Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ratio was standing in front of the large casino.

The place seemed to be brimming with life before him, even outside he could hear the music coming from the interior and the sound of the slot machines. As the doctor adjusted one of the sleeves of his suit, he observed a man walk out, his shoulders shrugged, he had probably lost a fortune if his intuition was right.

Letting out a long sigh and making sure that everything on his appearance was in order, the man entered the place. From inside, the casino looked even more luxurious and extravagant.

Numerous crystal chandeliers decorated the carefully painted ceiling. The pillars with gold finishes extended through the hall before giving place to the lounge, full of people drinking, smoking, and betting their life savings. The scent of richness, alcohol, and tobacco stretched through the area, accompanied by the laughs of the patrons and the noise of poker chips being pushed to the center of the tables.

Ratio, mildly uncomfortable due to how unaccustomed he was to these kinds of environments, slowly made his way to the reception desk. There, a young woman with dyed hair smiled at him, before greeting him with the typical phrase that she had memorized when receiving clients:

“Welcome to the Golden Palace Casino, how may I help you tonight?”

The man carefully places his identification on the counter.

“I am Veritas Ratio, a representative of the Corporation, I have an appointment scheduled with Aventurine, the casino owner in about…” the doctor made a brief pause to check the clock on his left wrist. “Ten minutes.”

The woman’s smile vanished for a fraction of a second, before composing herself once again, taking the identification and using her free hand in order to search the holographic screen for information about the visitor. After thoroughly checking, she returned her gaze to the man in front of her.

Veritas Ratio.

The man possessed neatly coiffed purple hair, adorned with a wreath of golden laurels that circled his head and jutted on either side. His eyes, a strange combination of the colors of the sunset, rested on her, expectantly. His suit had shining ornaments that matched perfectly the metallic laurels on his hair and most strikingly, a facemask perched on his face, covering the features of his nose and mouth, just like in the picture of the ID that he previously gave to her.

The young woman nodded her head, standing up, momentarily leaving the desk and guiding him through the convoluted corridors, even having to ascend the stairs at some point until reaching a quieter section of the casino and, to the doctor’s surprise, much more elegant than the main hall.

Finally, after a brief amount of time, they made their way down the large corridor that led to a big wooden door.

“This is the owner’s office. Please, enter and make yourself comfortable, it won’t take long until his arrival.” The woman said, using some keys to open the door, inviting him inside before leaving him alone in the studio.

Ratio politely acknowledged the gesture before entering the office and looking around. The interior had an air of opulence. It was full of paintings, sculptures, and decorations that screamed the word “expensive.” The doctor walked towards the center of the place, observing the mahogany desk and leather armchairs in front of him. Sitting in one of the later ones, he noticed a peacock’s feather currently resting on top of the table, and turning his head, he could visualize a liquor storage by the window, filled with a variety of alcoholic beverages.

He waited and just as he was about to let his curiosity win in order to peek into the pantry, the door of the place opened wide. A young man with neatly kept blond hair entered, he had a superb smile on his features as he headed towards the desk, letting his fur coat hang on the coat rack at the entrance.

“Ah, doctor! It's nice to see you, I’ve been expecting you.” He said, moving gracefully across the room with a smug voice and an air of superiority. The scholar settled back on his chair, observing the man until he sat down in the armchair across the table in front of him, placing both of his elbows on the expensive wood and clasping his hands together.

Everything about the man in front of Ratio seemed striking, from his golden hair, the peacock earring dangling from his left ear, and his eyes, which had a tint of magenta and cyan, to the elegant aquamarine long-sleeved shirt with delicate hems that highlighted his figure. His vision was drawn to his arms, marked by blue veins that extended up to his forearms and were hidden in certain sections by beautiful peacock feathers.

“Mister Aventurine. It’s a… pleasure to finally meet you in person.” The doctor greeted with a serious and indifferent tone. At this, the blond seemed to smile even wider.

Aventurine was a name that had become very popular recently around Pierpoint. The man appeared one sudden day, on the bustling and most lavish street in the city, in a site coveted by many investors as the perfect place to make a fortune and installed the Golden Palace. In the blink of an eye, the place was brimming with people ready to earn some capital or degust the exquisite drinks at the bar.

The reason? The strange rule that surrounded the casino. The owner claimed upon opening that “everyone capable of beating him in a game of chance would instantly become the owner of the place.” Being such a highly sought and strategically located site, it wasn’t long before the place was conglomerated with people wanting to get their hands on the land.

And just as they arrived, one by one they were defeated in any kind of bet they made with the blond. Rumors didn’t take long to be spread, apparently, Aventurine- as he had presented to the public eye- belonged to an almost extinct species, the Cristatus. Apart from that, it seemed like he had been blessed with an extraordinary ability that permitted him to bend luck in his favor. All this gossip, added to the fact that after months the name affixed to the casino was the same, brought impressive popularity to the place.

“I was looking forward to this meeting,” the gambler replied, leaning back slightly on the leather chair.

“Finally, the IPC has sent me a representative and one of the best, it seems…” he paused, looking at Ratio. “I am honored.” He said, a tinge of hostility seeping into his tone, something that was not lost on the scholar.

The blond took the time to contemplate the man in front of him. Despite the facemask covering half of his face, he could still visualize the doctor’s marked features beneath it. He had informed himself properly before the meeting, the scholar had a vast amount of experience and extensive knowledge of his numerous fields of study which involved medicine, mathematics, engineering, and biosciences, just to mention some. In general, he had an intimidating aura around him, which was enhanced by the way he acted and spoke with certainty.

Ratio crossed his arms, warily glancing at the man.

“Do not worry Mister Aventurine. The Corporation does not have any kind of interest in investigating your casino or intervening with your business on Pier Point,” he assured. “They require a… collaboration of some sort. The IPC trusts that you possess certain intel regarding an upcoming case.”

The gambler tilted his head slightly to the side, a forming smile on his face as he leaned forward slightly, his arms now fully resting on the desk.

“And what kind of case is this? If I may ask.” The blond mentioned with a curious tone, his eyes being illuminated by the chandelier hanging above him.

“That is something I can’t mention yet unless you are willing to accept the terms of the Corporation.” Replied the scholar almost automatically.

This time Aventurine chuckled softly, rubbing the fingers of his right hand against his chin in a leisurely manner.

“Fair enough,” the shorter man intervened after some seconds of silence. “You are an innate negotiator, doctor. However, I would like to ask first for something in return.” Ratio nodded his head, waiting to hear the blond’s request.

“Would you mind playing a game with me first, doc?” he asked, pulling a deck of turquoise and black cards from his pants pocket, matching his own outfit. Subsequently, he spread them out on top of the mahogany table.

The other man raised an eyebrow questioningly, glancing at the deck and then at the gambler. “A game?”

“Blackjack, have you heard about it?” the blond responded, showing a playful gesture, taking the cards and beginning to shuffle them with great ability, even performing a few tricks in the process. Ratio’s eyes strayed to the cards being shuffled at a fast fashion. Of course, he knew Blackjack’s rules and he knew perfectly that competing with someone as Aventurine was not going to end up well for him.

“I certainly know the rules. What’s the bet?” He answered dryly, returning his gaze to the casino’s owner.

“We’ll play a few rounds.” His eyes fell on the doctor. “The loser has to provide useful information of the other’s choice, how’s that?” He explained, his tone seemingly serious, yet brimming with mischief.

The scholar pondered for a moment. From one side, he knew that winning against someone like the blond was impossible, not for anything his reputation had grown so abruptly as “the casino owner no one had ever been able to beat in a game of chance.” However, agreeing to his terms and being willing to play could make the blond more prone to accept the Corporation’s arrangement. After a long pondering silence, he nodded his head again, accepting. Aventurine’s smile simply widened.

“Excellent doctor,” the owner’s eyes lit up. “I will initially deal two cards for each of us. You are free to choose whether to take another card from the deck or stand. Afterward, I’ll do the same. Whoever comes closer to adding up twenty-one without going over this number wins the round.” The gambler intervened, distributing the first deck of cards face down.

Ratio took his cards, watching them carefully. He was a man of logic and strategy, something that perhaps, under these circumstances, could bring him a little bit of advantage in this game. His hand was made up of a queen and a seven, not bad for the first round, so he decided to leave it intact.

Aventurine, on the other hand, looked utterly relaxed, with a hint of satisfaction on his face, as if he already knew that he was going to win. Just like the scholar, he decided to maintain his initial deck.

“Shall we take a look at the cards, doc?” He said with a light, teasing tone. The representative took note of this before revealing his cards, adding up a total of seventeen. The gambler soon followed, revealing an ace and a ten, totaling a perfect twenty-one.

“Looks like I get to choose first.” He mentioned with a smug grin.

Ratio was preparing himself mentally for the usual questions regarding the IPC, the case to investigate, and the Corporation’s intentions to engage with someone like the casino owner, but instead, the last one said…

“Take off your facemask.”

The man looked at the blond surprised for a second, trying to figure out what was the purpose of such an unexpected and almost invasive request. The other one just returned his gaze undisguisedly, waiting, making it clear that he was not going to change his mind.

After a brief moment of silence, the doctor seemed to finally relent, aware that the blond was not going to retract his choice. Cautiously, his hands held the elastic cord of the mask, slowly pulling it away from his ears, and sliding it down his face. The sharp features that the gambler had previously noticed were exposed and just as he had suspected from the consistent use of his facemask, thin lines stretched across his facial features, from the corner of his lips to behind his ears, but not before creating small patterns that simulated fangs.

Aventurine studied the factions meticulously as if he was spotting every detail with great attention, memorizing and fortunately for the other man- not judging him on the process. The representative squirmed a little bit on his chair, slightly uncomfortable by the sudden interest.

“Quite the face you have there, doctor.” He mentioned, upon full examination, his saccharine smile never disappeared.

Ratio remained stern, providing the blond a severe gaze. Thinking back, with time, the stares directed at himself for his… unique factions have turned common in his day-to-day life. More than worrying about the opinions these might arouse in people; he found the attention rather annoying most of the time. So, for that reason, Ratio had grown used to using a facemask, trying to not attract the curiosity of those around him.

Fewer glances at him symbolized a greater ease at focusing on what was more important to him and this, in return, led to greater efficiency, something that the doctor profusely appreciated. Remembering this and not wanting the casino owner to start inquiring more about his appearance, he decided to intervene again.

“Can we proceed with the game?” The man let out a chuckle at his question, disposing of the cards on the table, followed by dealing two pairs again, not without previously shuffling the deck in his hand.

“Of course, doc. Don’t pay attention to me, I simply…. Enjoy appreciating subtle details.” Ratio observed the hands of the man, he could feel his eyes piercing through him, brimming with curiosity. Nevertheless, he decided to ignore him, establishing as a priority to be accommodating until the blond accepted the agreement.

Showing his hand once again, he revealed a nine and a six, adding up a total of fifteen. In contrast, Aventurine unveiled a pair of nines, crowning him as the winner once again, to the surprise of neither of the two presents in the office.

The owner leaned back on his chair once again, this time picking up a poker chip, and playing with it while he moved it between his fingers. The scholar tried to suppress a sigh considering the situation he was currently trapped in.

“You look a little moody, doctor.” Pointed the gambler again. The doctor’s expression remained serious and stoic despite the comment slightly riling him up. The other man’s arrogance was starting to become increasingly annoying. Instead, he decided to remain silent, waiting to see what the blond would demand on this occasion.

“Let’s see…” The gambler said, pretending to ponder about what to ask before looking back at the scholar with a naughty gesture, enjoying more and more every moment of this game he had proposed. “I think I know what to ask you, doc.”

He mentioned, without taking his eyes off the man sitting on the chair in front of him, exchanging a long stare that made Ratio feel exposed and more uncomfortable before musing. “What kind of species are you, doctor?”

The other man raised an eyebrow at the question, it appeared that Aventurine was more interested in finding out more about him over the deal that- fortunately- he was going to make with the Corporation. The representative paused for a second, he wasn’t used to people questioning his species, let alone in such… unusual circumstances. Of all the things he could have asked…

“I am an Arachnoeidés.” He answered flatly, after letting out a faint sigh. “A family characterized by several arachnid-like attributes, among which are…” He motioned in a general manner to the lines at the corners of his lips earlier revealed by the removal of his facemask. “These features are similar to chelicerae.”

The blond agreed with a smile, seemingly informed. “Oh, I am well aware of that doctor. Arachnoeidés are a fairly common group after all.” He brought a hand to his cheek, tilting his head slightly as if he were thinking about something specific. “But… What kind of Arachnoeidés are you?”

The scholar narrowed his eyes at the interrogation he was being subjected to. The casino owner seemed to have informed himself adequately before this meeting. “Those are two questions.” The taller man inquired.

“Ah, that’s correct… Would you like, then, to subject it to another round, doc?” Aventurine replied, ready to deal more cards.

This time, Ratio rolled his eyes, knowing the casino owner, he surely was going to win the next round and ask his question anyway. Thus, keeping his composure and voice steady, he answered once again.

“I belong to the Brachypelma genus.” He revealed with a slight pause, a hint of disgust seeping into his voice, that he didn’t like talking about this topic. In exchange, the gambler’s eyes opened a little bit more than usual, seems like he was not prepared for that answer.

“A Brachypelma?” He repeated with a smirk on his face. “Well, I must say they are a rather uncommon genus to find these days.” The blond leaned back on his chair, letting the poker chip rest on top of the desk.

“Cristatus are an exponentially scarcer species compared to the Brachypelma genus.” Ratio declared, referring to Aventurine. Cristatus… Individuals with peacock-esque characteristics, identified by the extravagant plumaged attached to their limbs, are nowadays endangered, not to say totally extinct except for the man in front on him.

The owner’s smirk intensified upon the doctor’s words. It was clear that Ratio had also researched before their encounter and that he partially knew about his species.

“Such a smart doctor!” The blond exclaimed; his tone impregnated with slyness. “I suppose that is true, Cristatus are quite a rarity these days due to… various circumstances.” He paused momentarily, acquiring a bolder demeanor. “You have informed yourself properly, doc.”

The representative remained silent, retaining his serious countenance. It seemed he knew how to play this game as well. Aventurine nodded, pleased by the man’s stance. “You are a very interesting person, Ratio.” He mused before rising from the chair, walking to the pantry located next to the window, filled with plenty of high-priced alcoholic beverages. “Do you prefer Gin or Whiskey, doctor?”

The man thoroughly examined the blond approaching the liquor storage with narrowed eyes. Blinking with a faint sense of wariness, trying to figure out what he had in mind. “None of the above. I am here to conduct business,” he mentioned with a cold voice. “And I never drink while I am working.”

The gambler simply laughed as he poured himself a drink and carried the bottle to the mahogany table, setting it down carefully on it in front of the other man as he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip without taking his eyes off him. Placing the drink on the desk, he grabbed the deck once again, carefully dealing the cards, as if he was eager to play another round.

This time, Ratio revealed his cards almost instantly. His hand was composed of a king and a queen, while the owner’s had gone over the maximum number allowed by drawing an additional card from the deck. Despite the victory and judging by the blond’s expression, the doctor could safely assume that he had lost on purpose. Nevertheless, he made use of the opportunity that had been given to him.

“Work for the IPC.” He demanded bluntly, there was not a trace of hesitation in his voice, his tone was straightforward and gave no room for confusing interpretations. The representative crossed his legs, his two hands intertwining above his knees.

Aventurine observed him intently, bringing the glass to his lips once more, remaining silent for a long moment before replying.

“Alright.” The man rose from his position, this time leaning towards Ratio, breaking the distance they had silently agreed upon each other starting the meeting, to the point of invading the taller man’s personal space. “…. However, I have two requests, doctor.” He whispered, snatching two cards from the deck, flipping them over on top of the table. The scholar looked at his hand, which held an ace and a ten, once again the blond had obtained a twenty-one.

“The first one… Swear to me, Ratio, that the Corporation won’t lay a finger on this casino.” The cyan and magenta from his eyes seemed to land upon him, judging every tiny movement he made. And, despite everything, the representative remained serene in place, assenting confidently with his head.

“That is something I can fully promise. The IPC will not interfere in any matters related to the casino.”

“Perfect, doc. The second request…” He started to talk, his hand tracing the borders of the cards on the table. “Is that I request the IPC to work with you on this case. I’m sure the higher-ups will find this as beneficial as I do, will they not?”

The man’s face remained peaceful, though inwardly he let out a groan of annoyance at the petition. He was now sure that the other one was just looking forward to wearing him out. “I suppose so.” He said in a voice tainted with reluctance. “Nonetheless, the final decision does not lie with me. It will be up to the board to decide whether or not to accept your request.”

This time the owner barked out a laugh out loud. “I know they will accept my offer. I expect you, doc, to tell them about the details of this meeting.”

Ratio gritted his teeth, irritated, well aware that the gambler was right. The board would most likely be willing to accept his offer as long as he worked with the Corporation.

“Of course. I will make sure to provide all the information required.”

Aventurine raised his glass to his mouth again with a cheeky grin, his drink tasting sweeter than ever. “It’s such a shame to end the game so soon; I’m sure I would have won the next round.” He declared.

“I am sure you would.” The scholar answered after releasing an incredulous huff in response to the other man’s arrogance. It was obvious he liked mental games and confused him. Worst of all, he was infuriatingly good at it.

The doctor grabbed the facemask, situating it back on his face and shielding his features from the outer world, as he was already accustomed to. The two of them stood up, shaking his hands in a polite gesture.

“I look forward to working with you, doc~” The representative felt his patience slowly approaching its end while resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he nodded before walking out of the office with slow steps.

Upon arriving in the luxurious hallway, Ratio let out a long and tired sigh, massaging his temples. Dealing with the casino owner had been an ordeal, to say the least. The blond was cocky, arrogant and he clearly liked playing games with his unsuspected victims. The doctor took a moment to breathe deeply, going over everything that had happened in these forty minutes of the meeting that felt like an eternity… Evidently, he now had a report to prepare.

Chapter Text

He could observe his footsteps on top of the desert accompanied by a distant figure being hugged by the current sandstorm. The silhouette had its gaze focused on him, scrutinizing him, judging him quietly yet with a ferocious spirit. The heat assimilated to what he could only describe as the flames of hell. Perhaps he had never been to the underworld, but he figured that if he ever perished and awakened in such a place, it would feel like home.

The whispers of the people around him never seemed to stop. No one chatted with strangers, he wasn’t allowed to do so either. He never considered the children constantly playing around him as his friends, never interacted with anyone else and he barely got to use his voice to speak with another person. Maybe he only had one friend whom he could trust, and he prayed for Gaiathra to bless them for a little while longer.

On the more prosperous evenings, the scent of eucalypt impregnated the air, and the food, scarce and insipid, sat on top of the chipboard table, waiting to be devoured by those currently alive and present.

Gold.

When he was a young child, he wondered if his tears were made of gold. If so, that would explain why they cost so much.

Gold.

Perhaps he could cut his hair and sell the blond locks so he could see his mother and father smile one more day.

Gold.

The same color as the coin he held in his hand, shining and precious.

Inhaling a deep breath of air he roused.

He hated having the same dreams every night. He detested waking up covered in sweat, looking around the darkness of his room that threatened to swallow him whole in one huge gulp, munching his bones and spitting out whatever residuum of him- the actual undesirable him- no one dared to take back. As well, he abhorred being forced to spend the remains of his vigil wide awake with the sounds of past voices coming from his dreams pounding onto his head. Maybe and just maybe, one day his tears could provide him something better and greater than mere cash.

Veritas opened his eyes, hearing the sound of the alarm blaring from his cellphone; a strange and unexplainably cheerful tone that had mixed on its melody a variety of noises that resembled ducks and several other birds, in order to start the day impeccably, of course.

With a somewhat sluggish gesture, he slipped his finger through the device’s screen, turning off the alarm before properly settling down on the bed, the soft and fluffy sheets making contact with his skin, supplying a sense of coziness. Passing a hand through his wavy hair, he noticed that- per usual- it was rather disheveled, spreading out in several directions, showcasing a messier façade of himself.

The doctor let out a long sigh before analyzing his own room. The space was arranged in such a way that it felt almost unnatural, every nearby object was perfectly set in place, there was not a single particle of dust on any surface and everything seemed to have a reason to exist and lie in the place that the scholar had previously assigned. Even the smallest details such as the position of the pillows or how much lighting was able to filter into the room through the silken curtains appeared to be controlled and carefully considered in advance.

What to others might be perceived as an intimidating area due to the extensive purpose of all the items present, for him it was pleasant. Actually… It wasn’t exactly because he considered himself a compulsive individual for tidiness. Indeed, he enjoyed it, but he had to admit that this whole disposition had come from something as simple as boredom and the feeling of seclusion his home conveyed to him.

