[https://i.imgur.com/XIuWq83.gif]
CHAPTER 7: MOP & TRAUMA
< MAIN POV >
I hold onto Grisal’s arm to try and not be strangled to death, even as he hoists me off the floor. My feet are flailing uselessly below me.
I cough and choke out a nervous laugh. “Hehehe… A sword? What sword? Never heard of any sword. You had something like that, old man? Maybe you lost it? It’s not surprising to start forgetting stuff at your age–argh!” His grip tightens.
I doubt your shifting eyes and trembling voice were very convincing.
On whose side are you?!
The winning one.
…are you ever on mine then?
I’m only teasing.
The tip of the Grisal’s mop stick caresses the tip of my nose – setting it on fire… the nose… not the mop.
…
……
………
“HOT!!” I pat frantically at my cute little nub with the hand that’s not grappling at the old man’s arm. “Not my face again! You old man! Madman!! Mould man! Shrivelled old prune! Mean person! Evil! Evil mouldy shrivelled old mean prune person! You can torture me all you want. I will never cave!”
The mop gets closer to me again.
“I CAVE!! I get it! I’ll give it back! I’ll give it back!” I instantly cave. “Just stop burning my face— ouch!”
That crabby old goat dropped me on the floor!
That’s racist.
…Sorry, Appleseed. That wasn’t against you.
But, ow, my poor, poor bottom.
Poor sexy buttocks.
…
Don’t deny it.
Did I say something?
I stand up, rubbing my sore bottom, and pout at the old man. He looks back without a hint of remorse in his steely eyes. Victoria uses [Adorable Puppy-Dog Eyes]. It’s super ineffective!!
What a stone.
Does he even have a heart?
Did you call yourself adorable?
Don’t deny it.
Did I say something?
A glance at Thena tells me not to expect any help from her. She must have accurately understood the situation from Grisal’s words and actions. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure her straight-laced personality won’t abide by my definition of ‘borrowing’.
Under their combined glares, I kneel into a curled ball and grumble whiningly. “Booh… Everyone’s ‘gainst me… not fair… all… mean…”
Nevertheless, I open my inventory. Amongst the crowded honeycomb alveoli—Eh. Really crowded, now that I look at it. Even with all the possible inventory extensions in the game, I’m running out of space. I should drop by my safe to empty this thing—Oh, and fetch shoes. Shoes that actually fit. Maybe sunglasses? Do I have sunglasses in there? Oh, OH!! And a new dress! I have that enchanted wedding dress stashed somewhere in that safe, don’t I? Would that be a bit much to wear on a second date? Assuming today’s festival shopping counts as a date—
Nick. Sword.
Oh. Right, right… Of course. Err…
I eventually spot the compartment holding the pseudo-holy sword I ‘borrowed’ from Master Grisal when I fled— I mean, when I left Start all these months ago. Hahaha. Silly mental typos. *cough*
I smile nervously at the glaring retired Sun Knight. “I meant to give it back… really… hahaha…” Reaching into the translucent inventory, I grab onto the half-solid hilt of the sword and start pulling it out. But just as I feel it’s about to materialise fully, I pause. A bad foreboding feeling is creeping up my spine. I glace at the old man. “Err… Maybe, could I not—” He shoots me a glare. “Okay, shutting up now.”
With a quick fearful prayer to Cake, I pull out the sword.
[ Light Damage –22HP ]
“FU-URGH!!!”
As soon as the holy weapon exits my inventory, a flash of burning hot, angry amber light sears my retina. Pain stabs through my skull and bursts inside my forearm. I drop the sword, shoving my right hand between my thighs to smother the scorching pain. Princess Victoria McGhost doesn’t appreciate the assault either.
“AAAAARGH!!!”
My eyes hurt. I can barely see a thing. It’s all blurry – either damage or tears. Every exposed surface of my body feels as if I just bathed in boiling water. My head hurts as if Thor had hit it repeatedly with its hammer. I roll on the floor, trying in vain to escape the pain. “Holy jobbernoddle! Stupid, stinking, useless purifying kitchen knife!! After all the polishing I did for you! Fuck!!”
That traitorous sword really did a number on me!
