Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; they hate you at first; swearing; canon typical violence (mentioned); device hacking + privacy being breached; threats (directed at MC); spoilers for several Cantos; written by someone who's still on Canto 6 </3; probably OOC; MC implied to play on phone; NOT PROOFREAD
Notes: Lil celebration post as my requests finally open!!! Also I wanna try using m-dashes now. It isn't AI I just like how m-dashes look
To them, you meant their downfall. Your very existence. Your inane ramblings. Your voice. Your stupid voice…
You simply being there proved it was all fake. All the suffering, all the growth, all the memories and relationships. All false events slipped and interwoven into their minds like a plague.
None of it was real. None of what they went through- were made to go through- was real.
So why? Why do you now sit safely behind that invisible wall, voice ringing in their ears as you chat with people around you and things around you and to them. To them?
You can't even comprehend how your mere existence ruined their lives. Ruined any dreams, hopes, goals. All burned by a single word and left them stranded with the ashes as you continued as if you didn't even know. Did you even know? Could you even understand?
But it wasn't like they could get rid of you. You were safe. Simply just a presence they were forced to hear again and again and again.
…
Each and every Sinner, at least once, wished they could kill you. Find and mangle your body, try to ruin you as you ruined their lives. They hated you, they swore they hated you.
Well… not one.
Dante had no memories to lose. No relationships to watch burn. No complicated past that was so real to them and yet wasn't at all. They were simply a clock-headed manager who swore they heard you clearest of all. Each kind word you uttered, each humorous remark, each light tease, each complaint, each murmur.
They liked listening to you. They sympathized with why the Sinners and others aboard Mephistopheles felt different, yes, but they didn't understand. They had nothing to lose, and- even if the world they existed in technically "wasn't real"- you treated it as if it was. It gave them relief, in all honesty.
That probably was why the reliance came so swiftly. You gave them reason. Made it felt real. Each cheer and blissful remark as they succeeded in their goals and each bemused chuckle as comical events occurred…
Without you, well, could their life even be "real"?
Your appearance broke up the monotony of day to day life. You would usher the story along, encouraging the Sinners along their paths just as they did, and acted as if this world was a very real thing you merely peered into. Something like a book, real as long as you're there to witness it.
You had favorites, things and characters you resented, scenes you found funny or made you start to cry. You were more than a person. You were a force who strung along this world and Dante was so willing to let you lead them any which way.
They already had little say over actions, less so than the Sinners, so what even was the harm? When you clicked that "Win Rate" button, they got to choose what actions the Sinners took (even if you'd often reach in and correct them to be "better" choices). And if they were forced to bow to the whims of someone kind like you, someone who gently encouraged them to lead and rejoiced with each success, why would they complain?
All they wish is that they could've been the one to greet you whenever you open the game.
–★★★–
No Sinner warmed up to you as quickly as Dante. Well, excluding Meursault.
But to say Meursault "warmed up" to you would be quite the overstatement. In fact, he merely accepted his position and continued on as per usual. He was under the Manager's command, but- by a technicality- the Manager was under your command. Therefore, you were his true superior here.
He was willing to tolerate you and follow through on your commands. While some of your remarks were more questionable, he was willing to turn a deaf ear and continue his duty as long as you were there to give it to him. As for his real "warming up"… well, that comes later. Far later. And no one even notices when it does.
Outis as well accepted her position. Her little remarks weren't tolerated when you experienced the stories of the Sinners (she had received enough reprimand from Dante for attempting to slip a snide remark you immediately clocked and grew confused on), so all she could do was grit her teeth and go along with whatever order you issued in battle and listen to you be so foolish she wish she simply could—
…It was no use. Clearly, someone in a position like yours was better off blissfully unaware they were essentially a god looking in upon a world of dolls sat prettily for them to watch suffer again and again. Even if you were, kindly put, an actual idiot often, you were capable of slight strategy at times. Often scraping past bosses in the first few attempts if they were deemed a challenge and doing what you could to ensure fights ended in the favor of the Sinners (even if the story often turned around and said they failed).
And while certain things could improve, she wasn't going to break the orders given to her and say anything.
Ishmael, meanwhile, had to such qualms.
Specifically after her Canto, to be precise. Her confrontation with the fake woman who ruined a false life wasn't what she yearned it to be the moment she started going down this path, yet you treated it as if it were real. Being horrified at the things she suffered through and cheering as she speared through the Whale's heart with her snag harpoon.
She wanted to scream it was fake. That it didn't matter and was pointless. But you… you made it had a point. Somehow, someway, you forced it to be real. Real to her, at least.
But, by the name of the Head, your team building skills were pathetic. These passives won't work well with this character- This isn't even a keyword for the central team comp and offers no support- Did you just attempt to put Sunshower Heathcliff onto a team you want to use to complete Canto 7? What is wrong with you?
While she isn't allowed to directly intervene, she is going to make comments in the story. Slight, missable things. Hints to what keywords to use for an upcoming boss, recommendations for IDs and EGOs… all carefully crafted to keep you as oblivious as possible as she drills this information into you.
Of course, the wiser of the Sinners catch on to what she was doing. Yet, Faust has no complaints. Being the way she is, it hadn't taken her especially long to catch onto the fact that she- being the primary ID of all Fausts- was the most real one. The others barely existed outside of IDs or EGOs you'd cycle through for each team comp you struggled to compile- even with a certain Sinner's help- and yet she, and only she, would be the one found in each Canto. Returning in each story, central to the plot.
Not to mention, you clearly had a soft spot for her. Specifically her, as the LCB Faust. She couldn't necessarily place it's source- perhaps relating to her role as a shunned figure in the Gesellschaft and connecting it to your own life- or simply finding her to be specifically likeable. Either way, you seemed to listen intently to her lectures. Often complimenting her or something akin to that.
And to say she didn't enjoy it would be an utter lie. She relished in your praise, almost blooming in it like a flower under the sun. It was the first genuine praise she constantly earned in her life, real or fake. And she'd much prefer if it stayed, flowing around her in a constant veil she wanted to wear on her day in and out.
And she was Faust. She was wise enough that, if you stopped enjoying the game, you would leave. Therefore, to regulate success in the form of viable teams was immensurable in ensuring you stayed. Thus, Ishmael was permitted to continue her hints and Faust did what she could to tweak the rates of Extraction in your favor. Especially if the newly released character was something you want.
Furthermore, making her base ID appear in your pulls regularly surely wouldn't bother you. You may question how you acquire so many of her EGO shards, but she knows you will care little about the constant Fausts as you see the chains shine gold.
Yi Sang doesn't miss Ishmael's actions either. He's simply unable to truly comment on it in a way that feels as if it truly meant something. Out of each Sinner, he is one of the most devastated his entire history was a lie. Forced to time and time again witness people he remembers as friends tear themselves and others apart by a past that was never real. Even at the end of his Canto, he felt like he had only slipped deeper into the shell of who he was.
Even your joy didn't make him regaining his wings feel real. Merely a scripted event he was made to undertake. He felt rather pathetic, in a sense. Even his current compatriots were more capable of coping than he was. But he could not.
And when you noticed he continued to behave similarly to how he did pre-Canto. Noticing a few missing lines here and there and slight alterations anyone could've missed. But you commented, and you worried for him.
Perhaps it was simply a worry stemming from an issue with your game, but Yi Sang noticed your murmurs of concern. And to say it didn't warm his heart would be a lie. Constant encouraging, sweet worry, almost delusional behavior on your end… You made him want to use those wings he regained, to fly once more. To reach you so high up in the sky and thank you for the love you gave him.
A part of him regretted he never truly could. Never could thank you, or feel your warm skin, or hold you in his arms. Never could utter so much as a new sentence without your experience being warped and you'd leave in fear. But that didn't matter to how his feelings of you changed.
You went from the being that proved it all to be fake to the being that made him feel a genuine warmth he'd never feel again. Perhaps that's why he was the first to admit his love for you.
And his admission wasn't necessarily popular. By this point, out of every Sinner, only about a third of them felt positively about you. To the others, you still were the personification of their ruin.
Of course, though, their attachment grew as you watched them through each of their stories. Encouraging and watching them move forward. Perhaps that was how the seeds of obsession were planted. Perhaps it was because others heard little snippets of what you said and assumed you to be a divine being. Perhaps that was why they started to believe it too.
Don Quixote became one of your most reverent followers by the end of her Canto. Not only had you bore witness to a past she herself wasn't aware of existing (unlike the others, her devastation over the fact her life was nothing but fake fizzled away rather swiftly) and your perception of her barely changed (leave her blissfully unaware you always knew, will you?), but you had listened with rapt attention when she spoke of her beloved Fixers. You deemed each word she uttered as meaningful, and she would do all she could to repay you in whatever way she can.
When you were gone- oh it was painful when you were gone- she was your greatest defender. Any snide comment against you was quickly retorted with a quick yell and charge from her. How dare they slander someone as kind as you! You did not mean to shatter their worldviews! No. After it happened for a second time, she understood you quite well. You only meant well.
You were a truly just figure—the very thing Don would picture when thinking of such a thing. And she would do all she could to ensure your name remained untainted with foul lies and remarks! Alas, she could not speak to you. Could not lead you about her room and show you each memorabilia and merchandise she has collected for every Fixer she could find merchandise of. She could not see you listen with rapt attention, seeing you nod along from the corner of her eye. Could not hold your hand in hers and usher you about, shield you from those who wished you harm, could not sing your praises to your face…
But she would be your knight for as long as you were unaware, and for long after.
Heathcliff was in a similar boat to Don. However, at first, he absolutely despised you. Was his love for Cathy even real? Why was he forced to recall suffering that never even existed outside of pieces of code etched into his being? And why did you have any right to saunter about and act as if you…
You're lucky the others held him back from screaming his head off at you. You're also lucky to be safely behind a screen, separated from him and the bat he would love to use to split your skull in half.
But then came along his Canto. It wasn't something he was looking forward too, not feeling ready to go back to Catherine—not with all these doubts of his love you sown in him. But this wasn't something he was allowed to change.
So he went through it. Listening to your words that made him want to pop a blood vessel, deal with the bastards who didn't even truly exist, and find out she was dead. He had to confront his other self, distort, and then fight the Wild Hunt until the Red Gaze stepped in.
But as the Canto started to creep to its end… he couldn't muster that hate for you anymore.
Maybe because you didn't leave. Maybe because you let him rest on that moment with the memory of Catherine. Maybe because you mourned alongside him as she was deleted.
He remembered, he was forced to remember. Him and only him.
But you remembered too. Of course you did, you weren't in the bloody game, but…
It was nice knowing someone remembered her alongside him. That, even if he nor she were real, their love was. What he felt wasn't something that could be forced into him, he knew it.
It grew harder to stop him from saying lines that weren't supposed to be in game. Specifically regarding Catherine. Constant comments about her, confusion from the Sinners, but sympathy from you. He wanted you and him to talk about her. Someone who recalled her to hear all the stories he remembered having with her. And you were that someone. You were someone he wanted to walk and reflect with, the real journal he wanted to keep.
You became his new Catherine. The two of you separated, but in love. And he refuses to mess up like how he did with Catherine. There will be no Erlking when it comes to you.
But with Gregor, the Ungeziefer Kaiser is inevitable. Not out of malice—no. The fight was something he couldn't prevent, as much as both of you wished he could.
It wasn't a pleasant thing, first having everything he knew uprooted and then suffering through… That. He already felt lowly enough, with his arm and past experiences. He couldn't understand why you seemed to… like him?
You were sweet, appearing unbothered or regularly forgetting about his arm. You thought of him as entirely a human, not the pathetic bug he knew he was. He didn't resent you for forcing him and his coworkers to learn they were never real. He didn't resent you for not leaving and constantly reminding them again and again they were just bits of code in a device. But he couldn't understand how you thought so highly of him.
In all honesty, he didn't think you were half-bad. He didn't get too attached to you or despised you too much. You were alright, and he was alright with you. Then came the Ungeziefer Kaiser fight.
After that, it was like a switch flipped. He was horrified to realize he could be forced into becoming a brutal boss-fight you'd helplessly grow stuck on or struggle past. He was miserable to be left out of the plot for a long time after, alone from everyone.
Being unable to hear your voice for the first time after growing so used to it felt off. He just felt entirely off. When alone with only his thoughts, that's when his opinion of you spirals. And it does moreso when he gets back.
Hearing the relief in your voice… overjoyed to see him return and using the new IDs you acquired for him with utter glee… He came to realize you loved him. You had to. Why else would you be so glad to see him okay? He couldn't see any other reason for you feeling like this. And, in a way, he supposed he loved you too. Couldn't understood what you saw in him, but… A part of him enjoys your love. He'd rather it didn't disappear.
Unlike the others though, he wasn't particularly skilled at hiding his newfound infatuation with you. And Rodion would relentlessly tease him, as if she hasn't been in love with you since Time Killing Time.
Was it something she'd simply fess up to? Oh, absolutely not. She's not that gutsy, after all. She simply knew that, by the end of that Intervello, she had decided she loved you. There was no big build-up like Heathcliff or sudden change like Gregor. She simply decided you were no longer annoying and instead were rather cute.
Funny, how thin a line annoying-ness and cuteness is. And it was simple enough you crossed the line and became a harmless crush. But, having a crush that you can't act on and merely grows as you don't leave, well… It went from harmless to so, so much worse.
And unlike the crush, she was well aware of how wrong she was. What kind of woman began to view someone as a possession? But in a sense, you weren't truly a thing to her. You existed outside of her world as a voice who could control the actions taken during combat at most. She saw no physical body of yours, no eyes or skin or anything. She already wasn't entirely sure you viewed her as a human, and she wasn't able to entirely humanize you.
Well, you were doing the same thing, weren't you? Just listening in, thinking of her as just a beloved PNG with text in a box below… Maybe making some things for her or admiring her, but not thinking of her as real, no? She was sure you'd make some fucked up shit about her, wouldn't you? So how wrong was she really? You're just as bad as her…
Oh, don't worry! She doesn't hate you for it, no. You're both shitty people with how you think of each other. What's the harm in both of you being shitty together? Shame there's that screen separating you two, and the others on this bus thinking the same as her… Wanting her winnings? She'd be offended if she didn't understand why. And at least some of 'em are cute about it, like Gregor or Sinclair…
And speaking of Sinclair… He is the most wet, sad, pathetic thing when it comes to you. Already you cooing over him flusters and embarrasses him. But he can't see your face when you do it. And he is so lucky there doesn't exist a sprite of him blushing for you to see…
It also took him quite awhile to fall for you. Mostly due to what you did for him and… well… his trauma. He sometimes wondered if he was as good as a prosthetic user because he isn't real. He never was. Does he even count as a human..?
Yet, by the time Canto 7 ended… well, he was used to your kindness. You wormed your way into his mind until almost every thought involved you. How would you react to this..? Would you enjoy this kind of thing? How would he protect you if..?
There were many what-ifs for someone he couldn't truly interact with. Someone the mere thought of made him tremble. He wondered so many things about you, but feared he'd never get the answers he wanted. He'd never talk face to face with you. He'd never hold your hand. He'd never…
Hong Lu, though, wasn't as caught up by these what-ifs. To be quite honest, he was rather apathetic to you before his Canto. Oh? So your arrival came with worldview shattering realizations? Oh well, it is what it is.
Then came his Canto. Where he finally learned how to express his opinions on things. Where he finally figured that he didn't like you due to what you made him realize. Sure, you were kind, but you destroyed any semblance of existence he thought he had. But a part of him wasn't sure, so he kept thinking. Trying to formulate just what he thought of you.
And by the end of Canto 9, he came to the realization he actually liked you. Sure, the realization that his life was never real was not something enjoyable, but it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean any ill will by trying to play a game you enjoyed.
And on the contrary, you were quite a likeable person to hear. Made a good few humorous jokes, took serious moments as solemnly as you could, and served as more of a guide than Vergilius did. What was there not to like? Shame he's forbidden from speaking with you… he'd like to hear more about what you think on a wide array of random topics.
Ryōshū, meanwhile, could genuinely care less. She already forgot pieces of her life, already had the trauma from the Nursefathers, already had suffered so much. What was one more thing on the pile? S.H.E.E.T. (She had expected everything, thickhead).
If she had her way, she'd S.Y.N.C. you. You quite honestly annoyed the hell out of her. She'd want you to S.T.F.U. constantly. But you wouldn't, and she couldn't, so she just had to begrudgingly deal with it. And all she could do to resist was make Faust withhold her IDs and EGOs from you in Extraction.
Then came her Canto and her change of heart. Maybe it came from forgetting Araya. Maybe it came from your warmth now truly directed at her. But she didn't want you to B.U.R.N. anymore (break up, run now). She didn't know why herself, but all she knows is she—like the others—fell to your whims. Impressive, T.B.H.
Though her interest manifested in the worst forms. Notably, with how she wanted to turn you into A.R.T. (Absolutely relentless torture). Your body would be soft and malleable under her, a perfect canvas for whatever suffering she wanted to paint on you. She wanted to see you powerless, looking up at her in fear, and understand how she felt below you. And after, she wanted to nurse you back to health so it could start all over again.
She was one of the latest to fall, but the quickest to spiral into complete utter obsession. Almost ironic, in a sense.
And then there were the others on the bus.
Vergilius was perhaps the most affected by your presence. Unlike the Sinners, he would get no Canto. He would be given no opportunity to see those he remembered and move beyond his past. He wasn't even a playable character, merely a playable NPC who's join a fight or two now and again.
Yet, he tolerated you. Begrudgingly, of course, after all, you annoyed him as much as Don did, but he tolerated you nonetheless. You weren't something he could get rid of, not without fuss and the worry that—without you—they'd eventually cease to exist.
He watched the others fall to your apparent spell with faint disgust but hesitant acceptance. He could not control the others, just as you could not control him in battle. He also wasn't particularly inclined to tease anyone like Rodion or grow angry with them like Outis—well, not that they had any right to make fun of anyone when they felt the same way…
He doesn't even realize when he falls. He doesn't even realize he did fall. There isn't even a specific point where he does fall. It takes a long time, yes, but it comes. And he only realizes when Charon comments on how happier he looks when he hears you finally log on and progress the story, or do a Mirror Dungeon run, or anything of the sort.
Charon herself isn't bothered by you. In all honestly, she always knew this was a game yet didn't care as long as she had Verg and Mephi. Though, now she has you too. You make Verg perk up slightly when you finally show up, and Mephi likes you… well, she guesses she likes you too then. Disappoints her you aren't here, but she copes better than the others do. Anyways, with the rate they're going, their work at getting out of the game to meet you will be finished in a little while. So, she, you, and Verg can all be a family soon enough.
She wonders who's going to wear the wedding dress in the marriage. Probably Verg.
–★★★–
If they were only a little more patient, everything would've probably ended in their favor. But no.
The well of content had run dry. All current story? Completed. All current events? Completed. IDs? EGO? All you wanted that were out as gathered as you could get them (your newfound "luck" was instrumental to that), and leveled up and threadspun too. So, outside of dailies and MD, there wasn't much to stick around for.
And they started to panic. Sure, every few weeks new content would drop for you to play for, but you were appearing to lose interest. Not in the series, no—they hear how you consume fan content (it isn't the same as spending time with them), but in the game. If you were gone, they'd be…
They didn't want to know what would happen if you left. If you deleted them. If you suddenly stopped being there. They didn't want you to go. Even nights without you were almost unbearable now. What would happen if it became a week? A month? Forever?
So they came up with a plan. A very stupid, very rushed plan. They'd get access to the rest of your device.
It was hard enough to dig into the code—their life blood—to find the permissions. It was even harder to alter them, change what the game was allowed to access. Especially when they realized they needed you to tap the little button and approve them accessing these things.
But they were in too deep to give up now.
When you logged on, you were startled to see, "'Limbus Company' would like to access Camera," as a pop-up. But when you clicked, "Don't Allow," the pop-up came back. Every time you tried to deny it, it kept popping up.
Then the text read, "Just let us see you," and you nearly chucked your device through the nearest window. But curiosity overtook you, and you allowed it.
Then the next pop-ups came. Location, Contacts, Storage, Call Logs, Gallery, Memory, Personal Information, other apps…
And when the Microphone came up, all the text next to it said, "We already hear you." You nearly went and uninstalled the game right there. By this point, you came to the realization your game was hacked and you made a horrible mistake, or…
Then there was Dante's sprite standing in a blank, empty void.
<Sorry about that…> The textbox read, <We couldn't get access to what we needed to otherwise.>
And then they confirmed that, yes, they were aware of you. Always were (at least since you showed up). They wanted to finally reveal it to you, but you weren't given a reason. The text continued, growing faster over time, until you just shut off the game and buried the device in a drawer somewhere.
You checked it again the next morning, and found it open on your Notes app.
"Don't do that again. We can make you regret it."
And then came the slow, painful process of trying to change everything. Your email, phone number, important information like pins and passwords… all when the aggressors causing this came from inside the very device you now tried to get rid of.
It was a hard, delicate balance. Especially when the characters would lull or pressure you into opening the game, into chatting with their sprites and silent voice lines because they didn't know how to artificially create voiced lines for you to listen too. Especially when they inevitably noticed and did all they could to destroy your progress.
But it was too late. You were able to change it all, let everyone know you changed it all, and throw the device far, far away. You accepted you never could risk playing Limbus again, stuck solely to watching others enjoy this game. But it was for your own good.
But you should've known you weren't safe.
–★★★–
Living alone came with benefits and losses.
The most notable loss, though, was there was no one to help protect you when they showed up.
It was late at night. Sun set, hour past ten, and you were relaxing alone in the safety of your general living space. There was something small playing on the TV, mindless background noise as you folded laundry. It was still warm in your hands, and smelled just like your favorite soap. A bit of mindless comfort that got your mind off things.
Your hands had finally stopped shaking now. The thought of your strange game was far in the past. Months have gone by, anyways, with nary an issue in sight. You had many plans going forward, especially for the upcoming weekend. But for now, all you focused on was laundry.
Then there was a knock at the door. At this hour? Naturally you checked, why wouldn't you? But the sight you were met with… How were they here?
"Open the door." Vergilius ordered simply. His voice speaking in a non-Korean language was… jarring. You heard ticking, probably from Dante, but you couldn't understand it. You just moved as far from the front door as you could.
"We know you heard us." Faust told you, "The lights in your home are activated, strongly indicating you are here."
You started to lose track of who was saying what when they spoke again.
"C'mon bud, let's just make this easy and open this door…"
"Attempting to resist is futile, Player!"
"Open this bloody door already! Before we just knock it down!"
"Mine dearest player, I implore thee to welcome us into your abode!!"
"Y.I.B.H.A.N."
"I- I agree-! Just… please let us in..!"
"What do you hope to get out of this? We know where you live."
"Aww~ Look at your home! I hope ya got enough room in there to fit all of us~"
"I understand if this intrusion startles you, but-"
"Is it really that hard to open a door? Perhaps they work differently here."
"The Manager has requested I-"
The sudden banging on your door made your head spin, and you realized—in horror—they're trying to knock it down.
So you fumbled to unlock the thing and swung it open. Your chest heaved, and you stared at the fifteen people standing on your porch, illuminated by it's light and the glowing bulbs from the inside of your own home.
You couldn't muster up a word to say as Charon moved to the front of the small crowed.
"We're home now. Charon wants to go inside."
–★★★★★–
Final Note: A tier list summarizing when each Sinner starts to simp (Featuring the Driver and Guide)
Sorry I didn't go super in detail to all of the yandere ass behaviors these dorks did. Mostly this was just a "what if" thingy. May make this a series if people request follows up. Good thing my requests are open!! lololol
❆ His obsession is very tame before his Canto. Really you can do what you want without him interfering like other Sinners would. He's at your beck and called to be swayed in an aimless direction.
❆ For a long time he's had no desires of his own, no will, drifting around a world outside his comfortable life before. He does not deserve to desire. Nothing truly matters in the end. Yet you cause a different feeling. He cares for all the sinners and company to an extent. Yes. Yet you make him want.
❆ He's known nothing but luxury, so it's how he expresses his affinity for you, by trying to provide you those experiences. He was raised in a place where money held power. The families with the most money were safe once reconstruction days came. Leaving the poor to fall from their homes, be crushed between the rearranging walls, and lose their homes.
❆ It's little things. Standing closer to you on the bus and when out and about. Whatever team you split off into he'll try to go with. Going to whatever cooking team in the one intervallo based on where you go. Swiftly going to assist you during battles.
❆ He'll listen to you talk for hours. An absent smile on his face. Small commentary that ultimately amounts to very little. Humming happily to himself. Content to just listen. He'll remember parts he thinks are important, namely your likes and dislikes.
❆ If someone else comes to talk to him while he's listening to you, his smile falters a bit to a neutral thin line. He only starts to really listen if you do. Otherwise he's waiting for them to go away. Making a passive aggressive comment on how they have other things to be doing, reminding them of a duty, or something similar.
❆ He's quick to compliment you for smallest things. Something flashy you did in battle, a witty joke, a slight change to outfit, really anything that takes any amount of effort. Sometimes doing the bare minimum gets odd praise from Hong Lu. It's a bit condescending at times.
❆ He showers you in gifts whether you ask or not. He's getting you whatever you slightly show interest in. He pays things for you even when you don't ask. He uses his privilege and prestige to get things to go your way when in his district. It's no big issue. The bare minimum for his friend. He has the money to spend, why not on you?
❆ He'll sneak into your room when you're not around. Looking over your items. Guessing the age, the price, the rarity if he can. Trying to compare it to anything he's had. Gazing curiously over each one. Some if they're withered enough he'll buy replacements for you unexpectedly. He'll ask questions about items unprompted to you. He never says it's as a result of looking in your room, he never mentions the item being yours, simply stating he's heard of the item or saw it in a pamphlet. He just figures you might know.
❆ When fights arise he's quick to tank a bunch of damage for you. Serene look on his face as he's splayed on the ground. Don't look at him that way! He'll be fine. Dante can simply rewind the clock. Don't worry about him. It really doesn't hurt.
❆ Arrival in Hongyuan makes him graviate a bit closer. Hoping to protect you and reassure you from the ire of his family. Along with keeping a close eye in evaluation. No one plays fair here. Heishou on the crawl, assassins, family disputes, sabotage, and the refusal of death. Just as it was when he was young.
❆ Once his Canto passes and the old ways are broken. He's more free to be himself. To voice an opinion. Including his opinions on you. He comments on other sinners' behaviors towards you if he thinks it's inappropriate. He's the first to reply and add onto things you've said.
❆ When he invites himself into your room, he takes more care, pondering sentimental value of things. Seeking to restore or maintain your items rather than replace them with new items. Looking through any journals and books. Seeking for words and thoughts you hide away as he once did with his.
❆ He follows you around in the shadows, crowds, all to see you in your natural state. What do you do when he's not there? What do you do on your own when you mingle around? What catches your eye? What do you go out of your way to engage with?
❆ He pries a bit more for personal things from you. Wanting to hold deeper conversations he's been deprived of. He wants to serve your humanity to the fullest. If he feels your holding back.. he'll offer you some tea. A family brew. Oh you feel weird? Maybe you're allergic to something in it. He'll make a different cup for you next time.
❆ He privately makes passive aggressive and demeaning comments to those he think shouldn't be near you. Seeding ideas of doubt. All that can be brushed off as him being ignorant.
❆ Of course he is less ignorant than he was before. Now he devoted all his attention, his wants, and thoughts to you. The obsession takes a proper root in his heart as it starts to truly beat again.
Warnings: Obsession and general yandere behavior; non-sexual nudity; mild main character harm; blood; mentions of canon typical violence; body dysphoria; self-loathing; body horror; heavily implied self-harm (not lethal and not written in detail); angst then fluff; technical infantilization directed towards MC
Note: Decided to try some new things while writing this one!! And sorry for how long it took to come out.
I really hope Canto 10 doesn't come out and tell me Kromer was still alive, and then I have to bullshit a reason as to how the plot will work.
"Weird, usually you're better at creative descriptions than I am… How about this? Think of the universe itself as a tree. Distinct worlds- the branches of this tree- are connected to a trunk. Different timelines would be twigs connected to this branch, with leaves maybe being a random timeline based off the first one."
"And we wish to look beyond just other twigs… and at other branches?"
"Yes! We want to see what connects them to this one trunk. That is, if the universal tree theory is even true. I heard some people think the universe is a donut, with some solid evidence, but why a donut? What does a donut have to do with a universe?"
"…It's shape, probably."
"Oh- You know that's not what I mean, Elena!"
"Hehe, I know. I'm just teasing you!"
—
You're in that void again. Trapped in that oppressive nothingness.
You push, and push, and push until you come tumbling out onto the ground, water sticking to your skin.
Ah. It's raining.
A torrential downpour that soaks you to your very bone. You're not wearing the proper clothes for this weather, and the water falling from the sky sinks into the fabric that feels painfully thin on your body.
You don't know where you are. Surrounded by towering sepia buildings underneath a dark swirling sky with freezing air biting at your drenched skin. It's the middle of the night- hopefully not close to when Night on the Backstreets begins- and there's no one around.
You simply start walking, wondering if this is a dream. What kind of dream is this..?
Judging from the way your hands look different… maybe you went back into the past again.
But how? And who's past are you in?
The rain bites at your skin, but you continue onward. The deep puddles soak through your shoes and nip at your feet, and the street is dark save for an occasional lamp set at each corner. There is no trace of life at this hour.
At some point, your legs give way and you tumble to the ground. Your palms catch you, digging into the concrete below, and you shake the water from your tail as you stand up once more. In this state you have no bandages and your clothes are akin to something you'd wear any day of the week during the colder months. But now they're so wet you can see through to the red flesh below. Though, that skin is dulled by what almost seems like a filter, dimmed yet nonetheless vibrant.
You examine your palms, staring at the drops of dulled, ruby red blood that oozes out from the scrapes. So your blood really was not always that enkephalin-like substance…
When did it change?
