章 77: Radical Sequence of Events

"Urgh…" A parched groan escaped my lips as I squinted my eyes further, the bright red static in front of my eyes disrupting the already rattled sleep of mine.

The light seared through my eyelids, sending sharp waves of pain into my already throbbing head. I shifted slightly on the lumpy couch, the annoyingly silky fabric scratching against my cheek which only added to my progressively increasing discomfort.

Letting out a slow breath, I sighed and placed my arm over my eyes. The annoying red transitioned into a much more soothing, cold black static.

"Uff-" I groaned once again.

My back was screaming. A deep, aching pain spread from my lower spine up to my shoulders. The couch, with its weird backward orientation was certainly a very poor substitute for a bed.

With another tired exhale, I removed my arm and opened my eyes abruptly.

The artificial light flooded back in, momentarily blinding me before my vision adjusted. My surroundings slowly came into focus: the cluttered room, strewn with empty bottles and…discarded clothing.

Hmm. Wait…what? Clothes…?

The stale scent of alcohol, sweat and…something else – heavy in odour – lingered in the air. It smelt very much like chlorine. Or bleach…

I glanced over at the closed bedroom door, and rubbed my eyes. As the fog was completely lifted, I took a look around and saw what was all this about. And then, in a moment of sudden sobriety, I recalled 'a few' sounds that had filtered through my dormant, sleeping state.

The scattered- almost torn effeminate clothes on the ground seemed to check out with my hypothesis.

Michael – as expected – had indulged in 'not-so-holy' entertainment all night long with a harem of demonesses. I shivered involuntarily, the recollection of the noises making my skin crawl. Thankfully, I had drunk more Glyphic Bloom Brew than I would admit.

I am not sure why Jayden arranged such…things for us, who were children, but I suppose this is what people call 'cultural shock.' One thing, however, was interesting. I have not seen anyone have the same look in their—the demon escorts—eyes ever since we arrived in this castle in Lawold. Last time I saw that dreamy look was in the Wyrms' eyes.

Hmm. I think I might be thinking too deep into it.

A soft moan shook my insides as I jerked my head to the side. A woman was laying upside down – her legs on the bed and lower body flung downwards. Two small, pebble sized stumps protruded out of her forehead.

On the bed, Michael was sleeping naked with a giant blanket covering only his crotch while 3 different demon girls—or women were scattered all around him, their bare bodies bruised and full of…marks of activity.

He is...strange¹. Any sort of understanding or mild goodwill I had built for him suddenly slipped away.

A thought suddenly crossed my mind. Did Jayden perhaps offer Astrid the same…entertainment as us? Hmm…

That sounds unpalatable to me. I hope he didn't.

I had been offered the same thing but I had immediately opted to crash on the couch to seek refuge from this madness. However, I am still curious about another thing as well. A rather simple question.

Why?

I mean why, as in…why?

What is the purpose behind everything that has transpired until now. Everything that has led us to this point feels like a mindless script from a child tasked with the idea of story-making. The only thing that can justify this bizarre turn of events – right from Jayden and Aksel stopping their fight until our spar against Jayden's children – is the hypothetical hidden arrangement between the two.

Forget theory, it can be classified as – in scientific terms – as a theory. If they are acting this well without an arrangement, then it just means I have gone astray as to what the societal norms are. Because from a logical perspective, this radical sequence of events should not have happened in the first place.

From the way I had envisioned it, mother's obsession with me would have forced Aksel to come here to save the world by not letting her out in the open, and during the rescue he would either die or get mortally injured while defeating Jayden; whereas me, Astrid and Michael would've handled Ed easily.

Groaning again, I tried to straighten up, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through my stiff, sore muscles. My head was pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat, mercilessly reminding me of my overindulgence. I rubbed my temples, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure, but it was futile.

I wonder if Michael will die if I make him drink as much as I did. Maybe I should force this scum of the Earth—no, scum of two worlds drink as much as me.

"Fuff…" A self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Quite ironic of me to judge others based on morality. Well, I suppose I am self-aware. I think…

The last thing I wanted was to wake Michael or his demonic escorts. The thought of facing his knowing smirk and teasing comments made my stomach churn.

