The world around Lorelei was alive with the smell of baked goods, the kind which whispered sweet nothings about cozy tea times and the inevitable expansion of one’s waistline. The village where the team had retired after defeating the Chimera continued to be as charming and creepily stereotypically English as it had been when they had first passed through. You half expected Miss Marple to pop out from behind a hedge, ready to solve a murder involving a vicar, a missing cake recipe, and a shocking revelation about the true parentage of someone’s third cousin.
There was, though, thought Lorelei, something about how the cups, teapots, ovens, and furniture sought to 'serve' the seated group, which she suspected was likely to infringe any number of Disney-related copyrights. The village was one singing teapot away from an outright legal battle, and she wasn’t sure her insurance – was there still such a thing is this post-integration world? - would cover “lawsuits from a multinational entertainment conglomerate.” That, more than anything, was encouraging her to want to move the group onwards. Never mind rampaging giant snakes that breathed poison, the Mouse's lawyers didn't mess about.
However, in order to achieve that, she needed to square away her feelings about a certain man outside. And, despite what her Guide said about needing the Charm Leech for the ominous sounding ‘what is to come’, she wasn’t keen.
*
Kris squatted on a conveniently placed butter churn, clutching a borrowed handkerchief to his nose. A nose streaming blood. A nose streaming blood because Lorelei had punched him. Butter churns, a voice in the back of his mind said, were significantly less comfortable to lean on than, say, a fluffy cushion, or literally anything that wasn't designed to beat dairy products into submission. However, a sore bum and the dull, throbbing pain from a surprisingly solid right cross was less of a concern right now than how low his levels of Adoration had dropped. Kris drew in a shallow breath, wincing at how difficult it was to fill his lungs; the cosy pink aura he usually sensed enveloping him was guttering like a candle on the verge of calling it a day. And the worst thing was, he really should have seen this coming.
But it did him little good to worry about that now. The moment the others had been made aware of his Charm Leech Class, all the tendrils of power he was syphoning off them abruptly sloughed away. It was like a running tap had been . . . well, not so much turned off as ripped from the wall and melted down for slag. The loss of all that sweet, sweet Adoration - which functioned as both his mana and was linked to the regeneration of his HP - was pretty devastating. That he didn't even have enough spare mana to to fix a broken nose told its own sad little tale, and that story was one where the protagonist ends up in an uncomfortable chat about the merits of stitches versus bandages.
The guys of the party - Pete, Michael, Steffan, and Zorrobar - stood awkwardly near him, not really sure what to say. They all had experienced of the kind of “awkward silence” that occurs at funerals or, say, when someone mentions necrophilia at the dinner table, but this was in a category of its own. They’d come outside with some sense of solidarity for a healer who had significantly healed each of them during their brief travels. But, now they were here, they were not really sure what to do. At least one of them was considering the earache they were going to receive for seeming to support Kris over Lorelei.
Kris had another take on it; that these four had been a steady battery of low-key admiration and respect and he was pretty pissed off it appeared to have dried up. Of course, this emotion had not provided as much Adoration as Lorelei, Hild, or Michelle - he'd been able to tap into a very different source of power from their attraction to him - but it had been a decent background top-off for him. Now it was gone, and he was left feeling utterly bereft.
The door to the coffee shop banged open, and Lorelei stalked out, spotting him and walking forward, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was a pretty damn volatile mix of frustration, anger, and something else that Kris couldn’t quite place. Her dyed-red hair, with the strange white stripe through it, was tangled and singed, and her face bore several fresh cuts and bruises. However, he was most concerned by her ice-blue eyes which fixed him with a stare that suggested he'd be lucky just to escape this encounter with just a broken nose. Not for the first time since the integration, Kris found himself wishing he'd picked a more straightforward Healing Class. Perhaps one that didn’t involve so much potential for enraged teammates and villagers taking to streets with torches and pitchforks. But no, he had to go with his first, twattish instinct and pick the one with “Leech” in its title.
Kris opened his mouth to speak, to maybe thank Fortuna’s Herald for the part she’d played in keeping them all alive, but before he could form the words, Lorelei took over. “So, a fucking Charm Leech, then?”
Kris’s jaw tightened, the weariness in his body suddenly replaced by a creeping dread. He felt the distrust in Lorelei’s eyes, the thinly veiled contempt dropping his levels of Adoration even further. He was in trouble here. “It’s not like I had a choice,” Kris said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. He pushed himself upright on the butter churn, ignoring how his vision swam with the sudden movement. “The System offered it to me. You think I wanted things to work out like this?”
“Of course you must have fucking wanted it! We all had the same options as you did, and you didn't see any of the rest of us choosing Creepy Motherfucker, did you? How long have you been feeding on of our emotions, Kris? I bet you’ve been you properly getting off on all the 'Adoration' coming your way?”
