Cobalt probably should have guessed that the kitchens would be hot. The moment he stepped inside, the Incubus was blasted in the face with a wall of steam and humidity, stealing his breath away and briefly robbing him of the resolved confidence that had possessed him earlier. Leaning against the wall in order to steady himself, he was forced to quickly swerve out of the way as a pair of butlers rushed in after him, each carrying stacks of dirty dishes in their arms.

"This is a pretty complicated illusion," Lilith murmured as Cobalt did his best to avoid getting in the way.

"Nymphs usually can't sustain multiple complex constructs for long, or so I've read. This must be causing serious mental strain on Whitney."

"Seems like she's already under enough mental strain without all this."

"My thoughts exactly."

Venturing deeper into the steaming hive of activity, the Incubus clung to the walls as he watched a crowd of Whitneys hastily attend to the various appliances all around the kitchen, each wearing white cooking uniforms complete with neat caps and silver hairnets. They barked instructions at each other as they stirred pots and flipped pans, occasionally switching tasks with one of their colleagues. A steady stream of butler Whitneys carried out food and brought back dirty plates, while a few maids flitted about with washcloths and mops, cleaning as they went.

"Are we actually going to find any salt here? Isn't everything we're seeing fake?"

"We're still physically in the Brode's kitchen. I'm sure the ingredients in the pantry are real enough."

"And where's the pantry?"

"I'm... still figuring that out."

Carefully tiptoeing around the busy caterers, Cobalt carefully picked his way through the kitchens. Occasionally one of the cooks would shoot him dirty looks as he interrupted their work, and on more than one occasion they would bark at him to hand them a particular utensil or ingredient sitting on another counter. He did so without question, frowning as his fingers could barely register the feeling of picking them up.

This illusory world was beginning to lose its cohesion; Whitney must be growing fatigued.

"Sir? This is a staff only area," a butler Whitney piped, giving him a quizzical look as she dumped a pile of dirty plates into a sink.

"I'm just looking for the pantry," he responded, flinching as one of the cooks nearly nicked him with a kitchen knife.

"The pantry? For what reason?"

"I just need to know where it is."

Her confused look deepened, but she simply shrugged and wiped her gloved hands on a dishcloth.

"If you insist, sir. If you'd follow me...?"

She turned on her heel and began to lead him through the maze of ovens and counters, flawlessly slipping past the cooking staff while Cobalt nearly stumbled into all of them.

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying, you really should be back out in the dining hall. Lady Whitney and Madam Brode-"

"They'll be fine without me," the Incubus interjected.

The butler's ears twitched, sticking almost straight up, but she said nothing. Coming to a stop in front of a large wooden door, she turned the handle and pulled it open for him. Within was not a simple pantry, but rather a sizable larder. It was larger than his dorm room, and upon squinting through the gloom, he saw that it was taller as well, necessitating a pair of ladders to be installed on the walls.

"Wow..." he breathed, looking around the jam-packed shelves.

There was another Whitney in here; a maid holding a clipboard. She gave him a disinterested nod and continued to take stock of the food supplies available.

"Sir, I hate to rush you, but you really mustn't be in here," the butler sighed, nervously scratching at her neck.

Cobalt just raised a hand and approached the maid.

"Excuse me, but where do you keep the salt?" he asked politely.

She didn't glance up from her clipboard.

"Don't know. Haven't gotten around to it yet. You really shouldn't take things from here," she responded, reaching across to check the use-by date on a bag of flour.

"I can see why this one's on storecloset duty."

Frowning, Cobalt squinted as he peered all around the inside of the larder. Everything seemed to sorted neatly into categories, with cereals and grains taking up most of the bottom shelves. The next few rows were filled with canned goods, and the next was stocked with packaged goods that he couldn't make out from where he was standing. Taking a few steps back, he just about managed to make out a few white bags on the very top shelf that he recognised. The very same brand of salt that he had seen B.I.D.'s canteen staff refilling the table shakers with.

"There we go," he breathed, grabbing hold of a nearby ladder.

"Sir, wait! That's dangerous!" the butler Whitney cried, rushing into the larder.

By the time she reached the base of the ladder, Cobalt was already halfway up. Digging his sharp nails deep into the wood, he carefully ascended, doing his best not to miss a rung.

