When Jordan had first arrived at Rahm’s home in the Cosmic Oasis, he’d believed that it was smaller than its neighbors. While the forest in the backyard had threatened that belief, it was the constant endless series of hallways leading past identical copies of the main living space that shattered it completely.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Jordan on his journey to the ritual chambers, that all of the mirrored homes carried varied signs of Kioko’s displeasure as well.

Eventually, they came to a section of the house with a new aesthetic. While the room itself was small, it had a wooden floor that reminded Jordan of a dojo, of all things. He supposed it made sense—cultivation was an Eastern ‘mystical’ thing, so a training studio fit the theme. He turned to ask Rahm jokingly if he should take off his socks before entering, but noticed with a start—Rahm was walking into a different room nearby.

Glancing towards the open door, Rahm’s room looked the same inside, confusing the hell out of Jordan. Before he could ask about it, however, Kioko lightly pushed, ushering him inside their dojo-room. She closed the door behind them, which from this side of the room appeared completely different—it looked like a paper sliding door despite its ornate golden doorknob and distinct lack of sliding features.

“Er, why did he—”

“Shhh.”

The sudden shushing from the cat-girl alarmed Jordan, but not as much as the… literal alarm bells ringing in his head. He’d managed to miss it—proving his ‘proper behavior’ etiquette ability, or whatever it was, wasn’t perfect. But he felt it now.

Now was a time for… silence? He hoped this would make sense soon.

In the dojo-looking room, Kioko brought Jordan aside to where a few chests were sitting out. Opening them revealed a large amount of clothes, prompting Jordan to swallow his annoyance. Earlier Kioko had stripped him, given him a cloth to clean himself with (and complained heavily when he refused to do it and she had to spray him with water like a child being hosed off in the yard), and re-dressed him with fresh garments. It seemed… well, stupid to have to change again.

But that’s life as a woman, isn’t it? One gown after the other, he silently sighed.

After striping, Jordan put on what looked like a thin white bathrobe. Wrapping it across himself, he needed Kioko’s help to put his corset on over it. He was confident it wasn’t part of whatever ‘style’ they were going for here, but the damn thing hid itself perfectly and it was… really convenient. Did every woman wear these? Eh, probably not. I mean, a real one wouldn’t let you breathe at all, right?

Next came new socks that blessedly didn’t cover all the way to his damn thighs. Resting on his feet just past his ankles, there was a split between the big toe and the rest. Wiggling digits experimentally, he figured this would be great for flip flops, assuming this world had them.

Following that, both him and Kioko put on large, silken robes. It seemed strange to wear a second robe of all things, but that damn She-Devil tailor demon, Usiu had put him in several dresses at once, so this was clearly par for the course for women in this new world.

Kioko turned to look at him, and very deliberately pinched the front of her robe and turned herself sideways to show how she was pinching at the back of it as well. Jordan cocked his head curiously at her, which earned him a glare, so out of exasperation he took an inquisitive breath and knew she wanted him to follow her lead. She also kind of wanted to hit him because she was annoyed, and her head hurt from a slight hangover.

Jordan did as instructed and pulled at his robe, but it felt odd to him. Like the whole thing wasn’t even fitting properly anymore. There was an almost full fist size between the back of his neck and the robe’s collar. But then, grabbing the front of the garment, Kioko folded right over left and Jordan mimicked. It was… disturbingly easy to do. His hands just moved on their own, following a pattern ingrained in the Brat that was alien to him. He supposed it wasn’t any different than how he ate all fancy-like.

After fiddling to adjust the garment, the two of them grabbed and wrapped a sash just above their waist, covering their middles and then tying it off. A few more moments were spent smoothing out wrinkles and they were done. Jordan sighed in relief. This was a lot easier than the stupid stuff the She-Devil put him in!

He was just about to start walking off when he realized his feet weren’t responding. He looked down at them in irritation, around the room in worry, and then slowly back at the cat-girl. She smiled at him in a not so friendly manner, and Jordan realized… they weren’t done. Obviously.

Walking over to the other side of the room, Jordan found there was a large wardrobe adjacent to a well-made painting hanging on the wall. It looked like a nice little summer’s field, though it was borderline impressionist in style. Opening the doors, an array of colorful robes greeted them. Suppressing a sigh, Jordan resigned himself to what came next.

