for a delicious before-dinner snack.

Zayne barely acknowledges Xavier, too focused on making dinner, though he does move to the side to let the hunter access the compost bin. Xavier peeks over at the chopping board, noting the cabbage and ham. There’s also some eggplant and pork chops sitting on plates beside the board.

It looks like tonight will also be a healthy meal.

Instead of going back upstairs, Xavier decides to go downstairs to the basement. It’s as silent as a dead mouse. He turns on the light and begins to explore the area. There’s three bedrooms, a bathroom, a large storage room that could be furnished into gym or library, and a walk-in closet by the bathroom. Xavier walks right into the large storage room, which has shelves upon shelves of books in cardboard boxes.

Originally, he didn’t plan on doing this without your permission, and he didn’t exactly have the motivation to dig through your books, but now things are slightly different. He has a bit more curiosity, and it’s just enough to motivate him to at least browse through your collection. He just wants to see if he can find anything useful.

He is quick to realize that many of these books are not yours, in the sense that you didn’t purchase them for yourself. The boxes have words scribbled across the front in permanent marker:

Egan’s fantasy books

Egan’s classical literature

Egan’s miscellaneous 1

Egan’s miscellaneous 2

Egan’s miscellaneous 3

Devon’s research 1

Devon’s research 2

Devon’s textbooks

Devon’s sheet music

Grandma’s photo albums

Grandma’s recipes

Grandma’s research 1

Grandma’s research 2

Grandma & Grandpa’s research

Grandpa’s infectious disease textbooks + notes

Grandpa’s research

Grandpa’s history books

Grandpa’s recipes

Father’s sketches

Mother’s poetry + calligraphy books

Research (Dr. Thorley, Dr. Jade, Dr. Grimmes)

Research (Dr. Vaughn, Dr. Chex, Dr. Knoch)

Textbooks + Notes (Medical Lab)

Textbooks + Notes (Biology, Chemistry, Psychology)

Textbooks + Notes (Ethics, Anthropology, Law)

Lab Reports

Articles

Books (Nonfiction)

Books (Fantasy, Sci-Fi)

Books (Mythology, Religious texts)

Books (Romance, Mystery)

Gawain’s manuals

Viere’s manuals

Lucia’s receipts + gambling things

Miscellaneous 1

Miscellaneous 2

Unsorted photos

To be burned

What catches his eye is, of course, the box that says, “To be burned.” He doesn’t reach for it. Instead, he pulls out one of the other boxes; specifically, the one that contained your mythology books. There’s a large variety of books, and many of them are written in different languages. He goes through them and picks out one of the compilations before returning the box to its respective spot on the shelf.

Xavier flips to the first page of the book, which contains a brief author’s note:

Human depictions of gods will always reflect human fears, desires, and values, regardless of if these divine beings truly exist. We will always interpret them in a manner that benefits us— never them.

• Helvetia Garamond

He closes the book and tucks in the front pocket of the hoodie he changed into after his little adventure. He’ll save this for later.

When he returns upstairs, you’re at the dining table, stuffing your cheeks full of what looks like chickpea and lamb stew. You’re almost flabbergasted when he shows up, and you hastily drop your phone to cover your mouth. Hunger had overtaken you much that your manners had taken the backseat. You chew as fast as you can before swallowing what’s in your mouth.

A fraction of a smile appears on Xavier’s face. “Enjoying yourself?”

“I was craving it. Would you like some?”

Despite your intense craving for the stew, you had portioned out a bowl of the stew to stop yourself from overeating. Your body still isn’t used to eating big portions of food at once.

“What is it?” He asks as he walks over to take a closer look at what you’re eating.

“A stew made with tomatoes, lamb, and chickpeas with some pomegranate molasses and garlic.”

“Pomegranate molasses?”

“It adds a bit of sweetness and tartness to the stew; here, try it.”

You pull out the plastic spoon from the paper bag and hand it to Xavier while pushing the container of stew closer to him. He takes a spoonful and puts it in his mouth. The lamb melts on his tongue while chickpeas are nice and soft. The acidity from the tomatoes, the tartness from the pomegranate molasses, and the garlic cut through the richness and gaminess of the lamb. He doesn’t stop himself from taking a second bite.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

By the time Zayne’s done making dinner, the stew is gone, and your stomach is full. Still, you nab a couple pieces of the eggplant stir fried in garlic sauce and some of the cabbage and ham; the aroma was too irresistible for you not to.

‘These eggplants have a nice texture.’ Eggplants have always been hit and miss with you, mostly due to their texture. They can almost get this slimy texture, which is a horrible mouth feel. Luckily, the eggplant Zayne made is soft, almost like a dense pillow.

Your shoulders subconsciously bounce as you nibbled at your food. It’s a subtle movement, one that people wouldn’t catch unless they’re watching you. Something in the back of Zayne’s mind sings when he catches your little happy dance.

He returns his attention back to his own plate of food just before you look up from your own.

“Do you two have any plans tomorrow?” You ask in an attempt to break the silence at the table.

“Not really,” Xavier replies. “I might spend some time reading.”

“Me either; is there something you needed from us?” Zayne reaches over for his glass of water.

You shake your head. “No, no, not at all. I was just planning to take the car so I could do some work at my office.”

You’ve spent far too much time away from work, so you needed to start getting back into it. Most of your clients reschedule their appointments for the week after the Harvest Festival, which meant you had a lot of things to prepare beforehand— mostly boring paperwork. It wouldn’t be impossible for you to do it at home, but the temptation to do something else would definitely win.

“Will you be okay driving on your own?”

“I hiked up a giant hill today; I’ll be fine driving a little bit.”

‘I can also pick up some pastries from Zephyr’s for Serendipity.’

The bakery is just a block away from your office, so you could kill two birds with one stone by picking up some pastries from there after you finished work. Serendipity, being the passionate lady she is, always works through the holidays, so you know she’ll be at the agency.

“Let someone know if you get too tired to drive,” is all Zayne says before he continues eating. He knows that you’re just trying to be more independent, and your health has improved quite a bit, so he doesn’t have a reason to stop you.

“I have an apartment above the office. I can stay there if I don’t feel well. I’ll let you know if I decide to do that.”

“Alright.”

‘I thought that would reassure him, but why do I feel like that didn’t work at all?’

There’s this sense of dissatisfaction rolling off Zayne, though you aren’t sure if it’s actually dissatisfaction or just his usual stoicism. You decide not to delve into it— since that would intrude onto his boundaries.

You shove the last piece of eggplant into your mouth before shoving practically shoving a paper bag to the center of the table. “There’s some desserts here. Have them if you’d like.”

“I’ll wash the dishes.” Xavier stops you from taking your dishes to the sink. “You can go do whatever you need to do.”

“…Thanks.” You pile your dishes up neatly before excusing yourself from the table.

“You’ve changed,” Zayne states as soon as the door to your bedroom clicks shut.

Xavier scoffs, “So have you.”

‘There’s that familiar coldness.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A man gazes upon the chained creature with wicked admiration. “Splendid, absolutely splendid. To think I’d be able to find this wandering around in Regina… surely my customers will be delighted with such a commodity.”

Another pearl sinks to the bottom of the tank.

Chapter Text

A barrage of texts appears on your phones as soon as you get back to your office after your little dessert errand for Serendipity. You’re a bit stunned— no one had contacted you when you checked your phones before your little break.

‘I’ll just answer them in order…’

—

[Walter: How are you doing?]

[You: I’m doing well. My arms are also fine; you can hardly see the marks.]

—

[🩸: Where are you? I’d like to meet up with you sometime today, if possible.]

[You: I’m at my office organizing some paperwork. You can stop by, or we could have dinner together somewhere. Whichever is more convenient for you.]

—

[Jibril: Good morning. I know we arranged a meeting for the 8^th, but I was hoping you could give me a call beforehand. Thank you.]

[You: Of course. When are you available?]

—

[915-8264-1637: Hello. I am Andrew Faulkner. Erica Hearth provided me with your contact information. I wanted to let you know that my sister, Lindsay, and I have emailed you our resumes to the [email protected]. I look forward to hearing from you.]

[You: Thank you for letting me know. I will review them within the next day or two.]

—

[Chester: I just received some gorgeous cherries. Let me know if you’d like some so I can save a basket for you.]

[You: I would love some! I’m not sure when I’ll be in Junes though.]

—

[Agatha: I dropped off a little gift for you yesterday. Have you tried them?]

[You: They were great! How was your trip? How about your babies? Are they happy to be home?]

—

[Miriam: I can’t believe you just left me a present without telling me! I love it, but you really didn’t have to. Just being able to spend some time with you was more than enough.]

[You: I know, but I wanted to get the necklace for you.]

—

[🍊: Have you made your decision regarding the tickets?]

[You: I’ll attend the auction. Is there something you need me to do?]

‘What should I do with the second ticket?’ The obvious answer would be to bring Agatha, since she wanted to go to Ryan Geier’s event, but if something bad happened, you weren’t confident that you’d be able to protect her. The Sapphira Auction Hall was open to the public, but it was still run by an underworld organization. It would be too risky to bring a civilian, especially since you had no idea what Cielo intended to do at the auction in the first place.

You could borrow one of Cielo’s subordinates or hire a freelancer to act as your bodyguard.

‘Nehemeis should still be in Lucciola, so he’s out. Should I try asking Annelise?’

[🍊: Just go and enjoy yourself.]

[🍊: Perhaps you’re worried about your own safety?]

[🍊: I can lend you Maisie or Koven.]

Maisie would be a good choice. Personally trained by Dario, the right-hand man of Alessio (Cielo’s father), she’s steadfast, vigilant, and a master at predicting people’s movements. She has so much control over her own body that she’s able to voluntarily control her own heart rate, and you’ve seen her break fiberglass with her bare hands before.  

Koven wouldn’t be bad either. Unlike Maisie, who exudes strength, Koven has a very unassuming, almost frail appearance. You’d never guess she’d purposefully infect herself and jump into the Wishing Well, an Aberrant infested catacomb. She overcame the infection and single-handedly killed all the Aberrants in a matter of days.

Both of them are powerful in their own right, so it’s really a matter of personality and personal preference.

‘Maisie’s personality is more fitting for a bodyguard, but she might stop me if she notices me doing something underhanded against Ryan.’

Ryan is considered to be an associate, just like you are, so he’s given the benefit of the doubt. Which means Maisie, who tends to be a stickler with rules, won’t overlook any shady behavior, even if it’s from a fellow associate. It’s unfortunate, really, because you can’t guarantee that you won’t try to do anything. Koven on the other hand, won’t interfere, but she can be hard to manage once adrenaline starts pumping through her system. She can also get nosy if her curiosity is piqued.

‘If I can find a way to persuade Koven to lay low…’

There was no way you could convince Maisie to disregard your ‘clandestine’ behavior, so your only real option is Koven, unless you wanted to hire someone for the night.

You could ask Xavier to come with you, since you know he’s more than capable of fighting off a few mobsters, but you don’t really want to. He’s still a civilian, regardless of his combat prowess, and more importantly, he’s one of your guests. You aren’t going to put him in danger— at least not intentionally.

[You: Will this count as a favor?]

[🍊: I’m the one who offered.]

[🍊: It would be crude of me to count this as the favor I owe you.]

[You: I’d like to bring Koven then.]

[🍊: An astute decision.]

[🍊: Maisie’s been more prickly lately. She lectured me the other day about treating people with more kindness.]

[🍊: How did such a person become a member of the underworld? This world is full of mysteries.]

‘You talk like you weren’t the one responsible.’

You roll your eyes at Cielo’s feigned ignorance.

[🍊: I’ve informed Koven about the arrangement. She should contact you soon to iron things out.]

[You: I appreciate it.]

[🍊: It’s my pleasure.]

When you’re done with your conversation with Cielo, a message from Fiordispina pops up.

[🩸: I’m in the area, so I’ll just stop by your office. I should arrive within the next ten minutes.]

[You: Just let yourself in when you arrive. The passcode is 1314512.]

[🩸: You really ought to be better with your passcodes.]

[You: My office one changes every day so it’s fine.]

[🩸: I suppose that’s reassuring. Just a heads up, I have Bethany and Figaro with me.]

Bethany is one of Benedict’s companion pigeons, though she’s quite attached to Fiordispina, so she’s really Fiordispina’s pet at this point. Appearance wise, she’s just your average common pigeon, but she has a great affinity for figs, especially Parfait figs: one of the most expensive fruits on the market. They’re absolutely delightful, especially when lightly poached and served with a healthy helping of clotted cream and crushed almonds. Can’t blame the girl for having expensive taste.

Figaro is another one of Benedict’s pigeons who likes to visit you. He loves green beans in any form, so you always have a packet of freeze dried green beans in your office for him. You aren’t sure why he’s attached to you, but he’s quite cute, and he’s helped you on a few occasions, so you don’t mind it. Your cats go absolutely bonkers and latch onto you like there’s no tomorrow when they smell him on you though.

[Chester: I can drop them off at your office if you’d like. I recently hired someone and he’s really good at managing the kitchen on his own, so I can leave the diner for a little bit.]

[You: Really? I’m glad you got some help! And he must be pretty good if you’re willing to leave the kitchen.]

[Chester: Yeah. He caught on really quick. I will say I am a bit worried though.]

[Chester: He seems to get random bouts of pain. I’ve tried to get him to go to the hospital or something, but he always brushes it off, saying that doctors wouldn’t be able to help.]

[You: Hmm… that is pretty concerning. But if he’s not willing to get it checked out, then there isn’t much you can do.]

[Chester: Yeah… but I still can’t help but feel bad.]

[You. That’s understandable. I hope he comes around and gets the help he needs.]

[You: And you’re more than welcome to drop the cherries off at my office. I’ll be in on the 8^th for sure.]

[Chester: Great! I’ll aim to drop them off at two/threeish on the eighth. Does that sound good?]

[You: 👍🏻👍🏻]

[Chester: 😆]

You set your phones down on the desk and shift your attention to the small pile of papers you still have to go through.

‘Just a bit more, and I’ll be done.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The only sign of Fiordispina’s arrival is the sound of wings fluttering towards you. You look up just in time to see Figaro flying at you. He effortlessly lands on your shoulder. You pet his neck a couple of times before offering the freeze dried green bean you prepared beforehand. He happily pecks at the offering.

“How are you feeling?” Fiordispina inquired as she sits down on the chair on the other side of your desk.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” you say. “Did you want anything to drink? I can make you a cup of tea or coffee.”

Fiordispina shakes her head. “No need; I won’t be staying for longi wanted to tell you a few things.”

“Oh, okay.” You blink, not knowing what else to say.

“First things first: I’ll be flying out to Lechitarum on the sixth. It’s for my triennial expedition.”

Once every three years, Fiordispina joins an expedition arranged by a couple of her old friends and colleagues. She’s never really delved into the details of it, so you have no idea what the research is about, but you know these trips can last for a long time.

“How long will you be gone?”

“If everything goes well, I should be able to return in two months.”

“Will we will able to contact you?”

“For the first few days, yes. After that, I’m not sure. We’re going to a pretty remote place this time.”

“Are you going to be bringing anyone?”

By anyone, you mean her lovers.

“Levin and the others are staying in Regina. Instead, Bethany is coming with me. That was the compromise I made with them.”

“I don’t think Benedict will be able to use his sequelae on Bethany though?”

“They told me it was to keep be from getting too lonely while I was away.”

You laugh. “Ahh, I see.”

If anyone was going to get lonely, it would be the five men, not Fior.

“I’ll bring something back for you.”

“I look forward to it— as long as it isn’t a sachet of dried cilantro.”

“One of my other cilantro-hating acquaintances loved that kind of cilantro, so I thought you would be able to eat it. I didn’t expect you to gag at the scent alone.”

You playfully glare at Fiordispina. “That was a whole stink bomb. There’s no way someone would willingly eat that.”

“Benedict and Caesar enjoyed it.” She shrugs.

“Crazy…anyways, what else did you have to tell me?”

“It’s regarding Caleb— your guest with the brown hair and purple eyes. I didn’t get the chance mention this earlier, but his right arm appears to be a prosthetic. If not, it’s been modified. Either way, I’m not well-versed with bionic prosthetics since it wasn’t my focus as a bioengineer, so you might want to contact Adastreia and have Hayden examine it.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

“And if Caleb’s interested, after I come back, I can regenerate his arm.”

“…I think I’ll refrain from telling him that. I don’t want to get throttled by Caesar and Reuben. Got anything else to tell me?”

Fiordispina unzips her purse and pulls out a small journal with an electronic lock. “Diletta gave this to me earlier after I told her I was going to come see you. Apparently, Egan left it in her care and told her to give it to you ‘when she felt like it was right.’”

“What’s with that vague language?” You sigh as you accept the journal. “And what’s the password to this thing?”

“Diletta doesn’t know.”

“Are you kidding me?” You examine the lock. “These locks self detonate if you try forcing it open…”

“Your mentor has always been an enigmatic individual.”

You set the journal down. “They’re just a fraudster. Anyways, I’ll look through their belongings to see if I can find any clues for the passcode.”

Egan loved making puzzles. You wouldn’t be surprised if he proper dozens of puzzles just for this journal. The journal probably won’t even be the end point— it might even be the beginning.

“You’ll be able to find it.” Fiordispina offers her words of encouragement in a gentle voice.

You can’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to have her as your mentor instead.

‘Not that I regret having you as my mentor.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jibril ends up calling you while you’re driving back home. Using the touchscreen on your car, you answer his call. “Good evening, this is the Matchmaker.”

“Hi, it’s Jibril. Sorry for not responding to your text, I got busy with one of my other cases.”

“That’s not a problem at all. What did you want to call me about?”

“I was wondering if you would be able to help me get in touch with the vocalist Solstice Charmichael.”

“I can try to pull some strings, but he usually doesn’t accept private meetings. If you give me a reason, then I might be able to persuade him.”

“There’s rumors that he can manipulate people with his voice. I wanted to know whether or not this was true, and if it is, to what extent can he control others.”

‘Those are… pretty personal questions. I’m not sure Solstice will be willing to answer those.’

“Is there a reason why you need to know?”

“It’s related to the case that I wanted your assistance on.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. You turn off the fan and increase the volume on the call audio. “According to my source, someone’s using his voice to lure people into traps to sell them off.”

‘Wasn’t there an folktale with this sort of plot line?’

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t guarantee anything.”

‘I’ll call Serendipity after this.’

“I understand. Thank you for helping me out, Matchmaker.”

“You’re out here trying to save lives, of course I’m going to help you to the best of my abilities.”

“Thank you again. Then, have a good night.”

“You as well.”

The call ends and you immediately activate your voice assistant. “Call Serendipity.”

“Calling Serendipity.”

You turn on the fan and press on the brakes, stopping in front of the red light. As soon as the signal goes green, your call is picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Serendipity. Is your oldest brother home?”

“He just got back. Would you like me to hand over the phone?”

“If you could.”

“Give me just a minute.”

You listen to her shuffling about as you continue to drive down the road. You’re almost home.

“Brother, Miss Matchmaker is looking for you.” You hear Serendipity mumbling.

“Oh? That’s unusual.” A melodic voice joins the conversation. “Hi, it’s Solstice.”

“Good evening. Sorry for disturbing you; you must’ve had a long day at work.”

“Oh not at all. I just found it unusual that you’d request me instead of Seraph. How can I help you?”

“Do you happen to know who Jibril is?”

“The private investigator? I’ve heard of him from Seren.”

“Yes, that’s the person. He’s actually a client of mine, and he was wondering if you would be willing to meet up with him.”

“Is… there a specific reason for this request?”

“Apparently, someone’s been using your voice to lure people and traffick them. He wants to know if your voice has such power.”

“Well then.”

It’s true that Solstice can manipulate people with his voice— but e rarely uses the ability. Most of the time, he uses it to soothe people during anxiety attacks or something similar. It’s against his policy to use it to hurt others. Putting his personal code aside, there’s only a handful of people who are aware he’s a superator (someone who gained abilities after an aptet infection).

Not to mention, trafficking is a big no-no in the Reginian underworld.

“I’ll talk to him, but if possible, I’d like to have you there.”

“Of course. If you agreed, I planned on having you join the appointment I had with him. Are you free on the 8^th at 6:30 PM?”

“I’ll make some arrangements.”

“Alright. Thank you very much. I know you don’t like having these private meetings with strangers.”

“It can’t be helped. My reputation is on the line, and I don’t want to cause trouble for Seraph.”

You turn into your street. “Will the Commander lecture his older brother?”

“The Commander has in fact lectured his older brother before,” Serendipity chirps in the background.

“Seren…”

The younger sister chuckles. “I’m just telling the truth~.”