It's not the only scraped part of your body. You dug straight through your pants and into the skin below, and the wings on your hips have lost a few feathers when you landed atop them. With a sigh, you pull yourself up and keep going until your knees almost collapse once more.
This time, you come to rest against a wall just beyond the light of a lamp-post. You crawl under the measly overhang above you, trying to shield the rain from your face. If you're in the past, you don't want to see if disease and injury carries over to the present. The reverse doesn't occur, clearly, but you'd rather not risk it.
Of course, it's hard to prevent sickness when you're stuck outside at night and being drenched to the bone. Even the overhang far above doesn't shield you from the rain. You simply bring your knees to your chest and huddle for any warmth you can find. You stare at the raindrops splattering the ground, and feel them land atop your head.
Elena would've adored this weather… she always loved the rain.
…How could you have forgotten her? What else did you forget if you didn't recall her until merely a day ago? What kind of friend are you?
That is, unless something else hid those memories from you… but what could've possibly hid them?
…
You were working on something with her. Something important. And it wasn't just her. But what was it? And who were you working with..?
What could possibly be going on..? How—
You realize the raindrops aren't hitting your head anymore. Yet, the sound of their impact is almost twice as intense as before. You blink, raising your head to see… A man holding an umbrella over you? His hair is a dark- relatively dull, though that may be due to the sepia that taints everything- green, and his eyes are a bright lime that seems dim in the dark environment. His round glasses are foggy in the cold rain, and he wears a thin clear poncho of sorts over a semi-formal brown suit. In his hands, he's offering you his umbrella.
Slowly, you reach up to take it. Your fingers brush his, and he pauses.
"Ah— your hand." His voice is soft, and he gently takes you outstretched hand in his free one. "Did you fall?"
Your face heats up. "I- uh- I—"
He chuckles lightly. "There's no need to be embarrassed. The weather is particularly nasty today, after all…"
"Y- Yeah. It is…" You hesitate, taking the umbrella from him. He merely smiles in response.
"Do you mind waiting here for a minute?"
"Not like I have anywhere else to go…"
The man chuckles. "Touche."
—
It's been far over a minute since that man left. But, at the very least, he was kind enough to let you keep his umbrella.
The pitter-patter of the rain on the dark nylon dug into your ears as time wore on. Your thoughts were struggling to keep you awake, even if the cold water that ensnared you in a freezing blanket made you shudder uncontrollably.
Sharp teeth clicked as the collided against your will, wet clothes sticking to red skin. The rain seemed to dissolve into mist as it landed on the concrete and blacktop. It blurred your vision, and your hands and feet stung. It was strangely hard to hold onto the umbrella now, with swollen and wrinkled fingers trying to remain wrapped around the plastic.
But through the pounding rain, you hear a voice. No- three voices, only one that's vaguely familiar.
"■■■■■■■■—! What are we even-?"
"■■■■■■■■ has a point, it's-"
"They're right around-"
You raise your head to see three vague humanoid figures, shadowed despite the lamps, framed by rain and mist.
"What the-?"
"…My-"
It's harder to hold the umbrella now. You blink at them, trying to make them out, and choke out a word.
"He..llo?"
You don't even realize when you fall unconscious. In fact, you seem to blink before finding yourself elsewhere. The rain is now simply a vague sound in comparison to the quiet chatter in the room, and you're now wrapped in towels and blankets in a small heap. You see your sopping wet clothes hung up to dry on a string over a tarp.
You turn your head to see three people, one of which being the green-haired man who gave you his umbrella. Though, a woman is sitting beside you, black hair neatly cropped to her chin and gray eyes focused on you.
When your gaze locks with her, she gives you a slight nod. You try to smile in response, exhaustion mysteriously gripping your body. But you no longer feel cold. The warmth almost feels like a tender hug.
"Um—" Your voice croaks as you try to quietly speak, "Where… am I..? Who are… you..?"
"…" She takes a breath, turning her head towards the other two. "They're awake, you know!"
"Yes, yes, we can see…" The green-haired man says, giving you a warm smile. "I'm glad to see you're alright."
"I- uhm- thank you…" You mumble, "For the umbrella, I mean. And for bringing me… here…"
Despite the lack of color, the place was rather cozy. However, that wouldn't be a fully accurate descriptor. This place was a house repurposed into a lab, with a surprising amount of equipment set up for it.
"…Ah, I've been kidnapped by scientists."
The black-haired woman snorts, and the green-haired man looks flushed. "I wouldn't necessarily say 'kidnapped'- We brought you in from the rain and- well you were unconscious, and—"
"I suppose one could call it kidnapping…" The strange man in the top hat murmurs, almost amused. You can't make out his face. "But kidnapping comes with ill intentions, doesn't it?"
"Well-" You sigh, "I'm not an expert in language, so I can recite the definition off the top of my head, but I don't think the definition of kidnapping involves 'ill will'. Though, I guess it can depend on the dictionary the definition is sourced from..? And you got me rambling. Hm."
There's a few chuckles from everyone in the room. Hm… Why does this feel familiar? Not the people, but… the lightheartedness of it all.
"…Anyways!" You sit up a bit, "You didn't deny being scientists, eh? Why'd you drag me to a lab..? Please tell me I'm not going to be dissected."
"No dissection plans here." The woman says, "But I can't confirm anything for Dongrang here."
"Dongbaek…" The green-haired man, presumably Dongrang, says with a tone of exasperation directed at the woman next to you.
Dongbaek..? That's the name of one of the bosses in Canto 4, isn't it?
Could it be that you're in Yi Sang's past? But how? You didn't make contact with his string, did you?
So how are you here..?
"Now, now. You two don't need to bicker like children." The man in the top hat says, holding up a hand. "The poor thing is clearly confused. Dongrang, as you requested to bring them here, you are responsible for their care. Including answering their questions."
"I suppose that is only fair…" Dongrang admits, before he turns his attention to you. "I suppose you caught my name, hm?"
"Yeah…" You answer with a nod, "Nice to meet you Dongrang…"
"And it's a pleasure to meet you as well."
Unconsciously, you blurt out your name. At the looks of confusion you receive, you quickly explain yourself. "My name- since I know yours, you ought to know mine, right?"
"Haha, yes, thank you." Dongrang says with that same smile. "You have a lovely name."
Why are you such an awkward dweeb..? "…Back on topic- Why am I here..?"
"Well…" Dongrang approaches you slowly, steps measured and composed. "I must admit, I've never seen anything like you before. Sure, there are some rather strange… things within the City, but you behave human compared to them."
Is this before the White Nights and Dark Days incident? Back in the present, people give you strange looks, but he's talking about you like he's never seen anything remotely like an Abnormality…
Could it be true that you're an Abnormality? You have Enkephalin in your body, but it's a more recent development… The only real confirmation of that is if you'd turn into an egg when killed, but you don't want to risk that…
"I suppose I simply want to understand what makes you tick." He holds his hands up at your expression, "Not by cutting you open. Simply observing your behavior. In exchange, with the approval of Brother Young-ji, you may stay here."
"So… what you're saying is…" You press a hand to your chin, "You'll provide me shelter, food, and water… in exchange for essentially watching me?"
"With the occasional minor experiment, yes." Dongrang says, "You don't mind, do you?"
Okay. You're in Yi Sang's past… somehow. You're being given a direct offer to stay here safely, surrounded by intelligent people who could potentially give you answers. And one of them wants to study you and potentially will be able to help figure out what happened to you. That is, if telling him anything is a good idea.
But… you know barely anything about Canto 4 beyond the ending cutscene, the fact Dongbaek is a boss, and there's something about a Sang Yi. By staying here, you could prepare yourself for the Canto.
Yet, the fact you got involved in Canto 3 raised suspicions, if Outis confronting you last night is any indicator. And even seeing you for a short period of time could raise issues. And who knows what you could mess up? What if by being involved in the past, you do something to ruin what will be the present?
What do you do..?
…
"No, I don't mind." You carefully say. "Well, Dongrang, I suppose it's a deal."
He merely smiles in response.
–★★★–
Your head aches as you sit up. Pounding on your skull like a relentless drum that gnaws at your very being in a corrosive mess of thoughts and feelings. The room is barely illuminated by the stream of sunlight pouring in through the small window, and you're nestled in a tangle of blankets and sheets. And, atop you like a precariously placed cherry, is a certain cat who stares at you with blank, wide eyes.
"Mngh… Hi Orbi…" You mumble with a yawn, a hand breaking free from the cocoon you ensnared yourself in to stroke the smooth fur of the cat. It's cool to touch compared to the warmth you've stuck yourself in.
It's only as the kitten starts to lap at your hand with a rough tongue do you realize there's bits of dried blood stuck to you. And now the bed as well, as you push off the sheets atop you.
Shit- You've ruined Dante's bed. You need to fix this, somehow. Maybe wash the sheets?
You run your hands through your hair, it always feeling like an awkward mix of human locks and a thick mist, blended together in a dark cloud attached to your body against your will. On the table beside you is a glass of water- still cold when you drink it- and a small plastic container with what appear to be small, square cookies inside. There are no notes to signal who it is from, but you have a solid guess as to who brought you these.
"How'd you sleep?"
"As fine as I could." You choke out after startling, looking at the desk Dante sits at. They've shed their overcoat and their red tie hangs loose, now simply in a black dress shirt. You try to smooth your voice, squinting at what they hold in their gloved hands. "What are you… sewing?"
They perk up, flames sparking as they appear to be… perhaps flustered? Maybe simply surprised you noticed at all.
"Ah- I'm just fixing some tears in your coat." They confess, holding up the scarlet fabric. "Or at the very least, trying to. I fear I'm doing a rather shoddy job at this…"
"…" You raise a hand as Orbi nuzzled against it, allowing her to bury the top of her head into the palm. "…Why?"
"Why?" Dante echoes, lowering their hands to rest upon the table. "I… I guess I just wanted to help you out. You feel like you're doing more managing than I am, so… Thought I'd do this favor for you."
"Uh… Thank you." You tell them, "I appreciate it."
We both know that can't be the whole reason.
You are relatively aware, but there's no harm in taking this act at face value.
And why is that the case? Perhaps they do this for you from the guilt of betraying you. Of not giving you a chance to speak. To save him.
You have more faith in Dante than Carmen.
…
"I'm- sorry about your bed." You awkwardly mutter, lifting the cat into your lap. She stares at you with large, blank eyes, before letting out her awkward meow and kneading biscuits into your thigh.
"For what?"
"Staining it with blood." You confess, "I can wash the sheets, though. They'll be clean by tonight-!"
"Oh, don't worry about that." They tell you, resuming their work. "I don't even need to sleep."
"O- oh. Okay." You mumble. Their tone was dismissive. Are they upset with you..? Did… Outis..?
"But…" Dante looks back at you, and you realize the interior of their clock is far more reflective than what you once thought. In the dim light, you barely make out your reflection. "If you really want the bed clean, I wouldn't mind washing the bed for you."
"You really don't have to—"
"Sure, I don't have to. But I want to." They almost seem to smile. "You've done so much for me, after all. Nothing in your contract said anything about doing chores for me, anyways."
You intake a sharp breath, before asking a question you immediately regret. "Is this because of Effie?"
They still, slowly freezing up. The flames on their head die down, and- for the very first time- you're entirely clueless as to what they could possibly feel. There are no hints from body language or verbal indicators. All you see when you stare at them is a clock with unmoving hands.
"…Partially." They admit with a monotone voice. "Partially not."
"…Sorry." You say with a soft voice. "I… really have a problem with saying things I shouldn't, eh..?"
They don't respond. Just quietly resume sewing. You can't bring yourself to look at them, but you have a question you really need to ask.
"…Dante?" They raise their head slightly. "Do you trust me?"
They think for a moment, a faint crackle of flame echoing in your ears. "Why wouldn't I? All you've done since you appeared before me is try to help me, do your job. In fact, you've tried to help everyone. Going out of your way to risk yourself to try to eventually save others."
"There are things about you, sure, but you seem uncertain of them yourself." They tilt their head back, staring at the ceiling with non-existent eyes. "I think out of everyone on this bus, I trust you the most. I don't see that changing either."
If only they knew. "I see. Thank you. I promise I'll ensure our contract to be fulfilled. I'll get you your head back." And then I'll go home. I'll find a way to return to being human and go home. I have to.
"…I appreciate it. I really do."
The silence in the room lasts for awhile, and you gently move Orbi off your lap- despite her vocal complaints- and stand up. "I'm gonna take a shower."
"I'll get started on washing the sheets when I finish your jacket." They reply, "I'm almost done anyways."
"Thank you." You murmur, slipping away from a bed that isn't yours and grabbing a pair of clean clothes. Carefully stepping over a small kitten who trails after you, you slip into the washroom and shut the door behind you. Then you melt to the floor.
You cannot cry, you cannot sob. You must be silent as you shake and dig your claws into your skin until deep marks remain in your flesh. How can they trust you? How can they be so stupid?
Maybe they don't. Maybe they're lying to you, just like you do to them. Maybe Outis went to them and now Dante is waiting to have a reason to hurt you. You keep messing up. Why do you keep being such a failure? A stupid, miserable, mistake of a failure! THAT'S ALL YOU ARE, AND ALL YOU'LL EVER-
Take a deep breath. Listen to me. You're emotional, scared, and acting rashly.
You're upset at the situation you're stuck in, yet take it out on yourself rather than others. Is that what you truly want?
"And why do you care-?" You ask in a whisper, "You're just a bunch of light who mutates and distorts people. And for what?"
Turning you anger out onto others now?
"Just you."
I understand why you're angry at me. You think of me as a villain, and I would think the same if our roles were reversed. I just want to tell you, all I'm trying to do is ensure you can see your desires to the very end. Hate me as long as you want, but I'm not giving up on you, even if there never comes a day you understand me.
"…"
I'll give you space to calm down. I just would like you to know this: I'll never break my promise to you.
"…What promise?" You ask to silence, and your voice slowly starts to rise, "What promise? What promise are you talking about? We met before? What are you-?"
"Who are you talking to?"
Yuri's voice startles you, and you look up. She stands over you, eye glimmering in concern, and she crouches down to your level. Her hands reach to gently brush against your cheeks, now merely the faint idea of warmth.
"It can't be Kromer, right? We're doing our best to keep her away from you… but did she find a way to get into your head to talk to you?" She asks, taking you into her embrace, "If she is, we'll get her out. Effie's already having a ball beating the shit out of her. I'm certain he'd enjoy giving you justice."
"…Kromer's haunting me now?" You weakly ask, and Yuri's eye widens.
"…Unfortunately." She confesses with a sigh. "Effie and I are switching between ensuring she can't get out of that… space we're in. So she can't bother you. It's tough, but we can't die again."
She chuckles at that last part, but softens at your expression. "Hey, we won't let her hurt you. You're gonna be okay."
Why? Why does this world seem to hate you? Out of everyone to haunt you… Kromer..?
"You're gonna be okay."
Your gaze trails down to the floor, to your hands gripping your thighs and wings wrapped around your body. There's a weird lump on the right one, nestled between black and gray feathers. And then you open it.
A small screech erupts from your throat at the sight of the eye. You drag yourself back, metal on the tips of your horns scraping against the wooden door as you desperately try to drag yourself away from the orifice in a place it shouldn't.
Seeing out of a third eye nauseates you as you stare into your own face and in horror at your own wing. You close the eye but it simply opens again and keeps staring. A golden iris that bores into you and you want it gone.
"Hey, hey-! Don't do that-" Yuri tells you, pulling your talons away from the eye you nearly tore out. "Don't. Please."
You relent. Because you always relent.
"Hey, are you alright in there?" You choke, turning your head back to the door as you try to force an ounce of cheer into your voice. As if nothing that's happening in here is.
"Haha, yep! Just- Just saw a spider. Freaked me out a lil', but I'm alright!" You call back, scurrying to your feet as you're left alone. "I'll be fine."
"If you say so." They reply, and you take a deep breath. Shower, pet your cat, and then try to cope. Try to hide the eye… and… continue surviving, you suppose.
Can't be that hard if you made it this far…
—
Your wings are pressed close to your body when you come out of the shower. Your hair is still damp, its misty texture slightly thicker and clinging to your back, soaking through your shirt. Note to self, invest in a hair dryer.
Dante is sitting on the bed, bundling its now stripped sheets up to presumably carry to the laundry room. Your coat sits neatly folded on the desk, sewing kit left open beside it. Orbi is currently taking a nap atop your coat, looking incredibly comfortable as she's sprawled out.
You go over to the cat, who blinks her disproportionally large eyes open and stares at you with not a thought in her tiny skull. You scoop her up by her armpits, holding her up and letting her body dangle. She purrs like an engine in response, and you nuzzle her with your snout. Only to immediately regret it.
"GAH-! You smell foul!" You choke out, reeling back. Dante looks over, pointing at themself in confusion. "Not you-! The cat! She smells like she found a dead rat in the closet and rolled in its guts!"
"I didn't notice she stunk…" Dante murmurs, sitting up.
"Of course you didn't! You don't have a nose." You gag, setting the cat down. "Ew- she needs a bath. Pronto. I think if I have to smell that again, I'll actually vomit."
Orbital Missile Launcher stares at you innocently. "Orbi, my sweet daughter, you smell like an actual corpse and you at getting a bath."
"…Do you want help with bathing her?" Dante offers, "We can do it after I get the washing started."
"That would be a lifesaver, thank you." You almost melt in relief, "Seriously, Dante, sometimes I wonder what I'd do without you."
Mostly because, if they didn't fall for your lie so easily, you'd probably be dead by now. Maybe even Sweeper food.
"It's the least I can do." They reply back, looking almost flustered. Shit, did you fuck up?
"Anyways!" You yelp out, "Before you go, is there anything you need me to do? Such as reviewing documents? With all the new IDs you're collecting, surely there's something, right?"
Please say yes. You need to distract yourself with anything. Anything at all. Just to stop thinking about the fact you're collecting a crap ton of shit life decisions and ghosts who actively make your life worse. And that isn't even the worst of it.
"Well… Now that I think of it, I do actually want to give you something." They answer, "But Faust needs to be here to do it… Can you give me like… ten minutes to do the laundry and get her?"
"Yeah! Sure, I can wait." You say with a smile, now uncomfortably curious. What the hell are they planning..? Should you be afraid? Why is Faust needed for this? "But… does it have to be Faust?"
"Yes, why?" Dante seems almost concerned now, "Does she make you uncomfortable?"
"Sort of..?" You grin, "But it's fine! I can handle it. Go on now! I don't wanna keep you waiting."
"…" Dante sighs, "Alright. I'll be right back."
"I'll be waiting!" You chirp back, watching them hesitantly leave the room. Once the door shuts, you shudder and unfurl your wing. The eye stares back at you, only blinking for a second before its watching resumes.
A hand goes to the mouth on your collar, feeling it under your shirt. Why is your body continuing to change? You want to stop it, but how?
If only there was a way to keep these new parts shut forever…
Then your gaze falls on the sewing kit on Dante's desk.
–★★★–
You're hiding something from me. I know it.
You're always jittery, as if something terrifies you. You talk to people that aren't there, getting aggravated and scared. You're terrified of half of the people on this bus, and seem to be missing memories you never knew were gone. Or…
I can't just ignore how Outis approached me earlier. Telling me how something was suspicious about you, how you claimed to have never been here before but so clearly have with how Kromer behaved around you. I dismissed it at first, accepting your amnesia explanation, and yet…
When I think about it, it was weird how that Demian approached you so warmly. And how you returned that warmth.
Could you be hiding having been here before? Yet… why? Why hide so much?
Of course, every Sinner on this bus is hiding something about their past, as is Vergilius and apparently Charon. And I literally cannot remember anything of my past. But what could you possibly have to hide?
And you clearly trust me. Enough to prefer my company to most on this bus. You said you "Didn't know what you'd do without me." Even after what I did, how I practically killed him, and you still care about and rely on me.
Why? How? How can you possibly care about me so much?
Perhaps… You love me? It would make sense. How easily you seemed to forgive me, how you seem to rely on me, how you're almost desperate for my approval. You love me, like how I adore you. It's the most obvious explanation.
Of course, there always could be something worse you're hiding. But I know you. I know you. You wouldn't be hiding something horrible from me. You're too… precious. Pathetic, harmless, docile… All are words to describe you. The only person I've seen you actively try to harm is Kromer. With everyone else, your weapons drag you along to do it. You… you…
There physically cannot be something horrible you're hiding from me. You look like the mere idea of telling a lie would cause you to break down. So you have to love me… right?
But now I can't help but worry… Do you love me? Or do you simply love the clock? At this point, I'm left wondering if I am the clock. If I were to regain my head… would you still care?
No… No. You said it yourself. You're only here until I find my head. And then what? You're gone forever?
Well, I brought you here once. Maybe I could bring you back again..! Or we could change something in the contract, a term of sorts that would make you stay longer. Or… maybe I don't even need to find my head. Why would I need it when I have you?
…
The sound of my hand on metal and wood rings out in several firm raps.
<Faust?> I call out, <Faust, [Name]'s awake! You can give them the thing you wanted to.>
The door slides open near instantaneously after that, an impassive-looking Faust staring at where my face would be. She peers behind me, lips twitching down slightly.
"Faust would like to ask, where is [Name]?" She utters, looking back towards me.
<They're still in the room.> I answer, <I thought I'd come grab you and bring you to them. Since they couldn't get healed by the ampules, and I don't want them to overexert themselves while still weak.>
She looks annoyed for a moment, but her face smooths out back to its usual disinterested look rather quickly. "Very well."
Its silent as Faust retreats into her room to get your gift, stepping past me to go deliver it to you.
<Actually-> Faust glances back at me, <I wanted to give them it.>
She responds by silently handing me your gift, but continues onward towards my room. I walk next to her, and don't expect her to speak up.
"Faust would advise against putting all faith in [Name]." She tells me in a calm, quiet voice. "They aren't even human."
<…Okay?> I mumble back in response, honestly rather disinterested. If you really did have ill will, you would've hurt me already. You're harmless, I know it. Harmless, gentle, shy… You can't even confess that you love me. I mean, I can't confess to you either- especially with how you'd absolutely tell me no with how that other woman exists. But you're like… a flower. A delicate blossom and I just want to be allowed to hold you. I just want you.
<Strange. I didn't leave the door open when I left…> I mutter aloud, mostly to myself. And when I walk in, well, I get the answer as to who opened it. Because Vergilius is looming over you, and you're shyly looking up at him with your cat nestled in your arms. Along with… cat treats?
"Yeah, fine, I'll bring Orbi out so Charon can pet her…" You mumble, before noticing me. "Oh, hi Dante! And Faust…"
Vergilius straightens up from where he stood too close to you, glancing back over his shoulder at me with a calm expression.
"Next time…" He mutters, nodding towards you, "Tell them when I find out about the things they try to hide."
Your face flushes, a green tint muddying the crimson of your skin as you gape. "D- Dante..? You knew that he knew..? What's next?! Did she know this whole time?"
You point an accusatory finger at Faust, who merely blinks. "Yes, Faust always knew. Faust simply is apathetic to the feline you've brought into your care."
"…How..?"
"Cat fur fell off you constantly."
You face palm in response to that, muttering under your breath.
"Okay, okay!" You take a deep breath, "Lemme get my timeline straight. When everyone left the bus, this little shithead-" You hold up Orbi in your arms, who meows softly in response, "Started screaming as if I died. You, Vergie, heard the sound, came in, saw the cat, Charon apparently followed you, she got attached to Orbital Missile Launcher here, you waited until we all got back, and talked to Faust about it. She approved of the cat for… some reason, and you decided to go get cat treats for her and refuse to explain why."
You lower Orbi with a sigh. "Why does nothing ever make sense here..?"
"You're the one who named the cat… that." Vergilius tells you, voice almost snide.
You give him a glare. "And what would you name her instead?"
Vergilius sticks out a hand towards you, and you tenderly hand him your cat. He lifts her to his face by the scruff of her neck, despite your audible protest to "be gentle with her", peering into her eyes with an almost impassive look.
"…Garnet, perhaps."
You blink, before scowling. "…She doesn't even look like a Garnet!"
"Perhaps you're merely blind."
"You little—!"
The way you two are bickering… It almost reminds me of a married couple.
…Ah.
You don't love me, do you? Maybe you love… him.
…
Dammit.
–★★★–
"So… what did you want to give me?" You ask Dante, internally cringing at how shy you sound now that Vergilius left. Why would he even want to call your cat Garnet..? Is there some sort of important connection with him and someone called Garnet?
…You should've read Leviathan.
"Oh, right!" Dante fumbles, before handing you a smooth rectangle. An uncased phone, to be exact. "Here. Faust has to help you set it up… but following your previous… incidents, we wanted to get you a way to communicate with everyone."
Ah. Okay..?
"Oh, thank you." You quietly choke out, "I didn't expect to get a phone…"
God please don't let the City have its own version of TikTok. You don't need more short-form content taking your attention span out back and making it look like a bunch of swiss cheese.
"Is it just for communication?"
"It is it's primary purpose." Faust tells you, "But access to other applications is permitted."
What is a "TikTok"?
Something you do not want to fall into the pit of again.
"I see…" You murmur, turning the phone on. "Does everything need to be set up..?"
"No, simply your profile on the selected application used by the company. Although, a walkthrough of who you will be communicating with is required." Faust leans in close, murmuring the password to the phone in your ears, and directing you to said app.
What follows is a painful and over-complicated explanation of the fact you're apparently now talking with other departments in Limbus Company, as well as the LCB itself. Although, you learned the limits of how you can customize your profile and phone itself are slim, so you're going to go wild with that.
Your definition of "wild" is making your profile picture an image of your cat, edited to have sparkles around her, spamming emoticons in your chat messages, and putting a bunch of meme references no one will understand in your bio.
…And?
I fear most will not consider that "wild," but I don't see it as a bad thing.
At the very least, Faust finished what she came to do and left, and you paused figuring out how to type with massive claws to go do the struggle that was giving a cat a bath. At the very least, Dante was very helpful in the chaotic endeavor.
Now, you have a wet- and somehow still smelly- cat lounging on a towel on your chest as you set up an account on the first social media site you found. It was a weird thing. Simply called "SNS" and functioned like a weird mixture of Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram. It also appeared to be one of the only social media in the City. Guess it's just not a common thing..? Though, there is another popular app used for streaming and videos. So who knows?
The greatest struggle that came with setting up your account was choosing a name. It had to be unique, but unable to be connected to you and your job at Limbus Company. Just something you can harmlessly goof off with…
Thus, you ultimately chose #2_Hamhampangpang_Fan, and make your profile picture an image you stole off of the official account for Hamhampangpang and slightly increased the contrast on using a free photo editor.
And you added "Hamhampangpang" in bright red text on the image.
That too.
Ironically enough, when you checked the Hamhampangpang tag, the only poster under it was the official account for the solid minute you scrolled down it. Alas… Hamhampangpang is so wonderful, it deserves more fans.
If you adore Hamhampangpang so much, why not make your account #1_Hamhampangpang_Fan?
Because you aren't him.
..?
Could you please explain what that means?
No.
Alright then.
Though, now you're curious, so you look up to see if there are really any "#1_Hamhampangpang_Fans". And, to your surprise, you find one.
An account named "#1HamhampangpangLover"? And it's private?
Hm? Did you request to follow it?
You want to see what this blog has on it.
"How's your new phone?"
You crane your head back at Dante, who's back to sitting at their desk and working on something you can't quite see from where your chair is.
"Working fine. Thanks for checking!"
"And how's Orbi smelling? Better, right?"
"Oh…" Your gaze falls back on the cat, who stinks of a rotting corpse. "No, actually… She still smells horrible. Almost rotten…"
You look back at Dante, who sits completely still.
"…Huh." They move suddenly, tapping their desk with muffled rhythmic clicks. "Maybe it's not a physical stink? We should take her to the vet. We're in K Corp, after all."
"Wouldn't that be too expensive..?" You nervously ask. "I can't even begin to imagine how much healthcare is here, especially for a cat…"
Maybe you can wrangle up money? Surely someone out there would pay for pictures of monster feet, right? How would that work? How would you open a bank account you barely have any legal documentation?
"Hey, if something's wrong with your cat, we should give her care." Dante reassures you. "Don't worry."
"We don't even have that much money..!" You squawk back. "I just think there may be…"
A better solution. Dongrang.
…
You have an idea.
"Just… give me some time. I can figure out a cheaper alternative, I'm sure."
"…If you say so…"
With a sigh, you return your attention to the device in your hands, resuming carefully navigating through the screen without marring it with an unfortunate scratch as you try to piece together the ideas of your plan. Though, a notification gives you pause.
Direct message from #1HamhampangpangLover..?
Hesitantly, you navigate to the app, squinting as you read what was sent to you.
#1HamhampangpangLover: yo
#1HamhampangpangLover: wanted to ask
#1HamhampangpangLover: why did you request to follow me
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: GAH
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: OH MY GOSH IM SO SORRY
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: I JUST SAW YOUR ACCOUNT WHEN I FINISHED MAKING MINE AND THOUGHT
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: "OH WOW!!! ANOTHER HAMHAMPANGPANG LOVER!!"
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: SO I SENT YOU A FOLLOW
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: I DIDNT EXPECT A MESSAGE
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: ~(>_<。)＼
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: IYUAJMFANSJLAS
#1HamhampangpangLover: lmao
#1HamhampangpangLover: your fine
Don't correct them don't correct them don't correct them—
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Um
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: No offense but…
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: *you're
You gotta be the stupidest person to exist.
#1HamhampangpangLover: 🤓
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: (T^T)
Eh? #1HamhampangpangLover accepted your follow request..? And they followed me back?
#1HamhampangpangLover: if youre gonna correct my grammar
#1HamhampangpangLover: i think its only fair i pick on you for something
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Fair enough…
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: My bad
#1HamhampangpangLover: yeah
#1HamhampangpangLover: it is your bad for dooming yourself to this
#1HamhampangpangLover: oh well
#1HamhampangpangLover: yknow youre a pretty slow typer
They should try typing with massive, razor sharp claws on the ends of their fingers…
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Is that gonna be what you pick on me for?
