They became seven.

Seven faceless shadows and two formless men.

Men who struggled to speak, shadows who lacked too much to be.

“…where…is…my…gold…?” Second spoke, his eyes turning inside out, then turning to the sides, then inside again. “Did you…stole…my gold?”

The person who resembled a man gave Second a gentle smile, pressing the empty tray against their chest.

“I am pleased to see you’ve enjoyed it, sir.”

As First drank a few more sips of his drink, he gasped, wheezed, groaned. The vibrant red glow pulsed from within his form, pulling the shadows closer together, giving them more purpose. More meaning.

“My name…I had a name once…I was famous once.”

Ninth could now see better the man’s face. And as the sweet fragrance of the drink reached it, the shadow caught memories that although it did not belong to it, made Ninth recall.

Words.

Meanings.

Things lost to the Ninth and all the other shadows, yet things that still meant something. Things that had meant something.

Ninth could see and observe now. Understand, somewhat. That First was a man who once had a wavy hair. How he had once been a man who had thin wrists and a long neck. Yet Ninth could not see much more—not when all it had was the drink’s sweet fragrance and First’s formless body.

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“This is truly a novel experience for me. I had never had the pleasure of preparing so many drinks at once. I must say, this is exciting!”

The person who resembled a man spoke from the other side, their voice a melodic song.

The other shadows watched that person—the way they threw bottles up in the air, catching them from behind while pouring liquids into glasses.

Ninth kept gazing at Second. At the way the still formless man kept grasping at empty air almost with longing.

“…mine…it is…mine…”

And almost as if the man could sense the shadow’s gaze, his eyes rolled down toward Ninth. Taking some seconds for them to find their right place, focusing. Straining.

“Were you…the one…who took it?”

Like First before, the man’s mouth would open and close with long pauses in between, a discrepancy between the movements and the sounds that came out of it.

A flash of light pulled Ninth attention away from Second, forcing its gaze to lock on the person preparing the new drink.

And even from afar, the scents that reached Ninth were strong and fierce. Carrying their own punch—their own will.

That person didn’t walk far, this time. It stopped almost at the start, handing the glass to one of the first shadows seated only a few steps from the poseur table.

Yet even from afar, Ninth could see.

The ice shaped like a knife.

A thick and red liquid, its color dark yet vivid.

Things sprouting from the glass, things Ninth could vaguely recall the words. The meanings.

Those things, they were food. Things a person could cook and eat, or bite raw.

The shadow reached out for the round glass, its form simple yet elegant. It looked at the person for a few seconds, as if it wanted some confirmation.

That person spoke with a gleeful smile, motioning toward the drink with their hands.

“Go ahead. I am certain you will enjoy it.”

Only after hearing those words did the shadow bring the glass close to it, taking a longer sip than First and Second did on their first try.

The thing that was slowly becoming Third shook and gasped, the earthy glow spreading within its form—pulsing, glowing brighter.

Yet that time, it was a different form from the others so far. Something Ninth struggled to recognize. To recall the word and meaning.

When Third spoke, a voice as delicate as the thin ice on the drink, Ninth realized what was so different about its new form.

“…can you…tell me…my calling…?”

Not one of a man.

But one of a woman.