Fuck! What is wrong with this game’s pain settings?!
That’s my line!
“Baaaaaaaeeeeeh!!”
*tutu*
Your familiar has suffered irrecoverable damages and died. Again. You truly are a terrible owner!
“Oh, fo’f’sake!”
Blinking and twitching, I banish the window and try to distinguish my surroundings through black spots and splotchy tears. I can vaguely recognise a puppy quivering on the ground, yapping pitifully and holding his stomach where the managem resides. Next to him… a pile of ashes.
Appleseed.
Aw, damn.
And I’d just re-summoned her too.
She is unlucky, isn’t she?
“WHAT is the meaning of this?!” Loud, cold, furious words suddenly petrify me, relegating the pain to a secondary concern for an instant. Grisal stands over me, holding the holy sword. His hands are shaking. I think they are. It’s still hard to tell details. Also, he’s holding the broken half of a holy sword, rather than the entire thing.
I never did find the second half after defeating the soul dragon defending Victoria’s tower.
Grisal’s burning eyes nail me in place, mouth opening and closing in a fury, at a loss for words. “You… You… IDIOT BROKE the Unbreakable Sword of Solaris?!” He’s literally fuming – I mean, literally. His eyes have turned into two solid orange orbs filled with a burning inner glow, and smoke is coming out of his ears.
It’d be funny if it were any less terrifying.
I shamelessly point at Toto. “He did it!” The puppy’s head snaps up. He barks in protest, giving me the stink-eye. I feel it through the familiar bond more than I see it.
But it’s true! He’s the one who broke the sword, back when he wasn’t a cute fluffy puppy but still a mighty annoying ghostly lizard. Truly, I’m not to blame. In fact, he owes me for this.
But Grisal objects to my defence. “DON’T BLAME IT ON THE DRAGON, YOUR INCONCEIVABLE HALF-WIT!!” Before anyone can react, a mop sweeps down on my head, dropping me to the floor.
*smack!*
[ Mop trauma –15HP ]
[ Floor trauma –2HP ]
How is that even a thing?
“Owowowow—” Grisal’s mop readies for another strike. Panic twists my guts. “Wait! Wait! Time-out! I’ve only 3HP left! I’ll die! I’ll really die this time!”
Gisal doesn’t seem to care. “How in the name of Sun did you break a blessed, divine, self-regenerating sword in HALF?!” He snaps again.
I think he’s really angry this time.
Ya think?!
Fudge this. I’m out of here.
I try to crawl away, unable to do much more.
Still, I can’t stop myself from raising an argumentative finger, even as I crawl one-handedly. “In my defence, the name is misleading! What ‘Unbreakable’ Sword of Solaris? It damn well broke!”
“Unworthy disciple!” the old man roars. “It’s not about the name! It’s about wielding it properly! It’s not a glowing poker!”
“It’s not?”
“RAAAAAAAARHG!! Irreverent imbecile!”
Yep. He’s truly furious. The only other time I ever saw Grisal this mad was when I accidentally melted his old armour.
You have to admit, that was a stupid thing to do.
But I crafted a nice vase out of it…
From subtle changes in the ambient energy, I sense another magically-charged blow coming. “Fluff.” I swear softly, knowing I’m powerless to block it and that I’m going to die.
First the Sun. Now this?!
And I was doing so well lately!
It’s too unfair—
*TWACK-crack!* Two simultaneous sharp sounds, the impact of wood on metal and a snapping twig, breaks my train of thoughts.
…
Eh. I ain’t dead.
That’s unexpected.
Surprised to be alive, I squint to pierce the darkness encroaching my vision. Amongst the black spots, I see a bigger, more handsome black spot – Thena’s broad back blocking Grisal’s way.
“I think that’s enough.” Her words cut the abrupt silence like a cold scalpel. Never before have I heard her sound so devoid of emotions. I shiver – and not in a good way. This feels wrong on so many levels. For one, the creepy split personality act is kind of my thing.
“This isn’t your place to butt in, beast.”
Fuck you, you bigoted shithead.
“Old man, do you get off beating people who cannot fight back?” Again, Thena’s delivery feels like cockroaches crawling under my skin.
