Being a Grimm sucked.

Not being confined to biological necessities was a wonderful thing, don't get me wrong. Sleep being a choice made it so that I could get incredible amounts of work done in comparison to any human. The weather barely mattered, and you could live as you pleased as long as you were willing to suffer the cold, heat or moisture, barring extreme cases. Illness was something that I had to be reminded about by people who actually had to worry about that sort of thing.

But the duty foisted on you was a complete pain in the ass. How the hell was I expected to slaughter my way through an army of superhumans, undo the works of civilization and destroy a fucking planet?

I had no supplies beyond what I could scrounge for myself, zero pay, apparently I was expected to be on-call for the entirety of my existence and to top it all off, there was no retirement plan whatsoever.

And it's not like I could just change teams or anything. Even if I ignored the fact that mankind had an aversion to Grimm that ran further back than recorded history, the role of a Grimm wasn't something you could just quit. It was an imperative. An instinct as natural as breathing. The world itself seemed to whisper in my ear, sometimes. Begging to cease, to end.

I'm not sure whether it was a testament to my willpower or my tendency to slack off that I hadn't killed someone for over a month now.

In terms of prospects in the forces of destruction, All I had going for me was a nebulous promise of greater power and intelligence as I grew older, with the possibility of evolution depending on whether whatever species I was had the luck to win the metaphysical lottery. No rewards for a job well done, no imbuement of strength from dark gods, no lieutenant status in the armies of darkness, no nothing.

In exchange, I was expected to be part of a horde with barely even the semblance of tactics or thought, ready to hurl myself into the jaws of death for the slightest chance of pushing mankind one step back.

Yeah, I was going to stick to my infiltrator and possibly-eventually-if-I-can't-help-myself saboteur shtick, thank you very much. The rest of my kind could fuck off and frolic in barren wastelands studded with black crystals. I was going to keep enjoying having hot meals and lighting.

For as long as they lasted, anyways.

…Funny thing about being a Grimm. Just because you don't need to eat doesn't mean you can't feel hungry.

I could go for weeks without food. I had gone for weeks without food, when I was making my way to civilization. But all that time, I had felt this emptiness and pain in my stomach that only went away when I either forced myself into swallowing dirt or breaking my teeth on crystals. After my first sandwich, I was never going back to soil, I could tell you that much.

That being said, my studies had shown that other Grimm were pickier than I was. The Lancers that I raised hardly consumed anything, not jelly like most insects, bits of fruit like the wasps they were seemingly modelled after, or even the fluid they formed from like how some animals ate their eggs for nutrients. Not like I could blame them for that last one, though. Ichor tasted awful. Instead, they solely seemed interested in consuming living prey, such as insect grubs.

I, on the other hand, had no such compunctions in getting my stomach to shut up. I pulled the stove open and reached inside, ignoring the mild discomfort I felt as I grabbed ahold of the tin of baked beans inside and pulled the top open, gulping them down like a thick drink in a mug.

Of course, there was a difference in hunger and appetite. Much like mankind, I could eat for the sake of taste alone. I had a working tongue, after all, and who didn't appreciate chocolate and ice cream?

But no amount of sugar satisfied a taste for the soul.

I turned over to where the two invaders were sitting and did my best to ignore the cravings as I approached the two of them. Humans with aura had the most potent 'scent', like a freshly-cooked meal, but I had plenty of practice acting like these sorts of things didn't bother me.

I'd cleared one of the tables of tools and projects, and turned over a few boxes for extra chairs. The lady had commandeered the only stool I had, and I'd deigned not to comment, mostly due to the fact that she could apparently melt things with a touch.

Partially because, for this moment, they were guests. Untoward guests, but guests nonetheless. I didn't regularly extend my hospitality, especially so deep in my home and so close to my secrets, but if I wanted answers as to why they seemed so familiar, I needed to put them at ease.

Well, all that and because I could literally see her feelings, a roiling and swirling mess of suspicion, irritation and ambition, and I wasn't particularly interested in destabilising that mess. It did, however, give me ideas for my next painting.

Portraying human emotions visually in my art was difficult without references. Colours didn't sync up with emotions well, nor did any shape I could draw on a sheet of paper, but I could get close, and the closer I got the more conductive the result was for my magic.

But anyways. There were two aura-imbued humans in my lair. How did I get them to leave it without any fuss?

The grey boy clearly didn't want to be here. The wariness in his soul was easily the most pronounced part of him, and he didn't really try to hide it on his face, either.

