Yon replies first, “Rainol.”

“I don’t know!”

Harux replies with something that barely qualifies as an answer.

I suspect Yon shares the same sentiment, as I catch him eyelids shut and body still with disapproval.

“I guess you mean you don’t have a sense of geographic identity, right?”

The downcast boy looks at Harux.

“Geographic identity? What’s that?”

“A place you like in particular, I guess.”

“Mhm,” Harux nods before stating something even more outrageous.

“I like the forest!”

“Do you have a forest you prefer?”

“Uh… I guess.”

“Do you know where it was near? It’s fine if you don’t”.

“Walpa, I think.”

Yon resumes his investigation without ever losing his dreary look. “I see. That’d be the Walpan Forest, then.”

“Aptly titled”. I add.

“Seems so.”

The boy’s tired eyes shine with uncharacteristic kindness.

“Thank you for taking the time to answer, Harux. I hope it wasn’t too boring for you.”

“It’s alright!”

Huh.

Yon is pretty nice, not going to lie. While I had thought the school a den of crazed lunatics, I have to say that he definitely shines as a diamond among the rough. Hell, even Harux is more approachable than I’d imagined. Though his eccentricities are definitely exaggerated, communication still proves possible and, by all means, sufficiently pleasant.

Take it from me not to judge on basis of first impressions.

In the end, the many-sided nature of people really is unpredictable, huh?

What a world this is.

----------------------------------------

Our supper ended a little after our conversation, culminating in dessert and fond goodbyes. The way back proved rather uneventful, resulting from a lack of interaction or any event of particular notice. Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom, relieving myself of bodily afflictions, when a particular lack thereof came to notice.

“Hm.”

In defiance of this setback, I took upon this task of examination, checking the cupboards underneath and above the sink. To no avail, what I sought was not there. For lack of a better way to put it, we had no toilet paper.

“Harux, did you see any toilet paper in your room?”

Pause.

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I wait, half-expecting him to ask what it is.

“Nope!”

So that only leaves one option.

“Want to come to the local convenience store?”

“Alright!”

As Harux answers, I head to the closet and slide into my Vicci double-breasted felt coat. The elf-boy prepares similarly, wearing some nameless brand of sheepskin cloak and boots to match. The two of us then exit the academy through the side entrance. There, we step onto a gravel pavement and essentially head to the enclosure behind the school. Afterwards, a minute in, our destination appears.

“There it is!”

We continue to move in the direction of the now visible low-heighted silhouettes. Once we arrive, the closeness of everything brings to light a few noticeable details. For one, it seems the place is rather active. Though hardly as crowded as a city, I’m still able to find dozens of students roaming about, some in groups, some in pairs, and some alone. The other standout is the architecture.

“It’s not bad.”

The part we’re currently in is reminiscent of a scene in a sci-fi film. All around are low-hanging square buildings made of purposely worn-out-looking brick. Protruding from them are rectangular signs, lit up with neon lights that shine a combination of red and green and inscribed with texts that read out the names of goods or services.

“There are a lot of people.”

I send a few wayward glances around, observing the students walking past. The ‘convenience’ district, it now occurs to me, is rather stuffed with things to do. Just a few minutes in, and I’ve caught wind of a karaoke place, a movie theatre, and a few stands selling street food. Were it not for today’s physical and mental exertions, I might’ve found myself visiting one.

However, being ever so fatigued, I find myself settling on a nearby convenience store instead, entering through its sliding glass doors as the chink of a well-placed bell pierces my eardrums.

“Welcome, please come in!” the store clerk says, making a show of a wave and smile.

Harux waves back and heads to pick out food.

In search of toilet paper, I enter the third aisle instead. Here, a slew of household items stocks the racks, from toiletries to light perfumes. Searching the shelves, I stumble upon my item of choice and spot its price tag.

‘1200 points’.

Hm.

The other prices for the household items seem to suggest this is relative to what's expected. But, in spite of that, a sneaking suspicion gnaws at my conscience. Call it bias, but when it comes to new places, I’d rather play it on the safe side. Students are a dubious sort, after all, and there’s little saying whether one of them chose to play a prank at my expense.

I set down the toilet paper for the time being. Choosing to head to the fourth aisle in pursuit of another mode of comparison. Part way there, and part way with my eyes set on pricetags, however, a figure catches my eye.

“Huh.”

Here lies an opportunity ill found—the opportunity to see a catboy.

All it takes is a brief glance, and you can tell.

A pair of furry ears.

A black and white tail that protrudes from his back.

And mossy green eyes that look far too feline to be human.

“Not bad.”

It gives a fairly good impression that he is well-dressed too. The boy wears a high-neck Viccini denim jacket, Ranicho navy blue trousers, and a pair of dated but still fashionable Mos & Motus sports shoes, which, though marked by wear, still shine their illustrious cherry red colour.

“And what do you see in me, good sir?”

The boy brushes back his medium-length hair. His words strike me as a mix of theatric and genuine curiosity, and I deign to reply in turn.

“A penchant for fashion.”

“And?”

I put him on hold for a few seconds. “And a cat’s tail and ears.”

“Hehe. Honest, aren’t you?”

“I do apologi—”

“None needed!” He interjects, smiling with grandeur. “One’s distinct features are something to be proud of, yes? What good would it do me to shy away from such?”

“None whatsoever.” I approach him with an extended hand. “Lucius Mortius.”

He grips my hand firmly. “Ode’go.” The catboy’s free hand caresses his chin. “So, millionaire businessman in the flesh and blood, eh?”

“I take it you’re familiar with my work?”

“Familiar?” He laughs. “Familiar is a gentle way of putting it. Let’s just say.” He extends the nails on his free hand. “I’ve had first-hand experience with them.”