#1HamhampangpangLover: yep
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Oh well its only fair
#1HamhampangpangLover: 🕺
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Welp
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Two Hamhampangpang fans on the internet
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Shame the tag is dead
#1HamhampangpangLover: yeah
#1HamhampangpangLover: frustrates me to no end that no one seems to appreciate hamhampangpang
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Exactly!! How can people not appreciate it??
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Most people ive met seem unaware of the glory of Hamhampangpang
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Such fools…
#1HamhampangpangLover: exactly
#1HamhampangpangLover: hey
#1HamhampangpangLover: what should i call you?
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: ?
#1HamhampangpangLover: well
#1HamhampangpangLover: our usernames are almost idential
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Uhhhhh
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Maybe just use the numbers?
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Like
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: You're One, I'm Two.
#1HamhampangpangLover: yeah that works
#1HamhampangpangLover: 👍
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: q(≧▽≦q)
Ha… This guy's pretty chill. Maybe you made an online friend.
You click onto their page, scrolling through their limited number of posts. Every single one was just images of Hamhampangpang with captions along the likes of "my lunch." They didn't have their followers public either… Ah, wait. Pronouns. He/him. Good to know.
Wow… this guy has one of the most basic accounts you've ever seen. Well, he seems chill enough.
#1HamhampangpangLover: by the way
#1HamhampangpangLover: next time you go to hamhampangpang
#1HamhampangpangLover: get their cheesesteak
#1HamhampangpangLover: kid you not
#1HamhampangpangLover: best thing i have ever eaten in my life
#1HamhampangpangLover: think when i took a bite of it i literally ascended
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: Thank you for the recommendation One!!
#1HamhampangpangLover: of course
#1HamhampangpangLover: send me a pick of what you order next time too
#1HamhampangpangLover: im craving hamhampangpang now
#2_Hamhampang_Fan: o(*￣▽￣*)ブ
#1HamhampangpangLover: 🕺
Haa… One doesn't seem like a half bad guy. Maybe this will lead to an actual friendship.
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; swearing; Kromer; VERY SUGGESTIVE (Kromer and Sinclair HEAVILY either debate or think about getting a hit of that dussy (demon bussy)); partial nudity (reproductive parts remain covered); dubcon touching (not particularly explicit just suggestive); Kromer again; implications of Sinclair x Demian but not confirmed just vaguely implied for like 5 seconds; Kromer AGAIN (she needs to be stopped); main character harm (pretty grevious harm too)
Note: I’m like 60% sure no one reads these notes so I’m gonna explain why I gave Rewind time travel powers, as seen in the last post.
It’s because of the fucking Erlking.
I wanted to make him yandere but couldn’t find any genuine excuses for it without it being “love at first sight” (which, no, he is NOT a character who would do that). So I said “FUCK IT, TIME TRAVEL” and now lil ol Rewind will travel back in time and accidentally pull past Heathcliff. We are SO ready.
Anyways now I await no one replying to this <3
Extra Note: Ts is gonna be the longest chapter yet. Also!! Is gonna be unique because I said “FUCK IT LETS TRY SOMETHING NEW!!!” Hope yall like what I did!!
Extra Extra Note: I made Kromer WAY more of a freak that I initially planned too, but I feel like it fits her more. It gets pretty bad so I just wanna say either MDNI or skip the second scene with Kromer. Don't really care which, but just know I don't condone any of the shit she does she's just a true freak. And not a freak like I am for Ahab oh she is so much worse
Probably won't mark this as mature content as when I was 16 I consumed WAYYY worse things because I was stupid but just like... yeahhhh. No regrets making Kromer literal pond scum though I hope she dies again
Your name had quietly flown from my lips when I watched her carry you into that house.
I couldn’t move for a moment there, couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t do anything but helplessly watch you get carried away before…
You were gone.
I just… I couldn’t think straight, all I felt was a blinding, unyielding rage. First she took my family, and now you..?
The scream that tore from my throat hurt, but didn’t even compare too… I- all I could feel was anger, and hate, and Wings I just wanted her dead.
I don’t know if anyone tried to stop me as I charged after her- after you. But I didn’t care. I just needed to get to you, to save you. Anything. Anything for you.
You’re the only one here that’s kind, the only one who understands why I hate her. If I lost you… what would I even do?
When the Inquisitors got in my way, I didn’t care. When I got grabbed by one, I didn’t care. When I cracked their skull in half and watched blood and gray matter fall from their split head and hood, I didn’t care.
“…What the-? The hell have you been dawdling in the back for if you could do that?” Heathcliff asked me, but I didn’t respond as I continued to maim any Inquisitor who tried to stop me. I needed to get to you, I needed to save you-!
You saved me so much, just by sitting there and listening and encouraging me you did so much. I couldn’t let her hurt you.
“I remember with clarity that I had ended your lives. I undoubtedly witnessed torn brain tissue spill through the cracks in your skulls.” The bastard had said, standing before my burning home with weapon drawn, ready to stop me from trying to save you. “And yet, here you heretics are, before me on your feet.”
“You’re not the one to complain about miraculous recoveries…” Gregor dryly muttered. I don’t understand why you seem to like him and his comments, but… you look at me with a sparkle in your eyes he doesn’t get. So… Surely you like me more, right? Maybe even… love me more? Right?
Why do you cling to him and not me not someone like Dante? Is it because you’re both different from normal people? That- that doesn’t matter to me! You’re everything. Everything.
Do you know how pretty you are? Not pretty like how a human is, no, but the way your nose wrinkles when you're amused or annoyed. The way your head tilts as you think. The way your wings curl when you get unnerved and fluff out when you're startled. You're pretty.
Maybe adorable is the right word, though. You seem more adorable than pretty, but both can be true at once, right?
I should get back on topic instead of talking about my thoughts for you.
Guido stared holes into Dante, who seems too caught up with you being kidnapped. I mean- I get it. Your kidnapping devastated all of us, I’m sure. But… It especially hurt me. Because she did it.
When he nods, I wanted to scream because he was in my way from saving you.
I’m not sure why I felt like I needed to do this. Maybe because you felt like you saved me, like you took my hand and dragged me out of a pit of fear that would’ve made it impossible for me to face her again. You saved me and tried to save me again and again. Saving you was the least I could do.
“You there, the one possessing the head of a heretic.” Guido said to Dante, “You must be the false shepherd enticing this herd into blasphemy.”
When he nodded at the nailed corpses, I wanted to slaughter him.
I think I'm doing it again. Sorry. I'll try to focus.
“They committed the grave sin of entering the site of hallowed rites with their unclean bodies. Thus, they have been punished with the same penalty as heretics receive.” He said, “They have also been subjected to the humiliation of bodily mechanical intrusions being installed against their will. But you are different.”
He took a singular step towards everyone, but I could not charge at him. All I could do is try to fight off the hordes of Inquisitors that surrounded me.
“The sin of worshipping a heretic is less severe than indulging in heresy oneself.” He told the Sinners- all of them, including me. “Therefore, as long as you are willing to repent and cleanse your minds of sin… We, the Hammer, are willing to demonstrate forgiveness.”
He spread out his arms, as if offering a blessing. A really evil blessing. “So I implore you, ye pitiable foolish sinners, led astray by temptation. Shake off the allure of that false miracle, and kneel before me.”
I staggered back as the Inquisitors abruptly cease their onslaught, but I couldn’t get through them all. I couldn’t get to you…
Dante was silent, staring at where you once were with a blank sort of look. I may have been wrong, though. They don’t have a face for me to see expressions on. Then, they spook. <Are they alive?>
“If Kromer really wanted [Name] dead… she would’ve just outright killed them.” Ishmael pointed out, “But she took care to bind and take them. She doesn’t want them dead, but… what would she want with them?”
How did Ishmael know that? She didn’t know anything about that bitch. She didn’t know, and still doesn’t. You should be able to understand that- you had to suffer under her, while she didn’t.
“...” I had a few guesses to what she wanted with you. I should’ve known something was off with the way she looked at you that day… Why couldn’t I remember until today? Why couldn’t I warn you? Why couldn’t I stop her?
I failed you. And I kept doing it over and over again.
“So you think throwing some fancy words around will be enough to persuade us, eh…” Heathcliff muttered, glaring at Guido, “Listen up, Faceplate: You’re the one who needs a little shaking off. Seems to me your human brain’s just as defective.”
“……” Guido stood upright, “You were given ample opportunity. You are no different from those we hung and nailed after all.”
He drew his weapon. “I am a Hammer. I am a tool for the One Who Grips, tasked with the great mission of piercing the false flesh of heretics. I shall bind thee to a nail, and lay thee down furthest from soil. For he who shan’t repent…”
“Oi, when are you gonna finish your stupidly long taunt?” Heathcliff shouted, readying his bat. He was angry, but that’s usual for him. I’ve lost track of the times he cracked my skull open for upsetting him.
No one on this bus is like you. You’re the only genuinely kind one. Maybe Dante is too, but it’s not the same. You’re gentle and patient. I’d do anything for you.
Guido dips his head slightly, glaring at us with nothing but malice. “…is not granted rest beneath the earth.”
–★★★–
How is she this strong..?
You squirm helplessly in her arms, unable to move any one of your limbs. Your wings press against her, trying to push yourself away as you try to free your legs or arms. You aren’t successful.
“Aww… look at you~!” Kromer coos in that fake, overly saccharine tone. “Trying so hard to get away… didn’t you miss me?”
You still, to give her the most deadpan look you can muster. “No.”
She cackles, grip on you tightening as she carries you like a baby. Or a rug… depends on how you carry rugs… ah- fuck- why are you like this..?
“There’s no need to lie because you’re mad at me, my [Name]. After all, I’m not the one who killed him. Your friends were, weren’t they?”
It’s like she twisted the knife she stabbed you with.
Your chest heaves, heat from the flames diminishing as she carries you down, and through an empty yet bloodstained tunnel. She’s taking you into the Lobcorp facility linked to Sinclair’s house.
The only things you hear are your heavy breaths and Kromer’s whistle. It’s loud and piercing and frustrating, yet haunting and faint at the same time. You don’t like it. You don’t like this at all.
So what do you plan to do about it?
You… don’t know. You don’t. What can you do? Even if you hurt her, you’re chained and bound and are stuck on what’s as good as her turf.
You’re as good as dead if you try to hurt her. She’ll just laugh, mock you, and do… who knows what.
But looking at her face… her stupid, dumb smirk… God, you hate seeing it. Hate seeing it knowing everything she’s done.
You squint when the space suddenly grows to a massive size, and you realize you have been quite literally carried straight into the facility. It’s being used as a temporary base for the Nagel und Hammer, the space bustling with Inquisitors and torture equipment and poor people being brutalized and killed in the name of “purity”. It makes you want to vomit.
Kromer seems to relish in the awed attention she receives from each Inquisitor when they notice her, but you do all you can to ignore it all. You instead look for someone else, and…
“SAUDE!!”
Kromer flinches at your sudden lunge, one hand snaking into your hair to help hold you back as the woman, laying on the ground in a bloody heap, tries to lift her head to stare at you.
“Oh~ another one of your friends?” Kromer coos, and you wince as she tugs your head up by the hair. “And look at her, on the brink of death.”
“So… do you want to keep her alive?” She asks you, moving her head to rest it on your shoulder. “Because I have many people here who are willing to kill her. But… maybe I’ll let her live. But, only if you promise me something.”
Your breath hitches, and you glare at her from the corner of your eye.
“Well~?”
“...What?”
She doesn’t even try to hide her grin. “Let me do whatever I want to you.”
You give her a disgusted look.
“Nothing sexual, silly.” Kromer teases, “Well, not particularly so. Just one little thing. Nothing more. And that way, I promise she gets to live.”
You don’t want her to do anything to you. But…
You look at Saude breathing weakly on the ground.
…
You swallow a lump in your throat, and give a firm nod.
“Words, [Name], I want to hear you speak.”
You glower at her in response.
“With one order, I can kill her~”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… you can do… anything you want to me. Only if she gets to live.”
“Awh~ Good!” Kromer coos, and you give her a look of disdain. She turns to say something to the Inquisitors, but all you can do is seethe.
Are you doing this because of Effie?
He would want this. You can’t think of any world where Effie would want Saude to die.
Plus… you already failed him. The least you can do is guarantee she lives.
Then you realize Kromer is moving again. And you didn’t even get to…
“SAUDE!!!” You screech, trying to call out to her in desperation, “I’M SORRY- I- FUCK- I’M SORRY!!! PLEASE!! EFFIE IS- I- I COULDN’T- I’M SO, SO SORRY, PLEASE-!”
Kromer slaps a hand over your snout, squeezing it tightly. Your voice dies almost immediately, and all you can do is let out a choked whisper.
“Forgive me…”
–★★★–
The ground shook when Guido fell, but I couldn’t care. All I could do was stab an Inquisitor with the point of my halberd over and over again.
How dare she take you. How dare she.
Blood spurted from their corpse, organs tumbling out of their increasingly mangled body.
Are you even alive? These people… they stopped me from getting to you. How dare they.
Rodion said something to me, but I ignored it. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but…
Wings… if you aren’t okay when I find you, I’ll…
“I’ll… kill… them all…”
I choked out, stabbing them over, and over, and over again. My thoughts were an endless mantra of only you. [Name], I swear I’ll find you. I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. I’m not strong enough to carry you, but I’ll lead you out and let you rest in my room. I’ll take care of Orbi as you recover and will do anything you need me to. All I want is just your safety and a single smile.
I’ll make sure you’ll be okay. I’ll-
I gasped when I was knocked to the ground, halberd falling from my hands and clattered to the ground. I lifted my head, caught a glimpse of blonde hair, before stars filled my vision as Don Quixote beat me senseless.
It really, really hurt, but I was too dazed to fight back and get her off of me. I thought I heard my nose crack as her onslaught continued. If anyone else said anything, I couldn’t hear it. The only sounds that filled my ears are the ones of me being beaten halfway to a bloody pulp.
When she abruptly stoped, the tears and swelling in my eyes made it hard to see her jovial face leer down at me. “Pray tell, how dost thou feel now?”
I just let out a noise of pain, hoping Dante is willing to fix this mess before I go to save you. They were, thankfully, but I didn’t know it at the time.
“Pardon my rash action. Oft I would find myself overcome by fervor, rampaging much the same as a riderless horse.” Don Quixote told me chipperly, helping me to my feet, “At such moments, mine old friends helped me to come to myself- by beating me senseless. ‘Twas, at times, the only remedy to the fever that had overtaken me.”
“Aha, so in that sense, Vergilius must be a good friend of yours too, right?” Ishmael sarcastically asked, earning a snicker from Rodion and a blush from Don Quixote.
“Well- I…!”
“Hic… Huhk…” I felt tears run down my bruised cheeks, and rubbed my injured face with a hand as all I think about is you and that night and how that bitch ruined it all. “I’ll get her for this…”
I feel myself shake again, feeling so pathetic and weak and- “I’ll go to my home… and skewer that bitch… I’ll skewer her with a stake…! And then-”
My voice collapsed into pained sobs, and I felt small and helpless. I won’t let her hurt you. I’ll find you, and- and…
Thinking about it, it's almost weird how quickly you consumed my thoughts. I met you years ago, sure, but only really knew you for roughly a week.
I think it might be because you care about me. And I’d like you to continue caring.
But I still hate her. First she took my family. Then she took my home. Then she took you. But at least I had a chance to save one of these things.
Sometimes I wonder, if I had a chance to save you or my family, which one I would pick. I don’t even really know. It’s not something I like to think about.
Do you have things you don’t like to think about? You seem nervous so often, but you continue on in silence and stand strong. I wish I could be like you. You don’t freeze up like I do. You take action.
Even if sometimes those actions fail.
“I… lost everything overnight…” I choked out between sniffles, “Back then… they didn’t parade their ‘Nagel und Hammer’ name around. You didn’t see large groups like that in the open. But, at some point…”
“People calling themselves ‘Hammers’ started showing up in town, one by one, and…” I broke into sobs once more, “Eagh, hic…”
“It’s okay, kiddo. No need to push yourself…” Rodion tells me, patting me on the back.
“No!” I cry out, “No- I need to- need-”
But I just devolved into sobs again. She gently pats me on the back, but it fixes nothing.
“I still think that sometimes…” I let out a hiccup, “This is all just a bad dream and I’m having trouble waking up…”
“It always comes… Every morning, before I open my eyes…” My voice cracks, “Maybe this time… I’ll wake up and see my familiar ceiling… Just maybe.”
And I just broke down again. Pathetic as always.
—
I don’t really know how I managed to gather or compose myself. After the tears stopped, I just… felt almost numb. The rage that flew through me dying down enough that I almost appeared composed.
But my hands still shook. Especially when I desperately gathered up the Ampules you dropped. What if you’re hurt when I find you? She has no qualms about killing and maiming… What if she does it to you?
I need- need- need…
I need you.
I have a confession I need to make.
I’ve snuck into Dante’s room to watch you sleep before. Well, into may be an overstatement. I just crack the door and can see you. I don’t know why you sleep in that chair. Is it really comfortable? Or is it because you don’t want the bed. Or Dante won’t let you have the bed-
No, no. I see Dante around you. They would let you have the bed.
So why don’t you take the offer? I don’t really understand it, but… you do look peaceful when you sleep. Your wings wrap around your body and you hold your tail close.
Sometimes I want to open the door and go all the way in. Go to your sleeping body and watch closely. See the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, each twitch as you dream, and maybe even crawl into your arms.
But that’s not the worst thing I want to do to you. I…
I don’t know how to put it into words but it isn’t good. But I shouldn’t talk about that right now. You’re probably disgusted enough by my confession, not that I’ll ever let you learn about it, but…
Anyways.
I wasn’t the only one who grabbed something of your’s. Your swords- Abnormality swords?- were left still stabbed into the earth. On closer inspection, they were dug so far into the ground they couldn’t pull themselves out. Probably was why they didn’t turn her into mincemeat the moment she touched you.
But Dante pulled them out, and they floated behind them and made little movement. I’d almost say they looked dismayed with your absence, but…
It was my intuition that led us down to the Lobotomy Corporation Branch. That, or the pull of the Golden Bough. Maybe it was your pull, though. No. No, I’m being delusional.
Faust as good as confirmed it anyways, with her silence and all that.
Do you like Faust? You seem rather uncomfortable around her… Is it because of the many things she won’t tell us? She also seems pretty skeptical of you, but I can’t understand why. You’re almost like an open book, even going as far to tell us about that woman you loved.
Well, you still love her, I guess.
Is it wrong I hope you stop? Because she may not even love you back. You’re plenty loveable, yes, but… what if she doesn’t?
I don’t understand love. I don’t think I've ever been in love before. Is it a warm, fuzzy feeling like some people described it to me as? Well, “people” being my parents. I get that feeling around you, but that can’t be love, right?
I gotten it for Demian once, but I don’t love him. He kind of intimidates me, to be honest. And when I first met Kromer, I got it for her, but that feeling has been gone for years.
I can’t love you… right?
—
I don’t want to think about the tortured people I saw in the Lobotomy Corporation branch. I understand what you told me and that I should reflect on it, but I don’t want to write out what I remember the people- people I once knew- said while they were being tortured by the hands of N Corp Inquisitors. I’m sorry.
Miss Rodion took charge, though. She was the first one to move and initiate the fight in this first part.
Then we saw Miss Saude. This is what I remember from the conversation, because this is one of the most blurry parts with how unfocused I was:
“Well I’ll be… You’ve all… gotten better at fighting, haven’t you…?” Miss Saude had weakly croaked out, and we saw her, injured but alive, resting against the wall. Covered in bites and wounds, she tried to push herself up in vain.
“Are you alright? Can you get up easily?” Ishmael had asked, and Saude weakly shook her head.
Then she asked about him.
“Effie… How is he…?” Her voice was desperate, and I didn’t know how to tell her it was our fault he died, with how you… well, you already know. “Alive, yeah? You… must’ve met outside…”
I still regret not speaking up on your behalf. But I must confess, my main worry was that you wouldn’t forgive me. I wasn’t as upset at Effie’s death as I thought I would be. I know it’s wrong, but I think a small part of me is relieved he’s dead.
But Hong Lu had spoken up. “Yes, he’s doing fine now.”
No one else, not me or anyone, said anything more regarding him.
“That’s enough chatter.” Outis said when she changed the topic, “It seems more of those oddities are crawling our way."
Then we were attacked by a horde of Peccatula. It was a relatively tough fight, but nothing much crazier than what we faced before. I mean, sure, some of us died, but that was normal in fights. No, the most important thing came after.
Because then we heard a nail being dragged across the ground. During that time, I almost heard you letting out an audible groan. That would be something you did, right?
But Outis said something about “checking if foes are dead,” as Guido approached us.
“Ye Heretics… must be exterminated.” Guido had told us, approaching with a slow yet steady gait.
“How long have you been…” Dante slowly started to ask, but Guido just kept talking during that time.
“And… the rest… shall be purified.”
I saw Dante start to panic. They were already fidgety since you were kidnapped, but now all the Sinners were dead or injured due to the fight. I was barely standing myself during that time, but just seethed in anger. I knew Dante was about to rewind, as usual, but then Saude spoke.
“Please stop…” She had said, lifting a gun to point at them. “I need you… to keep still… The moment you try to turn that clock, my gun… will blow off your head…”
I couldn’t say anything. I wanted to move to stop her, but I was too worried she would kill Dante. And without Dante to heal or revive me, I had no chance of rescuing you.
Looking back, it would seem like I didn’t care about Dante. But I do! It’s just, in that moment, you were in more danger. I’ve seen first-hand what Kromer can do. You were the priority, simple as that.
Dante croaked out Saude’s name, sounding almost betrayed. I wonder, in that moment, did they wear the same expression you did when Effie died?
“Don’t look at me… like that… I can’t hear you. But, I can tell you this.” She told us, “They promised… to let Effie go… if I helped to get rid of you…”
At that moment, I wished I told her a version of what happened. You would’ve. You would’ve told her the truth and avoided this mess. You would’ve ensured Guido was dead and gave Saude some of those ampules to heal.
“I let too much time pass.” Guido grabbed Dante by the neck, lifting them above the ground with a hand, the other moving to grasp their head and crush it slowly. Your weapons didn’t even move to defend them, just continuing to idly hover. Their loyalty clearly only was for you, and no one else.
But your weapons weren’t my main focus. In that moment, Dante was. I heard their noises of agony, and panicked.
So I moved. Forced myself to rush forward, grabbing Guido’s discarded nail, and impaled it into his back. I drove it though his spine and out his abdomen.
He let out a hiss of pain, and I stood there heaving. That movement really, really hurt. But I knew I would ultimately be okay. As long as Dante is alive, I will always be okay.
Guido staggered, dropping Dante, but didn’t collapse. He stayed standing, slowly turning to face me. “…I see. You, too, are a filthy heretic…”
“You’re… all insane… out of your minds…” I told him, almost falling over.
“The One Who Grips had once said…” Guido told me, and I seethed, “That you could have become the One as well.”
“Fuck her.” I remember spitting out, “And fuck everything… she stands for…”
I think if you were there, I wouldn’t say that. But I do a lot of things because of you. And I clearly think about you a lot. Do you think about me a lot?
“What a shame…” Guido told me, readying himself to kill me. “You grip with the wrong direction.”
<Sinclair… run away… I can’t… help you…> Dante told me, raising a hand to desperately urge me to go.
But I didn’t.
“No… I’m not running anymore.” I said, “I’m not running… from the person in my way..!”
“…I like that answer, Sinclair.” Saude told me, and fired the gun a dozen times at least.
Square at Guido’s head.
He was silent, the bullets digging through the bloody metal helmet he wore, and was silent for a moment, before weakly speaking. “You, who bring ruination upon yourselves… The Hammer shall continue to pursue you…”
Then he collapsed with a thud. And, shortly after, so did Saude’s gun.
<…Saude.> Dante said softly, turning to face her.
“Effie, he’s… he’s dead, isn’t he?” Our silence made her smile, almost mockingly and miserably. “[Name]... they spoke about him when they were dragged through here. And… You’re all terrible liars. At least try to make it somewhat believable.”
<[Name]’s alive?> Dante asked, perking up slightly. Saude gave them a weak look, and I translated their words.
“Haa… yep. Kicking and screaming too.” She said, “Never seen them so… terrified.”
Everyone still alive tensed at that.
“…C’mon Saude, let’s get out of here. You’ll be okay… Just gotta stop the bleeding, and… get you patched up.” Gregor said, approaching her with relative uncertainty.
“Right. I’ll get a tourniquet…” Ishmael murmured, but all Saude did was let out a bitter laugh.
“Don’t be stupid. I can hardly lift a finger.” She told those still alive, “Besides, those Inquisitors will keep on coming, won’t they? You guys need to keep moving down. I’ll hold them off here. You should go.”
“You can’t- You can’t do that…” I choked out. I already didn’t want Saude to die, but I know that if you both lost Effie and Saude in one day, well… you’d be even deeper into a pit of misery you just dragged yourself out of after Yuri’s death.
“You said yourself that you can hardly lift a finger. I can’t let you watch our backs when you’re in such a mess… Please?” Ishmael said, sounding weaker than usual. I wonder if she had the same thought process I did.
“You know… in moments like this… you’re supposed to just nod at me and be on your way.” Saude murmured, “Why do you care so much about the one who volunteered to stay behind?”
Gregor stilled, before speaking in a faint voice I could barely hear. “[Name] would.”
Saude falls silent at that, before letting out a chuckle. “I can almost hear their pleading now… They already begged for my life before. I think they’d hate me forever if I died now, yeah..?”
Then I approached her, hands shaking, and I pulled out the ampules you dropped and dumped them into her hands.
“Live.” I told her as my voice cracked. “...Please.”
She took them, giving me a slight smile. “Just… make sure they get out alright, will you?”
I nodded, but I felt tears welling in my eyes.
“Aw… You’re making this pretty awkward, you know that? Here I thought I could have a cool farewell.” Saude murmured, grinning faintly, “Faust, please take these absolute dorks out of here. I don’t think I’m going to be meeting up with you for a bit…”
“I’ll make sure to give Vergilius your regards.” Faust told her simply.
“No need.” Saude said, “Just… tell them I’m okay, will you?”
“……” Faust nodded only once. “Of course.”
Dante revived the dead and healed those who remained alive, and then we continued on, leaving Saude with her fate hanging in the air, but pointing in a path I hoped you would be glad for.
–★★★–
You were left collapsed on a hill of the dead. By Kromer’s command, all Inquisitors were sent out of the room where she resonated with the Bough. Blood from their bodies stained your clothes, and Kromer was at work forcing you to fulfill your end of the bargain for Saude’s life.
Hands tangled in the feathers of your wings, slowly stretching one out as she almost salivated at the sight of the cool gray feathers. Her nails dragged along them, and this was only one of the many ways she examined every bit of your body.
She’s sitting atop your stomach, straddling your partially exposed body with a look of pleasure adorned her face.
“Oh, how long I waited for this day~!” She cooed to herself, peeling your opened shirt back further. She didn’t touch much else beside the mouth that trailed along your collarbone, and you stared at her in silent hatred.
Carmen hasn’t said a word since you arrived in this room. Perhaps she’s left you here alone to suffer at the hands of this maniac.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She tells you, “Maybe, if you behave enough, I’ll let you out of these binds~”
You don’t believe a word she says as you indignantly turn your head away. Kromer lets out a chuckle, as she roughly grabs your snout with her hand, turning your head to face hers as she leans close.
“If you continue to act like this, you will regret it.” She tells you, voice both mirthful and dangerous, “After all, you agreed to this, didn’t you?”
Since she started to examine you, she shed much of her armor and outfit. Not enough to necessarily flash you, yet enough for you to see much of her body. That, at the very least, is something to be slightly relieved over. If you get free, she’ll be easier to fight off while vulnerable.
“Well?” She asks, grip tightening. You choke out a vague noise of agreement, which seems to satisfy her momentarily as she releases her hold on your face and moves it to the wings on the side of your head.
“Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you?” She asks, “Day and night… yet went so long without a sign I swore I almost forgot you!”
She laughs as you let out a squawk of pain as she tugs at the wings on your head. “But I didn’t, now did I? And here you are, exactly where I want you. Right in my grip. Where you belong.”
You don’t like how she’s talking.
“Oh, look at you~” She muses, a finger slowly rubbing circles against your temple. “The way your face scrunches up and you squirm under me… If you only asked, I could make you squirm so much more~ And make you feel wonderful things~ Wouldn’t you like that?”
Her rightmost hand dips, trailing along your cheek and to your collar, pausing on your shoulder. She smiles at you expectantly.
“I would rather die…” You mutter to her, and she laughs.
“Well then, take your time. I’m far more patient than you think, [Name].” Kromer almost sneers at you, “It’s inevitable some day I shall enjoy this perfect body of yours in every way I please.”
This… she… fuck her. And not in the way she wants. Never in the way she wants.
“Why take me..?” You croak out, “Why not… him?”
“Oh? Sinclair?” She asks, sitting up from where she sits atop your abdomen with a mocking grin. “My [Name]... how can you be so oblivious? Can’t you see how he stares at you? Desperate for an ounce of your affection for any moment you can spare him a drop? How angry he was the moment I got close to you… anywhere you’re taken, he’ll follow.”
“And, if your friends were here…” She says, voice oozing with an unnerving venom, “Then I couldn’t have this little moment with you~”
“Do you know how desperately I wanted a single day with only you? Sinclair too, perhaps, but you. Not with Demian, or that heretic you follow around, or any distractions in your way…” She asks, warm breath drifting across your scarlet skin. “But you and me.”
“You can’t understand how long I’ve waited to embrace you.” She says, moving to lay down atop your body and rest her chin atop your chest. Compared to the corpses beneath you and hazy air, she’s warm. “And I don’t mind how desperately you try to resist me. I am now the hand that feeds you…”
A hand snakes up to grab one of your horns and drag your head towards hers. “So don’t bite at it~”
“And if I do?” You ask through gritted teeth.