“That’s not fair, Lorelei,” Zorrobar interjected, his voice tired but calm. The group’s Fire Mage, a large figure made up principally of beard and good humour, had been leaning against a tree—a perfectly proportioned Weeping Willow, of course—observing the exchange with a wary eye. “None of us is happy about it. And it would have been much better if he’d just been honest with us. But it’s not like he’s been slacking on the healing front, is it? He’s saved all our lives more than once. He might be a wanker, but Kris is one of us.”
“Is he?” Lorelei shot back, her glare shifting to Zorrobar now. “We’ve been fighting side by side for the last few days, and now we find out he is basically a love parasite? He gets his power through convincing us to like him. Do any of you feel good about that?”
Kris flinched but kept his mouth shut, knowing that anything he said now would likely only make things worse. Instead, he clenched his fists, feeling the strange, unsettling sensation of his Charm Leech Skills dwindling beneath his skin, like a balloon slowly deflating. And not even one of those fun balloons, but one you’re not entirely sure will make it home and, even if it does, you know your kid is going to cry the minute it pops.
Zorrobar sighed, running a hand through his dark, sweat-drenched hair. “Lorelei, I understand your frustration. We all do. But what do you want us to do about it. We know the System does what it wants. We don’t always understand it, but we must trust that there’s a reason behind what has occurred. Kris would not have become a Charm Leech if it were not something the System felt we would need.”
Lorelei thought that was a charmingly naïve view of a System which, as far as she could tell, was basically running the planet on vibes. “Fuck off, Z. The System doesn’t care about us,” Lorelei snapped. “It’s a dick that's playing around with us for its own enjoyment. I bet it's loved us having a Charm Leech in our group, secretly powering up on how we felt about him.” She spat the Class title like it was something vile. “How can we possibly trust someone who gains in strength the more we like him? It's perverse.”
***Indignant Message***
Hang on a second there, cupcake; how is any of this my fault? I'm just the holder of the massive encyclopaedia of possible Classes which I offer without fear or favour. I can't help it that this dude woke up on the morning of the integration and chose to become a wanker. Although, full disclosure, this particular Class seems to have been a trendy choice for a specific sub-culture on your planet. Now, what in the universe is an 'Incel'?
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There was a pause during which Lorelei assumed her Guide was checking out the collected works of Andrew Tate.
Fucking hell. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. You guys are absolutely not ready to be integrated into our System. Fuck me.
Lorelei dismissed the notification, aware that Kris was trying out some whining.
“Look, guys, regardless of my Class, I’m still me,” Kris said, his voice having a nasal quality that was part whinge and part snapped cartilage. “I’m still the same person you’ve got to know over the last few days. As Z said, it’s hardly like I’ve been slacking on the healing front, is it? When you think about it, if I’d picked a different Class I might not have been able to help so much!”
Lorelei stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. “Seriously, that’s the defence you’re running with. Ends justifying the fucking means! Do you even know what it does to you? Where your 'Adoration' comes from?”
Kris swallowed hard, the knot of anxiety in his stomach tightening. The truth was, he didn’t fully understand the extent of his new abilities. He knew he would gain power from whatever group he was in, the amount scaling against how much they respected and admired him. He had thus far concentrated on the Healing Skills he had available, sensing that this was the quickest way to gain the trust of those around him. But he was aware there were other, less palatable Skills lurking on his stat screen, waiting to introduce themselves to the others at the worst possible moment.
“My Class is… complicated,” Kris began, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not just about taking Adoration from you and powering up. It’s more like … look, if you think about it properly, I’m just borrowing it. I take what I need to keep my mana levels high and then I use that mana to help you all out. To be honest, I'm basically recycling something you won't miss to keep you alive! I return your energy to all to you when I cast spells upon you—”
“And if you don’t?” Lorelei interrupted. “What happens then? How much of our love and affection do you need to ‘borrow’ before we’re nothing but empty husks?”
“That’s not how it works!” Kris snapped, his patience finally wearing thin. He could feel her contempt—and the growing distrust from the others—as if they were pumping out 'anti-Adoration'. Their negative feelings towards him would pull out any mana if had left if he were not careful. “I don’t know all the details yet, but I’m manifestly not some vampire. I’m a fucking Healer!”
Lorelei’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “You say that now, but what happens when you get desperate? When we’re in the middle of a fight, and you’re low on energy? Will you ask us nicely before you start leeching away our emotions, or will you just take what you need and screw us?”
"Tha’s enough!” Pete’s voice boomed out, shutting them both up. He stepped forward, wedging himself between Kris and Lorelei, a stern look on his face. “We’re not gan’ ter tear each other apart ower this. We’re a team, man, an’ we’ll sort it out together, reet?”
Lorelei’s gaze didn’t waver from Kris, but she didn’t say anything more. After a tense moment, she turned sharply on her heel and walked away, heading to a bench beside a picturesque babbling brook. A host of fluffy ducklings appeared as if from nowhere and waddled to sit around her feet. Zorrobar, Michael, and Steffan returned inside the coffee shop, casting reproachful looks at their healer, and perhaps considering whether they’d ever be able to enjoy a cup of tea in peace again. They weren’t anticipating a warm welcome from the ladies inside.
