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rel124c41 · 9 months ago

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DESTROYING ANGELS. jade leech

It screams in your head. A siren. An eagle. A sick, diseased, morbid raven yelling and yelling: housewarden, housewarden, housewarden, it caws at you. With Vil Schoenheit's third year coming to an end, you hold the ambition to become housewarden, if even only for a measly year.

But when struck with the visage of Vil's overblot, you doubt your efforts and turn to a deal with a truly odious individual.

tags: rival relationship, blood and injury, mental breakdown, developing relationship, poisoning, pomefiore (twst), gentle kissing, happy valentine’s day!!

word count: 24,883

For what was an immeasurable time, you again scrubbed the fifteen second clip back to the beginning. At this point, Si and Am — your dormmates — have already left the library to attend class. You told them you would catch up, but reflexively your thumb drags the red dot to the left. You said you would catch up perhaps five minutes ago.

As the clip starts, you watch it like it has pierced both your eyes with hooks and is cranking you back into the boat. You have to watch it again and again, pause at mark 00:05, mark 00:13, mark 00:10. And it is not even enjoyable.

You are transfixed like someone watches a person burning in the backyard get-together, morbidly interested yet disconnectedly anguished.

The quality is mediocre at best. The recorder, one of the dwarf children or a random attendant, had a faulty grip on his phone. Perhaps, you should give them some credit. Running for your life would make a video appear blurry as found footage films, but … you scrub back to the beginning, Sevens couldn’t they have just stood still for a fucking second!

The grip around your phone tightens immensely and your case crackles. At this point, the screams and pleads on the loop are like trickling sand. You hold your thumb by the pause button, waiting and waiting until there!

Instantly, your glumness vanishes. Your eyes break the limits of human anatomy and widen even further to soak in all of the image. You screenshot it six times.

On your phone is the countenance of Vil Schoenheit in his overblot form. Black lips open wide into a yelling shout. The lace and insignia of blot indented onto crystal white skin. Golden peacock feathers cutting into the sky and forming Mary’s halo around his head. And most importantly, the symbol of every overblot, wisps of violet curling and pulsing off the campfire that is Vil’s fiery eye. The only recorded video of your housewarden’s overblot saved onto your phone after pulling so many strings and calling up so many connections.

And you should be happy; you have that image; you could do whatever you please with it and ruin Vil Schoenheit. But, gathering up your paperwork, all you feel is envious.

Storming out the library, you mourn that if you overblot, it will never be as magnificent as the one your housewarden has achieved.

You are not as skilled in cloak and dagger activities as your vice-housewarden is. Those observation skills of yours left something to be desired. Plus, your lack of companionship did not stem from a need for secrecy (like many other students) but rather a practical desire to complete your goal. Being isolated should have left you with plenty of time to practice espionage-esque skills. You guess you have wrongly judged that you were at least subtle in your staring, because as you go to tap Jade Leech on his shoulder, both of you walking down the hallways, he says without even turning his back, “twenty-seven.”

You quickly withdraw your finger from the space inches near his shoulder as if an animal you were petting had opened its maw. You shrink back as Jade Leech stops in the middle of flowing school traffic and turns around. The impression he cuts through the current is odious. “I’m sorry?”

“You have stared at me this week on twenty-seven different occasions. I was wondering if you were going to reach thirty before you said anything to me.”

His smile is odious too. Ah, how terrifying he is to look at. You deflate at his words then attempt to puff right back up again. All that false confidence you had been building up this whole week was meant for this, “I was hoping that I could trouble you for setting up a meeting with housewarden Ashengrotto. At his earliest convenience?”

“I see,” Jade Leech says, reaching a gloved hand up to his chin. “But would it not be more optimizing if you were to come directly to Azul with this. Of course, I can pass on the word to him.”

Okay, this is it. As a last ditch intimidation method, your instincts make you stand up straighter. You spent all week preparing for this. Be honest; Jade Leech will never reveal his hand but as the applicant, you will need to reveal yours. And you know this conversation will not reach housewarden Ashengrotto if it does not manage to interest his vice-housewarden.

“Because the deal I want doesn’t involve Azul; it's a deal between both me and you.”

You find yourself in the VIP room before the day is out.