“Bah! Who cannot fight back? Beast, do you have any idea the calamities this unworthy disciple of mine has unleashed in the past?”
Athena doesn’t answer, but I feel her tense through the bond that links us.
Before she does something we’ll both regret – mostly her, though – I force myself to stand. Shaky on my legs, I stumble forwards. My head hits cold metal, Athena’s armoured back. I wrap my arms around her large waist – as much as a hug as me trying not to fall. I take a deep breath.
“Thenaaaaa! I’m tired! Carry me!”
“……”
“Also, I’m thirsty! Thenaaa! I want a snack!”
“…….”
Silence meets my words – long, stretched-out silence.
“Thenaaaaaaaaaa!”
“I hear you. Stop shouting.”
I almost whooped with joy hearing her voice back to normal. But I don’t, because I’m truly tired and thirsty and hurting. I think, if I move, I’ll trip and die from hitting the floor.
It's happened before.
I peek around my Thena’s back and glare at the mean old man, pulling down my eyelid and sticking out my tongue. Grisal frowns, visibly cross. He looks down at his broken mop, shakes his head, and takes a deep calming breath that quickly turns into a tired sigh. “I’m getting too old for this…” My enhanced hearing catches his mumble, as my ears appear the only parts of me still working properly.
“Look… sir.” Thena slowly says, adding the title reluctantly.
She’s too well-behaved for her own good.
“She gave back your sword, and you said yourself it would regenerate. Even if we player can come back, killing her is going too far.” I smile smugly, but then she glares at me. “Also, Vicky, apologise.”
What?! That bastard almost killed us! No way we’re—
“Sorry.”
Nick!
I do it for her, not for him.
…whatever.
“Sorry for what?” Thena pressures me.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“…sorry… for stealing your sword, and breaking it…”
He’s still glaring at me.
“…and for melting your armour back then, and freezing your beard, and setting your bed on fire, and replacing your toilet seat by a mimic, and cursing your underwear by mistake,” I did offer him an expensive cream to remedy the soreness, “…and for burying you a few times under book avalanches… Err, that’s all I can recall. …Sorry?”
Grisal raises an eyebrow at me.
What? Is that so weird that I apologise?
Thena too is looking at me weirdly.
But I think her reasons are different.
“…tsk.” After another few awkward seconds of staring, Grisal clicks his tongue and turns back to Thena. “I would punish you for your insolence, half, but keeping that one company,” he jerks his chin in my direction, “should be punishment enough.”
I want to feel offended, but Thena nods pensively, and now I’m only left feeling depressed.
Hoy, I’m at Death’s doors here! A bit of compassion, please!
An imaginary mini-me imaginarily pats me on the head in my imagination.
There, there.
It doesn’t help.
There, there.
“But I suppose you’re right.” Grisal raises the broken sword. It disperses in particles of light that are then absorbed by his body. He glances at me again, briefly. “This has been unpleasant.” Shaking his head and mumbling to himself, he walks to the bucket and picks it up.
He quickly shots a glance back at Appleseed’s ash-pile. His eyebrow twitches and the pile burst into flames, disappearing in an instant. Thena tenses and I smile a cramped smile.
He’s still the same neat freak as ever too.
Does he even need that mop, though? I’ve never seen him use it, other than to beat people up.
There are questions better left unasked. Rule 239.
Grisal is about to leave, but he stops, seeming to consider something. Once again, he looks at me. “Stupid disciple.”
Is that my official title now?
Careful. You might get a Title out of it.
Don’t jinx it!
Staring warily at the old man, I hug Thena tighter and half hide behind her. Grisal snorts. “For some reason, Sun still favours you. In respect to my goddess, I’ll make you an offer. Find your replacement to be my successor, and I shall give you some information you might find useful. After that, we’re done… don’t bother me again.” He turns around. “Good riddance.”
And, suddenly, he’s gone. Not a flash. Not a sound. Not a ripple in the air. Just… gone.
No. You, good riddance!
