Over the next days, Mary was treated to a truffle pudding with golden sprinkles which she needed to be convinced that they were really edible, the strawberriest ice-cream she had ever witnessed, shaped like a snowflakes mid-fall, a steak that was still aflame when it landed on her plate, a sculpture made of various vegetables and fruits she couldn't even name and a lot more. She had never eaten like that - in the orphanage, just renting the cutlery she was now using would push the whole institution over its monthly budget, and the Academy's main canteen, well... let's just say that it was much closer to the stereotype.

As promised, the inmates changed daily. Mary never saw the whispering person, although they were within hearing distance twice. She met a few more people, but they weren't particularly talkative. Each seemed to be either busy with their misery, asleep most of the time or just a jerk.

The only exception to that rule was Laura, but she only met her once more. This time she was in the opposite cell, and she turned out to be a bit malnourished and surprisingly scarred young woman. The baggy uniforms didn't expose much skin, but the face and hands silently hinted at many unpleasant stories the girl could have told her. Mary considered asking, but eventually decided it wouldn't be polite - especially since some of the scars she glimpsed on the woman's wrists followed a too familiar pattern.

Most of the time, though, she found herself alone, either completely or practically. She often heard voices and glimpsed shadows in the distance, but far enough that communication would take way too much effort. She found herself almost happy enjoying her meals on her own and taking some time to finally just rest. The only downside of that was being locked with Mossie, who tried to bother her whenever it could. But whatever, she was already in so much trouble, that a fine or two wouldn't hurt her much.

She wondered when would her process happen...

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

Mary found herself on the star-surrounded path again. She was becoming quite used to this place, and that realisation was creeping her out. Eh... that word again. Would she ever stop thinking about that boy? And how associating with her costed him the final price?

She gave herself an extra fifteen minutes of gloomily staring into the void. She would eventually get over it... or not. But today, she'd given herself that extra moment.

Eventually, she dragged her sorry rear to the island, where Veritas was again waiting with a tea party prepared. Well, some-other-liquid party, Mary still wasn't sure what it was.

“Hello, Mary. May I offer you a biscuit in these troubling times?” he asked, holding out a bowl of treats.

“Hi, Veritas. Why, yes, thank you,” she said, taking a piece. She took a bite but had to force herself to chew it and swallow. It was actually quite good, but... it just couldn't match the food she got used to over the last few days.

“You're having fun at the prison, then?” her villain asked, focusing his overly white eyes on hers.

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“Not really, no,” she said, wishing she could make it sound at least half as annoying and irritated as he did. “It's a prison, after all.”

“Oh, right, of course. More nectar, perhaps?” He snapped his fingers, and the teapot obediently flew towards Mary's cup. It was the same amber liquid she had last time.

She took a sip, but the molten candy just didn't feel right. It was too sweet and not sweet enough at the same time, and the bubbles irritated her mouth unpleasantly. She quickly swallowed and put the cup down.

“Is it some new recipe? I liked the previous one more.”

Veritas sighed. “No, Mary, it is the same. A hundred percent the same, to be precise.”

“Hm... it doesn't taste the same, though.”

“Yes, keep going....”

“What?”

Another sigh. “Think about it. Come on, this one even you should manage. If the drink is the same, and it tastes differently, then...?”

Mary tilted her head. “What, you mean that I changed? But it's been just...” She frowned. “Just...”

“How long do you think it was?” Veritas asked, staring at her intently but without obvious malice.

“I-I don't remember. The time flew funny there. A week, maybe...?”

“A month.”

Mary blinked. “B-but...”

A whole month? How could she not notice something like that? She frowned again. Actually, was Veritas telling the truth? He was a villain, after all. Mary tried to recall how many meals she'd tried. The food was served around three times a day, and most of it was quite unforgettable, so if she went through the list...

Yeah, it was a lot.

“Ok, I give up. What is going on here?”

“Right now, you're in a golden cage. That's the new way of imprisonment, more... humanitarian, or whatever.” He sapped a finger, and the piano music turned slower and deeper. “The easiest way to have your victim stay inside is to make them want to. I warned you that a lot of stuff can be addictive, didn't I?”

Mary looked down at her arms. The black veins seemed a bit darker and more pronounced than she remembered them. Was she imagining things? Like that one time when she slipped in a poem recitation and messed up the words, and went on obsessing over it for two weeks, until she finally asked a friend if people were still laughing about it, and it turned out no one had a single idea of what Mary was talking about?

Or was it real?

“So,” Veritas continued, “as you may have guessed, there was a reason I waited so long with another contact. See, I needed some time to prepare a thing or two, and I thought that making your stay in your current... predicament extra troubling would be pointless. But, now that I'm ready.”

He looked Mary in the eyes, and she couldn't not compare the experience to Mortimer. Both had a power behind them that creeped her out, but Veritas... he also had something wild trapped beneath the thin surface of mocking courtesy.

“Do you want to go out and save your friend? Or would you rather stay there forever?”

Her friend...? Who... wait, Paolo! He was still alive, wasn't he?

“Yes!”

Veritas sighed another time. “I asked you two questions, or rather - an 'a or b' question, and you answer with yes. Just... why. No, don't bother, I think I know what you meant. So, my advice of the day for you is: a golden cage is like heck. Think about it, and be ready by tomorrow's midnight. Good luck.”

“What? Wait, what does that-”

With that, the darkness enveloped her again.