Hence, I stood up and started moving slowly and deliberately. I swung my legs over the edge of the couch and planted my feet on the warm, soft flooring. A sharp stab of pain where Ed had slashed me shot up my spine, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.

The symbiote infesting my wound was gone, but there was still a small scar left which burnt every now and then. It is getting better every day, but sometimes you just wish you never had supernatural senses which could detect the slightest discrepancy in the usual 'normal functioning ' of the body.

The dim blue moonlight – most likely signalling that it was day now – filtered through the curtains and highlighted the occasional dust motes floating in the air, giving the room an almost ethereal quality…obviously, if you could ignore the musty odour.

I skirted around the scattered debris, avoiding the telltale signs of the previous night's debauchery. The closer I got to the bathroom, the more urgent my need for water and a moment of solitude from this whole place became.

Finally, I reached the bathroom door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind me. Leaning against the cool wall, I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

Moving towards the tub I turned on the tap, the sound of running water soothing out my frayed nerves. A few vines hung from the cloister ceiling, swaying gently with the draft from the open window. They cascaded down in natural loops, the leaves' green colour morphing into a mix of aquamarine and teal as moonlight flowed down on it.

Splashing my face with what little cold water had accumulated into the tub, I relished the refreshing shock, hoping it would clear the lingering fog of the plethora of thoughts on my mind.

Catching my pitiful reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but swear to myself that I would never drink this much again—though I know, deep down, it was a promise I was unlikely to keep. After all, it's what helps me in times nothing else does.

That is perhaps what every alcoholic tells himself or herself before drinking themselves to sleep. Hmm. I think I might need some rehabilitation.

The tub slowly filled with warm water, steam rising in wisps that curled in lazily towards the ceiling. Moisture droplets gathered on the vine leaves, glistening like small jewels, refracting the light waves.

Taking in a heavy whiff, I noticed that the water coming out of the tap was infusing the air with a faint, earthy scent that mingled with the clean aroma of the soap I had added to the water. Technologically speaking, people of Eden are quite behind, however; Arcanum has helped them compensate for it.

Logically speaking, people on Earth have no chance against Eden. If they decide to wage war, that is. From the looks of it, both sides look pretty compromising. However, this doesn't mitigate the imminent interracial war. This just changes the nature of it.

I am sure Jayden wants to use this for his own agenda. Overthrowing a sibling kingdom, or perhaps ending the situation with the so-called 'Sylvan Brotherhood,' or whatever it's called. My eyes are too unfocused to think about such details.

The sound of water dropping off the corner of the tub brought me out of my thoughts. Carefully, I slipped out of my rumpled clothes, the fabric whispering as it fell to the tiled floor.

Easing myself into the tub, the heat hugged me, soothing away the tension in my muscles. The warmth was just what I needed after that fight with Wujins and then Isolde as it seeped into my skin, drawing out the last remnants of chill and lethargy from the night before.

Leaning back against the smooth surface, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. The vines above me rustled softly, leaves casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the walls.

I submerged myself further, the water lapping gently against my chest. The steam continued to rise. The bathroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of weightlessness and the soothing murmur of stagnant water. I almost closed my eyes and slept again.

Fighting the urge to pass out again, I stayed there, soaking in the peaceful ambiance, allowing myself to be swept away by the moment.

I think I deserved this much. Believe it or not.

The vines above swayed in a synchronised manner with the cadence of my breathing – sometimes fast, and sometimes a slow back and forth.

As the water began to cool, I reluctantly pulled myself out of the tub. Reaching for the only towel hanging nearby, I wrapped it around myself, feeling the lingering warmth of the bath against my skin.

Drying my feet off the small 17 x 15 rug mat laying to the side of the tub that was made out of silky feathers, I put on the wooden sandals that were right behind the sink-lookalike.

Once I had dried my whole body, I picked up the white undershirt that was a loose shirt with a narrow neck-space. It could be adjusted using the laces that held the two sides of the V-shape that connected with the otherwise overall round collar.

Next, I picked up the slightly heavy light-brown overtunic. The faint smell of the production place where it was made had mixed in quite nicely with the perfume sprinkled over it. It fit me perfectly, with the cuffs of white shirt underneath slightly revealing themselves from the ends of the overtunic.