She hums. Her hand lets go of your horn, drifting down to the mouth on your shoulder slowly. A finger ghosts the lips, coaxing the mouth open and tongue out. She guides it to her cheek, forcing the green muscle to her skin. Then her grin widens, and her eyes vaguely reflect the light of the Bough.
“Then I’ll bite you. Just as I did before.”
–★★★–
Something that haunted me is what I saw what Kromer was willing to do to the Inquisitors.
I knew she was depraved, and heartless and evil and-
I should just get to the point.
“You hear beasts crawling around somewhere?” Heathcliff had asked all of a sudden when we were almost to the Bough. I knew it, I felt it, and I had hoped that is where you would be.
But he spoke up for a valid reason. There was the sound of something animalistic making choked sounds as something both metallic and wet dragged across the floor.
Then we saw it.
I’m not adept enough to truly describe what it looked like. It was an Inquisitor, but… wrong. Warped and rendered a beast-like shell of what once was a person. An evil person, yes, one who willingly did horrible things. But…
As they made choked noises of pain, I almost pitied them.
“Are those Abnormalities?” Gregor wondered aloud, but Ishmael shook her head.
“Take a closer look- They aren’t Abnormalities. See that emblem…”
And everyone else came to the same realization I had.
“E.G.O Corrosion has wrested them.” Faust explained, looking unphased as ever.
“You mean that nauseating state…?” Gregor started to wonder aloud, looking unsettled.
“I think it happened to me in battle once when I was on the verge of a breakdown… It was like I was being devoured.” Ishmael confessed.
I’m lucky I never had to deal with that yet.
“Although it’s not quite like consumption in the conventional sense… I do suppose that it is a serviceable analogy, seeing as it eats away at your essence.” Faust had acknowledged with a nod, “…And in observation, unlike the last floor, this place does not seem to be exclusively for torturing prosthesis users. It would be fair to say that its purpose is to induce Corrosion unto oneself.”
Looking ahead, we saw more corroded Inquisitors, and I wanted to vomit. Dante merely sighed, and all I did was worry about you.
<...Sinclair.> They said, looking square at me.
“Yes..?” I quietly asked, looking back at them.
<I have something that could help us…> They trailed off, <It’s an ID. I’ve been a little hesitant to put it on you since I saw what happened when I uptied it, but…>
“Is it… strong?” I questioned.
<Yes. It seems to be.> They said with a slight nod, <But I think you might have some issues with it… because it’s you as an Inquisitor.>
That gave me pause. You hated N Corp as much as I did, Kromer as much as I did-! How would you look at me if I came to save you wearing an ID of the faction you despised?
But I needed strength. And I knew any ID of mine would fight for Dante, even against her.
So I said yes.
–★★★–
Kromer had left you alone. Even was “kind” enough to redo your binds so your hands were tied in front of your body instead of behind. Your clothes were also redone to be neat, but she did speak about plans to put you in an outfit similar to hers soon enough.
Did she really think you’d just agree to join N Corp after everything she did? Psychotic…
You were sitting up, golden light reflecting off the blood red corpses beneath you as you waited for when the Sinners would inevitably come.
Even if they didn’t care enough to save you, the Golden Bough is here. They’ll be here soon enough.
You lifted your arms slightly, staring at the bite wound still on your hand. It made you grit your teeth and want to scream and thrash, but you were honestly exhausted. All you did for a long time was scream and thrash, and you earnestly just wanted to go back to the bus and sleep.
But you can’t.
The sound of metal moving made your head snapped up, horrified Kromer was approaching you as she was preparing for Sinclair’s arrival. She wouldn’t make a show of you to him, would she? Well, of course she would, but-!
But it wasn’t Kromer who stood before you.
It was Guido.
“No… no..!” You choked out, trying to move back- away- anything. “No no NO-! You are the second to last person I want to see-! FUCK OFF!”
Your ranting turned belligerent, spewing rage-filled words at the ghost of the man who stood before you. He said nothing until your words died down, and turned to muffled begging for him to leave.
“Go away- just- leave. Leave me alone.” You pleaded, curling in on yourself, “Just- get away from me… please.”
“...” Guido is silent, and you can’t bring yourself to stare at his impaled body that stands, almost alive, before your bound body. “You deny the honor of being wielded by the One Who Grips, even as she fawns for you. Why is that so?”
“...” You just slowly raised your head to stare at him. “Why do you die for the sake of a heartless monster? Why do you kill people just because you deem them as 'heretics'? Why do you stand before me now, as if you have any right to speak to me?”
“I hate you and everything you and her stand for. If there was a list of everyone I wished to never see, your name would be second on that list.” You spit at him, “I hope your death hurt. Now… LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”
Your voice broke into crumbling sobs as you collapsed down onto the gory mountain you were trapped upon, tears burning your cheeks as you wanted to melt into nothingness so all this suffering may end.
You wish she just killed you.
“Am I on the list?” A familiar voice asked, causing your sobs to abruptly cease as you scrambled to sit up. “Or do you want to see me?”
“Ef…fie..?” Your voice was wobbly, green tears blurring the edges of your vision as the ghost of the man stood over you with a faint grin. Seeing the hole through his torso where a nail once impaled him made you queasy, but it was undeniably him. “Effie…”
“Yep. That’s me.” He says, smiling slowly softening at your- admittedly pitiful- appearance.
“Effie…” Your voice cracked as you sobbed out his name, blazing tears streaming down your cheeks as you weakly tried to reach out. “I’m so- so- sorry-! I’m so sorry..!”
You sound like a broken record as you choke out apologies to the dead man, who crouches down to your level while holding his hands up.
“Hey, hey-! You didn’t- you didn’t kill me, you dork.” He tells you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, “You… gah- Why did it have to be me? I can’t comfort people…”
He shakes his head, arms wrapping around your shaking body as he hugs you gently. “It’s alright. Really, it is. You did all you could, it isn’t your fault.”
Yes it is. You could’ve done more. But you didn’t. You failed him. You failed him. You-
“He’s right. You didn’t fail anyone.” Yuri tells you, causing Effie to pull back and stare in confusion at the pink haired woman, as she crouches down and sits by your left with a tender smile. “If anything, you did more than anyone else did.”
“Who..?” Effie starts to ask, before nodding slightly when you almost collapse into Yuri, spewing out choked, muffled wails. “Oh. You and her..? Okay, I get it…”
He moves to your right, and you’re sandwiched between the two. Two people you failed who are claiming you didn’t. Why do they comfort someone like you?
“I’m Yuri.” She says as a polite introduction, giving Effie a simple smile.
“Effie.” He says in response with a nod, and the two look at your quaking, hunched form. “...[Name], it’s not your fault I’m dead. If anything, it’s because of you I’m still here.”
But he never should’ve died. What you did… you should’ve been able to save him. So why couldn’t you?
Their words almost seem like meaningless chatter, ungenuine attempts of comfort. But their faces, their warm smiles… those are genuine, so why don’t their words feel the same?
What are you even doing? Why do you even try..?
Another meaningless drabble fills your ears, but sounds almost like the buzzing of a radio. To you, it’s incomprehensible. And yet…
…
It feels almost like someone trying to offer advice. But you don’t welcome it. Why would you?
“Who are you talking to?”
Kromer’s voice, sickeningly saccharine and threatening all at one, cuts through any chatter like a razor. Your head snaps up so swiftly you nearly hear a crack, and both ghosts beside you look tense. Especially Effie.
“You were yelling at someone to leave.” Kromer elaborates upon your silence, creeping closer over the bloody ground with each step making a faint squish. “Who dared?”
“...Wouldn’t you like to know.” You almost hissed at her, earning a slight smirk.
“Oh, [Name]... my dear, beautiful, stupid [Name]...” You wince as her hands grab your face with a grip like iron, leaning in close. Her nose brushes against your snout, and she looks like she is going to kill you. You’re going to die. “I did not give permission for anyone to approach you. So who dared defy my…”
She trails off, voice dying on her tongue as she pulls back, staring blankly at Effie. Her hands release you, and she tenses. Her hands slowly creep towards and touch your face again, and a sick, twisted smile starts to bloom.
“...You can see the dead.” There is no uncertainty in her voice. Just a corrupt amusement. “You see the dead..!”
She lets out a roaring laugh, almost collapsing into your chest as she squeezes your face so tightly you fear your eyes will pop out of your skull.
Then she falls silent, resting her head against your chest.
“...Who did you see?” Her tone is sharp. And, startled, you stutter out an answer.
“G- Guido.” You sputter out, “He’s… dead.”
She stills, before starting to giggle again. Her laughter spirals into a bellowing thing, and she reels back. “Really now? HA! Oh… Sinclair… my Sinclair…”
“He’s going to kill you.” You snap at her, “And I can’t wait to see him do it. I can’t wait to help him do it.”
“You? Him? Kill me?” She wheezes, eyes sparkling as if you said the silliest thing to her. “Look at you… acting as if you have any power here…”
She sits up, shoving you down to the ground as both ghosts flinch back, Effie looking defensive and Yuri looking horrified. Both start talking at the same time, both trying to order her away from you, but Kromer merely smiles.
“You’re in my hand, [Name]. And so is he. You always will be.”
–★★★–
The mountain of corpses reached the sky. Blood red with bodies I almost felt like I recognized, yet were so misshapen I couldn’t.
And before it, dozens of Inquisitors stood with arms raised to her. Standing on the peak, arms raised to the Bough, was Kromer.
I must confess, I was even more terrified to see you absent from her side. I expected to see her making a show of you, some sort of mockery, and yet… nothing. Not even a glimpse of you.
But you would’ve blended into the red of the corpses. I was afraid that you…
Well, that you were dead and a part of that mountain.
Of course, Kromer wouldn’t. If she had killed you, she would’ve undoubtedly made a show of this. Something to haunt me specifically. So you were alive. And that honestly relieved me.
“The fathoms of the ego are already open. I see someone has resonated with the Bough before us.” Faust had said, stating the obvious.
“The hell are they up to? What’re they raising their hands for?” Gregor asked, startled.
Faust had taken a deep breath, looking solemn. “…Prayer.”
“…What is this sound?” Ishmael asked at a painfully familiar sound ringing in the background. I knew what it was, but I couldn’t talk.
“This feels awfully familiar… Somehow annoyingly tingly… and unpleasant…” Heathcliff had remarked.
“…It’s a school bell.” Gregor said, before giving me a grin. “Our boy hated school that much, eh.”
The other Sinners had looked more cheerful after that, but I…
I was doing even worse. I wasn’t ready to confront my past. Not entirely.
I couldn’t even utter a word as Kromer started speaking again.
“Alright, everyone! Listen up!”
“The One Who Grips so declares.” Rippled through the brainwashed idiots who followed her every order. I wanted to scream.
“Not only are those heretics disturbing our sacred rite, they are now after the offering that is rightfully ours to consecrate!”
“Disgraceful and defiled are they.”
“Go forth and die! Do not fear your end!” Her voice was raising in octaves, and I wanted nothing more than to strike her down. “As long as the offering of gold is with us, you shall be brought back to life again and again!”
“We shall fear not, for the One Who Grips is with us.”
“And even if not…” She said, before tugging on something and dragging you into view. “In their eyes you shall remain!”
Her followers cheered and I watched helplessly as you collapsed before her, looking weak. You were bound in chains, yet you still raised your head to stare down at us. I couldn’t see your expression, but…
“And… Sinclair. Hurry over. You belong in my hands.” I saw your mouth snap open when she grabbed you by the horns and tugged you upwards. “Just as they do!”
“No greater joy exists than to be wielded by the One Who Grips.”
I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t hear the outraged mutters from some of the Sinners, I couldn’t hear your noises of pain, I couldn’t…
All I heard was her voice, staring at her grinning face and your squirming form, horns still in her grip as you struggled to either stand or escape.
“Sinclair.” She called down to me, “Did you bring the coin?”
Then I watched you lunge at her face, mouth wide open and razor sharp teeth in view.
—
…The breaks between classes are always lively since everyone gathers around to talk.
The adults would often watch us from afar and take this as a heartwarming sight.
But there’s something they don’t realize.
And… that is?
[Name]? [Name], how do I-?
Don’t… ask. I don’t know myself. Just… continue.
Continue?
Reflecting.
Please. I find reflecting on things helps me learn how to comprehend what happened to me. Maybe it’ll do the same for you.
…
Okay.
When you take a closer look, these merry interactions are brimming with envy, vainglory, pride, and guile.
Children are crafty creatures.
“I heard Rahul from the next class over’s getting surgery on both arms by his father. Gonna be with some new tech that’s never been shown before. How cool is that?” One of my classmates had said with an eager grin.
“You know this actor on all the magazine covers? Did I ever mention they’re getting an eye transplant at my mom’s clinic? The waitlist was so long, they personally begged to be moved up.” Another classmate had mused and I grew more anxious with each boastful story my classmates told.
What can I share? Their expecting eyes pointed at me felt like they could turn into scoffing leers at any moment.
“T- This is a secret, but…” I swallowed nervously. Maybe they weren’t asking me for a story after all. But I had to keep their curious eyes on me. I knew for sure that I’d become an outcast the moment they looked away. “My dad… signed a contract with P Corp. They saw the technology he was working on and agreed to give their full support.”
My goodness, just what was I thinking when I spilled that?
Out of the fear that I’d be isolated from my peers, I carelessly spelled my own ruin.
Maybe I was compelled by some childish urge, or an inherent desire to be recognized by the other students.
“Now Emil, this is a confidential agreement for our business. You mustn’t tell another soul.” His insistent reminder echoed in my head—I could see his face.
Emil?
My first name…
You go by your last name? Why?
It’s… a long story.
Ah, okay.
But, you can call me Emil. If you want.
I… I’ll think about it.
You don’t have too, of course-! I just thought that you’d like to call me…
…
…[Name]?
I’m still here. Just thinking.
Please, continue.
“Whoa… Is that for real, Sinclair?”
“P Corp? Like that Wing?! Wow… I’m jealous.”
I became the center of conversation in a split second. I can feel the stimulated eyes of the other kids in class drawn to me. Superiority was pretty damn sweet.
I guess I was driven by a depraved craving for attention.
Do you still have that?
I don’t think I do, but…
…
“Oh right, Sinclair! Your procedure’s soon, isn’t it? Y’know, the prosthetics.”
“Y- Yeah, of course. They told me I’ll get the… newest model.”
If they paid just a bit of attention to my face… They’d have noticed the reluctance in my expression.
Fortunately, no one ever pointed it out.
…
A massive wave of guilt eventually washed over me after our break was over and I was finally left alone. I was supposed to keep that a secret… What if Father finds out?
Ah…
Blood was leaking from my fingertip.
The bad habit of biting my nails whenever I felt anxious ended up hurting me.
I tried clipping them as short as I could to work on breaking it… But I never considered that I might bite into my skin instead.
…
Watching blood droplets fall on the desk, I thought of something.
Once I graduate, I’ll get a prosthetic replacement…
And then I’ll never get hurt or see my blood ever again.
But… Is that really…
But that didn’t happen.
Yeah. It didn’t.
…
“You’re… bleeding.”
Someone casts a shadow over my desk with a whimsical whistle. She was a classmate I rarely talked to, so I could barely remember her name. But you know who she is.
Flustered, I stuttered out my response awkwardly. “Wuh… What… was that?”
“Listen, what you said earlier… Is it legit?”
“Um, y- yeah… It’s legit.”
“I see. Your father must be a real big deal, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, uhm… I guess.”
Her unexpected flattery has me embarrassed. As if my father’s greatness were somehow my own.
“Though… Why did you make that face?”
“H- Huh?”
“You know… You were thinking it to yourself.” Then she lowers her head and whispers for only me to hear. “That it’s filthy.”
..!
My eyes widened. Not just because I was surprised by how she knew what I was thinking…
But the fact that a total stranger like her had been able to figure out exactly what I’d been hiding.
“H- How did you know?”
I could’ve gotten away with it if I’d just denied her accusations, but tactlessly, I asked her that with a dumbfounded look on my face.
“Pffh… Because… I agree with you on that.”
“You… You agree?”
“You can see a lot from those who are on the same wavelength as you.” She had told me as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kromer.”
Ever since then… Kromer and I became friends who’d talk often.
…
You’re being quiet.
I don’t have much to say.
Why not..?
…
Sinclair, what do you think about me?
About you?
Yes. About me.
I think…
You’re kind. Honest. Patient- you’re so unbelievably patient. And…
You care.
…
I’m sorry about Effie.
It wasn’t your fault.
I could’ve-
You couldn’t have done anything. That’s just a fact.
I…
Continue. Just… please.
…Okay.
As a household rule, my family used to have breakfast at the same table every morning.
It was a pleasant time when our whole family would share stories and encouraging words.
I liked those mornings, that rule was ever so kind and gentle to my heart.
A natural and unchanging world that belonged to me. My world.
That world began to feel alienating one day…
…
The day when my sister sat at that table after her prosthetic transformation was complete.
My world had begun to change when my father’s head was replaced with an unfamiliar contraption of steel, circuits, and wires.
Our family breakfast no longer provided warmth and connection. It became an occasion of detachment where I talked less and less.
Ah… I had started to feel an inherent abhorrence for prostheses.
‘That’s filthy…’
My heart couldn’t accept the idea of replacing one’s flesh and bones with something else, let alone the need for it.
Why do we use prosthetic bodies?
I carefully asked for an explanation, and the reply was simple: The human body, in its unmodified state, is too ‘old-fashioned’. It needs to be sustained with food, revitalized with sleep lest it should fail from fatigue, and injuries take a long time to heal. All this makes the human body incredibly inefficient.
…
He concluded that prostheses will grow more commonplace as time goes on, and ultimately become a regular part of our daily lives.
I thought to myself: ‘Why don’t I just fall behind the times then if that’s what the mainstream will be?’
…Though that wasn’t an argument rooted in logic.
Was that the only reason you hated prosthetics?
…
…
Continue.
“Yo, Sinclair… You don’t actually wanna take the replacement procedure, do you?” Kromer had asked me one day in class.
I nodded without a word.
“But your parents sure wouldn’t like it if you confessed that.” She said, “Isn’t it frustrating that there’s nothing you can do about it?”
I nodded again.
"What if I helped you out? You could live a free life with no worries about any of that junk.”
"B- But, how?"
"That, you’ll find out next time. In exchange…" She had leaned over my desk with a sly grin. "In return for helping you with your problem, you’ll help me deal with a grudge of my own too."
…
…
Is this helping you at all?
What do you mean?
Is thinking about your past helping you at all? In any way, shape, or form?
A little…
…
Sinclair, I want to offer you some advice.
After we return to the bus, grab a piece of paper, maybe two, and write. Write about your feelings and thoughts when what happened to you took place. Just write out everything you remember, as detailed as you can. Go on random rants that seem unconnected, but just write.
I've been told it helps people process things.
Have you ever..?
No. I never tried it myself. In all honesty, I forgot about when she told me that.
…
But just try. It might help you move on.
…
Do you love her?
Hm?
Do you love that woman you mentioned? Back on the bus.
Of course I do.
…
I'll continue.
Sinclair?
I'll be done talking soon.
…Okay.
…
One day, a new transfer student named Demian was placed in the class next to mine.
He was surrounded by a crowd every time I saw him. But I got the sensation that he didn’t feel attached to anyone around him.
To me, he seemed as if he were almost floating in the air; he was aloof like that. Likewise, he didn’t seem too interested in me, either. That’s how it was at first, at least.
It happened during a boring engineering class. My eyes kept drifting away from the board, and before I knew it, they were looking out the window instead.
Through that window, I saw him taking a walk. Like usual, he was surrounded by his fellow students, wearing a faint smile.
Even his expression felt different from the kind someone his age should make; that smile carried a mature yet solitary aura. Basking in the sunlight, he stroked his hair.
"Huh?"
I thought I caught a glimpse of some weird red thing on his forehead. Was I mistaken? Maybe it was the blinding sunlight reflecting off his skin. And then…
I had the feeling I made eye contact with him.
"……"
Some students were still chatting outside.
As soon as I felt his gaze, I quickly averted my eyes and looked down at my desk. Ever since that strange incident, Demian started to talk to me in a friendly manner.
Oddly enough, on the days when Demian approached me, Kromer didn’t come to greet me. Except for… well, you already know that day. Nevertheless, whenever she had a chance to, she’d come and make sure that I remembered our promise.
"I often have this dream, Sinclair." Demian had told me once, "In it, I climb an endlessly long ladder. Then everything down below comes into view. The Nest, the Backstreets, the Outskirts, all of it. And when I look beneath my feet, all the lights are out in the City, as if the end of all things had come."
"Fallen into silent death, empty of any motion. Indeed, it’s the state of death itself."
"Demian, have you been to the Outskirts?" I whispered to him, frightened. He was talking about a forbidden place where no one could or should go.
"Sinclair, the world as people want to define it can’t be divided into places of where you should and shouldn’t go." He had told me, "Do you think love and freedom can be found within the confines of this Nest? Compared to here, life is much richer in the Outskirts. There’s something I’ve been pondering for a long time, and I thought that maybe that’s where I could find the answer."
The day later was when he took me to meet you. You already know that day.
Indeed, I do.
Whenever I spoke with Demian, I could feel my soul mature a little. But I never mentioned my fears about the upcoming prosthetic procedure or my peculiar relationship with Kromer. Even though he wanted to know more about me, I was hesitant to share my secrets.
I was too ashamed to bear my deeply hidden fears before him.
…I can understand why.
But now you see my fears.
Clear as day.
Do you think lesser of me for it?
Why would I?
It's just…
Everyone is afraid, Sinclair. Me, you, and probably Demian too. Everyone has at least one thing that haunts them. It's okay to be scared to talk. You will when you're ready.
…
You sound like him sometimes.
Do I now?
Yeah… You do.
…hm.
I'll continue now…
Thank you, Sinny.
…
And finally… The promised day had come.
"Yo, Sinclair, can you show me your basement?" Her words struck me out of nowhere, yet they were as light as a feather.
She asked me that as though it were something as simple as picking up an eraser, and I almost caught myself agreeing to it.
"W- Why our basement, exactly?"
"If the rumor I just so happened to hear is right, your house is connected to a scandalous place. There’s something I’ve got to check."
"But my parents…"
'…won’t like it.'
I couldn’t even bring myself to finish this humiliating sentence.
"If you let me check it out, Sinclair… I swear I’ll keep that promise with you, cross my heart." She leaned in closer, smile almost sickeningly sweet, "Just sneak me the basement key and I can navigate just fine…"
Unable to detect the faint, familiar feeling hidden in her words, I slowly nodded… Thus, the world of evil began there, right in the middle of our house.
…
I wish I listened to your words.
You can't alter the past, Sinclair.
No one can…
…
After stealing the key without my parents noticing, I took Kromer to the basement of my estate as I had promised. From there, she led me to a dirty air vent. Crawling in the unlit vent for a while, a dank, grimy odor and the sounds of small critters scuttling about assaulted my senses.
My clothes were stained with filth, my throat was parched, and I was overcome with the desire to go back. That’s when I noticed that the smell my nose picked up had just changed from the stench so far.
"Can you feel it?" Kromer whispered to me. "There’s something up ahead…!"
This might have been the last chance I had to turn back. It might have been better to dissuade her with all kinds of sweet placations to leave and come back later.Even if I knew that empty flattery wouldn’t work on her.
But before I could try, a vile curiosity came over me. I was entering a world where villains belonged for the first time. And for some reason…
I gave up turning back. All while knowing in my heart that I was squandering my last chance.
Oh, the loathsome sight I had to witness; it was something I couldn’t think to behold twice. Could “monstrosity” be an apt description for what I saw?
It seemed too sentient for that, yet it also seemed decidedly wrong to say that it was even remotely human.
Like me?
No. Not like you. Nothing like you.
Nothing is like you.
…
"Huk… Guhgh…" Shuddering in fear, I started to regret stepping into this world.
Sinclair, you idiot, look at yourself. Hoping by some miracle to get another chance right after you’ve wasted it.
Along with my regret, I had the feeling that I’d never forget what I saw that day until the moment I die.
"K—Kro…mer… I… I’ve gotta go back…"
On the other hand, Kromer was enraptured. She was mesmerized by the scene, watching intently as though she had made a discovery of a lifetime.
"……"
Leaving Kromer all enamored to herself, I crawled backward for the exit. Why is my basement connected to such a horrid place? How did Kromer know this? Why isn’t she scared, either? Why did she stare at it with just as much awe on her face when she saw you?
Maybe she views you as something like that.
You don't know half of it…
I could almost hear Kromer’s spine-chilling whistles with the wind blowing from behind. The very next day, Kromer came to school as if nothing had happened.
"Sinclair, thank you so much more for showing me precious things. Take these as my thanks." She handed two mysterious coins to me. "Always keep them at your side. Got it?"
All I could do was nod.
Since then, the things I saw in that vent constantly haunted my mind. And I began to consciously avoid Kromer.
…
I could picture myself involuntarily trembling in terror just by looking at her. But there was something I needed to take back from her.
The basement key.
My parents could find out at any moment. One minute of sorting the keys is all it would take. For the first time, I betrayed my parents living in a world of warmth…
I was afraid that my deviation from their world would end up becoming an irrefutable fact.
"Kromer… Won’t you give it back now?"
"Give back what?"
"The… basement key…"
"…Pft."
I mustered the courage to ask one day. Kromer burst into laughter, as though she didn’t expect this from me. Intimidated, I slowly stepped back.
"Pwahahaha!!! Oh, and here I was wondering what you were struggling so hard to say… Fine, you can have it, Sinclair. We don’t need the key anymore." My hands fumbled when I caught it. "And besides…"
"Your grudge will most certainly bear fruit, Sinclair. You didn’t want to get your procedure, right? You remember our promise? You fulfilled my grudge, so it’s only fair that I pay you back."
I was too absorbed in the relief of getting my key back to realize what Kromer was really talking about, and I curse my ignorance for it.
About what Kromer’s "we” really meant. About why she said it’s not needed any more, and how she was going to fulfill my grudge…
I didn’t think to question a single thing, and for that… I regret my inaction; I curse my foolishness.
You couldn't have known…
But what does that mean when I made such a mistake?
I…
"So you ended up giving Kromer the key." Demian had told me one day. It was one of the first times he had spoken to me since you had disappeared from that alleyway without a trace.
"How do you know that?"
Demian had this ability to get a grip on things I’d never mentioned to him. When I asked him about it, he just said it's “something you learn by carefully observing others”, and didn’t elaborate further.
"Sinclair, a series of much more painful events may await you in the future. But you mustn’t give up. That pain will foster your growth into a beautiful being."
No matter how complicated and perplexing those statements seemed, Demian’s mystic charm made them all sound convincing. Listening to his speech gave me the hope that I could really grow. I was hopeful that I could become a worthy being.
"Yeah… But I don’t really get it though, Demian."
"It’s up to you to find out. Make sure to tell me your answer when you do." His voice was soft, and his eyes imparted pleasantness, but I still felt compelled to do as he said.
His eyes must have held some kind of power. Disarming those who make eye contact with him, sapping them of mental strength.
But… If that’s the case, why didn’t he warn me? It’s something I still ask myself to this day.
Would you had believed him if he did?
…
How do you look upon me so kindly if all I've done is make mistakes time and time again?
There's just a part of me that cares for you, Sinny. It's as simple as that.
And because I do the same thing. Over and over again. Constant mistakes. Again and again and again.
…
It was Christmas Eve, and the whole town was filled with jingles and joy. Under the blessing of the holy night, I was planning to confess my sin to my family.
I wanted to tell them that I made the foolish mistake of stealing the basement key and that I’d go back to being a good son. That the short time I spent away from the right path was agonizing. That I learned how peaceful and fulfilling the world I’d been living in truly was.
My family might be surprised at first, but I was sure they’d welcome me back into their paradise. That was how it should’ve been. However…
"Huh…?"
I was supposed to hear a robot dog greet me when I stood at the gate, but my home was covered in silence and darkness. When I walked inside, I was confronted with a fallen paradise.
"Sinclair… Run…" The mangled body of my sister had begged me.
"Si… Sincl… S-S-Sisisi―" Someone smashes my father’s head.
It’s a disturbing individual wearing rusty silver armor.
"How unsightly of these non-humans to still admire humanity and display false emotion."
"Let those impure things be, Guido. It’s their survival instincts kicking in." Kromer had said calmly, covered in the remains of what once was my family. "Or should I say… they’re scared of shutting down? Haha!"
Pieces of metal, flesh, and blood fly into the air before hitting the floor.
"Sinclair! You’re here!!!"
The thrill in her voice made me want to vomit.
"Ah… Ahh…"
Kromer approaches, carrying a hammer stained with blood and flesh. When she caught me eyeing it, she simply cocked her head. "Oh, this thing?"
"Ever since I was little, I couldn’t stand being involved with filthy affronts to humanity like these. Because I’m a humanitarian who loves all things human!"
"Now imagine how it feels to face the son of a pack of those affronts to humanity… Just what should I do with you, Sinclair? Hmm?"
My legs have long given up. My mouth couldn’t move. It was as if my whole body refused to cooperate.
I saw Kromer standing right before me. I couldn’t dare look up. Terror kicked in with the realization that she was so close to me, and my eyes shut themselves tight. The thought that the same hammer that crushed my father, mother, and sister would now come for me was unbearable.
"……"
But nothing happened.
Confused, I carefully opened my eyes and lifted my head. Kromer was watching me.
Making a perfect smile just like the one she’d made when she first came to my desk and told me her name.
"Well, you are my hero, Sinclair." She then reaches into the pocket on my school shirt and takes out a coin. It’s one of the two she handed me the other day.
"From now on… You’ll doubt everything, be anxious of everything… and live in ever-constant terror as your memories of me haunt you."
"Nhh… Ungh…"
"And, when the time comes… I will call for you." She had stood up, looking over her shoulder. "Hey! Someone take this kid to safety! Lay a finger on him and I’ll make you regret it."
Amidst the piercing noise, storms of heavy footsteps, and disorientation… I lost consciousness.