After some sibling banter, Solstice ends the call, and you get out of your car to head inside your house.

Xavier is laying on the couch, reading a book. Assuming he’s completely immersed in the said book, you try to tiptoe your way back to your room, only to have him call out to you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you return the greeting.

He looks at you with a steady gaze. “Did you have dinner?”

“I didn’t.”

He pushes himself up and sets his book down on the couch. “I’ll heat up the portion of food Zayne left out for you then.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks. I’ll come back out after I change.”

You wash your face and change into some loungewear before returning to the dining room. You expected Xavier to return to the couch after he was done reheating your dinner, but no, he’s sitting at the table in a seat adjacent to where he left your meal. As you examine what’s for dinner, you slide into the seat.

There’s a full bowl of rice served with stewed tomato and eggs, some seaweed soup, sautéed spinach, and some shredded chicken seasoned with sesame oil, diced chili, ginger, and scallions. Luckily, there’s no cilantro in sight (or scent).

Once you’ve taken a couple bites, Xavier starts some small talk with you. “Will you be going to the office tomorrow?”

“Not unless there’s something urgent I have to take care of; why?”

“No reason. Do you have any other plans this week?”

“I have some business with a client on the 8^th, then I have an event to attend on the 9^th, but I don’t have anything else planned aside from that.”

‘Is he trying to figure when when I’ll be out of the house?’

“Okay.” He opens his book back up. 

‘???’

“Is there…something you wanted to do?”

“Not really. I just thought you’d want to go out and have fun since it’s a holiday.”

“Ahh, well… I’ve lived here my whole life so I’ve experienced the festivals more than enough times. That being said, if you wanted to participate in the festivities, we can definitely do that. We could go to Risti and enjoy the street plays or visit the art galleries. Risti’s Felicity Boulevard is packed with stalls where you can play games to win prizes. Oh, maybe that’s a good idea. I can add to my plushie collection.”

“Your plushie collection?”

“Yep. Most of them stay with my bedroom, but I have a few scattered about the house.”

Last time you counted, you had over a hundred plushies. Most of them have been gifts.

“I have a three hundred centimeter Lussier plushie in the second bedroom of the basement. He’s really comfortable to nap on.”

Said plushie was won from one of the fair stalls in Risti.

Your eyes are practically sparkling with excitement as you think about adding more squishes to your collection. An inaudible huff of amusement escapes Xavier. “We should go get more plushies for you then.”

“We don’t have to go out just because of that.”

“It’ll be a good excuse to move around a bit more. I heard that exercising your body is a good way to regain your strength.”

Your complexion has improved significantly, and you’re able to do things on your own now, but there’s still room for improvement.

“I guess that’s true. This is probably a good chance to familiarize yourselves with another part of the city… we can ask Zayne for his opinion too.” You take another bite of spinach and chicken.

“Mhm. Sounds good.”

‘A meeting and an event. Huh. I wonder what those are about.’ Xavier thinks as he flips the page.

Chapter Text

Brown bread ice cream topped with candied walnuts and warm apple compote— that’s one of the staples of Regina’s Harvest Festival. The ice cream itself has a nutty, earthy taste with molasses/caramel undertones and a buttery crunch. The toppings offer additional texture and sweetness, making it a comforting dessert that you can enjoy while meandering down the lively streets of the city.

“Here; have the rest of mine.” After a couple bites, you hand your serving over to Xavier who’s already finished his portion. He silently accepts the offer and begins devouring bonus sweet treat with a straight face. As delicious as it is, it just doesn’t taste as good as the one that lingers in your memories— so you can’t appreciate the flavors as you should. Plus, you’ve been nibbling on street food for the past hour, so you’re feeling pretty full.

“Did you want to get some more food?” You ask the two men who agreed to accompany you today.

The doctor, who’s finishing up his caramel apple cream puff, gently shakes his head. “We should participate in the other activities the festival has to offer.”

“You wanted to collect more plushies right? Let’s go do that,” Xavier chips in after another bite of the ice cream.

With that, you head over to Felicity Boulevard. It’s crowded, even more so than the streets with all the food stalls, so you have to put in more effort to keep the team together. Luckily, it isn’t too difficult, since Xavier and Zayne are pretty tall and thus, relatively easy to spot within the sea of people.

The pair watch you win prize after prize at the stalls. You’re winning plushies, figurines, trinkets… You even manage to secure a microscope and an electric hot pot (which are going to be delivered to your residence). Soon enough, they had no choice but to help you carry your spoils of war.

You stop in front of a stall where the prizes have strings attached to them. It’s one of those games where you have to pull the thread to win the prize— meaning you’d have to guess which line is attached to the item you want. You examine the prizes with more intensity than you did at the previous stalls.

‘That…’ Your attention falls on the grand prize.

“Cutie, are you interested in playing?” The handsome vendor asks with a flirty tone as he leans over the counter. He’s completely unfazed by the two men behind you. “If you pay for 3 tries, I’ll give two extra tries on the house.”

It’s probably an offer he’s given to everyone that’s interested in his stall. You pull out your wallet and hand him enough cash for three attempts. “Then, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Thank you for your business!” He grins brightly.

You step closer to the bundle of strings, which have been threaded through a clear pipe. The strings are all the same color— a brilliant orange— so you can’t use that as a hint. Gently tugging a random string doesn’t do much for you either. That doesn’t mean it’s entirely useless though.

‘Doesn’t look like it’s rigged.’

By fiddling with the strings, you’re distracting the crowd from what you’re actually trying to do. You activate your sequela and use it to check which strings are attached to the big prizes. The prizes don’t have bonds with the strings or anything— you’re looking for the bonds the strings have with the vendor. Your sight allows you to see which prizes he values more than the others.  

You usually like to play games fair and square, but there’s something at this stall that you need to win: the little fairy in the glass cage. You randomly pull two strings, which pull down a small star keychain and a ‘miss!’ The next thing you pull is a cute little irrlicht plushie from one of your game franchises. Your fourth pull is another miss.

“You’re pretty good at this game, Missy,” the vendor comments.

You flash a smile at him. “I do this sort of thing for my job.”

You tug your final string, which pulls the fairy in the bottle forward. The bells around the stall start going off, causing the vendor to jump. He hastily regains his composure and exclaims, “Congrats! You won the grand prize: Layla of Lutnus crafted by C. Shelter!”

The vendor places all your prizes in a paper bag. “You said that you do this for your job, but you must be quite the clover too. I thought I made the game harder this year, but you won my grand prize so easily.”

“I was aiming for the grand prize with each pull, so I’d say it was a little tricky,” you lie without batting an eye. You hand the vendor a piece of caramel candy from your purse as you take the paper bag. “Thanks for the freebies, owner.”

“Feel free to come by again!”

“I didn’t think you were into these figurines,” Xavier states as you guys walk away from the stall.

“You’re right. They aren’t my thing,” you reply.

“Then why did you try to win it?”

“I’ll tell you after we go somewhere with less people.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Ten minutes later, you’re at a small park, one of the most secluded ones. It has a quaint pond and some wildflowers, but that’s all. You all settle down at one of the picnic tables by the pond. Zayne takes a seat beside you while Xavier sits across from you. They watch as you carefully retrieve your latest prize from the paper bag. The figurine in the glass bottle has an ethereal silhouette— she’s sitting on vibrant red maple leaf with her knees up against her chest. Her elbows are on either side of the knees, and she’s resting her cheek on her right wrist. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are clasped together, as if she’s in the middle of a prayer. Her maroon hair contrasts with her light cerulean dress, like an autumn tree obscuring the clear sky.

“It is a well-crafted piece,” Zayne compliments the craftsmanship without much thought.

“I can see why it was the grand prize,” Xavier adds. “But if you aren’t interested in these things, why did try to win it?” He repeats the question he asked earlier.

“C. Shelter is renowned for her lifelike figurines and dolls. It’s easy to mistake her works for the real thing,” you begin to elaborate, “The reason why she honed her craft to produce such realistic pieces was to deceive those involved in the smuggling of Aberrants and aptets.”

You pull off the cork that sealed the bottle. “Smuggling of living creatures is frowned upon, but it’s not 'illegal’ in the underworld, so it isn’t heavily monitored like trafficking is.”

The humanoid aptet slowly opens its eyes and gazes upon your form. Unlike many aptets, this species has intelligence. To what extent, you’re unsure, but you know it’s best to stay on their good side. You pull out another caramel candy from your purse and unwrap it before setting it on the table in front of the fairy. The aptet cautiously flies out of the jar and settles itself next to the sweet treat. Soon enough, it’s indulging in the sugary offering.

“Layla isn’t the name of the figure in the jar, but the common name for a species of aptet that reside in maritime forests of Onxi, specifically in Laurentis. Influenced by the local culture and folktales, the aptet of that region took on the appearance and abilities of adriennes, a type of sea fairy. They’re mostly valued for their beauty, but laylas can also purify sea water and alter tides. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by my mentor.”

You grab a different treat from your purse: a salt and lemon candy. Like most fairies, laylas love sweets, but since they live by the ocean, they also consume salt. “Here, have some of this. You should regain your energy.”

The layla shuffles away from the caramel and latches onto the hard candy.

“I’m assuming the vendor wasn’t aware that his grand prize was alive,” Zayne says as he continues to observe the creature on the table.

“No, he’s a civilian. It’s likely that something got mixed up during the shipment process. Most smugglers and their clients wouldn’t be so stupid to put their products on display like that.”

Vice might not do anything about the smuggling, but knowingly displaying smuggled products to the public would violate their other rules.

“You freed it, but will it be able to survive on its own?” Zayne inquires.

“Taking it back to Laurentis would be the best bet, but it’ll take some time for me to arrange that. For now, the only thing I can do is hope it’ll be willing to stay with me for the time being.”

You’re not sure whether or not this layla would want to stay near humans after getting trapped in a bottle.

Xavier rejoins the conversation with a question of his own. “How did it get in the bottle in the first place? From the sounds of it, it should be able to fend for itself.”

Controlling tides is not something to sneeze at.

“Every supernatural creature has a weakness of some sort. Smugglers use that knowledge to modify their tactics when hunting the aptets down. Laylas are said to be weak to electricity. Also, the spores of the Midday Flame mushroom can put them to sleep, which is this red dust you see on the leaf.”

Because the leaf is bright red, it’s hard to see the light coating of red dust on top of it. Had it not been for your sequela, you would’ve never noticed anything strange about the fairy in the bottle. It truly resembled one of C. Shelter’s works.

“You look concerned.” Zayne notes the frown on your face.

“I wonder where this fairy was originally supposed to go.”

If someone lost such an important product, they should be scrambling to find it. If not, then they must’ve found a suitable replacement.  That would mean another innocent creature got involved in this mess.

‘A sea fairy.’ Who would be selling a product like this? Like you said before, smuggling living creatures is frowned upon in Regina, the city who values freedom within boundaries, so there’s only a few tiny circles that would be willing to do it.

‘Chloe Ratliff, Madison Delores, Gregory Corcoran, Ryan Geier.’ Those were Egan’s usual suspects when it came to the requests with exposing smuggling rings.

Chloe Ratliff doesn’t smuggle living creatures, so she’s irrelevant.

Madison Delores has been laying low these past few years, since she got penalized for her last stunt. The rules regarding smuggling and trafficking were fuzzier back then, so she got away with a slap on the wrist. With the stricter rules, courtesy to the current Vice Commander (Seraph), she has to be extra careful with her movements, lest she wants to get mauled.

Gregory Corcoran... has been a target of Rubioflores, so he doesn’t have the time to be doing business. At least, that was the case last time you checked on him.

Ryan Geier is the only one who’s really active nowadays, and his upcoming auction is based around oceanic treasures. How likely would it be that this layla was going to be a product for his auction? What if it was the first secret item? It would make more sense than the Pocket Watch of Guilfoyle, though it would be quite convenient.

It could’ve been the second special product. Antares said it was a sudden addition, but that could’ve been a marketing tactic. Beyond being a collector, Ryan loves money. He’ll do almost anything for it. The only thing that’s truly holds him back is Vice. Compared to your leash, his is much, much shorter, meaning his relationship with the underworld wardens is rocky at best.

It won’t be long until he’s lodged in the jaw of the beast.

‘Well, I’m going to his auction, so I’ll find the answers sooner or later.’

He might not even be involved. Those four were the big shots, meaning there are plenty of others that could be responsible.

Something taps your knuckle, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look down to see the layla looking at you expectantly. It managed to finish both the caramel and salt-lemon candy in a matter of minutes. You chuckle, “Would you like another candy?”

Instead of only grabbing a single piece of candy, you grab a small handful and drop them on the table.

“Here; I’ll give you all of these. There are caramels, salt-lemon candies, honey drops, mints, and a few sour taffies.” You scooch the sweets closer to the aptet. “In exchange, will you listen to my request?”

The layla tilts its head slightly to the side.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to stay by my side so I can take you back home. It’s just that I’m super busy right now, so I can’t do it right away.” You place your hand in front of the layla. “Let’s make a deal.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, a shiver runs down Zayne and Xavier’s spine.

Something howls in the wind. “Are you sure? Will you be able to endure the price if you break the deal?”

Laylas don’t speak in human tongue, but they can mimic it using nearby water sources. This too, is something they’ve gained from their folktale counterparts, though this trait isn’t universal amongst individuals of the species.

“Not at all,” you admit. “So I’m going to try my best to make sure I don’t have to pay that price.”

Being honest is best, you just can’t be too honest with the fae. It’s a delicate balance that you’ve played with many times over the years, especially when you were an apprentice. Many of Egan’s clients back then weren’t exactly human.

The water hums against your eardrum. You can feel it bouncing around, threatening to piece through the membrane and enter your skull, where it can devour the thing that makes you human.

You wonder what would happen if you let the water take over. What if you let it seep into your brain and drown your neurons? Would the layla be able to control the tides of your mind? Would the water be able to quell the storm that constantly tries to break through the surface of your thoughts, or would it give the storm that final push to bring everything to ruin?

‘But I won’t let it threaten me like this.’

Something in the air changes around you. Unlike earlier, there isn’t a distraction for your audience.

The water in your ear stills as your eyes reveal a vision that’s unique to you. “In this deal, neither of us are beneath the other.”

You focus on the layla’s water bond. If you sever this, it won’t be able to manipulate water for a long time, if ever.

By pressing the bond between your fingers, you provide your own little warning.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” you reiterate, this time without the flattering tone. “It’s up to you to decide whether or not you’re willing to follow me. I have no interest in your power, and while your beauty is something humans could only hope to achieve, I know that freedom is what makes you so alluring.”

Pressure reappears against your eardrums.“Water is nature’s mirror. Your reflection is interesting; the storm is the one who desires Tresashta’s hand rather than the evanescent.”

You feel the liquid slipping out of your ear and around your neck.

“I’ll agree to your deal, ephemeral one. Let’s see if you can truly handle being ‘equal’ to me.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The layla returned to the bottle to sleep after having its full of candies. You halfheartedly wonder if this particular layla allowed itself to be trapped, but you don’t dwell on that thought. The most important thing about this whole ordeal was that you succeeded in persuading it to stay with you for a little while, though you had no idea what it was blabbering about at the end of your conversation.

But ever since you persuaded the layla, Xavier and Zayne have been spending a lot of time staring at your neck.

“…Is there something you want to say?” Unable to endure the scrutiny of their gaze, you finally break the silence that’s enveloped the group with a question.

Zayne clears his throat. “That mark, is it going to keep glowing like that?”

“Ahh…I’m not sure. This is my first dealing with a layla. The other marks I had weren’t visible to anyone except those involved in the contract.” You rub the junction between your neck and shoulder.  

Contract marks shouldn’t be visible to others, so it’s strange that Xavier and Zayne can see it.

‘Guess I’ll have to make sure to cover my neck until I can get the layla back home.’

It’s not clear if the guys could see it because they were different (as in from a different world) or because layla contract marks are different, but you’re not about to go up to some random stranger to ask them if they can see this mysterious tattoo around your neck. You’re also not going to walk around town with a glowing neck or tell anyone you know that you made a contract with a fairy aptet.

Things like these are best kept under wraps.

“Couldn’t you have asked someone to take that fairy back to Laurentis or whatever for you? Surely, you don’t have to personally take them there.” Xavier doesn’t understand why you’d go so far for something that you just happened to come across while you were out enjoying the festival.

“I don’t know anyone who’s going to Laurentis anytime soon, meaning I’d have to ask someone I know and inconvenience them, hire a stranger, or ship the bottle and hope it gets to the right place. None of those options sound appealing to me, and I’m not actually that busy. I just need to catch up on some work, which should only take another week or two. Laylas live for a long time— a couple of weeks will be over in a blink of an eye, especially if it decides to stay asleep in the bottle.”

While some of the Midday Flame spores remain in the bottle, most of it was released into the air when the layla flew out of it. What’s inside probably isn’t enough to put it into a deep sleep, which means it can freely fall in and out of consciousness. You didn’t even bother putting the cork back on, instead opting to cover the bottle opening with one of the candy wrappers and a thin hair tie.

“You really like making more work for yourself.”

You can’t really refute what Xavier just said, but you try anyways. “I just want to make sure it returns to where it wants to be, and the best way is to do it myself.”

Something flickers in your eyes, but the only one who sees it is the black bird perched on a streetlamp when you briefly make eye contact with it.

‘Strange. I’ve never seen a corvid in Risti. They don’t usually like how rowdy it is here.’

“Just don’t push yourself too much. You’ve just recovered,” Zayne offers you a gentle reminder.

“I know; I would hate to become bedridden again.”

There’s little weight to your words, and Zayne wonders if he should even try to trust them.

He silently sighs. ‘I never thought I’d meet someone who’s worse at taking care of themselves than her.’

You purse your lips as you feel your stomach twist. “Ahh, I’m hungry again. Let’s go grab some waffle crisps and some cherry lavender spritzers!”

“Nonalcoholic for you.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Chapter Text

                      🫧

                                                  🫧

    🫧   

                    🫧

                           🫧

You’re …drowning? But you can breathe.

Are you in a dream? Is it because you touched that layla’s bond? Even though you didn’t do anything with it? All you did was press it between your fingers. Nothing was altered.

...It’s cold.

Freezing, even.

Laurentis’ ocean isn’t supposed to chill you to the bone like this. A body of water in a dream shouldn’t cause your muscles to spasm and your teeth to clatter. If it’s a dream, you aren’t supposed to feel anything.

Why can you?

What’s going on?

You don’t understand.

All you can do is curl up into a ball and hope that everything will end sooner rather than later.

You don’t stop yourself from sinking deeper into the waters. There’s no point. Dreams like this never end even when you try to escape.

When was the last time you had such a visceral dream?

Was it two, three years ago? Five? A decade? Even longer than that? You can’t remember. Do you even want to?

‘No.’

You don’t. You never want to remember. Because if you do, the sludge in your heart will expand and burst out of your chest.

‘Stop trying to pry into my thoughts.’

By opening your mouth, you release the air from your lungs. Maybe, just maybe, if you can get yourself to sink faster...

This doesn’t count as trying to escape, right?

  🫧

        🫧

Fwoosh.

Something zips past you.

Fwoosh, fwoosh.

It circles you.

Swoosh.

It slows down. You don’t move.

‘Don’t run away.’ Your instincts murmur.

It places its hands around you and pulls you in. “If you’re so scared, why did you do that?”

‘It’s...not the layla?’

“🫧,” all that escapes you is another burst of bubbles.

“Did you forget who I am? You can hide all you want, but as long as you’re part of the sea, I will always be able to find you. Even if you split your seafoam self in half to distract me with your laughter, there’s no way I wouldn’t be able to hear your moping at the bottom of the ocean.”

A hand brushes over the side of your head.

“Don’t hide your fears and sorrows like this. Everyone will think I’m incompetent at taking care of you.”

“🫧.”

“If you want to be considerate towards me, then just stay by my side no matter what. You can cry, laugh, scream... as long as your entirety is with me, I’ll be content.”

“...”

“Plus, if you want to protect me with your whole heart, you can’t be separating yourself like this.”

“🫧.”

“Mm. I’ll be holding you up to that.”

‘Oh...it doesn’t feel cold anymore.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It’s midafternoon when Zayne finally decides to check up on you. He lets himself inside after his knock fails to get a response. He finds you all curled up at the center of your bed. The plushies that accompany your bed are all over the place and your covers are in disarray.

Yesterday must’ve made you restless.

“Miss Matchmaker.” The doctor heads over to your bed. “Miss Matchmaker?”

All you do is curl into a tighter ball, which is good. It’s a sign that you’re alive, one way or another. He reaches over to pull the covers away from your face to help you breathe better, which inadvertently leads him to brush his fingers over the side of your head. Your body relaxes while he tenses up.