Fishing out the least colorful item he could find—some white looking cloth with a minimum of patterning—Jordan once again turned to face Kioko and mirrored her movements. At first, they fussed with the new robe before putting it on, making sure certain folds were in place and the worst wrinkles were gone, before draping it behind themselves. Then, they slowly eased themselves into the cloth, if just to prevent screwing with all the other layers they were already wearing. More fussing ensued on the sleeves and sides, with a bit of flexing to make sure it all fit properly.

They… kind of didn’t. Jordan was expecting at any moment to see a flash of light, or the sounds of magic, and to have the whole thing shrink into him, but it never happened. Instead, he followed along with Kioko as they played with the front of the robes, and then with a dramatic sweep that made Jordan feel like some sort of villain flaring out his dastardly cape, they flapped the garment back and away.

Holding it open for an awkward few moments, Kioko tsked and reset. Jordan raised an eyebrow, but a buzzing in his brain made him realize he’d… messed up somehow. They repeated this step until he somehow ‘flared’ it correctly, and then wrapped it over itself before covering their middles. It wasn’t how robes were supposed to be worn, he felt, but by folding it like they had, they’d raised the hem of the garment, allowing it to rest perfectly over their feet, rather than drag along the floor. Though it felt like a weird muffin top on his guts from the folding.

Keeping it held down while it bunched up on their chest, they tied themselves off with a cord, sealing the bottom portion to its perfection. Smoothing out more slack, they played with the robe until it was folded neatly. Kioko made Jordan pull at the top of his robe until there was a very specific amount of his under robe showing, much to his quiet grumblings. This is why there are fashion demons, damnit!

Kioko then handed Jordan another strap. This one had a clip to it, and attached to one of the sides of the front of the outer robe. Wrapping around his back and into a hidden slit in the garment that shocked the hell out of him to find, it clipped on the inside and held everything on his torso in place as wrinkles were then hunted to extinction.

Why do we have hidden cutaways but not pockets? Jordan lamented at the unfairness of the world as a final sash, beautifully embroidered with slightly pink but simple floral designs, was tied around his middle, hiding all the bits and pieces of his work beneath, clips and all.

Then, somehow surprising Jordan yet again, they moved to put on yet another layer to the clothes. While at first he was aghast, he calmed down when he realized it was merely a third sash, though far more oversized and elaborate than ones prior.

However, he quickly grew to resent his complacency. This damn sash was the hardest piece of all to get right!

He had to constantly go back to fix his work as he folded it, tied it, and spun it around himself, layering it over itself again, and again. Dealing with it reminded him of his first time trying to tie a tie in the mirror, following along with an online tutorial. He’d been determined to make a double Windsor and had ended up going back to the store and purchasing a clip on tie instead.

Thankfully, he had magic skills that worked for fashion (but no fireballs, really!?), so after several minutes of fussing with it, and multiple restarts, he'd finally tied it off to the point where Kioko seemed accepting. They spent a few more minutes brushing at their hair, Jordan needing it the most from the wild fallout of the commute, but by the time they finished they looked… stupid.

They looked completely and utterly ridiculous. Jordan's cheeks couldn't stop glowing from embarassment! Well, Kioko didn't look bad, Jordan felt. She was absolutely adorable. But Jordan felt like a damn shrink-wrapped doll, and twisting the bow they'd made to sit behind and onto his back only added to the feeling that he was a walking present. Put a card on him saying ‘from Santa’ and the whole thing would be done. It…

It filled him with sadness again to think how much his sister would have loved this. She was really good at… well, folding things, he supposed, and she loved dressing up. She'd have glowed like an angel.

With that wonderful new burst of depression and Jordan radiating resentful cuteness, the two of them made their way out of the ‘dojo’ before Jordan froze at the exit.

“Oh no.” He said. It was… quiet. A whisper really. An admission.

Kioko turned to glare at him as they were still supposed to be silent after all, but when she saw Jordan trembling her gaze lightened.

Only to then turn murderous.

She hissed at him, “Why the fuck didn’t you go before?”

“S-sorry.”

They got undressed, and Kioko led Jordan to the bathroom where he emptied his… other tank of the consequences of tea.

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After an indeterminate amount of time, as such unspeakable events shouldn’t be measured or acknowledged where possible, Jordan was redressed and walked through the door of the changing room ‘dojo.’