You are almost dizzy with the speed that things were commencing. Stress had been intimately stitched into your uniform as you spent the last week. A week spent staring at Jade Leech – apparently twenty-seven times – and trying to deduct how to talk to him. The same day you approach is the same day you get into Ashengrotto’s office. Yes, you certainly feel whiplashed by the turn of events.

The lilac straw in your mouth has definitely known kinder customers. Halfway done with the sunset-hued drink Floyd Leech presented you with, you occupy yourself with gnawing on the straw. You need a way to relax and were appreciative of the drink. It is a good drink, a mixture of pineapple and orange juice with grenadine. Nothing else, though you had tasted around for a hint of any poison, and you were good at –

“(Name),” Azul says and you quickly set down your drink. “I was told this was an imperative matter, so I am wholly interested in how Octavinelle can provide for you. After all, I don’t believe you have ever graced Mostro Lounge with your presence before.”

You narrow your eyes slightly at the orange foam in your glass. Why did he make it sound like you kept him waiting? When you were the one waiting for twenty minutes at least as he did paperwork, trying to avoid eye contact with the Leech twins seated across from you. Forget it, do not be intimidated. Looking up, you puff your throat and start.

“Housewarden Ashengrotto, I want to make a contract with you. I–”

“Well, yes, most individuals at Night Raven College do. However, Jade informed me this was a matter that did not involve myself.” Azul is still busying himself with shuffling papers as if you are an impediment.

“The contract,” you swallow hard. “The contract would not involve me and you. I require nothing from you except a contract that would ensure that both me and the other signer will provide the agreed upon terms. It would involve Jade Leech and myself.”

You receive no response from Azul. He is scribbling on a paper with his fishbone pen. You send a quick glance across the table to the twins – bad idea, you quickly turn back to Azul who is peering at you bored over his glasses. Your words are not entertaining enough. “I want to know if this type of contract is possible with your signature spell before I reveal my hand.”

“Dear, anything is possible with the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence. But, you are the applicant here and I am no mind reader. So, please, indulge my ears and tell me your worries, your struggles, and your troubles.” He waves one hand in a gesturing stroke then returns to writing.

“In exchange for what I’m asking, I’ll offer you my life and freedom, my possessions, and all my magic.”

The VIP room’s atmosphere shifts at your words. The bubble of indifference is pricked with a needle. Fishbone pen clattering, Azul snaps his head up to you so fast that his glasses tilt on his face. Cool cerulean eyes brim up with a destructive interest. In the corner of your vision, Floyd’s restful shoes suddenly slip off the glass table and are replaced by his slamming hands. Underneath the glass, three koi fish swam agitated at the weight. The courteous smile has slipped off Jade’s features and he is staring at you. Are his eyes glowing? No matter, his already perfect posture has already begun to straighten more.

You pick up the glass that Floyd had rattled and sip the drink. The knowledge that you had definitely secured the usage of Azul’s signature spell sends a warmth through you that you need to cool with an orange, iced beverage.

“HAHAHAHA,” Floyd shrieks excitedly. “Pufferfishy is so exciting! Aren’t they, Jade!” Jade mumbles his agreement that this is quite unexpected as his twin continues laughing, thoroughly amused.

When you reach the bottom of your foamy drink, Azul is done fixing his glasses. “Well, that is certainly unexpected collateral. Are you perhaps desperate, (Name)? Such heavy words.” But he is already summoning a contract in his right hand. Golden luster drips off and shadows him a canary yellow gleam. He starts to scribble on that instead.

“I am not desperate,” you state. It is a true statement. Despite what your collateral is, not an ounce of this is desperation, despite everything an outsider might believe.

“An-And what would you require from Jade,” Azul asks, his hand rapid with his writing. His voice makes you inclined to believe Azul would be willing to sell Jade Leech for anything you had to ask for. Good, you think, you need to make them more willing to your whims than vice versa. You start to describe what you want from this contract.

“I need someone, not from Pomefiore, who still possesses knowledge of poison. My options were five students from Octavinelle and Scarabia who excelled in potionology, Jade Leech was one of them. If I picked any of the other four, they could have easily betrayed me or sold my research. Jade Leech has both a knowledge of fungi poisons and oceanic poisons with a minimal understanding on land and magic poisons too. Divus Crewel even sings his praise.

“To become Pomefiore’s housewarden, I need to make the most potent poison. I need to win this upcoming summer exam above all else. Working with someone from Pomefiore could compromise me. I am leagues ahead of my peers but,” but I even fall into self doubt “but even I know when I am running into a deadend, of sorts. I need another pair of eyes to help me find that exit.