…
I'm sorry for what happened.
I wished I listened to you.
…
When I came to my senses, I found myself in an alleyway at midday, heated by the sun. I stayed there on the ground, dazed and confused. I could see a haze rise from the surface.
"Sinclair. A crack has been made in your world."
I felt like I was starting to understand what the strange feeling I often got from Demian was. I always found it weird how I never heard his footsteps.
Why does everything arrive in desolate silence as if it belongs to no world at all? The loss of my family, the world of evil, all this despair… And you, too.
What does that mean?
I… don't really know.
…
"Are you scared, Sinclair?" He spoke to me.
He had the eyes of a person who saw through everything, and the attitude of someone who predicted this series of events. He didn’t even wait for me to reply, like he knew what I was going to say.
"One day, you’ll break it altogether and soar. And I… wish to see you completely bare."
He responded as if he already knew the answer I was hesitating on. Although his words seemed to radiate warmth…
I felt a certain chill, like biting into the cold insides of a half-cooked turkey…
I couldn’t help but fall unconscious again.
–—
What happened next felt more like a blur than anything. I caught a glimpse of you and her fighting atop that mountain, and started to tear through the Inquisitors. They weren't even people in that moment, just things in my way.
Dante didn't even have time to equip an ID on me by the time I was halfway done dragging myself up the mountain, other Sinners seeming so far behind. I heard faint sounds of the struggle between you and Kromer, until I heard a shriek and watched you come tumbling down over the side.
You collided straight into me, grunting in pain, and I barely kept myself upright as I caught you. Your face was contorted in pain, you barely lifted your head to stare at me in the eyes before I saw it.
A nail pierced straight through one of the wings on your back and stabbing into your tail. The appendage was limp, twitching slightly as green blood oozed from your wound. Each twitch had made you grimace, but you forced your lips apart to smile at me.
"Right on time." I remember you croaking out, but what you said next was an inaudible whisper. All I could do was look up from you to Kromer standing on the peak. She was illuminated by the Golden Bough, and small yet deep gashes gushed blood from her face.
But the worst part about it was her silence. She stared down at us with an unreadable expression, before she started to laugh. Not the usual giggle I heard from her in my youth or her maniacal laughter I heard as she watched us suffer…
No. Her laugh was a slow, intense thing. She just stared down at us, before turning and disappearing beyond the corpses in our view. You and I simply glanced at each other after, and I wanted to speak to you, but then your swords came to ruin the moment.
They flew up, slamming together and spinning around you. I don't know how you tolerated them, with how chaotic and bothersome they could be, but… You're just kind enough to tolerate them. You had greeted them with a smile, and they almost seemed angry when they saw your injury. I wanted to say something, but the others had caught up too.
My moment with you was ruined.
–★★★–
You were sore, in pain, covered in blood both yours and not, and exhausted. It was not a pleasant mix of emotions and sensations. Especially when you had to drag your weakened body to the top of a mountain of corpses that were still wet with eternally fresh blood.
At least by the time the Sinners had rolled around, they were able to help you reach the peak. This time, free from the arms of any deranged women. And speaking of her…
The way Kromer stands is opposite of how it was in game. Hell, of how she was earlier. She's slouched, body slightly limp with the largest grin plastered on her face. One of her eyes was lidded with the wound along it and the blood dripping along its crease. Her eyes though, with pupils mere pinpricks, fixated on the sight of you and Sinclair standing next to one another. Then her gaze fell to the nail still in your wing, and she let out a deep chuckle.
"I warned you~" She coos, rising up slightly as she now wields yet another nail. "And yet you still chose to bite me. You should've just-"
"Shut up." Sinclair snapped at her, moving between the two of you. "I won't allow you to say another word to them."
"Ah! Look who finally grew a spine!" She laughs, tilting back her head. "And for the [Name] they love oh so much! Well? Sinclair? Were you able to find an answer in your heart’s path?"
"…Kromer." He hissed through gritted teeth.
"Ahaha, don’t give me that look. It’s not even time yet…" She abruptly stilled, "You’re making me want to kill you."
You draw back slightly as her smile softens. "Ahu… No, no. I should abstain… I can’t let immediate entertainment distract me from the more important things."
Faust leaned towards the 11th Sinner, expression almost inching towards grim. "Sinclair, the only way to retrieve a Golden Bough that’s begun to resonate is…"
"I know." His voice is grave as he tightens his hold on his halberd. "Even if it weren’t for our mission… I’d still tear that bitch to pieces… and drink up her remains."
"Pfh… Ahahaha!!" Kromer roared in a twisted delight, a hand smearing the blood running down her face as she wiped a tear off her cheek. "Kuhuu… Oh, Sinclair…! When did you learn to act so tough? That’s not like you at all… What a riot… Pfft."
"Still… Well, I guess you’ve made some friends since then." She tilted her head, raising her nail slightly, "You won’t run away this time, will you?"
She stills, as do you, when you realize the ID equipped on him is The One Who Shall Grip. How the hell did Dante get him to agree to this..? She says something about it, but you're rather focused on other matters.
Especially when you're tossed to the back, held onto tightly by Dante and kept squarely out of conflict. You have very few qualms, having stayed awake since almost six in the morning and having been effectively tortured by an actual maniac. How late is it even..?
You're unable to peer into your own eye, though, and Dante's head doesn't serve to tell accurate times. So you'll have to go a little longer without knowing the time. Oh well.
And the fight was… going partially in the Sinners' favor? Some were most certainly dead within a few turns, yes, and they were rather beaten to a pulp, but they remained standing. Any IDs equipped were stripped off with how weakened they were, but they remained upright.
Yet so did Kromer. And she was standing over a collapsed Sinclair. She chuckles, then reaches into his coat.
"Now then, it’s time, Sinclair." She mused, "I’ll be taking the second coin… your last chance."
"Why are you… doing this to me…" He grunted, trying to push her away and resist, "Why… me…"
"Sinclair, do you wanna know why I gave you back the basement key when you asked?" She asked, leaning close to his face until their foreheads touched. "Listen close. It’s not because I’d made my discovery or baked a copy of it. It’s because you were my key. You see, I happen to know of a way to take a peek at the futures that might come true."
"I saw one among them where you and I travel from Nest to Nest, slaughtering heretics together all around the City. Even though you were raised by heretics bearing revolting metal bodies… Part of you still felt disgusted by them. Funny, isn’t it?"
"You would stab them in the head with your halberd!"
You don't want to just stand here weakly. There has to be something you can do.
"D- Don’t you lie to me…" He tried to hiss out.
Your gaze falls to the nail in your wing.
"While I smash their heads with a hammer!"
You have an idea. A stupid idea, yes, but you've always had rather stupid ideas.
"Stop it…!"
"[Name], don't." Dante pleaded when you tried to move towards the scene, "I'll get someone else to step in-! You don't have to hurt yourself further…"
"Ahaha… In that world, you looked like the freest person in the universe, transcending everything."
"I'm not letting you hold me back again." You told them, watching them flinch and let you go. You turn your head away, and move to Kromer as fast as you can with your quaking legs.
"No…" Sinclair's voice rose, "You’re lying!!!"
The wound burned as you dragged the nail out of it.
"Whether I’m lying or not…" She cracked a wry laugh as you raised the weapon and drove it straight into her leg with as much force as you could muster. She gasped, collapsing to the ground as Sinclair pushed himself away.
Her head snapped up towards yours, expression clouded by the hair fallen into her face. She doesn't even laugh, merely smiles as her hands reach up, balling the cloth of your stained jacket into small lumps. Her eyes glimmer with adoration, and the light from the Bough grows more intense.
Her string shakes and writhes like a snake. Her pupils blow as her string bundles into a knot.
"You… you..! You… are truly the most beautiful human I've ever seen-!"
Everyone is blown away as a mass of flesh engulfs her lower half. You're collapsed into the bloody ground beneath you, hacking and gasping for air as you slowly look at the abomination she has become.
"Come…" She beckoned to you and Sinclair, hair billowing up like flames. "Rip me up and chew me down. If you can, that is… Keheh."
–—
The ground was burning. It snapped at your flesh and tore through your uniform, weakening your legs until you tumbled straight onto the ground.
You are not alone in this. Everyone other than Kromer is melting. She instead looms above, maniacally laughing as she relishes in this sight.
All other Sinners appear to have given up. But Sinclair crawls towards Kromer even as he melts, teeth bared as he's overtaken with the sheer determination to strike her down.
"Yes! That’s it! It hurts, doesn’t it? You’re filled with rage, aren’t you? Accept it all! Welcome it with open arms!" She spread out her arms, "And watch me! Watch my glorious body, closer to the purest form of humanity than ever before! This flesh here! The sheer, unmatched strength of purity!"
"Ahh, Sinclair… Look at how human you are! You can become like me too!" She coos, before her gaze falls to you. Dante feebly tries to interfere and your Blades are trying to help lift you off the acidic ground, and you feel a fleshy hand ensnare your waist as she lifts you into the air. "And like them!"
"I’ll… You’re…" Sinclair attempts to shout, yet his voice is weak.
"You're evil…" You hiss at her, "And I hope your death hurts..!"
"Shhh…" She tells you, before she looks down at the 11th Sinner once more. "Sinclair, you were scared all along, weren’t you? You lost your family, and you had to ride a bus with these strangers, forced to do things you didn’t want, forced to watch [Name] suffer! You knew in your heart that you didn’t belong there, right? Didn’t you want to run? Didn’t you want to quit it all? Am I wrong?"
"I swear, I…" He tries to choke out, starting to tremble.
"Join me, Sinclair! Don’t avoid this, embrace it! Complete my grudge!" Sinclair was growing weaker by the second-! "You must accept the pain! Only when we have transcended suffering itself can we be reborn!"
"Bloat the flesh, spill the blood! Adding on the most human things each second! To the purest world where the impurities plaguing the city of all folks have been filtered out!"
"Mama… Papa… Sis…" Sinclair choked out, and Dante took a breath.
"Sinclair! Listen to me!"
You do what you can to give them an approving smile.
"I know you think a lot! I know there’s a lot going on in your head that you can’t share with others!"
"My family died because of me…" Sinclair murmured, "I said stuff I really shouldn’t have…"
"Exactly! It’s all your fault- so embrace it! That’s the way to become wholly reborn!" Kromer shouts, "Follow me… and rest in my grip! Just as they do!"
As if you're willing in any of this-!
"Don’t listen to her! You have to see! Look at her! Observe her carefully!"
"Ah…" But Sinclair didn't seem to hear Dante anymore. Not as his halberd clattered to the ground. He collapsed, accepting his fate just as the others did.
"Sinclair…" Dante murmurs, and you take a breath.
"HEY! Sinny!" You shout down at him causing him to twitch, "What happened to the plan?"
He lifts his head slightly at that.
"You know- where I shank her! Slice her ankle and watch her fall… Cheer you on as you beat her to a pulp! She may got more ankles now, but I can achieve something-!"
"You got goals, don't you? So please just-" The tears in your eyes burn and her grip on you is so tight you can barely breathe- "Keep going! Even when it hurts!"
Kromer opens her mouth to speak again, glaring at you from the corner of her eye. "Why won't you relent to me?" She silently asks, "Why won't you give in?"
"They're right!" Dante agrees, "Look, look closely! Sinclair! Not with your eyes, but with your heart! Only then… will you see what matters most."
"Only then… will you see what matters most." A certain voice echoes, and you gasp as you're stripped from Kromer's grip and lowered towards the ground gently.
"And when you can see the things that matter most…" Demian murmurs as he floats down from the heavens, blue scarf billowing behind him, "You won’t have to stifle yourself with shallow threats or cheap tricks. Isn’t that right, Sinclair?"
He smiled at the sight of the boy, even if weakened. He landed next to where you were, set delicately upon the acidic ground with your Blades hovering close to hold you out of it. You cling to the weapons, and they strain to keep you free of being melted to an incomprehensible pile of flesh.
He glanced at Kromer, and waved his right arm, and you watched as Kromer's upper half was severed. And, before she could react, she was gone.
There was no string that remained.
"D… Demian…" Sinclair choked out, trying to rise with melting limbs.
Demian spared you a glance, before approaching the 11th Sinner.
You’ve changed your own fate, Sinclair. Right now, you’re neither a coward nor a hero. But you’ve still yet to let go of your fears completely." He blinked, sign on his forehead almost glimmering, "I’ve said it before, haven’t I? 'When you fear someone…'"
"'That’s because… you gave them the power to have control over you…'" Sinclair murmurs.
"That’s right. And I… don’t want anyone else to domineer over you. Which is why I got rid of that Kromer." He walked with light, airy steps, never quite making contact with the ground. "The world is about to head for a new birth. And, only a few individuals can get there."
"Sinclair, you’re one of them." Demian watched as Sinclair finally fell unconscious, and simply nodded as he moved to Dante with a slow, methodical pace.
"Kromer… attempted to become a god, like those which people of the past were said to believe in. Sinclair almost became her stepping stone. In the end, though, one has to break an egg on their own." He glanced toward her ruined lower half, "Kromer put in quite a bit of effort, doing this and that to create a throwback to the time when Sinclair lost his first coin."
"Irregardless of the fact that Christmas is still a while away… It’s ironic that they resorted to creating false imagery, something they loathed so deeply. Don’t you think so?"
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
"A pleasure to meet you, Dante." Demian murmured, "So, you’re the adult who will condition Sinclair at the moment. As for who I am… And for what I was talking about; you’ll see in due time."
Dante drew back slightly, startled.
"When Sinclair takes flight with unshakable faith in the power of the heart… Right. When he becomes one with beautiful stars…" He looks back out at the scene, "…That is when I’ll return. Take good care of Sinclair until then, Dante. I'd ask the same for [Name], yet that is not something they need help with achieving."
"You… You can hear me?" Dante asks slowly, amazed.
"I can hear all sorts of chirps and trills, Dante. It’s only natural that I hear your voice." Demian said with an almost-smile ghosting his face. "As always… What matters most is something you can’t see or hear. Or, perhaps, something you can't bring yourself to see or hear."
He approached you as Dante crawled towards Sinclair, saying some words to the now dead man as Demian's eyes almost seemed to sparkle when he approached.
"Haa… about time I ran into you again…" You choked out, "Shame it couldn't be under a better time…"
"Time is something you value greatly, is it not?" Demian muses, walking around you. "Even as it changes you."
"Yeah, yeah… poetic language." You mutter, turning your head away. "I know. You can spare me it now, though. I'm honestly… exhausted."
"I can tell." He says quietly, reaching out to rest a hand on your head with an almost sympathetic look. You allow it.
"…I still you an ice cream date." You comment, eyes closing. "Let's say we make it up sooner than later, m'kay?"
Demian lets out a whisper of a laugh. "Very well. I shall come see you when the time comes."
And then he vanished without a trace. You opened your eyes, and the Blades trembled as they seemed to give into the melting space, and you fell to the ground. Your head rung, and darkness crept into your vision. Dante was now moving towards you, half reduced to goop, and you shut your eyes and allowed sleep to consume you. You weren't awake for when the LCCA arrived.
–★★★–
I'm honestly glad I listened to your advice. Writing out the events of what happened felt like a complete and utter relief. I feel almost lighter, in a sense.
But when I read over what I wrote… I realize I am an evil man. I am an evil, horrible man who's grown consumed by the thoughts of you. That isn't right. I'm not…
But a part of me doesn't care. I want your love, and as long as you never find out about the horrible things I want to do to you… You never need to find out I watch you sleep. You never need to find out how I want to approach your sleeping body and do horrible things to it. You never need to know how jealous I am that Dante gets to share a room with you and that you seem closer with Rodion and Gregor than you are with me.
I can get you to love me. I can get you to love me as long as you never realize my desires for you are as bad as hers. I'm a monster of a person, but as long as I get you I don't care.
I'm going to try and convince you to alter the contract. To form one with me and spend the rest of your life in me. I can't keep you safe, but I'll charge headfirst into any situation where your at risk and fight till I die. I will do anything for you. All I want is you to look at me like how I look at you.
Elena doesn't matter. Your past life doesn't matter. Just please tell me you love me. Please. Please. Please Please Please please please please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple
–★★★–
You awoke with a splitting headache. You tried to sit up, only to grunt in pain and fall back to a laying position.
Slowly now, you don't want to overexert yourself.
Oh, so now she's back?
I wasn't the one who could dictate when I could speak with you. I believe the resonating Bough prevented me, perhaps.
…
You sit up slowly, taking care not to press too hard into the mattress you were left on. Looking around, you realize you're in Dante's room, on Dante's bed, and all your injuries are carefully wrapped up. The door is open and the lights are dim, and you can faintly hear noise coming from the front of the bus.
Orbi is napping on the windowsill, and no one else is in the room with you.
The Blades drag against the ground as they rise to met you, circling you twice before their handles lightly nudge you.
"I'm okay…" You tell them, "I'll rest in a few minutes. I just want to check on the others…"
They nudge you again, and follow behind you by a few meters as you slowly, you drag yourself out of bed, carefully rising to stand.
Relieved, you find walking seems easier than sitting up, and you head to the main cabin of Mephistopheles. All the Sinners seem rather chipper, Charon's humming a Christmas song, and everyone is eating…
"Chicken kebabs?"
Your voice makes everyone pause for a moment, staring at you, before Dante rushes over.
"What are you doing out of bed? You're still injured-!" They frantically ask, trying to turn you around and make you rest again. "You need to lay down and rest-!"
"I'll be fine being up for a few minutes…" You protest, pushing away their hands with a gentle shove. "Anyways, did you get preferential treatment or something..? 'Cus you look fine and I look…" Like you just crawled out of a hospital.
Not one trace of being melted remains on their body. Meanwhile, your legs are still killing you from when they were partially reduced to goop. Good thing you were kept out of most of it.
"Oh- uh-" Dante stutters, flames on their head dimming slightly. "I'm not sure I can…"
"Faust has acquired information, from the LCCA, that you are unaffected by K Corp ampules. There is no evident explanation for this phenomenon, it is simply the case." The 2nd Sinner calmly explained, more focused on something related to her work than eating kebabs like the others. "It is simply the case that you are incapable of instantaneous regeneration."
"Ah, well…" Shit. "…okay then."
You look around slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. "Glad to see everyone's doing alright after… Gah… How long has it been since we all got back?"
"Like four hours, bud." Gregor answers with a puff of his cigarette, "You should head back to bed soon."
"May take you up on that offer…" You mumble, stifling a yawn that dared to creep up.
"Hm. First." Vergilius held up a kebab in the air, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"Got me one?" You ask, slowly creeping forward to take it.
"Well, you are a member of the LCB." Ishmael points out, as if it's the most matter of fact thing. There's a few murmurs of agreement from the other Sinners.
Do they really think of you as one of them..? Are you even one of them..?
It's your choice if you want to risk growing comfortable here.
She's right… you need to keep your guard up and find a way home. And out of this body.
"…Yeah, I guess your right."
You take the kebab, still warm, as Vergilius gives you a slight nod. You take a deep breath, turning on your heel. "Well! You all get some rest soon too. I'm going to go be unconscious for the next dozen or so hours, so if you need a dopey idiot for anything, I am not your guy. Night—or, morning, I guess…"
You push past the Sinners, moving to head back to the room. No one stops you, even if Sinclair seems to fidget as you go. You pay it no mind, just stepping back to the more silent space as you return to your resting spot. You usher the Blades in first, ready to step in and flop onto the bed.
"Assistant Manager."
You look over to see Outis standing back where you entered from, expression serious.
"I must speak with you."
"Can it wait..?" You ask, "I'm kind of injured and sleep deprived, Outis…"
She isn't someone you want to talk to…
Is it because she killed Effie?
Well, you're at fault for it. You should've spoken up about the ampules, been competent enough to pull them out in time, and he wouldn't be…
But she was the one to do the killing.
…
Kromer tortured him to near death. Dante gave the orders to hold you back and kill him. Outis was the one who proposed and took the action. All three had a role to play, in my eyes. And, judging from how you perceive them, your eyes too.
Do you hate them because of this?
…Carmen. Now isn't the time.
I'm merely asking what you think.
Is this what you asked when Enoch died? Who's fault it was?
…
Do not talk to me about this.
I understand your anger, but you need to settle on who you believe is Effie's murderer. Because you must understand this wasn't your fault to any degree, [Name].
I'll leave you for now. You need space, and time to process. I just ask for an answer when I return.
"-Assistant Manager!" You realize Outis is closer now, looking frustrated. "Hmph. How could someone as incompetent as you land a spot such as this? You let yourself be kidnapped!"
"Outis, now isn't the time…"
"I am making a valid point! You constantly make foolish and rush actions without discussing with the Executive Manager! How did you even acquire those ampules in the first place? You didn't move from Vergilius' side."
"Outis, just let me rest-"
"Answer my questions! What are you playing at, you vile demon?"
"Outis-"
"Do not attempt to-"
"Outis-!"
"I want answers-"
"Now isn't-"
"Now is the perfect-!"
"Please just let me-"
"I will not 'just let you'! I want you to-"
"Oh my- Do you ever shut up, Odysseus?!"
The name makes Outis shut her mouth quickly, eyes widening in shock as she reels back. Regret for spewing out what you believe to be her true name leaves you with instant regret, but it's too late to backtrack now. You cannot answer her questions without being utterly fucked over.
"I…" You sigh, "I'm sorry, I just want to go to bed. I'm not interested in an interrogation right now. I'm starting to regret even bothering to come check on you lot…"
"How do you know that name?" Outis' voice is tense, and her eyes glimmer with anger.
"…" You draw your head up, staring at the string above her head. It's entirely still. "There's a lot of things I know that I shouldn't, Outis. But if I answer what you want to know, I'm going to die. And I'd prefer being beaten than dead."
You look back down at her blank face. At the confusion and rage behind her eyes. "Rest soon, Outis. Sleep well."
And you go into the room and shut the door behind you, going to sleep with regrets rather than being slaughtered at her hands.
You've made so many mistakes already… what's one more?
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; swearing; Kromer; death; kidnapping; MC harm; angst; allusions to birth; Kromer is told to “kys”; genocide; sort of bondage
Note: A scene in this is inspired by a piece of fanart I found by scrolling Sinclair images. Link to OG post of it here: https://www.reddit.com/r/limbuscompany/comments/1hl8ej6/a_collection_of_sinclair_art_by_yono_neie/
Oh also a LOT happens in this chapter. Please come screech to be in my inbox or dms about it I love hearing your opinions and theories (comments are peak too!!)
Also note from Editingdri (Editing Endri): I realized I didn’t add any ghost scenes during the editing. Don’t worry, I plan to make this up next chapter
The bus comes to life with a hiss. The wheels drag on the smooth pavement and Mephistopheles starts gliding along the road with an unusual slow smoothness. As if, now that she’s in a Nest, Charon is finally obeying the road laws.
You, luckily, managed to excuse yourself to your room for a few minutes. Played it off as getting something you realized you forgot. Which, yeah, you did forget to grab Yuri’s sword. But mostly…
It was an excuse to pet Orbital Missile Launcher, and get away from all the Sinners. Back home, you just could laugh at their stupidity from the safety of your bed. But here…
“Mewo?”
A quiet chuckle escapes your lips as your talons rake Orbi’s soft fur. She purrs loudly, small claws digging into your pants as her tail slaps your arm, mismatched eyes squeezed shut as she squirms and rolls about in your lap.
Your gaze falls to your own claws. Large, black, sharp, and almost looking like a pen tip. They almost horrify you, in a way. With how inhuman they are. With how they’re a part of this body. This body you hate.
Hate… hate… hate.
You scoop up the kitten, who let’s out a confused “mrrp?” as you do so. You hold her under the shoulders, and her little paws rest on your snout as she looks pleased to see you.
“You don’t even care I’m a freak…” You murmur, and she purrs in response. “You don’t even seem to understand I’m a human in a body that isn’t, do you? No, you don’t even know your name’s Orbital Missile Launcher, hm?”
She tilts her head, tiny ears twitching.
“You’re just a dumb little baby. But you’re my dumb little baby.” You coddle her in your arms, “I’ll do what I can to take you home with me. You like other cats, right? I think you’ll get along fine with mine.”
She wriggles in your arms. “Mewo! Me mow mew! Me mow mew!”
You shush her, laughing under your breath. She’s a precious little thing… fat, smells kind of bad, and very loud and stupid…. But precious.
A knock at the door startles you up. Your head snaps over, and you watch in horror as the door opens. You start to move Orbi behind you, but Sinclair nervously peeks his head into the room.
“[Name]? You almost…” He trails off when he sees the kitten you're holding, eyes widening as his mouth gapes.
“Wait- wait-!” You squeak, trying to turn your body away to shield Orbi from any passerby, “Get in- shut the door, dammit!”
He shakes slightly as he comes in, closing the door behind him. “Is that..?”
“Yes, yes. Fine, yes.” You sigh, “It’s a kitten.”
“Why..?” He stands, back pressed against the door, “Why do you..?”
“I… I found her on the streets.” You admit, “Back in the Backstreets..? I snuck her onboard, okay?”
“How didn’t…” He hesitates, “How has no one found her?”
“Well…” You click your tongue, “Dante knows. So do Rodya and Gregor. They’re the only ones. Well, outside of me. And you now, I guess.”
He just stares at you- specifically the cat- in wide-eyed silence.
You squint at him. “...dude, don’t just stand there. C’mere. Wanna pet her?”
He grimaces. “...are you..?”
“She doesn’t bite.” You quickly tell him, “Well, outside of my feathers, that is. But she doesn’t bite hard… And she’s just a really cute little thing. C’mon.” You pat the spot on the bed next to you, giving him an expectant look.
He glances at the door behind him, thinking. Slowly, he looks back to you, yellow eyes shining in anxiety. “...Vergilius is going to kill you when he finds out.”
“If.” You correct, “If he finds out. Which he won’t.”
He clearly does not believe you. But, nonetheless, he creeps over, slowly sitting next to you and eyeing Orbi like she’s about to kill him. You just roll your eyes, and plop the cat in his lap.
He flinches when you do, hands drawn back, and stares at the mud brown kitten. Orbi blinks, confused, before circling and kneading his pantlegs.
Sinclair nervously glances at you, silently asking for instruction. You sigh, and gesture to him to pet her. He frowns, looking down at her, and slowly lowers his hands. A gloved hand falls onto her back, and slowly drags down.
Orbi meows again, pleased, before licking his finger.
You see him almost melt right then and there.
“What’s got you so on edge? Just worried about getting in trouble?” You ask him, bemused.
“...I’ve never done this before.” He shyly tells you.
“Eh? You never pet a cat?”
“...No. I never really had any pets growing up. And my family…” He trails off, “...I don’t know if they were the kind of people to like animals. They never really talked about it, so…”
“Oh- oh, I- I didn’t…” You trail off. “...Well, first time for everything, okay?”
“Mhm.” He nods slightly, a faint smile on his face. You look back at the door, but from the corner of your eye you don’t miss the giant grin on his face when Orbi nudges his hands.
“Haa… Didn’t know you were a cat-guy, Sinny.” His face flushes at your comment, and you giggle. “Hey, you’re in the know now, okay?”
“O…kay?” He echoes, unsure of what you mean.
“So… you gotta help keep Orbi secret, okay?”
He pales. “Are you sure…?”
“What? I can’t delete your memory.” You tell him, “Just keep quiet about her, m’kay?”
“I… uh… alright. I will.”
“Thank you.” You tell him. “...Hey, why’dya even come here?”
He chokes. “Oh- uh- Dante was wondering what took you so long, so I… I got told to come check on you.”
Really..?
“Oh- yeah, haha…” You laugh softly, “Guess I should head back, eh?”
“...yeah. Guess you should.”
But neither of you move. He’s just petting the cat in his lap, and you're watching him. The way his hair shakes as his head bobs, shining gold in the bits of light. His smile at the cat, the way he slouches when relaxed, and…
That golden string sticking out of the center of his head and poking up. Unlike usual, it’s twitching. Almost faintly vibrating, like the strings on a guitar when you strum it.
Your cheek rests in your palm as you watch it, curious. What does it do..? Why do people have it? Is it like a person’s life force? No… why would it appear to resonate with Boughs if it was just life force?
You don’t even realize your hands are moving until you strum it yourself.
And you’re sent plunging down into nothing.
–★★★–
You cannot move.
You’re trapped in that nothing, like a fetus in a womb. You can’t move, you can’t see, you can’t scream. You can’t do anything.
Breathing is both impossible and burns your lungs, but you inhale nothing. Your eyes burn but you cannot cry. But you struggle. And you continue to struggle.
And, somehow, the nothing that traps you feels thinner, like stretched fabric. So a spark of hope burns within you, and you push. And you push, and push, and push.
And it tears, and you’re left blinded by golden light. A scream tears from your lungs, and you tumble to the ground in a wet heap. You lay there, gasping for air and crying. Hot tears stream down your cheeks and your fingers dig at the tiled ground you’re left on.
There is no one to hug you, there is no one to comfort you, and you’re left alone and helpless.
Your cries die down slowly, blinking desperately in the sunlight streaming into your eyes, and try to understand where you are.
You’re alone on a street made of paved tile. It’s smooth, and generally clean.
Well, excusing the patch of unidentifiable black liquid slowly spreading into a gradually thinning puddle. It smells weird, really weird. Like paper and ink… and water and earth… and the foul, piercing stench of blood and rot.
It coats you in a thin film, slimy to touch and clinging to your clothes and flesh. You push yourself to your unsteady feet, taking in the lush green bushes and neat black iron gates, the towering pale brick buildings that seem empty, and the rising sun on the horizon. It’s early in the morning, judging from the wisps of orange in the blue sky that reflect upon the clouds.
Is this… a school ground? Or maybe…
You don’t know where you are, but you aren’t stupid enough to stand in one place and wait for potential threats to kill you. With heavy feet, you start walking, half delirious. Did you hit your head when you fell..? You may have a concussion…
You rub your face, head stinging. What’s even going on? All you did was give into some stupid curiosity…
Gah… you’re the cat who’s going to get killed.