*ting*
New Quest: Fill Your Old Spot
Background Anthony Grisal, Solar Commander, last living member of the once powerful Holy Order of the Sacred Sun, has gladly given up on you as a successor after you broke the greatest taboo of the order – and for being an overall pain in his old, wrinkly butt. However, as a special favour, he offers you information in exchange for finding your replacement as his disciple.
Objective Find a suitable candidate for the class of [Solar Knight]. Conditions: unclassed lvl. 10, or neutral knight class, or light-aligned cleric type – or similar.
Success Condition: Bring a suitable, willing candidate to Grisal. Failure Condition: Fail to bring anyone before Grisal dies. (He’s old, it’ll happen eventually.) Reward: Information on the Great War.
So, basically, to get that information, and hopefully unlock the full powers of the Vampire Progenitor, we have to find a successor for an ancient order wielding the power of sunfire whose main purpose is to annihilate vampires?
…basically.
I can see nothing going wrong with that.
……
You think he figured out we’re the one who released vampires into the world?
Pray that he didn’t.
“Ugh… Burnt… Hurt… Mean old… bastard… kill…”
I hear you, princess. I hear you.
Someday.
Soon.
…™.
“…hurts…”
Yes, yes. Don’t worry. The mean old man won’t hurt you anymore.
“…kill…”
Patience.
“………kill…”
…Is it me, or is the mad princess poltergeist pouting?
“…………am not…”
Oh, lord, she’s getting more responsive. Did the old fart’s aggression somehow rouse her?
…If I get any more voices in my head, I’m going to start charging rent.
“I’m not even going to ask…” I look up hearing Thena sigh. Holding me up with one hand, she turns around and unequips her armour. She almost shoves her forearm into my face. “Let’s get this over with. We wasted enough time already.”
She sounds upset. Well, she always does. But I’m getting better at sorting out the different flavours of anger. She is bothered by something – I can tell. And I’m still pondering what her earlier shift was about. It freaked me out. It did. I’m glad my improvised distraction worked.
Because it was suuuuch a master plan.
Oh, shut up. You wouldn’t come up with anything better.
…I could…
Right.
“……liar…”
Humph. Well, her vocabulary certainly didn’t improve.
Stop being catty.
Looking at the green, thick arm before me, I hesitate for an instant, but Thena’s glare and my red-flashing HP bar quickly convince me. I bare my fangs and sink them into her welcoming flesh.
Fast, I lose myself in the bliss of feeding.
I’ll refrain from ever mentioning Thena’s moans to her.
I don’t want to lose the HPs I just regained.
And then some.
“…smashed to death…”
………I wish the feeding relieved mental fatigue too.
* * *
Feeling much refreshed, I detach myself from a flushed semi-orc. Thena is gritting her teeth. Guess she noticed her moans too as well. Still not mentioning them though.
“Done?” she asks. I glance at my interface and merely nod, a bit sheepish. A quick check in the mirror confirms that my burned forehead and nose are almost back to their normal, smooth chalk whiteness. Toto hops on a table, then on Thena’s shoulder. I glare at him, but he snubs me.
Annoying bugger.
“…bad doggie…”
“……” I can only rub my forehead tiredly.
Thena’s gaze falls where Appleseed used to be.
“I’ll be able to summon her in 24 hours,” I supply to her unspoken question.
She nods. “Let’s go. …I hope she didn’t leave already.”
I dust my dress and hurry after her. “So, who exactly are we meeting? You only said she could help decipher the code. How do you know her in the first place? A friend? Old party member?” My eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. “Former love—”
“Enough.” A glare charring enough to vaporise lava stops me from even finishing the word.
So, is that a ‘yes’?
I drag an imaginary zipper across my lips. Thena grunts, turns around and walks faster. Behind her back, I smirk and follow, mentally high-fiving myself. Somehow, I manage to keep up with her thanks to the temporary post-feeding boost.
We pass through several rooms, each different and strange in its own way. Moving furniture, living crystal trees growing out of the paved floor, flocks of snurgles flying around – which we prudently didn’t disturb. One room with books discussing marine biology was entirely submerged. A force field at the doors kept the water inside, and magic bubbles appeared around us as soon as we crossed the threshold. Fishes eyed us as we walked past; a couple of mermaids waved; but none bothered us.
