Faust hesitated at the doorway, then stepped aside with a lazy sweep of his arm.
"Come in fir..."
"Wait."
Galatea's voice cut clean through his.
"Where's Schrödinger?"
She leaned past him, eyes scanning the dim interior, already slipping inside like she owned the place.
Galatea was far from arrogant, but due to familiarity. Uriel and her were literally part of the Dantes.
Uriel trailed after her, shaking his head.
"Seriously?
Schrödinger?
You know she doesn't even like me."
"I can't be the only lady in this group,"
Galatea shot back without looking at him.
Uriel groaned, collapsed into the nearest chair, and muttered something about priorities.
"Oh right." Faust shut the door with a soft thud.
"Schrödinger. Totally forgot about her."
It wasn't a lie. He had forgotten again.
The Seventeen ceremony was exhausting, and neglecting Schrödinger was an old, shameful habit he had never felt guilty enough to fix.
By the time he caught up, Galatea was already pushing into his room.
A pale, ghostly blur shimmered into being on the floor like smoke deciding to pretend it had bones. The blur solidified into a gray cat, patterned with black diamond-shaped spots that seemed to shift when you looked too long. She lay sprawled on her belly, licking one paw in slow, queenly strokes.
"Schrödinger!" Galatea swooped in, scooping her up with the kind of tenderness Faust couldn't be bothered to imitate.
He walked over and rubbed his palm along her back. Schrödinger responded by pushing at his hand with an irritated paw, her tail twitching in contempt.
"I really forgot about you," Faust murmured. "Where've you been?"
Galatea's head whipped toward him.
"What! ?"
"Where has she been?"
The cat's golden eyes narrowed, and Faust swore she rolled them.
"She's probably starving."
"Probably," Faust agreed, entirely too calm about it.
As they headed out of the room, Galatea cradled Schrödinger like a fragile relic.
"You're a terrible pet owner, you know that? If she were one of those 'normal cats' from old myths, she'd be skin and bones by now. Dead, even."
Halfway to the kitchen, she stopped and turned back to him. Schrödinger's stare joined hers, doubling the judgment.
"Remember what I told you?" Galatea said. "She's only there if you're thinking about her. Forget her, and it's like she doesn't exist at all."
Faust didn't answer. He just scratched lazily at the back of his neck, as if that fact had never once troubled him.
Faust slipped into the kitchen while Galatea paraded Schrödinger toward the living room like a stolen jewel.
He grabbed a small bowl, filled it with milk, then dug out another. From a dented flask, he poured a thick, mushy paste ,brown streaked with black specks that looked exactly as appetizing, at least for an anima.
By the time he returned, Galatea was already on the couch, cooing at Schrödinger as if the cat were royalty. Faust set both bowls on the floor in front of her and sank into a chair beside Uriel.
The three of them watched.
Schrödinger gave the paste one disdainful shove with her paw before turning her full attention to the milk, licking with slow, deliberate elegance.
"As usual," Uriel muttered, "proud and picky."
Schrödinger, turned to Uriel with what seemed like dead eyes.
Uriel adjusted on his seat as if scared of her eyes.
Faust leaned back, unbothered. "Well that's Schrödinger."
"When we found her in the ruins, you were the one insisting on taking her home," Uriel said, settling deeper into his chair. "Even I treat my precious plants better than you treat your pet."
Galatea smirked. "You don't just take care of those plants,you worship them."
Uriel shot her a flat look but pressed on. "Anyway, it's said that 'normal' creatures in the old myths"
"I think they were called animals," Galatea cut in again.
"Right. Animals. Apparently, they could die if you didn't feed them or care for them. Especially domesticated ones like her." He nodded toward Schrödinger.
The anima froze mid-lick, turned her ghostly eyes on him, and hissed like he'd just insulted her ancestors.
Uriel held up both hands in surrender. "Good thing she's not an animal, huh? Those are just myths now."
"That's what the stories claim," Faust said, leaning back.
Uriel glanced back at Schrödinger, now ignoring him entirely. "Still, take care of her. Animas might not need food to survive, but care and a little something to eat keeps them lively."
Galatea said nothing. She was too busy watching Schrödinger's slow, elegant sips of milk, as though the cat were savoring a rare vintage.
"So, your metaphor,what is it?" Uriel asked.
Faust leaned back, answering with a sprinkle of pride.
"The Whispering One gifted me with the Metaphor. Why?"
Ignoring his unnecessary flair, Galatea and Uriel exchanged a quick glance, then said in unison, "Why?"
Galatea finally tore her focus from Schrödinger and fixed her eyes on Faust.
"Have you noticed anything yet? Anything strange urges, changes that could hint at what it does?"
Faust shook his head.
"What about your first spirit path? Heard any whispers describing it? That should at least give you a hint."
Another shake of the head.
Galatea looked to Uriel. "From the name, I'd guess it's centered on… questions?"