He met my gaze with a flat look of distrust. A small quirk of my lips was my answer, before I turned my attention to the real problem in the room.

The woman was the more dangerous one of the two. I could tell by the quiet confidence with which she held herself, meeting my eyes without any sign of fear, a small, self-assured smile on her lips.

The moment I'd hit the ground, whatever hesitation she'd been feeling had vanished. So on the bright side, my glamour was doing its job. My appearance of a relatively pathetic human had apparently lowered her guard. The downside of that was the invigoration of her ambition. She wanted something from me.

The question was what.

"The fuck do you want?" I asked, like the master of grace and tact I was.

Her smirk twitched a little wider. I saw her eyes dart to the shelves behind me, before returning to me. I resisted the urge to check behind me if I'd forgotten to put away the more awkward aspects of my magical laboratory. I could brush off her seeing dust crystals and even vials of ichor easily. A jarful of eyes was a little bit tougher to explain.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and laced her fingers together, before completely ignoring my question. "You seem a little young to be running a place like this, Mister..."

I rolled my eyes at her blatant fishing for information, but went along with it anyway. "My name is Lue. Castell Lue." As I spoke, I felt my glamour grow just that tiny bit thicker as I reinforced my identity. It wasn't really my name, of course, but it was the name of this guise, and that was the important part. "And I don't suppose you'd give me your name?"

She gave a polite smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. My name is Cinder Fall. And this is my associate, Mercury."

Score. I easily stifled the smirk that threatened to emerge on my own face.

Another thing I'd discovered earlier on in my studies. Names had power. Only as much power as one gave them, mind, but people tended to put plenty of stock in their names, and I could feel the pride she had in her own, more than any other name I'd had a chance to sample.

The opening she'd given was like a thread, stretching out to me. I could grab it and yank, but I held off, letting the moment pass by and the opening she'd provided shrink. I had her permission, and that was plenty enough to do some devious things later, but for now I simply let the information roll around in my head.

Cinder. The name was familiar, but the context escaped me. Vague memories of a tale about a princess and her glass slipper flashed through my mind as I stared at her. She looked refined, but monarchies of the Kingdoms of Remnant had been dissolved for nearly a century, though I supposed royal bloodlines could still exist, plotting to regain their former power.

Then again, nothing I ever saw really matched up directly with the stories in my head. Aurus had reminded me of the Emperor and his new clothes, but he hadn't turned up naked when we first met, nor any other time. The dark-skinned girl I'd met earlier today hadn't even registered as Aladdin until I'd noticed the jewel-like symbol on the back of her top, and she didn't look much like a street beggar, though she was certainly a thief.

I've been staring for a while, I should probably say something. "Barnacles." I intoned, leaning back, gazing off into the distance.

Cinder's brow furrowed a little.

…Yeah, I can't salvage that. Change the subject! "So, Cinder. Mercury." I drummed the table rapidly, before stopping and pointing at them with both hands. "What. Do. You. Want?" I repeated.

Again, she refused to answer my very simple question, letting her eyes roam over my laboratory. I suppressed a sigh as I considered the two of them.

I had been putting effort into cultivating a number of identities, offering different services using different faces, and Rumple Stilton was my more "public facing" one of the three I had. I sold copies of the stories I could piece together from my battered and muddled memories, along with the byproducts of my research into dustweaving, though that had ended up attracting a more useful customer base than I'd initially anticipated.

The money was good, but what I was really after was favours from huntsmen and persons of means, as well as reputation. Words were air, but when you could put power into promises, they became something substantial.

Reputation, on the other hand, was both more and less useful than a promise. In a sense, it was part of what made up the worth of an identity, along with a number of other factors. With a properly prepared identity, I'd be able to open doors and get private chats with important persons.

Which made Cinder and Mercury's presence strange, because I doubted they'd learned my name from my satisfied customers as Rumple Stilton. Most of the huntsmen and aristocracy who learned about my little business were referred to by other customers, and none had intruded so far into my home.

They had aura, but they didn't carry themselves like huntsmen. Two obvious theories I had were that they were empowered criminals, or that they were here on behalf of someone high-up in society to the point where their servants, or rather enforcers, had their aura awakened. The ambition swirling in Cinder didn't match up with the latter, but it didn't seem so simple as the former.

Once again, I began turning over the thought of a disgraced noble clawing back the reins of power in my mind, considering it. Somehow it seemed to fit the two of them. I could almost see it. Cinder, the jilted heir to a power she feels is her birthright, and Mercury, her lethal aide and accomplice.