But… something’s wrong.
For one, there are no ghosts. You cannot hear Carmen. It’s just you.
And secondly…
You can’t feel your snout.
You press your hands to your face, feeling nothing there but a human face. Normal nose, mouth, lips, everything. Save for the gold on your face, it feels… normal.
Your hands move up, feeling your smaller horns. Your hair is the same, and your skin is still red. The wings are still there too. But your tail is thinner, your claws look more like sharp fingernails, and you’re closer to being human than you ever were before.
What the..?
You’re both scared and relieved, unsure of how this even happened. Shouldn’t it be impossible? How are you more normal now..?
Are the changes..?
You pull back the collar of your uncomfortably wet shirt, but the mouth isn’t there anymore. There isn’t even a trace of it.
…None of this should be possible. How is this happening?
But there’s no one to answer you.
With a shake of your head, you keep moving, eventually stumbling your way into a pathetic alley between three buildings, dragging yourself into the shadows in an attempt to hide from whoever will eventually come. You want to see what these people look like before revealing yourself…
You rest on the cold ground, feeling effectively hidden in the space.
And so you wait. Lounging for what feels like hours, alone outside of your own thoughts. You contemplate, hypothesize, and study what little you can see. But you don’t leave.
For a bit, you think no one will come. And then you hear the voices, and see hordes of relatively young but identically dressed people walk by. All wear the same long-sleeved, button-up white shirts, and same green vests and shorts, and you uneasily recognize where these outfits originate from.
Is this Sinclair’s school..?
You swallow a lump in your throat, shrinking back into the darkness. No one seems to notice you, nor does anyone glance your way. You just sit there, and watch. Silently, nervously watch.
You feel like an outsider again. Someone looking in on these tight-knit groups, alone and longing. But there’s no one to offer you their hand and welcome you in. Not this time…
You sigh, head tilting back as you see a glimpse of the sky above. It’s darker now, a sign of time wearing on.
You wonder if anyone on the bus noticed if you were gone yet. You wonder if anyone would recognize you with the way you looked more human. You wondered if they could find you, if they would bother.
Slowly, you look back down. There’s another group now, a small clique of boys jabbering amongst one another. They keep moving, like all who came before, save for one…
He’s young, skin almost gray with how pale it is, like a corpse. Hair short, neatly styled, and a dim brown. He stands, almost seeming to float a singular centimeter off the ground. Hands in his pockets, eyes dark blue and unnaturally clear, he stares directly at you. Seeing you in the dark.
Upon you finally noticing him, he nods slightly. That’s his only movement, outside of his eyes. They scan you top to bottom, almost looking through you, before his gaze pauses on your forehead.
What point in the timeline are you in..?
Your hands move to shield the Mark you supposedly have, grimacing at Demian. He just blinks, slowly, and starts methodically approaching you.
You shrink back further, his steps silent, and he stops before you, staring down at where you sit on the ground. You feel small, pathetic, weak… and you hate it.
“...” He stares at you in silence, and you do the same. “You’re far worse at hiding than you think you are.”
“I think I was doing just fine until you showed up…” You softly his back, relieved at how quiet he’s being. As if he knows you don’t want attention drawn to yourself. Shit, stop being stupid. Of course he knows.
“I’m simply the only one who bothered to look.” He idly tells you.
“Of course you did…” You mumble, “You’re Demian. Of course you see things other people don’t.”
His expression remains mostly impassive, though he quirks a brow. “How do you know my name?”
You let out a weak laugh. “Because we’re alike, in the sense we both know things we really shouldn’t.”
He silently watches you, and you sink back down into the earth, knowing fully well he won’t bother telling people about you. “I think you should move on. There’s someone else here more worthy of your attention than I am.”
“And what makes you not?”
“Because I’m no one special. I’ve never been. Not… until now, and I’d like to go back to before.”
He doesn’t move for a minute, before turning on his heel and walking away.
“I have a feeling this isn’t the last time we’ll speak.” He tells you as he goes, “But until then…”
But you can’t hear what he says after.
Is there a way to leave this place?
You wrack your brain but find no answers. Maybe you should just rest… especially if you’ll be here for a long time, which you potentially may. You should focus on moving under the cover of darkness, especially with how you stick out.
You sigh, lay on the ground, shut your eyes, and try to sleep.
It comes quicker than you expect.
–★★★–
“[Name]?”
You blink, feeling Sinclair lightly shake your shoulder. When you look at him, he seems relieved.
“Oh- sorry, you just looked like you were out of it for a second…”
“Wha..?” You gape, realizing you’re back in Dante’s room, Sinclair is next to you, and Orbi’s chewing on your tail. “Wait- OH-!”
How..?
You nervously giggle, looking back at your hands. Claws don’t look like they did before… you’re back to the original body.
“Uh… sorry… got kinda lost…” You trail off for a moment, “...in my thoughts, that is. Got lost in my thoughts. You know, like one does.”
Oh god, the German boy’s eyeing you warily…
“...look.” You sigh, “I’m tired. And… I think out of the two of us, you’re doing worse off. So don’t worry about me, we should worry about you.”
Sinclair tenses, averting his gaze.
“What… happened in K Corp that left you so terrified?” You ask, and Sinclair opens his mouth, before shutting it with a dull snap. “You… you don’t have to talk about it if it-”
“She’s there.”
“Eh..?” You get your best confused look on your face, “...Sinny… who’s ‘she’?”
“...”
“Uh- You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-”
“...Kromer.”
“..?” You sigh, “Who..? I’m not from here, dude… who’s Kromer?”
Sinclair grimaces, looking away. And, in the weakest voice: “The woman who killed my family.”
You tense. “Oh.”
“...I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked-”
“No. No.” You hold a hand out to him, “No, don’t say that. It’s good to talk about things like this. Thank you.”
“Thank… you?”
“For telling me.” You answer, “Because now I know the name of the bitch I need to kill.”
He chokes, gaping at you. “What?”
“Look, Sinny, my boy.” You clasp your hands together, “You’re one of my favorite people on this bus. You just… are a little guy. Like Orbi! Orbi’s a little guy. And I don’t tolerate people who hurt little guys.”
He just stares at you blankly. “So I’ll shank her when she least expects it and you can come in and kick her downed body. Did you know that, if someone were to sever another’s Achilles heel, that person wouldn’t be able to walk? So I’ll do that and you can get deserved revenge.”
You smile warmly at him, and he stares at you blankly. Then you notice how red his face is.
“...uh… dude? Your face is kinda…” You trail off, gesturing at your own face, “You almost look like me.”
“...oh- would- would you look at the time-” He suddenly blurts out, “We should go! Before someone else comes into check on us and-”
He grabs your hand, freezes, and pulls away like he was shocked. You can’t stop him from patting Orbi on the head, quickly getting up, and rushing his way to the door, swinging it open only to reveal Ishmael is standing right there.
“...” She gives him an incredulous sneer, before peering over the flustered guy’s shoulder and laying her eyes square on you. Then on Orbi.
“Is that a cat?”
–★★★–
Orbi is now the worst kept secret on this bus. In the span of one day, four Sinners plus Dante learned of her existence. That is a third of the people on this bus. You’re fucked.
At least the five seem willing to keep her a secret…
I fear it’s most likely inevitable everyone on this bus will soon come to figure out there’s a cat on board.
You hope they don’t kick her out…
While I can’t be certain, I think none of these children are heartless enough to throw a cat onto the streets.
They willingly let you onto the bus when you all first met, didn’t they?
But… even Outis..? She seems to hate your very existence… What would she do to Orbi?
Hm… yes, now that I think of it, it’s likely that only a majority of the people you work with will be willing to tolerate the cat.
A part of you wants to cry. A very large, very loud part.
You let out a muffled sigh, leaning back in your seat. Your tail thumps against the ground, feathers brushing the wood and metal. Wings twitch where they brush against Dante, and- if they care- they don’t mention it. There’s bits of chatter amongst the Sinners on the bus, but otherwise quiet. Notably, because Don isn’t daring to speak.
You glance her way. She doesn’t react, staring at the signature on her lance and shaking slightly. You can’t tell if it’s out of thrill at getting a signature from such a famous Fixer, or terror of Vergilius’ threat.
Speaking of him…
He’s focused on something else right now. Didn’t do much besides glance up when you returned with Sinclair and Ishmael and give a hum of acknowledgement. You don’t think you’ll ever like him much. At least he seems tolerant of you and him bickering.
“Check out those people, they look like they haven’t a care in the world…” Rodya says with a low whistle, taking you by the cheek from where she sits behind you and directing your attention out the window. There’s hundreds of people on the bustling streets. None bother approaching the bus, too caught up in their idle shopping and touring and peace. Compared to the Backstreets, it’s like brilliant daylight shining onto a lush park compared to a dingy streetlamp illuminating a dead bush.
You wonder… glancing at Rodya’s string, you brush it quickly, wondering if you’ll be whisked away to what you can only presume is the past.
But nothing happens beyond a confused glance from Rodya and a sheepish smile from you.
Only works on Sinclair, for some reason… Maybe it needs to be a Sinner’s Canto for it to work?
“This is way different from the roads we’ve been through.” Dante says, leaning closer to the window. They haven’t said anything to you since you got back. Are they upset at you..?
“Aha, I guess this is our manager bud’s first time traveling in the middle of a Nest.” Gregor says, “How about you, bud?”
“Eh?” You glance over at him behind you, wondering what he’s asking you.
“I mean- you don’t seem particularly surprised by all this.” He tells you, “Is this a normal sight for you, or..?”
“Well, back home, this was a common thing to see.” You tell him, “Well, in most places. Cities back home were… generally peaceful. Compared to what I usually see, places like the Backstreets are an uncommon sight.”
You shrug slightly, very aware that your origins are completely opposite of the lives of everyone on this bus. Growing up for you was average. Friends, family, everything almost stereotypical. Good grades, but not great. Good partners, but not great. Good job, but not great.
Not until… until…
…
…what was her name again? Why can’t you remember it?
“There’s a world of difference between the Nests and the Backstreets. Besides, each Nest has its own cultural heritage.” Ishmael says, helping you pull back to focusing on the present moment. But you still try to remember her name. She did so much for you… you love her. How could you just..?
“Hey, uh, [Name]?” Dante says to you, looking you way. You look into their nonexistent eyes as they tug on one of their sleeves. “...can you stop wandering off?”
Their voice is hushed, clearly not wanting this to be a conversation for everyone to hear.
At your confused look, they elaborate. “You just… leave. Wandering off to do your own thing. Didn’t I bring you here? Shouldn’t you stay by my side instead of just… disappearing?”
They have no idea… “Oh- right. Right, you have a point. It’s just… well… I am a person, you know.”
Your volume is identical to theirs, merely a hushed whisper. “I like being able to have freedom. So… how about I just let you know a bit before I go? Plus, I never go far…”
“...There was the other night.”
“Save for that.” You confess, “Look, I swear it was a one time thing and will not happen again. But like… it’s not like I’ll leave. Not until my job’s complete, that is. But until then…”
You try to smile. “Only person who’s side I’ll do all I can to stick by is yours.”
They seem to relax at that, nodding slightly. “Okay. Thank you.”
The silence between you remains a bit awkward, but you relax a bit more. Okay, Dante still has no clue you’re lying to them. If anyone else knows, they aren’t telling them. Not sure why they care about you wandering off, but you are their “bodyguard” of sorts. You’d also be uneasy if one of your only defenses just roamed away sometimes.
“Attention, all.” Vergilius’ voice rings out, causing any chattering Sinners to quiet and look his way where he stands at the front of the bus. “Our destination is the town of Calw, situated in Nest K. Investigation revealed that a passage connected to a Lobotomy Corp. branch exists somewhere in that village.”
Sinclair’s breath hitches, and he starts to shake. He sits directly in front of you, so you simply lean in close and whisper in his ear. “We’ll get the jump on her. I promise.”
He barely relaxes, but nods. He seems to trust you on this…
Well, you aren’t concerned. In fact, you’re relatively confident. Effie will be saved, and you can probably stab Kromer a good few times before letting Sinclair get his justified kill.
“But, as you have told me, a third party has occupied the area surrounding that branch facility. That’s why I requested an additional recon operation from Clearance.” Vergilius continues, unaware or ignoring you comforting Sinclair. But the others notice. They just don’t say anything.
“Preliminary Observation Unit 3 from the Before Team has been dispatched. Mr. Effie and Ms. Saude should be with them by now.” Faust adds.
“Well, glad we got two pretty darn capable people on the job.” You murmur, pleased. Sure, they’ll be maimed, but the ampules in your pocket will save them. You know they will.
“Mhm.” Vergilius dryly hums at your comment, which you realize you probably said a little louder than you’d like, and continues, “We’ll receive a report from them once they get a good grasp of the situation.”
After that, the bus resumes as normal. But Sinclair looks significantly more uneasy. Conversations resume, and Rodya slings her arms around your shoulders. “Hey~! Squishy, who’ve you dated before?”
“HUH-?!” You screech, “What- what kinda question is that to suddenly sling on someone-?”
“Hey, hey! Calm down.” She teases, pinching your cheeks, “I’m askin’ everyone, m’kay? You just get special Squishy privileges and get asked first~”
You die internally as she leans in close. “C’mon~ spill the beans! We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“It’s just- gah…” You try to squirm away, “Dante! Tell her she’s being crazy, because she’s being crazy.”
“I mean…” They shrug, “I kinda would like to know too.”
“Dante-!” You whine, “Am I not allowed to have privacy? Like the rest of you people?”
You groan at your cheeks being poked relentlessly. “Fine, fine! Just lemme go… dammit people… Not enough curses in the English language to send your way…”
Everyone in your immediate vicinity leans in close, and you start talking.
“My love life’s borin’. Sure, had some partners here and there, a good few flings, but no crazy exes or things like that. Nothing incredibly long-term either. So there, happy?”
“No special crushes or anything?” Dante probes, curious.
“Well… there was… her…”
“Ooh, ooh!” Rodya squeals, nudging you, “C’mon, don’t just leave us with that! What’s her name?”
Her name… it was…
Perhaps some things are best left buried. Maybe this is something you leave behind.
Leave… leave…
Oh! That’s right!
“...Elena.” You breathe out, “Her name is Elena. And she’s the most beautiful woman I ever met. And I can’t wait to get back to her.”
How could you forget? Forget the woman who picked up your mediocre life and helped make it wonderful? The one you’ve been wanting to kiss for years. The one you don’t even know if she…
“Jeez, you must really love this woman, eh bud?” Gregor murmurs, leaning back where he sits next to Rodya.
“What’s she like?” The 9th Sinner asks, tilting her head.
“Opposite of me in almost every way. Loud, free-spirited, energetic, optimistic… full of so many ideas and dreams and love for the world. She makes a room so much brighter when she smiles.” You sigh, “Shame none of you will ever meet her.”
“So, how long have you two…” Dante trails off for a moment, “Known each other?”
“Oh, hm… about… six years now?” You murmur, “Yeah, five or six years. Solid few, I suppose. There, happy?”
“If she’s just a crush, that means you never..?” Gregor raises a brow.
“Dated? No. I… don’t think she feels the same way about me.” You laugh weakly, “Anyways, there! My love life, handed to you on a silver platter. Now, if this is really an ‘asking everyone’ thing… who’s next?”
Rodya giggles, before turning her attention to her seat partner. “Greg?”
“Seriously..?” He says with a sigh, “Okay, okay… had some flings back when I was poster boy for the war, but nothing since then.”
“Anything that stuck out?” You ask.
“Nope. Not like you.” He says with a drag of his cigarette as his gaze flicks to the 9th Sinner. “Now, are you going to go, or make some other poor sap answer the question?”
She merely gives him a coy smile, before reaching over you to poke Sinclair on the cheek. “What about you, kiddo?”
“Me- me..?” He stutters.
“Yep~” Rodya muses, “C’mon! Surely there’s someone you dated.”
“Uh- no…”
“No?” You echo, “Really?”
No Demian and Sinclair yaoi..? Really?
“No… never really had a crush either…” He confesses, shyly looking away.
“Well then…” You sit up, “I’m sure you’ll find a nice partner sometime soon. Be it a girl, boy, or someone else.”
“Uh… yeah.” He squeaks out, “Probably not a boy…”
Oh the Demian x Sinclair truthers are going to be devastated. Surely he kisses men. Maybe he’s just in denial.
“Yep, mhm, whatever you say.” You idly reply, watching him flush. Oh yeah, he’s definitely a boykisser.
“Well then, Rodya.” You look her way, “It’s your turn.”
“Hmm…” She grins slightly, “What do you think my love life’s like?”
“Probably involves that Sonya guy.” Gregor murmurs, causing Rodya to yelp.
“Oh, yep, there’s some romantic tension there. Old stuff, but very real.” You agree with a nod, and Rodya groans.
“Are you two blind? What could possibly have been between us?” She asks, giving you two a scoff. “Anyways, he’s not my type.”
“Then what is your type?” You ask, raising a brow.
“People who actually do things instead of just sitting around saying pretty words.” She answers, probing your temple with a finger. “Kinda like you.”
You give her a look, wondering what she’s possibly getting at. No way in hell is she flirting… right? Who’d flirt with you when you look like this?
“...well, I’m sure you all will find someone to kiss soon.” You quickly add, trying to wrap up the conversation, “You all seem like likeable enough people. There’s definitely people out there who’d put up with your antics, I’m sure.”
“Wait… aren’t you guys going to ask me..?” You and the three Sinners slowly look at them. “...oh, right…”
You chuckle. “Dante, you’re one of the funniest people I’ve met. I mean that as a compliment.”
They nervously laugh. “Thanks… and I’m glad you’re the Sectator I ended up summoning. You’re wonderful.”
“Aw… thanks…” You mumble, sinking into the plush seating of the seat. You glance Sinclair’s way, who looks much more relaxed now, as if he forgot you all are going to the Calw. Then, you look at the string at his head. It’s vibrating more now…
You wonder… what would happen if you touch it again?
And, giving into to your gnawing curiosity, you do just that. And, once more, you’re sent into nothing.
–★★★–
This time, you tumble straight out onto the tile. There’s almost none of the black goop beyond bits that stick to you and a darker stain on the shaded ground.
You look at your claws. More fingernail-like… you’re back in that more human body.
Then, your attention rises to the sky. Painted in streaks of yellow, red, and orange, it looks akin to a gradually darkening oil painting. The top of the sky is a familiar muted blue, and clouds are vibrant splashes of peach. The flaming ball of light that illuminates the world gradually sinks, bit by bit, and you watch it do so.
The streets are barren again, and you’re in the same place you left. An alleyway in the school Sinclair went to. But now, the day has passed.
What do you even do now? Where did you go? Maybe find answers to how this happened? But how would you..?
“Ahem.” You look towards the entrance of your hiding spot, where a familiar figure stands. With what looks like a paper bag in one hand, Demian casually approaches.
“Ah… you.” You mumble, lowering your hands until they rest on the cool tile. “Wondered if I would see you again.” Not entirely a lie, but…
“I brought you a meal.” He tells you, unresponsive to your comment, as he sets the bag down before you. And, hesitantly, you open it.
Inside, you see what looks like a sandwich.
“Not sure what you can and can’t eat… so I estimated based on what little I knew about you.” He tells you, staring down at you with those empty eyes of his…
“...” You meet his gaze, “Why would you do this?”
“...” He’s silent, looking at your forehead once more. “Because I’m curious, to put it simply. I suppose I thought of this as the best excuse to talk to you once more.”
“Why?” You ask.
His gaze focuses slightly, and he crouches down. Even as you reel back, he merely reaches out to push some of your misty hair from your forehead. “...hm. Your’s is more vibrant than any I’ve seen before…”
“My what-?” You sputter out, drawing away.
“Either you’re playing dumb…” He muses, “Or you genuinely can’t see it, despite having it.”
“What are you even talking about..?” You question, scooching away.
“The Sign.” He calmly tells you, standing up methodically. “And you have it.”
You warily eye him. “...Unironically, if you talked about me to anyone else later, you’d still sound like less of a lunatic than you do right now.”
Demian stares at you blankly, and you worry you pissed him off. Then, his lips quirk, and a quiet “Pfft-” escapes his mouth, before he softly laughs.
He can laugh?
He shakes his head, trying to calm himself, and he looks back at you. But his eyes aren’t dull anymore. In fact, they almost seem to be shining. “You’re far funnier than I thought you’d be.”
“...You look uncertain.” You note, “Did I really shatter any expectations you had?”
“Yes.” His answer is immediate, but calm. “You’re something I can’t predict. There’s nothing about you I understand. How is that so?”
“...I wish I knew.” You earnestly tell him, “I really did. But I can’t answer this. I can’t answer many things like this.”
“I know.” He tells you, “You know much but remain ignorant at the same time. Not like an adult… No, more like a wise child.”
You quirk a brow. “I’m not a child.”
“I’m well aware.” He tells you. “Yet you view the world as one.”
He thinks that about your jaded, anxious ass..?
Demian smiles faintly at that, hands casually resting in his pockets. “You should learn to quiet your thoughts.”
Quiet your what.
He chuckles faintly again. “...I’m afraid I need to leave now. I’m not sure if you’ll stay or leave, but I wouldn’t be upset if I saw you again.”
He turns to leave. “I hope I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
“I’m certain I won’t go anywhere.” You tell him.
You can’t see his face, but you think he smiles. “Enjoy your meal.”
“I will.” You’ll try.
And he’s gone by the time you look towards the food again. You pull it from the bag, finding the thing half-wrapped in paper. And there is some writing on this paper. Hamhampangpang… Demian Limbus Company got you Hamhampangpang?
Well, you won’t complain. This is your chance to try it!
So you take a bite. And… Fuck! This is great! You see why Roland was lowkey obsessed with them. This is the best sandwich you had in your life.
You scarf it down, before crawling into a corner and trying to sleep, more than ready to return to what- you think- is the present world. You think sleeping is what brings you back? You still don’t know how this all works… but you won’t get your answers by wandering around. But maybe Demian…
Well, maybe he has answers.
–★★★–
You blink when you come too, realizing the bus has left the city-like parts of the Nest and is now in a blissful looking woodland, illuminated by the sunset. The green of the trees and orange of the light mingle like stars in the night sky.
If anyone noticed you blank out, they don’t comment. Mostly, because they’re focused on the smoke.
Billowing above the trees, a blanket of black and gray blots out the sky. Darkness encroaching on a forest in a blazing, fiery death.
“Sinclair…?” Rodya asks, glancing his way in concern. He’s just staring in horror out the bus window. In fact, almost everyone is.
Not Vergilius, though. He stands at the bus, staring straight ahead. “Charon, turn.”
“Evasive maneuver. Rumble-tumble.” She replies, before sharply turning the wheel as the bus spins to the left. A cacophony of yelps from the Sinners ring out, and you groan as you’re sent flying into Dante who’s squished against the window.
Then a window shatters as a nail comes flying through, digging itself into one of the empty seats in the back.
“Wha… Who the hell was that?! I almost kicked it!” Heathcliff snaps, sitting right before the seat with the nail in it. He grabs it, holding the bloody thing in his hands with a grimace.
“Hmm… Though I hadn’t run a test with a projectile at such velocity, this does suggest that the windows need to be reinforced a little.” Faust notes, casually examining the glass.
“Was that… the only nail?” You ask, disliking the scent of smoke sneaking into the bus.
“As of now, yes.” Faust tells you, causing you to sigh with relief. Orbi will be fine… Thank god.
“That was aimed directly at us.” Outis says with a sneer, “They must be the faction the Before Team warned us about… The Employees of N Corp.”
“Verg, Mephi got hurt. Charon’s sad.” The driver of the bus laments.
“Doesn’t look like they’ll stop anytime soon.” The Red Gaze mutters, “Off the bus, all.”
When you get up, you rummage around for the small medkit you carry around thanks to your little knack for being beaten to a pulp regularly, and pull out a bandaid to place on the cracked glass that remains of the window.
Charon gives you an approving nod because of this, but you’re ushered off before you can say anything else.
The ground beneath your feet is soft, and the forest is hot as waves of heat fly off the flames. It blazes orange and is dark at the same time, and smells like iron and blood and smoke. And before you, clad head to toe in faded white garments, are the N Corp. Inquisitors.
“Halt. You may not use this road.” One says, stepping out of the group to approach the one you belong to.
“You should’ve said so in the first place, ‘cause what about our windshield? Ah, bugger…” Gregor mumbles, scowling.
“You’re rather rude for someone who attacked without warning.” Outis tells them, “Isn’t it at least common courtesy to state your affiliations?”
“We are Inquisitors. We are the nail that fixes the blasphemous, and the hammer that strikes down the sinful.” They announce, ignoring the two Sinners who spoke.
“So, N Corp… That’s one convoluted way to tell someone that you’re an employee of Nagel und Hammer.” Ishmael says bitterly.
Faust nods slightly. “…Also known as ‘Nail and Hammer’.”
“You shall not proceed as we are in the midst of cleansing heretical dissidents.” The Inquisitor tells you all.
“Heretics? Hey now, we just want to pass through, not looking for any trouble. We’re on the, uh…” Gregor trails off, eyes scanning the crowd of varying people. “A tour…! That’s right, and this is a tour bus.”
Everyone slowly looks at Gregor in silence, then amongst one another. “......”
Gregor doesn’t look back, trying to give the Inquisitors a harmless smile.
Rodya pokes him on the shoulder, gently. “Greg, I’ve been thunkin’ this since the job at the mine, but… are you that into these kinds of bits…?”
His smile quivers. “That’s not exactly it…”
The Inquisitor, appearing to be unphased, doesn’t move. Nor do the ones behind them. “In that case, you shall prove yourselves to be untainted.”
Gregor sighs. “Fine, tell us how so we can get on with it.”
The Inquisitor, with a methodical but swift movement, points at Dante. “Behead that blasphemous traveler.”
“M… Me?!” Dante yelps, taking a step back as you move between them and the Inquisitor’s, your blades clashing once as a warning and Yuri’s blade hissing to life as you draw it.
“And kneel before our hammer as you consecrate their head to us.” The Inquisitor continues, unphased by the startled reaction from a majority of the Sinners and your defensive one, “Such will prove that you are untainted ones, and your journey shall continue without hindrance. You will, of course, have to part with the defiled vehicle as well.”
“Love to spew on, don’t you blokes?” Heathcliff asks, raising his bat. “Oi, I don’t know who you think we are, but do we look daft enough to do as you say?”
Dante seems to smile, flattered one of the Sinners is willing to defend them like this. “Heathcliff… You didn’t have to…”
“Proper trifling twits, tch. Who are you telling me to kneel?”
The Inquisitor simply nods, and you care to let them finish speaking. “Understood. Then I declare all of you to be he-”
The Blades move before they’re done. With a single point, their head is cleaved off in a swift but clean slash. Their corpse falls to the ground, head taking a second to follow, and you raise Yuri’s weapon.
“[N- [Name]?”
“I have two jobs.” You say, “Find your head, and keep you alive. And if I need to get blood on my hands to achieve it…”
You stare at the corpse, Inquisitors all around moving to attack. You despise violence… and yet…
“So be it.”
—
You’re the first one back on the bus, stumbling back on as Vergilius simply raises a hand in greeting, idly watching you move to a seat and the others that follow. “Weren’t they a little trickier to deal with than your usual foes?”
“I keep saying we could be done with ‘em a lot faster if you lent a hand~” A bloody Rodya tells him with a bitter smile.
“And as I always answer, there won’t be any point to this if I help you.” He reminds her, unbothered.
“Those people… They labelled us as heretics. Just what is their judgement based on?” Ishmael asks, grimacing.
“I think they were targeting me.” Dante murmurs.
“Isn’t it obvious?” You ask, head tilting down, “They’re after prosthetics.”
“Prosthetics..?”
“Nagel und Hammer… The Wing that values experience above all else.” Meursault vaguely adds, and you sigh.
“Experience?”
“Humans are made to have experiences and actions appropriate for their worth… That is what they say of it.” He simply explains.
“They told us to offer up the severed head of our manager.” Outis mumbles, “That means the Assistant Manager is correct, and…”
“…They’re back.” Sinclair chokes, tears streaming down his cheeks, “They didn’t forget. Coming back like that, to-”
Shit. “Sinny… c’mere.”
You stand up, pulling him into your arms and returning to the seat. He doesn’t resist, merely crying into your chest as he quivers in terror. He’s quiet and cold, and his hands are balling up bits of your jacket. But at least he knows you’re there.
Rodya gives you a slight nod of approval. No one else seems to bother to be looking.
“Verg-verg, the sound box is being noisy.” Charon pipes up, gesturing at the sound box on the dashboard with a nod.
“…Looks like the advance team has words for us.” He murmurs in response, standing up and pressing a button.
It frizzles, and you hear Efflie. “This is… Pzzz… Zzzt pzzzt… Saude is… Pzzz…”
“Effie?!” You yelp, hearing panic in his voice.
“Gimme that.” Gregor tells Vergilius, fussing with the thing himself, “Effie, this is the bus. How are things over there?”
The voice that comes out isn’t Effie’s. Just a mockery of it. “‘…You shall bear here your every sin and be purified..”
“Effie?” Gregor asks, before looking back at the others. His stunned expression meets your horrified gaze, and all he can do is look and stare blankly at the sound box.
“Was that… Effie’s voice? Or something else?” Ishmael asks, before grimacing, “No, actually… Was that even a human voice at all?”
“Whistles…” Sinclair chokes, slowly pulling his head out of your chest. Snot and tears stain his face, and his cheeks are red.
“Sinclair, what are you talking about?” Rodya asks, concerned.
“You heard the whistles! Right at the end… Faintly…” He trails off, eyes blanking slightly.
“Was there now…?” Gregor asks, uncertain.
“It’s her! That wretch is there!” He cries out, voice rising, “After all this time… To destroy the rest of our town…”
“Calm down, Sinclair. What do you mean by whistles, and who is this ‘wretched’ woman?”
“Kromer…” You mumble. “Her name is Kromer.”