“If Jade Leech is willing to help me both make and test a variety of poison, then I will sign this contract. If I fail to become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then I forfeit my entire life to anyone in this room. My magic and all my servitude is one of yours.”

There is it, terms laid out plainly. You silently watch the way the trio reacts to this information. Really, you try to focus your attention on Jade without losing eye contact with Azul. His interest is definitely piqued. If something catches the eel-mer’s scrutiny, he is sure to go into it wholeheartedly, yes? You wish you could read people better, it has never been your speciality.

“Such a streep price. Your entire life?” A dangerous firecracker glint passes over Azul’s eyewear. “Perhaps, I can have you working for Mostro Lounge indefinitely. After all, the Octavinelle dorm is where you originally belo-”

“Don’t. Don’t bring that up.”

He is not sorry but still says, “Of course, my apologies. So, the assistance of my vice-housewarden is what you desire, dear student. Well, I cannot help but ask Jade what he thinks of this arrangement.”

“Wait. I want to add a clause to this contract.” Surprise molds Azul’s lips in a pout, but he still tells you to continue. “If I feel – for any reason – that Jade is becoming an obstacle to me becoming Pomefoire’s housewarden, I can invoke a rescission of the contract. And the other party will need to accept that.”

Azul’s face starts to mold like prodded clay at your verbal addendum. His eagerness is ruefully gone from his motions. Octavinelle’s housewarden gains control of himself and starts to realize he will need to actually negotiate. You are not as easy to blindside as others. He spits out two sentences as if they are tar in his mouth. “A clause that would terminate the contract, hm? And all under your jurisdiction.”

“Well, that simply won’t do,” Jade says and you finally get to look at him. You meant what you said earlier, he is terrifying to look at. There is always something wolfish in his features, perhaps his eyes or teeth, but he always looks eager to tear everything apart if given the order. A thudding and pounding box with a thousand belts and locks twined around it. That is the only image you can compare his guise to.

“What if I am benevolently doing all I can to help you complete your poison? Providing my knowledge on both fungi and oceanic poisons. Yet,” his eyes shimmer here “your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much. Or what if you come to regret this contact and purposefully try to fail? You would be wasting my time.”

You puff and challenge back, “And what if you are not being so benevolent, Leech? What if you are trying to sabotage me at every turn so I do not become a housewarden? I need to plan for every angle and make sure I am not vulnerable.”

“So little trust. Do you really think me so villainous, little Pufferfish?”

“The very thought of me purposely sabotaging myself is ludicrous. The thought of you pulling subtle strings is not so far-fetched. I have offered too gracious a price on my end.”

“Yet, all the same, here you are offering it. Are you sure you do not wish to retract what you said about being desperate?”

“A desperate person would never add a clause.”

“Perhaps, this is true but –”

“You two, enough of this banter,” Azul cuts in.

Huh? You were not bantering. You were discussing contract terms. The back of your neck grows hot as Jade smirks, just a few feet from you, separated by koi fish and table legs. Neither of you noticed that you were leaning into each other, biting, until Azul stopped the argument. Still, “my apologies, housewarden Ashengrotto,” you should always remain on a housewarden’s good side as a student at Night Raven College – that was one of your philosophies.

“Jade is right. You could dip out of this contact all under the guise that Jade is halting your progress when it is really you have reached the limits of your ability. Not that I doubt your ability, but human nature requires failure.”

You weigh all of this. Getting this clause added onto the contract was never going to be easy, this you anticipated. The allurement of forfeiting your life was what you had originally hoped would entice them. Maybe you spoke in the wrong order, said too little or said too much. Still, you were here and needed to find a way to cement this clause’s spot on that golden contract.

You glance at your empty glass … perhaps you should, no perish the thought. Intimidation is sure to never work in the Octavinelle dorm and you will surely be thrown out.

“Trust. You said I had little of it. That is true; I have little trust for anyone truly, Leech.” You stare down at the swimming koi fish. Turning to Azul, “If I tell Jade the reason that he is an obstacle to me, and he agrees, then I would like our contract terminated. Ultimately, Jade Leech would be in charge if I choose to end our arrangement.”