And yet, it didn't. Now, as I defogged the tale in my mind and put the pieces together, I realised that Cinderella wasn't actually a princess, she was a peasant girl granted magical gifts by a fairy godmother that a prince fell in love with, who she eventually married into royalty. So that shot the disgraced noble theory in the head and buried it in the garden.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Though that being said, the more I thought about it, the more there did seem to be a shred of truth to the discarded theory.

My eyes narrowed further. It wasn't greed or avarice that Cinder was feeling, but ambition. I'd seen the colour and shape of desires for the material. It was part and parcel of running a shop where people could buy things.

Cinder didn't want something from me.

Cinder wanted something from me.

I fought the urge to look at Mercury as he glanced between the two of us, and with a sigh that was slightly too loud to be unintentional, he got up from the table and wandered off, poking at the rest of my laboratory.

"It's an interesting business you run, Castell." Cinder spoke up, drawing my attention back to her as she ran a finger over one of my statuettes of the Grimm. "Books on one end, clothes on the other. It's quite unusual, to say the least. How did you come to find yourself as an entrepreneur so young, much less an entrepreneur of such an eclectic nature? One might even say eccentric, given how the two halves don't seem to relate at all." While her tone was pleasant, I could see the lie on both her face and soul, so bold and obvious it was nauseating.

But, again, I went along with her script, since I didn't want to piss her off. I gave a shrug as I turned to watch Mercury peering at a glass jar over a dust-powered bunsen burner. "Not completely sure about the process, I'm afraid. It all started with a hole in the wall where I happened to keep my materials and projects, and eventually so many people wanted to buy them off my hands that I could set up a roof over my head. The paperwork just seemed to fall through somewhere along the line, maybe when I started doing business with the upper crust."

Translation: Yeah, I'm squatting and this shop is hella illegal, but I've got enough friends in high places that nobody's going to care.

"I see." Cinder steepled her fingers, eyes roaming over my face as she searched for something. The corner of her lips quirked upwards again. "It's strange, because I've heard that there's an old man who runs this place. Mister Stilton, or something along those lines. I was wondering, is there any chance that you know him?"

I wasn't going to lie, I was getting somewhat impatient with this conversation, but I also wanted to throw her off her game. She'd obviously guessed the link between me, the old man who ran the store, and the strange sights she'd seen on her way down, she just wanted to make me sweat somehow. "Well, obviously I know him." I jabbed a finger into my chest. "He's me."

Her smile grew. "Interesting."

I tilted my head back and gulped down another mouthful of beans as I waited for her to get on with it.

A few moments passed, and Mercury wandered next to one of my bookshelves, where I'd stashed all my textbooks on dust mechanics. Stolen, obviously. The prices on textbooks were criminal.

"Would you mind explaining how that is possible?" Cinder questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Fuck it. Exposition dump time. "My Semblance, 'Impossible Utopia', lets me create illusions, allowing me to alter how various things appear to the senses." I explained, tapping the can of beans I was holding. As the two of them watched, it began to shift in appearance. "This includes all five senses, from taste to touch. The possibilities are varied, as you can imagine. A doorknob can be made to feel scalding hot, or it can vanish along with a door to make a room seem as if it had no exit. However, the illusion must be fixed to something upon creation, whether it's a static object or a person's features." As I continued speaking, the can finished its slow transformation into a mug filled with lightly steaming hot chocolate.

"I use it to alter my appearance while working as a shopkeeper, because people tend to expect less out of old people. I also used it to alter my basement levels to spook nosy people away." I sipped from the mug, though I took care not to act as though the handle was real. The contents even tasted like hot chocolate, though the flavour was basic in profile due to lack of practice on that sense on my end. "And because it was an interesting art project to me."

I sat up straight and jabbed a finger at them. "Before you ask, no, I don't do facial features or any other adjustments of other people's appearances. That bullshit is complicated and way too much hassle, and it needs regular upkeep which I will not be around to provide no matter how much you pay. That, and because I frankly refuse to get sued because some dipshit poked their eye out because they decided to put their fake mouth where their eyes are. And no, the illusion doesn't affect your thoughts, because the human brain is an asshole. Any more questions?"

A long period of silence ensued as the two of them stared at me. I could see Cinder's ambitions sputtering as shock briefly overwhelmed her drive, before it began to grow brighter and brighter.