You’re frigid.

He places his hand against your face and — yep, just as cold as an ice cube. Zayne is about to reach for his phone when you open your eyes. A single tear falls from your eye and into your pillow.

“…?”

The cardiac surgeon can tell you’re still stuck in the thralls of slumber. He slowly moves his hand away from your face and fixes his posture. “I was just checking up on you. If you’re still tired, go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“No…mm’ fine,” you slur your words together as your mumble into the blankets. You don’t even really process who you’re talking to.  “What time is it?”

“Almost three in the afternoon.”

“…Well, it’s not like I had any deadlines to meet…”

‘Oh, but I have those resumes to look over.’ You push yourself up and fix your clothes. This is when you finally recognize that Zayne’s the one who came into your room. “Thanks for waking me up. Is there something you needed?”

“No. I came to check up on you since you’re usually awake by now.”

“I guess my sleeping schedule has been pretty regular as of late.” As you slip out of the covers, you pick up your fallen plushies and haphazardly toss them back onto your bed. Once all of your fluffy companions are back where they belong (somewhat), you grab the hoodie you left on the rocking chair and throw it on since you’re feeling a bit colder than usual.

From your periphery, you spot a black loaf waltzing through the open door.

“Hello, sweet Cinder,” you coo as the fluffball rubs itself on your legs. You lift Cinder put into your arms, letting him rest against your shoulder as you caress his silky pelt. Cinder shoves his face into your neck and begins purring up a storm.

“There’s some potato soup and scallion pancakes if you’re hungry, and if it’s alright with you, I’d like to borrow the car to go out and buy some more groceries.”  

“Go right ahead.”

‘Another car would be a good idea.’

“Is there anything you’d like for me to pick up?”

“Hmm… how are the cats on their food?” Speaking of your cats, you haven’t personally fed them in a while. Even after you woke up from your coma, Zayne has been taking care of it. He hasn’t said anything about not wanting to do it, so you’ve been letting him handle it.

“There’s a bag and a half of kibble and about fifteen cans of wet food.”

“What about their treats and supplements?”

“They’re running low on their freeze-dried chicken and sardine treats.”

“Then could you buy some? They should be available in the pet store that’s in the same shopping plaza as Nightjar Grocery. One bag of each should be fine.”

“Anything else?”

“It looks like Xavier likes beef, so maybe you could get some more of that this run?”

“Alright.”

“I can’t think of anything else, so just buy whatever you think is good. Do you want my credit card?”

“No. I still have the card you gave me.”

You walk over to your purse and retrieve your car keys. “Okay. Oh, bring some reusable bags with you. Do you know where they are?”

The tip of your fingers briefly drags along Zayne’s palm as you drop the keys into his hand. Your skin doesn’t feel as cold as it did earlier. “In the drawer adjacent to the dishwasher.”

“Looks like you know your way around the house.”

“I’ve been here for quite some time, so it would be strange if I wasn’t familiar with the layout.”

You chuckle. “That’s true. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you. I should be back within the next hour or two.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“Xavier is in the living room. Don’t hesitate to ask him for help if you need it.”

Did you do something to raise his concerns? Haven’t you been doing quite well these past few days? Maybe he’s just being cautious— he is a medical professional.

“Got it.”

“Then, I’ll head out now.” Zayne moves his hand and gives Cinder a few ear scratches, who affectionately waves his tail back and forth in return. He spends a few seconds watching the feline in your arms before making his way out of your room.

“Ah, you don’t need to shut the door.” You stop him as soon as he places his hand on the doorknob. “Cinder will want to leave once I start showering.”

He nods and lets go of the handle. You wait for his figure to completely disappear from your sight before you set Cinder down.

Once you do, you take the time to stretch your arms and roll your shoulders. Because of your terrible sleeping posture, your body aches. “Maybe a hot shower will help…”

With that, you grab some clean loungewear from your closet and head to the bathroom.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Laylas are intelligent. They see things humans can’t, and it’s because of their deep connection with ‘nature’s mirror’ (water). As you might expect, it can see through your deception. Not only that, but it can see your true reflection. It’s hazy and undefined, which isn’t unusual for your kind by any means, but it’s also hollow.

The layla rests its elbows against the top of Xavier’s book. It’s taken a liking to Xavier— laylas just love humans with blond hair and blue eyes. It’s something to do with the brightness or reflectiveness of these traits, or something along the lines of that.

It’s not a good thing to be liked by fairies.

“Outlier.” Using the coffee in Xavier’s mug, the layla speaks.

Xavier doesn’t like entertaining strangers, so he remains silent.

“Outlier.”

It fails to garner a response once again. That’s fine.

“I see you’re reading about myths and legends. Is there something you desire?”

His mouth remains sealed shut, but his gaze flickers up to the layla.

“If you do, I can help you obtain it. All you must do is fulfill a small request of mine.”

Xavier would rather trust a rabid animal than this floating water spirit. He flips the page of his book.

“I refuse.”

“Are you sure you want to refuse me so fast?”

“I don’t have the habit of trusting strangers.”

“Even if it means I can find a way to let you go back home?”

Xavier’s breath stills.

“Isn’t that your greatest desire?”

He glares at the fairy aptet.

The layla giggles, delighted to have struck Xavier’s cord. What a precious being.

“If you want, I can tell you how to do it. It’s very simple.”

Laylas are intelligent, but they are not all knowing. Water may be the world’s mirror, but a reflection can only appear when the subject is facing the surface.

“Something like that can’t be simple,” Xavier finally starts talking. He’s careful with his words and tone of voice. He’s not going to let this creature take advantage of him.

“Oh but it is. All you need to do is use the right tools.”

“Not interested.”

“Is that so?”

The hunter doesn’t bother to answer.

“I’ll leave the offer on the table.”

Laylas are intelligent, but they love interesting experiences.  The more unique and thrilling, the better, even if they end up harming themselves in the process.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Peonies, pears, and a hint of cedar wood mixed with rosemary and mint wafts into the living room as you step out of the bedroom. Xavier glances up from his novel to see you drying your hair with a towel. Dressed in an fluffy, oversized hoodie, you resemble a teddy bear that just left its den after a long season of hibernation.

The fairy aptet on the book springs up and lands on your shoulder. “Did you have a good night’s rest?”

“Indeed, I did; all thanks to you.” There isn’t an ounce of sincerity in your response. “Good afternoon, Xavier.”

“Mm. Good afternoon,” the blond responds as he returns to his book.

You walk over to the kitchen, grab a bowl and spoon from the drying rack, and pour yourself a helping of potato soup using the ladle. You then grab one of the scallion pancakes from the stack on the plate by the stove and start nibbling on it as you place the bowl in the microwave to heat up.  

“Is there something I can do for you?” You ask over the hum of the microwave.

The black liquid in the nearby coffee pot vibrates. “Would you kindly answer the questions I have for you?”

“I am more than willing to listen to your questions.” Whether or not you actually answer depends on the question itself.

The layla watches as you rip off another chunk of the pancake with your teeth. “Do you have attachments to this world?”

Had Egan been here, he would’ve covered your ears and whispered something your humanity wouldn’t allow you to understand. Without him here, all you can do is tread through the conversation with caution. Not responding would be the smartest idea, but you had a feeling that this layla will pester you if you don’t answer. So, what’s the best course of action?

To answer the question, of course. “All existences have attachments, which means I do too.”

“You speak with such confidence.”

“Well, it’s what my mentor taught me.”

“Who is your mentor?”

 “Just an ancient swindler. I wouldn’t recommend getting involved with them, even as intelligent as you are.”

“Are you saying that because you want to keep them for yourself?”

“Not at all. They’re a free spirit. I’ve never been able to stop them from doing anything after they set their mind to it.” Before the microwave has a chance to alarm, you press the stop button. You grab the bowl with your bare hands, unfazed by the heat. “Trying to monopolize someone like that is absurd.”

The feelings you have for them aren’t what the layla is implying anyways.

The layla waits for you to sit down at the dining table before it continues the conversation. “Even if it is absurd, it is natural to want to keep something precious and beautiful to yourself, is it not? That is why humans attempt to make deals with us or try to hunt us down.”

“What is natural is different for everyone. How you express your feelings and how others interpret them are two completely different things.”

“Hmmm… then how do you express your love and devotion?”

“It depends on the person.”

“Isn’t love all the same?”

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t. While most people think of romance as the main form of love, the affection you can hold for your friends, family, and even your pets can be called ‘love.’”

“What a strange thing to differentiate.”

“Perhaps, but that’s how I learned to interpret love. It gives me a lot more freedom.”

“More freedom?”

“Mhm. It gives me the mental space to express my feelings with more nuance. It gives me permission to love multiple people without feeling ashamed— not that I’ve ever believed that love was a finite source.”

‘The potatoes are so soft.’ A hum of delight slips through your mouth as you take a bite of the yellow potato.

“You’re really an interesting human. You seem so different from the other humans I’ve interacted with.”

‘I guess I should take that as a compliment.’ Using your spoon, you give the soup a few good stirs.

“Say.”

Turning your head, you face the tiny creature on your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Do you have someone in this world that you’d be willing to sacrifice your entire life for?”

“I don’t.” You aren’t going to let this aptet grasp your weakness that easily.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

‘Both of their resumes are good, but they aren’t exactly fitting to be working for a matchmaker. I could probably ask them to run a couple errands and help me organize some files, but that’s really about it.’ Setting aside your personal work preferences aside, Andrew and Lindsay Faulkner aren’t fit for your business. Not because they’re incompetent, but because their skills aren’t necessarily compatible. Training them would take months, and whipping up confidentiality contracts for their short term employment would be a pain.

‘Since it’s a favor from Erica, I don’t want to just reject them and move on…’ You bite the end of your pen. ‘With their field of studies in mind… maybe I can see if Agatha’s museum has some positions open.’

Agatha has provided internship opportunities to students at her museum, and the longer term ones were paid.

‘Mnesos doesn’t have much regarding geology, but there is a collection.’ Their collection of rocks and minerals are exceptional, thanks to the director@: attention to detail and dedication to her job, and the head curator of the geology department is a retired professor from the University of Seres. Andrew would have a fruitful experience with her. As for Lindsay, Mnesos is museum of human memoirs— so she’ll fit right in as an anthropology major.

‘I’ll call her.’

Agatha answers in three rings, “Hello.”

“Hey, Agatha. Just had a quick question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any student positions open at the moment?”

“Two or three. Why?”

“An acquaintance reached out asking if I could hire her friend’s grandchildren until next Lial. I looked over their resumes, but there isn’t really anything I can do with them aside from making them errand runners. One of them is a geology major while the other one is an anthropology major, so I figured I’d ask if you had anything at the museum.”

“Send their resumes to me. I’ll discuss this with Murr and Anya.”

With a few swipes on your tablet, you forward the resumes over to the director. “Let me know if you decide to hire them.”

“I will. I’m also surprised you even bothered looking over their resumes.”

“I only did it because I was fulfilling a favor. I don’t plan on taking apprentices or hiring a secretary for a while.”

You aren’t sure if you ever will.

“Makes sense. I’ll personally handle this so it gets through the system as quickly as possible.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“I need anything. Just stay alive and we’ll call it even.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Haha, alright, alright. I’ll try my best.”

You can hear her rolling her eyes. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Mm. Bye.”

‘Okay, now let’s send a message to those twins.’

You pick up your work phone and make a group chat with the twins using the phone numbers on their resumes.

[You: Good afternoon, this is the Amsden Matchmaking Services. I have gone over your resumes. Please give me a couple more days to organize some things.]

‘Anddd… done.’

Once you hit send, you put your work phone down and get up from your desk. ‘I’ll clean up the kitchen for when Zayne gets back.’ It’s been roughly an hour and a half since Zayne left to buy some groceries, so he should be home anytime now.

As you slip into the living room from your bedroom, you notice that Xavier’s still sitting on the couch, though he’s fast asleep. You grab the shawl off the massage chair and carefully place it over the blond, making sure to not disturb him or the critters sleeping beside him.

‘Like a prince from a fairytale.’

Xavier looks at you through his eyelashes as you walk over to the kitchen. ‘Starlight…?’

Chapter Text

As you’re finishing up your dinner, the doorbell rings. Zayne gets up from his seat, having already cleaned his plate, and heads over to see who’s at the door. You continue eating your chicken cutlet, though your movements slow down as you try to listen in on the situation that’s happening in the foyer.

It doesn’t take long for you to discover who decided to visit you during dinner: it’s Fiordispina and Graham.

You set down your silverware and get up. “Good evening Fiordispina, Graham. Is there something I can do for you?”

Fiordispina’s gaze soften the moment she locks eyes with you. “No, I just thought I’d stop by to see you before I left for my trip.”

“But you already did that a couple days ago, did you not?” You weren’t expecting to see Fiordispina for the next couple of months. You appreciate her company, of course, but you’re pretty confused by the situation.

She holds up a medium sized paper bag. You can make an educated guess on what’s inside based on the gifts she usually gives you, but that’s about it. “I did, but then I found some things that I thought might be useful for you, so I brought them over. When Graham found out I was coming over, he wanted to join me.”

“I figured you’d like to know what happened to the lady you encountered the other day,” Graham chipped in. “Since it’s a delicate situation, I figured it would be best to report it in person.”

“I appreciate it. Let’s sit down and chat for a bit then.”

Xavier and Zayne clear the kitchen table and head upstairs to give you and your guests some privacy. Graham watches them as they vanish up the stairs, his expression unreadable.

You wrap your hands around your cup of mint tea and look up at Fiordispina. The older woman takes this as a sign to start the conversation. “I did some experimenting the past couple of weeks and found a way to turn my elixirs into softgels.”

She pulls out a pill bottle from the bag and opens it, revealing dozens of red gel capsules. They’re about the same size as a 1400 mg fish oil capsule, so pretty decently sized.

“They don’t work as well as the infusions, but they’re portability is higher. I figured it would be better to have these on hand in case of an emergency,” Fiordispina informs. “I made three bottles of red infusion pills and a half bottle of green infusion pills. They’re shelf stable for about four months, but if you keep them refrigerated, they should last six.”

“How many would I need to take?”

“Levin said two pills healed a cut that went across his whole forearm, which took under two minutes. That was with him breaking the capsule and pouring the contents on his injuries. I’m not sure how many you’d need to take for systemic healing, but I’d guess at least four pills.”  

The infusions are obviously more effective than the capsules. Not only are they fresher, which makes them more potent, but there is a larger quantity of medicine. Still, like Fiordispina said, the pills are better than nothing in case of an emergency.

“Would it be dangerous to take a whole bottle?”

“It would be more likely for you to regurgitate the pills if you took that many. Just break the capsule over your injuries, unless they’re internal.”

“Got it.” You nod.

“If you need an infusion, call one of my people. I froze some for you. It’s best if you avoid doing anything overly reckless while I’m gone. There isn’t anyone in Regina who will be able to help you in the same manner as I can.”

She’s not tooting her own horn— it’s true. If you pulled another stunt like the one you did a month ago, you’re throwing yourself through death’s door with no lifeline to pull you back. At least, the lifelines available aren’t ones you can afford.

“Well, there’s one person that might be able to help,” Graham states. “But I don’t think you’d be happy if someone had her use her sequela on you.”

The person Graham is referring to is an acquaintance who can heal someone by poisoning another. Many would have to be sacrificed to heal you— meaning it’s not worth it.

“I won’t be doing that again, so we don’t need to think of that last case scenario.” You quickly push that idea away. “Is there anything else?”

“There’s a black tablet case. Hand it to Zayne when you get the chance. I’m also giving you a case of aptet stones.”

“What? Why?” The tablet for Zayne made sense, but aptet stones? Why would she give those to you? Knowing Fiordispina, the stones she brought over are likely to be high quality, like the ones she let you use as anchors for the Life Bonds.

“It’s not common for high purity stones, but their vitality can leech out of them. I’m giving you some more so you can use those to replenish the ones you already have. Crack the stone and leave it near the one you’re trying to replenish.”

“Crack the stone? Will a hammer work?”

“It should. Just make sure you don’t shatter it.”

“I’ll pay you for these.”

“No need. I had no use for them. Just some pretty rocks in a drawer. I also brought over a couple of tools for you. They should help you, in case someone’s causing you trouble.”

Being a biomedical engineer, Fiordispina crafts medical equipment and such, but she occasionally accepts commissions for weapons. In fact, she’s the one who crafted Cielo’s current set of handguns.

She lowers her voice. “It might’ve just been a horrible coincidence that those five men ended up in that state, but you shouldn’t brush off the possibility that someone’s targeting you. You’re the only Reginian who would dare to help them.”

You never thought of it that way, and while you want to say that’s absurd, you can’t deny the possibility. You’re valuable in terms of your title and abilities.

“I’ll try to keep an eye out.”

“Good. Well, that’s all I have to say. Graham.”

Graham rests his elbows against the table. “Regarding the individual you notified us about… they’re experiencing high levels of mental instability, likely due to the aptet infection and some preexisting problems. We noted scars on their arms and back. Further research is needed to determine the cause… but more importantly: they seem to see you as their path to salvation. Every day, they’ve been looking for you, begging you to fix them.”

Your whole body stutters. You don’t want to believe it. “That’s insane.”

“The infection can bring out the worst in us, so it could just be a temporary state. They might be idolizing you because you were trying to help her. Either way, we’ll be keeping them under our care for the meantime, so you don’t have to worry about bumping into them. I’ll update you whenever something happens.”

“...I appreciate it.”

Cleo’s bonds were removed. The only way that could happen is if there was someone with a similar sequela. If so, why would they target you? And why was Cleo under the impression that you could control fate? What did she want from you? Who did you “fix” for her to say that?

The crease between your eyebrows deepens as you try to think of the possible scenarios that would’ve led to that situation.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out,” Graham reminds you. “One way or another, we’re in this together.”

Your whole expression relaxes, but your chest still feels tight. “Thank you.”

‘I need to hurry.’ If someone was aiming for you, you needed to help them get back before anything else happens. You can’t have them get caught up in your mess.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Zayne returns downstairs after he hears Fiordispina and Graham leaving. You bump into him at the junction between the foyer and stairs. He places his hand just below the base of your neck to stabilize you as you regain your footing.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I wasn’t looking.”

‘Her back is all tensed up. Did something bad happen?’ He notes as he slowly removes his hand from you. “It’s alright. I also made a misjudgment.”

“You can go do your own thing; I’ll take care of the dishes. Oh, and Fiordispina left something for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. I’ll go grab it. Wait for me here.”  

You hand over a case. When Zayne opens it, he sees a tablet and two flash drives, each containing a terabyte of memory each. He zips the case back up and nods. “I’ll let her know I received her gift.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to do the dishes now.”

He watches you as you shuffle back to the kitchen. You’re hiding something again.

He pulls out his phone and sends a message to the biomedical engineer.

[I received the tablet and the flash drives. Thank you.]

He wanted to dive deeper into the concept of superators and related topics, but the information he could find on the internet felt lackluster. He just didn’t have the same academic and clinical resources as he did in Linkon.  The flash drives contained various documents and lectures Fiordispina personally selected for him to go over, and the tablet would give him access to all the databases Fiordispina had at her disposal. He did have to make a deal with her in order to obtain these resources, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do.

He was already watching over you anyways.

Ten seconds later, he receives a response from her.

[Fiordispina: No need to thank me. Just stay vigilant.]

[Fiordispina: If anything happens, I won’t be there to help her.]

[Fiordispina: I’ll say this now: if anything happens, don’t blame yourself for decisions she makes on her own.]

[Fiordispina: And don’t forget what I told you at the Anthesis.]

Don’t rely on her promises. If you must, make deals with her; those will hold more weight. Call for Egan if you think she’s doing something reckless.

[I understand.]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your phone vibrates as you’re returning to your room.

[935-6314-5429: Venerer’s Ravine. 0400. Bring some of your tools and a bag.]

It looks like you won’t be getting a full night’s rest. 

Venerer’s Ravine, also known as the Mass Grave. There lie the bodies of those who passed in the previous era, when turf wars were common and Regina was seen as a lawless land. There’re so many corpses that the stench of rot can reach the outskirts of the Junes District on particularly windy days. If that isn’t enough to deter you, it’s now infested with hostile aberrants that resemble those zombies you see in action-horror films because some people decided it was a good idea to keep the tradition of tossing their dead enemies, which were infected, into the ravine. Since that incident, the local government bodies have placed barricades to prevent trespassers, which is great. Thing is that the barb wire and electric fencing is nothing more than suggestion to those who have a few screws knocked loose.

You roll your shoulders a couple times before responding to the text.

[You: Is this the payment for my request?]

The only one who would invite you to such a place unprompted would be Koven. She treats these kinds of places like they’re some amusement park or all-you-can-eat buffet.