Letting out a soft yawn, he inquired once again. Nothing that a nice session of cleaning could not solve… “Yes, a bath sounds quite enjoyable right now,” he thought, nodding his head along with a gentle smile starting to form on his lips.

Gingerly getting up from bed while fixing his robe, he made his way towards the bathroom, turning on the strategically placed lights on the ceiling with the intent of creating a hospitable place that welcomed him starting his delicately planned routine and finishing his draining workday.

Veritas looked at the mirror in front of himself, taking a small amount of time so as to appreciate his own figure and factions. Something rather… peculiar, compared to what he was normally used to doing. The scholar tilted his head slightly, his reflection performing the same movement as it looked back with a serious yet curious expression. The dawn replicated by the contrary eyes appeared to quietly ask the justification for such an unusual pause in his daily schedule.

The doctor merely puffed out a low breath, studying the thin lines that extended from the corners of his lips to behind his ears before forgetting about the brief distraction, stepping away from the mirror and proceeding to prepare the bathtub, not without forgetting to delicately place the bath bomb and his rubber ducky (Mister Nereus, as he had personally baptized him) over the warm water, from which a smooth and soothing steam was being released.

Ratio closed his eyes, letting himself be engulfed by the relaxing sensation of the water caressing his skin, the silence supplying a sense of company to this peaceful moment. His thoughts started to flow, wandering through the latest events that had occurred at the Corporation and the straight-up bizarre situation he now found himself in along with this fellow, the owner of the Golden Palace… Aventurine- his brain probed, - someone with whom, apparently, he was going to work with on the next case assigned to him.

The purple-haired man sighed, sinking deeper into the tub, his eyebrows moving leisurely to form a frown at the prospect. Indeed, just as the blond had stated prior to the end of the meeting, the board had not only accepted his request of collaboration at the expense of keeping the doctor company, but they had shown themselves a tad too excited at the thought as usual, fully aware that the presence of the owner was going to facilitate the investigation to a large extent and that this would open the door to future negotiations.

Ratio grumbled under his breath over the sheer fact that he was going to be forced to deal with the shorter man’s shenanigans. He guessed that, the faster he resolved this situation, the better it would be and the fewer worries he was going to face. He still managed to recall that fateful day an email was sent and left in his inbox, providing the specifics of the case. What started for him as a simple negotiation of a job he was thankfully not going to intervene with, ended up being… Whatever this is.

Upon finishing his bath and after meticulously tidying himself up, ensuring that his image was in proper place and his breakfast contained the necessary quantity of nutrients; he sat down on the chair located in front of his desk, checking his mail before leaving his apartment to start his work in Veritas Prime as a professor. There wasn’t anything that drew his focus particularly other than some intel of the operation he was going to be conducting at the Corporation.

Rummaging through the spam as well, he realized there were two unread messages. With a rather annoyed expression, he decided to check on them anyway. The first one came from a tabloid magazine that- somehow- ended up in his mail. The subject line had written something like “Read here all the hot news about famous peer on Pier Point!” Just out of curiosity, Ratio scrolled down past the headlines obviously designed to grab the reader’s interest until he stumbled into one in particular. “Is the doctor Veritas Ratio not a member of the Genius Society? Learn more here!” Rolling his eyes, he deleted the email, already tired of this recurring conversation theme coming back to him no matter where he went.

The other message was from some days ago. He did not recognize the sender. Perhaps he should really be more careful with the kind of websites he authorized to send him information. When he opened the email, however, he found himself face to face with a strange text.

“Dear doctor!”

Ratio felt a headache starting to form just by reading the first phrase.

“I have personally requested the Corporation for a means of communication to keep in contact for our ‘work’ and in response, they have facilitated me this email. Great, isn’t it?”

The words were accompanied by the sticker of a creature similar to a ghost with sunglasses next to them.

“I consider it highly beneficial to converse some details of this mission. It would be fitting to receive confirmation from you, dear doctor, that this message was received. Please let me know if this email was correctly sent! Best regards, Aventurine – Owner of the Golden Palace Casino.”

Ratio checked the date of dispatch once again.

Four days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven seconds. The doctor shrugged slightly before answering with a heartfelt, meaningful, significant, and very expressive “Received. Sincerely, Dr. Veritas Ratio.”

Thus, proud of his polite and gracious reply, he proceeded to continue with his routine. After all, he couldn’t afford the interruption of the customary course of his day, not when he had so many duties to perform.

The doctor took a seat on one of the stools situated at the bar. The profound and vibrant music thundered on the walls of the place, and the neon-colored lights, which still weren’t sufficient to proportionate at least a minimally suitable illumination, seemed to call him to the bustling dance floor. In this one, numerous shadows of bodies could be found swaying slowly to the music’s melody. The alcohol flowed through the hands of those present and one could even hear laughter and voices mixed in between the extremely out-of-tune singing of the current popular son that had been played, creating a very palpable and heavy atmosphere.

Despite everything, the scholar limited himself to readjusting the facemask placed on his face, shrinking in his seat, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone passing by, and ignoring the existence of the voices and bodies around him altogether. His wreath of golden laurels had been left long forgotten at home, and instead, a grayish ivy cap sat perched on his head in a somewhat careless attempt to hide his flashy purple hair and avoid recognition.

A few minutes passed by in this manner, Ratio, sitting on the stool, scrutinizing the wooden table of the bar with such an intensity that someone else would come to the conclusion that it was revealing to him the secrets of the universe… Or perhaps that he was a drunk man trying his best attempt to control the distinctive nausea that came after a prolonged session of alcohol consumption. Most possibly the last one.

The man remained static in this position until the frantic tune came to an end. In an abrupt change of style, a smooth ballad began to resonate, conceiving a mystical and sentimental ambiance. Instantly, the area acquired a more amenable tonality to the sight, with blueish colors and a prominent presence of lilac. The agitated shadows gathered, intertwining with each other, dancing calmly to the melody’s compass. Nevertheless, Ratio did not look away from the brown color of the wood.

A woman gradually approached him, she had an aura that seemed to loosen the atmosphere around her and, without asking for any sort of permission, sat down next to the scholar.

“Doctor.”

She said with a soft and melodious voice, the words being spoken soothingly and with a hint of contemplation. It was at that moment that Ratio decided to raise his head, the reddish pigment simulating the sunset in his eyes intercepted the violet ochre of the opposite gaze, partially hidden by a veil that extended through the woman’s countenance. Her smile was serene and her expression facilitated the impression that she knew more than what was visible to mere sight.

“Black Swan.”

The man replied courteously, his voice slightly distorted by the mask. There was a momentary pause between the two of them, unforeseen, yet not awkward at all.

The woman with extensive lilac hair was wearing a long, graceful dress of violet hues, the presence of the black lace on it seemed to attract attention to the accessories that resembled stained glass windows meticulously placed in the outfit. A long belt with silver accents wrapped around her waist and at a certain point the veil on her head adorned with shards of crystals seemed to blend with the attire’s fabric on its ends. Her smile widened in response to the doctor’s greeting.

“Such a beautiful evening you decided to call me.” She replicated before ordering a drink from the menu with a gentle movement of her glove-covered hand that displayed the same amount of finesse as her clothes. Ratio did not answer, in contrast, he repositioned himself back on the chair, keeping his back straight and his classical air of pride.

“I perceive you have a lot of questions in your mind, doctor. Perhaps I could be of help.” The woman stated, keeping a peaceful tone of voice.

“Aventurine, the owner of the Golden Palace casino. Have you heard anything about him?” The erudite asked frankly and bluntly, holding his gaze on the pensive and clearly feigned expression on Black Swan's face.

“It’s not common of you to inquire about other people, what is it about him that draws your attention?” The refined woman articulated, grabbing the glass with her hand before taking a prolonged sip from the straw.

“The Corporation requires his cooperation with a certain case.” The man said with a serious and stoic intonation. “I have a programmed meeting with Aventurine, the owner, in the upcoming days. Regardless, I seem to not fully understand the reason why the IPC would seek the cooperation of such an individual… Likewise, it’s a protocol measure to conduct a preliminary investigation about future co-participants the Corporation plans to work with.” Ratio revealed with a faintly frustrated voice.

Black Swan tilted her head to the side slightly, her demeanor relaxed despite the scholar’s apprehension. “It seems like you have not been able to gather enough information on your own.” She expressed, to which he only answered with a silence. “It appears that you have been searching for enough time to notice that the young owner is not a figure well-known for his public life.”

The doctor nodded his head. “That is indeed true, it has not been possible to uncover more intel apart from the rumors already circulating among Pier Point individuals and some magazine headlines of extremely questionable nature.” He retorted, reminiscing about his unsuccessful search sessions. It was as if the man had just materialized from thin vapor air, no matter how much he searched, he only ended up coming up with more questions and reaching dead ends.

As a last resort, he opted to turn to Black Swan, a woman who could definitely grant him some useful knowledge. Although it was going to be paired with several conundrums due to the very manner in which she expressed herself, apart from one or other favor waiting to be fulfilled related to his own memories, an exchange that Ratio was not appealed by and never found remarkably endearing, with the man always opting to avoid the majority of the time.

“I understand. Yes, it’s presumable I could possess information of someone as enigmatic as the young gambler.” Expressed the diviner, taking a cheerful sip from her beverage. “He is quite the ostentatious person, I think it will be useful to know, doctor, that certain whispers are spreading around the quieter alleyways of Pier Point about his ability.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her words, subtly nodding, indicating her to continue.

“You must already hear that the young owner’s ability is connected with his luck. Yet, there are… certain persons who claim this is nothing but a carefully crafted act prepared by himself.” Ratio sustained his eyesight on her with great regard. Black Swan limited herself to let out a soft giggle in return. “They argue that his real skill is tied to insight and not related to pure luck or a blessing.”

“That is merely implausible. If that were the case, the casino would have changed the name associated with its property deed an estimated quantity of time ago.” Sentenced the scholar with a severe tone, the woman with lilac locks made a sound of approval in response.

“I, myself, remain unaware of the exact truthfulness of those gossips.” She said directing her eyes to the establishment's ceiling, the ballad had been postponed in favor of letting an unprecedented tune flood the dance floor. “But… I may simply state that, as much as I consider the Eon’s immense prowess and THEIR monstrous quantity of divine attainments, there is even a limitation to how much THEY could elevate a human. This reserved peacock must not be the exception.”

Ratio let out a sigh at Black Swan’s remark. Even if such stories were indeed accurate or not, their relevance had very little- for not saying nothing to do- to the knowledge necessary to the IPC.

“You know, doctor? Long ago I had the privilege of sharing a chat with a young girl who possessed golden locks and captivating eyes, a distinctive attribute belonging to the Cristatus.” The diviner mentioned with a sober demeanor. “She mentioned that her people worshipped a goddess named Gaiathra, the girl narrated to me the feats and tales of this deity, explaining how much it meant to her and her people, even asking me to shelter the precious wisdom behind their traditions and culture with my very own ability.”

“Then, you must also be aware that the concept of Gaiathra is currently disregarded, long ago substituted by the Aeons.” The scholar mused. The woman did not argue back, purely staring at the roof on which the blueish highlights of the ballroom and some special effects that shifted haphazardly and asynchronously, hinting at the fact that the tumultuous vibe of the bar was starting to be retaken once again.

“Tell me, doctor. In the absence of a god whom you could turn back for solace… To which other entity of purpose for existence would you wish to cast your gaze upon?” Black Swan clutched the glass in her hands, drawing invisible circles in the air with this one.

“Gaiathra is no more of an inception to us, just as the Eons may become but a mirage to the future species and generations that even dared to step on this desolate, vacant, and inhospitable universe.” The diviner paused for a short, yet excruciating moment to drink before continuing. “If, and only if the providence shows me THEIR back, I deeply long to think that my hands would grasp, claw, and stretch until I finally find a fundamental reason to continue my existence. Perhaps this notion could assist you in trying to understand the young casino’s owner.”

Ratio absorbed her words with rapt attentiveness as the woman rose from her seat. “Unfortunately, this is not the sort of information the Corporation is interested in obtaining.” Clarified the scholar solemnly, albeit with a tinge of disappointment seeping from him.

“While that is correct, maybe that is the path your intuition clamors to comprehend, doctor.” The woman mentioned, simultaneously, the corners of the veil in her head started to wave slightly. She returned her glance for one last time before speaking. “After all, memories are seeds from the past and will be reborn in the future.”

Therewith, Black Swan seemed to vanish in an instant on the air. As soon as she disappeared, the passionate tune playing in the distance passed away, the rampant melody once again taking hold of Ratio’s ears. In the meantime, the shadows in the bar began to increase their pitch of voice and resumed their party, rejoicing in laughter and cheers.

The doctor heaved a breath, leaving a bill on top of the bar table as he stood up from his seat, and made his way towards the exit.

The man with golden locks crossed the threshold of the penthouse, dragging his feet as he felt his body and being exerting extensive pressure on him. As he opened the door, the cold brightness coming from the hallway glinted off the expensive wooden floor, outlining his hunched and exhausted figure. The gambler dropped the suitcase filled with money on the floor, the latter producing a dull thud.

He did not even try to turn on the lights in the room, clinging instead to the door frame, his back pressing against the entrance until the radiance transformed into a blinding darkness that he had already grown used to. In the end, it was all a matter of habits, he guessed.

As he crept across the corridor, an exasperating sentiment of abandonment seized him. With every step he took, he felt invisible palms attempting to stop him, clawing onto his skin, trying to grasp the gorgeous peacock feathers on his arms just to tear them out without any hesitation.

His lips parted, but no sound came out from them. He acknowledged, in return, that not even a murmur would succeed to slip from them, even if he desired it. Once more, his eyes, colored by magenta and cyan explored the space around him, the contours of the lavish furniture on his residence scantily discernible.

Followed by a gulp of air, the man proceeded with his walk until he stepped inside his chamber, slumping onto the warm, plush, and empty bed. Staring at the ceiling for a couple of seconds.

His brain was vacant and drained in such a manner that left him to experience a hollow feeling throughout his entire frame. He yearned to grab tiny scraps of cotton to carefully pile them up in his mind, squeezing and crumpling them to the point beyond which he would not need to bother anymore.

Early morning. The commonly bustling streets of Pier Point were nearly deserted except for a few dozen people wandering around aimlessly. The silence was kind of… disturbing to him. Totally out of place for such a colorful and buzzing area. The ambiance was still foreign to him despite being forced to relive every dawn the usual monotonous routine.

The silence stretched over his bedroom again before a high-pitched noise came from his phone. Checking on it, he could determine it was a weather notification, announcing that heavy rain was forecast for the afternoon hours and advising him to carry an umbrella with him.

Profoundly exhaling, the man resumed perusing the cumulated messages during his time at the Golden Palace. “Nothing especially worthy of my time,” he thought, uttering a dismissive sound. However, among the chaos of advertisements and promotions, he managed to pinpoint a particular one that stood out from the rest.

It was an e-mail, that had been delivered by Doctor Ratio himself, the scholar he was going to be collaborating with in the near future. All of this with the purpose of solving an IPC-related case… Aventurine tried to recall what had occurred in the meeting he had with the man, nevertheless, the blond figured that at the end of it all, the representative didn't elaborate precisely on the details about what they were going to be researching… Furthermore, he had focused so much on the card game that he forgot to properly ask.

Performing a gesture of detachment, he assumed it didn’t matter that much. Thankfully, a couple of days ago, he had contacted the Corporation for an appropriate means of communication. The gambler opened the doctor's belated message, a fairly dry and short mail with the word “received” followed by his professional titles. There was not even a trace of a formal greeting and the subject line was exactly the same as the text’s body, the expression “received.”

The blond huffed due to the unremarkable statement in front of his piercing magenta and cyan eyes, the oversimplified content being displayed on his black pupils, rapidly dashing onto his skull, now occupied at the corners by a thin layer of wool.

Veritas Ratio…

His brow creased lightly as he reminisced about their past encounter. A Brachypelma, wasn't he? Perhaps if he probed a bit, the blond might be capable of gaining more insight from the scholar apart from what his assistants were capable of proportionating. Still, right now, it seemed to be the best option of entertainment he currently had available at this late hour, given the absence of sound derived from the slot machine and the lack of the common taste of Whiskey on his tongue and lips.

Closing the e-mail app on his phone with light taps on the screen, he immediately headed to the browser, and after some deliberation, he opted to just write Ratio’s name into the search bar, intending to catalog the data that came to the surface from typing it in.

Instantly, a huge quantity of articles was flashed before his scrutinizing gaze. The first few were apparently from various news outlets, highlighting one or another research conducted by the scholar without actually providing personal information about the purple-haired man. No interviews either, as far as he contemplated.

After briefly reading the initial section, on the other hand, he came across a plethora of news that had… very dubious veracity in spite of narrating the doctor’s origins and life experiences. The proportion was quite decent and judging by what the blond had accomplished to read, they utterly contradicted each other.

As a matter of fact, it was almost extraordinary to find two of those that didn’t refute each other to the point that it looked like the only single thing they matched had to do with his name and the total number of doctorates in the possession of the Corporation's representative.

Nothing in regards to his species or ability, the sole analogous thing of public knowledge was the fact that some sites stated he was an Arachnoeidés, and even with all that, the percentage of pages debunking this notion was extensive. In other words… A major conundrum with nothing useful to be learned from.

Right when the gambler pretended to close the explorer, labeling this pause as an “enormous waste of time” he discovered in the display of the suggested articles a freshly published one. It had a headline that read “Is the doctor Veritas Ratio not a member of the Genius Society?”

The Genius Society… They were a tremendously popular and respected faction. Even one such as Aventurine, who was not even minimally involved in the scientific field, had already heard about them and recognized them. Just for the sake of curiosity, he decided to skim the text.

Generally speaking, there were allusions to certain accomplishments made by the doctor, coupled with some baseless speculations about the man's dismissal from the Society. Nothing reported in it seemed to be serious enough and the title served the ambition of luring unsuspecting readers, a regrettable strategy in which the casino owner had fallen without much effort.

The blond mentally reprimanded himself for being a victim of such a discernible practice in the name of gathering factual data about his future co-worker. Although his search ended up being in vain, he headed to the comments of the post. That’s how he could distinguish he wasn’t the only one fooled. The users justified and emphasized the lack of quality from the text, not even counting that the title had an absent connection to the content.

Aventurine could read this, summed up to an insignificant debate that emerged in the comment section due to the poorly stated theory made by the writer.

“It’s difficult for me to imagine that someone like Dr. Ratio is not a proper member of the Genius Society. While it is accurate to assume that intel tied to the affiliates is scarce and hidden from us, common folks, it wouldn’t surprise me he hasn't been willing to confirm anything because of this.”

Mentioned the first reply, followed by a lengthy list of similar arguments and users who agreed with this conviction. Still, there were some skeptic ones who questioned the thought.

“If we compare the achievements Ratio has obtained with the ones of the so-considered ‘genius’ from this era, they may come to be seen as lacking…”

“The man has a research project for every PhD he has and he was able to solve several crises from this era, what the hell do you mean by lacking?!”

“What the comment above says it’s true, I doubt it’s due to a deficit of talent, but the situation is somewhat strange.”

“You’re in an entirely different universe, of course, someone like him has been a part of the society since long ago!”

And that’s how the gambler dedicated the next half an hour to skim through the discussion threads made by the users. In certain moments, he found himself chuckling at the crazy claims they imparted. Amazingly, internet fans were more skilled at uncovering specifics about the doctor than any website seeking to gain traction on the basis of his reputation. For some curious reason, he was not amazed by this.

When he deemed himself satisfied, he put the phone aside, letting it recharge on the bedside table. The darkness from the place came back, however, it was no longer uncomfortable and discouraging. The intense atmosphere had altered into an engaging browsing session, watching persons dispute to see who had the correct speculation about the conversation topic.

Aventurine snickered lowly at the notion that he had spent the last thirty minutes in such a manner. What a stupid debate, did it matter that much whether or not he belonged to a fraction of smart individuals with no regard for the ephemerality of those around them?

Closing his eyes, unwilling to delve any further, the man with golden locks let himself be consumed by his recollection and eventually weariness from the day. Tonight, his dreams were tinted in gray, easily forgotten between the sheets impregnated with a strong and costly perfume of luxurious metallic aromas and sumptuous flowers.

Chapter Text

Hollow.

He sensed a wrenching hollowness seize him, transforming his body into a weight to bear. Plumbeous, impossible to lift nor move. He swore that if he placed a hand on top of his chest, it would pierce through him without hesitation.