Of course, everything I'd said was a fat fucking lie. Not the effects and limitations, mind. But rather the basic mechanisms underlying everything I'd said. I had no Semblance. In order to have a Semblance, you needed to have an awakened aura. I didn't have one of those. In fact, according to the Scrolls I'd snatched, I had no aura whatsoever, which made sense because I was a Grimm, and according to local knowledge, those didn't have aura, but did have poorly understood abilities that couldn't be explained by modern sciences.

Which I was almost certain was magic. Or the ability to manipulate spiritual energies in a wholly different manner than the human race, if you wanted to be anal about it.

Illusions was one of my magics, because once I'd realised that shaping and controlling spiritual energy was the basis of my illusions, I'd begun trying to puzzle how else I could use it.

"...Wait a sec. You named your Semblance?" Mercury finally asked, looking both incredulous and bemused.

"Half the goddamn fun of having a unique soul-superpower is getting to name it." I took another sip of my fake hot chocolate. "It's my life, so I get to pick the coping mechanisms."

Mercury opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Cinder held up a hand. Her face was still, eyes closed, as she seemed to collect her thoughts. Then, she opened her eyes and stared at me with renewed focus. "I think I understand now. Your Semblance is impressive, Lue, and that explanation was... helpful. However, I'm afraid I have one last question, if you would indulge me."

I watched her ambitions flare up with caution, but outwardly gave a casual shrug. "Hit me."

Cinder stood up, her smirk had returned in full force as she met my gaze from above. "Where did you get your Dust?"

...I was hoping that she wouldn't notice that.

Pretty much all Dust I used in my research into spiritual energy was stolen. Some of it wasn't, mostly the processed variants and rarer types which I had to buy, but I used plenty of raw, untreated Dust in my experiments, and that stuff was dangerous. Far too dangerous for civilian use, and licences for owning it were hard to come by.

I could go into detail about the laws and procedures of how much dust you can store in so and so conditions in whatever state, but the point was this. Nobody had as much raw dust as I did, not unless they'd stolen it from a quarry somehow, or from someone else who'd done the same.

I, personally, had stolen mine from terrorists, because it was a hell of a lot easier than messing around with international convoys or Dust shops.

Yeah, I was addicted to the five-finger discount, sue me.

Now, I didn't have much of it lying around out in the open, because of aforementioned danger, but something in Cinder's smile told me that wasn't going to be enough.

"Mercury." She announced, "Be a dear and check under the bookshelf on the right side of the room."

Mercury raised an eyebrow, but walked over anyway. "Be careful over there." I called out, "That's some pretty heavy ordinance you're messing with."

"Ordinance." Cinder's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "What interesting terminology."

A low whistle came from Mercury's direction as he pulled a box from beneath the bookshelf. "Hey, boss. He wasn't kidding."

The box was about the size of a large suitcase, and as Mercury came over and set it on the table, I could see the letters stamped on the front.

'Property of the Atlesian Military'

"Well, well." Cinder smirked, reaching over and popping the locks. "What's a boy like you doing with enough military-grade Dust crystals to arm a small militia?"

"Evil wizard things." I replied, with complete honesty.

Cinder rolled her eyes as something just short of a snort escaped her, letting the exasperation in her soul show through the cracks in her mask for once, before she turned her attention back to the case and pulled it open.

Inside, a half-dozen Dust crystals glinted. The smallest one was as big as a grapefruit, and the largest was the size of a watermelon.

I held in a sigh of annoyance. This was the part where she probably threatened to rat me out to the authorities, and I'd have to either kill the two of them or figure out a way to wipe their memories. People with their Aura awakened were always so much trickier to mess with, but if I could word things properly, maybe I could get her to inadvertently grant me permission.

Then again, it's been so long since I've slain a member of the enemy, and the urge was growing... dangerous. I fought the instinct to let my disguise drop and lunge. If I wanted to win, I'd have to play it smart. Flicker off the lights, get away from the room, and detonate the crystals under the bed? That could work, but what if-

Oh wait, she was saying something.

"-Interesting hobby you have." Cinder commented, and I was forced to rewind the events in my mind as she continued speaking. She'd reached into the case, plucked out the smallest gem with a sigh of satisfaction, turned to me with intrigue. And now... "Wit and skill can get you far, but you went further. It must have taken a great deal of daring to pull this off, and a sharp mind to cover your tracks so well."

She was... complimenting me? I looked her up and down, staring at the light of her soul for signs of deception. But no, there was nothing. She wasn't lying, nor was she being sarcastic, or any other flavour of half-truth or deception. She actually seemed impressed. Of course, there were other aspects to her feelings. There was an incredible amount of devious glee bubbling away underneath the surface, while her confidence was practically doing loop-de-loops and cartwheels. "Tell me, would you be interested in expanding your collection?"