Eventually, we reach a rather normal room – normal by the standards of the Library.
It is huge, several football fields at least, mostly empty, and also filled with inky blackness. Even my dark vision cannot pierce further than a dozen feet away. The floor is solid, but our footsteps are eerily muffled.
One of two exceptions to the darkness is the faintly glowing bookshelves scattered randomly around the room, each impossibly tall and disappearing upwards to an unseen ceiling. Equally long ladders lay against them to get to the higher books. The second exception is the round tables distributed across any open space, each with a light source floating above it.
Not angst-inducing at all.
What matter of eldritch demon is Thena bringing us to see?
As we progress into the room, it appears all the tables are devoid of occupants. Until, after clearing one of the glowing bookshelves, we find one that isn’t.
Surrounded by piles of heavy tomes and ancient parchments, a high elf woman is poring over a book. Even from a distance, her pale face, gleaming blond hair and ethereal beauty peculiar to her race are unmistakable. Also, high elves have slightly longer ears than their lesser peers – amongst a few other distinctive traits that, if you know what to look for.
A focused frown creases her forehead as her eyes flicker over the pages, and her quill draws precise notes in a small notebook, her concentration never wavering. She didn’t even glance up when we entered, nor as we approach.
From up close, I’m surprised to see visible age marks on the elf’s face, enough to resemble a human in her late thirties – when most of her race looks around twenty. This means she is either a preposterously ancient elf NPC – older than even the current elven empress – or a player who for some reason chose to build her avatar this way.
I can’t deny that it fits her serious atmosphere and gives her a certain adult charm. Instead of the enticing diaphanous togas her kind usually favours, she wears an elegant but austere dress, and her French twist hairstyle almost perfectly matches my idea of what a strict elven librarian should look like.
So not a demon, after all.
She lacks the glasses, though. But unless they’re very much into roleplaying, I doubt any player would want to bother with an annoying accessory that slides down your nose whenever you lean down. I’ve also never met an elf with visual impairment, meaning no elf NPC would wear glasses either.
The woman doesn’t notice us until we stop by her side and Thena loudly clears her throat. Her head shoots up. Her expression is that startled daze of someone who’d been lost in their own world and didn’t expect to be brought out. By the annoyed furrow of her brows, she also doesn’t appreciate the interruption.
…Am I the only one who thinks we should avoid pissing off the multi-thousand-years-old high elf?
……yes?
That won’t do. I can’t keep being the voice of reason in this group. The universe might fall out of balance.
In any case, it’s quite rude to bother someone when they’re reading.
Even you think it’s rude?
Even I have my limits.
Thankfully, the elf’s expression does a complete one-eighty when she sees the big green girl I’m hiding behind—err, I mean, Thena, whom I’m following. Following. That’s it. Not hiding at all. I’m the Reckless Imbecile! Hahahaha. I have no fear for any potentially impossibly OP being. It would only be the third we encounter this week…
…
Okay. Maybe I’m a tiiiiny bit cautious. But you have to understand—
“E—AATHENA!!” the woman jumps out of her chair.
Hiiiiiiii!
DON’T GO SHOUTING OUT OF NOWHERE, WOMAN!! YOU NEARLY GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!!
…
Ahem. I mean… Oh, she does actually know Thena. How interesting.
You’re not fooling anyone.
I’m still a little tense from meeting Grisal, okay?
I observe the elf’s face as she moves in to hug my Thena. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bright smile on a woman since the day I bought Yasmin that overly pricey, multi-function punching bag she wanted for her birthday. It was outrageously expensive, but my life is worth this much.
Stop escaping reality.
From the sidelines, I watch with a wry grin as the elf comically tries to wrap the imposing semi-orc in a hug. Even out of her armour, Thena is quite massive – which I wouldn’t have any other way, of course. Though high elves are themselves tall, the imbalance between the pair is still enough to be funny.
You’ saying, shorty?
No comment.
Thena’s face when she awkwardly returns the hug is priceless as well. She glances at me, her expression that of someone who just realised something troublesome and doesn’t know how to react. I wipe off my budding smirk. Her eyes jump frantically between the older woman and me.