Uriel thought for a moment, then shrugged. "If you boil it down, yes. But what about your metaphor,Mirror? You're already on your second spirit path and haven't shown anything tied to mirrors or even reflection."
"Metaphors aren't always simple," Uriel said. "The Whispering One loves to be vague."
Uriel leaned forward. "Well, you know what to expect, sudden urges, odd behavioral changes… and, of course, the silence you worship."
Faust smirked.
If there was one thing they all knew about him, it was his obsession with gaining a metaphor that would finally quiet the raging whispers.
Galatea chuckled. "I still can't believe you're finally a branded."
"With time," Uriel added, "you'll catch up to us on the second spirit path."
"Speak for yourself," Faust shot back.
"We both know Galatea's family will speed her through the spirit paths. Noble Wisterio privilege, remember?"
Uriel coughed and changed the subject.
"What about your spirit gear?"
"My parents want me to rest before manifesting it," Faust said with a sigh.
"That can't be helped," Galatea replied. "But what about our club? Now that you've got your metaphor, you can finally join the Midnight Parade."
Faust's face lit up. He'd tried before and failed, for having no metaphor. This time would be different.
Uriel nodded. "It's about time."
Faust glanced at the clock on the wall,a regular twelve-hour face, but with two thin pipes jutting from top and bottom, releasing a puff of smoke with each tick.
It was 4:30pm now . His parents would be home by 6.
He bolted to his room, slipped on his gloves, and halfheartedly raked his fingers through his hair, ignoring the comb in plain sight.
Moments later, the three were outside. Faust locked the door, double-checked the windows.
"Asperbone Ridge habit?" Uriel asked.
"Yeah. Army ghosts." Faust made a face.
"Annoying little mosquito lesser spirits. My mom got sick last week when I forgot to close a window."
These lesser spirits loved to enter empty buildings, and like a squad of bandits, ambush the owners at night, sucking not their blood but their spirit energy.
Uriel and Galatea exchanged a curious look. Neither of them lived in Asperbone rigde.
Uriel was in Dunnvarrow, Galatea in the Nobel haven of Lowmere, where army ghosts were just a rumor, not a regular nuisance.
In essence Asperbone ridge was the slum of the Alderia empire especially when compared to the other 3 countries of the empire.
Moments later, the trio stood before the ghost train.
It earned the name not for superstition, but because its engine burned spirit energy. The exhaust howled in a low, mournful woooo instead of a cheerful choo-choo. Parents used to tell their kids the train carried away naughty children in the night.
Inside, as the train rolled past the Institute, Faust caught sight of the old barefoot woman from the Seventeen Ceremony. She sat by the window, face shadowed, staring straight back at him.
Just for a second, but he was sure of it.
"I'm not responsible for her condition," he muttered, scolding himself. He couldn't feel bad for finally gaining a metaphor.
The train screeched to a stop outside a building known as Derrick's Cave. Galatea paid the fare,three silver coins stamped with 100 on their faces, one for each of them. The currency wasn't true silver, but a rare alloy mined from the remains of a certain lesser spirit.
Faust scratched his head. "The club moved?"
Galatea smiled. "Of course not. We walk from here."
"What?! You paid three hundred silver for this short a trip? You could've just handed me the money and I'd meet you here!"
She chuckled. Faust didn't mind an easy route, but a hundred silver was a hundred silver. That was free money.
They headed out, passing Derrick's Cave, one of the most infamous bars in Alderia, well known even among the empire's elite.
Unfortunately, they also passed its dumpster, where a drunkard leaned over, retching into the gutter.
Galatea squinted and ducked behind Faust and Uriel. A glass bottle floated lazily at the man's side, his spirit gear swaying as he swayed.
"What a miserable spirit gear," Faust muttered as they walked on.
Past a garden, they turned left and arrived at a gate. It wasn't built to keep people out, it was for something else entirely.
The moment they stepped through, hooded figures turned to face them. Faust instinctively stepped back.
The group burst into laughter and pulled their hoods down.
A young girl with plaited hair approached Galatea, ignoring Faust and Uriel completely. "Good day, Lady Galatea. Who have you brought us this time?" Her gaze slid to Faust.
"He's Faust," Galatea replied. "My friend. You met him months ago."
"The one who came without a metaphor?"
"Yes," Galatea said.
"Well? Does he have one now?"
"Yes," Faust cut in before she could answer.
"I have a metaphor."
The girl's cat like eyes locked on his, her stare sharp enough to cut.
"What about his spirit gear?"
"Not yet," Galatea said, "but soon."
The woman turned away. "Then let's make 'soon' now."
She walked back, claiming the stage. Faust, Galatea, and Uriel followed.
Faust leaned toward his friends. "She wants me to manifest my spirit gear? ."
"Yes," the girl said without looking at them.
"Do that, and you're a full member of the club. Or hunt a lesser spirit and bring us proof.
"Prove to the Midnight Parade you belong with us. Spirit gear or the hunt. Your choice."