Fragile, feeble, decaying.

His heart was beating so slowly that for a second, he wondered if it was still functioning, if it really was there, with him, inside his chest.

Hundreds of notes hung all over his office, thousands of letters written on them, accompanying him. And, even so, he felt such an emptiness slowly enveloping him… Similar to a snake leisurely and painfully constricting its prey, just enough to concern him, not enough to suffocate him.

Veritas rested his palm over his torso, silently observing the way it brushed against the fabric of his sweater, each fiber grasping his hand and tugging at it, the uncomfortable texture of the wool causing a shiver to tingle deep within him. Clearly, he wasn’t remotely capable of sinking his hand against his thorax; the idea was simply foolish and groundless, a time in which reality became clouded by his own apparent lack of judgment.

The man… The being raised his head slightly, a mechanically typed correspondence rested meticulously atop the neatly painted spruce table, currently overflowing with documents, scribbled papers, dying pens, and carelessly crumpled sheets, thick with meaningless ideas and unfinished schemes.

The place was a complete disaster in every sense of the word. However, the greatest disaster of all was the paper letter sitting on top of his desk. The addressee was plainly spelled right across the envelope, with no opportunity to spare the doubt or let the question regarding the origins of the card arise.

“Interastral Peace Corporation.”

The printed letters on the white sheet of paper declared, almost mocking him.

Veritas regarded the sticky notes dangling from the walls, from the table, and from every place his gaze dared to rest on. After some silent seconds, his eyes, reminiscent of the sunset, drifted back to the envelope.

With a gentle movement, he grabbed it, his hands accounting for the texture of the paper. Making use of a silver letter opener he always maintained on his bureau, the doctor opened it, reading its contents with calmness and quietness, one that it didn’t deserve.

“To the estimated Doctor Veritas Ratio,

It is widely recognized that the Interastral Peace Corporation has existed for a considerable number of eras; after all, the fundamental human instinct to preserve memories and space is crucial for the development of life and civilizations. Likewise, we believe in the arduous labor and fulfillment of our objective, the complete guarantee of the conservation and absolute protection of the utmost value to ever subsist, the preservation of the universe, of our individuals. For this precise motive, given your distinguished achievements in various scientific fields along with your most recent invention and research, the Corporation wishes to extend to you a cordial invitation to a scheduled meeting with our staff.

Doctor, your discoveries have proven to be of great assistance and inspiration to our Organization. We desire, as you do, to benefit from your knowledge and employ it in order to accomplish our goal of transforming the cosmos into a suitable and prosperous place. Please contact us as soon as you receive this correspondence by contacting the Corporation's offices and/or sending a confirmation to our e-mail address attached below.

All for the Amber Lord.

Interastral Peace Corporation (IPC).
For more information, contact our private service line below.”

Ratio stopped reading the letter and without a second thought, he crumpled it between his hands as tightly as he could, until it looked no more and just no more than the insignificant piece of paper it truly was. The man let out a grim sigh, followed by a faint depressed and self-deprecating laugh, pondering and replaying in his brain over and over again the sentence: what shall I do now?

Thus, it transpired that four days later, the doctor found himself dressed in a fine, elegant suit and tie, adjusting it with the highest level of care as he patiently waited for the receptionist to tell him which way he was supposed to go for the scheduled meeting.

His gathering of information about the owner of the Golden Palace casino had produced its respective results. Despite the fact that the scholar turned out to be unable to acquire concrete data about the blond, his previous conversation with Black Swan had made him change his approach of inquiry and, consequently, a precise method of investigating the reliability of the Cristatus.

In the following days, their first appointment took place. A moderately profitable encounter, according to his own criteria, in which they had agreed on the collaboration of the gambler after the respective deliberation of the board. Now, after thoroughly exchanging details by e-mail, the two men agreed to initiate the investigation of the case on this very day.

On this very day... Ratio recalled with a sigh.

On this occasion, the exotic alarm echoing through the apartment bedroom lasted a few seconds longer than usual. Upon the first repetition of noises corresponding to ducks and various birds flooding the place, the doctor took the phone in his hands, turning it off before cautiously and quietly rising from his bed.

The schedule was straightforward. Take a shower, eat a proper breakfast, check his email (hoping, fortunately, to find a cancellation notice from the blond that - no matter how much he wanted to convince himself - would not appear), teach the early morning classes at the University of Veritas Prime and then head to the IPC establishment, where he would encounter the owner at the entrance of this very place.

As he sat in the bathtub, just after placing the most soothingly scented bath bomb from his collection, the doctor shut his eyes, gradually sinking into the hot water, letting the steam take effect on his skin.

Initially, the Institution had its reservations due to the ongoing nature of the case. Ratio did not judge them. Ultimately, if there was one thing the Organization did moderately well, it was to be cautious about whom they chose to work with.

Allowing a thoughtful murmur to slip past his lips, the doctor delved into the available facts. The task at hand had the initial impression of being a simplistic one upon a quick, cursory glance. The story was not particularly flashy, nor did its victims have any striking qualities, such as belonging to the elite or being associated with the IPC.

The case's documentation provided the upcoming details, describing it as follows. Over the course of what the Institution has referred to as a three-year span, a specific quantity of individuals started vanishing from Pier Point. The number of missing persons was moderately significant, just the right proportion to attract the Corporation's attention, and yet, a perfect cipher for online news media to not report concerning the topic.

Are there any common features shared by the victims? Ratio grimaced at the thought. No, none, absolutely nothing alike between them. This was precisely the reason making this mission exceptionally perplexing. The first theory put forward was the existence of some connection among the individuals, be it age, gender, species, or other. Still, there is no initiative regarding this.

Subsequently, the most popular possibility was the one that assessed, due to a more thorough examination, that a certain dimension of those listed were clients of the Golden Palace Casino. From this point onward, the IPC started to grow suspicious of the involvement of the owner, Aventurine, and chose to monitor him from a further distance.

Yet... The young man's past was non-existent, even for an Organization as formidable and imposing as the IPC. No matter who was momentarily in charge of the pursuit, no one, not even Doctor Ratio himself, who would later be entrusted with the task of analyzing the gambler, was capable of unraveling some kind of miraculous disclosure.

A shift in approach was demanded and from this, it became apparent the quantity of missing persons who were themselves patrons at the casino was... indeed scarce. Yes, it was an admittedly significant sum at first, however, taking into consideration that the majority had been one-time customers, the observation of the victims not exhibiting a pattern suggesting any kind of proclivity for gambling, coupled with the fact of several others listed frequenting other casinos without visiting the Golden Palace at the very least once and, despite all this, the attraction to this type of facility not being present in more than about a quarter of the sample... Gave away evidence of the young gambler's lack of involvement.

Furthermore, contemplating, the Golden Palace Casino was the largest, most renowned, and ostentatious place of entertainment in the city... Yes... It must have also had an influential role in the gathered data. Ratio grumbled under his breath as he read in his spare time the preliminary report prior to the reunion with the blond. Did they sacrifice such an extensive amount of time to unveil something as obvious as this? The scholar massaged the bridge of his nose as he re-read the document in front of him.

“Anyone with a modicum of common sense under scrutiny by the Corporation and also guilty of whatever charge was assigned to them would not hesitate for an instant to, at the very least, flee to the nearest galaxy.” The doctor mentioned to himself as he placed the paperwork on top of the table of his desk.

After he had met the blond, he came to believe Aventurine would probably not be the type of individual with a speck of mere survival instinct to escape such a predicament. The Doctor reckoned that he would even stand by, anticipating the moment in which the IPC chose to face him. Just the thought of it gave him a throbbing headache.

One way or another, if he was the culprit indeed, it would not take long before the scholar himself identified the specifics, so, for the time being, the preferable course of action was to avoid any trouble and seek as much as possible an efficient and professional co-operation.

Repeating this idea in his thoughts over and over again, the doctor stood up from the bathtub, letting the water glide over his body, setting a memo to stay vigilant. Thus, the man proceeded with his daily routine and eventually set out on his way to college, ensuring to lock the apartment dutifully with his key, the latter ones now decorated with a beautiful duck keychain he had found in a nearby store on his way back home. The doctor considered purchasing, likewise, some bath bombs in the night, returning to his apartment, granted that today's predicted schedule would be a tad more wearisome than usual, besides remembering he had just spent his favorite one as well. Veritas thought he, at minimum, deserved a nice final moment of unwinding at the end of the day.

“You’re late. By fourteen minutes and forty-seven seconds.” Ratio announced as he stood in the lobby of the Corporation’s facility, arms folded in front of him with an annoyed gesture plastered on his eyebrows and eyes.

The blond man approached at a brisk, light trot toward the scholar. Currently, a pair of round sunglasses with blue tinted glasses reflecting everything around him was on the gambler's face, which effectively hid his magenta and cyan eyes from anyone drawn to his appearance. Strangely, however, these accessories seemed to be overshadowed by the extravagant attire he was wearing, a bright turquoise long-sleeved shirt, paired with a formal vest of a very dark grayish color and pants of the same hue.

Perched flawlessly on his left ear was a peacock pendant made of precious stones- aventurines, the doctor inferred, recalling the public name used by the other man. - This induced attention in return to the numerous bracelets, rings, and a gold-embellished wristwatch, crafted from the same material as his earring. Finally- and in case the sheer number of unnecessary items in each garment was not sufficient - the man was sporting a visored hat of the same color as his vest, accompanied by an odd black cloak laced in gold with equally lavish fragments, the fabric of which protruded from the front of his torso and his back, down to his legs.

Ratio, for the lack of a better word, immediately felt for the first time in his life, aware of the difference in attire choices when compared to another person. The doctor was still dressed in his professor's coat due to the urgency with which he had wrapped up his work shift, and given his primary aim was to avoid being late, something he adamantly detested. The robe was highlighted by a plain, woven sweater of indigo pigment, with a crisply laundered, white shirt underneath it, matched by a red, checkered patterned tie. The doctor looked down briefly, noticing the casino owner's hobnailed boots.

He definitely felt out of place next to the blond.

“Good afternoon doctor!” The other man said with a saccharine tone, withdrawing his sunglasses in an extra gesture to straighten his hair. “Sorry I'm late,” he expressed as he outstretched his hand, shaking it with the present professor, just to commence walking back to the exit, leading the purple-haired man out, “traffic is incessant at this time of day and there were certain documents from the casino that required my approval.”

Ratio decided not to answer, nevertheless, one of his eyebrows was slightly raised and then fixed in an unconvinced expression as he saw a sumptuous convertible car parked all along the front of the building, with some people nearby chatting and occasionally glancing around, trying to find out who the owner of such a magnificent vehicle was.

In the first place, the doctor mentally doubted whether it was really possible for the shorter man to earn sufficient money to afford such a car.

Secondly, he questioned his own safety, now aware that the gambler was going to be driving.

Thirdly, he reasoned whether the blond had paid to have his driving test approved without needing to perform it, the latter of which he decided to try to assure himself that Pier Point's road safety system was not so abhorrent as to be left in the hands of someone with no major driving expertise.

Aventurine seemed to disregard the look of subtle concern on his face briefly concealed by the face mask, heading for the passenger side door in a polite gesture of opening it, offering an entrance to the doctor. Whether he was genuinely polite or merely accommodating, the scholar was not sure, though he made no objections, content to simply settle into the cushioned and plush seat.

The car did not have any sort of ceiling at the instant, the roof was retracted, allowing the harsh breeze and the sound of the bustling city to penetrate his ears as the casino owner adjusted in the driver's seat, turning on the engine with a smirk as he glimpsed Ratio out of the corner of his eye. The whole unbecoming atmosphere garnered the interest of nearby people walking down the street, causing the doctor's irritation to intensify.

“Well, Doctor, not really to rush, but... Our ‘client’ must be waiting for us right this moment.” Said the gambler in a far too amused tone for his taste, thus beginning to embark on the trip.

Ratio calculated in his brain that, of the fourteen minutes delayed by the blond's unpunctual arrival, they had managed to recuperate seven and a quarter minutes due to the speed with which the shorter man had driven them to their destination.

Listing exactly each subsequent event, the scholar summarized the following results: of the five times he had reprimanded the gambler for exceeding the speed limit, on only three occasions had he heeded his warnings. They ran about two red traffic lights, and one driver insulted the owner for nearly running the car into his path while trying to outrun him. The taller man let out a hefty breath, carrying with it the stress of these seven minutes and a quarter of justifiable uneasiness the moment Aventurine parked the vehicle in front of the establishment they were meant to be arriving at.

In turn, it was himself the one to descend from the transport on his own, not willing to expend another fraction of a second in that object. The blond let out a slight chuckle, stretching his arms up above, towards the cloudless blue sky, his various aventurine accessories echoing from the movement, and with a bright gleam in his eyes, he let out a peaceful sound, as if he just had the most reinvigorating car ride of his life.

Right after the gambler switched off the engine, removing the flamboyant gold-tinged jacket that rested upon his shoulders, and stepping out of the vehicle with a huge smirk on his features, the two men assessed their surroundings, making a closer inspection of the construction before them. It appeared to be a shabby bar, placed on the first floor of a residential complex in an arbitrary- and unquestionably unmemorable- area of Pier Point.

The exterior of the location did not appear to be anything out of the ordinary, even featuring some spots in which the paint on the wall threatened to fade away in order to make space for the dull concrete underneath. The entrance, nonetheless, was embellished with a massive neon-colored sign, with shapes mimicking bottles of booze, the stilted letters craved a weird jumble of words that spelled “The Rusty Bloodhound.” The golden-haired man swore he had once frequented another tavern with the same designation of 'Bloodhound.'

Ratio internally hesitated, taking into account the likelihood that the casino owner had not only driven in the most hazardous fashion he ever had the fortune of witnessing but the fact he had also brought them here, to the wrong address. Still, the blond didn't show any signs of indecision, walking straight towards the bar door with a confident stride before opening the door, letting the scholar access the place. The latter huffed softly, striding deeper into the venue.

Despite having his mask resting on his factions, a strong odor of garret seized through the purple-haired man's nostrils. The doctor felt that, for every inhalation he took, a new fragrance was ingested into his system. Respectively noting and categorizing the smells in order of perception, he came to identify these: it all commenced with a distinctive dusty and nostalgic aroma, soon pursued by the stench of tobacco and nicotine, not staying there for long until it was supplanted by a poor quality cologne trying to simulate the freshness of roses - clearly lacking in the scene - then finally settling on the scent of the beverages by which the establishment was supposed to be acknowledged.

Contemplating Aventurine, the blond limited himself to look around with an air of conviction, as if he had the assurance that the stench coming from the current area was a reasonably ordinary and even pleasant one. Whether he was doing so unconsciously or not, Ratio could not distinguish.

Having controlled the nausea the bar provoked in him and walking close to the gambler, he discerned that the place was empty. Part of this made sense; after all, there were not numerous individuals willing to flee their working hours in the afternoon in an attempt to get drunk, particularly given that the location was moderately distant from the industrial and administrative area of Pier Point. Even if anyone was foolish enough to put their labor aside because of such a motive, there were plenty of nearer, more accessible, and higher caliber venues than this one.

The scholar rolled his eyes, trying to take in as many details as feasible at his disposition. Aside from the stench and the conveyed solitude, the lighting and decor seemed... cozy. Hospitable, even. It mimicked the large living room of a regular house, the hue of the lamps being warm and orange. Additionally, a few surrounding items appeared to be hand-me-downs from several years ago, clearly antique, but nicely preserved.

“Welcome.” Greeted the barman mentioned, as he stood there, brewing a drink in spite of the fact that they were the only customers in the whole establishment. The man didn't even deign to show them the menu, allowing Aventurine to, instead, retrieve it from the spot where it was currently stored, right next to the instruments utilized by the bartender.

“I'll have a... 'Drifting Wind.'” The blond stated, taking a seat on the stool and placing his elbows on the poorly painted wooden table before slightly turning with the goal of glancing at the doctor.

The taller man didn't actually bother to read the menu, questioning what they were up to. Aventurine and he were meant to be interrogating the manager of the site, not pretending to be consumers. Ratio spoke, declining to make eye contact with either the waiter or the casino owner. “I never drink when I'm at work.” The gambler, on the other hand, let out a soft, mischievous laugh.

“Aw, come on, doc! I'm sure you'd at least enjoy a milkshake.” Ratio lifted an eyebrow at the remark, quietly debating it, to eventually peek through the card. Uttering a noise of affirmation, he managed to ascertain that yes, it was true, the place wasn't exclusively restricted to alcoholic concoctions.

“A 'Paper Moon' milkshake, please.” Enunciated the erudite several seconds later, after determining between this one or a sweeter smoothie. The barista started the beverage brewing without uttering another word.

Aventurine settled his eyes on him. The man sported the start of a beard on his facial features. His clothes were skimpy, and his wine-red colored shirt was certainly a couple of sizes too small for his proper size. This, combined with the gaudy, flashy, and bright red square-patterned tie loosely wrapped around his neck, lent a sense of slovenliness coming from him. The blond could also notice, in turn, that the black gloves he wore looked to be handmade, precisely tailored, and his equally dark shoes were flawlessly tufted.

“It is as if every basic description of the characters from popular series or literature had mutated into the most mundane and yet cryptic waiter in all of Pier Point.” Voiced the casino owner's opinion in the back of his brain. There was nothing unbelievably spectacular about the guy except for how remarkably average he was.

“Mister... Gallagher, is it? You shall already be aware of who we are; after all, we were responsible for requesting this brief service outside of common working hours.” The gambler chimed in, striking a playful and somehow enthusiastic voice. Ratio merely regarded him out of the corner of his eye.

“I'm aware. It's not every day that the Corporation chooses to send two of its 'detectives' to the humble abode of this hound.” Replied the bearded man- Gallagher- to the inquisition. The casino owner let out a giggle, drawing a poker chip from his pocket, starting to play with it in his hands, even tossing it in the air to catch it with great skill.

“Then you must think the same way regarding the IPC as I do.” The scholar let out a dissatisfied sound at the blond's probing comment. The other man opted to ignore him for the time being, attempting to keep the conversation with the barman going. “Don't worry, we just want to have a friendly chitchat about one of your most recent customers, I'm sure you have an idea who I'm referring to.”

The man with the tie closed his eyes, proceeding to stretch his hand around the glass with the gambler's cocktail. Just a mere touch caused a blaze of fire to erupt from it, igniting the prep table and nearly scorching the menus located close by. Nonchalantly, Gallagher resumed garnishing the drink, pouring in a few additional ingredients, before setting the mixture down on the wooden table in front of the blond.

“Not many clients come to this crummy bar. Much less are those who come back often, but I'll assume you're talking about the little 'birdie' who used to show up here the last month. What about him?” the manager interrogated, pulling a carton of milk from the minivan's small cooler, reinspecting the menu as if he'd forgotten how to prepare the taller man's milkshake.

“That's quite accurate. His name is Sunday, a young male Halovian. The Organization has acquired recent records of his disappearance. Based on several similar occurrences, the notion was conceived he may be related to a case of wider magnitude.” Ratio stated, surveying the barista's movements.

Gallagher, in contrast, glanced back to the doctor for a couple of seconds before returning to his task at hand. “Yes, I recall him. ‘Birdie' showed up at this place a little over a month ago in the middle of the night. He had the kind of face that made you know he'd never been drunk in his life. After the first cocktail, he was already starting to talk in regards of his personal life.”

Aventurine chose at that instant to pull the cup towards himself, sipping a fleeting gulp before widening his gleaming eyes, his mouth shaping into an 'o.' “What a stupendous drink!” He enthusiastically recited. “You truly possess remarkable expertise, Mister Gallagher.” The fair-haired man complimented. Nevertheless, the waiter did not reply in return, not even a grateful gesture; the shorter man didn't appear to mind the lack of a retort, though.

The doctor executed a disapproving motion in response to the casino owner, cautiously and silently reprimanding him for disrupting the gentleman over something so trivial. “If this is the case..., would you be able to enlighten us further about him?” The scholar demanded, observing as, for his smoothie, the barman made a sign of brushing his fingertips against one another. This caused- from seemingly out of nowhere- tiny pieces of crushed ice to drop onto the tall cup.

The barkeep mumbled, feigning pensiveness in his speech. “Frankly, I didn't think he'd be back after the first night. As I mentioned, not many customers are willing to reappear in this filthy 'doghouse.'” Out of a shallow case, he proceeded to scoop out a brownie, slicing it with ease and technique into finer portions to finally add them and pour the glass. “I cannot even muster a whole memory of what he spoke that evening; I could only tell you his appearance was most definitely attention-grabbing. Several patrons who were still lingering at that hour were turning around to examine him, his wings hinting he was from an older lineage than an ordinary Halovian.”