On the other side of the door was another garden. This one, however, did not have the rather obvious signs of Kioko’s displeasure, and the small stone path winding between the green landscape was peaceful with the sounds of a small stream nearby. It reminded him of—

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

*Thunk*

It… it reminded him of a serene bamboo forest, of all things. The greenery had a wild nature to it, sure, but by magic or unseen hands it was trimmed and controlled. There was genuine attention to detail in this place. It—

*Thunk*

Jordan winced again as he followed Kioko. They sat on a wooden bench, old and gnarled but colorful in its own way. It had a hand crafted feel, a sense of authenticity to its imperfections that machined goods lacked. Nearby, he saw a doorway leading into another section of the house. He wasn’t sure why they had to sit and wait, but he—

*Thunk*

“What the hell is that?” Jordan hissed out, jumping like a startled deer but trying to remain quiet.

“SHH!” Kioko’s shush was more of a full body hiss of annoyance at him, causing Jordan to flinch dramatically. He looked around trying to figure out what the fuck was thunking about when—

*Thunk*

He saw a little spigot-piece of wood, catching on some dribbling water. Oh, of course. It’s one of those… er, water catcher things?

He’d seen variants of it before. A device designed to catch water, and then once full enough, it would swing down pouring the water out. He’d had a toy bird that did something like that as a child, and he supposed this kind of thing was exactly in line with where he was. The little bit of wood filled up and—

*Thunk*

Jordan still flinched. How the hell was that supposed to be peaceful!?

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After an additional amount of indeterminate time, due mostly to his inability to keep track of said time, the two of them were greeted by Rahm opening the garden’s far door. He stepped out, also wearing his own robe, looking… well, better than his previous Dr. Lebowski look, Jordan supposed, but still somewhat odd with his sunglasses and wildly spiky hair.

Kioko stood up to greet him with a bow, and Jordan followed suit, only realizing after a moment how it was his new sense of etiquette guiding him. Rahm retreated inside, and the two of them followed in his wake, still remaining quiet.

Once inside, Kioko and he dropped off their sandals (that he’d only been allowed to wear for the garden) and went to the far side of the room as Rahm continued further inside. Jordan tailed Kioko and they both used a wash basin to clean their hands and rinse their mouths. While there, Kioko directed Jordan to a vial that she motioned for him to drink.

Hoping he wasn’t about to experience the universe folding in on itself in another Essence-fueled acid trip, Jordan drank the mysterious concoction. It was a clear, filmy substance but it didn’t taste bad. In fact, it didn’t taste like much at all. It coated his mouth like an oil, before suddenly, filling his mouth with that feeling.

Jordan’s eyes went wide with panic and disgust as it felt like he was suddenly swishing baby oil he couldn’t get rid of. The only reason he kept from screaming was from his damn etiquette ability. Looking back up at Kioko in betrayal, she only nodded at him and motioned for him to follow her. Why the hell didn’t she drink any of this crap? Are they just fucking with me now!? Jordan lamented with an oily scowl as he followed the cat-girl.

Stepping past a sliding paper wall, they reached Rahm, who was sitting on his knees in the room next to a small kitchen set. It was complete with a small pot of liquid sitting above a flame. Joining him on the floor, Jordan sat on his knees as well if only because it seemed about the only thing he could do in his ridiculous garment. Using a wooden ladle, Rahm filled a small bowl and handed it to Kioko.

She bowed in thanks, and politely brought the dish up to her face to inspect it. After seemingly satisfied, she took a drink, making a show of it in Jordan’s mind, before lowering it down. She picked up a cloth, wiped the sides clean, rotated the bowl slightly in her hand and passed it to Jordan with another bow. He assumed it was to prevent shared sipping spots, which he appreciated—he didn’t care to have an indirect kiss with the slush.

Holding the bowl in the same manner he’d seen the cat-girl do after returning her bow and bowing to Rahm, he brought it up to drink only to pause. He wasn’t sure why, and while he waited for a clue on what to do next, he examined the bowl inquisitively.

It’s really beautiful, he thought with a glassy-eyed expression. While it was only a humble white porcelain, with a few jade patterns thrown in, it had that same quality to it the Crown did. A sense of… purity? Cleanliness? It was suffused into the material, and shown with a wondrous, yet humble light. He brought the dish up to his mouth, breathed in the warm air coming from it, and took a sip. The liquid was like nothing he’d ever tasted.