[935-6314-5429: This will be the easiest way to pay me back for escorting you.]

[935-6314-5429: Unless you fancy a trip down the Wishing Well or Lake Natrix?]

You’d rather not.

[You: What would you like me to collect for you?]

[935-6314-5429: Clavicles.]

[You: I’ll be there.]

[935-6314-5429: I’ll mark the path for you.]

‘I’ll bring a few scalpels along with a few carving knives. Devon’s handgun too. Should I bring some liquor with me? Probably not. Some mint ointment to cover up the dead body smell should be enough. And some isopropyl alcohol for the blood.’

From your closet, you pull out some old clothes that you don’t mind ruining, along with your tallest pair of rainboots. You also opt to sacrifice the extra-large tote bag you received from one of your clients, who ended up becoming a stalker after his relationship with another client failed. Why it’s still in your closet is a bit of a mystery, but today’s a good day to get rid of it. You’re pretty sure filling a bag you received as a gift with bloody clavicles is a way to curse the gifter, but that’s not the point.

The scalpels, isopropyl alcohol, and mint ointment are all in your bathroom while the carving knife set is on the top shelf of the pantry. Devon’s handgun, much like the rest of your self-defense tools, are in a hidden compartment beneath your bed’s headboard. Your grandparents had installed the compartment, though it was for keeping their valuables safe, not weapon storage.

You place the handgun on your desk and retrieve the maintenance kit from beneath your desk. It’s been a while since you’ve touched it, so it definitely needs some TLC before you try using it. Using the instructions Devon left for you, you carefully take the gun apart and clean everything with the utmost dedication. You lubricate what needs to be lubricated and polish what should be polished— nothing gets missed, not when the manual is written with all the details you’d ever need.

‘Let’s hope I don’t need to use you tonight.’ You give the barrel one last wipe before setting the gun down.

All your preparations are done. Now, it’s time for you to get some sleep.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You offer a piece of rotting flesh to each Ascalapha odorata (black witch moths) you encounter through the ravine. The moths happily feast on the offering as you retrieve the clavicles from the bodies littered throughout the area.

‘Koven did quite the number. This is going to take a while.’

You aren’t being particularly careful with your cuts. There is no need to be, you aren’t dissecting them for study, and the muscles aren’t important. Plus, with the number of bodies, if you take your time removing the collarbones, you’d be here for the whole day. You grimace as you inevitably take another whiff of decay through the two masks you’re wearing. Even the ointment you smothered between the pieces of fabric doesn’t offer you much solace.

As you’re focused on retrieving the bones and not throwing up, you seemingly fail to notice the person lingering in the shadows a few meters away. They watch you tear through flesh with your cutting knives and yank out the delicate bones from the bodies with unusual dedication.

A moth lands on the top of your head.

“Yes, yes; I’ll hurry up.” You drop the two clavicle bones into your bag and get up. “Your cousins must be getting hungry.”

Two moths decide to perch themselves on your shoulder, while another takes a seat on your knuckle.

“I brought some honey too. The kind made with drape orchids. Maybe your master will let you have a sweet treat after your actual meal.”  

More moths land on you as you venture further into the ravine.

“You don’t want the honey? Then, what should I provide as a thanks for guiding me through this treacherous path?”

The figure in the shadows follows you, matching their footsteps to yours to stay off your radar.

“Ah.” One of your six-legged friends lands right on your left eyebrow. “I see. Then hold on tight; I’m going to pick up the pace.”

Pieces of gravel fly up as you break into a sprint. You’re not the most athletic, and the rainboots make it difficult to run, but you don’t slow down, not even when you see the pond made of alexandrite water. In fact, your pace only quickens, and you make a leap of faith just before your toes touch the water.

Gunshots ring as the sun breaks through the horizon. “Looks like I missed one. Sorry ‘bout that!”

With some help, you land on the boulder at the center of the pond. “To think that there would be an aberrant that could escape your radar. Have you gone rusty, Koven?”

“Me? Rusty? You’ve gotten better at makin’ jokes. I just wanted to see if that thing had the guts to hurt humans. It ran away as soon as I looked at it.”

You turn to look at the thing that’s been tailing you this whole time. It’s an aberrant that has the shape of a bipedal moose. Some might even call this creature a wendigo. “So? What’s your verdict?”

“It ain’t got guts if it hunts the unsuspecting, but it’s definitely sly— I’ll give it that.” Koven removes her hand from your waist. “Lemme see the haul.”

You hand over the tote bag. “I couldn’t collect all of the collarbones since I had to go through a chase sequence once I reached the three-quarters mark.”

“That’s fine. They’re ‘bout to hatch so they don’t need much.” Koven is about to turn the bag upside down when she snaps her head to look at you. “Let’s get you away from the pond before I do this. You don’t have poison resistance.”

“That’s a good idea.”

‘She’s completely capable of being my escort, she’s completely capable of being my escort, she’s completely capable of being my escort…’

Koven lifts you up into her arms and jumps off the boulder with practiced ease. She lands a good meter or two away from the shoreline— something you could only dream of doing. Once she sets you down, you pull out a few small jars of honey from your utility jacket.

“Drape orchid honey; a token of appreciation for the black witches.”

“Thanks. I’ll give it to ‘em in a bit. Did you want an escort on your way out?”

“The sun’s coming up, so I should be fine.” You pat the handgun that’s strapped to your hip. “Plus, I have this.”

“Aight. When and where did you want to meet up on the ninth?”

“Meet me at Vaut’s Domain at ten pm. I’ll be waiting for you at Volent.”

“Volent at twenty-two…got it. See you then, Matchmaker.”

“Yes. Have a good day.”

You’re slowly walking away when you hear violent sizzling. Koven must’ve tossed the bag of bones into the pond. Had you stayed with her, your skin would’ve melted off. Had you fallen into the pond, you would’ve suffered a horrible death via acid. The only benefit, if you could call it that, would be the fact that you would’ve become nourishment for Koven’s white witch moths (Thysania agrippina).

You sigh. It’s a good thing you didn’t slip or fall. That would’ve been a horrible way to die.

‘Now I don’t have to worry about paying Koven back. I can’t really go home smelling like dead bodies, so I’ll take a shower at the studio apartment. As for these clothes…it should be fine if I dump them in the dumpster the butcher shop uses. Should I pick up some breakfast and bring it back? But Zayne just bought groceries. Oh, but I can visit Enya and pick up some more coffee beans. Since it’s the Harvest Festival, they should have some limited-edition flavors. I can also pick up some chocolate and salted caramel syrup for the layla. My appointment with Jibril is in two days. I have the hydrangea tea he likes so I should be all set with drinks. Going off Serendipity’s tastes, I should prepare some cream puffs for Solstice. A bitter marmalade cake would be good too, since the hydrangea tea is fairly sweet. I’ll call Wane to see if they can take my order.’

You successfully make it out of Venerer’s Ravine without any trouble.

Chapter Text

🎶

The sky I look up at is starting to ripple and murmur

The voice of light says, “You’ve come this far”

Bringing the two of us closer

🎵

A relic of the past begins to play as you enter Enya, your go-to coffeehouse. Not only do they have various artisan and local blends available, but they work hard to be as close to zero-waste as possible and donate half of their profits to sustainability projects. The owners, a wonderful couple, also work hard to support a local orphanage, one that was on the verge of being shut down due to lack of funds. With so much empathy towards the world and their community, you’re happy to be one of their regular customers.

The employee at the counter, one you don’t recognize, greets you with enthusiasm, “Welcome to Enya!”

🎶

Soaring through the night sky like a dazzling shooting star

Circling around, heading to where you are

Now, I’ll fly

Before the morning comes

🎵

You can’t help but smile at their brightness. “Good morning.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” They ask as you step up to the counter.

“I was hoping to purchase some coffee beans.” At Enya, the coffee beans are stored in a separate room to preserve their quality.

🎶

If just one wish could come true

I want to find you without hesitation

Through the freezing cold wind

I’ll fly alone

If I keep going without looking back

There, the two of us can meet

🎵

“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” The employee made their way out from behind the counter.

‘Looks like they’re just a bubbly person,’ You note the little bounce in her step as she takes you to the room with the coffee beans. In a way, they remind you of Miriam. ‘I should contact her to see how she’s doing.’

“If you need anything, you can just press the button located on the edge of each table,” they inform as they push the door open for you. “And please make sure to label the canisters with the labels so we can ring you up for the right product!”

“Thank you.” You nod your head as you take a step inside.

🎶

With sure footsteps

Avoiding the raging storm

Your voice says, “You’ve come this far”

Urging my wings forward

🎵

You wait for the door to close behind you before taking a deep breath. While not usually the drink of your choice, the aroma of coffee always lifts your mood.

You walk over to the table that has all the newest flavors available. With plenty to choose from, you take your time to examine each one. The one named ‘Fluffy Joys’ smells like marshmallows with a hint of vanilla. ‘Fruit Basket’ is a light roast with a fruity scent. ‘Midnight Express’ is herbaceous with slightest aroma of rosemary honey.

🎶

Swaying in the distance

Even in the dazzling mirage

Dragging myself, heading to where you are

Now, I’ll fly

Just one more time

🎵

‘I probably shouldn’t buy more than three pounds.’ It wouldn’t do you any good if you bought more than you could use in a timely manner. It would be a waste if such good beans went stale, but there are so many to choose from— it would be a shame to not indulge in a few fun flavors.

🎶

If just one wish could come true

I want to find you without hesitation

Roaring jet flights in the blue sky, higher

I’ll fly alone

If I keep going without looking back

I can meet you soon

🎵

In the end, you decide to grab a half-pound bag of Midnight Express, a half-pound bag of Strawberry Sweetheart, a pound of Cradle, and a pound of Incalescent. Incalescent, where it’s grown, has a smooth and well-balanced flavor with mellow notes and little acidity. The chocolatey and slightly peppery undertone gives it a warm and comforting element to the drink, especially when brewed hot. It’ll be good for the colder months.

Using one of the baskets located by the door, you carry the bags of coffee beans to the check out counter. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I also get a couple bottles of syrup?” You request in a soft voice.

“Of course! Which ones would you like?”

“A six-ounce bottle of the salted maple syrup, eight ounces of the chocolate syrup, oh, and an eight-ounce jar of pistachio cream.”

While salted caramel was a staple flavor, the layla was probably getting tired from all the caramel candies, so you opted for the salted maple syrup. It’s quite tasty, especially on a stack of fluffy pancakes or crispy waffles with some Greek yogurt and fresh berries.

“Since you didn’t bring in your own containers, there will be 3-dollar upcharge for the containers— is that alright?”

“Yes. While you’re at it, please ring me up for a paper bag. I was in a rush today, so I didn’t bring anything but my essentials.” You pull your wallet out of your back pocket and reach for your credit card.

The employee quickly adds the paper bag to your order. “Is there anything else you needed today?”

“Nope, that’s all for today.”

They pack your order and ring you up within the next minute. “Thank you for your business, please come again!”

You slip a few dollars into the tip jar before taking your bag of goodies. “I will. Have a wonderful day.”

A pair of eyes follow you as you make your way towards the door. It’s not an inappropriate leer or anything, but their gaze lingers on the door just a little longer than it should. ‘Helah? No… it can’t be. She’s too young.’

“Grandpa Ingram? What’s the matter?” the employee at the counter calls out to the old man who’s staring at the door. “Did you need something from that lady?”

“Oh, no, no. I just mistook her for an old acquaintance.” Ingram limps his way to the counter. “Will you make me a cup of coffee, Vanna dear?”

“Sure! What blend would you like today?”

“A cup of Petrichor, if you could.”

“With your usual mint syrup and almond milk?”

“Yes, if you could.”

🎶

If just one wish could come true

I want to find you without hesitation

Through the freezing cold wind

I’ll fly alone

If I keep going without looking back

There, the two of us can meet

🎵

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Xavier is sitting on the porch, basking in the morning sunlight, when you return home. He opens his eyes as soon as he hears the car engine turn off and gets up from the bench to walk over to the garage.

“Good morning; you’re up early,” you say as soon as you get out of your car.

He rubs his eyes before grabbing the paper bag from you. “Mm, that buzzing water droplet was being noisy, so I left the house to sit outside for some peace and quiet.”

You snort at the nickname Xavier gave to the layla. “I see. It must be quiet attached to you.”

“It was looking for you, but you weren’t home.”

“Ah, yeah. I went out early to run a couple of errands for a friend. Then, I decided to go and get some coffee beans.”

“This bag is pretty heavy— is it all coffee?”

“No.” You open the door to the laundry room and hold it open for Xavier. “There’re some syrups and a container of pistachio cream in there too. Those are made in-house at my favorite coffeehouse, and they’re very tasty.”

“Hmmm…”

“I’ll spread some of the butter on some toast for you to try. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Ah, good morning, Zayne.”

Zayne just finished setting up the table when the two of you entered the dining room area. “Mm. Good morning. I was about to call you to see where you were.”

“Sorry, my friend needed me to run some errands, so I was rushing to get those done. Then, I got caught up trying to pick out some new coffee for the house. I should’ve let you guys know I was stepping out.”

“I would be grateful if you did that. I realize you are an adult fully capable of taking care of yourself, but you’ve just recovered from your episode, so it wouldn’t be good if you got hurt so soon.”

Zayne still remembers that first night when you collapsed. It was like he was holding a corpse. His concern has only increased after Fiordispina indirectly told him you were hiding the severity of your condition.

Xavier sets the paper bag on the kitchen counter, allowing you to retrieve the pistachio cream. “It would be nice to know where the owner of the house is, since she has many animals to take care of,” the blond adds.

“Ahaha, that’s true. I’ve been pushing their care onto you. Once this week is over, everything should settle down, and I’ll be able to take care of my little kitties.”

A voice reverberates directly into your ear. “Ah, you’re back! How could you leave me behind? Weren’t you the one who asked me to stay by your side?”

It doesn’t take long for you to process who’s talking when a cold body slams against your cheek. ‘Well, aren’t you acting a little childish today?’ The layla’s seem to be most interested in Xavier, so you’re honestly surprised that it’s upset that you left the house without them. That being said, you don’t think Xavier bothers interacting with them unless he’s getting annoyed, so maybe you’re more entertaining in the sense that you actually respond to them.

“I figured you were getting a little tired of the candies I had around the house, so I went out to buy some syrups for you to try. There’s salted maple and chocolate syrup; would you like to try either of them right now?”

“Salted maple syrup? What’s that?”

“Maple syrup is made by reducing the sap of maple trees. Basically, we remove the extra water in the sap, making it sweeter and thicker. For this syrup, there’s a little bit of salt added to enhance the natural flavors and balance out the sweetness,” you explain, pulling out the bottle of maple syrup as you do so. You bring it to your seat, along with the pistachio cream, and carefully pour some on your soup spoon. You offer the spoon of sweet amber fluid to the little aptet on your shoulder. “Here; try some.”

The coffee in mugs buzz as soon as the layla takes its first sip of the salted maple syrup. A heartfelt chuckle escapes your lips, and you uncap the syrup bottle. “Looks like another spoonful is in order.”

The layla begrudgingly releases the spoon to let you pour some more syrup on it. “Tree sap has always been a delightful treat, but to think your kin managed to turn it into something greater… Truly impressive.”

‘There’s maple candy too, but I shouldn’t mention it. I should be able to bring it home before it begins to snow. It’s pointless to mention something they won’t be able to experience.’

Not only the layla— you are hoping to figure everything out for the group of men you mysteriously found in the mirror before Haiem came. If you can’t find the root cause of this whole ordeal, at the very least, you want to send them back home and reunite them with the love of their life.

‘I shouldn’t keep her death a secret either. I doubt I’ll be able to remedy that…’

There is no need to fight death. Even with all the needles in your heart, you understand that it’s inevitable. The fire and the storm within you roar only because of the lack of justice and all the suffering your companions have endured.

‘Grief isn’t linear. And I do not know them enough to determine how they will mourn. At the very least, I can try to give them some space to handle it.’

Animosity may develop, and that’s quite alright. It won’t be the first time you’ve faced rage and hostility.

‘Either way, I’m only going to be a small part of their story.’

You place the empty spoon on your plate. “I’ll give you some more once I’m done eating.”

“Mrrow.” Instead of the layla, a black fuzzball responds to you as it bounces into your lap.

“Hi, Sootie.” You lean down and press a couple of kisses against Soot’s forehead. Soot returns the gesture by bumping his head against your chin and purring loudly against your chest. You get him to settle in your lap by petting him with your nondominant hand. After that, you grab the pistachio cream and unscrew the lid off.

It’s hard to spread the cream over toast with just one hand, but you manage. “Here, Xavier.”

Rather than watch him take a bite of the toast with pistachio cream, you reach for your cup of coffee. It’s still warm, but it’s cooled down enough for you to chug half of the cup. Exhaustion from the excursion you had earlier this morning is starting to settle in, but you still had some work to take care of, so you couldn’t fall asleep just yet.

Xavier takes a bite of the toast as you’re focused on your cup of coffee. The cream is rich and nutty with sweetness that isn’t as tooth-rotting as he expected it to be. You managed to slather on a thin layer, allowing the buttery aroma of the milk bread sneak out from beneath the spread. It’s not mind-blowing, but the flavor is nice— enough for him to finish it in a few bites.

“How is it?” You ask as you stab your fork into a cherry tomato.

He answers without much enthusiasm, “it’s good. Reminds me of those Ferrero Rochers but with a different nut.”

You slide the spread towards the center of the table. “Use it whenever you’d like. And before I forget, I have a meeting with a client tomorrow evening at six thirty PM. The day after that, I’ll be out at an event starting at eight PM. I’m not sure when it’s supposed to end, so make sure to turn on the security alarms before you head to bed. There’s a control pad in my bedroom and by the front entrance with written instructions. I’ll call a taxi to get me to the event, so you can use the car if you need to.”

“For tomorrow, did you need me to prepare dinner for you?” Zayne inquires.

You shake your head. “No. My meetings with this client tend to be long. I won’t be home before eight.”

Jibril’s cases aren’t necessarily complicated, but there’s a lot of details to shuffle through, and it takes time to find the right threads to follow. 

You rap your fingers against the table. “I might not even be able to come back for the night…”

Neither of the men at the table speak up, but you can practically hear the gears turning in their heads.

“This client isn’t using my services for matchmaking,” you clarify. “I help him with intel gathering. He’s been a regular since I became my mentor’s apprentice.”

Back then, Jibril was a young, earnest man fresh out of training. He remains earnest, and his heart remains soft and palpable, but experience and wisdom has taught him to keep his emotions hidden behind a mask. Wrinkles have begun to form between his eyebrows and in the corners of his eyes— all from those sleepless and often sorrowful nights. It won’t be long until stress and age turn his ochre locks gray and white.  

‘Now that I’m thinking about it…’

Your guests have been here for a month.

‘If I want to get them home before the new year, then I’m going to need to do some more research.’

At this point, you’ve been banking on the fact that the Watch of Guilfoyle is going to be one of the secret items at Ryan Geier’s auction, but there’s no guarantee that’s the case. You’ll need to work out a few backups.

‘’Mentor would be able to find some more ‘unawakened’ sentients for me, but they aren’t here. Diletta might be able to help…’

Diletta would find something for you, but she’ll make you work for it. The last time you requested something from her, you had to guess the ingredients in her mystery concoction, down to the three drops of aged ginseng concentrate, which had been completely overpowered by the bitter melon juice. That wasn’t a pleasant experience, but she was kind enough to leave out the raw onion and celery juice she added to Egan’s portion.

‘I’ll wait until after the auction to go and ask her. If she doesn’t have anything, then I’ll reach out to Lumiere.’

You fold the sunny side up egg in half and shove the whole thing into your mouth. ‘Well, one thing at a time.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Before you know it, it’s minutes before your meeting with Jibril. The day before went by in a flash, mostly because you slept most of it away after you finished breakfast and made a couple of semi-urgent business calls. Most of today morning was spent figuring out what to bring with you since you decided to get ready at the studio apartment above the office and taking care of the cat litter boxes  since they were overdue for a full cleaning. Chester also came by, as promised, with a basket full of plump cherries and a lovely galette, which you ended up sharing with him over a cup of simple black tea. Once he left, you went upstairs and stated getting ready for your first ‘official’ client meeting in a while.

Jibril probably wouldn’t mind if you showed up to the meeting wearing joggers and a T-shirt, but you had a reputation to maintain. Slipping into the uniform, which consists of many elegant layers, you feel your mind settling into ‘Matchmaker’ mode. Slowly, with each accessory and makeup application, you become less yourself and more like the public’s depiction of the Matchmaker.