Pete watched them all go, then turned back to Kris. The anger in his eyes had softened, replaced by something else—something that looked uncomfortably like pity. “Ye need ter have a word with her,” Pete muttered, his voice low. “Explain stuff, if ye can. She’s scared, Kris. We all are. Don’t make us choose between two of ya’.”
Kris nodded, though he wasn’t sure what he could say that would make any difference at this stage. “I understand what you’re saying. And I promise I’ll try,” he said, which was a lot like saying, “I’ll jump into this pit full of spikes and hope for the best.”
As Pete moved to follow the other party members inside, the familiar chime of the System’s interface rang in Kris’s ears, followed by a translucent screen materializing in front of him. It was all in the sort of font in which you wouldn’t want to receive a job performance review.
***SYSTEM NOTICE: TEAM STATUS UPDATE***
- Lorelei Norton: Emotional stability: broken. Current trust level: 8%
- Pete Shepphard: Emotional stability: wavering. Current trust level: 46%
- Zorrobar Singh: Emotional stability: stable. Current trust level: 58%
- Steffan Barnes: Emotional stability: unstable. Current trust level: 39%
- Michael Smith: Emotional stability: stable. Current trust level: 47%
- Michelle Smith: Emotional stability: unstable. Current trust level: 47%
- Hild Achen: Emotional stability: unstable. Current trust level: 23%
- Chrissy Penderly: Emotional stability: stable. Current trust level: 53%
***WARNING: TRUST LEVELS BELOW 50% MAY RESULT IN CHARM LEECH ABILITIES DEVOLVING***
Kris clenched his jaw, willing away the frustration that threatened to bubble over. ‘Devolving’ did not sound like the sort of thing he wanted to happen. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, now the System was reminding him that he was one bad decision away from . . . what? Taking up drinking bitter and supporting United? His Guide sucked. It was a sort of anti-motivational pep talker, really.
As if in response, another notification flashed across the screen, and this time, Kris felt a cold shiver run down his spine as the A.I.’s words filled his vision.
***WARNING MESSAGE TO ALL PARTY MEMBERS: CHARM LEECH REQUIRED FOR IMMINENT TEAM OBJECTIVE. SUCCESS CHANCE WITHOUT CHARM LEECH: 12%. BE WARNED ***
“Great,” Kris muttered under his breath. “I’m sure that will make them all love me now! Fucking hell.”
As usual, the A.I. didn’t respond, leaving Kris alone with his thoughts. None of which were good. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for what was coming next. He knew he needed to figure out his Class’s abilities, and fast. If the System said he was necessary for whatever came next, then there was no avoiding it. But first, he needed to try to repair the damage already done. His eyes tracked to Lorelei’s seated form, and he steeled himself for the conversation ahead. There was too much at stake to let their team fall apart now, not least, where was he going to find a group that would be so willing to ‘adore’ him on Day 3. He’d worked hard at cultivating these relationships, and he was loathe to start again.
Kris pushed off from the butter churn, ignoring the pain that flared from his nose and started after Fortuna’s Herald. Apart from the soft quacking of the ducklings and the babbling of the river, everything was unusually quiet; the sounds of their epic battle had long faded. It was the sort of quiet that one could easily mistake for peace if it weren't for the dark cloud of unresolved tension hanging over their heads.
He sauntered up to Lorelei and hovered at the edge of her vision until he was sure she’d noticed him. She didn’t turn to look at him as he approached, but he could tell by the set of her shoulders that she knew he was there. “Lorelei,” Kris began, hesitating as he searched for the right words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s… difficult. But we must find a way to work through it. The team—”
“The team doesn’t need a parasite,” she interrupted. “I’ve been in relationships with men like you before—it doesn’t matter what the Class is called. It’s always the same in the end.”
Kris felt heat flush to his cheeks. The woman to talking to him like they’d known each for considerably longer than a few days. Sure, there’d been some idle flirting, but he thought the whole ‘betrayed soul’ act was a bit much. Biting down his inclination to tell her to go fuck herself, he went for conciliatory. “Look, it’s not my plan to hurt any of you, Lorelei. I swear.”
She finally turned to face him, and the look in her eyes was one of deep, simmering anger mixed with something that might have been fear. “And what happens when you don’t have a choice? When the System decides that it’s you or us? Will you still swear to protect us then?”
Fuck no, he thought. If he needed to drain his teammates of all their Adoration to survive, he was pretty sure he'd do it in a heartbeat. However, before he could find a more diplomatic answer than that, Lorelei shook her head, turning away from him once more. “You should have told us, Kris. From the beginning. We’re supposed to trust each other, rely on each other. But how can we do that when you’re keeping secrets?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Kris admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want to lose your trust.” Well, that much was true, anyway.
Lorelei let out a bitter laugh. “Well, you’ve certainly done a fine job of that.”
Kris stood there, feeling as though the weight of the entire System was pressing down on him. The kind of pressure that makes diamonds, or, more likely in his case, a crater where his self-esteem used to be.