The blond nodded, around half of his drink consumed. “However, he returned on the following days, didn't he? What happened next?” the owner interrogated.

“When he arrived again the following evening, I chose to pay closer attention to him. Just like the night before, he came in all by himself and wore an expression of regret, the sort of look you'd expect to see on a young man with no company just before the clock struck the next day. He ordered the heaviest shot I had in the bar. What an idiot, I just gave him a milkshake with some Whiskey mixed in on it” The purple-haired man stopped dead in his tracks, surveying his own milkshake thoughtfully and with a newfound incertitude, Gallagher, on the other hand, shrugged off his suspicions and even the slender lines spreading across the doctor's face.

“In the beginning, he rambled on in regards of troubles anyone complains about in a bar. Hassles with his sister, no apparent purpose of what to accomplish in his life now that his adoptive father passed away, questions concerning morality and ethics... Nothing this 'old dog' hadn't heard before.” The barista continued, examining how the other two men drank their concoctions, one in a much more cautionary manner than the other.

“But within a week or two... He started to tell me he found a few memos and letters here and there his father left for him. Apparently, the now-deceased one was quite devoted to Ena, the Aeon of Order. I have no idea what the hell where their contents were; I just know that simply encountering those rusty papers left him feeling like all his worries had evaporated. It was the first time I saw him genuinely glad, confident his path in this short life had been irradiated.” The red-tied man stated, prior to withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, retrieving a random one, and lighting it with a flick of his finger.

“Some days afterward he showed up at the bar around the usual time, handed me roughly six hundred and eighteen credits, and left with a big fake smile on his lips, excusing himself for making me listen to his rant the first handful of times he'd been here, and mentioning he now had stuff to do. I haven't seen him ever since.” Gallagher concluded simply.

Aventurine and Ratio remained quiet for a brief period, the blond intervened once more. “So, you have no further knowledge about this man, Sunday?” the waiter affirmed, inhaling profoundly and allowing the smoke created by the cigar to drift out of his mouth. “I have no relationship with the man other than the fact he was, for perhaps certain weeks, a regular customer… Although I think you would already be aware of this.” The gambler confirmed, finishing his cocktail and dropping in exchange, a thousand credits on the table, well over four times what the drinks cost.

“Indeed. We are very grateful for your cooperation, Mister Gallagher. If you desire to stop by the Golden Palace sometime, a bartender as astute and experienced as yourself would be a great convenience for us.” The owner expressed with a large grin. The barman shut his eyes, blowing out another puff of smoke from his mouth.

“This ‘hound’ certainly knows better than to meddle in the affairs of a ‘peacock.’ I have no wish to play cards and lose miserably against the likes of you.” Aventurine snickered mischievously, digging his hand into his pocket and leaving a card from his expensive deck on the table. It was an ace that held his own signature in one particular corner, emitting a fragrance of luxurious perfume.

“I will be attentive in case you may change your mind.” Noted the blond. Ratio, likewise, rose from his seat, leaving the milkshake unfinished, but without failing to eat the brownie portions first, unwilling to inadvertently get himself intoxicated by whatever secretive ingredient the attendant might have added to the smoothie.

“Please accept our thanks in advance for answering our queries. The Organization will be vigilant to any eventuality.” Replied the doctor in a terse, monotone voice. The two of them headed towards the doorway when suddenly, Gallagher yawned, right in advance of their exit.

“You know. That 'little birdie' allegedly had a sister. A pretty famous and well-listened-to Pier Point artist. Her name is Robin, She can probably fill you in on some more details.” The man dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his foot. “I've never been one to criticize beliefs, but even this decrepit dog can tell when some bird in the sky blindly trusts the unconcerned and mean-spirited Aeons. I could attest that such faith, based on desperation, didn't lead him to anything auspicious.”

Slipping his palms into his pants pockets, Gallagher slowly began to pace towards the back of the lounge bar, allowing Aventurine and Ratio to leave the establishment before he let out a sigh, commencing to rinse out the glasses.

“What do you think, doctor?” The gambler questioned, though the scholar presumed the man beside him already guessed his answer.

"The IPC formerly inquired into such correlation on the basis of shared beliefs. Nevertheless, not only did it demonstrate there was no common institution linking these, but it also illustrated the fact that the alleged victims adhered to diverse devotions and, indeed, worshipped Aeons of contradictory paths. Ena, therefore, could not be the rationale behind this organized attack." The fair-haired man smiled, adjusting his sunglasses.

"Looks like we'll have to pay the dear sister a visit. I will try to make time off my schedule, the casino has been overflowing with guests lately. Would you require a ride home, doctor?" The owner consulted, pushing the button on his key chain, triggering a momentary 'beep' from the car, unlocking itself.

Ratio sensed a shiver ripple down his spine at the offer. "That won't be necessary, thank you. Otherwise, I will perform a more profound investigation of the documentation provided by the Corporation. In any case, I shall maintain communication with you." The purple-haired man made a turn, willing to leave the location; however, before he could take a step, Aventurine stopped him.

"Ah! Right, doc. Would you mind providing me with your number? It would be easier for me to discuss the case that way, compared to the email." The erudite scholar hesitated, deeming that, on rare occasions, he participated in dialogues through such a medium, with the exception of a handful of co-workers with whom he interacted on a daily basis, requiring an immediate method of communication. Nevertheless, and contrary to all odds, he opted to agree, scanning the golden-haired man's cell phone code.

"Great doc! I'll be on the lookout for any developments. Don't ever hesitate to drop me a line if you ever require anything." The owner stated, winking and putting his phone away, before heading towards the luxury car, which, again, had a fair number of people around admiring it.

“Likewise.” Ratio answered as he parted ways with the shorter man, reminiscing about the discussion they had with the bartender and noting in his mind that he still had to purchase those bath bombs for relaxation, albeit perhaps with less need.

“Please state your name and rank.” Specified the reception assistant in a severe manner. He didn't bother to raise his gaze and survey the man in front of him.

Ratio studied him for a brief second, remarking how slightly stained his fingers were with a dark hue and how his eyes appeared to glisten faintly, unique characteristics yet so prevalent in the society they lived in, rooted in species and the physical attributes that portrayed them.

"Doctor Veritas Ratio, I scheduled a meeting with Madam Bonajade. It was indicated by email that I should approach today, Tuesday, in the afternoon hours to the corresponding building and office." Replied the scholar with an automatic tone, beforehand arranged in front of the mirror imperturbably for a couple of minutes.

Finally, the opposite party shifted his attention to the doctor. The young man - in accordance with his own criteria - beheld him. Neither man's countenance betrayed their truthful intentions in this particular place. Nonetheless, the purple-haired man was unable to prevent a sense of wariness, as if somehow the official was endeavoring to advise him, by his gestures alone, that any business concerning the Corporation was not meriting of his consideration.

A short, uneasy silence, with no discernible intent, ensued prior to the receptionist devoting his focus back to the hologram simulating the screen of a device on his desk. After typing for several seconds, the man merely pointed with his inky fingers- and sharp nails, Ratio had noticed- to a lonely hallway stretching beyond his view.

“Lady Bonajade will summon you succinctly.” He limited himself to voice as he snapped back his sight towards work, totally oblivious to the doctor's presence.

The erudite followed the directions, heading down the corridor and took a seat in one of the lonesome, vacant armchairs in the lounge area. He released a ponderous breath and crossed his legs, seeking to settle his mind prior to being welcomed inside.

Five minutes elapsed, and the purple-haired man fixed his eyes fleetingly on the steel watch that dangled from his wrist. The slender hands twitched, producing a tik tak, tik tak chime. Punctuality has always been an admirable trait of which he was proud. He always endeavored to arrive where he was expected at the time he was scheduled, no matter the circumstances; it was a sort of permanent rule he had agreed upon with himself.

Soothing.

As ten minutes elapsed, his eyes wandered back to the clock once more and then examined the hallway. It was mildly furnished with certain artificial vegetation of a structure and shade easily suggesting its true nature. The lighting fixtures suspended from the walls shed a dim, yellowish luminosity on the entire corridor. Although the Corporation's building was situated in the most striking and exceptional area of Pier Point, the windows in that particular area only displayed the side of the adjacent building.

After fifteen minutes had elapsed, he mused. Perhaps if one desired to enjoy the breathtaking cityscape, one would be required to move a substantial length closer to the glass windows and perch at an angle of forty-five... no, forty degrees to the wall in order to achieve at least a glimpse of the streetscape. Perchance, if he allowed his inquisitiveness to win out, he could sneak closer and test his calculations on his own...

Twenty ticked, and the atmosphere had grown tiresome and dull after. It was at that instant, shortly before he took the decision to stand up and walk away, that the office door swung open, and a tall woman loomed through it, beckoning the doctor to enter.

“Doctor, please, you may come in.” She recited in a soft yet hostile undertone, something Ratio couldn't help but note.

Upon accessing the vast room, a pungent fragrance overpowered his senses. The scholar could depict it as a floral scent amplified to such an extent that it ceased to be pleasurable, becoming unsubtly nauseating. It was a species of flowers about to wither, a dry, deep, and decadent Cyprus, summed up with a strong musky odor feigning a struggle among themselves in an attempt to conclude which one must be the predominant aroma.

Delving even deeper, he realized how the environment conveyed an... adverse mood. From the abrupt shift from the warm colors of the hallway to a palette of cool, muted hues to the lack of tasteful, inviting décor. Everything around them screamed flamboyant and luxurious. Intimidating and harmful. However, what externalized and amplified this sense of uneasiness the most was the woman standing in front of him.

The executive was bathed in gems and beautiful gemstones with a large quantity of jades, both in her accessories, as well as in her wardrobe, and even in the clasps that protruded from certain portions of her head. Her hair was lengthy, silky, and flawlessly coiffed. Not a single strand was sticking up or drifting into undesirable directions.

The clothes featured, in addition, an indisputable caliber, consisting of a white sleeveless blouse, complemented by navy blue and black laces. Moreover, it had countless folds, which gave the garment an image of elegance, enhancing the fine jewels attached to the outfit. The woman likewise wore a mid-length black skirt, fitted to her figure, which reinforced her elegant semblance.

Her shoes consisted of black high heels with multiple finishes and lavender-colored soles. Regardless, what shone out most, in turn, was a great, oversized, thick, leather jacket resting on her shoulders, not fully worn. Her trademark hat was laid upon her desk, in plain view for the two present to admire.

Her arms - his brain interjected - feigned a serpent-like texture of scales. Even her eyes, which rather than bluish mimicked a deathly gray shade, exhibited oddly curved pupils. Ratio reckoned this was quite likely a way of frightening any individual who happened to encounter her. An even more rational suggestion implied she was only disclosing a fraction of her true visage and that the woman in sight was not completely displaying her genuine physique.

A shape-shifter?

The female counterpart paced slowly across the office, settling herself at her desktop, sitting down, and quietly motioning to the chair opposite to her, prompting the scholar to perform the same gesture. Ratio obeyed, accommodating himself in the cushioned seat.

“Doctor, it's such a pleasure to meet you in our headquarters. I presume you have obtained the Organization's invitation and have thought it over leisurely.”

Her voice carried a mixture of gentleness and apathy. The woman's pitch felt as though it was designed to provide reassurance, yet subconsciously, it was as if part of her was shouting as well to remain vigilant and avoid making any missteps. “Quite suitable for the Deputy Head of the Strategic Investments Department,” the purple-haired man probed in hindsight. Jade merely continued to smirk at the ensuing silence falling between them.

“As you have previously been forewarned, I am Lady Bonajade, the one who will be assisting you today in this discussion.” She paused shortly, noticing Ratio keeping his distance. “Well, doctor? I'd be delighted to know your opinion.” The directive stated, lurking him with her gaze. Ratio, by contrast, closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the repulsive scent in the chamber before addressing her.

“I reckoned that the Corporation would not be so straightforward in coercing future collaborators. Is this a commonly employed method in this association?” The scholar said without fluctuation, squaring up to IPC's clear intent in 'offering an opportunity for employment and development.' The woman shifted slightly, crossing her legs in a posture of reassurance, her facial features maintaining unperturbed and comprehensive.

“Please consider it a ‘necessary evil,’ doctor. Nevertheless, concerning your query... The Organization only resorts to such methods with those co-participants who have not opted out of a concrete decision... Or those who tend to be labeled as troublesome when it comes to acquiescing to abide by the IPC's cooperation.” Jade clarified patiently, emphasizing the last statement, an action that prompted a frown on the scholar's face.

“Then you will already know my response to your proposal.” Ratio expressed tersely, revealing in his complexion a distinct motion of irritation due to the predicament in which he now found himself. Stuck in a corporate office, in an organization that sought above all to force him to engage and work with them.

“Please consider it, Doctor. The Corporation has numerous affiliations, much more than you might ever dream of. It certainly would be a great privilege to count on the endorsement of selected members of the Genius Society in personal research, wouldn't it?” She countered in a syrupy voice. The purple-haired man arched an eyebrow, boldly daring to acquire a cheekier intonation.

“I have lost all further interest in laboring with such individuals for approximately half a decade.” He uttered in a dry manner, allowing the words to permeate the atmosphere like a condemnation. The man pondered, his eyes transfixed on the horizon, perched on the panorama of the city mirrored in the crystal permitting enlightenment in the study.

“Doctor...” Interrupted the woman without vacillation. “I don't deem it fundamental to promptly illustrate the methodology of this institution, I confide you are enlightened enough to be cognizant of it. Nonetheless, I do ask you... Do you comprehend how effortless it is for us to grant a halt to all your investigation?” Jade placed her hand on the acacia desk, tracing tiny invisible circles on it.

“It would be a pity if so many years of painstaking diligence and commitment to educating the masses and their purpose would merely... Vanish in an instant.” She made a gesture of gradually clasping her hand closed. “Forgotten, amongst the collective remembrance of the scientific community, without any further meaningful accomplishments that would enable you to be gazed upon by the Aeon of Erudition.”

“Madame Jade. If you really pride yourself on negotiating innately, I strongly suggest you abandon this deplorable attempt at an arrangement. I do not possess any genuine fascination in being an IPC employee and your equally pitiful, unsubstantiated admonitions will fail to persuade me.” Ratio vociferated, rising from his position, aiming to bring the meeting to an end as quickly as possible. The directive did not move in an effort to detain him, instead limiting herself to observing his movements as he began to whirl around with the intent of retreating.

“You may be correct, Doctor.” She affirmed, grasping her hat lodged on the table as she slid one of her fingers through the fabric. “Although, allow me to flaunt the Department of Investigation and Intelligence. Visualize having the resources of the Organization at your disposal, it would definitely facilitate your purpose of educating the masses about the much-abhorred ignorance... Would you really turn down the chance to get closer to your parents' cherished dream, Veritas Ratio?”

Veritas swiveled his entire frame, glancing back at Jade for the first time in the entirety of their encounter. Despite the man's calm demeanor, she was successful in discerning a large, sun-like burning flame in his eyes. Albeit, she had managed to elicit a response from him, it still wasn't enough. She required to badger him even further, just a tad more.

“Very well, as you are not yet entirely forthcoming as to how much we could supply for the sake of taking you into our faction...” The woman settled the ample accessory on her head, shielding her vision prior to perching one of her hands on her own cheek.

“If the goodwill of the Institution were to be rejected... We would be gravely distressed to cease your groundwork and exhaustively compile your projects. After all, we would have sufficient grounds to question the legality of its purpose. It would not be exceedingly burdensome for us to take custody of any incriminating vestiges, should they exist, of course. Believe me, doctor, neither the IPC nor you would be delighted to find in tomorrow's headlines some unauthorized, scandalous, or unethically unsound venture coming from you, would we?”

Doubt. The scholar's aura switched, indecision was beginning to clutch him tightly, keeping him wedded to the cold, monochromatic tiles of the floor.

Bingo.

Reaching for some documents from her desk drawer, she slipped them on top of the expensive wood and, stretching out her hand in front of the scholar, easing her ostentatious pen with gemstone finishes to him, pointed to the paper.

“Sign here, doctor.”

Chapter Text

Extending his weak hands towards the air, he was able to experience the gentle touch of metal against skin. Cold and dead… But maddeningly freeing.

Carefully, feeling as if in any instant his trembling palms were about to lose their grip on the material, accidentally detaching his flesh from the object and breaking it into millions of pieces against the walnut wood floor, he raised it to his lips.

Inhaling the familiar scent of rusty iron, he allowed the gelid article to linger on his mouth for a few seconds before breaking the connection. Thus, he scrutinized the key once more, blinking slowly and numerous times, attempting to immortalize the memory of the piece upon the pallor of his own body in his reminiscence.

“You are free, kid.” A deep and husky voice mentioned, in a tone that reflected a sickening mixture of indifference and sympathy. The figure to whom it belonged remained stationary ahead of him, wearing a fancy suit, his own hands in the garment's pockets, observing him from above.

‘Not for long.’ The young boy with golden hair thought.

“I have-” The man began to speak, before making an uncomfortable pause, as if he didn't know how to continue, as if he didn't know if the other could understand. "I have some connections. None of this will ever come to light; maybe I could even arrange something decent for you to start over... From scratch... Y’know, a place to sleep. Documentation... There's even a contact who would be willing to sell his business for a good price."

Magenta and cyan irises met absolute black. The subject in front of him swallowed saliva. Perhaps he was intimidated by the presence of a malnourished teenager on the verge of death? Kakavasha refused to delve into the thought, merely allowing his gaze to secretly ask the inquiry, not daring to speak, not daring to entrust.

The opposite picked up on the cue, letting out a weak kick into the air in a nonchalant gesture- or at least one that attempted to be so. “Look- I… I don’t intend you to trust me in an instant, alright?” A sigh echoed through the dark room. “If you don’t want me to, I can let you walk away like it's nothing. Won't say a word about it as well.” The male stated prior to delving one of his hands into his pants pocket, tightly clutching an item, pulling it out, and tossing it ahead of him. The document slid across the floor, stopping in front of the boy, revealing what it was- a Corporation ID card.

“You can memorize my personal data if that makes you feel at ease. Report me to the IPC if I ever come to harm you, it's just..." Bringing his fingertips to the back of his hair and scratching, the employee looked away nervously. "-We didn't expect to rescue a survivor from our search. Much less a young Cristatus."

Kakavasha eyed the credentials with great precision, ensuring that the details belonged to the person speaking to him.

"Kid, I dread to even imagine what the Corporation would do to you if you ended up in their grasp. Just let me lend you a hand- you'll never need to see me again, or get involved with the Organization if you so desire.” The blond scrutinized him thoroughly, deciding what he ought to do now. Following a few seconds of deliberation, he nodded curtly. The agent managed a grimace that resembled the beginnings of a smile prior to resuming his speech. “So... What would you like your new name to be? Or perhaps you'd prefer to continue using your old one?”

The golden-haired young boy glanced around before his attention was drawn to a nearby mahogany desk, a large polished gemstone resting on it. Kakavasha squeezed his eyes shut, reminiscing. His former owner had threatened him with death if ever he dared as much as breathe on the rock, claiming it was worth more than his slave market value. His brain still evoked the smirk on the opposing lips as the man uttered those words.

“What’s the name of that stone?” It was the first time the teen addressed the male in the suit. His voice was a mix between a mellow broken tune and a gentle melody. The clerk did not judge; minimally, he turned to stare at the desk, eliciting a thoughtful noise.

"I think it's an Aventurine, a mineral sometimes used in jewelry. Some work colleagues mentioned that it provides good luck, although I don't think that's the actual case." The functionary vocalized without much effort.

'Luck,' the boy echoed to himself, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose.

“Aventurine.” He said dryly.

“Hm?” The opposite murmured, not fully hearing him due to the quiet tone of his voice.

“My name is Aventurine.”

The sound of ducks and birds flooded the chamber. The purple-haired man released a noise that reflected brief annoyance as he reached for his phone, sliding his finger across the screen in an effort to turn it off without the need to focus his gaze on the device, having already memorized the motion to perform due to the habit of his routine.

Monday. First day of the week. A yawn escaped his lips as the erudite sat up on his bed, emitting a heavy sigh before brushing his hand through his chaotic hair. Today's routine was relatively simple, consisting solely of teaching his morning lectures at college and grading his students' exams, nothing out of the ordinary.

Grabbing the cellphone, the doctor pulled it closer to himself, reviewing his calendar notifications and checking for any relevant comments from his coworkers. Instead, and opposed to his expectations, he encountered six new messages from an unknown number. Slowly tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brows, he clicked open the conversation, trying to recall if he had recently granted his number to anyone.