All that’s left is a spritz of your favorite woody floral perfume — and voila: you’ve become the 6^th generation Matchmaker. You offer yourself a kiss on your left wrist, for good luck, and make your way downstairs.

First thing you do is fill the electronic water kettle to the appropriate temperature for the hydrangea tea you’re about to brew. Then, you retrieve the tea from the cabinet and select the tea set you want to use.

‘Let’s go with this set.’ You grab the set of porcelain tea wear that had a bunny motif and bring it to the coffee table.

The hydrangea flowers are added to a sieve, which is then placed in the teapot that you’ve pre-rinsed. Once the water’s warm enough, you pour it into the pot and allow the flowers to seep for a couple minutes as you prepare the cutlery needed for the desserts you’ve prepared: an assortment of cream puffs, the marmalade cake, and some mini chestnut tarts. The tea is plenty sweet on its own, but you transfer some milk into a miniature pitcher just in case someone wants to mellow out the sweetness.

The door bell chimes, and you get up to open he door for your guests.

“Good evening, Miss Matchmaker,” two voices greet you simultaneously.

The smile that appears on your face is as serene as the moon’s reflection on a frozen lake. “Good evening, Mister Rigot, Mister Charmicheal. I have been awaiting your arrival.”

After locking the door behind them, you take Solstice and Jibril to your office. You wait for them to sit down before taking a seat yourself.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you. How have you been, Miss Matchmaker?” Jibril questions as you pour a cup of tea for everyone.

“I’ve been doing well, though I will admit I ended up overdoing it while fulfilling a personal request, which led to my unplanned absence,” you respond, sliding the cups over to your guests.

“Sounds like something you’d do,” he chuckles. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little reckless while you’re still young.”

Solstice hums, “I agree— but it is important to understand your own limits. Your life is precious.”

“I can’t deny that.”

You hand a slice of marmalade cake to Jibril and a couple of cream puffs to Solstice. “How much time did you set aside for this meeting, Mister Charmichael?”

“An hour. Will that be enough?”

You look over to Jibril, who answers, “That should be plenty. Thank you for making time for this last minute request. I understand that you’re an incredibly busy individual.”

“I couldn’t turn a blind eye. I’ve dedicated my whole life to helping people stand up again after they’ve experienced life-changing horrors. It wouldn’t sit well with me if my songs were used for wrongdoings.”

“Is that your way of admitting you’re a Superator?”

“I thought that was already established beforehand?”

“Your ability to manipulate people with your voice is nothing but an interesting rumor to the general public. Miss Matchmaker hadn’t confirmed or denied that information when I contacted her last.”

You set your tea cup down. “I believe it’s best if the individual themselves revealed that information. It can be quite personal.”

Solstice smiles. “Thank you. But yes, I am a Superator with the ability to influence people using songs.”

“May I ask how your ability works?”

“It’s convoluted, but you can think of it as an illusion or even mind manipulation, but it isn’t mind control. And it only works while I’m singing. My ability is also one that requires me to make a conscious decision to use it.”

“So, technically, it’s possible for you to lure someone.”

“If I sang Siren’s Allure or Come Hither, then there’s a chance.”

“Have you ever tried to record a song where you used your ability?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Would it be alright if you tried right now? If you are not comfortable, that is perfectly fine. You’ve given me plenty of information.”

Solstice crosses his legs. “I… suppose not. But, I’d like to do it in private.”

“I’ll take you up to the studio apartment,” you offer. “There’s a walk in closet that you can use.”

“Thank you…”

You and Solstice get up from your seats. “We’ll be back. Feel free to each whatever you’d like, Mister Rigot.”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

Solstice doesn’t talk until you’re both inside the studio. “I’m sorry. I trust your judgement, but…”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. You have the right to tell him as much or as little as possible. He can’t do anything about it.”

He looks at you with a gentle expression. “You are truly kind.”

“Not at all.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your cup of tea is cold by the time you get another chance to drink it. Solstice left to return to work, and Jibril is currently organizing the information he received during his conversation with the vocalist.

[Solstice’s ability does not work through recordings.]

“Thank you for arranging that meeting, Miss Matchmaker,” Jibril extends his gratitude towards you once again. “It’ll help with the investigation.”

“There’s no need to thank me for something like that. Mister Charmichael came on his own volition. I only informed him of the situation.”

“Still, I would’ve never gotten to chance to meet him if you hadn’t been willing to reach out to him for me.”

You change the topic as you return the cup to its saucer. “So, what else can I do for you tonight?”

“Oh right.” Jibril pulls out his phone and quickly swipes through it before handing it to you. “I actually was going to cancel the appointment I had with you since I managed to conclude the case with the help of Daniel and his team, but an acquaintance sent me this video later that evening. Listen to it with the sound on.”

Nothing seems out of place; it’s just a recording of someone walking around the exterior of what appears to be Vaut’s Domain, judging from the fluorescent lights and the amethyst badge you can see on the security guards’ vests. The recorder continues to walk down the street, passing a few bars, clubs, and Sapphira’s Auction House.

They’re about to reach the parking lot when you hear something— someone singing.

It almost sounds like Solstice, but the song is nothing he’s performed before.

The camera pans to the side, now recording a dimly lit side street. Since the recorder is in the middle of the crowd, it’s hard to see, but you catch it.

Someone with purple hair approaching a woman wearing a pink dress. The way he limps and sways towards her reminds you of a drunkard— and that assumption only solidifies when he practically collapses on top of her.

A white car pulls up, and the woman practically throws the man inside. Your frown deepens.

You pause the video. “What did your acquaintance say when they sent you this video? What got them to record this?”

It looks normal. Sure, interaction with the purple haired man and the woman in the pink dress was a little strange, but it wasn’t necessarily out of place.

“You can read the messages he sent with the video.”

You swipe off the video and start skimming the messages.

[Ed: I’m pretty sure he’s the man who visited my art studio a couple days ago to participate in my free art lesson. He left a strong impression on me because of his artistic talent.]

[Ed: I asked him what was the meaning behind his painting, but he didn’t say anything. I think he’s struggling. His painting was full of sorrow, like he lost a loved one.]

[Ed: I also got the impression he was a foreigner… though I don’t have much proof of that. There’s something about him that feels foreign.]

[Ed: I could be wrong, but I happened to catch that video and thought something was off…]

[Ed: It might just be me overthinking, but you know how it is. After the situation with my brother… I can’t help but… be more wary.]

You return to the video and scroll through it— frame by frame. You scrutinize every detail, especially the interaction between the man and woman.

Eventually, you turn on your ability. It requires much more effort, but it’s not impossible to see people’s bonds through video.

“Miss Matchmaker?”

You’re completely frozen in your seat.

“Jibril, what art studio does Ed own?” You voice is practically buzzing with urgency.

“Demiurge Studios…”

“Are they still open?”

“Ed might be at the studio still since he doesn’t like to leave his bench until he’s done, but what’s going on? You aren’t telling me anything, so I’m struggling to wrap m head around what you’re trying to do.”

“If that man is who I think he is— then Ed just recorded a kidnapping.”

“Well, toss the bone to the dog. Let’s go to Ed’s right now.”

Chapter Text

Patience is one of the few similarities Egan and their mentor, Devon, had with each other. Despite their carefree nature, or perhaps because of it, Egan almost always maintained this uncanny stoicism. It always manages to throw people off, the way he can maintain his composure.

You recall the time when Egan vanished for a full month during your university years. At that time, you were experienced enough to manage the company, but it was a chaotic time, since you had to deal with everything yourself. When they returned, they acted as if nothing had happened— like they just returned from a day trip to Branton or something. You were, understandably, upset by the entire situation, leading you to spike their tea with quinine concentrate and hot sauce for the next two weeks. Despite the liquid torture, they never fessed up. Devon was the one who revealed everything to you.

That’s when you truly saw them as a fraud.

‘I wish you taught me how to be as patient as you are.’ You think to yourself as you push through the crowd. ‘I’ve been carried away by the wind for too long.’

Jibril struggles to keep up with you. He just isn’t as nimble as you are, and your outfit makes you blend in with the various employees wandering around, promoting their businesses. It doesn’t help that you don’t bother to wait for him to catch up either—but he doesn’t blame you. The urgency is reasonable.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt if you remembered he was with you.

The private investigator manages to catch up with you once he made it to the art studio. He finds you staring at the various paintings being displayed in the dimly lit space through the large front windows. He takes a moment to adjust his suit and hair, which got ruffled up from his little ‘chase.’

“I’ll call Ed and have him open— hey, are you okay?” Jibril freezes as soon as he catches a glimpse of your face.

You turn to face him, revealing the rivulets of tears streaming down your face. He swiftly retrieves the packet of tissues from his front pocket and opens it up. Your gaze slides down to the tissues.

Jibril’s frown deepens. “What did you see?”

Your attention floats back to what caused your tears. “The sea’s anguish.”  

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Devotion. That’s the only way to describe the relationship the men have with Miss Hunter. In ways unique to them, they all acted upon the devotion and love they had for her. You’ve known that from the get-go, but the painting Rafayel left behind reaffirms it. At the center of the canvas is a core made up of carnation pink. Ruby, lapis, and amethyst cradle the pink in a firm and endearing embrace... only for everything to be ruined with a violent streak of silver blue.

It leaves you breathless— in the way a blade to the chest would.

The threads attached to the painting, which were aimlessly floating across the canvas when you caught sight of them from beyond the window, clamor towards you, begging for solace. You gather the bonds and press them against your chest. Threads of sorrow and grief they may be, but they are still able to deliver comfort to their owner. You can only hope your weak heartbeat is enough to ease some of his misery, even for a few seconds.

“Would you allow me to take this painting? I would like to return it to the artist.” With the painting being the only clue you have of Rafayel, you couldn’t let it slip away.

A pale pink hue began to settle in your eyes, causing your irises to glow ominously. Ed flinches as you turn around and direct your undivided attention to him. Your relentless stare tells him your request is a demand. You never intended to ask for permission.

Ed clasps his trembling hands together. “Y, yes! If you’re taking it back to the artist, then I would be more than happy to give it to you… I just hope…”

He swallows the bile rising from his throat. “…that you’d be able to tell me when you return it to him…”

“Absolutely. If you provide me with a business card or your contact information, I will be sure to notify you.”

“I’ll grab a card and some supplies to pack up the painting then!” Ed shuffles away, leaving you alone with Jibril.

Jibril steps closer to you. “You’re agitated.”

‘You’re going overboard. Calm down.’ Your eyes dim down a little.

“He must be important to you.”

“He’s my guest. I’m responsible for him.”

It was wrong of you to let them go on their own. At the very least, you should’ve asked someone to keep an eye on them. That way, you could’ve prevented this from happening to them.

‘I hope I’m just jumping to conclusions, but...’ Your eyes wander back to the painting. While bonds share colors between people—the weave its composed of is completely unique to the individual. Someone could place hundreds of detached ‘romance bonds’ in front of you, and you’d still be able to identify who they belonged to. You risked your life repairing Rafayel’s (and the others) Life Bond. There was no way you’d mistake someone else’s for his. Not when the tips of your fingers still prickle and sting from that day.

Pressing your lips together, you release the bonds in your hand. They immediately retaliate by coiling around your wrist. They’re rather reactive despite being inanimate.

“Are you going to look for him tonight? If you are, then—”

You interrupt him with a quick, “You should go back home. It’s not often you can enjoy a meal with Han.”

Han, or Hansel, is Jibril’s lover. He worked as a priest for a couple years before switching careers. Now, he works as a veterinary assistant at Sage Animal Hospital. You’ve met him a few times during your pet’s checkups. He’s a kind, gentle, and warm individual. It’s no wonder Jibril fought tooth and nail to take him back.

“What about you?”

“I’ll take the subway back to my office.”

“With a painting? Let me take you back.”

“You live in the opposite direction.”

“It’s barely a detour. Plus, it won’t sit right with me if I just left you here.”

“Then you should take the rest of the marmalade cake home. Hans like it, doesn’t he?”

Jibril sighs, “If I accept it, will you let me take you back to the office?”

You smile.

“Then I’ll take the cake.”

Your conversation with Jibril ends as Ed returns with the cardboard, bubble wrap, and glassine. Before he begins packing Rafayel’s painting up, he gingerly hands you his business card. “I also wrote my personal phone number on the back...”

“Thank you, and I apologize for earlier. I was feeling a bit agitated.”

Ed shakes his head and waves his hands from side to side. “Oh no, it’s completely fine! We all have days like that. But thank you for apologizing.”

“You have some wonderful paintings on display. By any chance, do you have any pieces you’re willing to sell?”

“For now, no... but if you’re interested in purchasing something, I do have some prints by the register that are for sale.”

“Would it be alright if I went and took a peek at them?”

“Go right ahead! I’ll pack up the painting in the meantime.”

You wander over to the register, where there’s a small display and some poster bins. You flip through the display, examining each piece. Most of them are landscapes, but there’s a couple of cityscapes and animals as well. What catches your attention is, of course, the print with the three black cats sleeping beneath a fruiting peach tree. On a fallen peach, rests two mourning cloak butterflies.

‘Number six...’ You look for the bin labelled with the number six and pull out one of the posters. After confirming that you picked the one you wanted, you grabbed your wallet and pulled out a couple bills. ‘Where should I put this?’

The few paintings you had hanging around the house were all left behind by your grandparents. The paintings, while not exactly your taste, fit the spaces well and kept the place from feeling too empty. They’re also a nice reminder of your grandparents, so you didn’t have the heart to swap them out.

‘Maybe I can put it in the spare room with all of my plushies.’

“Whoa.”

You jump at the sound of Jibril’s voice.

“Oh— sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jibril grabs you before you stumble to the ground. He lets go as soon as you steady yourself.

“I was caught up in my own thoughts. Did you need something from me?”

“No. Just wanted to let you know that Ed’s done with the painting. He’s coming over with it.”

“Did you find anything you liked, Miss?” Ed asks as he carefully brings the packed painting over to you. He was kind enough to give you some straps to make it easier to carry around.

“I decided to take this print with the cats sleeping beneath the peach tree.”

“Oh! That’s one of my favorites.” Ed grins. “Do you happen to have some feline friends?”

“I do. Three black kitties named Soot, Cinder, and Char.”

“I see, that must be why you chose that print.”

“Yes. I couldn’t help myself when I saw that there were three of them.” You hand him the cash you were holding. “Keep the change. Thank you for helping me with the painting.”

“This is far too much...!”

“It’s fine. Please accept it.”

Ed looks over at Jibril, who shakes his head.

“Just accept it. She’ll find a way to hide it in your pockets if you don’t.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jibril drops you off at the office and leaves after you hand him the leftover marmalade cake. You leave the painting against the wall, still packed up, and take a seat at your desk.

‘This situation is...weird.’

Why didn’t Ed contact the authorities if he thought he witnessed a kidnapping? Jibril was reliable when it came to things like that, but it would still make more sense to contact the police. In fact, Jibril usually tries to work with the police and other detectives before he contacts you.

He did say that the original case he contacted you for was resolved with the help of Daniel’s agency. So, did he bring this one up to you because he suspected Solstice? As unusual and eye-catching (or rather, ear-catching) the voice was, the woman was more important. She was the only actively hauling Rafayel into the car.

You sigh. Was it worth pondering over these small matters? There’s a ginormous fish to catch, and the lead is literally wrapped around your little wrist.

‘Nothing is frayed. The color is a slightly muted, but it’s not to a concerning degree…’

The bonds slither up your arm, across your palm, and around your fingers. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You know those words aren’t meant for you. They’re meant for the woman who died on the other side of the mirror.

“Soon enough. Soon enough, you’ll be reunited with her.”

You’ll make it happen one way or another. No matter the cost.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Tap.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap.

Zayne furrowed his eyebrows at the sensation of something firm yet squishy touching his cheeks. When he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with a set of glowing chartreuse orbs.

“Soot.” He thought he closed the door to his room, but it looks like the cat managed to find his way in regardless.

Tap.

Soot nudges Zayne’s face again with his paw.

“It’s only two AM.” The doctor mutters upon checking his phone.

Soot flicks his tail back and forth. A sign of impatience.

Zayne sits up. “What can I do for you?”

Soot leaps off the bed and struts over to the door. He stops and looks back at the man who’s slowly getting out of bed and slipping on his pair of slippers. Once the feline confirms that Zayne’s following him, he makes his way out of the room and down the stairs.

The light to the foyer is always on, which makes it easy for Zayne to see that your bedroom door is ajar. Soot slips into the room, opening the door even further. There’s just enough light for him to see something curled up on the floor of your room. He slowly approaches.

It’s you. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, and your purse is a couple of inches away from where you’re lying. Cinder and Char are huddled up against you, and Soot quickly joins the pile on the carpet. It’s a rather endearing cuddle pile.

‘She’s asleep.’ Judging by the way your chest was moving, Zayne determines that you’re fast asleep. He can’t see your face, as it’s tucked into the carpet, but he’s positive your eyes are sealed shut at this point.

Zayne gets on his knees to carry you to bed, but he’s quickly stopped by a tail slap to the wrist. He looks over at Soot, who’s flicking his tail again. ‘Looks like that wasn’t what he wanted.’

The doctor gets back up and walks over to the rocking chair, where there’s a couple of small blankets. He grabs and unfolds them before placing them over you. Soot, along with the others, begin purring. Jackpot.

He grabs the cushion off the chair and carefully tucks it under your head. You might wake up with a couple of body aches, but at least your neck won’t be sore.

‘…She’s freezing again.’

“Wait…” You quickly grab his retreating hand, cradling it like it’s a precious treasure of yours.

He finally catches a glimpse of your tear-streaked face. “Miss Matchmaker?”

“No… Please…” You cry. “Stop…!”

Your grasp around his hand tightens, and your breathing escalates. “Why? Why does this keep happening…”

‘A nightmare?’ Zayne places his other hand on your shoulder to shake you awake. “Miss Matchmaker, please wake up.”

You begin to gasp and choke for air. Without a second thought, Zayne immediately pulls you upright. The sudden movement causes the cats to disperse, but he pays no attention to that as he leans your body against his and begins to rub concentric circles on your back.

You sob uncontrollably into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with your hot tears. “Don’t do this, please. Don’t hurt them— please don’t hurt them.”

You curl up into his lap, as if you’re trying to shrink your entire existence into a singular speck of dust.

“Miss Matchmaker, please wake up.” Zayne attempts to wake you up again. It doesn’t work.

“Her ability causes her to fall asleep after she’s done using it. Occasionally, she can end up witnessing people’s memories. It’s not something she can control.”

Zayne recalls the information Graham told him all those nights ago. Was this a side effect of your ability? You had a work arrangement today, so it wouldn’t be unusual if you had to use your powers. How many times have you suffered through experiences that weren’t your own? Surely, you must’ve witnessed countless horrors without your consent.

‘Looks like I won’t be able to wake her up. Then, the next best thing is to try to calm her down.’

If your current condition was caused by your ability, then what you’re experiencing is probably more akin to a night terror rather than a nightmare. Then, all he can do for you is keep you safe and attempt to reassure you.

Using a calm and low voice, he whispers, “You’re safe… it’s okay. It’s just a dream.”

“Protect…them…”

“You’re in your bedroom,” he continues. “You’re safe here.”  

“Mm…”

In a few minutes, your breathing levels out and your crying stops. The only thing that remains the same is your grip around his hand. Zayne waits for a bit longer before pulling his hand away. You whimper in response, but you don’t protest.

He proceeds to carefully lift you up and carry you to bed. Once he gets the covers draped over you, your three feline companions hop back into the scene. Soot situates himself beside your head while Cinder and Char flank your shoulders.

‘They must’ve known their owner was having a hard time.’ Zayne gives each cat a quick pet before straightening his posture. Cinder and Char happily purr at the touch while Soot affectionately wraps his tail around Zayne’s wrist.

The doctor wonders how many nights you’ve endured, trapped in the misery and suffering of others, for others. He assumes that you’ve also seen many other types of memories, but he doesn’t doubt that the negative ones are the ones that cling onto you like the plague. Because while he has saved many lives as a doctor, the lives he couldn’t save are the ones that remain seared into his memories.

He wonders how much guilt you feel, witnessing these memories. While not of your own volition, it’s a risk you take every time you choose to use your sequela. Do you tell them beforehand? Or do you carry the burden alone, pretending the price isn’t something worth mentioning? Maybe you disclose different amounts of information depending on the client— that sounds like something you’d do.

So much time spent with you, yet he feels like he still knows nothing. Maybe he just needs to sit down with you and have another serious conversation, one where you can’t tell any lies or hide anything. Would making a deal with you be enough, or will he need to wait for a situation where you have no choice but to confess? That sounds rather forceful but maybe driving you into a corner is the only way to get you to reveal the truth.