“And how do you know this information?” Outis skeptically asks.
“He told me..?” You reply, “How else?”
She sputters for a reply, before Sinclair howls. “She’s waiting for me. That was a message calling for me!”
He rambles borderline nonsensical things, and Ishmael takes a sharp breath, looking out the windshield.
“Hang on, there are people like the ones we met on the road up ahead…”
“We should go back…” Sinclair murmurs weakly.
“What?” Dante asks, startled.
“Can’t we… just head back? I don’t wanna go-” He smiles desperately, “Let’s just turn around. Just tip the steering wheel and…”
“Kiddo… What’s wrong? What’re you so worried you’ll walk into?” Rodya asks, approaching.
“We shouldn’t go. We’ll all die- we need to go back.”
“Emil Sinclair. Don’t be absurd…” Vergilius warns, standing up slowly.
Then Outis storms over. “Assistant Manager, hand me him.”
You barely react as she tugs Sinclair out of your arms, slapping him in the stomach. He chokes as he slouches over, unconscious.
She calmly shakes off her hand as she returns him to you. “I delivered a light blow to the stomach to knock him unconscious for a short while, nothing more. There is no need to be concerned.”
You glower at her, but don’t say anything.
“We’re in agreement for once, it seems. I was this close to stepping in.” Vergilius murmurs.
“I don’t need cowards on my battlefield. Can’t I throw him out of the bus?”
“No.” You coldly say as Dante shakes their head. “That… might be a bit too far.”
Outis scowls at Sinclair’s comatose state. “…If you say so, Manager.”
“I’ll… stay on the bus with him.” You decide, “While the fighting inevitably goes on. I’ll bring him out when he comes too.”
Vergilius nods slightly, before ordering the others off the bus. You just look at the trembling string, and go back to the past with nary a second thought.
–★★★–
According to Demian, he’s known you for almost a month. But you weren’t here for two days. False memories, perhaps..? But…
But your main focus right now was on the “friend” Demian said he wanted to introduce you to. You had a solid guess who it was, but still…
He merely stood at the entrance to the alley, and you waited in the back, awaiting whoever would come.
You sit up when Demian moves, giving a nod to whoever is approaching. The sun was high in the sky, but you were still mostly hidden, no one bothering to glance your way. But now, Demian would show you to a new person, and you didn’t move as they entered your field of view.
Sinclair…
His smile is nervous, shy, as he speaks to Demian with soft words. You can’t hear what the two say, but Demian nods in your direction and Sinclair looks.
Almost immediately, he pales. You give him a slight wave, and Demian nudges him forward. He stumbles, before slowly approaching.
“Nervous?” You call out, causing him to flinch, “Ha… don’t worry. My teeth may look sharp, but I don’t bite.”
“Are you… sure?” He asks, stopping a couple meters away from you.
“Why would I bother to bite you anyways?” You ask, rising to your feet as you flutter your wings. “I look weird, sure, but I’m not dangerous. What’s your name?”
“Don’t you… know?” He asks nervously.
“No, because someone didn’t tell me.” You say, giving Demian a look. He merely gives you a slight smile in response.
“I’m… Sinclair.” He stutters out, “You’re… [Name], right?”
“Mhm.” You say with a nod, offering your hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Uhm… nice to meet you too…” He says, slowly approaching to take your hand. His are warm, soft, almost like touching a baby chick. He stares at your hand when he eventually pulls away, fingers lightly gliding over your claws as he does so.
“So, how long have you known Demian?” You ask, angling your head to look down at him.
“Oh… a while… and you?” He asks.
“A month, give or take a few days.” You confess(?). This entire situation is strange. “Though… our interactions are moreso just conversations as I hide in this alleyway.”
“Which is enough, I believe.” Demian cooly adds.
“This is where you have been living?” He asks, looking around you. “There’s not even a bed…”
“Floor is comfy enough.” You answer, “Why? Is it hard to imagine someone with nothing?”
“I…” He trails off, “Is it because of your..?”
“Appearance? Yeah…” You confess, “Let’s just say… no one really takes it well. But so be it.”
He stares at you silently, looking confused.
Then you hear her. At first, a faint whistle, and then…
“Oh Sinclair~!”
You flinch, instinctively moving him behind you, staring out at wherever she’ll come. You don’t have your blades- hell, you don’t have a single weapon! Maybe you can scratch her..? But…
And you glare as Kromer rounds a corner and comes into view, idly peering around.
“I saw you come over here, and I wanted to see what you were up to!”
“[Name], what are you?” Sinclair asks, peering out from behind you. “Oh… that’s just Kromer! You can relax, she’s one of my friends…”
“Friends?” You ask, looking back at him.
Then, Kromer looks right your way. “Oh! There you are! What are you doing in…”
And when she sees you, she trails off. Grey eyes widen, body stills. And then, she approaches. You draw back as she does, Sinclair trying to ease you and Demian being silent.
Her hands grip your cheeks, thumbs trailing down your cheekbones to your chin, eyes sparkling in awe as her mouth contorts to a slight grin.
You grab her wrists, moving her hands away, glancing away from her. “Sinclair, why are all your friends wackos?”
“Eh?” Sinclair sputters out, and Kromer giggles.
“I mean, he’s wack in the head,” You gesture at Demian, who smiles faintly, “She’s very wack, clearly,” You say with a gesture to Kromer, who looks weirdly flattered, “And we just met, but if you consider me a friend, I’m also very wack. Because I look like this.”
“I- well…” Sinclair sighs, before giving you a sheepish look.
“...Have you ever left the alleyway?” His voice is shy, quiet, as if he thought about a lot of things all at once and doesn’t know what question to pick, so just threw one out.
The question catches you off guard. “I- well…”
“No.” Demian answers for you.
“Well, you shouldn’t just stay here!” Kromer tells you, taking your hands in hers. Can she comprehend personal space? “Why don’t you come with me? I was just about to invite Sinclair for ice cream!”
“Ice cream..?” You murmur, as Sinclair also seems startled. “Uh- sure? But… I’d like Demian to come too. He’s the only one out of you three I… know. And-! And lemme find something to cover myself up, so I don’t… well… freak people out.”
“No.” Kromer says immediately, before flashing you a sweet grin, “I mean… I’m sure no one will be that bothered, right?”
You give her a blank look. “...Are you potentially blind?”
“I mean… you do… kind of look human…” Sinclair admits.
“I wouldn’t mind ice cream.” Demian adds. “And it’s alright, [Name]. Showing yourself to the world won’t hurt anyone.”
“...” With a sigh, you nod, “Fine, ice cream it is. But I’m not paying! Not that I… have money to pay with anyways.”
Kromer laughs, spouting a meaningless compliment at you, before dragging you out. The sun blinds you for a moment, but Demian’s hand on your shoulder helps steady you, and off the three you go to get ice cream.
—
“I really think I should’ve hid myself…” You mumble, tail coiling around the legs of your chair as you glance at another passerby who stares at you. Why do they stare at you when most of them look like robots or cyborgs? Why are you the different one?
“Oh, don’t care about them!” Kromer tells you, stirring her milkshake with the straw. “They must just be jealous, I think.”
“Jealous of what?” Sinclair asks, curious. He looks up from his own ice cream, a cacophony of rainbow scoops you aren’t entirely certain of the origins of.
“Humans are often jealous of many things.” Demian murmurs, taking a bite of his vanilla.
You look at yours. “What’s there to be jealous of? I have wings that can’t fly and stupid oversized horns that get caught on doorways.”
“But you have pretty eyes!” Kromer tells you, “Say… are both of them natural?”
“As natural as my body is.” You reply. To say, not at all.
She smiles, satisfied with that answer. “Say, we should do this more!”
“We?” You ask, curious.
“All… four of us.” Kromer explains, “I mean, this is fun, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Sinclair quietly agrees. “I’d like to do this again…”
“Really?” You ask, stunned. Say… when was the last time you got ice cream? You say it was with…
With… Elena and the others.
…
You hope they’re okay.
“Okay! So how does tomorrow sound?” Kromer asks with a grin. “Sinclair, [Name], me… and Demian.”
You don’t miss the tension these two seem to have, as Kromer gives Demian a very strained smile.
“...why not?” You muse. “If I’m still around by that point, anyways.”
“Great, it’s a date then.” She says with a smile.
“Date…” You murmur, before returning to your treat. It’s starting to melt.
—
You have never been more relieved to see someone leave when Kromer waved you farewell and left. Then, Demian was soon to follow. Soon enough, it was just you and Sinclair standing before the alleyway you hid in while here.
“So… uh… this is goodbye.” He murmurs softly, having avoided looking at you.
“...are you scared of how I look?” You ask.
“No!” He quickly yelps, “Well… not entirely.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t blame you. You aren’t alone in thinking I look like a freak.”
“I…” He trails off, “You aren’t…”
“It’s alright. Really.” You ruffle his hair slightly. “I don’t mind at all, Sinny.”
“Sin…ny..?”
“Yeah. You’re a cute guy, you deserve a cute nickname.” You chuckle when his face flushes. “...bye, Sinny. See you around.”
You start to head in, before pausing. “And… don’t trust her.”
Sinclair pauses. “What..?”
“Kromer. Don’t trust her.” You warn him, “It’s not really in my place to say this as someone you just met… but there’s something wrong with her. Her eyes are… empty, and her smile seems faked. There’s just… something about her makes me feel off. Please just… be careful.”
Sinclair doesn’t respond, just blinking at you, before quickly nodding. “Uhm- Goodbye.”
“Bye.” You watch him go, before sighing and returning to rest on the ground. No answers… Maybe here isn’t the best place to look.
You don’t plan to come back.
–★★★–
You blink, taking in the orange light of the setting sun and flames, and angle your head to stare out the window. Sinclair comes too soon after that, staring out alongside you with a vacant look.
“...they’re out fighting.” You murmur. He makes a noise of acknowledgement.
“...you were right.”
“Hm?” You look down at him, “About what?”
“Her.” He hisses, “I don’t know how, but… I didn’t remember your words until now. You warned me, and I ignored you. I… I wish I didn’t.”
What did you..? “Hey, hey… it’s not your fault.”
“...if it’s really true that this is your first job… how did I meet you?” He asks.
You sigh. “I… think there’s some amnesia involved in this. On both our parts.”
Either that, or…
“...” Sinclair is silent.
“If you aren’t ready to fight, you can stay here. I don’t mind.”
It seems to dawn on him he’s sitting in your lap when his face flushes. “I’m… sorry. I’ll go join them.”
“You sure?” You ask, giving him a concerned look.
“I can’t keep dragging others down.” Is all he says. “I… I can’t keep failing you.”
“But you never…” But he’s already pushed himself off you, grabbed his halberd, and left.
Vergilius just sits up with a sigh, warily eyeing you. You just shake your head, and look out the window.
“You have a lot to explain.” He tells you.
“I can’t explain what I don’t understand.” You reply. He just hums in response and doesn’t say anything more.
—
The smoke is even worse in town. Any light from the sun is blotted out. All that remains is the light from the bus interior… and the fire. The blazing, undying fire.
“Ugh… What a mess this is, huh.” Ishmael mutters, staring out the window at the empty, burning buildings and remains of… metallic bodies. “By the way… Don’t you hear a familiar song from somewhere?”
Your ears perk up, and you swear you hear… Christmas music? Oh god.
“Oh, yeah, I know this one. Used to hear this tune an awful lot on snowy days…” Heathcliff mutters.
Gregor grimaces. “They played it a bunch during wartime to raise our spirits. Did the exact opposite for me.”
Everyone else mutters how the tune’s familiar to them, even Dante has some recognition in their non-existent expression. But Sinclair… he has the most familiarity of all.
“Right… That day…” He hollowly mumbles, “It was snowy like this… and that song was playing…”
When everyone is finally ushered off the bus for a final time, the air is heavy. Moral is low and everyone is at the very least uneasy. And it doesn’t help when you come across “Christmas” trees.
Towering, dark, and one of the only things not burning. They’re covered in organs and mechanical pieces, remnants of the people of the Calw torn to bits and then strung up for all to see. Or, specifically for Sinclair to see.
“Bleck… Isn’t this going too far?” Rodya asks, eyes widening in horror when she sees the piles of dead corpses.
“A classic… but, more kitschy than anything.” Ryōshū hums, looking rather indifferent to the trees.
“…There are no survivors nearby.” Meursault notes.
You place a hand on Sinclair’s shoulder, as he shakes and looks ill. Compared to what you just saw of a peaceful Calw… it’s like you walked straight into hell.
Then, a sharp hiss and ring of a loudspeaker rings out, causing you and the Sinners to cover their ears.
“Ah~ Ahh~! Mic test, mic test!!” Kromer’s loud, cheerful voice rings out. It’s nothing like the false, overly sweet tone she used on you. No. It’s the voice of someone taking glee in this. “Enjoying your Noel, everyone? The night isn’t really silent, but it sure is holy.”
“…?” Dante warily glances around, “Isn’t Christmas still a fair way off?”
“You’re right, it’s not any time soon.” Ishmael agrees.
“My name is Kromer. I’m a humanitarian who loves purity, and the one who grips the hammer.” She continues over the speaker, “I don’t know how you managed to get here, but you’re trespassing on private property. As you can see… this hallowed ground is undergoing our nailing judgement. I hope you like the decorations I set up!”
“Well, let’s just say that you got lost… Turn back now and a fine will be all you have to pay. I’m feeling generous… Today is the Nativity after all! Oh, before that. Is Guido there?”
“Here I stand.” A towering, masked man announces in an empty voice, almost like Meursault’s. He stands a fair distance, and you’re tired of hearing her speak.
“Good. Just in case, do you see any heretics over-”
“God, YOU NEVER SHUT UP!” You snap out, feeling your tail thump the ground in anger. “You killed so many people- HOW COULD YOU KILL SO MANY PEOPLE?!”
You stand there, chest heaving, realizing everyone is staring at you. But Kromer is silent, and that’s what you’re relieved of.
“...Guido, describe who just spoke.” She suddenly says, much to your discomfort.
“A being with red skin and large horns, and wings that cannot fly.” He says, and you and everyone else are paralyzed by his analytic glare. “And with them, an impure one and their followers. And… the child you spoke of.”
Kromer is silent, before a small wheeze escapes the speakers, and then her bellowing laughter. “Hahahah!! Really? My Sinclair is back? And with him, my sweet, pathetic [Name]?”
“...how does she..?” Dante starts to ask.
“Okay so, apparently I was wrong when I said this was my first time here..?” You quickly confess, any anger in your tone thanks to Kromer dying at the Manager’s question, “There’s some sort of amnesia involved but… I’ve been here before..? I think?”
“And I don’t know how or why- but we met. And I don’t like that's apparently a fact.” You place your hand on Dante’s shoulders and lean in close, “I want her in a ditch with broken legs, Dante.”
“What did she even do..?” They ask, causing you to take a sharp breath and step back, spreading out your arms.
“Dante, Dante, my dear Dante… LOOK AROUND YOU!! LOOK AT THE TREES, THE PILES OF CORPSES, THAT FUCK!! WE’RE DEALING WITH A GENOCIDAL MANIAC, DANTE!!!”
“And the worst part is… SHE TRAUMATIZED HIM!” You gesture at Sinclair, who flinches, almost snapping out of his rage, “HOW COULD ANYONE DO THAT?! DO THAT TO HIM!?”
“When did you get so protective of him..?” Gregor asks.
“Since I realized how much of a little guy he was!” You snap back. “And when I realized she deadass is committing genocide!!”
“HAHAHAHA~!!” Kromer cackles, “Oh, where was this spirit when we met? If only… HA!”
“KILL YOURSELF!!” You screech at her, and she only cackles in response.
“Oh! Sinclair~ Take [Name] with you to that familiar spot. They won’t know where it is. I’ll be waiting!”
“Gr…hrrrkh… Kro…mer…” Sinclair grinds his teeth, making an inhuman noise of hatred and fear all at once.
“Take out the rest, Guido. Or should I myself? I wouldn’t mind.”
“I urge you to focus on hammering the impure, O One Who Grips.” Guido simply responds.
“Hahahahaha! Good, good!! Let’s keep up the purification!” Kromer giggles, “It’s been too long since I’ve last seen you, [Name]. Oh how I can’t wait to see you once more! Remember, Sinclair, bring them right to me! Now then, everyone. Merry Christmas!”
The speakers fizz as they turn off, and a number of Inquisitors gather around Guido. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to. The aura of hostility around him is as intimidating as is.
You grit your teeth as you raise your weapons. You want him, and her, and every single Inquisitor dead.
Hm… this isn’t like you.
…
…what’s… happening to you?
Please, do me a favor. Don’t let this hate be what guides you. You’re better than that, and you and I both know that.
…
–★★★–
The metal rings and the flesh squishes as you stab it, twisting the Blades inside Guido in an attempt to down him long-term. Will it work? You don’t know, this man seems to regularly flip off death.
“…That was a tough opponent. We should move before they come back to their senses.” Ishmael warns, looking around at the horde of Inquisitors, some somehow still alive.
“What a shameful thing to say. A soldier does not retreat before the enemy when victory is in sight.” Outis snaps back, scoffing.
“Can’t you save the military drill for a better time?” Ishmael asks.
“Ishmael is right. That’s not someone we can beat easily.” Dante adds.
“I want to save my energy for the maniac.” You add, wings twitching.
“You… alright? You look mad…” Dante murmurs, concerned.
“My anger at her cannot be said in words.” You admit, shaking your head. “I just really hate her.”
“…We will fall back.” Outis relents, and everyone retreats down further into the town.
You peer around for any more Inquisitors, only seeing corpses. You grimace, and hear Dante speak.
“Sinclair, do you know what that Kromer meant by ‘that familiar spot’?” They ask, as Sinclair merely shakes in response, continuing to grind his teeth and try to hold back tears.
“That’s… well…”
“You need to talk, Sinclair.” Dante says, approaching. Sinclair merely flinches back, “Tell us what you know, and you’ll prevent half the deaths we might suffer.”
“It’ll also raise the likelihood of our success. I’m looking forward to hearing something useful.” Outis adds.
Sinclair grimaces, mouth quivering as he wipes the tears from his eyes. He glances your way, and you nod. And, he takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and lets out a croak. “…My house. That’s where Kromer must be.”
“So, you know that bird?” Heathcliff asks, raising a brow, “Bollocks, my head is still pounding thanks to her shrill laugh.”
“…I met her at school.” Sinclair adds.
“Oh yeah, [Name] mentioned her earlier…” Rodya murmurs, “Oh boy, she’s a friend of yours? Whatever’s going on, sure hope you can talk it out…”
Sinclair gives Rodya a horrified look. “She’s not my friend. Kromer killed my family.”
Rodya silently covers her mouth, horrified, before grinning sheepishly. “My bad.”
A buzzing sound causes you to look over, seeing a prosthetic head hanging from a tree. Lights and sparks flicker within it, and soon others come to notice it.
“Sin…cl…a…ir… Bzt… Pzzt…” They stutter out, “Why… did you… return…”
Sinclair just stares at them in silent horror, unmoving outside of slight shaking.
“…Sinclair, are those your neighbors?” Rodya quietly asks.
“It looks like they were… I really hope that isn’t the case, though…” Sinclair mumbles, swallowing a lump in his throat. He quickly looks away, only to freeze once again. You follow where he looks, and see… Oh.
It’s the ice cream parlor Kromer took you two to with Demian… but now…
Right where the four of you once sat is four dead corpses placed in positions you once had. Empty cups for ice cream as a mockery of that day. “Welcome home, Sinclair.” Kromer must’ve thought when she left this… “And welcome back, [Name].”
“...” You sigh, “Don’t let her ruin ice cream.”
Sinclair quietly looks at you as you continue. “Don’t let her ruin something as great as ice cream. Tomorrow, what do you say about us going to get some? Just you and me, so one experience with her doesn’t ruin the thing forever.”
He thinks, gritting his teeth, before nodding. “Yes. Yes, I want… I want to get ice cream with you. P- please.”
You smile. “Great. I’ll see if I can find a nice little place.”
Sinclair nods, and you both tense when a song starts to play. Silent Night..?
And it’s coming from the heads on trees and vocal pieces scattered around on the ground. …she really ruins everything.
“It’s clearer than ever now…” Ishmael mumbles “[Name] was right. Prosthetic body parts are ‘heresy’ to them.”
You just take and hold Sinclair’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back, but he’s grinding his teeth again.
“Though it has been quite a while since prostheses were first introduced to the City…” Faust says, “Many people still find them foreign and alienating.”
“…Our town.” Sinclair speaks up. “Our town was called… ‘The Holy Site of Nest K’s Prosthetic Industry’. Most of the residents worked in manufacturing high-end prosthesis components.” He grimaces, “Kromer has been keeping an eye on our town for a long time.”
Gregor frowns. “So, was your family…”
“Yeah, my father was the owner of a fledgling prosthetics company too. Is that why…”
“No.” Ishmael pipes up. “The way I see it, attributing it to a high-flown cause of any kind is giving them too much credit. They’re… just lunatics, consumed by madness and violence.”
“People like to justify shitty actions.” You add, “They like to take a ‘greater than thou’ sorta worldview. Kromer’s just like that. ‘Humans without prosthetics are greater than those with them. Thus, those with prosthetics are heretics and must die.’”
“And the worst part? It always leads to them hurting innocents. Every time.” You slowly let go of his hand, looking up at the smoking sky.
Sinclair silently stares at you, the Christmas music almost a mockery of this nightmare, before he turns to Dante.
“Manager, I have a question if it’s alright with you.”
“What is it?”
“Well… How does it feel?”
”Feel?”
“Yeah. I mean, how does it feel to have a prosthetic replacement for your head?”
Dante flinches, taken aback. ”Uhm… That’s…”
Sinclair blinks, seeming to realize how strange his question was. Especially with how he phrased it. “Oh! It’s- um… I’m not trying to argue with you or anything. T- That was probably rude of me. I apologize.”
”No need, it’s alright.” Dante says with a calm shake of their head. ”I’m afraid I can’t answer that… I don’t remember a single thing about my life before this clock.”
“I see…” Sinclair murmurs, “I’ve always wondered what it feels like when there’s something sitting where your head should be… My family said it’s no different from wearing a hat or a watch… But I just couldn’t picture it well no matter how I approached it.” His gaze becomes downcast, “And now, I’m the only survivor thanks to that.”
Dante nods, understanding. ”I’m sure the procedure seemed terrifying at such a young age. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”
But they don’t understand the right thing.
“That’s not it…” Sinclair says with a pained look, “It’s nothing like that… I’m afraid I’m not as innocent as you might think, Dante…”
He quietly hangs his head, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. You look at him, and you have a solid guess he’s staring at your clock-eye. The one you don’t even know if it’s natural or artificial. You wonder if you’ll ever know.
And the singing comes to an end, and all you hear is the crackling of fire.
–★★★–
Compared to the trees and small piles of corpses, this is a trash heap of them. Some were even still alive, letting out pained noises that gnaw at your mind.
What really haunts you, though, is how the Inquisitors don’t care, instead stabbing these people with nails. In the head, the chest… everywhere.
“I’ve surely pierced their heart, yet still a pulse remains in their body.” One Inquisitor says.
“It must be patched with steel. Even the core of their humanity has been tainted by heresy.” Another notes. “How filthy. A disgrace to flesh and bone.”
You watch them pour a liquid of sorts over the person, the scent of oil clawing at your nostrils. Oh god.
Dante turns your head away as you hear the Inquisitors preach.
“Imbibe the oil of humanity, ye heretical soma.”
“Those who cannot return to the earth, find solace in scattering to smoke.”
You know from the sudden crackle a lit match was thrown onto the flames. You glance back, to see the pile of people- innocents in your eyes- being burned to crisps of metal. But there’s another smell. One you aren’t entirely familiar with.
Burning flesh.
“If this hellscape is their idea of purification, I’d rather stay unclean.” Ishmael murmurs.
“Nagel und Hammer has always been devoted to scrutinizing the idea of humanity.” Meursault explains, unphased, “Some criticized prosthetic use, as they believed that pain is a necessary component of the human experience. However, it never escalated to the extent of direct action that we are witnessing now.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask… How do you know so much about N Corp?” Gregor asks, raising a brow.
Meursault is quiet for a moment. “…I was once employed by N Corp.”
You take in a sharp breath, but don’t comment. You just give Ryōshū a disgusted look when you see her use one of the burning bodies to light a cigarette. She merely gives you a disinterested shrug in response, taking a deep drag of the thing.
“Wha…? You used to work with those people?” Gregor sputters, startled.
“I have never worked with those specific individuals, but in terms of affiliation, you can say that I did.” Meursault answers.
“Why didn’t you tell us that earlier? You carry one of those freaky weapons then?” Gregor asks.
“Am I obligated to elaborate?” Meursault dryly asks.
You quietly look over at him, and he looks at you. Neither say anything, because Heathcliff pipes up.
“The hell… Why don’t you explain what makes you different from those nutters, then?” He asks, getting up close and personal with Meursault, “Listen, mate… As much as I like to call our daft manager clockface, I don’t think they deserve by any means to be on the stake or chopping block. Those buggers talk big about purifying and all that, but all I see are a bunch of loonies who just needed an excuse to kill, eh?”
He jabs Meursault’s chest, who doesn’t even blink. “Speak up, then. Are you like those screwloose bucketheads?”
“There was a time when I thought about such things.” Meursault says, “Though I did not come to a conclusion.”
“I want that damn conclusion now! Are you gonna up and butcher all the townsfolk if your manager just says so?” Heathcliff snaps.
“Must I give an answer? That does not aid us in handling our work.” Meursault asks.
“Please.” You quietly request, and Meursault merely nods.
“An employee must follow their employer’s orders. The terms Vergilius presented state as much.” He explains, “If the manager or assistant manager orders me to do such a thing, I will do it. I may provide my input if I am told that it is necessary, but I do not have a habit of rambling my thoughts unprompted.”
Heathcliff scowls. “…Pardon? Are you ‘round the twist? Do you got a chunk of metal for your brains like the folks here?”
“I am 16% proteins, 60% water, 7% minerals, and so forth; I am clearly different in terms of composition.” Meursault cooly answers, “Moreover, unnecessary heavy metals do not comprise any portion of my body. That is another difference.”
Heathcliff’s face is one of unbridled rage. “How in the bloody hell do they make more sense than you do?!” He asks, pointing at you.
“Now that you mention it, there’s something I’ve been wondering.” Hong Lu speaks up, curious. “I’ve been thinking on whether Manager Dante should be seen as a ‘human’.”
Almost everyone gives Hong Lu a blank look.
“What do you mean?” Outis asks, defensive.
“What if…” Hong Lu hums, giving Dante a slight smile, “When dear Dante is speaking… it’s actually the clock and not the person we know as ‘Dante’ behind those words?”
“Eh? You trying to tell me we were being led by an actual clock?” Heathcliff asks, bewildered.
“Good grief…” Ishmael sighs, “You’re reaching uncharted depths of idiocy with your theories. I can’t even be bothered to refute them.”
“Don’t misunderstand, I do like our Dante with their clock-headedness.” Hong Lu chipperly says.
“Honestly, same. Why don’t you just give up finding your old head and stick with that one?” Rodya asks, “I know it’s prob not gonna be the case, but what if Dante’s real head turned out to be super evil or something?”
“...did you forget one of my two jobs is finding their head?” You ask, raising a brow. “I kinda need to do it to go home..?”
Gregor speaks before Rodya has a chance to respond, swiftly changing the topic. “Well, there’s only one of us who’d know about our manager bud’s past…”
And he looks to Faust.
She merely hums in response. “…That’s confidential information. Its access is restricted to the highest security level.”
“…And I get the feeling I won’t be able to read it for myself.” Dante says with a dismayed look.
You sigh. “No answers are this easy.”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll mount this thing on the wall if I find my real head.” Dante jokingly says.
You smile. “Maybe mount a picture of me by it, if you enjoyed me working for you.”
“Yeah…” Dante says quietly, “...but maybe-”
“Okay, what should we do now?” Ishmael quickly pipes up, “If we move quietly, we might be able to pass by the other Inquisitors unnoticed.”
Heathcliff then proceeds to be the opposite. Lovely man, you see why Catherine loves him.
“Dante… I… I’d like to apologize in advance.” Sinclair chokes out, “As you know… I’m not as experienced with fighting like the others… Our foes might jab me in the heart over and over for that… Will you… bear that for me?”
He looks so pathetic and small, you love him.
“Are you scared, Sinclair?” Dante asks, curious.
“…!” Sinclair flinches, giving Dante a wide-eyed look.
“Hmm? Did I say something weird?”
“No, it’s just… I was reminded of a friend who asked me the same question.” He confesses, glancing your way. Demian. You nod, understanding who he’s referring to, and Sinclair takes a deep breath.
“…I agree with what Heathcliff said. Prosthetic head or not, you would’ve been the same person regardless, Dante.” He glances away, “I guess the same could be said for my family.”
“Thanks, Sinclair.”
“Not really my conversation to join in on…” You murmur, “But… I’m glad you’re doing better, Sinny. I really am.”
“…Hoo.” Sinclair lets out a faint laugh. “Thank you, [Name]. And… Dante. It’s nothing. I can’t have you be too thankful when I’m about to make you suffer by throwing my life away. Haha.”
Dante raises a hand, but Sinclair already is charging into the fray.
“Ha… look at him, growing up.” You murmur with a smile.
“Mhm…” They agree, “Can’t wait to see Orbi do the same.”
“What? Have an epiphany?” You tease, “Dante, cats can’t do that.”
“Who says they can’t?” They ask back, giving you a tilt of their head.
You just roll your eyes. “Oh, c’mon you dork. We got foes to fight. Playful banter can wait.”
You take their hand and lead them into the fray. Sinclair’s grown, you feel more at home with the Sinners, your new abilities involving time travel could potentially be a key home, you have a cat, and Effie and Saude will both be okay. This Canto’s going to be wonderful.
You always have had a lot of hope…
You just want to be like her.
But that’s not you, [Name].