Reading the chat thoroughly, he released a second sigh. Aventurine. He had provided his contact info to the casino owner to ‘maintain proper communication’. Ratio narrowed his eyes faintly as he stared carefully at the digits flashing on the device's screen. Had he really texted him at 3:54 a.m.?

[3:54 AM]
“Hey, doc!”
[Sticker of smiling Wubbaboo]
“Have you been able to schedule an appointment with Miss Robin?
“I've got nothing to do this week!
“Let me know when you're free”
[Sticker of Wubbaboo with a thumbs up]
[This user has logged off]

Massaging the bridge of his nose, the scholar made an expression of disappointment. Three fifty-four a.m. Couldn't he wait for a more convenient time to contact him? Fortunately, his phone was in do-not-disturb mode; otherwise, he was sure the owner must have woken him up.

After a couple of seconds, however, the erudite began to ponder, muttering a whisper of affirmation. Yes, he had already taken it upon himself to notify the Corporation regarding the request for a meeting with Robin, sister of one of the victims in the case- Sunday, if he remembered correctly at this early hour of the morning.- However, the singer was temporarily off-planet on an interstellar tour; thus, the interrogation had been repeatedly postponed.

Even so, the doctor had been advised that she would be back within the week, the senior management scheduled an appointment with her; in fact, the IPC instructed them and insisted on going to her apartment in case a perusal of the siblings' foster father's files was necessary. Although Ratio- and quite possibly Aventurine, noting how shrewd the blond was- assumed that there would no longer be a trace of those draft notes.

‘Perhaps I ought to use one of my most relaxing bath bombs today,’ the scholar mused, rising from his bed and heading to the bathroom, commenting in his mind to remember to write to the blond later on about their possible visit this week, believing the other would be resting after texting him at such a late hour.

Stepping into the bathtub full of steaming hot water and inspecting the tarnished glass on the place, he shut his eyes. Those insignificant messages delayed him slightly in his schedule, he rationalized. A few pastries after his classes to compensate for this untimely event would not sound that bad.

The boy glanced at his dirty palm, on which the false documentation lay, accompanied by a poorly photographed picture of himself. His overly long and untidy hair, coupled with the absence of any trace of an outwardly visible smile and the haunting blueish tinted stare focusing directly on the camera lens, overly emphasized a sentiment of discomfort derived from the photo, nearly resembling a fleeing fugitive by his own criteria.

Not too far off from the truth, he inquired inwardly as he turned the card over, dropping it on a nearby pinewood table.

Subsequently, his gaze wandered to the vicinity of the cramped chamber in which he found himself. The walls were moldy, full of leaking pipes, and the noise coming from the adjoining rooms was too loud, as if there were no separation to begin with. The dusty hardwood floor creaked with each step, even when the golden-haired man tiptoed. Out of habit or curiosity, he decided not to probe too deeply into it in order to maintain his sanity.

'Far too expensive for such a deplorable and squalid room.' He muttered to himself the second some loose bills from his paycheck shifted faintly from the mattress with no sheets or covers placed on the floor due to the breeze originating from the narrowly open window.

Kakavasha... Now known as Aventurine, contemplated the intense light located above his golden hair. His eyelids, willing to scorch his retinas through the lamp, did not blink as the teen faintly opened and closed his mouth, savoring acid and emptiness. The question delved deep into his brain for a few seconds, the young boy letting it permeate over his musings, embracing it despite it being a dangerous and harrowing one.

'What am I doing here?'

His routine was straightforward, tedious, and burdensome at the same time. Working in a tavern in a hellhole somewhere in Pier Point late at night, pouring booze to deadbeat drunkards with no decent lifestyle and a myriad of regrets on their shoulders. Some would even dare to discuss the peacock feathers resting in his arms, the worst ones would attempt to reach and pluck them out, amazed to witness a breathing Cristatus.

This was the only site that had hired him, regardless of his lack of experience and the obvious fact that it was stupidly apparent that his papers were forged, coupled with employing a minor with no reliable adult supervision who could vouch for him.

The owners were far too frantic to fill the empty space left by the former employee seeking a richer life by traveling the world in his diminutive spaceship with acoustic music playing in the background. Yet, on the positive end for them, the blond was drawing in customers thanks to the exotic stories created from his species. In addition, there was a notion that any leaked information from his persona to the Corporation might lead to trouble for the whistleblower due to the disclosure of relevant specifics of a species in danger of becoming extinct beyond a trace, which benefited him immensely by staying under wraps.

Eventually, the blond was beginning to gain increasing confidence in his charisma and speech. Before anyone else was able to put a halt to it, the young teen was confidently reciting saccharine words to the patrons, delivering trusting smiles that by the end of the evening resulted in more revenue than anticipated for the shop. On that particular occasion, the golden-haired boy recalled earning his first short-lived pay raise. He still reminisced about how he had kept staring at the slightly increased amount of bills being nearly crumpled by his palm.

His days had become a continuous repetition of monotonous tasks, pointless remarks, undesirable people, lousy salaries, plastic-coated smiles, and cramped, claustrophobic, suffocating places. Each passing week would intensify the feeling and thoughts, deep in his mind, that he was wasting his life away, and over time, the question that was once a brief buzz would echo deafeningly, choking him as it chuckled at his misery.

'What am I doing here?'

…

Even worse…

‘What would my sister think if she found me like this? Can she still see me?’

His feet dragged him away from his place, causing an uncomfortable, dull thud as they made contact with the concrete of the sidewalk. In all honesty, he was supposed to be resting, preparing for his shift at the bar per usual. The mere idea of having to show up at that establishment for another night was making him dizzy and sending a throbbing headache through his head.

He needed to clear his conscience somehow before he ended up asphyxiating under the icy water, devoured to death by his own misfortune. Kakavasha wished... He yearned for a sign from beyond… From the Aeons people around him were so devoted to, from his worshipped, yet vanished goddess Gaiathra, from any celestial entity that still regarded him as a person deserving of dignity in his existence. Any motive to shift everything that was occurring in his life, to prove to him that he was still gasping for something besides his miraculous yet rotten luck.

Carrying his body and passing through an area lined with numerous taverns, whose names spelled meaningless and foolish words ‘Red Pepper’, ‘Sun’s tavern’, ‘El Búho Bar’, ‘Bloodhound & Barrel’ to name a few, the young man strolled past an establishment that caused him to pause and deafen his musings, tossing them aside after numerous weeks, days and hours into a dim void where sound was non-existent.

The signs at the entrance were average, the neon display at the doorway too garish for his taste, and the background music emanating from inside was one he didn't enjoy at all, finding it annoying and resembling the one played at the bar too much. And yet... And yet Aventurine chose to keep gazing at it, his feet carefully shifting on their own accord as he stood at the entrance, where a man wearing sunglasses and a suit that seemed shoddy at best and fake at worst remained standing guard.

As he attempted to enter, however, the attendant halted him with his arm, closely studying him and raising an eyebrow at the magenta and cyan hue in the opposite stare. Whether he had noticed the origin of the colours in his irises or not, the blond was unable to properly pinpoint due to the lenses resting on the watchman's face.

“'Kid, you got an ID?” the worker asked in a not-so-friendly, albeit rather quizzical, manner. The golden-haired man dug his hand into his pocket, quietly withdrawing his documentation. It had been some years since he'd acquired it, and not only did it appear more legitimate, but now his facial features feigned to be regarding an older age, which had spared him several awkward and past inconveniences from other individuals mistaking him for a child.

The man's eyebrows rose, as if he was not expecting him actually to hand him some sort of document. Holding it up with his fingertips, he checked it thoroughly, still unconvinced of the truthfulness of the little card.

“Is your name Aventurine?” the clerk with sunglasses probed. The young man was surprised that he was able to read while wearing them, though it was presumably due to the species to which the attendant belonged.

“I legally changed my name over a few years ago.” The blond replied, staring at him, his voice dull and curt, not at all complementary to the gorgeous, sunny day they found themselves in. The guard, in return, as a response to his persistent scrutiny, slightly adjusted himself.

“It has the Corporation's seal, and seems to be fine.” The other chimed in as he surveyed every meticulous detail of the document delivered by the contrary. The latter simply made a noise of affirmation with his lips. Following a few more seconds of pondering, the guard stepped to the side, granting him access and returning the ID to him.

“Thanks.” Murmured the golden-haired boy as he stepped deeper into the venue.

The mere act of setting foot inside the place only caused his impression of the site to decline even further.

The scent of tobacco and alcohol pervaded the air, the premises reeked of foulness, and upon entering, the immediate thing his attention fell upon was a fellow guy getting dragged away by security, pleading to be allowed to gamble one more round, swearing he might still be able to recover.

Aventurine moved forward, contemplating intently the dusty crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the clicking sounds of worn chips being shoved to the center of the casino tables, and the way cards with intricate patterns on their reverse sides were skillfully shuffled together. Following a brief period of selection, the young man headed for one of the slot machines in the corner of the casino, settling down on the red, backless stool in front of the garish colors emerging from the screen.

Digging into his pocket, he retrieved the largest bill he possessed and pushed it into the engine unhesitatingly. The rattle of cash being sucked in came into his ears and the blond licked his lips, mindful of the fact he'd just handed over the money intended for his meals supply of the rest of the week.

His bosses never approved salary advances, perhaps he might end up precisely like the man he'd seen earlier, wasting his money and collapsing alone in his room, courtesy of the famine at the end of the month. Nevertheless, as the boy chose to concentrate on the instructions displayed on screen, quite determined not to depart without earning something at the very least, he figured he didn't need to deposit such a large sum of cash in the first place. Aventurine angled his head to the side, instead selecting the auto mode, which allowed him to perform fifty rolls.

Upon rereading his choice once more, he proceeded, firmly clutching the lever on his right side and pulling it downward. The Symbols began to scroll at great speed, until all five icons halted, displaying a line of ‘sevens’ across the middle. Jackpot! Dictated the monitor, dropping an ample number of chips at the same time as a cheerful melody flooded his senses.

The blond sat there, seemingly confused. At the same time, a nearby attendant took note of his surprise, striding at a nimble trot towards him with a tiny smile on her face.

"Why, sir! Looks like you've been lucky enough to win the jackpot. Please be aware that you can redeem the tokens for cash at the front desk." The woman dressed in a crimson dress remarked, leaning over with the purpose of staring at the flashing screen. The Cristatus did not reply; instead, he pulled the lever beside him one more time with an indifferent expression.

Once more, the icons faded, turning into blurred shapes and patterns before settling into a streak of four ‘sevens’ and a wild card a second time. Jackpot again.

The lady lifted an eyebrow, scanning the golden-haired man, who, without hesitation, made another spin, the squares arranging themselves in a different line of golden bells, resulting in the opposite winning a smaller prize. Following a few rounds of suspicious luck, the woman stopped him.

“Excuse me, sir, would you mind if I made a roll?” She commented, her expression molding into one of displeasure and bewilderment. Remaining quiet, the young man let her perform the cast this time. In this instance, the symbols ended up in ordinary placements, without the attendant managing to win so much as an additional roll.

Believing that the boy was cheating, she pronounced, striving to remain calm and sagaciously snitching on the Cristatus. "Sir, the casino will pay you for the remaining outstanding spins. We are afraid there is a problem with the machine you are currently using, so please allow me to take you to another one that does not pose a nuisance. Would you desire a drink as compensation?"

“No, thank you,” Aventurine stated gruffly, moving behind the worker. He took a seat in front of a similar-looking machine. The worker snatched up some chips she kept with her, inserting them in the slot and letting the blond play once more. However, the hapless girl watched the symbols rotate until they eventually landed on three sapphires out of the five squares on the line.

'Progressive prize!' flashed the screen.

The woman paled at the scene.

Kakavasha had been kicked out of the casino.

Well... ‘kicked out’ was not quite the correct term. Rather, the owner of the casino and the rest of the staff had begged him to leave, offering him an exorbitant sum of money and forcing him to swear that he would never set foot in the establishment again.

Prior to that event, the young Cristatus was subjected to a total of two and a half hours of research. He'd sampled every single slot machine on the premises, had been positioned in all available card games, with different dealers, various playing decks, countless matches, and no matter what it was, Aventurine would always miraculously triumph, despite not fully comprehending the game he was currently being forced to participate in.

Even worse, dissatisfied with their ‘innocent experiment,’ they called in security and technicians, scrutinizing him from head to toe, scanning for any hint of disloyal competition or hidden tricks up his sleeves, tearing open the slots and inspecting them so thoroughly that Aventurine swore they were close to completely disassembling them. And despite everything, they were unable to find any proper evidence.

Giving up, the owner and staff agreed to hand over the fortune he had made- whether rightfully or wrongfully- in addition to treating him to cocktails and other bar specialties, which he steadfastly refused.

Thus, he'd ended up like this, holding three suitcases full of bundles of change in his arms, equivalent to essentially an entire year of financial comfort, and a puzzled appearance on his countenance.

What had just happened? Aventurine's mind echoed on and on and on, replaying the alarmed glances of the staff members and the sound of the umpteenth engine asserting 'Jackpot!'

This was the first day he was delayed for work.

By the time he entered the rusty, stained-glass door, his bosses were all over him, berating him for his tardiness and demanding that he commence his shift as urgently as possible. The young man inclined his head upward, regarding them straight into their eyes.

“I quit.” He abruptly blurted out, his lips emitting the spoken words quicker than the time it took his brain to overthink it for too long. The owners' lectures stopped dead in their tracks, prior to one of them nervously replying.

“... What?”

“I said I resign.” The blond insisted, his statement being greeted by a sepulchral silence. A few seconds passed in this fashion before he spun around, striding away at a parsimonious, relaxed pace, one of his palms concealed safely behind his back, clenching the air as he couldn't dare to glance back.

He never heard of that bar since.

Aventurine inspected the platinum watch perched on his wrist, graced with bracelets and a myriad of accessories he had purchased in a frenzy of excitement after being kicked out of yet another casino. The ostentatious item signaled that he had arrived precisely on time for the meeting, exactly on schedule. For some odd reason, the thought provided him with tranquility, as he believed he would initiate this negotiation in a suitable manner.

The golden-haired man didn't trouble himself searching for a seat, opting to remain standing ahead of the office entrance, contemplating his speech and mulling over what he was about to do. It wasn't long before an old, worn voice emerged from within, beckoning with a curt ‘pass’ that the time had arrived.

The gambler wore a grin across his face, pre-fabricated over numerous attempts and hours in front of the now gigantic mirror in his own apartment. Inhaling, he pushed the door wide open, confidently striding over to the man's desk and taking a seat in the poorly maintained leather chair, rearranging his suit.

“Good afternoon...” The opposite male observed him out of the corner of his eye, his weary stare traitorously reflecting his wishes to dispose of the property as soon as possible. The blond broadened his smirk, crossing his legs, as he awaited the contrary to start speaking, the latter seeming mildly bewildered at the young man's appearance.

“Are you... Mr. Aventurine?” he inquired with a hint of skepticism creeping through his tone. The youngest chuckled softly, maintaining his candid demeanor as he agreed with a nod of his head.

“That's correct.” Replied the gambler, slipping an old business card, tarnished by time and the passage of years, across the polished table. “An acquaintance of mine had mentioned you were currently selling a lot in the heart of Pier Point.”

'There's even a contact who'd be willing to sell his business for a good price.' Those lines echoed in his memory, recalling the encounter he'd once experienced, back when his name wasn't bathed in gemstones and casino chips.

“It's been a while since I've found out you were bargaining the location... I'm pleased to hear the offer is still outstanding.” Aventurine interjected once more, resting his cheek on his palm, draped by the comfortable, black leather gloves he had purchased in a fancy boutique a couple of days ago.

The owner, pushing his thoughts to the side, assented slowly. “Indeed, I am.” He countered, remaining suspicious of his ‘young client's’ countenance and his financial ability to purchase a grand lot in such a strategic location within the city. “Young man... Do you truly have- do you wish to purchase this property?”

Magenta and cyan-tinted eyes descended upon the male, advising him to be cautious with whom he was chatting. “I can reassure you; money is not a concern for me...” The ludopath paused before continuing to insist. "After all, the whole site is quite devalued, isn't it? Hearsay of how it brings ‘doom to its owners’ and ‘misfortune’ is fairly common. Or did you perhaps scheme to sell it to me at full price?" His voice bore a tinge of warning, the lot's proprietor slouching in his seat in acknowledgement.

The older fellow shifted his focus to the rug underneath his smeared shoes. Aventurine pressured further. "Are you seriously going to let this opportunity slip away? Only the Aeons THEMSELVES know the number of years to come until another buyer appears. If I were you, I'd agree to the deal right away. I could even settle the whole sum in one shot if the payment concerns you."

Stretching out his arm, which resonated in the room, courtesy of the accessories made of aventurine and gold, the blond offered his hand to him. “We have a deal?” His smile was calm, yet subtly sinister. The opposite hesitated for a few seconds. However, soon enough, he nervously reciprocated the gesture, persuaded by the gambler's words.

“A pleasure to do business with you.” The saccharine-sounding voice asserted, thundering through the walls and declaring the ownership as his own.

Having declined the casino owner's invitation to drive him to the singer's residence - for perfectly clear motives - and after taking a cab to the accorded destination, Ratio found himself facing the apartment alongside the blond, the latter checking his titanium watch, displaying a smug grin on his face.

The purple-haired male had since learned from their last scheduled visit together and dressed more appropriately for the situation. He wore a black shirt, neatly ironed and elegant, in spite of having a sporadic air with it. The remainder of his attire consisted of a bluish blazer with light golden highlights punctuated by beautiful patterns, his pants matching the same shade as the top, and a mellow colored tie, fitting the accents of the jacket, bestowed him with both comfort and gallantry.

His golden wreath with metallic laurels shone upon his head, and, per customary, the dark face mask lingered on his visage, concealing his features and the thin lines at the corners of his mouth from the outer world.

Aventurine, otherwise, looked... As only Aventurine was meant to look.

A pastel blue blouse, paired with plain white pants and a black belt. Similar to the previous occasions, Ratio recognized the habit of carrying an overcoat after spending several outings with the blond. This time, it happened to be a long coat of beige fur. The sunglasses were different as well, rounder, having coffee-colored lenses, fitting the coat he was sporting. Likewise, as is usual for the man, the jewelry was not lacking. The aventurine pendants perched on his ears, possessing the shape of a peacock charm encrusted with the exact precious gemstones at the end of it, plus the white gloves on his hands, emphasized his wardrobe.

'Only someone like him would wear such a costume to investigate some famous singer on behalf of the Corporation.' Mused the scholar.

Ratio was about to reach for the doorbell with his finger and press the button when, all of a sudden, the golden-haired man grasped his wrist, a tad more restless than usual, albeit never missing his air of assurance, which was exceedingly rare for him. The Arachnoeidés raised an eyebrow at the unanticipated gesture.

“Is something the matter?” the taller male asked sharply, somewhat annoyed at the interruption. The doctor was entirely sure that whatever the contrary man had to say could be postponed after speaking with Robin.

The blond sneered arrogantly, removing his shades prior to dangling them on his shirt. “Well, Doc... I figured you should be aware of the current situation as much as I am.” He began to chatter, the professor immediately inferring that there was absolutely nothing auspicious that could emerge from the owner's mouth.

“You see... I've had the pleasure of dealing with Miss Robin before.” Ratio sensed a throbbing headache seize him with that phrase, promptly frowning and glaring at the other male, wearing a severe expression. This definitely could not wait after the encounter with the woman.

“Pardon me?” he solely interjected before he even began to reprimand Aventurine.

The casino owner blurted out a snicker in a nonchalant fashion. “What's with that expression, Doctor?” he mused in a playful tone, loosening his grip on the scholar's wrist. "Clearly, we're not on bad terms; it was a simple case of a failed negotiation. You know, everyone can go through those kinds of things sometimes."

Ratio was becoming increasingly uncertain as to the implications of ‘not being on bad terms’. The blond sensed this, opting to resume the discussion. "I simply offered her an invitation to sing one evening at the casino- with generous payment, by the way. - She declined, expressing to me that it was inconsistent of her to perform her art in such a place." Aventurine shrugged. “A pity, really.”

The purple-haired male exhaled deeply and calmly. If the contrary was being honest, which he begged was the truthful instance, perhaps that fleeting exchange between the two would not interfere with the ongoing proceedings. The scholar assented in acknowledgement, granting the golden-haired man a moment to discourse upon any additional incidents he might have had with the artist. Nonetheless, the opposite stayed silent, a grin lingering on his visage.