Maybe he can wait a little bit longer. From his research, he hasn’t figured out a concrete way to return to his world, and the others are scattered across Regina, so he has some time.

‘I’m worried about her, but I know she’s strong enough to take care of herself.’

Miss Hunter’s smile flashes through his mind, and he can’t help but smile despite his heartache. Oh, how he misses her.

“I know. I’m trying.”

Zayne flinches at your sleep talk. There’s no way you just heard his thoughts, right?

“Mrr… puff…” Soot lets go of Zayne’s wrist.  He’s finally fallen asleep.  The doctor sighs and takes a step away from the bed.

‘That was probably a coincidence.’

Little does he know the thread of longing attached to his hand is now wrapped around your palm, mingling with Rafayel’s threads of grief and sorrow.

Love is such a terrifying and endearing thing, isn’t it?

It forms so many bonds without warning.

It causes so much suffering and pain that it ruins lives,

Yet the joy and comfort that come from it is too addicting to toss aside.

It is humanity’s greatest and worst drug.

It is humanity’s most irrational and rational answer.

It is what defines humanity itself.

Chapter Text

Your eyes are so puffy from crying that you can barely manage to open them when you wake up. It’s difficult enough that you decide not to even bother opening them. Instead, you shove your face into the feline that’s resting against your head, who instantly begins purring in response after they did their usual reboot noise (“Mrrr?”). The twins flanking you wake up from your movements and decide to nuzzle your neck and shoulders after doing a big stretch.

“Good morning, my babies,” you murmur into Soot’s side.

To be honest, you don’t remember much of your dream last night— you only have the lingering remnants of distress. You’re grateful, because remembering your dreams always leaves you feeling guilty. It’s a violation of privacy after all.

‘Still, I don’t remember getting into bed. Did someone carry me?’  Both of them should’ve been asleep by the time you came home, as it was half past midnight. ‘I hope I didn’t wake them up or anything.’

You lift your head up from Soot and take a deep breath. ‘I should start getting ready.’

You didn’t have much time to spare today. Not only did you have to get ready for the auction, but you also want to go some investigating before the event.

Soot, Cinder, and Char follow you off the bed. You pick up your discarded purse and check your phone. It’s 10 AM — meaning you didn’t oversleep too much; good.

‘For tonight, should I go for a dress? No, since I’m essentially representing Kliron Cielo, then I should go for a suit.’

Your cardinal red two-piece suit with a white dress shirt underneath would do. As for shoes, the black D’Orsay stiletto pumps with ankle straps and bow knot on the counter would pair nicely. You haven’t worn your blue sapphire teardrop earrings and festoon necklace set in a while, so why not? The gold will brighten up the red in your suit, and the deep blue offers a good contrast.

As for your perfume… you’ll have to wear Serendipity’s concoction while you’re at home, but it’s too soft for your mood today.

You stare at your perfume collection, contemplating your choices. ‘Shrike would be a good choice.’

In the bottle, Shrike is incredibly sugary and fruity, with just enough musk for you to realize it’s there. The moment it hits your skin, the pomegranate, plum, and black currant make their appearance, mingling with the red musk and vanilla; and once it dries, it becomes spicier and earthier, revealing the patchouli, rosemary, and cinnamon. A bit tart, a bit sweet, a little spicy, and cushioned by the musk— it’s a fragrance that represents soft, quiet confidence.

There’s no better perfume for an auction like this.

Before stepping into the shower, you soak a small towel with cold water and cover your eyes with it to reduce the puffiness. It’ll take some time for it to settle down completely, but this should speed things up a little. After you’re done with that, you start the shower and undress while the water warms up. Your back is turned towards the mirror, and you continue to avoid looking in the mirror, even as you’re stepping into the shower.

You wait for your skin to accumulate to the warm water before turning the temperature up. Every inch of your body is scrubbed clean once you wash your hair. You take the time to massage your nape and shoulders before washing your face with a salicylic acid foam cleanser and your hydrating cleanser. You also use salicylic acid on your back and underarms, using your washcloth to help with the process. The whole process ends up taking just over thirty minutes.

Keeping your head ducked, you turn off the water and get out of the shower. Water drips onto the bathmat as you retrieve a towel to dry your body and hair off. You take the time to brush your teeth and do your skin care before you get dressed. Hair is dried before makeup, and then it’s time for a tiny spritz of Serendipity’s perfume. For today, your last step is putting on your jewelry.

‘Oh, let’s wear that gold band. For good luck.’

Returning to the walk-in closet, you grab the gold band that sits in the right corner of your ring box and slide it on your right index finger. It’s a simple band without engravements or gems, only nicks and scratches, but that’s what makes it so lovely.

You pull Shrike off the stand and drop it into your purse before leaving your room, mostly ready to go. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, you aren’t sure anymore, neither Zayne nor Xavier are in the living room or dining room. You drop your purse on one of the dining chairs before making your way downstairs to the basement. One of the men might’ve fed your kitties already, but you wanted to check just in case.

Just as you suspected, someone already fed them. You decide to give them a few catnip treats anyways, seeing that they all followed you to their bowls. You also take the time to replenish their water bowls before returning upstairs.

“Are you already heading out?” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Zayne’s voice coming from your right.

“Al, almost,” you stutter. “I just wanted to eat something and make a couple of phone calls first.”

Zayne nods. “Okay. I’ll reheat your breakfast.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll go make the phone calls then.”

You plop down on the couch in the parlor and start making your first phone call. “Hey, Agatha. I saw your test last night but didn’t have time to send a reply. What did you want to tell me?”

“Murr and Anya agreed to take the students. Let them know that they will be receiving offer letters in the next twenty-four hours.”

“That’s great. I’ll send them a message right now.”

“Another thing.”

“Yes?”

“You aren’t planning on doing anything ridiculous, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I got chills just before your call came through. Usually that’s a sign that you’re going to do something nonsensical within the day.”

‘Since when did she develop a sixth sense for my nonsense?’

You cross your legs. “I don’t plan on it.”

“So there’s a chance you will.”

“There is a possibility, yes. It’ll depend on the idiots around me.”

“…I have a bad feeling about this.”

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time I trusted you?”

You hiss, “Well, you know… that was an extenuating circumstance.”

“That was no reason to almost die. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

“You don’t need to do anything, Miss Miller. If you can’t have faith in me, then you should have faith in the people around me.”

“Haha, right. Like they’re any better than you. So, what are you doing?”  

“Attending an event that’s going to be full of snobbish, rich idiots.” Ryan Geier’s auction isn’t the only one tonight, so she probably thinks you’re going to one of the other ones, seeing how much effort she put into trying to get a ticket.

“Sounds fun. Bring back a souvenir.”

“Sure. I’ll see what I can swipe for you.”

“I’m looking to expand the museum’s jewelry collection, so if you see some historic pieces floating around, grab it. I’ll pay you back plus an extra ten percent.”

‘Does the Pocket Watch of Guilfoyle count as jewelry?’ You plan on handing the watch over to Agatha if it isn’t what you’re looking for. That is, if you’re able to get it at all. You had money, but you aren’t the richest person in Regina. If someone like the Alagas or Norine Ainsworth is in attendance, you won’t be able to do anything against them. They’re simply too rich. ‘The top 0.5%’ people say.

“I’ll try my best. Don’t have high hopes.”

“I won’t. Not after last time.”

You affectionately roll your eyes. “Okay, okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye. Talk to you later.”

You end the call.  ‘Oh, right. Let me request a taxi first.’

Cabbage is your preferred app for on-demand transportation. While there are independent drivers, there’s also company-trained drivers. The company-trained ones are generally more reliable, though their fares are more expensive. But the reason why you prefer the company-trained ones is because the cars have dividers that have a ‘soundproofing’ function. It lets you do work while you’re commuting.

‘Okay, they’ll be here in half an hour. That’ll be enough time.’

You make your second phone call.

“Good morning, Pluma’s Risti division, this is Patrick. How may I help you today?”

“I would like to speak with Livia. Please let them know the Matchmaker is looking for them.”

“I will transfer you right away.”

“Thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds for someone else to pick up. “Hello, this is Sam of the Livia Team. What can we do for you today, Matchmaker?” This greeting, while polite, is colder.

“I would like to borrow a few birds for the night, if I could.”

“We can make arrangements. How many are you looking for?”

“Six.”

“Six?” Sam repeats for clarification

“Yes.”

“Do you have any specific birds in mind?”

“I don’t, but I intend to use them for tracking and monitoring. It would be good if they’re quick on their feet or strong enough to defend themselves.”

“I will formulate a team for you with those aspects in mind.”

“Would it be possible for me to meet the team at Vaut’s Domain at around… nine to nine-thirty in the evening?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you.”

“You may already be aware, but our commission prices vary depending on the length you intend to use our services.”

“Yes. I was hoping to commission the team for about a month. If I recall, there’s also a location fee. I’m not quite sure where my targets are, but I’m under the assumption that they are still in Regina.”

“In that case, would you like us to continue pursuing them, if they happen to be outside of the city limits?”

“Yes.”

‘I only found Rafayel by chance. I need to figure out the whereabouts of the other two before I make any more moves.’

You sort out the commission fee with Sam, which doesn’t take too long. The price is steep, but Livia’s birds are reliable. They’re also very, very resilient to manipulation, thanks to Seraph’s sequela and his training regimen for all Vice members. You can trust them.

Zayne is bringing the reheated breakfast back to the dining table as you leave the parlor. Your expression visibly brightens at the sight of the jianbing and steamed eggs.  He also provided you with a small bowl of rice, which was left over from last night’s dinner.

“Thank you for reheating the food. That saved a bit of time for me.” Honestly speaking, you weren’t even going to reheat anything and just shovel down your throat.

Zayne watches you as you take a seat at the table. “You have a busy day today, so it’s best if you start the day off with a hot breakfast. I can prepare a thermos of coffee for you, if you’d like.”

“Ah, that sounds like a good idea. I’m probably going to need it.”

“Mm. I’ll get it ready.”

You end up rushing out the door after scrambling to get your heels on, with the thermos of hot coffee and your purse in hand. “Thank you! Have a good day, and text me if you need anything!”

‘It’s like she never experienced that night terror at all.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Red is such a wonderful color. It symbolizes so many things: love, passion, courage, violence—and you’re seeing so much of it right now. The marble walls, stone pavement, the perfectly trimmed hedges...everything in your line of sight is red. Maybe it’s because a blood vessel in your eye popped or something. After all, you can feel your heart beating against your eardrums and against your chest. It feels like it’s seconds away from breaking through your sternum, so it wouldn’t be too strange if a few capillaries burst.

‘Ryan, oh Ryan, since when did you fall so far into the deep end that you started trafficking people? No, I suppose that doesn’t matter.’

You stare at the dozens of threads that guided you to Sapphira’s Auction House. It’s no wonder Egan wasn’t fond of this ‘art connoisseur,’ or whatever he calls himself. He’s done something similar in the past, likely before Seraph took over Vice. What gave him the audacity to pull this stunt now, you don’t know, and honestly, you can’t find it in yourself to care. The important part is that he needs to be punished, and you are going to take an active role in it. It won’t do if you aren’t.

Locking him up in a cage just isn’t enough.

You aren’t going to make the same mistake again. Just leaving it to other people was a grave mistake.

Pressing your lips against the ring on your right index finger, you make a silent apology to its original owner. ‘I’m sorry. Even if I don’t intend on breaking the oath, I know you deserve an apology from this hotheaded apprentice of yours. But there’s no need to lecture me now. I'll listen to all your grievances at the peach tree.’

For now, you need to concentrate on taking care of this scum that you’ve turned a blind eye on for far too long.

A deep breath later, you’re making a phone call to your bodyguard of the evening.

Koven yawns as she answers the call, “Something you needed, Matchmaker?”

“Ah, Koven? There’s been a change of plans,” you inform her with great pleasure. “I don’t want to go to the auction anymore.”

“You’re cancelling?” She deadpans.

“Oh no. I wouldn’t disturb your rest for something as simple as a cancellation.”

“Hmm... then what?”

You start walking down the sidewalk towards Vaut’s Domain. With the sweetest smile you’ve ever shown to the world, “I wanted to move my appointment up so we could have a bit more fun together.”

“What are you planning?”

“Come to Sapphira’s in two hours with your lovely pets. There’s some persuasion I’m looking to do.”

“Hahaha!” Koven breaks out into a fit of laughter. “I see, I see.  You want to play one of those games today. Great! It’s not often that I get to see you rip that mask off your face.”

“Then, I’ll see you in two hours?”

“You bet.”

‘That’s one stone set in place. Now, for the other…’

It only takes one ring for your call to pick up. “Thank you for calling Volent, this is Cináed. How may I be of service today?”

“Good afternoon, Cináed. This is Vlinder. I was hoping to rent the Galis jewelry set from you.”

“Certainly. Will you be picking it up or would you like us to deliver the set to you?”

“I’ll be at the store in ten minutes.”

“I will have it prepared right away.”

“Thank you.”

“It is a pleasure to be able to serve you today.”

Volent is a jewelry store located on the third floor of Vaut’s Domain, which the largest casino in Regina. Originally, the casino was a gambling den restricted to only the strongest caudiosi, but as times have changed, it’s turned into a mixing pot of civilians and underworlders alike. Now, they welcome all who seek thrill and entertainment.

That isn’t to say they’ve forgotten their roots. Once owned by the extinct Priolet Clan, Vaut’s Domain is currently in the hands of the Alaga Yeveia, one of the allies of the Acierno Yeveia. Valencia, Cielo’s mother, was a member of the Alagas before she married Alessio, Cielo’s father and the current head of the Aciernos. Because of this, there are places where civilians are not permitted entry. The third floor is one such area. Attempting to enter the third floor without the proper identifications leads to an immediate and permanent ban to the establishment. This, of course, is to maintain the social boundary of Reginia.

Your ability to access the third floor is special. Most verti aren’t permitted entry, but as the Matchmaker, you spend a good amount of time working with the caudiosi, this special treatment is more an act of convenience than anything else. You aren’t complaining by any means, since this gives you access to tools most people could only dream of having in the arsenal— like the jewelry set you’re going to pick up in a few minutes.

“Have a pleasant time,” the security guard says as he returns your ID and player’s card to you.

“I hope the rest of your shift goes well.” You smile and walk towards the staircase around the corner. You scan your card, which unlocks the door, and start making your way up to the third floor.

The third floor, while notably quieter, always has the scent of gunpowder and iron lingering in the air. It’s not something cleaner and deodorizing spray can fix. Violence is steeped into the walls, and that will likely never change, not unless you want to flip Regina on its head.

A gentleman with a dull complexion awaits you at the front counter of Volent. His eyes flicker upwards as he hears you approaching. His lips tug upwards into an elegant smile as he greets you, “Welcome to Volent, Vlinder.”

“Good afternoon, Cináed. I hope my request wasn’t too abrupt.”

Cináed shakes his head as he unlocks the black box on the counter and opens it. He turns it around and slides it towards you, presenting the demi-parure you requested. “Not at all. It is always a pleasure to assist you.”

The Galis demi-parure you requested consists of a lavalier necklace and drop earrings made of blue opals, black pearls, and white diamonds. As elegant as it is, you didn’t request this because you had a change of heart in your jewelry choice.

The reason you wanted this specific set is because it has a very interesting quirk.

You reach behind your neck and unclasp your necklace. Cináed immediately procures another black velvet case for you to place the accessory into. He patiently waits for you to take your earrings off and place them into the case before he moves to close it.

“The collateral has been accepted.”

“If everything goes well, I should be back tomorrow to return Galis to you,” you tell him in a soft voice.

“I will be happily awaiting your return.” He lowers himself into a small bow. “May the jewels bless you.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

What is there to do when the one and only Matchmaker makes her way to your doorstep? In Ryan’s case, he can only welcome her in with a sheepish smile.

“Welcome, Miss Matchmaker. First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my secretary’s actions— I’ve always refused to meet people without appointments. You, of course, are an exception.”

His attempt at flattery only serves to tick you off, but you control your facial expression with an iron will. “That’s completely understandable. There’s nothing I despise more than people who disrupt my agenda with their inflated egos. Had this not been a last-minute arrangement made by my client, I would’ve contacted you beforehand.”

“It looks like we are very similar.”

‘Hah.’ You mentally scoff at his response. “They say great minds think alike.”

“Indeed.” He brings his hands together and shifts in his seat. “Going back to what you were saying— you’re here because of a last-minute arrangement from a client?”  

“That’s correct. Due to some urgent business, they’re unable to attend your auction tonight,” you explain with feigned regret. “So, they enlisted my assistance. As the Matchmaker, you know that it’s my job to fulfill my client’s requests to the best of my abilities.”

You look over your shoulder at Koven, who’s obediently standing behind the sofa. She hands you the black velvet case. You place the box on the table.

“My client wants to win both of the special lots.”

“I see…”

You chuckle at his obvious confusion. Despite working as a businessman for so many years, he still wears his heart on his damn sleeve. What a joke. “I was hoping to make a trade with you.”

“A trade?”

“Yes, a trade.” You finally open the velvet case and reveal its contents.

Ryan’s eyes nearly bulge out of his skull once he sees the Galis necklace and earrings. “Don’t tell me, this is…!”

“The Galis set.”

“Was this not lost at sea? How did you manage to obtain such a priceless artifact!”

“My client was the one who provided me with the set. I am unsure how it got in their possession, but I have confirmed its authenticity with Volent’s gemologist.”

‘Then, this must be the real thing…!’ Ryan’s body starts jittering with excitement. ‘After a long decade of searching…! It’s finally…!’

You deftly pull the jewelry set away the moment Ryan attempts to touch the accessories. “Apologizes, but unless you agree to the trade, I cannot let you touch anything. That is also a part of my client’s request.”

Ryan gulps, his eyes flickering between your face and the Galis set. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to agree to the deal. It looks like he’s hesitating because he’s wary of you, which means he isn’t completely brainless.

‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Had it been anyone else, I would’ve agreed to the deal immediately.’ Ryan bites the inside of his cheek. ‘But it’s Egan’s student. They weren’t tolerant towards traffickers and smugglers, it’s likely that she won’t hesitate to report me if she sees what’s in the second special lot.’

At the end of the day, you’re the Matchmaker, and your mentor was the one who held a grudge against him. He can’t just bite the bullet. Not yet.

Sensing that his rationality is winning, you throw in another tidbit. “If you allow me to win both special lots, I’ll personally prepare something else for you as a gift of gratuity.”

He leans forward. “And… what may that be?”

“That depends on your enthusiasm and performance.” You cross your legs and lean back in your seat. “But let’s see…” You drag your sentences out, tugging at your opponent’s anticipation. “Perhaps a bottle of Lieven wine or a Canary House music box. I could even procure one of Fiordispina’s healing elixirs.”

His back straightens and his pupils dilate at the words ‘Fiordispina’s healing elixirs.’

It’s nearly impossible to obtain one healing elixir, but if there’s one thing you can’t doubt about the Matchmaker, it’s the connections they have. You aren’t planning to go through the lengths of obtaining any of these items for Ryan, but what’s a bit more trickery to sweeten the deal? This whole thing is a lie to begin with.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a difficult decision to make on the spot.” You close the jewelry case and hand it back to Koven. “I’ll be attending the auction. If you choose to agree to the trade, then tell your people to provide me with the number six paddle. Otherwise, this deal will be void.”

‘Oh, good.’ Ryan sighs in relief. “Thank you for your leniency. I will make sure to provide you with an answer at the auction.”

“I look forward to your response.” With that, you stand up from your seat.

“Oh, please allow me to show you to the door.” Ryan scrambles up from his own seat.

You bring your hand up to your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Sure.”

Koven remains a diligent half step behind you as Ryan guides the two of you to out of his office. She’s just tall enough to glance over your shoulder and examine the catharsis witch moth resting between the collar of your dress shirt. It resembles an ornamental clasp you’d have for a bolo necktie, but it’s actually one of Koven’s pet moths.

The corner of Koven’s lip twitches.  ‘You really filled up another one.’

She’s genuinely impressed by the amount of anger you have. This is the second one she’s given you in the past thirty minutes. ‘At this rate, I’ll run out of moths before the auction begins.’

You’ll end up using all forty catharsis witches. She glances over at Ryan, who’s trying his hardest to keep the small talk going with you. ‘Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming for him.’

“Ah, right. I was wondering how your mentor was doing. I haven’t seen them around for a while,” Ryan inquires.

The moth against your chest twitches. “At Amsden, there can only be one Matchmaker at a time.”

“Oh, then they retired?”

“Retired? I suppose you can say that.” You bring your hand up to your neck. “If that’s what you want to call someone who’s returned to the earth.”