I leaned back, letting the chair's front legs come off the ground. I stared at her for a moment, considering her words. There was a genuine smile on her face that matched her soul, though it was tinged with a hint of smugness which was much the same. "You have my interest."

"I can tell that you have a certain appreciation for the... artisanal quality of Dust." Cinder said as she gestured towards the walls of my laboratory, to all the dustwoven clothes, of course, but also gesturing to the less obvious applications of magic in my lab. The paintings with paint mixed with powdered dust, the statues shaped with the help of carefully controlled bursts of lightning and fire, even the original copies of books which I'd hand-written with ink mixed with Ichor, much to my growing interest. "And an equivalent talent, if your skill with your Semblance is anything to go by."

"You flatter me." And it's working. Damn whatever the hell made me it's working.

"I simply speak the truth." Cinder's smile grew. "You are very talented, Castell. And with the proper guidance, I believe you can do amazing things."

I stared at her, taking care to keep my sullen image up as the hunger roared within me. It wasn't just for her soul, though. Not anymore.

I was beginning to suspect that Cinder was truly magical, or closer to it than any other person I'd found in my searching. Her abilities were varied, complex in application unlike any other hunter I'd researched or encountered, short of the Schnee family and their glyphs. I could imagine her melting glass earlier through the clever application of dust, but I didn't know how she'd pointed out every magical item I owned.

And on top of all that... the dramatics. The flair. The sheer fucking panache.

Cinder was easily the most fascinating person I'd met since I was born.

Of course, I would never be satisfied with the role of a minion. But I could accept a temporary partnership, if she proved worth the investment.

Though something had occurred to me. "...Are you engineering the downfall of the human race?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

That brought Cinder up short, but she recovered quickly, and let out a single, soft laugh. "Oh, no. Nothing so grand as that. However, the world will soon be changing, and there are many things which may be..." She waved a hand dismissively, "lost in the transition."

If I were human, perhaps I wouldn't have noticed. But I wasn't, and I did. A lie so absurdly bold and blatant it practically dripped with malice. Mercury didn't notice of course, busy rolling his human eyes and folding his arms, but I could see the truth behind her words, hidden away where only her soul could see.

There would be a time where the Kingdoms of Remnant, and all that they had wrought, would come to an end.

This was not a fact, nor was it a possibility. It was inevitable.

Cinder believed in that outcome. And her faith was not without merit. The world wanted to end. I could hear it even now, a quiet whisper in the back of my mind.

I had no idea how she knew. Maybe she had access to sources of information I didn't. Maybe she was simply more attuned to the natural order of the universe, and could feel the way things were moving.

All I knew was that when the time came, she expected that she'd be standing at the top of it all, with everything she wanted.

And I was going to find out why.

"Alright then." I leaned forwards and set the chair down, clasping my hands together as the illusion of my face split in a toothy grin that was far more human than the smile underneath. "What do you want..." Pause for emphasis, and then tilt the head for effect. "Cinder?"

Her smile widened as her ambition flared.

—

We talked long and late into the night.

I didn't tell her everything. Of course I didn't. I kept my true identity a secret, and left my past as murky as the Ichor in which I was born. But I did talk, and I talked fast, about what I could do, and what I was capable of, and what I wanted.

The conversation ended with a handshake, and an appointment.

Cinder and Mercury left my evil lair, and I watched them leave, waiting until I was sure they weren't coming back.

Then I went over to the shelves, stepping over the puddle of solidified glass and pushed a few vials aside, before brushing away the illusion behind it to reveal a small hole that was as deep as my arm was long. I stuck my hand inside, and rummaged around.

My fingers brushed against the cool surface of glass, and I pulled out a vial with what looked like a wasp within. I uncorked it, and let the painted Lancer crawl onto my knuckles.

"There are two awakened human beings leaving this place." I whispered, pouring spiritual power into my words. "Find them. Follow them at a distance, and do not enter any enclosed spaces. If they enter a work of civilization at least twice as tall as they are, return here and wait for me. Now go."

The Lancer buzzed, and shot into the air after them, no thoughts in its simple mind but following my instructions. I couldn't help but smile as it left, before checking my Scroll for the time.

My eyes shot wide open. I was late for my other job! I dashed for the closet, muttering curses to myself as I pulled out fresh clothing.

Damn it, why couldn't being a tricksy, scheming monster be a part-time gig?