The overtunic's length reached mid-thigh, edges laced with elaborate trim that added just a touch of flair without being ostentatious.

Wrapping the fancy looking girdle around my waist, I felt the braided leather – sturdy textured – under my fingers. The girdle was studded with tiny, precious stones and intricate metalwork. They sure like adding colourful jewels to almost everything.

I then slipped on the dark-brown hose that contrasted passably with the lighter tunic.

Once I was done with the basic clothes and felt the warmth return to my cold body, I walked out of the bathroom. The transition from the steam-filled dreamy and refreshingly aromatic ambiance to that of the room was startling to say the least. The momentary respite had made me forget what kind of hell I had left behind.

Taking the wooden sandal out so I do not make unnecessary sounds, I walked over the end of the room and picked a pair of socks that were – for some odd reason – displayed on the side table. Wearing the black ones, I slid my feet into soft leather shoes.

Wiggling my toes a few times inside it, I felt its comfort, which was decent. The faint smell of polished leather was still fresh. Satisfied, I tightened the laces and instead of knotting them, I just pushed them back into the shoe from the sides. While the shoe loses its practicality this way, Astrid says this makes me look more 'swaggy.'

Not sure what that is supposed to mean, but as long as it doesn't make me stand out like a freak in a general setting, I do not have any complaints against it.

"URGHHH!"

Oh, my goddess…no.

As my body creaked while turning back, I saw Michael squirming amidst the small pond of women hugging him. His eyes were closed, but his forehead was creased and his nose crinkled.

While Arcanum did enhance us in more than one way, there was still a limit to what a teen body could do. He should've seen this coming.

Well, you can't really expect anything remotely close to 'common sense' from Michael. Makes me curious about if he was actually like this from the start. The haze restricts any and all recollection of the past, but from a basic observation, I think he might have been different. As a child, I mean.

Not allowing him to spot me, I silently opened the door and got outside, shutting it right after. It closed with a slight click.

Outside, I saw there were two guards standing guard. Their postures were rod straight, however, from the corner of their eyes they were observing me with a rather malicious look. Not like I was the one who did something to your kind…

Disregarding the murderous looks from the guards, I started walking towards the place where most likely Aksel and Jayden were.

After the spar last night, the three of us were guided towards the proper rooms. The one we had before were rooms prepared in a state of emergency. So, while the banquet and spar were going on, proper rooms were arranged for us on the ground floor.

Much to my disdain; Astrid and I were given a single room, once again. I could feel some kind of discomfort in her. It was understandable since girls and women have to go through the same ordeal every month. Respecting her space, mostly because I did not want to be subjected to her mood swings during her monthly occurrence, I left the room and slept in Michael's room.

That was also when I came across the otherworldly beverage. But I suppose it made me feel that euphoric was because it was spreading the intoxication based on the arcanum inside my body. Like how gasoline burns from the top surface when sparked and not explode, it was somewhat similar to that.

And since I do not have an outrageous control over my Arcanum, I was unable to escape the clutches of intoxication. Thankfully, I had retained enough control to not indulge in the more extreme pleasures. After all, I am sure no one wants a demonic version of AIDS.

As I walked, I noticed things that I had not last night. The hallway was extending endlessly in both directions. The floor was decorated with carpet in the middle, but the edges where the floor met with wall was exposed, revealing that it was a smooth-slab-stone floor, seemingly worn smooth by centuries of footfalls.

The hallway was quite wide. On one side, heavy wooden doors dominated the walls at precise seven-metre intervals. I am unaware of exact materials but from initial looks they were made from dark, aged oak, and reinforced with iron bands that had slight orange rust at the seams.

The handles were wrought iron, the designs resembling a serpent-dragon or a basilisk coiled around ancient symbols.

Above each door, a small, flexile-iron sconce held a flickering candle, emitting a dim, wavering orange-yellow light that illuminated the space between the doors. Arcanum was slightly swirling around the sconces, indicating it was getting sustained with arcanum.

That should explain the unnatural brightness. Touching the walls as I walked, I felt that the stone walls were cold and slightly damp. The base of some corners where the supporting pillars segregated each window were covered in places with creeping ivy and patches of moss.