A little bit of your free-will; you calculate that you can afford to lose a little bit of that. As far as you were concerned, you could trust Azul Ashengrotto and Jade Leech as far as you could throw them. As soon as you were out of their sight, they would be conspiring to find a way to ensure your failure. However, with a more trained mind when it comes to poison, you should be able to safely squeeze what you need from that slippery eel.

“My, such an angry expression. Do you really trust us so little?” Slippery eel, slippery eel, slippery eel.

Azul smiles as he waves his magic pen over the contract, words shifting to his whim. “Do try to not look so constipated, dear. It’s a bad look. Perhaps, Octavinelle can teach you to conceal your emotions if you need assistance there too.”

With a bit of heat on your neck, you do your best to school your expressions. Your features just leap back to revealing your mind, shock overtaking at Azul’s next words. “Oh, and I will be adding my own clause that Jade will have to assist you benevolently or the contract will find itself void.”

One last time, the entire VIP room’s atmosphere shifts. Shock has already started to color the two eel-mers’ expressions. Floyd leans over his brother's shoulder and lets out an annoyed, “huuuh?” Jade, trying to keep his polite façade, has placed a hand upon his heart. His mouth is twitching and you envision one of those belts or locks around his convulsing box exploding off. “Azul –” Jade starts but Floyd ends, “Azul, that’s totally unfair.”

Honestly, it is the most fair part of the contract, but you keep your mouth shut, worried that you could get the clause removed with the wrong words. Then comes the devastating part. Azul, who has seemingly finished the contract, stands up from his desk.

“Come now, after November, we all promised to be more accommodating in our contracts. We have to do our duty to uphold the virtues of the Sea Witch such as (Name) here will uphold the unrelenting efforts of the Beautiful Queen.

“However, benevolence is subjective person to person. Of course, the clause will be dependent on what Jade considers benevolent. His definition of it might be different from mine, his brother, or your own. But it will still be there,” here, he places the contract in your hand, paper feeling like a dumbbell “a safety net for you to use in your judgment, if needed.

“You’ve always been interesting. Thus, we all do expect great things from you. One way or another.”

If you were not in competition for the spot of Pomefiore's housewarden, your strong affection for chemicals, venomous things, and poison would have been concerning — to say the least.

At least that was what Jade deducts, watching you whip around the private lab in Pomefiore’s dorm. He had observed you in Crewel’s class and botanical gardens. This you is on another level of enthusiasm. Plucking all the supplies you need from storage, you are ablaze with a passion that almost seems to swallow up your entire being.

Passion can intimidate others. Jade knew for himself as his relationship with mushrooms did cause a few shudders, and Azul and Floyd were sadly unenthusiastic to share in it. You know all the cracks in the floor, all the loose cabinet shelves, and all the chipped flasks to avoid that an inexperienced student might pick up and use. Observing this, Jade thinks your fiery strides must be equal to his when he is able to embark on his hikes. Fluorescent energy beating hard under skin. How truly entertaining.

Supplies cradled to your chest, you scramble over the table and start to place your third trip of supplies down one by one. Jade sits patiently. Too engrossed in your element, you had avoided conversing besides telling him joyful, when you two entered, that one rarely gets to see Pomefiore’s lab without being enrolled in the dorm. Since then, unfortunately your attention has been away from him.

This contract better not be going to waste.

Bunsen burner, two volumetric flasks, heavy duty gloves. Once done setting them down, you start gliding away, stars in your eyes, to go pick up more things. Jade sends a spectacle look to the supplies. Will you cover every inch of the table with tools?

As you lean down into a cabinet, Jade calls out, “So, enlighten me on what the requirements our poison must meet. There must be rules that I am unaware of.”

You puff up. Bewildered eyes met his gentlemanly gaze. He resists the chuckle in his throat; did you perhaps forget that he was here, waiting for you? Shaking off your confusion, you straighten your posture and start speaking like a professor giving their favorite lecture.

“To become the housewarden of Pomefiore, one must be able to create the most potent poison among their peers. It is graded upon presentation, name, and the effectiveness of the poison. The poison can be presented in a variety of forms: food, liquid, a smear-like jam, a breathable substance, a cosmetic item, etcetera.”

You recite this as if you are reciting your full name for an interview, as if it is something you have known since birth. The passion in your voice is firm. “But to me, all of that is meaningless.”

Jade’s eyebrow twitches up at this. “Meaningless? Then why sign a contract?”