"Seems like a lot of food for a relatively small family..." he breathed as he climbed past the various shelves, keeping his wings spread for balance.

"The storehouse where I used to live was even bigger than this one, and it was only to feed three people," commented Lilith.

"Seems a waste."

"Yeah, well... Not much need for excessive food storage in Damnation. Mostly hog meat and fungus meal down there."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Cobalt grimaced. Lovely.

Reaching the top of the ladder, he held on tight and leaned over to grab the nearest bag of flour, only to find that it was a couple of inches too far. He cursed under his breath and shuffled over a bit, coiling his tail around the ladder. He tried not to look down, but he could feel the yawning drop between him and the ground; the larder looked much bigger from up here.

"Sir, please! I must insist that you come down!" the butler Whitney cried as her colleague continued to disinterestedly scribble on her clipboard.

"Almost have it...!"

Hooking one foot onto the rung, Cobalt reached out with the other and braced it against one of the shelves, causing a collection of condiment bottles to clink together worryingly. Reaching across, he just about managed to grab a bag of salt and safely carry it back over to the ladder.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Whereupon the rung he was standing upon snapped.

"Oh sh-!"

Holding the bag close to his chest, the Incubus shut his eyes as he plummeted through the air, his wings flapping ineffectually. The butler screamed as he struck the ground, a wave of pain pulsing through his entire body. Thankfully, he felt nothing break.

"Are you alright, sir?!" cried the butler, rushing to his side.

She grasped his shoulders and tried to help him up, but like every other illusion, her grip was week and her touch was barely registered. Cobalt just winced and grabbed one of the shelves in order to haul himself to his feet.

"Y- Yeah, I'm okay..." he sighed, checking to ensure that the bag of salt was intact.

Thankfully it was. As he looked it over, however, the maid Whitney tucked her clipboard under her arm and made to leave the larder, brushing past Cobalt as she did so.

Her shoulder was solid, physically pushing the Incubus back as she stepped back into the kitchen.

"Was that...?"

"That's her...!" Cobalt breathed, his eyes widening.

He tried to give chase, but the butler stepped in his way.

"Do you need anything? Shall I call you an ambulance?" she fussed, looking exceedingly worried.

"No, I'm okay, I need to get-!"

"Sir, you ought to rest in case you've broken something!"

"Nothing's broken! Look, I just need to-!"

"I'll call for help, just stay calm!"

"Agh~!"

Ripping open the top of the bag with an extended claw, Cobalt grabbed a fistful of salt from within and flung it at Whitney's illusory clone. As soon as the white grains made contact, flecks of yellow magic and tiny electrical sparks began to flash from her body, forcing the Incubus to take a step back. Bit by bit, the illusion of the butler Whitney fell apart, melting away into a formless mass of magic that faded away before his very eyes. Swallowing hard, Cobalt grabbed the bag tight.

"I only have so much, and I'm not likely to get back up there again," he said aloud, glancing up at the broken ladder.

"Then get a move on; you're losing her!"

"R- Right!"

With the bag of salt tucked firmly beneath his arm, the Incubus bolted out of the larder. Stumbling back into the kitchens, he ducked and swerved through the horde of cooks and serving staff, knocking over pots and sending plates crashing to the floor in his desperate bid to catch up with the maid. But through the miasma of steam, he had lost sight of her.

"She can't have gotten far!"

"I know, I know...!"

Leaping over a puddle of hot soup, Cobalt dashed towards the doors, nearly toppling to the floor as he burst through to the dining hall. Every Whitney turned to stare at him with wide eyes, with some dramatically holding their hands to their hearts. Gasping for breath, he straightened himself up and scanned the hall, searching for any sign of the maid he had been following.

Unfortunately, she had blended back into the crowd, becoming just one in a sea of many frilly-aproned Nymphs.

"Shit, shit, shit," Lilith swore as he slowly stepped out into the middle of the room.

"We'll find her," Cobalt told her, squinting at the servants dutifully standing to attention at the edges of the room.

Before he could make a start on sifting through the masses, however, he was alerted to the sound of footsteps strategically rushing towards him.

"Ah. There you are. Come to your senses yet, sir?"

"Hey, step off him! We had, like, an agreement, right?"