This would make sense since such flora would thrive in the perpetual dimness of Lawold. I suppose they are left as they are because they are not disrupting the beauty of the overall ambiance.

Opposite to the series of doors – a sequence of tall, narrow windows lined the other side of the hallway. With pointed arches and leaded glass panes, it allowed a very clear view of the outside world—or what passed for it in Lawold.

The sky was a uniform shade of grey. Like a thick blanket of grey mist that hung suspended in the air, above the stratosphere, causing a state of perpetual twilight. There were no stars to break the monotony of the sky. Just an endless expanse of muted grey that differentiated day from night by the transition from grey to black and then back to grey.

The windows were framed by light drapes, cinched to the side by golden bands. The chill of the castle and the past dawn permeated through the glass, causing a slight condensation on the inner surfaces, subtly distorting the view outside. Occasionally, a gust of wind rattled the panes.

The ceiling was high and vaulted, with ribbed stone arches that met in the centre.

Every few metres, a stone pedestal stood against the wall beneath a window, each one holding a different artefact or piece of ancient armour. They were clean, lustrous even, indicating how much care went into them. A transparent cuboid arcanum-barrier protected the artefacts inside.

As the light of the torches flickered in and out, I could make out the arrays of the barrier that formed it.

The air in the hallway was cool and refreshing. I could somehow smell the faint scent of old books and damp stone.

On cue, I turned my head and saw a huge door giving way to the library. A few demons were inside, dusting the books. Some had climbed the ladders; some were opening each individual book and were cleaning them softly with a silk cloth attached to a small wooden stick.

I took an involuntary step towards it, however; one of them beat me to the entrance and stood in the doorframe. "Entry until the regular morning cleanup is done is prohibited by Lord Cromwell himself." He spoke, his tone low and contumacious.

"Hmm. Alright, I will be back." Despite sensing he did not want me even in the close proximity of the library, I announced my arrival anyways.

I wish I could have recorded the look on his face…oh!

Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the new phone I had bought after 'accidentally' breaking the last one. The screen protector over it was in an absolute mess, however, underneath; the actual screen was unscathed. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

22,000 Kroner for a mere phone is as outrageous as it already is. I do not want to go into debt after breaking this one as well.

Turning it on, I looked at its battery first. It still had around 27% of battery left. There were no signals, but I still placed it on aeroplane mode and turned-on battery saving mode. It might not work here, but who knows; this little charge might prove really fruitful later on.

Scrolling mindlessly for a while – because nothing worked without an internet connection – I slipped it back into my pocket after reducing its brightness once it dropped to 25%.

Before I knew it, I had arrived at the very corner of the hallway. The endless stretch of doors and windows finally ended, giving way to what I assumed as the 'main hall'. Although I couldn't be sure, since this was one of the many halls I had walked through last night, after getting lost on my way to the room from the infirmary.

The end of the hallway transitioned into a baroque stone archway. As I stepped through the brightly lit archway, the brighter artefacts – which I assume were reserved for 'daytime' – illuminated the place, making me take in the surroundings thoroughly for the first time. It was a sizable space that seemed to swallow the dim light from the hallway.

The high ceiling of the hall was supported by colossal stone columns that lined the sides. Each column was carved with occasional runes that seemed like a mix of Abrahamic and some other languages. They were not entirely decipherable.

A giant chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling, the heavy iron frame adorned with countless candles that flickered softly. The smell of wax mixed in with incense sticks soothed out any lingering tension I had on my mind. Taking a heavy whiff of it, I exhaled.

Slipping my hands into my pants, I looked around. To my right, I caught sight of a room just off the hall. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the interior. The door was less imposing than those in the hallway, smaller and less adorned, but it seemed new, unmarked by wear and tear. The iron handle was cool under my hand as I pushed the door open further.

As it opened without making a sound, it revealed the simple yet stylish room. It was almost similar to the one Michael had.

Astrid jerked her head back, the pin that held her bun pressed between her lips and the bundle of hair suspended upwards as she tried to form a perfect bun.

"…Arthur!" She exclaimed after a moment of absentmindedly staring at me.