“No, not meaningless. It is all,” you snap your fingers, searching for a word. “It is unimportant because I will be creating a poison that can stop an elephant or dragon’s heart in a second. Presentation, name, who needs it. We should focus on the effectiveness, nothing else.”

Finally locating what you needed from the cabinet, you stand up with it huddled to your chest. A large jar with a sloshing black liquid inside. You unclip your magestone from your breast pocket.

Accelerating towards Jade is another lab table that collides with one he is already seated at. He blinks once in shock and then folds all his other thoughts into the crisper of his cold mind. Disappointment iced over him. Turning, Jade is met with a grin quite like his own when scheming.

Oh!

Gratitude fills his mind, dethawing his previous frost.

He knew that canceling the meetings from yesterday to get you into the VIP room would be worth it. Even if Azul did try to stab back at Jade by making him promise that he would act benevolent, you would be worth it.

Besides, isn’t he always on his best behavior?

Matching your expression, Jade says, “A poison that can kill a dragon?”

Jade had yet to attend one of these exams for becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. They were hosted in the auditorium and a professor used simulacrum spells to conjure up creatures at the student’s request. Truthfully, Jade had been uninterested because you were not attending.

Your first year you made it stone clear what your goal was and pivoted away from distractions (friends). Despite your goal, you did not attend last year’s summer exam. You know that you did not attend because you were aware no one was going to beat your current housewarden. Jade thinks it was because you had given up. But, right now, he is glad you have not grown so boring after two years of observing.

“The record for poisoning a fabricated dragon is two weeks. That was set by Professor Crewel his first year, yes? How much do you plan to cut that record by? Three days or two days?”

“I hope the poison will claim its life by the fifty-nine minute mark.”

Huh? “Surely, you are exaggerating.”

You give no verbal answer, wearing such a wicked grin. You wave your magestone in a diagonal cut. On the lab table that had joined yours, multiple bottles string up like flowers or mushrooms. Seven … no, nine bottles, all labeled with a skull with a tiny halo over its head.

“No. I am a Pomefiore student. I will always strive to be the best of the best.”

Sevens, you are electrifying. Your energy billows up like a balloon, pushing at the latex and straining to pop. All that static and shocking was enticing to watch. Up close though? It seems to Jade that he will get burned if he does not navigate you carefully and that lovely risk is everything to him.

“Now then,” you clap and interrupt Jade’s train of thought, taking your seat beside him. “I am versed in flowers and chemicals. Mushrooms and toxicities in the sea, I know the basics … That’s where you come and benevolently assist me.”

Despite your grimace at asking for assistance, you are fixated on the eel-mer, waiting to eagerly absorb information. Jade, whose atypical interests were rarely seen as interesting, grows a bit warm at the intense look you are directing towards him.

“Well, I suppose I should give you what you want. As per contractual agreement.” Jade unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket.

With a flourish of his own magestone, three terrariums neatly stack in the empty space in front of you two. “Pick one.”

You study them all individually and then compare them too. At bottom, brown mushrooms with ringlets of soft white poking through like stretch-marks or slicing scars. A little intriguing but not as much as the middle. Bright orange mushrooms, thin like chips or leaves, are piled onto each other and rest on wet pieces of tree bark. Those are a beauty but ultimately you go with ones in the top terrarium.

Their look is wholly boring and uninteresting. Dull olive green caps and shaped like the typical mushroom is, they intrigue you. There is something so energizing about being near poisons. However, there is something life-changing about sinking your teeth into a cocoon of masquerading innocence, only for the bitter taste of something dangerous to pierce your tongue.

You turn to Jade, Monsieur Mastermind as your vice-housewarden calls him, and point to the top terrarium. “What are these ones?”

“These ones actually cause the majority of poisonings in Twisted Wonderland.” With a wave, the other two terrariums disappear. Jade leans in to lift off the lid, explaining, “They’re called amanitas due to the shape. But the translated names are death cap, death angel, or destroying angels.” He pulls one out, not the smallest of the bunch but the largest either.

“Destroying angels are naturally deceitful. They appear like the common mushroom, the same color and shape. The indicator is the vulva. Other than that, they hide in plain sight and kill those not careful enough to understand them. There is such beauty in that … a dull appearance hiding such violent intentions.”

You cannot help but agree vehemently with him, nodding along. All of his entire explanation felt like it related more to simple mushrooms. It was like a principle of attraction in life.

