"What's plastic?" Remicra asked, her scales flickering with gold.

"A synthetic material made from oil and chemicals," Dave explained. "It can be molded into almost any shape when heated and becomes hard when cooled. It's waterproof, lightweight, and can be quite durable depending on how it's made."

"And you think we can make this... plastic here?" Remicra asked.

"Maybe something similar," Dave shrugged. “I’ll have to think about it, see what’s available around and consult Sherlock.”

Remicra's eyes drifted back to the Phylactery book still lying open on the table. "I'm surprised you're not more... fixated on that book. You literally stole my stained glass window because it had her portrait on it."

Dave glanced at the Phylactery. "I was... pretty messed up back then. The souls I'd absorbed were fragmenting my mind. But I'm better now, more stable. And I understand that this isn't really Lari - it's just an echo of her, a fraction preserved through magic."

"And you're okay with that?" Remicra asked softly.

"Not really," Dave admitted as he picked up the book and slipped it into his side bag. "But I accept it. There's no realistic way to bring Lari back. She died centuries ago. What's in this book is just... programming, an algorithm designed to protect future versions of me. It's not my best friend who saved my life and played D&D with me every Saturday."

"That's... surprisingly mature of you," Remicra commented.

"When I first saw Lari's portrait in the stained glass, I felt like I was falling into an abyss," Dave said. "I was lost, broken, alone... surrounded by fragments of other people's souls trying to tear me apart from within. The idea that some part of Lari might still exist... I clung to it like a drowning man."

Remicra's scales shifted to violet as her hand reached across the table towards his. She saw the shimmering bruises on his fingers and stopped herself, pulling back.

"But that's not the case anymore," Dave caught Remicra's retreating hand, ignoring the throbbing stinging sensations. "I have real connections now. You and Cedez. Friends who accept me as I am, who help keep me grounded in who I really am. Finding someone I can trust makes it easier to let go of ghosts.”

"Aww!" Cedez cooed, wrapping her arms around both of them. "Group hug!"

"Get off!" Remicra growled. "And you!" She turned to Dave. "Let go of my hand before you get more metal poisoning!"

Dave refused to let go of her.

"Stop being reckless!" Remicra yanked her hand away from his. "If you want to keep pawing at me like this, you need to get a proper magic affinity first! I'm not going to be responsible for you getting sick just because you can't keep your hands to yourself!"

"Hrm," Dave considered, rubbing his throbbing fingers, watching as Healy bounced towards his hand. "Which one would work best to resist Pathosteel without poisoning me horribly?"

"Actually," Cedez interrupted, her ears flattening. "You can't get another affinity. Our entire plan falls apart if you stop being a pure human."

Dave turned to the foxgirl, considering her words.

"Right now, you're perfectly positioned to act as a Highborn Lord. Pure humans are rare and are given preference by those in power in Shandrian society. It's what makes our cover story believable. The moment you get a second affinity, we are boned,” Cedez extrapolated.

"She's right," Remicra admitted reluctantly, crossing her arms. “Heal those bruises and stop grabbing me. You need to look presentable as an Illatius-born Lordling for the Guild for Lord Burgundy’s Estate not to suspect anything.”

“Yeah. We need you to maintain your human alignment if we want to actually change things,” Cedez added. “As much as I hate Shandria… I’m still stuck here, bound to its walls. As our lovely, fake Highborn, you're our ticket to improving things for everyone here.”

Dave eyed Healy pawing at his bruised fingers and then looked at Cedez’s gloved hands. A metaphorical lightbulb ignited in his head. He dug into his side bag and pulled out Castiss’ outfit.

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“What if I wear something like this?” he asked. “Leather studded with purified mana gems! It should act as a Faraday cage for magic!”

"That dress won't fit you unless you suddenly become a lot curvier," Cedez commented, eyeing the gem-studded outfit.

"We could take it to a seamstress," Dave suggested. "Have it modified and..."

"No. It's designed for a female mage, you dolt. Give me that,” Cedez rolled her eyes, snatching the outfit from his hands.

“Sooo…” Dave began.

"Out!" The fox declared, shoving him towards the door. "Go downstairs and wait. Remy and I will handle this."

"But-" Dave protested.