"Good morning." I greeted, taking a step inside as I closed the door with a 'tick.'

"Good morning!" She greeted me. She stood up and left her hair, causing it to roll down and spill down on her shoulders. While she was turning, she realised what she had done as she looked back into the mirror.

"Noo~" She exclaimed with a crestfallen face. "My hair…"

"It looks fine as it is." I raised my voice, leaning against the wall.

"I—ugh…wait, no, that's not important." As if having a hundred thoughts on her mind, her features showed as if she was struggling which one to give priority to. She stomped on the floor and then walked towards me. Holding the side of my arms, she jerked them.

A shiver ran down my spine. Suppressing the survival reflex, I looked down.

"We need to talk. Like right now." She spoke and pursed her lips tightly.

"Vanilla and honey." I blurted out.

"…huh?"

"Your lips. They smell like vanilla."

Her huge, round eyes widened as she took a sudden step back, the slight freckles underneath her eyes vanishing beneath the red that flushed it. "It's the…lipgloss…"

"You brought one?" I asked, blinking rapidly in confusion. It was honestly impressive. She could've died while coming to Eden, and she decided to pack a lipstick. Words cannot begin to describe how utterly enthralled I am.

Before she could reply, I took a step forward. She breathed in sharply, as if she had suddenly stubbed her toe. "Something wrong?" I asked, as she stood still, unmoving.

"Err; ehm, not really…" Her voice drifted away by the end, as she looked to the side. Making myself comfortable over the left seat of the three-seater couch that was placed around 4 inches away from the doorframe, I looked up at her. She stared at me for a while and then suddenly gasped.

Her lips parted and she shook her head. "Ah yes, I was saying…wait, what was I saying?"

"Something really important?"

She raised her brows and then snapped her fingers. "Yes, that!"

"Right…?" I was quite confused. It was one of those times where I did not want to get on her bad side. She is really grumpy during these days. And besides, even back then, she had talked about how she can't do all of this anymore.

She walked over to the other side and plopped right by me. As I was about to turn my head towards her, she jumped back, sitting in the far-right corner of the couch. "Right, so…" she stammered, but continued talking anyway.

"…have I done something?"

"I am afraid I do not understand." I answered as a matter-of-factly. What she asked was very vague.

"You are doing a lot of things. Such as breathing, seeing, looking. I am not sure what you are referring to." I continued, explaining as to what I meant by the previous sentence. "Can you be specific?"

She narrowed her eyes and the thin lips pursed once again. Now that she was sitting right underneath the light source, I could see the gloss on her lips.

She was wearing an ivory chemise. Its long sleeves were trimmed with lace that felt slightly rough but made meticulously. Over it was a darker-shade gown which seemed like a snug fit at the waist that flared into a full skirt.

Golden and silver embroidery of vines and flowers adorned the gown. She was also wearing a short, fur-trimmed mantle in dark brown, with fur that felt thick and soft, and a jewelled clasp. The pointed leather shoes matched the gown.

The light colour scheme was quite fitting on her. She shifted and eased out the two creases in her lap area.

"You know what I mean…" she started talking, the look in her eyes softening ever so slightly.

"…you have changed ever since, you know, you came out of that whole cube – if you can even call it that – thingy. Are you okay? Have I done something wrong? You didn't even stay for a single moment last night as well. After the whole spar…I was looking forward to sealing up any damage to your body, you know?"

Hmm.

"There was nothing much to be worried about anyways." I replied after a few moments of silence. "Just took a quick visit to the garden for a stroll and then the infirmary. Turns out I am not the one who needs any kind of medical attention." Narrating the events of what transpired after the fight, I sunk further back into the couch.

"Well, that's good, I guess." She looked down, fiddling with her thumbs. Her hair was covering her features from the side. "You didn't answer what I asked."

"Sorry?"

She shook her head. "You don't answer a question when you don't have a roundabout answer to that." She spoke with a rather judgmental look. "I am guessing I really did something but you are not sure how to put it into words in front of me. Right?"

"Not really." I lifted my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "If there was something I would have…"

She suddenly crossed her leg and placed her chin in her palm. Her gloss-laden lips quirked up. "You are lying again."

