He was her Champion—but this was too unnatural.

I wonder how Kalender is doing… O-oh no. [+1 Affection]

This was too troublesome—not that it was fatal to her, but it annoyed her to no end, getting in the way of her doing her job.

Contrary to this mortal country’s ideation of how it worked, the effects of Affection did actually have variations. Its interactions with one’s soul were complex, but it did fall into some patterns. For the humans of Lyrica, who still clung onto traditional values, Affection drove them insane. For Minimine, she could reach past 100 Affection and simply lose her attention every so often.

… But it punctuated the shame she felt.

As it neared 100, it amplified every little anxiety. It blared a spotlight at the figure of a spider, of a cockroach, projecting a monstrous shadow behind it that skittered and crawled all over her. It was one thing to know that it was just a shadow of such a small thing, and another to actually listen to her better voice.

I must apologize, for—mouth’s shut. She didn’t want to mention it. Not now. Not like this. If she did … she would hate to be hated. She feared their hateful glares sticking to her at the moment of her confession. How would her followers react once she’d confessed to it? How would Kalender react? Not as if they could have done anything about it. I want to be a kind goddess, but she had already done an act of unkindness.

For that, she must, must apologize. Hopefully, her carefully composed words would help them find sympathy rather than issue. She had been rewording it in her mind, over and over, until it had turned into this twisted garble of self-pitying words.

I’m a pitiable goddess, to be done in by a bit of Affection like this.

Sigh. What to do… She looked up to Page, who had just finished running her battle-torn dress through the purifying bath, and was now wondering how to stitch the holes and rips together. Ah, right, this one must be close to Kalender.

After stealing back her dress, drying it, surprising Page with it, and telling her that she was, in fact, the Minimine, she proceeded to the next step of Operation: Gets ’Em Every Time: loosening up Page’s lips with a cup of wine.

Upon sipping the second best wine in this world and finally realizing that Minimine was actually a goddess—the mortal girl didn’t react nearly as surprised as Minimine guessed she would. She was … excited, like meeting her idol for the first time. If only her own followers acted just like this, it wouldn’t feel so awkward. Why can’t all of you just keep talking like this one? Immediate silence upon realizing my presence bothers me.

Page took a great liking to the wine, taking a swig of it with a satisfied pop. Minimine noted her quickly dilating pupils. That was fast. Well, it was divine wine, but it should’ve taken at least another cup for it to kick in…

Page got on her knees, monstrating, “Oh, my goddess! Oh, great provider!” She raised her cup. “Another one!”

Minimine giggled and condensed more wine, forming a puffy, dark red cloud over Page’s cup. Droplets of heaven’s taste poured in, and once the cloud had been squeezed dry and shrunken to nothingness, Page took the cup, gave thanks, said praise, and downed it all in one go.

This elicited another giggle from Minimine. Page put her cup down. “Another!”

Minimine held Page’s hand, magicking some of the alcohol out of her system, just to be sure she wouldn’t pass out too early—and pushed the cup down. “Speak openly with me.”

“Shoor, goddess!” Page’s slur worsened as the seconds passed.

“Please, just call me Minimine.”

“Goddess Minimine!”

“Please, just call me Minimine.”

“G-gah, uhh, Mi-mi-mi-me!” Page stopped, interrogating her last three brain cells for something less clunky to pronounce. “Mimi!”

Mimi? She tilted her head, but Page took this as an affirmative.

“You’re Mimi, noww!” Page hugged her. Unexpected, but not bad. Wait, there it is again. That feeling.

Page pulled away before Minimine could interrogate those feelings. “Soo, Mimii, whatchyawannatalkaboot?”

Minimine sat on the floor with her. “Are you close with Kalender?”

Page replied after a pause. “Good ’nuff!” She pouted. “Cuddle be better. Cuddle? Could? Could. Cuddle’s good, too…”

“Can you tell me something about him—”

“Stranger dangerr … but, but, nice, shows me cool stuffs. Ehe.” She thought back to a puddle of memories. It’s okay being around him, but … “Hmm. Something’s missing …”

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This wasn’t the reply Minimine was expecting, but she continued to listen.

“Mmmm—I dunno!” Not enough cells to brain with.

“Does he get mad?”

“Mmmmm—nahh.”

Thank goodness. “If I say sorry to him … do you think he’ll get mad?”

Page smiled, then enveloped Minimine in another hug. “Silly, silly, silly!” She laughed, and Minimine could feel the vibrations coming from her chest. Once she’d stopped laughing—she didn’t let go. She adjusted herself, finding the comfiest places to hold on to, and the comfiest places to rest her head.

“Truly, how silly of me…”

There wasn’t a reply from her conversation partner. Minimine shook Page a bit, but still, there was no reaction.

Asleep. She fell asleep. Resolving to apply a bit of healing magic later, Minimine moved Page, permitting her to lay on her lap in the meantime. She smiled at the mortal’s peaceful expression—ignoring the smell of divine wine at such an unholy hour of the day.

Page had hugged her. She still couldn’t get out of her mind, but at least it distracted her from thinking about Kalender.

The comfort of a hug, the depth of it—was there a way to ascertain these things?

Ugh, her thoughts wavered back to the apology she had yet to make. If only she didn’t have to speak at all to convey it…

***

For the first time, in a long time, Page stretched, yawned, and generally enjoyed the process of waking up.

