It was night by the time Sorin left Viper Manor and walked the short distance to the building he, his parents, and their parents before them had once called home. Part of the manor's large oak double doors were hidden in shadows due to insufficient torchlight, but Sorin could remember every nick and every dent on the familiar door as well as the gentle sound the doorbell made when it rang.

Sorin's feelings of nostalgia intensified as he waited in the rain for the door to open. There was a familiar click as the door swung inward to reveal a familiar butler wearing familiar attire. "Welcome home, Young Master Sorin," said the butler in a familiar tone and a familiar smile as he ushered Sorin inside and waited for him to take it all in.

"This manor used to be the Clan Leader's residence," Sorin finally said. "No one moved in when they forced us out, in part because of its symbolic nature but mostly due to the extravagance of its facilities. This place… isn't cheap, Percival. It's beyond what we can afford."

"Then it's a good thing it's been assigned for your use at no additional cost," said Percival. "Maintaining the place will be expensive, but we'll be much better off than if we rented or bought elsewhere. And besides… seeing your face when I opened the door brought back precious memories. Clarice and I acted beyond our station picking this manor, but your smile tells me that we made the right decision."

A light clacking sounded in the entranceway to reveal Sorin's maid, Clarice. Like Percival, she'd opted to wear her old outfit. "My apologies for taking so long to get here from the kitchen. Welcome home, Young Master Sorin."

"Your friends are waiting in the living room," said Percival. "Would you like to join them or look around a bit first?"

Sorin opted to take the long way to the living room. As was the case with most manors of this size, there existed two different types of walkways—wide walkways that funneled the house's inhabitants and guests through increasingly impressive rooms and narrower walkways that cut from room to room for

His first stop was the dining room, where silverware had just been laid out. The table was large enough to accommodate twenty people, but Sorin's small family had only ever occupied one small corner, eating the modest meals they enjoyed.

Sorin lingered briefly before heading to the drawing room where his father had once worked. The library was still there, though judging by the gaps on the bookshelves, some useful tomes had been reclaimed by the family and moved to the central library.

Cutting through a concealed staircase, Sorin arrived at his old bedroom. His bed and mattress were still there—albeit freshly cleaned—as was the desk he'd toiled at for most of his childhood. His parents' old bedroom was also well-preserved. Clarice and Percival had thankfully opted not to move him into the master suite for the time being.

Considering how much time has passed, very little has changed, thought Sorin as he made his way down the stairs. The portraits are still there. The formations are still intact. The place is a bit dusty but not unbearably so.

Several guest bedrooms on the second floor were marked as occupied. Gareth and Lawrence had likely been assigned these rooms; as for Lorimer, Sorin wondered whether Percival had tried setting him up in the kennels because three rooms were marked with his name.

The piano room was unchanged. Tapping on a few keys, he confirmed that the piano was freshly tuned and ready to use.

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He was about to sit down and play when suddenly, he heard a loud crash. Sorin used Adder Rush to descend the stairs and arrived at a room containing a pile of rags and floating feathers.

"Keep him occupied so I can shoot him."

"There will be no shooting in the house!"

"How else are we going to handle him? He's made himself a fortress of fluff and hidden inside it. I can't even see through it with my ability!"

Sorin looked about the room and saw that the three speakers were Gareth, Percival, and Lawrence. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

"You tell me," said Gareth, pulling back an arrow and taking aim at the pile of torn-up rags and feathers. "One minute, Lorimer was eating pastries and drinking coffee. The next, his corruption spiked, and his aggression fell off the charts. Now, are you going to just stand around or help us? He's not causing any problems for now, but that's just because Lawrence tossed him a three-star demon crystal to snack on."

"Lorimer, why don't you come out and see me?" asked Sorin, walking close to what used to be a couch. "Maybe we can talk this over." The pile of rags emitted a warning growl. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you."

Almost… now! Sorin's hand pierced through the pile and made to grab the rat. He felt something scratch his hand and bite off his index finger, then jumped back as a ball of fluff launched himself at Sorin's chest and began clawing madly.

"Now you're just asking for it," said Sorin. A small but powerful poisonous python coiled around Lorimer and slammed the rat to the ground. He tried to get up but was yanked off his tiny paws and slammed onto the floor once again.

A voracious suction force blasted out from the rat before the python could slam him a third time. Unfortunately for the rat, devouring his surroundings meant devouring all cover; golden needles pierced into the rat's joints and paralyzed him; he fell to the ground, stiff as a corpse.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Lawrence as Sorin picked up the stiff rat by the tail.

"He'll be fine," said Sorin as he used Hand of the Twisted Physician to smooth out the corruption in his body. But what caused the imbalance in the first place? This kind of change doesn't happen out of nowhere.

Strife, Violence, and Madness were all present in the rat's body, and due to recent events, Strife and Violence had taken the lead role. The loss of balance had both empowered the rat and impaired his rationality.

Eventually, Lorimer calmed down and slumped to the floor. Sorin watched the rat heal with interest as his own missing finger regrew at a visible pace. Sorin wasn't sure what had just happened, but to be safe, he inspected Gareth and Lawrence's bodies.

"It seems that whatever caused this is unique to Lorimer," said Sorin after discovering nothing amiss. "I have no idea what caused the imbalance. We'll need to keep a close eye on him to prevent reoccurrence."

"Keep a close eye on him?" asked Gareth. "That's not good enough, given what just happened."

Sorin shrugged. "No one was hurt. If I keep him close, I promise that nothing will happen."

Gareth snorted. "You have no idea what just happened, do you? Let me ask you this: did you feel a weakening in your bond just now?"

Sorin frowned. "It weakened by a tad. I don't see how that's relevant."

"It's very relevant," said Gareth. "This weakening of control is what happens when bound demons break free. In most cases, massive casualties ensue."

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Sorin. "He's my familiar. It should be fine if I'm the one looking over him."

"Maybe," said Gareth. "But given recent events and the changes I've observed in Daphne and Stephan, I'm not so sure."

"Guys, the cake is ready, and I, for one, think Clarice did an excellent job!" said Lawrence. Sorin looked up to find that the rogue had not just left the room but had also set up four small plates and cutlery. A gorgeous-looking cake with pink icing had been placed on the table. "I know it's dinner time soon, but why don't we all calm down over a slice of cake. Especially you, Gareth. You look like you could kill someone, and let me tell you, it's not a good look."

Gareth glared at Sorin for a few seconds before giving in. "Fine. A quick slice of cake before getting down to serious business."

"And coffee?" asked Lawrence with an insistent smile.

"Fine," said Gareth. "A quick cup of coffee before getting down to business."

"Ree?" said Lorimer, raising his head from where he'd passed out.

"Of course, you can have cake, Lorimer," said Lawrence. "Everyone should have cake. But no coffee. Coffee makes bad rats do bad things."

"Reee!"