Chapter Text
The gray sea crashed outside XGaster's window, filling the room with a gentle sound. Out of the rows and rows of grim, seaside apartments, XGaster's was probably the most neatly kept, what with its clean black, white and purple color scheme, or its perfectly organized books, classics on the right and criminology on the left.
XGaster, one of the foremost experts in criminology and certain mental disorders, was a perfectly organized man. He had every item in his appartment assigned a certain place, and for even a single novel to deviate from its predetermined spot would grate on the mind until one felt almost compelled to fix their evident misplacement.
The cigarettes, too, quite possibly the greatest factor in determining the sheer amount wealth XGaster owned, were organized from the mildest mear the window and the harshest furthest away from it.
His liquor always seemed to be perfectly level and in line, as if you could line the bottles up, shoulder to shoulder, and use the continuous line of liquid as a ruler.
XGaster was reading in his armchair, when an urgent summons called his attention. A frantic knock at the door. XGaster sighed, marked his place in the thick novel, and rose from the armchair, heels clacking as he strode across the freshly cleaned floors of his living room.
He reached his door, opening it and then neatly sidestepping to let a small skeleton fall through. It was swallowed in a large brown scarf, almost covering its brown shirt. It-or more accurately, he-was wearing a bowler hat, which tumbled off of his head. He frantically tripped forward, managed to secure his hat, straightened it on his head, then immediately took it off to bow over it.
"Sir, we have a problem. Aster wants to marry Gaster." XGaster scrutinized the newcomer in a curious manner that was neither impolite nor gentlemanly.
"Oh, I apologize. I should introduce myself. My name is Ink Comyet. I presume you must be the reknown XGaster Jakei. I had heard you would be the one to seek out for my predicament."
"I am indeed Dr XGaster, but you may have misunderstood my specialties. I deal almost entirely with matters of literature and education. I have occasionally been asked to aid the police in particularly important cases before but-"
"Oh, this is quite important," interjected Ink.
"See, his brother won't let him get married." Ink leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled with the aura of a man who has just Won. XGaster's brows furrowed, though in anger or amusement it was difficult to tell.
"I am afraid i still do not understand how this concerns a man of my skillset."
"You see, they want to gat married," said the skeleton in the bowler hat. he tilted his head up slightly lifting the shadow of its brim from the splotch on his cheek.
"Aster and Gaster want to get married. Now what can be more important than that?"
They whispered on the street that the great XGaster's mind had stripped him of his heath, his religion, and sometimes even his compassion. But despite the rumors that abounded like fleas in a crowded shelter, even XGaster's greatest critics praised him of his sound and logical mind. It was this sanity that squeezed a chukle out of the scientist's normally unsmiling mouth and he lowered himself into an armchair, one leg over the other, chin resting on his hand while his elbow in turn was propped up on the armrest.
Mr Ink, it has been a decade and a half since i got involved in a personal case, and that was an attempt to poison Core Frisk, leader of this fine nation. What you ask of me, however, is if some friend of yours named Aster is a suitable match for this Gaster character. I am, however, feeling generous today. I will take on the case and give the Comyet family advice as good as i gave Core Frisk all those years ago. No, i will give you better advice, fifteen years better. My afternoon is free; tell me your story."
The little skeleton thanked XGaster with warmth, but with a stange simplicity, as if he was thanking a stranger for picking up a dropped coin rather than thanking a man with utmost stature, such as XGaster. Then, he took a deep breath and began to recount his tale.
"My name is Ink Comyet, but i daresay you already know that. I am the Director of Fine Arts for a small school in the northernmost part of town. Far along the smallest, scraggly road that runs along the sea, beyond pretty much every building in town, is an observatory. In this observatory lives one of my most honest yet short-tempered alumni, my uncle, Zephyr, along with my Pa, Aster. They earn their bread by studying the stars, my Pa more than my Uncle, and are well respected for their honest work. In fact, they might have written some of your fine textbooks here. Anyways, Zephyr had agreed to house and feed an old childhood friend of Aster's, Gaster. Now heres where the trouble arises; Gaster wants to marry my Pa."
"And what does your father want?" XGaster asked with amusement.
"Why, to marry Gaster, of course! But that is just the dillema!" XGaster internally chuckled with mirth and contempt.
"Indeed! How hideous an enigma!"