Now, pressing the doorbell button, they both patiently waited for some minutes until the entrance swung open. A woman slightly shorter than the casino owner peeked through the aperture, almost as if she was timidly assessing who was on the opposing side, previous to her eyes, a blend of turquoise and bluish shades, pierced sunset. The songstress decided to move the door confidently, at last fully revealing herself.

“Ah, Doctor Ratio and... Mr. Aventurine?” Articulated Robin, middlingly disconcerted by the blond's attendance, before she recomposed, shaking her head, remembering to keep formal in the presence of the guests. “Forgive my manners, you're the Corporation's attendants... Correct?” She stated, offering them a warm, welcoming gaze.

The chanteuse wore a mid-length pastel blue dress, ruffled at the skirt, with golden touches and a rather angelic air attached to it. The shoulder straps connected to flowing sleeves made of gauze fabric, complemented with the same shimmering details at the bottom of the garment.

In addition, beneath her ears, two white wings protruded from either side, gradually attenuating at the ends to give way to a lilac hue. On top of her neatly combed hair sat two brooches made of artificial flowers, a few chains in these stretched towards the floating, resplendent halo with daffodils at the edges above her head.

A minor movement drew the attention of both men to the dress, where, from below her waist, a second set of white wings, larger in size with a similar tint, stood out, bringing them to recall the conversation they held a couple of days ago with the tavern owner, Gallagher, concerning the siblings' particular Halovian roots.

A few moments passed, and before the doctor could even muster a single thought, the casino owner was already speaking on their behalf. "Miss Robin! Long time no see!" Recited the gambler, placing one of his hands on his torso as a courtesy sign. “You are indeed correct. I find myself temporarily collaborating with the IPC for this case. Hope this doesn't prove to be an inconvenience for you.” Aventurine caught Ratio's disapproving look as he interrupted him.

Startled, the female shook her head, adopting a somewhat more casual tone and a tender smile. "No, no, not at all. Please come on in, you're very welcome." Stepping aside, she allowed the two men to enter.

The apartment was quite cozy and affable, full of warm colors and a faint scent of floral air freshener. Everything about it came across as reproducing the concept of “comfort and contentment.” Both of these feelings came from the pristine condition of the furniture and porcelain figurines, as well as the synergy of the overall ambiance, creating an amazingly peaceful and relaxing space.

Even so, in certain areas, there were traces of clutter and items scattered here and there. The scholar was able to spot loose dust on one of the tables supporting several porcelain figurines placed in the corner.

Ratio cleared his throat, refocusing the attention back to the subject at hand. “It is quite a hospitable home. Did you used to reside here with your brother?” The purple-haired male enquired, as the three present headed into the living room, seating themselves on the fluffy, soft cushions of the maroon sofa. Robin opted instead to lounge in one of the individual armchairs, grasping the cushion draped over it, setting it down on her lap, and embracing it.

"That's correct... We used to live with our father, too, but over time, as my brother and I became more independent, we stopped seeing each other very often. My brother... Sunday, was the one who kept in touch with him." There was a quick pause as the woman squeezed the cushion even tighter in her arms. “Due to my career, I found it difficult to go out with them as I used to when I was a little girl.”

The professor squeezed his eyes closed, previous to reciting in a graver tone. “My sincerest condolences.” The blond was swift to express himself as well. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Robin. This whole situation must be complicated for you, considering what happened with your brother."

The men didn't overlook the melancholy utterance from the artiste, who glanced around for a moment, concentrating on the ornaments spread across the room as she sighed ponderously. "I've chosen to take a break from... From everything related to my career. It feels like it has separated me too much from the ones I hold close." Her voice sounded as though it was overflowing with heaviness and a deep-seated resentment directed at herself.

"When my brother's disappearance happened, I was on tour... I sensed something was wrong the moment he didn't greet me at the Station as he usually did, even if I kept reminding him multiple times that there was no need for it. Shortly thereafter, as he didn't answer my texts and didn't arrive home, I decided to report him missing to the Corporation." The wings on her skull fluttered, almost as if they wished to hide the girl's face, who had laid her sight to rest on the polished floor.

Aventurine released a reflective rumble for an instant. “Wasn't there something else, perhaps some message from him or anything that might give us a solid trail to follow?” The male with golden hair pointed out, beckoning for an explanation with his palms. Robin simply shook her head. “If I knew, I would have commented already.” She answered, appearing dejected at the whole predicament, continuing to let an awkward atmosphere seep into the living room.

“Miss Robin, is it possible that your brother stored certain belongings of your father's?” Ratio questioned, reminiscing about everything Gallagher had reported to them concerning the older man's documents. Right then, the singer's complexion swiftly became one of astonishment, remembering.

"Yes... Yes, my brother held onto a few of my dad's possessions after he passed away a few months ago. The majority are gone now, and I'm not sure if he still keeps them... But you may inspect if you'd like." The scholar gestured approvingly at the chanteuse's comment, now sounding a tad more hopeful.

“Would you mind?” The purple-haired male questioned, ensuring he had the woman's permission in order not to overstep the boundaries of her household. “Anything necessary to make sure my brother is all right.” The artist expressed determination, rising to her feet and leading them towards Sunday's bedroom.

As the scholar suspected, the place was very well appointed, although beginning to seep through the alcove were diminutive particles of dust, an indication that it hadn't been adequately cleansed for a while. The Halovian man was most likely the one in charge of housekeeping while his sister was absent.

Aventurine blew a low whistle, surveying the space from top to bottom, observing the dull, dark color palette as he walked straight to the window, pulling the curtains open, allowing the sun's rays to filter into the area. Intriguingly, portraits of various birds were positioned hanging on the walls, and the scholar even recognized one of Robin's albums placed on the nightstand, next to a gramophone.

Within a couple of moments of perusing, a rather jovial and animated ringtone began to play. The two males exchanged a somewhat quizzical glance prior to directing their sights to the young female, realizing that the jingle came from her cell phone, which was now sitting in her hands with an incoming call.

“Excuse me... Would you bother?” She stated, seeming embarrassed by the rude interjection, pointing to the device. The blonde simply cracked a chuckle, murmuring a playful ‘go ahead’ as the chanteuse temporarily left the room rather agitated. Now alone, the casino owner's trademark comments didn’t take long to be present.

“Look at this place, Doc. Our dear victim had an obsession with order... And birds too,” Ratio huffed at the ludopath's clarification, retorting. “Supremely upstanding, from my own consideration.”

Aventurine rolled his eyes, his voice now taunting as he began to snoop around the chamber, ensuring that he missed no little detail and disorganizing everything his palms contacted, resulting in the poor doctor being forced to put everything back where it belonged and ensuring there was no damage. “Of course you would say something like that, Doc.”

“What does-” Before the erudite could manage to conclude, the casino owner suddenly raised his head, striding towards the room's entrance door. Leaning his body back, overstepping the frame, he contemplated the performer pacing from one side of the living room to the other nervously as he sharpened his hearing. The Cristatus was gossiping on the call. Tilting his head to one side, the taller male allowed him to listen for a few instants just prior to noticing how impolite they were being.

Emitting a noise of agreement, the blond said. “It appears that Miss Robin is having some issues with her agency due to the time off she wants to take.” He proceeded with eavesdropping, fortunately earning the good fortune of not being scolded by the opposite merely on this occasion for conveying his findings.

A couple of minutes elapsed in the same fashion as Aventurine resumed causing havoc by rummaging through. Ratio was being forced to straighten it out while he, too, researched. That is, until the purple-haired male opened a drawer of the spruce desk, chaotic by the owner's action, which, shockingly, highlighted a business card among the documents.

Becoming aware of the professor's shift in focus, he approached, moving slightly ahead, nearly leaning on the Arachnoeidés. The card was crafted from couché paper, with a minimalist, albeit elegant, presentation. In the center stood out a logo of an eye with a few threads around it, ‘simple, yet concise,’ thought the gambler; beneath it was engraved the name “Voices of the Firmament,” followed by a motto, "Voices that dissolve into the eternal, only to return, adorned with tranquility.”

Aside from this, the card was blank; virtually nothing else was written on it except for a terse ‘this is from dad’ on the back. Even the hue of colors was exceedingly insipid, solely possessing black and white, perhaps to spare the costs of mass printing. Whatever it was, Aventurine and Ratio glanced back at each other, agreeing that it was a clue.

After inquiring for a while longer without results, they decided to conclude the visit. Exiting the bedroom, they overheard the woman's vocal tone gradually increasing in volume, most likely weary of having to debate with her manager on the phone for a prolonged period of time. Upon catching a glimpse of them, the female muted the call, blushing subtly in embarrassment as she apologized to the males for leaving them so abruptly and not being a proper hostess.

“Please let me know if you find anything concerning my brother... And once again, I'm sorry for being such a rude houseguest. I'll make sure to provide you with something to eat next time.” Singer articulated, still chagrined, the wings on her lower back fluttering.

The Cristatus replied, feeling reassured thanks to the lead they had collected. “Don't worry, Miss Robin, we'll keep in contact with you regarding any progress.” Ratio paced behind him, bowing politely with a ‘farewell, I am deeply grateful for your help’ before the two of them retreated.

The two men exited the residential complex. Ratio, weary from the conversation and the strenuous research unfolding in his brain, opted to lean his frame against the brick wall of the building, emitting a heavy sigh.

Aventurine, in contrast, entwined his hands behind himself, bending faintly forward, his sugary countenance mildly teasing the scholar as he felt it seep into himself, regardless of having his eyes currently closed.

“Seems like we're back to the original premise, Doc.” The blond mentioned, leisurely and playfully pacing back and forth in front of the purple-haired male, attempting to pester him. "Regarding my honest opinion, I don't consider that Miss Robin is lying. The young lady genuinely had some communication issues with her brother, but, subsequently, her career renders her hardly viable of-" suddenly, the owner was disrupted by a muffled thud.

The professor cracked his eyelids open, initially believing that it had been the opposite's handiwork, either on purpose or because he had stumbled. Nonetheless, upon catching sight of the shorter man with his gaze perched on the alley separating the buildings, he tilted his head vaguely to one side.

Following a fleeting moment of silence, another noise, this time metallic, was heard, accompanied by a gentle meowing cry. The golden-haired man couldn't contain himself, his expression morphing into a surprised one with his mouth parting slightly, snuggling closer towards the secluded alleyway. After some inner deliberation, Ratio paced behind him, his arms still folded in front of his torso.

Each began to observe the scene warily, striving to gauge where the animal noises were coming from. After a transitory search, dusk and cyan eyes fell upon tiny, fluffy creatures on the floor. Again, mewls reverberated through the ceramic walls as a trio of critters quivered in place. Aventurine was the first to approach, meticulously crouching low to the ground, closing the distance with the culprits of the short-lived ruckus.

The shorter male uttered a surprised sound, gradually bringing his palm closer to the creatures piled one on top of the other on the pavement, the latter ones accepting the physical contact and allowing themselves to be petted while emitting purrs.

“Look at them, Doc. They seem like cats... But they're slightly different.” The blond stated. Moved by curiosity, Ratio cast a more focused and attentive glance at them. It was true, they resembled felines. Their gestures, the way they wiggled, the attempts at communication, and other characteristics were extremely reminiscent of those from that species. Nevertheless, they were also entirely distinct from an ordinary domestic cat.

The first thing was their aroma, wafting a sweet fragrance- smelling exceedingly caramelized despite the mask on his face- that seeped into the atmosphere. It was not overly bothersome, but certainly unheard of for animals. Secondly, there was their appearance. Their cute, tiny black bodies were squishy and fluffy, yet their irises glowed a rich yellow, shimmering even in the dim lighting of the narrow lane.

Likewise, a few odd traits were visible to the naked eye, exposing their peculiar nature. One of them had two tails and small protuberances on its fur that simulated perfectly cut pieces of peach. Another had small ruby spheres next to its ears, from which rose short greenish antennae, resembling cherries. The last of the... ‘felines,’ if they could be called that, appeared enormously puffy in such a degree that, in spite of everything, it did not feign to render its siblings more diminutive than itself.

The three kitties squealed as Aventurine scooped one of them up into his embrace.

“How adorable, Doc! Where did these three come from?” Wondered the blond, beginning the cuddles directed to the critter lying in his lap, the other two noticing the interaction, awkwardly approached, meowing rowdier and demanding the equivalent amount of affection for all three of them. The owner let out a giggle in reply, indulging the request.

Ratio, though, peered out into the streets of Pier Point. If he was guessing accurately, Ruan Mei's laboratories were located in relative proximity to this neighborhood. Rubbing his temple, the dots in his skull started to merge together in a continuous pattern, conceiving a theory. These small kittens were most definitely part of the scientist's experiments.

Meditating about it, the woman was neglectful enough with her creations to let these three creatures escape and travel around the city (or at least what they could manage) on their own.

He doubted they were clever enough to elope far away to an exceedingly distant location; most likely, the trio helped each other out, and now they didn't know where to go. Closing his eyelids, he could almost vow that he heard them whining and calling out to their creator, 'Ruan Mei! Pay attention to us! We want Ruan Mei to be proud of us!' The purple-haired man exhaled an additional breath at the prospect.

“A colleague of mine works at the laboratories hereabouts. I reckon some of her... 'research' culminated in fleeing upon seizing the opportunity. The best approach would be to return them.” Prior to the scholar's conclusion, the gambler had swiftly turned his head back, the cyan and magenta irises resting upon himself, albeit now displaying a faint disappointment in them. The stare reflected... a succinct sense of deception.

“Is that so?... No wonder they don't look like ordinary cats, they seem kinda funny.” The blond pointed out, rapidly waving the fur of one of them with his hand, purposely tousling it. “It's amazing to think that these cute little kittens escaped from such an imposing lab...”

Regardless of the innocent comment, the query did not go unnoticed by the purple-haired male. He perceived what the blond was silently attempting to convey from the fond expression on his visage.

'Will they be alright in that place?'

Ratio's countenance softened at the contemplation. Considering the woman's disposition with her 'inventions', they probably weren't in for a very pleasant environment. The scholar crossed his arms anew, now uneasy and vexed by the idea resonating in his mind, on the brink of granting the point to the gambler.

Even though the words wanted to spill from his tongue, the doctor remained quiet, chewing the inside of his cheek. Was he seriously considering the casino owner- of all the prospective candidates interested in caring for such adorable kitties- a feasible alternative for looking after the tiny critters? Had the blond's presence at this job affected him permanently? The taller one huffed.

Nevertheless, parting his lips, his psyche prompted him to examine the golden-haired male for one last time. Complying with the ephemeral whim of his mind, the blend of warm hues fell upon the contrary, marveling at the Cristatus' utterance... Of Aventurine.

A rueful and almost imperceptible genuine smile rested on his face, lulling the soft kittens to sleep. In that split second, the professor recalled the lines recited by Black Swan at their secret gathering, conversing about the gambler. The prospect that the individual in his line of sight was the most elusive multi-millionaire in Pier Point struck him as ludicrous.

‘If, and only if the providence shows me THEIR back, I deeply long to think that my hands would grasp, claw, and stretch until I finally find a fundamental reason to continue my existence,’ the fortune teller had advised him in the past. This was decidedly not an ulterior reason to continue forward, but it was a beautiful motivation that, at its best, would deliver a positive outcome to the ludopath.

“I may discuss the matter with my colleague... She unquestionably won't be inconvenienced by the absence of two or three of her experiments.” Replied the taller male almost automatically at the scene, with a gentler tone compared to his usual voice. Aventurine, in return, returned the favor with a hopeful twinkle in his features. “Just take good care of them. I will liaise with her to understand which actions are required for their respective needs.”

The golden-haired man felt quite pleased at the prospect, promptly letting the doctor understand that he had never looked after an animal before. His brain inquired anew, reprimanding himself for such a hasty decision. However, there was something within him providing reassurance that those three little ones would be safe living with the other male.

“Would you like to name one, Doc?” The casino owner consulted. Ratio stayed silent, perplexed at the question. The other man rose, the three kittens in his embrace meowing lustily. “I was asking if you'd want to name one of them.” He repeated, approaching the scholar, one of the smaller creatures licking the professor's palm.

“Tangent.” He retorted sternly and decisively.

Aventurine glanced at him as if he had uttered the most illogical name ever to exist.

Ratio did not retract his statement.

The gambler released a rather uncomfortable laugh at the notion of having one of the kitties receiving such a designation.

“... What do you say, Doc, if we settle on an agreement and name the three little ones something related to algebra-”

“Trigonometry.” Interjected the scholar adamantly.

“-Trigonometry.” Reiterated the owner. “Is that an agreement, Doc?” He announced with a smug gesture, seeking to persuade the purple-haired man not to condemn the kitten with such a label.

“Sine, Cosine, and Tangent.” Ratio chimed in, implying the names to the wind. The blond had to try his hardest not to grimace in dismay at the proposition. The doctor was agonizingly terrible at bestowing names.

“Sine,” he proclaimed, gesturing to the feline with cherries on its fluffy head, currently licking the professor's hand. “Cosmo,” this time he pointed to the incredibly fuzzy little puss wriggling in his arms. “... And Tangy.” He finally stated, tagging the kitten with peach slices on its body, striving to move closer to the sunlight filtering in from the sidewalk while still not leaving the lap of the golden-haired man.

The scholar narrowed his eyes briefly.

Aventurine remained in place, experiencing the opponent's attention on him.

Several seconds spent in this manner, Ratio grumbled, conceding the choice to him. “Very well, then so be it.” The blond inwardly celebrated his triumph.

It was early morning. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere offered by the moon and the serenity of the quiet streets of Pier Point, a body lay sleeping peacefully on the fluffy sheets, resting with the purpose of bracing himself for the day that was gradually approaching.

Or at least, that's what he was striving to do, right before the notifications blaring repeatedly from his phone and echoing throughout the bedroom forced him to abandon his blissful slumber.

Grunting and muttering under his breath, the man took a seat on his bed. His eyes were irritated, and his hair was a mess, strands spreading in all directions. Cupping his palms over his face, he released a groan of irritation once more, stretching out his hands, grabbing his cell phone, checking it, and wishing that the interruption of his rest had not been in vain.

Rather, as the screen enlightened a vast section of the chamber, the ‘pressing messages’ leapt into view. It was Aventurine, texting him yet again in the wee hours of the morning.

[12:12 AM]
“Doc…”
“It’s not that I’m freaking out”
“But…”
“Can cats talk?!”
[Voice message 0:37]
“Is this normal?!?!”
[Sticker of scared Wubbaboo]
[This user has been blocked]
[Dr. Ratio has gone offline]

Fighting the urge to throw his phone out of the window and lecture himself for handing over his contact to the casino owner, he returned to his original position, lounging on his bed. Fluttering his eyelids closed, he concluded, ‘I'm going to unblock him tomorrow,’ as he settled back down to continue sleeping.

Chapter Text

Solitude was a familiar feeling to which he was well accustomed.

For as long as he had memory, Ratio had always maintained a barrier between himself and the external world. A pitch, black chamber isolating him from people orbiting around him, from anyone who might ever have thought of admiring him, from those who sought him with the purpose of engaging in conversation or establishing a friendship, even from his own family. Thus, creating a high wall in the process, his frame inhabited the vacant space contained within the reinforced steel.

Truthfully, Veritas had no idea when all of this had begun. He never managed to grasp the exact instant in which the distance became so painfully vast and so convoluted to shorten that it appeared preferable to drown in his sorrows rather than open up to another person. At what point had he ceased to be human in the eyes of others? At which moment had he grown complacent with this pitiful manner of living? At which miserable instance had he neglected the words inscribed in the countless letters neatly tucked away in his desk cabinet with authorship from his now-absent parents?

The Arachnoeidés could not commemorate it. He was unable to emerge with the answers to those intimate queries, physically incapable of self-diagnosis, of patting himself on the back, and requesting his own self to leave it all behind and start anew.

Ratio considered that his awareness of how thoroughly human his situation felt was the worst part. Lucid enough to acknowledge it, yet not completely competent for his brilliant intellect to succeed in escaping the cluelessness that dragged on his brain regarding the probing inquiry of ‘how to solve it’.

Because no human surrounding the enormous walls would even, in their darkest anecdotes and notions, envision the Doctor Veritas Ratio afflicted by that greatest of man's illnesses, his very own humanity.

The only thing... All he could remember was the day on which his dreams, painted in feathers and colored inks, folded in letters and papyrus, in embraces of warmth, vanished, leaving a powdery trail behind his barefoot footsteps.

A young Veritas, at the tender age of seven, faced a coffin, clasping in his hand a single white chrysanthemum. The meager flower plucked by the boy himself from his teacher's perfectly cultivated botanical garden, following a remarkably brief contemplation of which blossom best symbolized a parting present for his father and encapsulated his sentiments towards him. The little child observed the dark, costly wood gently sunk into the hollow dug in the midst of the grass listlessly. The hands of his guardian, who stood behind him, rested on his shoulders, squeezing them from time to time, as if attempting to comfort him, although the boy had not shed a single tear during the entire ceremony.