Wait, why do I feel great?!

She shot straight up and scanned the room. She was on a cushioned bench in the same bath that she was in just a while ago. She remembered she was washing Minimine’s dress, figuring out how to fix it, and then … Huh? I don’t remember anything.

“How do you feel?”

She turned around, seeing Minimine seated where her head had been laying. She looked down at her lap, then up to her soft smile. Somehow, her dress didn’t have any rips or holes in it, anymore. How? That’s when she remembered the absolute last thing. W-wait… Oh. OH. She’s a goddess … goddess?

She looked down at her lap again. Wait—divine lap pillow! She laid back down, and oh goddesses, I’m resting on cotton candy. Minimine giggled, taking that as a positive reply.

“Page,” Minimine said. Being called by name by a goddess—[+1 Excitement]—Page curled smaller, hiding her smile with her hands. Minimine smiled and continued. “I will have you instruct me.”

Hm? “Huh?” Huhh?

“The depths of hugging. I must know of it.”

“T-the what—”

“Quickly, I must know of the most appropriate hug that conveys apology.”

“A-apology? For what?”

“Hush, child.” Minimine patted Page on the head. “I do not wish to convey the intricacies at this time.”

“I … I understand.” Page sat up, letting her feet touch the ground, her hands flat on her lap. “Is this for Kalender?”

“Does it matter who it’s for?”

“It does!” Page said with balled fists—which loosened up. “I think? I-I’m suddenly not sure… It feels that way, at least?”

How tragic. Minimine had planned on just hugging everyone involved and saying nothing about why. There was always the option of blasting her feelings out as a magic wave, but if she could take this opportunity to make some further advances in her budding research about hugs, then why not? Anyway, blasting out an emotional wave was still on the table if that didn’t pan out.

“I’m getting the impression Kalender would know lots about it, though,” Page continued. “Why not ask him?”

K-Kalender… Minimine kept quiet about it, leaving Page to wonder and watch Minimine’s face plunge into introspection.

Page was genuinely baffled why Minimine wouldn’t just—talk to him? He didn’t give off the impression of someone who lived on a hair trigger, so even if, say, Minimine just went up to him and hugged him, leaving with no explanation, it’d be all fine, right?

“I-I guess,” Page said, “just hug him gently?”

Minimine looked to her. “Do you think so?”

Page put a hand on her shoulder, nodding solemnly as she said, “Believe in me, who believes in Kalender, who believes in me, who believes in you.”

How can you say such a simple thing in such a roundabout way with so disproportionate a conviction? Minimine appreciated the gesture, at least.

But, ‘hug him gently’ she said… It was a start. They had been in the bath for far too long, as well—two hours. Her followers and Kalender might be anywhere between anxious and impatient by now.

Minimine held Page’s hand and hopped off the bench, pulling at her to stand. “Let’s go.”

***

The door opened. Everyone’s heads turned to see Minimine tugging along a happily skipping Page. Kalender chuckled. Which one’s the kid?

His chuckle gave way to a more startled expression as his Interpersonal Bubble showed Minimine permitting him to come close, and just then, she gestured for Kalender to come closer.

He stood a meter from her. “Closer,” she said, so he stepped closer. “Closer,” she said again, so he inched on.

“Kneel, please.”

The request had him raising eyebrows, but he knelt, anyway. Minimine tattled over, and to everyone but Page’s surprise, hugged him.

The surprise quickly left Kalender’s mind, though, as he realized that it was a gentle one. For a moment, he was afraid that the surrounding Clerics would rise up in revolt, but such a thing didn’t transpire.

Still, this hug’s … a bit sad.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her, patting her on the back. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. There were no variations in physical pressure, no sudden shifts in body language. Time dragged on, and with it, dragged in newer, extended meanings: histories of melancholy, fear of the world around, and—apprehension for me? Why him? The hug wasn’t secure. It was salted with desperation.

Minimine pulled away. Kalender opened his mouth to speak, but … she wasn’t meeting his eyes. What was it that she wanted? Interpersonal Bubble was in constant flux.

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” he said. Minimine glanced at him, but that was all she spared.

She turned around and tattled over to Page, grabbing her by the hand and tugging her back to Kalender. “With Page,” she said. Page, herself, went through phases of inexpectant excitement, her eyes catching Kalender’s, so she waved hi-hello.

“Oh! Why don’t we invite Jyn?” Page said.

Minimine shook her head. “Page and Kalender only.”

Why Page? He could only imagine what had happened behind closed doors. On the other hand, apparently Minimine was casual enough as a goddess that she didn’t instantly liquefy some filthy mortal randomly treating her like a kid.

Minimine tugged Page along, and Kalender followed. She let go of Page’s hand and hopped up onto an ornate whitewood chair, her feet dangling from the edge. It was one of three chairs that surrounded a small, round table, on top of which was a complete set of carefully-crafted tea cups and a teapot, enough to serve all three of them.

“Please,” Minimine said. Page gladly sat beside Minimine, impressed of how wooden seats shouldn’t be this comfortable! Tak and the Clerics eyed her with much envy, occupying a seat beside their goddess, but Minimine seemed to be at ease with her, and so they couldn’t do anything.

Kalender sat across the two, feeling a tightness in his chest. They would, no doubt, be having an important conversation from this point onward.