The temperature in the room drops significantly. Ryan averts his gaze. “Oh, I’m very sorry. That was quite discourteous of me. I wasn’t aware.”

“That person made many enemies over the course of their life. They were bound to pay, one way or another.” Your tone of voice is completely noncommittal, making it impossible to gauge how you felt about your mentor’s death. You’re quick the change the topic. “Once again, thank you for your time. I’ll see you at the auction.”

“Ah, yes. I will make sure this event meets your expectations!”

You walk out the door with a heavier storm brewing in your chest.

Once the door closes, Ryan looks over to his secretary, who walked out from a hidden door. “What did you think?”

“It sounds too good to be true,” the secretary admits. “However, there have also been rumors that the current Matchmaker wasn’t particularly fond of her predecessor.”

Ryan sighs, “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t hold the same values as them.”

“Would you like me to do a quick investigation on her?”

“No. That’ll cause unwanted attention. A lot of the big guns keep an eye on her in order to ensure her safety.”

“Then…”

“Look into the woman that was with her today. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to figure out who the Matchmaker’s client is. I doubt she would take on a request of someone who has different morals than her.”

“I will go that right away.”

Ryan dismisses his secretary with a quick flick of his wrist. ‘I want those jewels. I really, really want those jewels.’

He can’t stop thinking about that gorgeous opal. It’s as if he’s been possessed by its beauty.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Xavier answers the door upon Zayne’s request, which leads him into encountering a person dressed in a dark taupe suit and a fedora. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Cielo Acierno, one of the Matchmaker’s acquaintances. You must be one of her guests,” the young adult gracefully introduces themselves.

‘Two guns.’ While it’s completely concealed by their suit, Xavier can tell they’re armed. This Cielo isn’t some normal acquaintance.

He frowns. “Is there something you need?”

“I was hoping to speak with the Matchmaker. I tried calling her earlier, but she didn’t answer.”

“She left a couple of hours ago.”

Cielo blinks. “Oh, really? But the event she’s going to doesn’t start until the evening. Did she happen to tell you where she was going?”

“No.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Is there a reason you wanted to know?”  

“Well, my subordinate that was supposed to escort her to the event left without a word. It’s not necessarily unusual for her to do that, but she’s never usually awake this early in the day. I thought I’d try contacting the Matchmaker to see if there was a change of plans or something.”

“If you are concerned about your subordinate, wouldn’t it be better to contact them?”

“Koven generally does things at her own pace. She won’t bother to look at her phone.” Cielo elaborates. “I also wanted to contact the Matchmaker to see if she needed anything since she’s attending the event in my place.”

“Have you tried her office?”

“I just came from her office— she wasn’t there.”

“Are there any other places she could be at?”

Cielo shrugs their shoulders. “The possibilities are endless with her. I’ll have to ask a few friends—”

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

“Excuse me.” Cielo pulls out their phone and takes the call. “I’m surprised you checked your phone, Koven.”

They take a couple steps away from the door.

“...Tailing… Shook them off…Matchmaker…” Xavier only manages to pick up a couple words.

“Is that so? Looks like Ryan’s learned something from his last encounter with us. It’s a good thing you’re still a freelancer on your papers.”

“…to do?”

“Well, the only thing to do is to lead them down the wrong path. Take them to Asterisk. Ryan shouldn’t know that we’ve taken control of that club.”

“…the Matchmaker…”

“Let her do what she wants, but yes, make sure she doesn’t cross the line. We can’t have her lose any more of her light.”  

“…”

“Of course. I’ll even ask the Lieutenant to play with you.”

“…”

Cielo pulls the phone away from their ear and ends the call. “Sorry about that,” they say as they turn back around to face Xavier.

“That was the subordinate that’s supposed to escort the Matchmaker.”

“Yes; it looks like the Matchmaker asked Koven to meet up at an earlier time to help her with a few errands.”

“Hmm…”

“Thanks for your help. I’ll excuse myself here.”

Xavier silently watches as Cielo makes their way back to their car. ‘What was that all about?’

He’s a bit unsettled by what just occurred. Was Cielo genuinely concerned about you, and it was a coincidence that Koven called them, or was this all a ploy to catch his attention? If it’s the latter, then you and whoever you’re working with underestimated him. If it’s the former, then…

‘That person mentioned that you were going to an event in their place…’

It takes him a second, but he recalls the conversation you had with that young man at the museum.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything about it gaining sentience. But…on Ryan Geier’s auction list, there’s two mystery items. Originally, there was only one ‘special item,’ but that changed two days ago. There’s no information about the second mystery item, but the first one is rumored to be the Pocket Watch of Guilfoyle. The Director tried fighting for a ticket, but she couldn’t get her hands on one. I think she ended up learning that one of her acquaintances got tickets, and she ended up paying a hefty price to get them to look out for the special item… Matchmaker?”  

“I met up with that acquaintance earlier today, and they gave me their tickets.”

“For your sake, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear a thing you just said.”

‘That man also mentioned a Ryan. Ryan… Greer? Guard’ Whatever the man’s name is, he’s hosting an auction.  Xavier does a quick search on his phone.

[Populating results for: Ryan Geier’s Auctions]

He clicks on the ‘Official Ryan Geier Auctions,’ and the first thing he sees is information regarding the Marine Treasures Auction.

‘Tonight at eleven PM. This is most likely the auction she’s attending.’

“Xavier?” Zayne calls out to the blond as he approaches the foyer through the parlor. Xavier looks up at the doctor. “Who was at the door?”

“Someone named Cielo,” he responds as he shuts the door.

“Cielo… oh, one of the Matchmaker’s acquaintances. Did they need anything?”

“They were looking for the Matchmaker. Everything’s fine. But, you know them?” Xavier raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I met them when we went to pick you up from the Vice headquarters. Did something happen?”

“No. But I’m going to go out later this evening.”  

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You happily hum to yourself as you wait for the auction to begin, flipping the number six paddle around and around to release some of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Koven discreetly examines the surroundings, making sure to take note of anything unusual or suspicious. Her attention lingers on the back of the auditorium. She doesn’t sense any hostility, but she can feel that someone is looking in her general direction, which means they’re probably watching you.

You don’t notice it though, so she relaxes a bit and returns her attention towards the stage.

“Is there anything you wanted, Koven?” You ask, mostly to kill some time.

Koven takes the catalogue and browses through it before answering, “Nope. Half of the stuff sounds like trash and the other half sounds like a junk. How about you? Anything caught your eye, aside from the special items or whatever?”

“No, not really.”

The lots were mostly comprised of rare sea materials, paintings, some marine-inspired accessories, ship models, and the like. The only thing that briefly caught your interest was the anatomically accurate glass models of nudibranchs crafted by the Featherstone Company. They’re quite adorable— specially the leaf sheep and sea bunny— but they aren’t worth it; not when that money’s going to Ryan Geier.

“Matchmaker?” Koven whispers your name as you slump down in your seat.

“I’m a bit tired,” you muttered. “So I’m just going to close my eyes for a while.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for the special lots.”

“I appreciate it.”

It doesn’t take long for you to succumb into the hands of slumber.

Koven places your head against her shoulder. She’s not surprised you’re exhausted. You actually managed to feed all forty of the catharsis witch moths before the auction started. Most people grow exhausted after the second or third one. Even superators she’s used it on haven’t been able to handle more than a dozen or so. The only reason why she brought so many was because she planned to have some of them absorb the inevitable fear that would erupt once the real show started.

She idly taps her finger against the velvet box containing the Galis demi-parure. ‘If he’s smart, then he should’ve prepared some safeguards.’

Agreeing to something and lowering your guard are two separate issues. Plus, it’s not unusual for people to pretend that they’re willing to make a deal until the very last second. Koven’s used that tactic on multiple occasions.

‘If he tries to hurt her, I’ll cut him down.’ She might end up getting in a bit of trouble, but that’s okay. She can afford to get in trouble for a little manslaughter. Plus, it’s been a while since she’s sunk her fangs into a living human. It would honestly be a good refresher.

Really, he’s doomed regardless of what he does. The moment you decided to direct your wrath at him, he lost.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Thank you, esteemed guests! We have officially sold off all of the normal lots! Now, we will be moving on to the true stars of the show!” The auctioneer announces with great vigor. It’s enough to rouse you from your sleep.

“Just in time,” Koven says as you lift your head up from her shoulder. “Feeling better?”

You yawn, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Before we begin the auctioning process for the special lots, Mister Geier has a few words for the crowd. If you would please come up to the stage, Sir.”

Everyone waits with bated breaths as Ryan makes his way to the podium. He’s dressed in a flamboyant pink suit, and that’s when you feel a slight pang of regret in your clothing choice of the day.

‘Our clothes complement each other… how terrible. Did he do that on purpose…?’

There’s no way, right? You did tell him that the quality of his ‘thank you’ gift depended on his enthusiasm and performance, but you didn’t mean it like that.

‘That better be a coincidence.’ You cross your arms.

“First things first, I would like to extend my gratitude to everyone who came to tonight’s auction. It pleases me greatly to see so many people who are interested in what I’ve collected over the years. It’s because of your enthusiasm and passion that I decided to part with a couple of my most precious items in my collection. I spent many days mulling over this decision, but ultimately decided that it would best to give someone else the chance to add these treasures into their own collections.”

Ryan’s speech is grand, but it honestly sounds like gibberish and lies to you.

“To whoever wins these lots, I hope you will appreciate them just as much as I do.”

Ryan’s gaze undoubtedly falls on you. Since you’re sitting near the front of the auditorium, you offer him an ambiguous smile.

“Now, back to Corey.”

“Thank you for your wonderful speech, Mister Geier.” The auctioneer returns to the podium. “Now, let us begin with the first special lot.”

A staff member rolls a cart containing a box covered with a sheet of velvet cloth onto stage.

“Crafted just under five hundred years ago in the Zadigian Era, this item has been in the hands of many. It’s first owner was the powerful Duke Martin of Caledonia. It was passed down as one of the heirlooms of the family until its demise, where it went missing for nearly a century, before it was rediscovered with the help of Simeon, the first Matchmaker…”

‘ Damn it.’

It’s not the Watch of Guilfoyle. It’s something entirely different, and it’s a replica.

“I present you, the Caledonia’s Eternal Flame!”

Caledonia’s Eternal Flame is a brooch made of diluculite, a gemstone known for its flame-like iridescence. It shares the same hardness as diamond, and was originally thought to be variation of diamond. Later on, it was discovered to be a living organism with rock-like properties. Diluculite can only be found in specific regions of Eider, most of which are protected.

But the main reason why you know it’s a replica is because that brooch is in Devon’s possession. It was placed in their care by their predecessor, who went through great lengths of retrieving it. You can’t imagine Devon willingly parting with it.

‘I don’t even know why it’s being sold off in a sea-themed auction. It has no correlation with the marine life…’

Replica or not, you need to bid on it. It would be strange if you didn’t, seeing that you were here on the behalf of a mysterious client.

Koven looks over at you. “How much would you like to bid, my lady?”

It’s not unusual for proxies to be used at these auctions, so the attendees are given some time before they’re required to place a bid.

“I’m going to wait a see for this one.”

This item wasn’t the important one, and you didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s fun.

“Let the bidding begin!” Corey declares a couple minutes later. “Bids will begin at one thousand.”

“One thousand five hundred!”

“One thousand five hundred, one thousand five hundred. Do I have a one thousand seventy-five hundred?”

“Two thousand!”

“Three thousand!”

“Oh! Three thousand, three thousand, can I have a three thousand five hundred?”

The price quickly hikes up, quickly reaching 500,000. After that, the pace slows down significantly, but it still increases at a steady rate.

“Thank you, sir! We got seven hundred thousand, seven hundred thousand! Can we get it up to seven hundred ten thousand?”

You raise your paddle and declare, “One million.”

“One million! We got one million! Is anyone willing to go one million one thousand?!”

The room is dead silent. Corey waits a few seconds before lowering the mallet. “Sold! Caledonia’s Eternal Flame has been sold for One Million!”

He notes down your pallet number.

“Thank you to all the participants. Please give us a few minutes to prepare the second special lot.”

Curious murmurs ripple through the audience as mechanical noises reverberate through the auction hall. Your sequela instinctively activates as the stage lift brings up a tall tank from beneath the stage. Once again, the contents are obscured by a thick sheet of cloth, but you don’t need to see what’s inside to know what it is.

The fury that settled down slightly reignites inside your chest with vigor.

“The second special lot is truly one of a kind…”

The armrest creaks beneath your hand. You can’t even pay attention to what the auctioneer is saying. If you do, you might end up breaking his jaw in an outburst of blind rage.

Koven has to physically restrain you when the cloth is pulled off the tank.

‘How dare they treat you like this!’

Your organs twist and churn at the state Rafayel’s in. Even from a distance, you can see his injuries— the torn off and discolored scales from his tail, the redness beneath the chains that restrain him. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are stuck in a permanent frown. Pearls fill the lower half of the tank, and the water itself is discolored.

“My precious sea god.”

You lower your head. It’s at this moment that you regret ever bringing them to this world.

Your shoulders tremble with unrestrained sorrow and pain.

“Bidding will begin at one hundred thousand—”

“Ten billion.”

Corey can’t conceal his shock. “Uh..?”

“I said ten billion,” you repeat, your voice even lower and colder than before. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You blew out the competition in an instant.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Ahaha…” Ryan laughs sheepishly. Sweat is practically pouring down his back. ‘She’s upset.’

Your demeanor was icy, and you didn’t even bother to acknowledge him when he stepped into the private lounge. All you’re doing is tapping your foot at a slow, rhythmic pace, much like a metronome.

“Um…” Since it’s just the two of you in the room, and you seem uninterested in initiating anything, he has no choice but to make a move.

“I’m disappointed.”

Ryan flinches.

“To think you’d sell a damaged specimen.”

Shivers run down his spine.

“You’re lucky my client isn’t here.”

Gray tendrils stretch out from beneath low table and wrap around his legs.

“They would’ve shot you dead, you know?”

He digs his fingernails into his knees.

“Hey.”

His whole body seizes up.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you, Mister Geier. Surely, the least you can do is maintain eye contact while we speak. Otherwise, I’ll have to add your inability to hold a discussion to your growing list of incompetencies.”

Something invisible slides up his neck and around his face, forcing his head upwards. Ryan’s heart jumps into his throat at the dozens of moths fluttering around you, watching him.

“Good. At least there’s some common decency left in the empty noggin of yours.”

Each inhale Ryan makes is choked— like someone’s pressing their heel against his adam’s apple— he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. His vision swims as the air around him grows agonizingly thick.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Ryan squeals and thrashes as the moths approach him. One by one, they land on his body, latching directly onto his nerves.

“This is the price for coveting cursed jewels.”

Amidst the chaos, he finally sees them: the accessories around your neck and hanging from your ears. The blue opal glistens and shimmers as you fiddle with the necklace chain.

“One of the eight heirlooms of the extinct Estienne Royal Family, the Galis demi-parure was cursed to inflict everlasting misfortune upon those who desired it. This was done to punish lowly thieves, as these pieces were the most eye-catching of the heirlooms.”

He reels backwards as you stand up. You pay no attention to his suffering as you make your way around the table. Ryan subconsciously pushes himself deeper and deeper into the sofa as you stop in front of him. Your presence towers over him in a way that’s almost inhuman.

You lean over and place your hands against the back of the sofa, trapping Ryan both physically and mentally.

“I— I…” Garble spills out of his mouth, like he’s desperately trying to beg for your mercy.

You reach over and pluck one of the moths latched onto his pink suit. The insect immediately melts into a pile of gray goop.

“ARGH!” He screams as soon as the fluid touches his face. “No, NO! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!”

“Why? You brought this upon yourself.”

“I don’t— I don’t want it! I don’t need it, so please! Please save me, please!”

“Save you?” You sneer. “From a punishment you deserve? I think not. In fact…”

“It was my choice to do this to you.” You grab another moth. “From the beginning…there was only me.”

Another pitiful scream rips through Ryan’s throat.

“I needed to punish you for treating someone’s life as a mere commodity. But don’t worry, you won’t die.”

Your words cut through the tension and pain like a blade, sharp and deliberate. Ryan’s body tenses up as he hears them— he wouldn’t die? The storm in his mind calms. It’ll be fine, he just needs to get through this…

No.

His stomach twists up into a knot as dread quickly replaces the relief. ‘Don’t tell me…’

“That’s right. I’m going to do what my mentor couldn’t— throw you into the jaws of the guard dogs.”

Ryan’s eyes roll back and his head lolls to the side. He finally blacked out from the pressure.

You straighten your posture and unbutton the first button of your dress shirt. A sigh of relief escapes through your lips.

“Koven is taking a while. Did something happen?” You mutter. You had her go “pack up the merchandise” with Ryan’s secretary and Corey the auctioneer.

Checking your phone, you see it’s been roughly half an hour since you sent her off.

“Guess I’ll go see what’s going on.”

Just as you reach the door, you hear the sound of metal hitting metal.

“…Koven?”

“Ah, milady? Don’t open the door, there’s — tch!”

‘She’s being overpowered?’

Something, or someone gets slammed into a wall.

“Bastard— I thought you were some nosy civilian, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, hm?”

“…Get out of the way.”

You shudder. That voice. ‘Why is Xavier here?’

How did he get in? Actually, when did he get in? Did he see Rafayel? Did he see you?

You run back to the couch and start rummaging through your purse. The perfume. You need Serendipity’s perfume!

Using one of your emergency makeup wipes, you frantically rub your neck and wrist areas before dousing yourself with the travel size perfume Caesar handed you a while back.

“Koven! Don’t hurt him!” You shout as you swing the door open.

The one who’s on the ground isn’t Xavier, but Koven. The two of them pause and turn their attention towards you. The first thing they notice is the rapid fall and rise of your chest as you breathe, then they see your concern-riddled face.

‘It’s really Xavier.’ You run up to your guest and temporary escort.

Xavier watches you with a strange expression.

“Xavier, please get off Koven. She’s acting as my bodyguard,” you request in a soft voice.

He pulls his sword away from Koven’s neck and takes a step back, giving Koven the space to recollect herself.

“Who is this?” Koven asks.

“Xavier. He’s one of my guests.”

“Your guest? So he is a civilian. What a shame.”

You ignore your bodyguard’s comment and take a step closer to Xavier. “I don’t know how or when you got here, but you could’ve gotten hurt if someone saw you wandering around in the wrong place.”

“I can fend for myself,” he responds.

You absentmindedly reach up and readjust the collar of his dress shirt. “I’m well aware, but still…”

Just because he’s strong, it doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt. You doubt your heart could take it if he also got hurt.

Koven snaps her fingers. “Oh right, Milady.”

“Yes?”

“They’ve loaded everything into the car. We can leave whenever you want.”

You nod. “Then let’s head out right away.”

“Aight, but what did you want to do with Mr. Pink Suit?”

“I already called someone to take care of him.” He had the nerve to make you wait for him, so you notified Vice of the situation.

“Thorough as always.”

Had you been thorough, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

“I’m only doing what needs to be done. Now, let’s go. Your friend has been waiting long enough.”

Koven and Xavier flank you as you walk down the hallway towards the back entrance of the auction house.

“It sounded like you did a number on Ryan,” Koven says as she cracks her knuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such pathetic screams.”

“I didn’t do much. He suffered under your moths’ illusions and Galis’ curse.”  

The catharsis witch moth, or Ascalapha odorata x Thysania agrippina, doesn’t actually cause physical harm. Instead, it absorbs the emotions of someone and uses those emotions to create illusions. Anger usually creates illusions of being burned or otherwise destroyed by heat or fire. The more emotionally unstable, the greater the reaction, so you also messed with Ryan’s fear and anxiety bonds to create an even greater reaction.

The moths die right after inflicting the illusions but as long as you notice them and don’t realize you’re seeing illusions, you’ll be trapped under their spell.

“No, no, my moths are only as scary as the person they feed from. You must’ve been quite furious about him hurting one of your people.”

“Or he was simply weak-willed…” You cough.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You slide your hand in your suit jacket and lick your lips. “My throat’s just a bit dry.”

“I got some water in the car. Take it.”

“Thanks.”

“…Did you know?” Xavier enters the conversation with a quiet question.

You keep your eyes forward. “That Rafayel was here?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I found out earlier this afternoon,” you confess. “I wouldn’t have waited otherwise.”

You scoff at yourself. “You can blame me for this. I should’ve been more cautious. I just assumed that you and the others would’ve been fine after I gave you the bare minimum.”

Koven opens the door and holds it open for you and Xavier. Parked just outside the door, is an inconspicuous black SUV. The auctioneer and Ryan’s secretary look up from the tablet that the auctioneer is holding. The secretary’s eyes flick towards the jewelry you’re wearing.