Literally, it was like nothing. It was completely tasteless! Nothing but a bland, miscellaneous liquidy texture in his mouth. Water would have had a stronger taste than the substance sitting in his oral cavity. He couldn’t even tell if it was hot or cold! It just… just was.

He swallowed, confused beyond measure as he brought the bowl down and wiped it clean as he’d seen Kioko do. Handing it back to Rahm with another small bow, the old man took it and left the room.

After a few minutes of quiet, Rahm re-entered and added a bit of charcoal to the fire, before sitting before the two of them. He placed two sets of hands together, bowed once more, and then… smiled.

“Well, are you excited Aury? This is gonna be a pretty big day for you!”

“Ugh, I hope you’re exaggerating Master. It’s almost night already, you know?” The cat girl stretched dramatically, somehow not disrupting the robes beneath. More magic fuckery?

“Uhh, so we can talk now?” Jordan answered his own question. “Okay, cool. So, ah, what all does this entail? Also, wait… why am I not…er.”

How do I phrase ‘convulsing in drug-induced ecstatic euphoria’ in polite company?

“Ah, that. Kioko should’ve had you drink the taste inhibitor I left out to block the effects of the tea’s Essence on your, er, composure. Based on your coherent state, I assume you drank it.” The old man chuckled.

“Yeah, I did. Is… is that why the tea tasted so… not tasty?”

Rahm nodded, his hair bristling dangerously with sparks making Jordan slightly recoil in fear.

“S-so, wait,” Jordan asked, “how does not being able to taste essence, or whatever, stop it from knocking me the hell out?” That’s not how drugs work… is it?

“It’s how Debuffs work, kid.” Kioko jumped in. “Unless the Essence you take in is shaped as a dispelling effect or is powerful enough to overcome the Status’ strength, it’ll just roll off you.”

“Uhhh, can you put that in Old Tongue?” Jordan had meant to say English, of course, but surprised himself by saying something… dumb instead? He wasn’t even sure at this point.

Rahm, however, howled with laughter, apparently thinking that was a great joke. “That could only really help, eh? Ahahah!”

“Er, yeah.” Jordan blushed. “Seriously though, I get what the term debuff means and all, but your explanation made no sense.”

The cat-girl glared at him, her tail bouncing against the underside of her robe notably. “Look, it’s just how the damn shit works, okay brat?”

“Now, now, Kioko,” Rahm waved reassuringly twice over, “she just wants to understand. Have some patience, would you?”

“That's rich from you, Master. Why don’t you explain it then?”

“Sure, sure.” Rahm said. “Aury, when it comes to Status Effects, like Debuffs and what have you, they affect you in many ways. There’s many that affect the way you sense the world around you, like Confusion or Blindness. In reality, they convince you that you’re confused or that you can’t see. Anything that did more than that would usually be counted as a Condition, as it would be a more permanent effect.”

“Is this just more categorical nonsense?” Jordan accused him. “So like, what, if someone stabs your face and you get blinded that’s a condition, but if a spell or whatever hits you it’s a status effect?”

“Exactly!” Rahm nodded, before flashing four thumbs up. “Full marks!”

Jordan glared in response, before getting a worried look. “Wait, I’m not like, permanently tasteless now, am I?”

Kioko snorted, but Rahm answered him after a chuckle. “No, no, what you’ve got there is a Status Effect—it’ll wear off. But your Essence Sensitivity is a Condition you have that isn’t going away anytime soon, and it’s based on how you perceive the ingestion of Essence. By stopping you from perceiving it during ingestion, we stop you from turning into a wiggling worm for an hour, ahaha!”

“Er… great. Thanks, I guess. Wait, why do we even need to have essence here? Is this part of the cultivation stuff?”

“It is.” Rahm nodded. “We’re going to be using the standard Mandala Cultivation method, scaled up to suit my needs of course, so we need to prep your body for Essence saturation, so you don’t, ah, explode or anything.”

“Wait, what!?”

“Calm down, kid.” Kioko soothed. “He’s just being an ass. It’s more that your body is leaking ambient Essence that could disrupt the flow in the room, so he’s just pre-aligning your Pattern to fit the method. Think of it like cleaning off before getting into a hot spring so you don’t dirty it.”

“O-oh. Oh! I actually get that analogy! Er, for once.”

“Good for you.” Kioko deadpanned.

“Aha… yeah.” Jordan’s cheeks were burning. “I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, ehem! Anyway, so… cultivation method? What do I have to do, or whatever?”