You look at the remaining ones in the terrarium and ask, “the side effects?”

“First, stomach cramps, loose bowels, and vomiting. Next, it might damage the liver and kidney to irreversible measures. Lastly, cell death or damage of the central nervous system.”

“Amatoxin poisoning. That can kill a person in only two days.”

“Just twenty-one milligrams of amatoxin in the body is fatal. That is perhaps,” Jade suddenly leans into his terrarium and grabs the second smallest, “the amount found in a small one like this. Three bites and you’re facing Death.”

You are exhilarated at the information, staring at the two destroying angels pinched in Jade’s gloved hands. Do they seep through the pie crust of skin, you wonder excitedly. “Are these the deadliest ones in your collection?”

“If I’m comparing a single species to another single species, then yes. Destroying angels alone are more poisonous than any others I know.”

“Good. We start with this one.” You cast a look over to the porcelain bottles. All nine of your prototypes for what you wanted to use in the summer exam sitting neatly there. “There is a variety to test and so little time. And if amatoxin will enhance,” you start to ramble off, mumbles that Jade’s hearing cannot pick up. Suddenly, you are grabbing from the stack of papers and scribbling. Once more, you have completely forgotten Jade is here with you. Though it is nice to watch the crackles of fire alit from you, the Leech brother would rather have your attention.

He leans in, nose almost brushing your shoulder. Still enraptured with your work, it seems.

Jade is a little unsure if this will work. Nicknames are his twin’s territory but he did know that you get disgruntled when hearing the nickname. Probably only because it came from an Octavinelle student, people you did not want to grow close to. But no matter because Jade is growing awfully close to you. Once that distance is closed, he says far too loudly, “Pufferfish.”

You leap and drop your pencil. Huffing and puffing, you turn in your seat. An accusatory glare and scowl battles with Jade’s smile.

“You seem to have forgotten our contract involves collaboration, Pufferfish. You did read it thoroughly, yes?”

You send a glance down to your paper, bewildered by the sight of it. And surprisingly your mouth opens and says …

“Sorry. Don’t usually collaborate.” You magic his chair to slide closer to you. “Ok, so here’s what I’m thinking …”

The past two weeks had been stressful yet eye-opening too. You had been learning a lot more about poisonous mushrooms and toxins in the Coral Sea that you would not typically interact with. However, while making progress, a sapling of doubt was growing inside you. All watered and photosynthesized by one slippery eel. The allusions about betrayal, his sly, ensconcing grins, and every action seemed to have a double meaning or price to pay for later: all of Jade Leech’s personality was driving you nuts!

The worst was when he would say something bone-chilling and dismiss it: “But that is an event we would not want to happen, yes?” or “But I would never say that, surely not I.” or “I simply jest. This would not be in my benevolent interests.” Every sentence seemed to tear you apart mentally.

Apparently, he was doing this because of your defensive action. Apparently, you puffed when he said things like that. You moved as if you were blowing up with invisible spikes, defending yourself and your barracks with a prickly attitude. He had also taken to calling you that nickname that Floyd had for you. You asked him about it a week ago.

“Aren’t fish related nicknames your twin’s thing?”

“Yes, but it annoys you so I would like to join in.”

You gave him a disgruntled hum and continued working.

A few mind-games were not going to discourage you after signing such an important contract, Jade had proven to be useful in expanding your knowledge. You would weather his little tricks and sinister smiles – no matter how much they made your skin crawl with suspicion.

You almost want to test his resolve, test if you can out disturb him. He had words and you had actions. Besides, you cannot ask either Si or Am this question. You were planning to pick those twins to work as your vice-housewarden. If they knew how attracted you were to the image of an overblot, a taboo subject, you might not have a vice-housewarden next year. So, as you two are fiddling with the measurements and burning liquids and powders, you ask Jade:

“When Ashengrotto overblotted, what were your and Floyd’s thoughts?”

It is one of those out of the blues questions. Still, you are still surprised by how Jade manages to keep his composure, hand stilling for no longer than three seconds. A slippery centipede of white teeth crawls on his face, amused, but he keeps his focus on the powder he is pouring.

“When Azul overblotted,” he mused. “Well, I thought what a foolish thing to do. Truly, he should have known better to lose control like that. Floyd was very disappointed in his lack of composure. We expected better of our housewarden.

“Why ask?”