“Is there something the matter?” You ask, your voice returning to its cold tone you’ve been using all night.

“N-nope! Not at all! Please have a good night!” Corey scuttles away, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“I would like to ask a question, if I may.” The secretary remains calm as he states his business.

“Go ahead.”

“If you had the potential to become a god, would you?”

‘There it is again. This unsavory feeling.’ Your left eye twitches. “No.”

The secretary closes his eyes. “I see. Thank you for answering my question. I will excuse myself here.”

As soon as Ryan’s secretary is out of sight, Koven looks over at you. “What was that about?”

“…No clue,” you respond as you walk up to the car and open the backseat door, where you see that the seats have been put down to make up for Rafayel’s size. “Koven, you’re driving. Xavier, take the passenger seat.”

You’re small enough to sit on the floor.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Zayne steps off the front porch as he sees a black SUV pulling into the driveway. You called him to inform him of the situation and to ask him to fill the bath in the master bathroom. Since Rafayel’s stuck being a mermaid, you figured he’d feel more comfortable in water.

The cardiac surgeon opens the trunk and, with the help of Xavier, carefully retrieves Rafayel from the car. It ends up taking both of them to carry the mermaid inside, since his tail’s so long. You push the back seats up before getting out of the car.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Koven comments as you slide out of the car. She hands you the box containing the brooch replica.

“It was the least I could do. Thanks for taking us home.”

Koven reaches out of the car window and flicks your forehead. “Next time, let me watch your show to the very end. I missed out on the best part!”

You laugh, “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind, but please don’t jinx me. I’m not very fond of being angry.”

“Aight. Well, I better get going. I gotta feed my moths.”

“Stay safe.”

Koven huffs. “Will do.”

You wait for Koven to pull out of the driveway before heading inside. Your vision blurs as you bend down to take your shoes off, forcing you to reach over and grab the wall. ‘I can’t fall asleep, not yet.’

You need to make sure Rafayel is okay.  

Resisting the urge to pass out, you yank your heels off and take your jewelry off. It’s best to keep it concealed, even if there’s no one in the vicinity who desires it. Really, you should’ve put it back in the box as soon as you were done.

Once the Galis jewelry set is back in its box, you shove it back in your bag, along with the box containing the brooch, and make your way to your bedroom. You toss your purse on the rocking chair and enter the bathroom, where Zayne and Xavier are.

“How is he?” You inquire, leaning against the sink counter for support.

“I’m not familiar with mermaid anatomy, so I can’t say much, but it’ll probably take some time for his injuries to recover,” Zayne replies.

An idea clicks in your head. “I’ll grab the pills Fiordispina gave me.”

You hand the bottle to Zayne.

“Break the capsule and apply the medicine on his wounds. Just like you would with a topical.”

Zayne stares at the pill bottle in his hand. “…Didn’t Fiordispina make these specifically for you?”

“Don’t worry about it— cough, cough!” You whip your head to the side and cough into your sleeve. “She gave me plenty of them, and I want to make sure he gets better as soon as possible. I’m going to change out of this suit; it’s been suffocating me all day.”

You avoid looking at them as you stumble out of the bathroom, causing you to fail to notice Zayne and Xavier’s expressions.

‘That was a extremely wet cough.’

‘The scent of blood got stronger.’

Chapter Text

Another bout of nausea and pain crashes against your skull, causing the world around you to spin. You collapse into a heap of dizziness, barely managing to save your head from a crash landing against the carpet. At this point, your throat and stomach are on fire, your head is pounding, and your eyes can’t stop watering.

Long story short, you feel like utter crap.

Sleep. You need to sleep. Once you return to the sea of slumber, you’ll feel much better. You’re aware of this, yet you deny yourself that relief.

‘I shouldn’t stay here…’

It wouldn’t be your first time falling asleep in your closet, but that’s not a good reason to do it when you have guests staying over. At the very least, you should sleep on your bed. That being said, getting up or even dragging yourself out of the closet isn’t within your arsenal. Your limbs feel too heavy to move, like someone injected lead into your muscles.

‘It’s going to be like this for a long time, isn’t it?’

You slowly exhale, trying your hardest not to aggravate the theoretical needles in your throat. How nice would it be to be embraced right now. Even if it couldn’t alleviate the symptoms, at least it could serve as a much-needed distraction. But no one in the house would do that for you— your cats can’t exactly hug you, the layla is out of the question for multiple reasons, and you don’t have the right relationship with the men in your house to request such a thing from them. Regardless of your intentions, their hearts are completely devoted to someone else, and you’d never let yourself cross that boundary.

If only Egan was here. They’d do everything in their power to comfort you. Unfortunately, they won’t be able to embrace you ever again.

‘At the very least, please make this a dreamless night.’  Placing hope into the only thing that had a chance of happening, you close your eyes. Exhaustion piles over you, tying you down, forcing your mind into the abyss and your body deeper into the carpet. Your senses dull until nothing remains—not even the faintest flicker of life. Your heart may be beating, and your lungs continue to push air through your body, but right now, you’re dead to the conscious world.

The door opens moments after you’ve fallen asleep. The tiny intruder peeks through the opening and is about to enter when someone grabs ahold of them. It jumps and reflexively attempts to escape.

“What are you doing?” Xavier interrogates as he ruthlessly tightens his grip around the layla.

“Let go of me, you brute!” The layla’s words echo from the master bathroom into the bedroom.

“Answer the question.”

“I was curious about the new presence in the house, so I went to look her to give me an explanation! Now release me or I’ll drown you!” The layla pulls itself out of Xavier’s hold as soon as it feels his hand relaxing. It smooths its dress out and huffs, “Such a lack of decorum; you’re lucky you’re a pretty child.”

Xavier glances through the gap of the door. If it was any other day, he wouldn’t do something as inappropriate as this, but you offered no reaction to the ruckus that just occurred. He spares no time pushing the door open when he sees you on the floor.

“Matchmaker.” He takes your shoulder and gives it a rather rough shake. When you fail to respond, he slides his hand over to your neck to check for a pulse. ‘It’s weak, but it’s there.’

He tries to wake you up again. Nothing happens.

“You should just leave her be.”

Xavier has no reason to listen to the layla, so he doesn’t. This doesn’t perturb the aptet.

“Why don’t you just accept my offer?” The layla settles down on Xavier’s shoulder. “She’s already broken.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t have time to entertain this cynical creature, but he can’t ignore what it just said. “What are you trying to say?”

“She’ll die within the month, so you might as well use her as a bargaining chip.”

The temperature in the house plummets to the point where snowflakes start forming. A thin layer of frost forms over the furniture and across the walls.

“My body! It’s freezing…!”

“Due to the salinity, the freezing point of seawater is negative two degrees Celsius. So, while it’s less likely to freeze, it isn’t impossible.”

Xavier doesn’t need to look to figure out who’s standing behind him. He remains completely still as Zayne reaches over and plucks the layla off his shoulder.

“I understand the customs of the fae are different than human ones, but to repay someone’s kindness with cruelty is despicable,” Zayne continues as he creates an unbreakable ice cage around the layla.

It doesn’t understand. It doesn’t understand the overwhelming power it’s feeling from the doctor. He never showed any signs of it until now.

‘I made a blunder— the divinity coming from whatever that human brought back made me hasty…!’ It should’ve spent more time observing Zayne. It was a mistake to categorize him as a normal human and completely disregard him.  

“Xavier, bring the Matchmaker to her bed. I’ll examine her after I put the layla under confinement.”

“Release…me…!”

“As a doctor, I am obliged to preventing any harm against my patient.”

In the backyard, there’s two small buildings. One is an outdoor cat house for the local strays while the other is a shed. Using the sliding doors in the dining room, he exits the house and walks over to the shed.

“You will be staying here until I can discuss the situation with the Matchmaker.”

Without a nearby water source, the layla can’t speak. Zayne freezes the shed’s interior before stepping out and freezing the door shut. Now, the fairy has no way of escaping.

Zayne clenches his fist and looks up at the night sky. ‘As expected, she’s in far worse shape than what she’s letting on.’

He shouldn’t wait any longer. He can’t afford to, not if he wants you to live.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

To give you and the doctor some privacy, Xavier went back to his room to rest. He waits until the sun starts rising before making his way back downstairs. When he opens the door to your room, he finds Zayne sitting at your bedside, carefully adjusting the infusion drip with his hand.

“How is she?” Xavier whispers as he approaches you and the doctor.

“She appears to be stable. Her heart rate and breathing rate have been on the lower end of the acceptable range. I’m slightly considered about her body temperature, but the heating packs and blankets haven’t done much to improve it,” Zayne relays as he smooths out the duvet for the nth time.

The room is much warmer than it was the last time Xavier was here, so it’s clear that Zayne’s done everything he possibly could. Well, except for slipping under the covers with you.

“How many infusions do we have left?”

“Two, including the one that’s only meant for emergencies.”

“Will we be able to get more?”

“If I talk to Caesar, possibly. Miss Fiordispina is the only one who can make them, so with her out of the country, it might be better for us to find an alternative treatment.”

“Will you be able to do that?”

“If there isn’t an alternative, then I’ll make one. I just need to figure out the root cause.”

Xavier knows that’ll take a lot of effort on Zayne’s end, but he doesn’t make any remarks to dissuade him. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your figure. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you were Miss Hunter. Your hair, your skin, even your facial structure— it’s a carbon copy of hers.

“What does she look like in your eyes?” Most people would consider Xavier’s question an awkward attempt to change the subject, but Zayne doesn’t find it peculiar.

“Graham explained a few things to me. Miss Matchmaker’s sequela has the side effect of making her fall asleep, and there’s a random chance of her experiencing the memories of the person she used her ability,” Zayne reveals. “From what he heard from Miss Fiordispina, Miss Matchmaker ended up witnessing one of our memories and saw Miss Hunter. When she woke up, she requested a perfume that could disguise her appearance. I speculate that she did this to prevent any confusion or misconceptions.”

“If that’s true, then why can I see her ‘true’ appearance now? Does the perfume stop working at some point?”

“The perfume only works on people that aren’t aware that their perception is being altered. Now that you recognize her, the perfume won’t influence you.” Zayne takes his glasses off. “I didn’t believe Graham at first, but when I went to check up on her the next day, her appearance completely changed. I was…rather distressed by it.”

Xavier doesn’t think Zayne is lying. It wouldn’t benefit anything in this situation, but that doesn’t stop a knot of confusion and bitterness from forming in his chest.

Splash, splash.

The sound of water catches both Xavier and Zayne’s attention. Zayne speedwalks over to the bathroom. Xavier stays by the bed, partially because he doesn’t want to get in the doctor’s way, and mostly because he’s still trying to work through his thoughts.

“Rafayel? Are you awake?”

Splish, splash.

“…Are you trying to get out of the tub? A pair of legs might make it easier.”

Tap, tap.

“Here’s a towel to dry off. Do you need help getting into the clothes?”

Shuffle.

The next moment, Rafayel’s standing at the doorway, staring at Xavier. Zayne is standing behind the artist, appearing a little perturbed.

“Where do you plan to go?” Zayne asks.

“…” Rafayel mutters something, which only Zayne hears. The doctor’s eyes widen, stunned by the purple-haired man’s answer.

Rafayel beelines towards the bed, and Xavier instinctively moves to stop him.

A dagger made of flames immediately appears in Rafayel’s hand, forcing Xavier to conjure his own light sword. The artist makes an uncharacteristic growl as he glares at the hunter, “I tolerate you and the others because of my bride. But you better get out of my way right now— she’s calling for me!”

Astounded by both Rafayel’s outrage and his words, Xavier is easily pushed aside. Rafayel doesn’t pay attention to the reactions he’s garnered from Zayne and Xavier. Instead, he’s completely focused on you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, my bride.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“You sure are wreaking havoc.”

Xavier’s sword slices through the bear-like aberrant’s neck like butter. The blond looks over his shoulder to see a familiar figure dressed in their signature taupe suit. His glare sharpens as Cielo casually approaches him.

Cielo taps their left cheekbone. “You got blood on your face.”

“…Tch.” Xavier clicks his tongue, shamelessly verbalizing his irritation. Nonetheless, he wipes the blood off his cheek.

“Looks like I caught you at a bad time,” Cielo muses, “but it’s best if you stop your little rampage. Pent up or not, slaughtering Vice’s aberrants will lead to your detainment. This fog won’t be able to conceal you for much longer.”

“What does that have anything to do with you?”

“It doesn’t, but if I don’t stop you, you’re going to put a dear friend of mine in a difficult position.”

Xavier’s hand twitches. Bringing you into the conversation was a deliberate choice.

“I’m sure what transpired last night has left you feeling frustrated, but the Matchmaker is going to need some peace and quiet to recover.” The report Cielo received from Koven was detailed— it spoke of Koven’s afternoon detour, the auction itself, and of course, the little surprise near the end. “If you want vengeance, your target has already been detained by Vice. You won’t be able to do anything without their permission—”

“I’m not interested in revenge.”

“What’s gotten you all riled up then?”

Xavier averts his gaze, refusing to speak. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now, especially not someone who’s trying to play therapist with him.

Cielo sighs, “When I first met you yesterday, I genuinely believed you were a normal civilian. There wasn’t a single trace of blood in your scent. But today, you’re absolutely drowning in it. Something must’ve happened for you to show this side of you.”

There’s only a tiny hint of that amber fragrance from yesterday. Cielo wouldn’t have noticed it if they hadn’t met him yesterday; the stench of blood is so potent that even the most seasoned soldiers would keel over. Xavier stands atop a world of corpses— a world that’s been disguised with citrus, amber, and resin facets.  

“This is only the second time someone’s managed to deceive me. It’s truly impressive.” The Acierno heir reaches into their suit jacket.

Bang!

Without his lightning reflexes, Xavier would’ve been shot right in the chest. He can’t conceal his disbelief as he stares at the person in front of him.

Cielo’s harmless smile transforms into something unreadable. “That won’t do. You’re supposed to accept the gift—why did you parry it?”

Xavier responds with a swing of his sword. Cielo fires another bullet, veering Xavier off his intended path. This isn’t enough to deter him though. All he needs to do is adjust his attack.

His blade slams against the barrel of Cielo’s handgun.

“What are your intentions?” Xavier demands as the fire in his heart flares into a blaze.

“What a silly question,” Cielo sneers as they use their free hand to throw a punch at the blond. “I’m just trying to protect my friend.”

Xavier jumps back, dodging Cielo’s fist. “Protect your friend? After you deliberately sent her off to that auction?”

If they really wanted to keep you safe, then they wouldn’t have given you those damn tickets. You were recovering well, and now it’s all gone down the drain. Just thinking of your collapsed figure in the closet made his blood boil. Not to mention, had you not fainted, he wouldn’t have had to hear to that stupid fairy’s words.

“Truly, those tickets were intended to be a get-well gift. While Ryan Geier isn’t the most… respectable businessman, his collections are novel. I figured she would’ve been able to pick up something interesting. Who would’ve thought he’d suddenly grow a backbone and go against the guard dogs he’s so terrified of?”

You also happened to be the most convenient choice when it came to relaying the auction information to Agatha, but Cielo decided to keep that to themselves. They don’t want Xavier’s grudge to develop any further (for your sake). They just wanted to rile him up a little.

“Also, don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical to be upset at me for giving Miss Matchmaker those tickets? It’s not like you snuck into the auction hall because you were concerned about her wellbeing, right?”  

The tension in the air snaps. Xavier lunges towards Cielo, much like how an injured beast would. The stench of distrust that’s always surrounding him is swallowed by fumes of rage potent enough to bring tears to the eyes. Cielo drops their gun and parries Xavier’s sword with the dagger they tucked under their sleeve. They clash with such strength and velocity that enormous sparks fly into the surrounding fog.

The heir sneers, “Looks like I hit a nerve!”

Xavier responds with an even stronger strike. Cielo accepts this aggressive gesture with unadulterated glee. Despite not having a combat-related sequela, Cielo manages to hold their own ground against the experienced hunter. It’s maddening, absolutely infuriating, but Xavier can’t say he hates it. How long has it been since he’s been able to fight an opponent of similar caliber? How long has it been since he’s felt the genuine need to give it his all, physically? How long has it been since he’s allowed himself to simply let go?

The stars in his eyes change as he allows his instincts to take over.

The fight doesn’t stop until both of their lungs are burning for air, and their clothes are tattered. Cute and scrapes cover the places where their skin is exposed, and their hair is completely ruffled.

Cielo loosens their tie and unclasps the first button of their dress shirt. “Whew. That’s much better.”

Xavier keeps his eyes glued to Cielo. He might be exhausted, but he refuses to lower his guard. The Acierno heir meets his gaze and grins.

He frowns. “What?”

“Did the little spar help clear your thoughts?”

Now that Cielo mentioned it, his chest doesn’t feel as stuffy anymore, and the incessant buzzing in his head stopped.

“Despite Koven’s attitude, she’s pretty in tune with people’s emotions. When she told me that you seemed troubled, I figured you’d end up here again to release some steam,” Cielo confesses as they secure their guns into their shoulder holsters. “It’s a good thing I came.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t I tell you earlier? I’m just trying to protect a friend,” they say, reminding Xavier of the conversation they had before they started fighting. “It would be a pity if you got locked up by Vice.”

“Are you trying to say I’m your friend?” He hardly knew Cielo; how could they be friends? He’d barely consider them an acquaintance.

“Miss Matchmaker is something like a little sister to me. That means her friends are my own people. I’ll support them the same way I support her.” Cielo’s eyes narrow as their smile widens. “So, what’s gotten you so frustrated? I’ll lend you an ear, if you’re interested in a more civil method of problem solving.”

“How am I supposed to feel towards someone who looks identical to my lover?”

‘Oh my. A heavy question right off the bat.’ Cielo shoves their hands into their suit pockets. “First things first, let’s change locations. This is hardly the place for a heart-to-heart conversation.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Crash!

The sound of metal slamming against the tiles makes Chester jump out of his skin. He rushes out of the pantry to see his latest hire leaning against one of the prep tables, holding his right arm. He looks up at Chester with a wry smile, “Sorry ‘bout the peppers.”

“The peppers aren’t important!” Chester exclaims, appalled. “How’s your arm? Do you want to take the day off?”

“Just need a bit of time to settle down,” he wheezes.

“Caleb, I really think you should get it checked out by a professional. It’s been causing you a lot of pain.”

“As much as I’d love that, a regular doctor isn’t going to be able to do much about this.”

 “I’m sure we can get a referral to a specialist.”

Caleb grimaces, “I’ll think about it.”

Chester sighs, “Let me know if you want my help finding a doctor. I have a friend who can help you.”

“Kay, thanks.”

“Take a break; I can do the rest of the morning prep.”

“But—”

“No buts! I’m going to kick you out for the day if you try to do anything for the next thirty minutes.”

Caleb laughs, “I’ll go rest in the break room then.”

“Good, good.” Chester gets up from the floor and waits for Caleb to stand up before stepping away. “And don’t even try to fold the towels or aprons! I already counted how many were in each stack.”

 “Yes sir.”

Chester watches Caleb step into the break room before he pulls his phone out.

[Chester: Hey, could you call me when you’re free? I want to discuss something with you. It’s about that new hire I mentioned before.]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A man with silver hair and crimson eyes steps into a room. There’s a middle-aged woman sitting in a rocking chair by the window, crocheting with thin white yarn. She looks up from her project and smiles softly at the younger man, “It seems like your hunt was successful.”

“All thanks to you, Mrs. Hertz.” Sylus leans against the wall beside the window. “Without your intel, I wouldn’t have been able to secure all those treasures. Are you sure you don’t want a share of the riches?”

The woman resumes her crocheting. “This old lady has little desire for gold or jewels, and I hardly did anything to deserve payment. I only mentioned that there was an automatic destruction mechanism set in place… you were the one who figured the rest out.”

“But I don’t have a penchant for owing favors. What shall we do?”

“You’re already doing me a favor by taking over the Carrion. Your actions will soon reach the ears of a certain person, and they undoubtedly make their way here, giving me the chance to see them once more.”

“Oh? And who may that be?”

“Philomena.” Mrs. Hertz’s eyes sparkle with life as she mentions a name.

Crows fly past the windows, cawing ominously as the clouds return to Carrion, covering the blue sky in a shroud of dark gray. Sylus’s right eye glows as Mrs. Hertz makes eye contact with him. A flash of lightning lands dangerously close to the building, but it doesn’t phase either of them.

“She is my beloved daughter… and the messiah that will bring salvation to this dreadful world.”  

‘SHE MUST DIE FOR THE RESSURECTION OF OUR GOD.’

‘Please save her.’