“Well, when it comes to cultivation,” Rahm answered, “there are four aspects of your Core we’ll be addressing today. Your Potency, Control, Circuit, and Spirit, in that order. Think of it as the power of your Core, its finesse at moving Essence, it’s reactivity and flow of Essence, and then finally its ability to withstand the pressures of Essence. As a side note, the more we work on this Core of yours the better that Essence Sensitivity should get, eh? Ahaha!”

“Yay me. Woo.” Jordan intoned sardonically. Sadly, this just seemed to spur the old man on.

“Exactly! Though, normally of course, this is done over months and months of training. In the future you’ll do things the more traditional way, but for now… well, we’re just going to do our best to shape your Core all at once and hope we can put it all back together after it shatters a few times in the process. Sound good?”

“You’re… joking. Right?” Jordan turned to Kioko. “Is he joking about that? I seriously can’t tell.”

“Sadly not, kid. It pissed me off, but I’m glad you went before we got here. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Oh god. W-what does shattering my core mean? Are we… can I change my mind? I think I’ve changed my—”

Jordan was unceremoniously grabbed by the nape of his neck and lifted, before being carried towards the side of the room where, presumably, his next fresh hell awaited.

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The wall slid open to reveal darkness. It stretched, hanging in front of him, with that same sense of impossible scale he’d come to expect from the Celestial City.

With the first step inside, the ground ignited brilliantly, traveling light circuits spreading across the floor. The vague outline of a circle came into being, only to begin doubling back on itself. It cycled, back and forth, each time growing brighter and more complex as sigils and endless prayer script lit up with it, until the entire floor itself seemed to be solid light.

As the room was illuminated, Jordan quickly realized that was all there was to the room. The walls were bare, smooth, and reflective. They rose several stories into the air before the ceiling arched away, forming a giant dome without any fixtures. Like standing inside a snow globe, lit from the inside revealing a world of shadows beyond.

“Like it, eh? Good! I spent enough decades making the darn thing.” Rahm laughed as he strode across the light-floor, with Kioko following behind. Jordan… didn’t though. He couldn’t.

The floor was alive. Not in a sense that he’d ever attribute to actual living things. It wasn’t moving, or shifting, or breathing. It was just solid light after all the lines etched into its surface had lit up.

But it was speaking to him. Like the contract had, like the Train of Art. Not with words, but with emotions. He could see a world... beyond words laid out in front of him in the prayers written down. And it was...

It was one of the worst experiences of his life.

“Aury, why are you hangi—”

“Is she crying?”

“Hey, hey now, are you okay sweetie?” Rahm and Kioko rushed back to Jordan, whose face had transformed into a solid flow of water interrupted only by heaving sobs.

“What’s wrong?” the old man asked Jordan, but Jordan stared back up at him and asked him a question of his own.

“How? How can you even still be going if you…” He knew on some level, that the emotions he felt in the Mandala before him had come from the one who’d made it. There were so many sigils and scripts, so small Jordan could barely have read them but still he felt them. They carried the man’s thoughts. His feelings. His pain.

Rahm’s pain.

“Oh. I, ah, I didn’t know you had a Skill like that.” Rahm examined Jordan’s features. “You can’t turn that off can you?”

“Is that a permanent Skill or a Talent? Where wou—” Rahm raised a hand to cut off Kioko.

Jordan threw his arms around the old man. “I-I can’t. I can’t! Please… please I’m—”

The old man who had etched in lines a thousand times and in a thousand different ways, each a testament to just how much… he wanted to die.

Jordan knew this kind of pain. He understood it more than any other emotion really. It had plagued him his entire life, and it had consumed his father and brother. He’d been forced to endure it over and over again in the last few days, and now, he saw it in this stranger before him. An old man that… threw himself into harm's way without a care. As though challenging world to do the impossible.

It wasn’t fair! Couldn’t he go a single day in this new life without being reminded of this? Couldn’t he just be free of it for one happy moment?

Would he ever be free of his desire to repent?

Rahm wrapped his arms around Jordan and patted him gently. “I’m sorry Aury. I… I didn’t know you’d be able to see this. We’ll, ah, we’ll get you a blindfold, okay?”

Jordan had to be carried out of the room. Away from the text bleeding in the world, reflecting sorrow in his mind. All he could do was babble about how sorry he was, and beg the old man to not give up. To… tell him all the things he’d wanted to tell his father and his brother, but never could.

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