"Is it a lie if I don't think what you did was wrong after all?"

She breathed out furiously, the smile only half-present. "You know, you overcomplicate everything. Maybe just say it normally, and you know, we can work it out?"

I stared at her for a while. She matched my gaze for the first few seconds and then started to look over my head, avoiding me. "Is it because of something I said when you came after me? You know, when you killed those lizard-doggy things…Mugen? Mugen Train?"

"Wujin…"

"Ah, yeah, that."

"Perhaps. Who knows." I raised a knowing brow at her.

"You know, I don't even remember what I said!" She exclaimed as I stood up, her eyes following me.

"Doesn't make it any better, in all honesty." I admitted, however; decided to dismiss it.

Astrid was just a child. Holding what she says when her life is almost stolen against her is not a wise approach. She was weak – physically, and mentally – but that was nothing to brood on. She had space for growth. Infinite growth.

I needed her to nurture her Arcane Art to the limit. However, stains on the heart and brain are the main reasons that impede an arcanum user's growth. A not-so ideal situation, especially for me.

"But-"

She was about to talk when I stood up and extended my hand.

Astrid stared at it for a while. Smiling, she extended her own hand.

What the—

Shaking my hand out of the way, I spoke up. "Not your hand. I meant-" I pointed at the long needle like pin in her hand. "-that."

"You did it on purpose, didn't you!?"

Walking to her back, leaned forward, letting the slightly elevated handle of the couch support my weight. "The hairpin." I repeated, extending my hand forward.

Without looking back, she extended her hand and held it to me. I took it from her grasp. "Let's attribute it to misinterpretation on my part." I started speaking, referring to the previous subject.

Her hair was still damp between my fingers. "I am quite sensitive these days." I admitted.

"Mhmm. I can tell." She giggled. "I'm supposed to be the one who should be—ehmm, nothing."

She suddenly paused midway, awkwardly coughing.

Oh. She thinks I do not know. I should tell her. Hmm.

But the probability of this revelation devolving into something even more troublesome is quite high. Hmm…yeah, let's leave her as deluded as she is.

Running my fingers through her hair I smoothed out any tangles. Then, gathering the strands at the crown of her head, I felt the weight of it as it pooled into my hands. Slowly, I twisted the hair into a rope-like coil, winding it around itself to form a tight bun.

"Woah…you're good at it." She marvelled. "Have you been doing it to lots of girls? Hehe."

"I rarely leave the house, you know that." I let out a tired breath.

"True, true…Ow…!" She bobbed her head back and forth which made it almost slip out of my grasp, but I pulled at it, keeping her head in place. "Why are you pulling my hair?"

Because it feels nice…?

"You were moving too much. I am trying to compensate for when I ruined your hair a while ago." With the bun formed, I held it securely with one hand while picking the hairpin with the other. The centre of the pin was still moist where Astrid had gripped it between her lips.

I slowly rubbed my thumb against it.

"Hey? Are you there?"

"Uh? Yeah."

Carefully sliding the pin through the base of the bun, I weaved it in and out to secure the hairstyle in place. The metal-jade felt firm and steady, holding the bun together with a reassuring stability. She raised her hands and held her hair from the side, pulling a few strands from either side before letting it rest loosely on her face.

"You just ruined it…" I complained, feeling crestfallen.

"No, silly, this is how you sport it."

"By ruining something you've done so painstakingly?"

"It's not ruining if it's better!"

I think homeschooling has made me miss a big portion of my life.

"Alright. There you go." I spoke as I took a step back from her.

She stood up and ran towards the mirror, inspecting every nook-and-cranny of it. After a while of inspecting it, she looked back with a bright smile. "This is perfect! When did you learn it?"

"I saw you doing this once."

"Oh, real—wait, I usually style my hair after I wear my shirt."

"And?"

"I usually…you know what? Forget about it. I am sure I am overthinking it…ugh, my mood suddenly took a dip!" She looked at me with a rather hard look.

Realising this was the time to take my leave before this ticking time bomb exploded right into my face, I decided to leave.

"I will leave. I think breakfast is going to be served soon. Will see you there."