Walking almost in lockstep, Lady Whitney and Madam Brode strode up to Cobalt, standing before him with their arms crossed.

"Well~?" the gowned model asked, planting a hand on her hip.

He frowned.

"I told you I'm not discussing this any longer," he responded, tightening his grip on on the salt bag.

Sighing, her counterpart sighed and adjusted her hat.

"We've had a talk, and we're willing to offer you an alternative solution," Madam Brode said.

Cobalt narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah! Rather than ruin this fun party for, like, everyone, we had a great idea! Well, it was mostly my idea, but it's a good one!"

Lady Whitney clasped her hands and beamed at him.

"You can live with us here!" she laughed with a cock of her head.

As her voice echoed through the dining hall, all the other Whitneys began to applaud, spurring the other debutante to explain.

"This is a perfect world, one where everyone is happy. You'll have everything you need here, and both Lady Whitney and I have agreed to divide you between us. Best of both worlds, I suppose. I can promise you a prosperous and stable life, and she offers..."

Her voice trailed off as she narrowed her visible eye at her clone.

"A good time~" Lady Whitney purred with a wink.

"Of course. I'm sure between the two of us we can make you happy," the tailor sighed.

"Ahah! So c'mon sir; what's your answer~?"

Stay here? Live in the lap of luxury with two idealised versions of one of his students, tended to by countless of her clones in a recreation of her family home?

No.

Even if was sustainable, even if a part of him wanted to, even if any of this somehow made sense, Cobalt wouldn't take their offer.

Because no matter what they said, Whitney herself wasn't happy.

He plunged his hand into the salt.

"This."

With a sweep of his arm, Cobalt flung an arc of salt at the two debutantes. They gasped and tried to protect their faces, but it did little to save them. The white flecks burned straight through the illusions, scattering them into a thousand golden particles that melted to the floor before him.

The applause died. The music stopped. The chatter faded away to nothing. As the two ladies of the hour hissed away into nothing, Cobalt took a deep breath and scrutinised the crowd all around him. They stared back, but their eyes were dead and vacant.

"They all look the same," the Devil breathed.

Frowning, the Incubus pulled the photograph out of his pocket and focused on Whitney standing at the front. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the piercing glinting in the centre of his tongue.

"Hm..."

Tucking it away, Cobalt stalked across the dining hall, staring hard at each of the maids. Lilith wasn't wrong; they were each identical. Scraping the last of the salt into his fist, he suddenly ran up to one and raised his hand, ready to throw. She yelped and recoiled.

He took the opportunity to look inside her mouth. Her tongue was unpierced.

"S- Sir?!" she cried.

"Sorry about that," he breathed, turning away.

With a fistful of salt clenched tight in his hand, he stalked the ranks of the serving Whitneys. They nervously shuffled about and looked away as he approached.

"Everything alright, sir?" one of them asked bravely.

No piercing.

"Do you know where Whitney is?" he asked.

"I'm right here."

Right.

One by one, Cobalt spoke to each of the maids, scanning their tongues for that telltale glint of chrome. As he began to feel as though his theory wasn't as soon as he thought, he arrived at a maid who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Whitney...?" he breathed.

She lifted her head, but kept her eyes glued to the floor.

"... Just do it, sir..." she mumbled in a quiet voice, her shoulders slumped and her face listless.

Swallowing hard, Cobalt held his fist over the maid's head and slowly sprinkled the last of the salt over her. He heard the telltale hiss of illusory magic dissipating, but the Nymph didn't fade away. Rather, her hair changed colour and shortened in length as her uniform burned away to reveal a dull hoodie. Glancing down, he saw that her right hand was still there.

Swallowing hard, the Incubus reached over and took it in his own hand. As the lingering grains of salt dissolved the last of the illusion, he felt his fingers glance across hard plastic and wrap around cold metal.

It was a split hook prosthetic; brand new judging by the gleaming steel and unmarred casing. A wire linked the hooks to something further up along the prosthetic that disappeared into the sleeve of her hoodie.

She jerked her arm away, the movement of her shoulder causing the hook to snap shut.

"You found me," she mumbled, her hair falling in front of her eye as she peered up at him.

She looked so, so tired.

"... So what now?"