"Gaster," Ink continued,
"Is a decent fellow far as I know. Tall and handsome, quick of wit and agile to boot. His coffers seem to be overflowing, but nobody knows where it all comes from. Zephyr, being the pessimistic type, thinks its something to do with explosives. I am inclined to think otherwise, for Gaster is well spoken and open for most of the day. He only shuts himself in his room for a few hours a day, arguing that his privacy is well needed. He has promised to explain before the wedding. Rumors grow like weeds, though, and reportedly Gaster has been heard talking to another man. But when his door is opened, he is always alone. There are tales of a tall man with an overlarge tophat coming out of the sea-mists in the dead of night, and Gaster leans out his window and talks to him. Their latest discussion has seemed to have ended in a quarrel, for Gaster stormed off and the Other Man departed. Zephyr, being the skeptical skeleton he is, is inclined to think this Other Man crawls out of the locked box in Gaster's room every night. Thus, his room is a sea of skepticism and fanices such compared to the Doodlesphere itself. However, Gaster certainly doesn't live up to the rumors. He is neat, polite, runs errands for Aster and Zephyr when ever they ask, is amazing with kids, and has won over the heart of my Pa. they're ready to go to the ceremony tomorrow."
After engaging a man in a deeply irrelevant and frivolous discussion, one feels the need to condescend expansivley. And condescend XGaster did. He settled down in his armchair, straigtening his spine in an attempt to look down on the small skeleton in fornt of him.
"In any respectable society, there is always an outlier. A weed to be pruned. Just because one stone remains dry from the seaspray doesn't mean the waves arent coming in. Just because one fallen leaf retains it's color doesnt mean the others aren't trampled black by heavy boots. Such are these patterns that humanity follows, like the great transcontinental migrations of deer. Now, the underlying factor in any respectable society to determine who stays dry and who stays gold, who is doomed to freeze to death or die of heat, is background. Background produces family, beliefs, wars, peace. Now this... Aster... seems to be from a rather simpleminded town, perhaps somewhere up north. Therefore it is not much if a strech to conclude that their whole family (if you may excuse me) is a bunch if superstitious simpletons. You, being the encouraging kind, have given wind to the sails of Zephyr's ill-fated barge into superstition. The scientific mind might see this as-"
Suddenly, the two men were interrupted by another summons, this time by a tall, winged skeleton bursting through the door. He was wearing a cream turtleneck and brown pants, and his skeletal tail lashed behind him. His apology, though sincere, was hurried and followed immediately by his rather grave news.
"I am sorry to interrupt, sir, but i followed Ink here with urgent news." Ink begain clambering to his feet, hampered by the tangle of his scarf.
"Why, what has happened, Aster?"
"Gaster has been murdered! The man Glass has been talking to him again, i could tell it was two seperate voices, even from behind the door, for Gaster speaks in a mid rumble, while Glass' voice is high and squeaky."
"Glass?" Asked Ink, a perplexed expression blossoming on his face.
"Yes, thats his name. Glass. I heard them through the door. They were arguing, about money, i think, for i heard Gaster say 'That's right, Mr Glass,' 'No, Mr Glass,' then 'Two and three, Mr Glass.' But we've wasted time enough, we must return immediately. Zephyr is waiting."
"Immediately? You imply that your summons is of the utmost urgency. What is there about money troubles that could possibly justify such haste?" XGaster asked, studying the newcomer with barely-concealed interest.
"I tried to break down the door, but it was shut fast," answered Aster,
"Then i tried to get in through the window from the outside, but it was shut too tightly. Inside, it was empty, except for Gaster lying in the corner, as if he was unconscious or dead."
"Well, this has certianly gotten serious. In fact, i was just telling this fine gentleman about our predicament. Unfortunately, his opinons-" XGaster interupted Ink, standing up from his chair.
"Have been reconsidered. I will look into this matter after all." Within a few short minutes, Director, Criminologist, and Astronomer were nearing the desolate corner of town Ink and Aster called home.
It was indeed a bleak place, scraggly spaced apart houses cast in a grim light by the stunted trees in their yards. The scent of the sea filled the air with the tang of salt, and the road grew increasingly faint as the traveled on.
Eventually, they reached the end of it, where a small observatory stood, twin trees reaching up from the backyard like the hands of the damned. Zephyr answered the door when they knocked, muttering a recount if his brother's story as they walked through the halls if the observatory. With a technique picked up from his time as a detective, XGaster put his shoulder to the door and shoved it open.
It opened to a scene of carnage. Without a doubt, the whole thing was a result of some kind of fight between two-or perhaps more-people. Playing cards were strewn about, two wine glasses were set on a side table, but one lay shattered on the floor. Next to it lay an ornate dagger, dull blade reflecting the trees and the sea. In the corner lay a silk top hat as if it had been knocked off its wearers head. And behind it lay, tied up with a scarf across his mouth and with strong ropes tying his limbs together, was Mr. Gaster, very much alive.