"How am I supposed to find my way there? I can't even understand these horn-y people…God that sounds awful, I mean, people!"

"Follow the smell, I guess?" I spoke and before she could finish her sentence, I walked out.

She was in high spirits, putting other factors to the side. The little lapse in judgement I had that made me worry about her potential getting halted was of no use. I was merely overthinking. As I walked away from her door, her loud voice became nothing more than a distant whoosh, I looked down at my finger.

It was shining with a slightly pink gloss.

Hahh…what am I doing? Rubbing it against my hose and started walking towards the garden. There was still time to breakfast. A little walk before some food would not hurt.

----

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After a brisk run of around 10 minutes, I met up with Astrid in the dining hall and had breakfast.

The breakfast – much like every other moment in this castle – was quite awkward. It was quite clear that they were being forced to do whatever they were doing.

And although from a very self-absorbed perspective it is humiliating and shameful, it is not something that should've been that far from expectations. One would have an easier time getting used to it if a hypothetical situation was thought up in which our roles were reversed.

Would we be any different?

It could go in a little different route since most humans do not know about the hostility or even existence of other races, however; for argument's sake, let's say all humans know what feelings or what the other species tried to do to them all these years ago. Would they act complacent and welcoming?

Of course, no. Even if demons or alike were not hostile, humans have a natural inclination towards violence. Violence in any shape and matter. Be it direct, or indirect.

If in such situations, people who were brought up with hatred against humans whispered into their ears since their first cry resounded into this world, this kind of reaction should come as very…tolerable. To say the least.

Putting the awkward, passive-aggressive contexture to the side, the breakfast itself was enough to overthrow any lingering animosity that was directed at us. The breakfast was served with an egg dish and some kind of tea.

The egg dish was cooked in a much different way than the ones on Earth. It was shaped like a meringue and cooked in something that was spicy and really greasy. However, at the same time, it left a rather delicate, floral sweetness as an aftertaste and the beginning hints of bitterness from the spiciness of what I assumed as 'chilli flakes' would fade into oblivion, eventually.

The outside was hard – like a jaw-breaker but once my teeth dipped into it, it gave a loud crunch, giving way to a soft, marshmallow-like interior which was filled with a mixture of yolk and something else, cooked like a smooth, creamy and salty custard.

And while I was oblivious to the second item, it had a remarkable secondary note – some kind of mushroom followed by a refreshing zing of crushed ice berries. It was garnished with crystallised petals of lilies on fire…literal fire that gave the area underneath it a dark shade.

Shards of spun sugar were also sprinkled giving it a caramelised depth.

I was quite blown away at first, however, I soon understood why it made me feel like I had never eaten something like this before.

Foods that are salty and sweet are hyperpalatable which can also trigger hormones that contribute to cravings—such as insulin, dopamine, ghrelin and leptin. Salt minimises sweetness and sharpens flavours, while sugar simultaneously helps round out a salty dish by softening the taste and balancing it out.

It's bound to bombard your senses.

As I was thinking about the breakfast that I had absolutely demolished and brimmed my starved stomach with, Astrid's breath continued to progressively become quicker and grumpier. Her steps faltered every now and then, making her stop and then run to catch up.

"Are you actually going to follow me around?"

"Isn't that my job description?" She quipped almost immediately, as if she had the answer on the tip of her tongue.

Taking a glance at her, I spoke up. "You don't look too…well."

Her ears twitched like a rabbit. "I am perfectly, ughhh- fine."

"Doesn't sound very convincing." I felt my words drawl as she huffed and then looked away.

Tracking back the path from where I had come earlier, we reached the intersection after which one of the many halls divided into more spaces. My eyes instinctively moved to follow towards the library's room.

The single door of the library was closed and the people who were working inside had long since left, evident from how little the general presence of people in the vicinity was.

Much to my surprise, Jayden had not stationed people to follow us at all times under the pretext of 'showing the guests around.' However, there were people standing in front of rooms and other passageways. This could mean that he wanted to regulate our visits and our doings only in specific regions.

And from the looks of it, the library is not one of them.

"Do you think they have something interesting in there?" As if reading my mind, Astrid pointed her finger in the library's direction.

"Only one way to find out, right?"