Of course you and Jade would look at overblots and feel different. You two were on two separate planets, labeled Octavinelle and Pomefiore, thus you would never see eye to eye. You hid a scowl behind your hand, stirring your mixture.

“In Pomefiore, you’re expected to have a taste for beautiful art – to create art, be it craft or performance – not that you yourself are beautiful. When Schoenheit overblotted, there was something hypotonic about it. Eldritch beauty. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.”

“Were you there when it happened?”

“No. I managed to pick up a video recording of it after numerous favors were given out. It’s so grainy but even still, you can tell he was perfect at that moment. You felt no awe for Ashengrotto?”

“Mermaid forms are sometimes hypotonic to humans and the like. But Azul’s overblot was simply himself but unraveled and foible. It was just not all that stunning to me.”

“They have this saying about art and beauty,” you cannot help yourself from speaking. “Art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.”

“Hm, I can see the appeal. Humans always have such odd little sayings,” Jade muses. And that is the end of that conversation.

Beauty is an important value of Pomefiore; there is no denying that. Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all? But beauty is a volatile word as it is so deeply subjective. And fighting prejudices itself is a big Pomefiore value! However … you twist your pencil in hand, forlornly studying Jade.

You are positive that he knows you are studying him. He simply waits patiently to see if you can entertain him more.

If you reveal this to him, the entirety of Night Raven College might know by the end of the week. Not that you keep it hidden for your own vanity. Though, Vil Schoenheit had strict requirements on what beauty is … If you are to reveal this and Schoenheit finds out, can he disqualify you on the basis that you are too disfigured to be housewarden?

Truly, you have no vanity but to jeopardize your goal. The hand wrapped around your wrist tightens until your bones start to ache. You absolutely cannot jeopardize yourself or risk being disqualified from attending the exam.

But, then again, your vice-housewarden found beauty in everything. If this spread to all of Night Raven College (if Jade revealed it because it would provide him entertainment), Hunt would at least be a voice in Schonheit’s ear, praising your dedication that ran skin deep. You did have some cushioning there. Ok, you were going to do it.

You shrug off the heavy black jacket and start unbuttoning your vest. Jade does not say a word, watching. You let these two articles of clothing drop to the nubs of your stool. You continue by unbuttoning your white collared shirt.

“If you are hoping to get something more physical from our relationship, you should disclose that information in our contract. No matter how embarrassing it might’ve been to discuss it in front of Azul.”

The sides of his lips pull up in a razor-sharp smile. You puff and continue stripping.

“Don’t flatter yourself. All of this is still in pursuit of me being housewarden. There is no need for you to even touch me”

“Oya, then may I employ the reason for you und–” You interrupt him by slamming your dominant arm down on the table. His eyes fall to your mummified arm. A coil of white bandages serpents from the third inch of your wrist to the end of your deltoid, a few inches off from your black tank top. A spark jumps to Jade’s eyes as if someone struck together two rocks. “Oh, what is this?”

“Have much gore can you handle? Be honest.”

That question seems to really add some intensity to his eyes because he moves them off your arm and stares at you. His still lips start twitching up again. “Now, why would an innocent thing like you ask someone like me that?”

“The last time anyone saw this, they threw up on my dorm’s floor. Stop being such a smart-ass, Leech.”

His eyes are like suns. “I have seen things in the Coral Sea that would make you throw up, Pufferfish.”

Good. You move your index and middle finger under where the top bandage is tucked. However, your nose starts to crinkle as you sit there contemplating. Risks are still uncalculated; you have yet to map out every angle at which this could benefit or ruin you. If Schonheit finds out … No, this is in pursuit of making the best poison, no one can fault you for ambition. You start to unfurl your bandages.

To be honest, a demented part of you is excited to see the reaction that notoriously spooky and eldritch Jade Leech will have. So as your hand circles and twists, you watch the sharp profile that watches your hand.

Masking raw emotions behind a tiny, sinister smile is a trait that Jade has mastered. People jump at loud noises, Jade does not even flinch. His body is alarmingly disconnected from the kingdom of his mind.

Enviously, you watch as his features thoroughly remain schooled to neutrality and reveal nothing of his thoughts. Inch by inch, more of your arm you reveal. His mismatched eyes are certainly analyzing, shifting, and evaluating but nothing is truly revealed in his face. The only flicker of discomfort you see is when he swallows hard. His throat bobs slightly when the bandages around your shoulder loosen up. But that could be a totally unrelated act of swallowing. Strangely, you admire his ability to keep an expression that can conceal a thousand more expressions.

