After what felt like an eternity—months trapped in the House of Aum, grinding herbs until my fingers were stained an unnatural shade of green, and enduring so many near-death experiences that my soul had earned frequent flyer miles—Master Sylph finally granted me a breather.
It was a bright, early morning. Birds chirped like they had something to prove, and golden sunlight dared to filter into my room with unearned optimism.
I lay there, eyes wide open.
And they refused to shut.
"It's still early," I muttered, glaring at the ceiling. "Why won't my body go back to sleep? So unfair. Did Master poison me in my sleep to make me more productive? That's something she'd do..."
I scratched my chin thoughtfully, as if I had any clue how poison worked. Just then—slide—the paper door creaked open with the subtle grace of doom.
I turned my head toward the door, eyes squinting. No footsteps. No voice. Just—
Lady Nozomi's head slowly peered in like a ghost in a horror movie, her long hair cascading forward, her smile unnervingly serene.
"Good morning, Llyne," she intoned, her voice soft but eerily haunting—as if she'd been rehearsing it in front of a haunted mirror.
My entire being short-circuited.
"GAH—!"
My eyes rolled back, limbs flopped, and I fainted on the spot, collapsing dramatically on my futon like a swooning maiden in a tragedy.
From the door, Lady Nozomi blinked once, unfazed.
"Oh dear," she mused. "Too early for jokes, I suppose."
Lady Nozomi entered my room like a whisper on the wind—graceful, quiet, and slightly ominous. She settled beside me with the poise of a noblewoman attending a tea ceremony, then reached into her seemingly bottomless sleeve and pulled out… a candle.
Without a word, she lit it.
I lay motionless for a beat, blinking groggily at the flickering light. Then my brain finally processed the scene.
I shot up like a spring-loaded puppet and screamed, "Ghost!"
Lady Nozomi tilted her head with a calm smile. "What ghost?"
"You! Who else?" I pointed at her dramatically, as if this were the climax of a ghost-hunting documentary.
Without warning, her hand shot out, and she grabbed my cheeks in a vice-like grip, smooshing my face into something resembling a steamed bun.
"I–I'm s-s-sorry…!" I wheezed, flailing as I attempted to pry her fingers off my skull.
She finally released me, and I sagged like a deflated balloon.
"It's rude," she said sweetly, "to curse someone to death first thing in the morning, Llyne."
"Then maybe don't role-play a ghost first thing in the morning," I mumbled, rubbing my face. "Just say 'hi' like a normal person…"
Apparently done with haunting, she changed the topic with her usual graceful menace. "Master Sylph wants you in her room."
"For what?" I yawned, already retreating under the covers like a turtle retreating into its shell.
"Why don't you ask her?" she said, ever-smiling.
"O...kay…" I mumbled, curling deeper into the futon.
Just as I shut my eyes and returned to my warm cocoon of sleep—
FWOOSH.
Lady Nozomi grabbed the edge of the quilt and flipped it skyward like she was performing a stage magic trick. I soared into the air in a graceful arc of flailing limbs and panicked screaming.
"AAAAACK—!"
BAAM! I landed face-first on the floor, a tragic starfish of defeat.
Lady Nozomi delicately laid the quilt over my flattened form like she was tucking in a corpse. "Now."
And with that, she turned and sashayed out of the room, humming a cheerful tune as if she hadn't just committed a low-level act of domestic terrorism.
Face still mashed to the floor, I groaned, "I swear that vixen hates me…"
I peeled myself off the floor with all the enthusiasm of a wet sock and staggered toward my clothes. "One day… I'll win."
Sliding open the door, I found Lady Nozomi already there—standing like she'd been rehearsing her dramatic entrance for hours.
"Wouldn't want you to get lost," she said, her smile equal parts charming and faintly threatening.
"Mmm…" I mumbled, brain lagging three seconds behind reality.
She raised a hand toward me.
Instinct kicked in—Incoming attack!—and I yelped, shielding my head for the inevitable Smack of Righteous Discipline.
