It was just about when she swallowed down the third worm that it dawned on Momo just how much she had changed.

Talking to her younger self had hinted at it—but the sheer lack of gag reflex, the way that she was appreciating the taste of the long-dead invertebrae, using words like aged and umami to describe it in her thoughts—brought it into dramatic focus. The realization made her stomach turn. Well, it was either that or the worms that did it, but one and the same.

She and Other-Momo were spread out on the grass, two snow angels in a sea of dying weeds. She had gone in and out of freeing souls for the past hour. Taking it one soul at a time was a lot easier than pressing on through hundreds. It was like doing reps at the gym: thirty spread out over an hour was a lot less deadly than six hundred pushups back to back.

“You’re disgusting,” her clone commented with clear revulsion, not even risking a glance in her direction. Her eyes were stuck to the sky, watching clouds. “I can’t believe you’re eating worms. Real worms.”

“They’re not real,” Momo said, chewing absentmindedly. “They’re made of Nether. They’re basically gummy worms, except way more ethical. No melted horse parts.”

“They’re still worms. It’s just the principle of it.”

“Yeah, well,” Momo swallowed. “I know you’ve never experienced a world without a drive-thru McDonalds, but I have. It changes you. I haven’t had a french fry in like a year and a half. Like—I used to care so strongly about how the McDonalds one was superior to the Burger King one, it was such a strong subject for me—now I don’t even remember what they taste like.”

Her counterpart turned her head swiftly in the grass, staring at Momo with wide-eyed horror. “But that’s all I eat,” she informed her gravely. “I don’t even know where I’d get my nutrients from otherwise. I haven’t had an apple that wasn’t cooked like a chicken and drenched in sugar in… I don’t know… a decade? I don’t believe there’s a timeline where I just give up on fast food.”

Momo frowned. “Actually, fast food gives up on you,” she said after a moment, feeling like a fortune teller. She didn’t have to read Momo’s palms to give her that one for free.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out.” She picked up another worm off the ground. “Actually, maybe you won’t. Not if you take my advice—don’t go to Upstate New York. It’s not what you think it is.”

Mallmart Momo scoffed. “It’s not trees, snow, and horrifically unsociable introverts like myself?”

Momo rolled her eyes, then shrugged. “Actually, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

She dangled a worm above her lips as her clone glared at her. “Don’t get all cocky, acting like you have it figured out. I don’t care if you’re eating worms now, it still doesn't seem like you’re doing any better than me. Like, where are your friends? Where’s Mom and Dad?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Momo froze, her skin crawling. She tossed the worm aside. Her attention turned instead to the box laying in the weeds near her forehead. It looked rather placid. Satiated. She took it in her hands regardless.

“I think it’s acting up again…” she said, clearing her throat. She shook the box a little for good measure, and one singular ghastly scream escaped it. “See? It’ll probably ka-blow soon. I should free some more souls. Feel free to look away, go take a walk, whatever you need—”

Mallmart Momo crossed her arms stubbornly.

“You are so obviously ignoring the question.”

“Am not,” Momo refuted maturely.

“Are too.”

Despite the tension, Momo couldn’t help but feel a little amused. She had often wondered what it’d be like to meet a clone of herself, because, who hadn’t? But what surprised her the most was how different they felt—how at odds—despite their every atom being identical. It was so much easier to poke and prod at your own flaws once you saw them so vagrantly on display in another person.

“You’re acting like Dae-hyun,” Momo replied. “So nosy.”

“Oh, shove it.” The other girl laughed. “No I’m not. Neither of us could ever be that annoying.”

They grinned at each other, teeth showing.

Then, after a moment, Momo sighed. There was no hope in lying to yourself.

“I haven’t seen them,” she confessed begrudgingly. When the other girl raised an eyebrow, she clarified. “Mom and Dad. You’re right, I don’t visit. But I can’t. They aren’t in this world.”

“What do you mean, this world? Are you telling me you’re some kind of space alien?”

“No, but—ugh—obviously this isn’t San Francisco.”

“Well obviously. But wait, I think I know where we are…” Mallmart Momo surveyed the space, eyes narrowing like a comic detective. “Crumbling castles… lack of parking lots… Clean, unpolluted air…”

She tapped her lips in thought.

“Am I allowed one question?”

Momo laughed. “I wasn’t aware we were on a game show.”

Her clone glared at her.

“Yes, fine, a question, of course,” Momo said.

“Does this place have universal healthcare?”

Momo opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she laughed.

Then she actually considered it.

Alois did have healing spells, and Mana was sort of a built in capacity that everyone had… so, kind of?

“Yes?”

“I knew it!” Clone-Momo threw a fist in the air. “We’re in Europe. I’m not sure what part of Europe, but Nether sounds vaguely French, so maybe there.”

“Oh my god,” Momo groaned. “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey, that was rude.”

“I’m sorry, but, Europe?”

“Okay, I don’t know, Japan?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Momo sighed, growing frustrated. “I just can’t see them, okay? Just drop it.”

“Can’t, or won’t? Planes exist, Momo. Even in Europe.”

Momo chewed on her lip, her rebuttal dying in her throat. In all truth, despite being very, very off the mark, Clone-Mo wasn’t entirely wrong. Momo was a dokkaebi now, a goddamn Nether Demon. She had friends like Azrael who flipped through universes like clothes in a catalog. Valerica was, in a sense, the literal Goddess of the Afterlife Department of Transportation. If she really wanted to, she could get to Earth. She knew that somewhere, deep down.

“I just can’t,” she said, regardless. It emerged from her throat more of a choking sound than anything else. “Now, I really need to get to this box, there’s still so many souls left…”

As she was reaching for the box, a peculiar looking cloud caught her attention. She had been so distracted by the conversation, she had failed to notice its rather startling appearance. While all the other clouds crept along the blue expanse, this one had rotated ninety degrees, just hanging there, oscillating from side to side like a pendulum. It was almost as if it was just dangling in the sky from an unseen wire, a puppet of a cloud that was no longer subject to the force of wind.

Then, like a fisherman coming upon his prey, a hand emerged from the sky. It gripped the cloud full-fist. A terribly familiar female voice, booming like a volcano, followed.

“Gods—of all places—you’re sure that the Catwalk Communicator was pinging in here?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” came another voice. The valet. “We’ve got her.”