At last, with a resigned sigh and a quick warning frown my way, Thena shows the first smile I’ve ever seen her make – faint as it may be. My heart skips a beat… or six. There comes the heart attack! Thena’s smile is something so alien yet fascinating that I almost can’t process it.
I can now die happy.
Probably from a heart attack.
My only regret is that her smile wasn’t directed at me.
You’re overreacting again.
Barely.
However, before I can impulsively slit the elf’s throat out of vile bubbling jealousy from stealing what was rightfully mine, my semi-orc utters a statement that causes all my remaining brain cells to fry.
“Hi, Mum.”
…
……
…………uh?
Oh, shit.
* * *
[ SIMON RENOLDS ]
Simon stood in the doorway, his cold blue eyes surveying the Spartan bedroom. The blood red clock, a picture of himself on the nightstand, and the massive, altered gamepod were the only sidesteps from the bland hospital-issued furniture – all of it top of the line, of course, but depressingly impersonal. It would have angered him, if only he’d thought the girls cared even a little. As it was, no expression showed on his handsome face.
He walked quietly to the bed and sat beside the large bulge in the blanket. His gaze softened as it landed on the sleeping faces poking out from underneath the covers – two faces that belonged to a single, massive, misshapen head. Fifteen years after their birth, Lia and Lea Martinez continued to baffle medical experts.
Back then, it had made news for a while. A medical wonder, whose father allegedly was a rich and influential businessman who, of course, denied everything? Late Night had been all over it like a kettle of joke-starved vultures. No official DNA test was ever authorised, however, and the children’s mother eventually lost the court battle. Sabrina Martinez had been serving as a maid in the Renolds home seven months before the girls’ premature birth. She hung herself three months after the verdict.
Simon’s fingers ran through the girls’ scarce patches of brown hair, lost in thoughts. People used to marvel at how mature he’d been as a boy. But having to thwart your father’s plan to “dispose” of your half-sisters at the age of ten would force anyone to grow up faster. At least he’d had Sebastian.
“Mmh?” “Wha…?”
Four eyes fluttered open with disturbing synchronicity.
“Hey.” He spoke softly. “Glad to see the anticipation of my visit kept you awake.”
“Ughn… Sims?” “Onii-chan!” Lea rubbed her eyes groggily while Lia flung them at him. He hugged them back and landed a kiss on both their foreheads.
“How’s my favourite little hydra doing?” An irritated meow interrupted before either sister could answer. Three pairs of eyes converged down to the little white beast still in its bag and squashed between the half-siblings.
“Kitty!” Lia, always the chipper twin, nearly burst the others’ eardrums. Lea groaned and twisted a pinkie in the ear on her side while Lia pestered her brother. “Is it yours? How old is it? What race is it? Is it a boy? Can I hold it?”
“Slow down! Slow down.” Simon laughed. “Yes, about thirteen weeks, a white Persian, yes, and of course you can. Here—be careful.” He handed over the little beast, who kept struggling, biting, scratching, and hissing the entire time. As soon as it settled in the twins’ arms, it closed its tiny fangs on the fleshy part of their left hand. Through the bite didn’t break their skin. Lia giggled, while Lea answered the kitten’s mean-spirited glare with a disinterested look.
“What’s his name?” Lia asked curiously.
Simon scratched his head. “It doesn’t have one yet. I just got it very recently.” He smiled. “I thought you could name it.”
Lia’s face lit up. “Oh! OH!! I know! Oliver— no. Max! Silver! Or Whitey? Little Simon? Si Si? Doraemon! No, it’s not blue. Then Miss Chi! But it’s not a girl… Uuuuuuuh! It’s too hard!”
“Jack Whitechapel.”
““……”” Lea’s dull declaration was met with silence.
She looked at Simon and shrugged. “He’s white, and he looks like he wants to rip us to ribbons. It fits.”
“Meow.” Lia and Simon stared at the cat, whom for once looked somewhat pleased, then shared a glance, and the name was adopted.
“Onii-chan, why have you visited so little lately?”
“Lia,” her sister interjected.
“What? It’s true! Even that fat cow visited three times already this month!”