Instead… rustling.
Shuffle, shuffle—sparkle.
Peeking through my arms, I found no bruises, no sudden headaches—just the quiet glint of a new outfit. My usual wrinkled tunic and baggy pants had vanished, replaced by something clean, pressed, and faintly shimmering like it had been blessed by a divine laundry spirit.
The fabric glittered so brightly, I was halfway convinced it could signal passing ships.
"…???"
Lady Nozomi adjusted a sleeve of her own with regal precision. "While you're in the House of Aum, you will present yourself properly."
I just stared, trying to work out whether this was magic… or if she had a squad of terrifying tailors stuffed up her sleeves.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and glided down the corridor, her steps silk-silent.
"Come along. Master Sylph is waiting."
I scratched the back of my head, still trying to figure out how she made baggy clothes sparkle like that. Probably magic. Or some terrifying tailors hiding in her sleeves. Who knows?
"…At this point, I'm too tired to care."
With a sleepy sigh, I trudged after her, wondering if Master was in a good enough mood to avoid turning me into a frog today.
We arrived at Master Sylph's room. As we stood before the grand, lacquered doors, Lady Nozomi knocked once—sharp, elegant—and announced, "We've arrived, Master."
A familiar voice responded, smooth and unbothered. "Come in."
The doors creaked open, and we stepped inside.
As always, Master Sylph sat by the window, her back straight, one hand delicately cradling a porcelain cup of tea. The morning light slanted through the curtains, catching wisps of steam curling upward from the cup. She looked perfectly at peace, savoring the aroma and silence as if she were part of the still life itself.
And then I entered.
I could practically hear the serenity pop like a soap bubble.
She was calm… until I showed up. 'Why does it feel like just my presence raises her blood pressure? Do I exude chaos? Is that my talent? Chaos aura? Great.'
Lady Nozomi, ever the picture of grace, gave a soft bow before gliding out of the room, silent as a shadow and twice as ghostly.
And then it was just me and Master Sylph. Her eyes slowly opened, locking onto me.
'Uh-oh. Here we go again.'
As soon as Lady Nozomi slipped soundlessly from the room, I launched myself into the nearest chair and grabbed the tea set in front of me like a pirate claiming treasure.
With a single gulp, I downed the entire cup. "Ahh! That hit the spot!"
Across from me, Master Sylph gently set her own teacup down with the grace of a swan—and then let out a long, weary sigh.
"What's wrong, Master? Who's giving you trouble?" I asked, cheerful as ever.
Her eyes slid to me with the weight of someone contemplating whether exile or execution was the kinder option. "I was merely reflecting on whether an etiquette course might do you some good."
I blinked. "What?"
"You know," she said with forced patience, "instruction in how to sit with dignity, how to speak with grace, and perhaps—how to drink tea without sounding like a dying ox."
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
She sighed again, glaring at me. "Then again, I would not wish such a trial on any unsuspecting instructor. They've committed no crime deserving of that fate."
Another sigh.
"Master," I said, leaning forward. "Did you know there's an old saying? 'Every time you sigh, you age by one year.'"
She narrowed her eyes at me. "I wonder whose fault that is."
"Definitely not mine." I smiled with all the pride of someone who just dodged a murder charge.
She just stared, long and hard, as if internally asking the heavens, 'Why did I put myself in such ordeal?'
Then, with a steadying breath and a sip of her tea, she composed herself. "Leaving that aside, that's not the main reason I called you here."
I slumped forward, cheek against the table. "What is it this time?"
"To congratulate you," she said evenly, "on completing fifty percent of your tests."
"...Only fifty percent?" My eyes twitched. "Oui... At this rate, I'll die from over-testing before any poison gets the chance."
"Don't be so dramatic. They're just tests," Master took another serene sip.
"Tests," I said flatly, "that have claimed an unknown number of lives. Some in their sleep."
Master Sylph didn't argue—just sipped again, probably wondering if I'd be next.
I ignored the look.