Directing his gaze back to the man, he detected a pained and helpless countenance and, shutting his eyes, the child released a heavy breath. It was to be expected, his father and teacher had been close colleagues from before his birth. It was not a coincidence that the former had asked the pedagogue to look after his only son shortly after his mother's death.

The atmosphere was tense and disconsolate. The boy attempted to glance at the rest of those present; nevertheless, just by directing his twilight eyes towards them, the opposing gazes diverted, sneaking behind palms, handkerchiefs, and other items. Veritas merely raised the chrysanthemum to his lips, concealing his own features and the thin protruding lines from the corners of his lips on the flower.

Suddenly, everything was over.

Suddenly, he was alone.

Suddenly, he found himself unable to disappear.

Ratio inhaled deeply, the chrysanthemum still lying on his palms, allowing himself to be driven by emotions until he reached a realization. This day would be forever imprinted on his being.

Blonde locks of hair lay peacefully on the plush, warm, feather-filled pillows. It had been a profitable night at the casino. Albeit to this extent, it was deemed the ordinary standard, an act far too insignificant to be celebrated.

Last night's champagne, nonetheless, had been unaccountably sugary. Upon questioning one of the waiters and following a brief pause upon ascertaining the brand, he was astonished to discover that it happened to be his regular. Had the recipe been altered? Well, at least the owner could attest that it had favored them, especially by ordering two full bottles to enjoy in the comfort of his own apartment.

In any case, he needed to rest. A frazzled or preoccupied appearance could raise unnecessary gossip. Though he had generally grown accustomed to this lifestyle and the various hassles it entailed, no matter how frequently such rumors occurred, they always succeeded in irritating him.

Currently, the bedroom was obscured by dark silk curtains, the window was partially closed, thus permitting him to enjoy a peaceful slumber after a busy afternoon full of research and an exhausting work night...

At least, that's how it felt at the beginning.

Suddenly, his drowsiness was halted by an unforeseen, sudden heaviness in his chest, accompanied by incessant meowing and a caramel-like scent. Opening his eyes, he was met face to face with black fur and a piercing stare of yellow irises, immediately followed by a lingering lick on his cheek. Aventurine stood up abruptly, hugging the fuzzy critter to his chest and peering bewilderedly around, his mind still adjusting to being disrupted in such a manner.

Returning his sight to the bed, he became aware of the other two feline companions lounging there, rustling and rolling around in the smooth sheets. The blond rubbed one of his eyes as the cat in his arms- Tangy, the one with the tiny chunks of peach on its body- fiddled with the buttons of his pyjamas.

Had they run out of food? Checking the clock and noting that it was 7:00 am, the man mumbled through his teeth. It was quite far off the time he would usually wake up. Setting the kitten on the floor, he strolled leisurely towards the living room, the place where he'd placed the bowls of food purchased the previous day as he made his way back to his apartment (an act which had taken a much more significant effort than Aventurine was willing to admit in order to avoid crashing the car due to the disturbance provoked by the three small creatures perched on the passenger seat).

The three felines gleefully followed, mewing and fussing. 'Are cats typically this noisy?' he wondered internally as his bare feet elicited muffled thuds against the ground. Upon arriving at the room, though, he discovered the three plates entirely stocked with the exceedingly expensive cat food he'd selected the evening before. The casino owner made sure to select the best quality, tastiest, and most nutrient-rich meal for them. But, apparently, his endeavors proved to be futile. From the sight in front of him, the three ‘troublemakers’ had chosen not to even glance at the bowls.

"Are you guys hungry? There's still food there, a delicious chicken and tuna flavored meal~" The blond mentioned in a gravely, weary voice, clearly betraying that he'd recently woken up.

Encouraged, he watched as Sine- the cat with cherries on its head- hopped closer towards one of the plates, sniffing it thoroughly before emitting a squeal eerily resembling a human “no!”, knocking the plate over with its paw and spilling it all over the floor.

Aventurine repeatedly opened and closed his mouth as if he were a fish out of water. 'Did he just speak or is my mind starting to hallucinate from lack of sleep?' he mentally probed. The gambler shook his head, struggling to dispel the sluggishness still lingering through his body. That's right, he remembered now. He'd texted Ratio at midnight, wondering the exact same thing after hearing one of the kitties crying out for someone. “Ruan Mei...” he believed he heard.

Still... Looking back, perhaps it had not been a wise decision to message the doctor at such an hour, because some minutes later, he found himself being blocked, according by the fact that the profile picture of the abstract painting of the opposite man had turned into the typical shape of a person upon receiving a message from an unregistered contact and also due to the lack of delivery of his remaining texts.

The golden-haired man returned to his room, picking up the still-charging phone on the nightstand, texting the scholar, whom he assumed was awake by this hour, and heading back to the kittens, which were still fussing.

[This user has been unblocked]
[7:37 AM]
"Hey Doc!"
"Sorry for messaging you so late yesterday"
[Disappointed Wubbaboo emoji]
"Apparently these little troublemakers don't like cat food"
"And apparently they can talk..."
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Have you been able to talk with your colleague?"

The casino owner started to meticulously collect the remnants of the cat food now strewn on the ground, wiping the place clean and removing the other bowls as well, avoiding further disasters. The felines were actively attempting to entangle themselves between his legs, meowing loudly, clamoring for affection, and presumably demanding their meals. It wasn't long before his mobile rang. Checking it, he noticed that Ratio had answered.

[Confused Wubbaboo emoji]
[7:45 AM]
[Dr. Ratio has connected]
"Good morning, Aventurine."
"What an unexpected surprise to receive a message from you at this hour."
"Regrettably, I have not yet succeeded in establishing communication with my colleague."
"Nevertheless, based on preliminary observations, it is highly plausible that the organisms in question are capable of communicative behavior exceeding baseline expectations for their kind."
"If they have shown resistance to consuming standard feline food, it is likely they possess the cognitive ability to express their preferences."
[Dr. Ratio has disconnected]

The gambler stood there, assimilating the words displayed on the screen for an instant before tilting his head slightly to one side, distinctly bewildered. 'Express their preferences?' What was Ratio intending? For him to carry the cats to the fridge and let them choose their breakfast?

An awkward silence settled over the air as his brain considered the idea. He was aware that, otherwise, the critters wouldn't let him sleep for the rest of the morning. Resentful and faintly indignant at what was happening, the blond paced to the kitchen, opening the overly-complex refrigerator, the cats nearly jumping with glee at the glimpse of the food inside.

“Let's see... I've got canned tuna, some meat, and fish-” The kitties interrupted him, squeaking more noisily, as if they were complaining at the prospect. "Right... All right, all right, I hear you, none of that! What do you want to eat then?”

The three furballs waddled closer to the fridge, assimilating the contents in it prior to Cosmo- the fluffiest of them all- pointing with its paw at the box containing ice cream inside. Aventurine brushed a hand through his hair in exasperation. This was not happening.

“Ice cream? Can cats even consume-?” Again, the poor ludopath was promptly cut off by a wave of capricious mewls. To think he'd recently purchased the pack, as well as it being his favorite flavor! Dubiously withdrawing it from the freezer and scooping some into a nearby dish, he offered it to the cats. In a couple of minutes, they had devoured the snack and, now satisfied, resolved to settle down on the linen sofa, stretching out and kneading the soft cushions.

The golden-haired man perused them intently, debating whether it was possible that he was spoiling them before dismissing the idea after a short period of time, going back to his bed to continue his restful slumber.

The Arachnoeidés wandered inside the laboratory. It was not extremely customary of him to visit the facility, but the casino owner's consultation about the three kittens currently in his custody caused him to clear a space in his schedule to assist; after all, the poor, mischievous kitties couldn't spend excessive time deprived of adequate and nourishing sustenance. In addition, the doctor needed to deliver some reports to Screwllum as well; therefore, the trip was intended to accomplish two tasks on his checklist within a short amount of time.

Ratio made a sound of acknowledgment. He hoped this gathering would not be prolonged, although, knowing the scientist in charge of the feline's origin, he assumed it was most likely not going to be a particular issue. The scholar clenched the documents in his hand, striding towards the room with a grand golden plaque on the entrance, the name “Ruan Mei” emblazoned on it.

In all honesty, the purple-haired man was conscious and preferred the concept of a telephone discussion about the subject. Nevertheless, he was equally aware that attempting to contact the woman by this medium yielded an extremely underwhelming success rate. Knocking cautiously on the door and muttering “excuse me,” he stepped inside.

Upon doing so, the genius remained static in her spot and, without removing her gaze from her work, she spoke. “Ratio, welcome.” The laboratory was permeated by the stench of disinfectant and chlorine, yet the fragrances of a couple of nearby artificially created plants managed to seep past his facemask. In this environment, the sole source of contrasting hues to the dead white of the walls, floor, and ceiling came from Ruan Mei's creations and experimentations, some of which were roaming around the premises, and some others were contained in large flasks with a greenish-colored substance inside.

Unwelcoming, however, quite consistent with the scientist.

The former was currently holding her hair in a bun held in place by a double-helix hairpin adorned with tiny greenish and bluish gemstones, strikingly resembling a DNA sequence. Across her face sat a pair of ellipse-shaped, cyan-tinted glasses, accompanied by a chain with reddish pearl lenses for them to remain around her neck while not using them. Likewise, she was simultaneously wearing a long, graceful dress with cool, muted shades, along with gold and white floral patterns painstakingly hand-embroidered.

As required, she was dressed in a lab coat, custom-sewn with long and loose sleeves, from which crimson strips were visible encircling her wrist, presumably intended to be adjusted in the event of manipulating any outstanding element or substance. Similar to her outfit, it had designs embroidered with threads that appeared to be made of gold. Her dark gray gloves were not absent, extending underneath the robe. To complement the look, she sported a plain pair of translucent jeweled earrings.

“Doctor Mei.” Ratio retorted in a respectful and calm tone. “I apologize for the disruption.” That was the moment in which the woman lifted her head, rotating it lightly towards the location where the erudite stood, still lounging at her desk, holding a pen in her hand.

"Not a bother. However, I have to admit our encounters are not frequent. What is the purpose of this visit?" ‘Concise,’ added the scholar's mind, slowly approaching the scientist, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket, and browsing through it, searching for various pictures as he began to speak.

"During an investigation recently conducted on my behalf by the Corporation, certain creatures resembling felines were located in the vicinity of The Family's residences. Given the proximity of the premises to the laboratories, the prospect of these organisms belonging to one of your... Experiments emerged." Showing the photo that he had requested from Aventurine this morning of the kittens, and displaying it on his phone, the doctor made a pause, letting the woman peruse it. The latter grasped the device in her palms, inspecting it with a hint of detachment.

"Unfortunately, a work colleague who happened to be with me when this incident happened seemed to have developed an... Attachment to these critters in such a way that they are currently residing with him. I originally came with the purpose of ascertaining whether there were any drawbacks to this and, otherwise, to determine what sort of maintenance the creatures need, taking into consideration their nature."

Ruan Mei regarded him back, her eyes ever so slightly wider than ordinary, albeit her expression stayed composed. Ratio promptly caught the minor shift, quietly and subtly tilting his head to the side, as if questioning the reason for the scrutiny. Within a few seconds, the scientist resumed scanning the device, turning to the holographic monitor and browsing through it.

"Apologies. It's not exactly... A routine for you to conduct a solicitation regarding another individual. Are you two close?" Ratio frowned in return, shaking his head promptly before retorting. "We are merely coworkers. Nonetheless, he was so excited by the notion that I didn't have the opportunity to negate his fleeting wish to adopt the felines."

There was a second pause of a few split seconds as the woman typed on the screen, before deftly continuing her research. "You couldn't refuse? How peculiar."

The erudite further deepened his displeased countenance, but opted not to comment further on the subject. Soon after, Ruan Mei effected a clarification noise. "That is correct. Certain series of the C4T - C4K3 have been reported missing. Regardless, they have been declared as non-viable for deeper scrutiny, and several are now residing in the lab's common spaces. I don't consider there to be a major inconvenience with your colleague making use of them."

The purple-haired man nodded. "Likewise, the felines belong to an artificial species created based on several of my favorite desserts. As you might guess, their primary nourishment consists of sweet, high-glucose snacks, particularly based on the amount of energy they consume and how disruptive they may become. In addition, adequate hydration is also strongly recommended."

In other words, taking care of the kittens was not going to be child's play.

“Is there anything else I require to know, Dr. Mei?” She mused, reminiscing about the creatures' old discarded notes.

"They have a higher level of consciousness than any domestic animal; therefore, they demand positive companionship, preferably reinforced by rewards. I'm sure they will be able to report any necessity they come to lack."

"Very well. I will inform him so." Articulated the man. Following a few brief acknowledgements and farewells while maintaining a professional tone, Ratio left the scene. The scientist, in return, rested her head on one of her palms, propped with her elbow on the desk, observing the door for a while before resuming her work.

Once more, Ratio found himself waiting. This time, in front of the residential building in which he lived, and once again, he was off schedule because of the blond. With his arms crossed and an irritated appearance, the purple-haired man glanced down the street, his foot tapping repeatedly on the pavement in a gesture of growing impatience.

It was after five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later that he was able to locate, out of the corner of his eye, the casino owner, approaching at a brisk pace while maintaining the mischievous grin on his face. At the sight of Ratio, his satisfaction seemed to increase, waving from afar to the erudite and shifting the direction of his footsteps slightly; the long black jacket he wore swaying at his rhythm.

"You're late. By five minutes and fifty-nine seconds." The doctor declared with an aggravated voice the moment Aventurine was sufficiently close. The gambler, in response, emitted a saccharine chuckle, adjusting the sleeves of his turquoise shirt in an attempt to disguise the peacock feathers on his arms.

“Good afternoon, Doc. I'm happy to see you're keeping up your regular vigor.” Answered the blond in a mocking tone. "Five minutes? I'd say this is a new record. Shouldn't I deserve a positive reinforcement for not taking that long?"

The professor rolled his eyes, releasing a weighty breath into the air. "I fail to identify a reason why you deserve this... Positive reinforcement. You are unpunctual for the investigation. Again." His voice came out dry and monotone, as he rechecked the watch on his wrist, estimating how long it might take them to walk to the designated location. Nevertheless, the man quickly noticed the opposite's unresponsiveness and, lifting his head, his sunset eyes made contact with dark hues, differing from the cyan and magenta colors that normally originated from the opposite. It would appear that the Cristatus had taken this ‘infiltration’ quite seriously.

“Is something wrong?” Ratio asked, tilting his head faintly. Aventurine examined him a moment further prior to addressing him.

“It's nothing, Doc. It's simply... Are you planning to attend dressed like that?” The shorter man indicated, gesturing tentatively with his palms- covered by cotton gloves- towards his own choice of clothing.

It consisted of a navy blue blouse, with white thread embroidery on the sleeves and on the part corresponding to the front pocket of the garment. His pants were gray and baggy, fastened by a sleek black belt. On his hair rested a simplified version of his trademark laurel wreath; the latter being a gold brooch with meticulous workmanship. In addition, as was now standard for the scholar, a white facemask covered his visage, and his warm-toned eyes garnered significant attention.

“Like this?” The erudite inquired, bemused by the casino owner's statement.

The blond chuckled. “I mean, Doctor, the facemask and your... wardrobe preferences are making you stand out too much, or have you perhaps forgotten that we are engaging in an undercover operation?”

Ratio shrank in place, the facial features visible beyond the mask displaying awkwardness. In fairness, he'd had certain struggles while selecting the garments to wear. "It's not as if I had a greater alternative. It's... Complex to conceal the chelicerae on my factions." He answered back.

The Cristatus retained his contented and calm demeanor, grasping the Arachnoeidés' wrist as he dragged him back into the lobby of the building, heading to the elevator. The professor matched his stride, bewildered at being yanked without warning by Aventurine's sudden action. “Come on, Doc, I'm sure I can do something about it.”

The taller man attempted to halt him, not wishing to waste any more time dedicated to the mission over something as unnecessary, and which he assured no one would think twice about, as his wardrobe was. "This is ludicrous. I am certain the people present will not realize it. Furthermore, we are currently in a significant time delay-"

The casino owner stopped him before he could continue offering excuses. "Ratio, you are the only type of person who would bother to be early for a cult meeting. Just come with me, I'm confident we'll arrive at a good time."

'It's possible...‘ His mind began to speculate as the blond man rummaged through his closet, retrieving several more casual clothes that were more befitting for the scenario of 'entering a religious gathering unnoticed,’ despite the contrary's previously labeling it a cult. 'It is possible that I have grown to be a little too permissive with Aventurine.'

Ratio was seated on the bed. His own bed, in his apartment, massaging the bridge of his nose and inspecting the clock hanging on the wall every chance he got. Somehow, he had let the opposite into the premises. Although... To give the gambler credit, the selection didn't persist for a vast quantity of time, most likely due to the fact that his closet didn't possess an inordinately ample stock of garments and accessories in it.

The professor ended up dressing in an outfit with a short-sleeved black shirt and simple gray trousers, with an unremarkable belt. The shorter man had provided him with a rubber band to tie his hair into a low ponytail and also removed the brooch earlier affixed to his hair.

However, the casino owner was not satisfied yet.

“Doc, could you take off your mask?” The contrary said, digging through his pockets. The professor still looked unwilling to comply with the instructions, prompting the blond to huff under his breath.

“Is this really necessary?” The erudite consulted. Aventurine nodded in agreement, determined as to what he was about to do, speaking up once more. “The facemask attracts a fair amount of unwanted attention.” The Cristatus articulated, drawing a tiny bottle from his pocket. The doctor picked it up in his hands, slowly inspecting the label.

“Liquid latex?” Questioned the purple-haired man.

“I had a feeling you'd resort to the mask, so I decided to buy it.” Confessed the Cristatus, folding his arms in a triumphant countenance. He had been right, after all. “It'll be just enough to temporarily conceal the chelicerae, you should give it a try, Doc.”

Ratio sighed, reading the instructions on the reverse side twice, eventually accepting. Upon finishing, his facial appearance showed some imperfections in those areas in which the latex hid the separations on his face, thanks to his lack of expertise as he followed the directions explained to him by the casino's owner. Still, it was enough to hide the distinctive attributes. Nevertheless and overall, he seemed... Different. Even for him, it was uncommon to see himself without a mask and particularly without the thin lines stretching from the commissures of his mouth.

He felt different. Neither in a positive nor negative sense, just different.

The two men strolled through the crowded streets of the city into a somewhat more secluded and isolated area. The scholar retraced the circumstances in his mind, as was customary prior to the beginning of a mission.

Previously, during the meeting with the singer Robin, sister of one of the disappeared victims, it had been discovered that her brother, Sunday, stored information concerning a religious organization that worshipped the Aeon of Order. The exact details had been found on a card which seemed to have belonged to their deceased father, and according to the conversations held with the bartender of the tavern frequented by the Halovian, it was suspected that something had occurred in that establishment to cause the young man's vanishing.

After further research and the localization of the meeting spot through some forums of questionable veracity and retro aesthetics on the internet (which Aventurine had perused with a quick skim before instantly asserting it was a cult), coupled with a huge insistence on behalf of the gambler by bombarding him with an infuriating quantity of text messages begging the doctor not to leave him out of the affair; the two had agreed to attend a gathering together as spectators and actually uncover what was happening.

“You're awfully quiet, Doc. Are you perhaps scared?” The golden-haired man next to him mentioned, fiddling with one of the poker chips he kept stashed in his pocket as they headed for the rendezvous point.

“Nonsense.” Ratio grumbled. “If such were the case, I wouldn't have agreed to attend.” The blond man grinned once again, deciding to slip the chip back into his pants.

“Just kidding, Doctor~” The gambler pestered, prompting the opposite one to roll his eyes in annoyance. As they set off on their way, a silence fell between the two; it was subtly awkward, but not in a manner that forced the men to scrounge for a conversation topic to break out of it.

As they continued their path, the purple-haired man studied the blond beside him. He reckoned it was the first time he'd seen the man dressed up in such a... casual fashion. The owner still looked elegant, but certainly not in a style that screamed his name.

His long-sleeved shirt was devoid of the regular embellishments found on his clothes, especially aimed at disguising his feathered arms, which would reveal his nature and identity in an instant if they were to be exposed. His jacket was black and long, made of a less expensive material than the ones he was used to; cotton, just like the gloves on his hands. Furthermore, his eyes had acquired a dark tint, masking the distinctive colors of his species.