“Hey, hey, now.” Simon flicked her forehead. “Don’t talk about Daisy that way. She’s my fiancée. She just wants to be friends with you.”
Lia pouted, puffing her cheeks. “Humph. I don’t trust her.” She crossed their arms defiantly and turned away, bringing Lea’s neutral face in front of Simon.
“Don’t listen to her, Sims. She’s just acting jealous.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.”
Simon chuckled and rubbed their head. “If anything, I’m the one who should be jealous. I haven’t seen Daisy at all in the last six weeks.” For some reason, now Lia looked smug. He could only roll his eyes.
Lea met his gaze squarely. “That’s because you travel too much.”
“It’s for business, Lea.” The girl didn’t look convinced. He sighed. “Look, I know the past few months haven’t been easy, but soon everything will change for the better, okay?” He rubbed their head. “And I still see you often in the game. Have you been enjoying yourself playing Untold Tales? Sebastian told me you had problems with some of your familiars?”
Neither sister missed his unsubtle subject change. They glared in tandem, but otherwise let it slide. Lia started retelling everything that had happened in-game in the past week, while Lea focused on petting the spiteful kitten, sometimes interjecting into Lia’s excited monologue.
“So you think this Victoria could be an ally?” Simon caressed his smooth chin. He paused. Mmmh… Maybe I should grow a beard. Could I pull off the evil goatee?
“Mmmmaaaaaaaaybe?” Lia pouted, bringing his attention back to the conversation. “Vicky-sempai might join us if she were alone?” She shrugged helplessly.
“But I don’t think the half-orc would,” Lea continued.
“Probably not.”
“And Vicky-sempai…”
“…wouldn’t do anything…”
“…that her girlfriend…”
“…would not…”
“…approve—” Simon snapped his fingers on both hands in front of their faces.
“Girls, you’re doing it again.”
Both blinked. ““…ah.””
“So, should we try and break the pair up? It seems like we could use someone like her.”
The twins grimaced. “Sure. If you want to get your head blown up,” Lea deadpanned, dragging a thumb across their neck.
“I don’t want to get blown up,” Lia whispered. “Vicky-sempai is a total yandere.”
“She’s cool.”
““……”” Again, Lea’s declaration brought the conversation to a grinding halt.
She glanced at Simon. “What? Lia’s not the only allowed to be a giddy fangirl.” Her flat expression and delivery made it hard to imagine her as a giddy anything. But Lia had a small half-smile.
Simon raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. Alright. My bad. No breaking up the psychotic chick from her girlfriend. I get it.” His watch beeped, bringing a frown to his face. He sighed, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” He kissed both their foreheads again and winked at them. “I need to go chew Director Harris some to remind him who holds his balls in a jar. I know the old bastard has been talking to him lately.”
The Renolds Institute for Extraordinary Medical Cases had always been Simon’s pet project, one his father used to harshly criticise at every chance, calling it a waste of time and a money-sucking black hole. However – oddly enough – Simon Renolds Sr. had suddenly changed his tune when the facility began turning in a small fortune in patents.
And lately, Simon’s father had been subtly trying to dig his claws into Simon’s RIEMC. Though, not so subtly that his son hadn’t noticed. In truth, the young man’s all too timely – and expensive – kindness to Dr Harrold hadn’t been entirely out of the goodness of his heart. The good foreign doctor was part of the backbone of Simon’s little enterprise.
Standing, Simon returned the newly baptised Jack Whitechapel to his bag – aptly avoiding the kitten’s vicious paw swipe – and stepped towards the door.
“Sims.”
He paused and turned, looking back to the small deformed conjoined twins in the bland hospital bed. “Yes?”
“When will you be back?”
The question, asked in a dull voice, hung heavily in the silence of the bland bedroom.
Simon eventually forced a smile on his face. “I’ll come again soon, little hydra. Okay? But now, I really need to get going. See you?”
“Bye.” “Bye-bye!”
Simon turned on his heels, the smile dropping off his face, and walked out through the open door. Before he was completely out of earshot, he heard a flat whisper. “Liar.”
Business mask firmly in place, Simon Renolds Jr. marched towards the director’s office.
* * * * *