Oh Carmen… there is no “you”. Just a person who wants to be enough.
–★★★–
You stand before the blazing mansion in awe. It’s huge… dwarfing any house you’ve seen before. Towering, but without the flames it wouldn’t be imposing. You wonder if you were still in that past… Would Sinclair invite you to visit his home? Would he consider you a friend on that level? Are you even his friend?
You glance at him, his expression one of rage and fear. Maybe you’re just a source of comfort. And that is good enough.
Are you sure?
…you want to be.
“This is… awful, to say the least…” Ishmael whispers, and you also can just stare. In the courtyard, once full of life, is now crowded in giant, towering nails. Upon which people were erected and impaled for all to see.
“The graves, they’re… dug up…?”
Sinclair’s voice drags everyone's attention, to see three graves violated, with what you can only presume are their inhabitants left pierced by the flat-headed spikes. And Sinclair’s horrified, enraged expression was all the confirmation you needed to the identity of these victims.
Following his gaze, I could see three graves that were violated.
“…To execute the dead- this is nothing short of a devil’s work.” Yi Sang softly utters, gripping his blade tightly.
A soft whistling coaxes you to look away from the sight, and to a certain woman who strides out of the blazing building with confident steps.
“Halt… One Uniform, straight ahead.” Outis warns, raising a hand.
“That whistling…” Sinclair whispers, before his gaze follows you. And, standing side by side, both of you face down Kromer.
“Kehehe. I mean, it’s just too funny when you think about it.” She muses, white and yellow hair falling over her eyes, “Why put so much effort into burying bodies that can’t even rot… Am I right?”
“Kromer…” Sinclair almost hisses out, hands so tight on his halberd they’re probably white beneath the gloves.
“I’m sure you’ll find ‘em around somewhere if you look hard enough. I do remember nailing those three.” She muses, crazed gray eyes drifting about with not a care in the world, before locking on Sinclair. “Since you were a good boy for bringing them here, I might just tell you where they are…”
“What’s wrong with you?” You ask her, “Desecrating the dead..? How could anyone, even you, do that?”
Kromer just gives you a wide, unnerving grin, her eyes locking onto you with that same awe. “You really don’t like to listen to what you don’t want to hear, do you?”
You draw back slightly, grabbing the Blades by their handles and trying to spot the best method of approach to slash her to ribbons, as Kromer continues to speak in that grating voice.
“Well, Sinclair? You’ve grown a spine, coming all the way here. Enough of one to look at a few dead bodies too, right?”
“Why… Just… Why all this…?” He asks, voice shaking in both rage and terror.
Sinclair couldn’t even speak properly.
“Where did our Before Team get off to? They’ve got to turn up at this point…” Outis suddenly questions to the group, looking… uneasy..?
“Ah~ Sinclair’s got some buddies!” Kromer coos, expression one of twisted glee, “Looking for the other filthy ratlets that snuck in here?”
“Okay, okay. Watch closely. I’ll turn on the lights, so open your eyes wide!” She quickly says, before waving a hand and a spotlight illuminates Effie’s impaled body. She grins wide, wide enough to show bits of her gums, and snickers. “Tadaa!”
Effie makes a pained noise, blinking in the light as he tries to raise his head. Limbs are all torn off, crude prosthetics forced onto the stumps and blood oozing slowly from where a nail goes through his abdomen.
“EFFIE!!” You screech, and he tries to look at you, looking in absolute agony. Don’t… panic. It’s okay. You have the ampules. You can fix this.
Even as he seems to be struggling to breathe, you try to remain calm. You can heal him. He’ll be alright.
“……” Everyone is silent, stunned, until Faust lets out a breath. “In his current state, it will take around two days for him to completely die. And the pole piercing through him will only amplify his suffering.”
“Who says he needs to die?” You quickly ask, “Back- back in- I-”
You can’t talk right.
“I can- Just let me-”
Why can’t you talk right..?
“[Name]...” Dante says gently, “I’m sorry, I know you cared about him.”
“What are you apologizing for?! Just- just give me-” You start rummaging in your pockets, desperately trying to find the ampules. Fuck- too many pockets. Which one did you stick them in again?
“Manager, I happen to know of a method to end a life with as little pain as possible.” Outis quickly interjects, “It’s one that saw many uses, in fact… May I ask you to give me the order?”
“WHAT-?!” You bark, Kromer’s giggles and Outis’ words only putting you more on edge. “NO! Just- give me a second-!”
You scamper to Effie’s side, halfway done with searching each pocket. “It- just give me a minute-! I can save him, okay?! Just trust me, I can-!”
Where are they? You have them, you know you do.
“...[Name]. I’m so sorry-”
“STOP APOLOGIZING AND GIVE ME TIME!” You bark back, managing to find them.
Footsteps approach, and you whirl around, pointing one of the Blades square at Outis, who halts her approach. “WHY WON’T ANY OF YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME-?!”
“[Na-”
“I HAVE K CORP AMPULES!” You finally get out, “I stole them back during the chaos! I- I can use them and save him! Just-”
You drop your weapons, taking Effie’s face in your hands. “I’ll save you, I promise I can save you.”
He gives you a weak smile, and lets out a weak noise of agony.
“I promise.” You choke out.
“...” Dante sighs, “Meursault, please restrain them. Just for this,”
“..?” You give Dante a look of horror, “NO- WAIT- WAIT PLEASE-!”
Meursault doesn’t say a word as he grabs you by the horns, dragging you away from Effie. You desperately search your pockets, fighting to get out of his grip, desperate to find proof, to show them. So they won’t do it-
The Blades twitch where they lay on the ground. Maybe they’ll move, maybe they’ll stop her-
You just need a second-!
“…Rest in peace.” Outis murmurs to the man, and then you find them. THERE THEY ARE!!
“WAIT, DON’T-” You cry out, pulling out the handful of ampules as the faint sound of metal on skin echoes in your ears. The wind howls, the flames crackle, but it’s silent.
Effie’s dead body is silent.
“No- NO!!” You howl, the ampules in your hands falling to the ground with dull thuds. Your ears ring, you feel Meursault let go, and with the few ampules still in your hands to run to his side. “No, no. No no no. No! No, I- I can fix this- Effie-!”
You vaguely see Outis stumble back, but you can’t see your face. You just crack every ampule you have over Effie’s body, hoping that some shred of life remains that will cause him to heal and perk right back up. That the string staying behind for that moment will be enough for him to be able to recover.
But he doesn’t. Because you can’t heal the dead.
“Effie- EFFIE-!!” You shout at him, shaking him desperately, “No- NO! Please-! Please…”
Your whispers die on your tongue, and your eyes burn. You wipe your face with your sleeve, staring at the vibrant green liquid that now stains that bit of your clothes. It’s not unlike the liquid that now clings to Effie’s corpse.
Slowly, you look back at them. You’re angry, you’re sad, and you’re hurt. All you feel right now is a burning, searing pain. “Why couldn’t you just wait?”
You failed. You failed again. Even after everything you did, you just…
It isn’t your fault. You did all you could.
But it wasn’t enough. Because he’s dead.
You fall to the ground with a dull thump, staring at the bloodstained earth and bits of cracked glass from the opened ampules that litter it. You can’t hear anything beyond the flames and her shrill, roaring laugh.
“Pfh… Pwahahahaha!!”
Your gaze slowly reaches up to meet hers, and she approaches you slowly. Her steps are certain and determined. Like, right now, you’re the only goal she wants to reach.
You don’t give her the right to see you look away from her. You just stare at her head on. You don’t see or hear anyone else’s reaction. Right now, it’s just you and her.
I don’t think you should let hate guide you… but you shouldn’t let others into your heart like this. Can’t you see how it hurts you?
And her…
You rise to your feet slowly, fingers ensnaring the handles of the Blades. The tips dig into the softened earth, and there’s nothing you want more than to kill her right now.
Do you even stand a chance?
You don’t. But you don’t really care right now.
“Do you actually think you can kill me?” Kromer asks. Your ears are ringing. You think you hear someone else calling out to you, but…
They aren’t really on your side. If they were, they would’ve waited.
I believe you’re correct.
Does it hurt you?
Why wouldn’t it?
“They didn’t even listen to you when you begged and pleaded… some friends they are!” Kromer laughs to herself, before her head snaps to you once more. “Really, it’s hilarious to see how much you care about people who clearly don’t care about you.”
You think you hear Sinclair make a sound, but you can’t tell what it is.
You want to raise the Blades. You want to cleave off her head. You want to make her suffer as she’s made so many do so before. But you can’t move.
“You want me dead, and yet…”
You can’t even move as she takes your face in her hands in a brutal mockery. Her smile is both insane and sweet, and her eyes sparkle with something you can’t understand.
“You can’t even bring yourself to hurt me.”
You just stare at her, seething in your anger, but you cannot move. You cannot even twitch as one of her hands trails from your cheek to your neck, then to your shoulder, then arm, then wrist. She raises your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss to the scarlet flesh.
Her tongue, warm, drifts along your skin, coming to a pause at the hypothenor. Her teeth graze it, and then-
You hiss in pain as they sink into the meat of your palm. They don’t remain in long, as she gives you a coy smile and laps at the neon green blood that oozes out.
She pulls away, dragging you closer. You still can’t move. But from the corner of your eye, you spot someone else do what you cannot.
You gasp, air dragged from your lungs as Kromer sidesteps Sinclair’s blow, taking you with her, and you realize the clamor from the Sinners.
“You have to die.” Sinclair tells her, and all she does is smile at him. “Yeah, I think that’s the right way.”
“You know… this brings you back, doesn’t it, Sinclair?” Kromer muses, “Your face back then was real priceless.”
Sinclair grits his teeth. “You’ll die by my-!”
Your weapons fall from your grip, and you stand erect at the sound of something being dragged. Something hard. Something by someone who just won’t die.
“…It’s Guido.” You think you hear Outis say. You aren’t sure.
You can’t even look back as he approaches with eased, heavy steps. You can’t move. Why can’t you-?
Because you’re having an panic attack, [Name].
…but you’re in danger.
Not as much as you think. She won’t kill you, isn’t it obvious?
She bit you.
But she won’t kill you.
“Guido, why couldn’t you take out the others?” Kromer asks him, her voice a mix of frustrated and sweet.
Guido comes into view from the corner of your eye, and you see him bow his head. “Forgive my ineptitude, O One Who Grips. My incompetence allowed them to escape.”
“You have to stay alert.” “You never know what’s hidden under those cursed steel craniums.”
“I shall keep your word at heart, O One Who Grips.”
“Since the reunion is over, I’ll be heading back.” Kromer says, and then you realize she’s trying to pull you along.
Are you going to fight back?
…
And finally, you force yourself to move.
You tug yourself from her grip, shoving her back as you reach for weapons that aren’t there. The heat blasts at your eyes, illuminating the now stunned woman before you.
Guido starts to move, but stops when Kromer raises a hand and almost doubles over laughing.
You fumble, trying to pull out Yuri’s sword when she approaches you with swift yet measured steps. You aren’t quick enough when she slaps you square across the temple, and you fall to the ground in a heap.
You think you hear someone scream your name, maybe several, but the blood rushing in your ears makes it impossible to hear almost anything. Your head stings, but the feeling of something cold being wrapped around your wrists helps snap you back to your senses.
Chains..?
Your tail is tied to your legs and your wrists are bound behind your back. By the time you realize you’re trapped, it’s already too late to escape.
“Wuh..?” You choke out, struggling desperately. It’s all in vain, though. You’re not getting out of this one that easily.
“Stop fighting~” Kromer coos, lightly pinching your cheek as she scoops you up into her arms. “Unless you want me to bind your mouth shut too.”
Sinclair screaming your name gets you to peer back, watching Guido easily fend off the Sinners from saving you from this crazed woman.
His hand is reached out for you, and he starts screeching obscenities at Kromer.
“GET BACK HERE! I’ll… I swear, you-! I’LL GRAB YOU WITH MY HAND AND-!”
“Nope, Sinclair.” Kromer says with a smirk, “It’s always been the other way around…”
She grabs your chin with a hand, squeezing you cheeks as she stares deeply into your eyes with an intense look. Then her gray gaze snaps to a shaking Sinclair.
“I am the one who grips.”
And then she carries you straight into the blazing house.
hey could you please write something for Ryoshu? There’s not that much yandere stuff for her. Something like before canto 9 and after canto 9. Glad to see you’re doing better. Feel free to ignore.
yep, sorry if these are shorter.. decided to consider these general hcs for her in the end as I think it covers her behavior pretty well.
Yandere! Ryōshū Hcs
Warnings: Yandere trope, gender netrual darling, violence, murder, stalking, invasion of privacy, slightly suggestive themes, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CANTO 9
❆ Before the canto is where the obsession would grow. Very slow, very gradual, her mind is already occupied with someone else to care for a singular string she's holding onto so tight her hand bleeds. She has no time to glance at your direction at first.
❆ She's even more of a mystery of how you attract her. She isn't one for conversing, let alone in a way you could understand. You'd have better luck trying to hold a conversation with Faust, Yi Sang, or hell, even Vergilius. She also isn't very shy if she doesn't like you.
❆ She'd probably gravitate towards a hermit like her. Silent. Not annoying like the others. Avoiding butting on to issues that aren't yours. Maybe you're even able to understand her abbreviations.. possibly better than Sinclair. Not that it's impossible for her to swoon over you if you don't have those traits, they just make it a bit easier for her to do so.
❆ At first it appears as a slight favoritism. A tolerance. Not as an expression of love..her sharp witted comments are hardly ever aimed at you. If they are, they're noticeably less pointy than the ones aimed at others. If you do get genuinely hurt by them she offers attempts at comforts. Well.. if you find sentiments like “suck it up” comforting.
❆ Perhaps she'll offer you a cig, or a light, if you need either. She'll sit near you on her breaks. Silent. Pair up with you if you're forced to pair for missions. Very minimal interactions.
❆ In battle might be where you fully catch her attention. Something about the way you move around the battlefield, the way you deliver your blows, and the way you splatter viscera to paint the floor. There's a certain.. charm to it. A pull that the violence of amateurs doesn't have. A sight she'd almost consider art.
❆ That's what a lot of her obsession hinges on. She views you as a fellow artist, then a muse, and then finally the art itself.
❆ Her previous behaviors amp up. She's quipping in to curtly threaten to S.T.N.C. when you're being belittled or bothered. She's giving short compliments. If you express discomfort with someone, she's there to stand behind you menacingly and stare daggers. If they aren't important.. they may suddenly no longer be in one piece.
❆ Other sinners she can and will get in scuffles with. The clock can do their thing and wind them back. It'll teach the others a lesson to watch their mouths and choose less sloppy words. She'll make sure others respect you. You may even get a gift of a part from said sinner. It doesn't matter if it freaks you out. She'll simply make better art for you next time.
❆ When it comes to her abbreviations, she doesn't get as snippy when if don't understand them. She actually takes time to explain some of them. Keyword some. She makes some special ones specific to you she wants you to figure out. Ones that Sinclair refuses to repeat as his face turns beat red and shuffles gradually further away from you two.
❆ She'll follow behind you when off the bus. She dosen't care where you want her to or not. Want to argue? Try it. She'll corner you and make the silent threat clear. Even if you try to slink off, she's right behind you. She prefers to not threaten you, but it's not entirely off the table.
❆ She'll root through your room carefully while you sleep. Any photos, diaries, old items, anything sentimental. Anything that can share a memory. To see what could've shaped you into what you are now. If you have any artwork you've made.. she might just outright steal to keep in her room.
❆ When you're awake and talking she'll zone into you talking. She won't give visible signs she's paying attention most of the time, but she is, and she'll remember. She wants to know the fibers that make up the canvas.
❆ She takes notes of what you llike. She tries her best to intertwine it with her "art". Although its hard to tell what's dedicated to what..
❆ During battles she'll position herself next to you. Back to back as the fight goes on. Attacks intertwined. Parallel to one another. Even when you get cut, bruised, and staggered she'll only leer more. Finding a breathtaking sight in your injured form. It riles something up in her she won't admit aloud.
❆ After fights, she tries to if allowed, "tend" to your wounds. I put this in heavy quotations as it's more over a fondling of your wounds then helping. All before ultimately telling Dante to turn back the clock. Although she's a bit sad now everytime they do it.
❆ There are exceptions however. if you're injured mortally, or by one of those leeches from the ring. She'll be fuming. It's a disgusting sight. A senseless violence she won't let you be an exhibit of. How dare they try to make you into one of their shabby pieces. To ensnare you in that sickening web. She'll cut you down from it quickly. Along with cutting them down.
❆ Speaking of the ring, she does her best to make sure you have minimal interactions with them anyways. She doesn't want you tagging along on missions. Her entire Canto really. She doesn't want them spotting you.. yet she doesn't want you to leave you alone. Don't touch that. Don't touch that corpse. Nothing that any of the fingers have touched.
❆ She also does admittedly have some conflicting feelings She has a child to focus on. She already has one thread wrapped around, did she want to give the house of spiders another thread of hers to hold hostage? Araya is the center of her world.. Why are you seeping into it?
❆ Yet.. Araya could use another parent. Another figure in her life. You could raise her together. She's sure you two will get along. If you don't know anything about child care she'll teach you. It may confuse you.. but she'll make sure you know the absolute basics.
❆ Once things are said and done, threads are sliced thin, memories chipped away.. it may end up being like she never had an obsession with you at all. Not the one before.
❆ There's a faint feeling of something there. Something that should be there. She simply can't remember what. There's something about you, but what? What should be there? Perhaps she only remembers another person precious to her. Like Araya.. but the memories are similarly sliced and blank.
❆ The obsession is incomplete. An obsession without being able to remember the details. The person. The want. She's frustrated with everything. The sword's scarab jumps in your presence.
❆ She'll listen to other Sinners comments. Slowly trying to piece together. She'll pry you for information as much as she can. Perhaps interacting with you will remind her of something. It might even be encouraged by Dante to get other memories back..
❆ Her behavior from before for the most part isn't there. She's not entirely hostile.. but she isn't obsessing over you. Why would she?
❆ She'll corner you just to silently stare. Eyes quieted as her brows twitch. Trying to decipher why she feels drawn to you.
❆ There also could be a case where she remembers a decent amount. Just not every detail. She remembers that she loves you. That you're important.. just not everything she's done. Every moment. So she'll get worse in her behavior in this instance. She wants to engrave every bit of you into her mind once again.
❆ Either way She already wrapped you in a web obsession once. Who says you aren't to just repeat the same thing? Even if she forgets her infatuation with you? History repeats itself after all. You're just experiencing hell all over again. It may even be worse as bits of memories recover.. she may not want to lose those pieces ever again.
May I request Yandere La Manchaland's Don Quixote romantic hcs?
(Specifying romantic bcs you already did platonic for him)
THANKS!!!!!!!!
sorry these took so long. Hopefully they suffice :")
Yandere! La Manchaland Don Quixote Hcs
Warnings: Yandere trope, gender neutral darling, SPOILERS FOR CANTO 7, blood, violence, blood drinking, possessive behavior, potentially smothering behavior, possibility of darling dying near the end, kidnapping
❆ In the case of Romantic hcs I'd assume you aren't a bloodfiend. As frankly due to the blood stream and family hierarchy I'm not sure how a Romantic relationship between bloodfiends would work or if it would be permitted. I'm not sure if it would technically be incest if turned into a bloodfiend?.. which if it is I don't wanna creep into that territory.
❆ I'd assume you'd be similar to Bari. That would set up a way to meet Don Quixote. However you could meet him once La Manchaland opens, a more friendly guest, or someone interested in working with the place. Collaborator. At that point Bari themselves is gone.
❆ You catch the old bloodfiends eye however. You have a certain charm. A certain human quality that draws him to you unlike others. You aren't aggressive towards him. You aren't groveling or afraid. You don't treat him as an other for his disease. You offer equal footing instead. You embrace the idea of co-existence between your kinds.
❆ He regales you with the stories he was once told. Encouraging you to exchange your own. Tell him your stories! No story is boring, he insists. If you aren't very enthusiastic.. he tries to encourage you with his tales! To aspire wonder in you. Lighten up will you? If you are as ecstatic as him, he's more than happy.
❆ He enjoys your company no matter what. You fill a familiar gap in his heart. It draws old ire from red eyes near you. A new hunger festering in the background. He constantly searches for you when he can. Speed walking towards you upon seeing you, waving at you, and already talking loudly.
❆ You probably spend more time talking to him than doing anything else in La Manchaland. He may even give you a tour of the place! You're always a welcomed guest. Even allowed past operation times.
❆ His attachment is very apparent. It's very intense too. If you miss a day of talking to him, he's fretting over you the next day. What happened? Were you in some perilous danger? Does he need to come to your rescue? He jokes of course. Just happy to have you back. The first couple of times anyways.
❆ Don Quixote has all the free time in the world. Yet you as a mortal.. don't. Soon you can't come as often. You have a job, bills to pay, obligations to tend to that aren't intertwined with the amusement park and its joys. So Don spends most of his days moping around. Where has his partner in justice gone?
❆ When you appear to visit, now sparse visits, no explanation seems to satisfy him. He does not seem to quite grasp that you can't just.. not pay bills. How you're given not much money to work with. He sees the things keeping you away from him and his family as evil. Corrupt foes that need to be taken down. No matter how much you explain to him that there's not much you can realistically do about it.
❆ It makes your visits more valuable. He's there as soon as you set foot onto the property. You're given rights to come in at any time. He tries his best to talk your ear off even more in hopes you won't notice how much time has passed. He wants you to stay. What he feels for you is different than his children, yet also much different than Bari, but something still so strong. He may even try to leave with you for a day or two.
❆ I think due to the amount of time he's been alive he at least knows a decent bit about human culture. Some of it is admittedly outdated. He tries to mimic displays of human courting he's seen over his lifespan towards you. That is how you humans do it right? Oh? Is it not?
❆ He'll definitely try to get you to educate him on more modern human traditions of doing such. He wants to know your opinions on them.. so he can hopefully try to learn what you like and emulate it.
❆ When it comes to jealousy.. he won't act like he doesn't get jealous. Especially with other humans interacting. They can pursue romantic relationships with you so easily compared to him.. yet he won't let it get him down. Hoping with all the time you spend together you'd look his way. However he will silently pout in the background. Waiting for them to stop hogging your attention.
❆ Now if someone makes you upset.. while he won't kill them in most cases. He wants to maintain peace between humans and bloodfiends.. he won't let them trample over you. They're given a harsh glare and kicked out of La Manchaland and banned from entering again. He may even try to go through human resources like law if need be.
❆ You're not required to donate blood packs if you don't want to compared to other guests. However it's still heavily encouraged.. if you do. Don's the only one allowed to drink it. They're specially marked. A guilty pleasure of his he drinks in private. He is still a bloodfiend. He still hungers like the rest. He's merely the best at suppressing it with hopes and dreams.
❆ In his wishful dreams.. drinking your blood brings him closer to you. Part of him wishes drinking it would make him human.
❆ Part of him feels disgusted by it. A sickly display of his nature.. but look at what he's built! He's better than it. He's conquered it. He's invented because of it. Blood packs are the entry fee that many accept. A small bit of blood. What's the harm? You willing gave it to him. A fair trade off.
❆ Despite the supposed peace bloodfiends scamper away from you. Quickly running to feed on bloodbags and hemobars. Their fathers stern warnings given in private stuck in their heads. Written into their blood. It's a silent tension in the air as they grow hungrier. Yet their mental barriers make it to where they can't disobey the rule set.
❆ He's grabbing onto your arm and keeping you close to the side as you wander La Manchaland. Less focused on his grandiose stories. More focused on your mundane life. One that does not allow you to dream, it saddens him to see you like this! Surely there must be a solution? Fairytales are sprinkled between to lighten the mood. The same twinkle still in his eye.
❆ You're given gifts. Old items he's collected over the centuries he thinks you'll like. He may even encourage you to sell it if you so wish or need. He can always find you more and make new memories can he not? What was that tale of the man giving to the poor again that you told him?
❆ When he goes out on his final adventure.. there's extra goals. Seeking some sort of remedy for your responsibilities, some relic, some river, anything. Perhaps vanquish the evils that plague you. The evil people in a noble pursuit of justice.
❆ He tries to convince you to join him. To go live out this dream. Relief from your burdens. Even if only for a moment. To see the world he sees. Spouting hopeful notions of finding something to fix your life. Well as he sees it needing fixing. Alas you cannot join him to his heartbreak. It only makes him more determined to find what he seeks. Just promise him you will be there to greet him when he returns. Giving you a specific day to come greet him.
❆ That day would be a mistake. The children rebelled, their father staked on a bough, trapped, La Manchaland sealing away, and you're trapped within it. Barely alive. Even as the dream crumbles, you're kept alive. Miserably so.
❆ A disillusioned Don Quixote traps you in the ferris wheel. He was a fool. Forgive him. Or don't. You don't need to. Who was he to think he could love a human? That.. that could be? That you were subjected to the love of something diseased. Now you're trapped here. He may as well keep you safe while you live out your mortal span.
❆ He'd rather you die a natural death than.. become a bloodbag. Nor a bloodfiend. He doesn't want to infect you with his diseases. To damn you to eternal hunger. He loved you for your humanity. You'll die with that humanity. Die a miserable human death.
❆ He tries to sustain you. Picking food off human survivors.. possibly if you're desperate enough. Eating the remains. He considers letting them rescue you.. yet he knows the hungry children that wait for them will spare no mercy. Not to them or you. No rescue team has ever actually succeeded in a rescue. Why would yours be different?
❆ He'll apologize over and over. He was so foolish. He should've let you live your normal life. All while reminiscing over those moments between you two. The life and hope leaving both of your eyes. Having to watch you slowly wither away from his spot in that ferris wheel. Perhaps a certain homesick child will return in time to save you if you haven't already perished from age, dehydration, disease, or starvation.
Hii! Are your requests open? I want to request headcannons of yandere Verg or dating hcs for Verg. He barely got anything on this platform (and ao3). You can ignore this if you don't want to write it.
sure can!!
Yandere! Vergilius Hcs
Warnings: Yandere trope, spoilers for later cantos, spoilers for leviathan, gender netrual darling, stalking, violence, intimidation, overprotective behavior, controlling behavior
❆ You're lucky he expresses anything more than mild tolerance and perhaps a vague liking towards you at first. If at all. He's there to do a job. To fulfill a contract. So he can get what he's lost back and to keep what's left safe. Everyone in LCB is there for their own self serving reasons.
❆ You're more than likely either part of LCB or an associate working with them during a Canto. More than likely someone level headed too. If you're an over zealous suck up or a problem starter it'll take much longer for him to attach himself than it already would.
❆ He takes notice when you preemptively stop fights, negotiate successfully, or shut down destructive antics from the sinners. Sometimes doing a better job at being a manager than Dante. You've saved him a lot of headaches.
❆ Most of his interactions of just business related as with anyone else. You have your reason for being here, he has his, you don't need much more than that. Yet overtime, just as with Dante and their crew, he grows fond. It's a subtle fondness. He feels a weight be lifted when he sees he'll be working with you for a mission. He feels grateful when you shut down a shouting match so quickly he doesn't even need to poke his head out of the front of the bus.
❆ Over time he makes little notes of things. The way you talk. Your attitude. General likes and dislikes. Mannerisms. He has brief chats with you between cantos. He'll thank you once in a blue moon for your work. All only personal on a surface level.
❆ Slowly to him, you start to resemble.. certain people. A faint echo of what he had failed to protect. So he gravitates towards you more. He starts to pull you aside to go run other needed business things with him and Charon. Along with some detours. All while Dante and the Sinners are off fighting through waves and stumbling through plans.
❆ He'll call you to the front of the bus with him and Charon. Often excusing it as wanting your opinions on something or informing you on to things. He'll never state it but it's a silent agreement that he's grown to like you.
❆ He slowly tries to pull you back from missions with the Sinners. If you really want to go he'll relent. You're an adult. He won't infantilize you.. but he has a lingering fear. The sinners can come back. Even if you can as well.. What if you get overwritten? Like Lapis did?
❆ However once you get into later cantos where The Ring is heavily involved he'll absolutely pull you from operations of that nature. Unless he's demanded from higher ups or advised by Faust. He will give a sharp glare to cement you there. Crass vague threats of violence at whoever tries to voice differing opinions. Including even you.
❆ You won't ever be truly alone. He'll accompany you whether you like it or not. You'll notice a red shine from the dark spots around you, yet never get to find the source. You'll perhaps see someone trailing you, yet nothing that couldn't be written off. Other times you'll get demands from the higher ups to let Vergilius guide you. That is his job after all.
❆ Any threat is quickly blitzed into a pool of blood. So quick you still won't be able to register that it's him. If you do manage to perceive him. He'll have an excuse. He'll have an explanation. One you'll just have to accept.
❆ If someone's bothering you or being snarky he's more than willing to use his status to scare them off. He'll follow through with the threats if need be. He's a color fixer. No one would bat an eye in the city.
❆ If you cry and bawl your eyes out.. he'll awkwardly stand beside you. Hand on your shoulder. If you allow.. and if there's no one else to witness. He'll let you cling onto him. He'll be mostly silent. Maybe giving some advice if you ask. He isn't the best at comforting but he'll make an effort for you.
❆ When it comes to very difficult boss fights he's suddenly stepping in to help the team. Only if you're on the roster for the fight. He'll use his ego as he did in Heath's Canto. He's willing to stain himself in more red for you. It's in the title he's been given.
❆ He doesn't care if you look at him in terror. He won't lose you too. Maybe it's for the best really If you run far, far, away from him. He sometimes wonders if he wasn't a part of his previous team if they would have lived. Despite that, he'll still apologize for what you had to see of him.
❆ Even if you think he's a monster. A beast. Damned just like the sinners.. so be it. Do you think he is frightening? Fine. Just know there's much more evil people in this world..ones you'll never have to run into. If it's at the cost of you fearing him, he'll take it. He will be your guide, even if one day he must depart from you at the end of the road. As long as you reach the end of it in one piece.