"No butts! Shoo. Go drink coffee or something!"

Dave found himself unceremoniously expelled from the loft. With a shrug, he headed down to the cafe where Hyrei was managing the afternoon crowd.

"The usual?" The owlgirl asked as he settled at a corner table.

"Yes, please," Dave nodded.

He spent the next half hour people-watching and enjoying his mafic-crafted latte. The cafe had attracted quite a diverse crowd - merchants, Healers, and all sorts of adventurers discussing their Quests. A few merchant carts were parked on the meadow below the hill, twinkling Kitlix lanterns swinging in the wind.

Finally, in about forty minutes, Cedez and Remicra emerged from the lighthouse. Dave nearly choked on his coffee.

Remicra was no longer wearing her grime-covered metalworker's apron. Instead, she wore a black leather outfit nearly identical to Cedez's, complete with crystalline gems all over it that caught the light. The form-fitting attire highlighted her draconic features while the gems seemed to complement her naturally iridescent face, which was now dancing with orange and pink waves. Crystalline, ruby hair spilled across dark leather-covered shoulders. A semi-transparent pyramid covered in small shimmering studs framed her chest.

“Wow,” Dave exhaled. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” The dragoness looked distinctly uncomfortable as she tugged at her leather glove. "Ugh. This feels... weird," she muttered. “Like I’m… exposed.”

“There!” Cedez declared, slumping into a chair across from Dave. “Now you can grab all the butts you want to!”

Remicra’s entire face flushed pink.

“What are you even whining about?” Cedez asked. “This is much less exposed than the metal-bug apron!”

The dragoness opened her mouth to fire a retort.

“She wasn’t even wearing anything under that grody-ass, bug-apron, can you believe it?” Cedez grinned with sharp chompers at Dave which made Remicra’s blush even more intense as she choked on her words.

"How exactly did you modify the outfit so quickly?" Dave asked, trying not to stare too obviously at Remicra. “Remy’s taller than Castiss.”

“Professional Shadowmancer trade secret,” Cedez replied with a cheeky grin.

“She, uhm,” Remicra let out. “Made a shadow needle and scissors to modify the outfit to fit me. I had some thread lying around. She boasted how she made her own dress this way.”

“Spoilsport,” Cedez rolled her eyes. She eyed the sun overhead which was getting close to the black hole’s corona. “I believe it’s time for dinner.”

. . .

The Nightingale tavern was already bustling when they arrived. Dumpich waved enthusiastically from a corner booth where he sat with Leon and Terri.

"Oy guys! Over here!" The horned healer called out.

As they approached, Dave noticed Terri's posture stiffen slightly, her green eyes fixing on Remicra's new attire with an unreadable expression.

"Looking sharp, there smith!" Dumpich whistled appreciatively. "That's quite an upgrade from the apron! What’s the occasion?”

“They’re on a date,” Cedez bounced into the seat beside Dumpich.

Remicra's scales momentarily flickered pink as she slid into the booth, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Dave sat next to her while Cedez bounced into the seat beside Dumpich.

The two fell into easy banter, sharing stories from Dumpich's adventuring days. Their comfortable familiarity made it clear they knew each other for a while.

Meanwhile, Terri seemed unusually quiet, her attention divided between Dave and occasional glances at Remicra and Cedez. There was something tense in her posture, like a bowstring pulled too tight.

"So," she finally addressed Dave. "How are you adjusting to Shandria?”

“Better. Feel like things are looking up,” Dave replied. His hand found Remicra’s gloved fingers under the table.

“That’s nice to hear,” Terri replied.

“Ceddy! How about one for old times?” Dumpich grinned in the meantime.

“Oh, you’re on,” Cedez suddenly stood up with a grin.

“Oh wait, you don’t have your instru…” Dumpich began.

“Don’t need it,” Cedez grinned. She whispered something to Shady, and the dark Kitlix flowed into the shape of the guitar-violin.

“Daymn,” Dumpich commented. “Where have you been hiding that dark cutie?”

“Trade secret,” Cedez tutted.

"If you'll excuse us," the foxgirl announced with a theatrical bow to the group at the table. She and Dumpich made their way to the empty, dark stage at the front of the tavern, sending Terri what could only be described as a challenging, smug smirk.