Once his attention had been diverted from the contrary and several minutes had elapsed, the professor spoke again.

“What's your opinion on this circumstance?” He interrogated, folding his arms. The blond regarded him with an intrigued expression as if he wasn't anticipating the query. His vision lingered on the opposite party, who chose not to turn around and return the gesture.

"Well... According to my intuition- as you may already know- I have a hunch that this association may be a cult. It wouldn't be surprising, considering the great devotion to the Aeon of Order that Mr. Gallagher pointed out on our visit to the bar. But..." The shorter man paused, pondering.

“But?” the doctor insisted.

"But...! I find it difficult to believe that all of the victims attended the same gatherings. Sunday's family possessed a history of worshipping Ena. Yet, many of the profiles you handed me to review did not meet this pattern or show an interest in the Aeon. Also, don't you think that, if they were driven in by this ideology, the cult should be more widely known? The websites seem abandoned, and thanks to the cards, it is safe to assume that the invitations were passed by word of mouth." Concluded the casino owner.

Ratio uttered a murmur of assertion, satisfied with the analysis and the fact that the other side had spent time to scrutinize the documents he had submitted. He had to admit, the man was shrewder than he initially presented himself.

"Not bad. Five points." The doctor declared, shutting his eyes and adjusting his posture to a more prideful one.

“Aw, only five?” Laughed the shorter man.

Upon their arrival, the two men were handed white, hooded robes adorned with grayish thorn motifs and a brilliant golden interior. As Aventurine had predicted, although they were running considerably late, there were still people in the lobby changing into their garments and heading into the corridors.

The blond was obliged to deposit his jacket in one of the entrance compartments, particularly in an individual locked cabinet; the key was likewise supplied by the people monitoring the doorway.

Quietly, they both mirrored the movement of those gathered, following the small groups of people strolling through the venue, their footsteps echoing on the weathered oak wood that covered the floor. The atmosphere was serene, and the site resembled an old house, moderately maintained in the event of any particular situations or special appointments unfolding in it.

Stepping into the main hall, they were able to appreciate a reasonably large area, or at least, as large as the old building would permit. The scholar made the estimate that about eighty guests could manage to fit in, cramming into the limited room they had.

The entire environment conveyed a mysterious sentiment and a rustic theme simultaneously. The furniture was antique, some of which exhibited noticeable imperfections. Certain benches being used to accommodate visitors were creaky, and a few were even wobbly. The fanciest fixture of the entire scene appeared to be the altar located at the front, being ornamented by a white, well-laundered tablecloth and pearl necklaces of reddish, yellowish, white, and lilac hues.

There was poor ventilation throughout the area. The windows were kept shut, with some of them possessing floral stained glass panels and symbolism on them. Additionally, by glancing at the ceiling, it was possible to distinguish some artificial and origami bird figurines suspended using transparent nylon thread. Ratio took note of this, reminiscing on the countless images and pictures of birds discovered in Sunday's bedroom.

The place itself reeked of incense and gravel, eliciting a grimace of displeasure from the casino owner's features that quickly vanished after the doctor tugged lightly on his robe, a reminder to retain his composure. They both settled into the uncomfortable and noisy wooden benches at the back, close to the doors, in the event of any unforeseen circumstances.

An elderly woman, in the meantime, took her place beside Aventurine, adjusting her glasses and leaving her cane to rest on the floor in front of her. The Cristatus stayed at his position, contemplating. Intriguingly, the scene made him recall those stories that someone quite close to him once told him. Those early days in which he was still an infant, learning to walk around the sandy regions of his home planet, playing with his sister, and unconsciously joining her in scavenging the surrounding landscape as his mother spent time at home, weaving a few blankets to keep them warm during the freezing nights of the desert.

The ruggedness of the ambiance embraced him in tranquility, his sight lost itself in the scramble of religious items and vague memories he evoked of his own, nearly forgotten homeland, back to the time when the place he inhabited truly felt like belonging, like his own rather than an empty, desolate and lifeless area despite not commemorating it accurately.

Familiar it was. In a bizarre and distorted sense.

Soon, the old woman next to them handed out a few pieces of paper, which were being handed out to those present. These contained the lyrics of numerous songs along with their respective music sheet. Most of them were pretty straightforward and repetitive, with presumptuous titles at the top of the pages. Yet, there were more complex ones written in a language that the casino owner could not identify.

Returning his gaze to the taller man next to him, he caught a glimpse of the gesture coming from the opposite side; focused and absorbed in his musings, carefully analyzing the printed sentences until a spark of knowledge flashed across his visage, at last recognizing the language... Ratio seemed different without the mask he was accustomed to using, and without the chelicerae, he now carried a new, distinct mood with him; more youthful. Snorting softly and showing a fleeting smile on his face, the gambler refocused on his own page. 'Typical of the Doctor,' he mused.

Thus, they remained in their seats until a choir intoned a graceful and harmonious melody, echoing and sweeping over the narrow chapel. The tonality was beautiful, evoking memories of the time when the Cristatus had been invited to attend the concert of a symphonic orchestra. It wasn't long before they both grasped the full significance of the sheets. They depicted chants and prayers consecrated to the Aeon of Order.

Quickly, the symphony stretched over the venue like a warm, embracing mantle. The two men were uncertain as to what precisely it was caused by, but the harmonic chorus appeared to resonate and create a special emphasis on each voice there. Each vocalist performed their own unique space and personal prayers to the authority of the Order. The appellation that they acquired and denoted on the invitation cards was not a mere coincidence. “Voices of the Firmament,” a space specially constructed to worship Ena, the Aeon of the Order.

The music captured it, the perfectly arranged and attuned voices united in a strict and refined psalm of freedom under absolute guardianship. It was imposing, making the chapel acquire a profound meaning, a new atmosphere devoted to something much more profound than a mere gathering. Both men peered around for a brief moment prior to shifting their focus back to the music charts and choruses. No one there looked willing to depart, the very concept not even manifesting itself in their wishes.

Regardless of the uncanny surroundings and the increasing awareness among the two men to not remain there for long, the action of abandoning the area in the midst of the chorus could signify greater problems. Likewise and unfortunately, to prevent erroneous conjectures, they were compelled to stay for the entire length of the event, reciting the imprinted proverbs.

The granny next to Aventurine had nudged him occasionally for refusing to sing and trying to soothe his throat, casting a sidelong glance at him whenever he mispronounced a sentence. Ratio, on the other hand, looked exceedingly irritated after performing the tune on the first page for the umpteenth time and wasting two whole hours intoning words.

When everything concluded, a young man stepped in front of the altar, inviting the devotees to participate in another session that would be held the following week, scheduled for the same hour agreed upon today. People started to rise and slowly depart without exchanging conversation, which included the old woman with the cane. The scholar and the blond did not wait for long, walking towards the entrance, returning the robes and retrieving the shorter man's jacket by using the locker key.

“Well, Doc, that was certainly boring.” Mentioned the gambler with a smirk on his features, extending his arms towards the faintly overcast city sky as he stretched. “I need a glass of water after that alleged infiltration, that granny kept giving me dirty looks for not singing properly.”

The professor, in exchange, grumbled under his breath. “With such numerous reiterations of the identical proverbs, it is disappointing to acknowledge the fact that you continued to mispronounce the lyrics.” Crossing his arms, he shifted his gaze back to the shorter one. “Nevertheless, the chants were exceedingly wearisome and lacking in an enjoyable symphonic rhythm, for which I do not entirely fault your dearth of memorization.”

Aventurine returned an impish sneer. “What score would you give those proverbs, Doctor?”

“Zero points.” Sharply replied the purple-haired man. Much as the blond, he was certain he was going to require a glass of water afterwards of that... 'Investigation.'

“Ouch, how harsh!” Nagged the opposite, prior to the quietness settling between the two of them once more. This time, though, the erudite noticed it was heavier, amplified with a newfound tension buried inside. The owner of the casino appeared to be immersed in his thoughts, meditating upon something he didn't dare to vocalize. Without reflecting on it properly, the doctor resolved to inquire. “Is something the matter?”

The phrase seemed to draw the ludopath out of his musings, snapping him back into the present. The opposite man hurriedly answered. “No, not at all, Doc!” Motioning with his palms, he blurted out a rather uncomfortable chuckle. “I just wondered how Sunday happened to end up in a place like this, thinking it was the solution to all his personal struggles.”

The taller man shifted his focus back to the sidewalk, shoes echoing on the concrete as he carefully picked his lines. "It is complex to believe for non-devoted individuals such as ourselves. Notwithstanding that, faiths and ideologies are commonly quite ingrained into the masses, and on countless instances they function as a security mantle in the face of uncertainty." Ratio remarked, eliciting a short pause. "Sunday must have seen that space as an opportunity to embark on a new journey- or, on the other hand- as a passed down tradition, stemming from his adoptive father. In his absence, I regret that it is unfeasible to receive such confirmation."

The Cristatus uttered a noise of assertion, delving his hand into his pocket and fiddling with the poker chip still residing in it, thoughtfully rationalizing the doctor's statement.

Aventurine gazed at the ceiling, delicately illuminated by the moonlight reflecting in his bedroom. The kittens found themselves sleeping, huddled on top of each other by the sofa situated in the living room. Their purrings drifted through the air, piercing past the closed door of the blond's room, providing a soothing lullaby against the abrupt tempest of restless thoughts. Originally, he had opted to allow the critters inside the alcove tonight; yet, for some undisclosed purpose, his brain was still rehashing today's experiences. Likewise, and at the end, he had no desire to concern the kitties.

He and the doctor were unable to obtain any meaningful insight about the ‘religious organization’- as Ratio had labeled them- through undercover infiltration. Thus, there wasn't anything to emphasize, nothing to probe for apart from the psalms. Once again, they found themselves at the initial position on the board, with no leads or a discernible path to pursue.

Even so, there was something bothering him, a sentiment which kept him wide awake despite spinning several times in his bed, despite counting trotters in his mind and watching the digital clock; pointing out that, if he remained like this, the cats would approach and meow for their breakfasts before he could manage to get a few moments of slumber.

The Cristatus was incapable of reposing; a foreboding had forcefully seized him, tightening his frame and urging him to take action, but... Unlike on other opportunities in which he chose to operate according to his intuition, on this occasion, he wasn't even conscious of the reason behind it or what exactly he was expected to do. Within his inner being, he suffered from the memories of an old life, buried in oblivion, slowly creeping, joined by the chants heard in the small house beneath the afternoon's sunlight and vocalized by the people present there.

Aventurine settled back on the mattress, pulling the cozy sheets aside, welcoming the pleasant breeze streaming through the half-open window. Strange... The gambler had stood by the erudite's side at the gathering the whole moment; however, the man's voice did not accompany the recollections replaying inside his skull. It was not that Ratio had refused to chant or intone the stilted words printed on the paper; no, the golden-haired man commemorated him doing so. Rather, his vocals were simply absent, disengaged from those melancholic emotions sweeping over him like waves.

Shutting his eyes, the taller man's form was reflected in his memory. Aventurine assumed that, after a while working with the opposite, he had grown habituated to only glimpse his eyes, but today, the day that had been distinct- thanks to his own petition, furthermore- he discerned it as something improper, akin to a reality that was not his business to ogle. The blond blurted out a hushed chuckle, sensing how disproportionate the circumstance was. He had previously beheld the man not wearing a face mask, hadn't he? When they first met at the casino. Still...

“It feels different.” He murmured to himself, prior to sighing and tucking the fluffy blankets over himself once again.

Foreign. That's how it felt.

Turning his tired body in bed anew, he tightly clutched the pillow lying in a corner, striving to seek serenity in it.

Comprehending THEM proved to be an impossibility for a mortal being without a prior audience or some foreign connection, aside from the ancient and distorted tales transmitted by many generations through word of mouth. Such abstract concepts overshadowed the intricacies of human nature itself, interweaving webs of turmoil, anguish, and pessimism.

To deny THEIR existence was simply illogical.

To attempt to understand THEM would represent the ultimate absence of common sense.

The totality of the universe bowed to THEM, and their guidelines determined the absolute reality. Not all were benevolent, equally as not were all hostile. THEY had asserted THEIR presence in humanity and had eclipsed the remaining gods and faiths that sought to flounder above the swirling tides of memories.

Rooted in pure concepts, carving out paths never before pursued, so were the Aeons.

The basic and common assumption was that, as far as THEY were involved, the most sensible approach was to keep one's distance and cherish the acknowledgment bestowed upon the remainder creatures across the Cosmos. Nonetheless, this belief has been rejected on numerous occasions by individuals unwilling to embrace this simplistic and unsatisfactory assertion.

On her part, Madame Herta stated in one of her earliest published scientific articles, the one which would concretely spark the concept and subsequent development of the Simulated Universe (a miracle and simultaneously a threat to the concealed secrecy of such beatific entities) that “Exploring the nature of an Aeon is definitely achievable.” She specifically asserted that THEY were “Cosmogonic Beings that embody and actively exert the rulership of the paths.” And she even succeeded in rattling the universe with the announcement that she was working on a system that could comprehend THEM.

Ratio, equally, had elected to inquire further with one of his Ph.D. theses. "Aeons are not deities; they are structural, patterned, self-consistent forces. To categorize them as gods is a structural idolatry." An ostensibly widespread mistake in the world in which they currently reside. People opted to assume that being under THEIR shadow would signify protection, and from this, the fear of opposition and liberation from the superstitions drawn by misinformation was born.

Religions, depictions, altars, and even cults represented prevalent sights in today's diverse social contexts, not only in Pier Point but throughout the universe. This is often considered a compelling conversational subject in building interpersonal relationships; plainly, contrary paths do not coexist properly together. Veritas, for instance, still evoked the ornate altar that once took place in his childhood household; the one his parents meticulously cleaned and tended to every day.

Beyond possessing candles or figures, a tiny set of rock plaques with logical symbols embellished the back section in a formation resembling a “U.” ¬ Negation, ∀ universal quantification, ∃ existential quantification, and ⊢ syntactic implication, his mother had explained to him when a young Veritas had approached to pry.

Furthermore, a few strange flowers artificially cultivated by his father, with similar colors to the sunset, rested in a vase, isolated in a corner of the table. The nearest thing resembling an energized crystal was a prism in the center of the display, which reflected a colored line as the light struck it at the precise angle. Underneath the table with the white tablecloth, there was an urn in which his parents occasionally tossed crumpled papers or those with a large quantity of scratches.

Analyzing the alleged place of worship, Ratio had to credit his parents for setting up objects moderately associated with the Erudition. Even so, the prospect of an altar dedicated to Nous was still... Meaningless.

“Follower of Erudition...” It was a label he had abandoned long ago. Now, from his own standpoint, knowledge is a right to be transmitted and respectively acquired and developed. Nous, moreover, by being the Aeon of the respective path, due to the divinity and integrity of THEIR reasoning being the personification of this very same, will always be incapable of adopting a more “humanitarian” approach, something the doctor had started to berate in the Genius Society for the lack of logic or meaning from the privileged group.

“But even a life marked by failure is a life worth living- it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.”

In the end, Ratio had settled on inverting the question itself. Never would humans ever encompass the rationale of the Aeons, just as the Aeons would never be capable of flawlessly assimilating human intricacy. Nous, therefore, was no exception to this rule either.

A couple of days later, Aventurine was awake. It was around 7:00 am, though the little creatures had adopted the practice of demanding food from the blond at that hour, which resulted in this moment; the gambler carrying three plates with desserts of the highest quality and the most exquisite flavor he could obtain at Pier Point.

At the beginning, it had been odd, the doctor commented about how minines ate all kinds of sweets and treats, explaining that this was part of their exotic nature and necessary for their routine. The golden-haired man recalled reading the text messages two or three times, not entirely convinced by such a conspicuous dietary recommendation.

Fortunately, the casino owner eventually opted for certain desserts sold at the bakery located on his way back to the apartment, which was available 24 hours a day. Thus, there was no issue of any kind. Sine, Cosmo, and Tangy gladly accepted the food without a fuss, blissfully eating from their bowls.

At least that was, until one morning, after being awakened by the kitties, the Cristatus settled down in front of the television, savoring the cheesecake he had purchased at his favorite pastry shop following a good deal made at the casino. The site was always packed with crowds of people seeking to get their hands on what many regarded as 'the best desserts in the city.' Thanks to the golden-haired man's good fortune and luck, on this occasion, he didn't have to wait in line. As he ate, Tangy- the one with the peach slices on its body- shyly strolled towards him, its huge eyes sparkling and the expression on its feline features displaying sorrow.

“Didn't you guys just eat?” The man questioned, pulling the sweet away from the creature wailing disconsolately in his lap. After several minutes, Aventurine sighed, offering a little to the cat, unable to withstand his mournful meows reverberating throughout the place, as if it hadn't just finished munching a full slice of chocolate mousse. As the small lad tasted it, its eyes lit up, and shortly, its siblings followed suit, devouring the delectable treat.

Now he considered that event the worst decision he'd ever made in his entire life.

On the afternoon of that exact same day, the man served the cats their favorite dish, the brownie and chocolate ice cream they had sampled the first time the casino owner offered them food. This time, the critters didn't even sniff it, immediately making a fuss and meowing at the top of their lungs, refusing to consume a lunch of such deplorable quality.

From that point on, he accidentally conditioned the taste buds of the adorable felines, being obliged to feed them with desserts from that particularly popular and expensive bakery since they refused any other kind of candies or sweets. In addition, due to how coveted and sought after the site was, he was required to pre-order the entire month's supply of pastries and thereby pay a substantial amount of money.

Spoiled. The blond had certainly pampered them so badly that they'd turned out to be so impolite.

Balancing the bowls with brownies and cakes in one hand, while turning on the holographic screen and checking his cell phone with the other, and at the same time carefully shoving aside with one of his feet the kittens that stepped in his path to avoid tripping, the gambler headed to the living room. However, as he arrived and saw the device's monitor, displaying by default the news channel, he stopped dead in his tracks.

[7:11 AM]
“Doctor”
“Are you available at the moment?”
“If so, could you please take a look at the holographic screen?”
“It’s on the news channel – it’s important”
[Attachment has been sent: “Image”]

The scholar was currently preparing his breakfast. He had just come out of the bathroom, after rearranging the collection of rubber duckies adorning the bathroom, the faint steam from the tub, and the essence of the jasmine bath bomb permeated the atmosphere. The bathrobe rested snugly on his frame as he leisurely munched on a protein bar, retrieving the necessary ingredients for his breakfast and placing them on the counter. Upon hearing the notification chime coming from his phone, the man grabbed it and unlocked it, taking notice that the blond had texted him.

Ratio muttered under his breath. At the very least, the felines were encouraging him to get up at a more suitable time of day and avoid sending meaningless messages in the early hours of the morning. Despite this, as he scanned the chat, the doctor frowned. The mood was serious and dry, uncharacteristic compared to the casino owner's habitual conversations. There were no Wubbaboo stickers or cute pictures of the kitties.

The professor walked with a determined pace to the projector, holding the control in his grasp and turning on the screen. Following a few seconds of loading, he set up the channel. As he did, a female reporter with long, orange hair, somewhat disheveled by the breeze, came into view, clutching a tiny microphone as she stared at the monitor, speaking with a certain tone of authority, befitting journalists.

"Yes. We have received new reports, dear viewers, concerning the situation. As you can see behind me-" The camera focused on the area behind the woman, revealing an eerily familiar house in the background being consumed by flames, joined by a small group of firefighters dousing the blaze. The erudite tightened his hold on the telephone in his palm, a tightening sensation in his chest as he instinctively recognized the location- the insignificant chapel he had been investigating with Aventurine just a few days ago.

The female voice continued to narrate. "The fire in the zone is now under control. According to local residents, at about 5:00 a.m., a large explosion was heard, accompanied shortly by smoke. At least five persons who resided there are reported missing." From the pixelated monitor, the man identified the scorched remains of the paper birds that hung from the wooden ceiling and some sheets of paper amongst the ashes, most likely containing the chanted proverbs.

"Several sources state that the property was utilized as a chapel for religious gatherings dedicated to worshiping Ena, the Aeon of Order. The Interastral Peace Corporation declared they are now conducting an investigation to ascertain the reasons for the explosion, the perpetrators behind this tragic event, and whether this could be an organized attack against this group of people..."

Ratio instantly switched off the hologram. A tense, charged silence encroached the room pervasively like a parasite as the doctor brushed a hand over his damp, now unkempt hair. His brain rewound the sight exhibited on the monitor, and his body started to be consumed with a sense of uneasiness stemming from the burning inquiry.....

What had happened?