Done unwrapping your arm, you begin to fold up the bandages in your hand. To be honest, you can admit that perhaps the lack of reaction is reasonable as your arm has surely looked worse before.

Multiple lacerations of varying degrees and depth climb up your arm. The orange-yellow fat of your upper arm is exposed in some areas like the backs of poisonous toads breaking through mud. A concave spot of burnt brachial muscle is oozing black-red again. Sometimes, your ring finger still twitches desperately from that wound; the nerves are similar to old chargers that need to be pinched and settled specifically to create charge.

Tooth white of your humerus bone plays peek-a-boo at you from the cave of maroon, peach, and black. You still have skin but it is a raw yellow tint from surface wounds or poison. However, there are barely three inches of real skin left clinging like desperate webs to your upper shoulder. Which might have earned you the motion of Jade’s throat rippling with a deep gulp.

No matter, it is healing up better than most days.

Cautious to not touch the steel table again (no matter how clean), you begin by trying to locate an island of skin to test. You are pulled from your exploration when a voice asks:

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Why? Worried about me?”

“Not particularly.”

“Ouch, that hurts my feelings, Leech.” You fake a frown until you finally can locate a patch of remaining skin. “Hand me our poison.” The vial is deposited between your non-dominant index and thumb.

Once the cap is off, you say. “My tenth birthday. Just some poison ivy on the path to my middle school. That set me in my ways. All because some teacher said to never touch leaves that look like those and I was curious as to the reason.”

“Floyd had a similar experience. Spotted trunkfish. They were so colorful that Floyd thought to ignore our parents' warning to never touch fish that looked like that. He grew quite sick after a lick.”

Well, that is certainly unexpected.

Not the story about Floyd. You could easily conjure up an image of him going to bite the leopard spotted skin of such a fish only to have a colorless toxin poison him. Yet, Jade actually revealing some information about himself — well, actually it is about his brother, so then information about their childhood – is strange for the tight-lipped twin. Perhaps he only told you so you can contemplate using trunkfish’s toxin at a later date.

Still. You cough a laugh into your elbow. Then, you rotate the arm for better access to unblemished skin.

“Adults avoid revealing necessary information like the plague. They never want to give the reason for why something shouldn’t be done.”

“Perhaps, they just want to see it done so they remain quiet.”

“Hm, perhaps. Everyone needs a bit of entertainment,” you mutter, administering altered fluorine. Is that perhaps the reason why Jade Leech is here; why he had gotten you into Azul’s office within an hour? Entertainment is a feasible reason. Silently, both of you watch the effects.

Sizzling skin, rashes, deep lacerations: all of this pain you were used to. Repetition of self experiment did eventually lead to sensory neurons quieting down and accepting the abuse. So as smoke starts to rise off your arm, Jade is surprised by the composure in your face.

Smoke rises in a tiny cloud before pretzel-ing itself into a little skull. The skull thuds once then twice in the air like a heartbeat. Breaking apart, it leaves as acid starts to tunnel down into your flesh. You remain still, watching with a clenched fist.

Acid digs and digs, past the numerous layers of skin and fat. You wrap a protective ward around the intricate, branching neuron system. Like a growing virus in a petri dish, you watch the acid start to jump from fat to fat from muscle to muscle, licking at all the surrounding areas.

Good to see that it spreads instead of tunneling. An essential aspect to chart about each poison.

Finally, it reaches the bone like you were hoping. Absorbed fluorine can bond with calcium cells. If the spells and chemicals added work, this administered fluorine should bond through touch alone.

Close and close it inches until — “Ah, I thought I would find you here, (Name).”

Jade, alert, turns even though he was not addressed. Ah, it is one of those twins that always tails after you like imprinted kittens. He cannot tell where it is Si or it is Am. Curious, Jade turns to look at you for the answer which twin he is dealing with before a usually concealed emotion passes over his face.

Surprise.

You grip your magestone like you are afraid that it will run away. Residues of a spell fall over in lilac sparkles. Yet, the most surprising part to Jade is that you are fully redressed, every article of clothes summoned back to their neat place. Even the snake of bandages you had removed are spiraled back on your arm, concealed under layers of the Night Raven College uniform.

“Hi Si,” you smile like nothing is unusual. “You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, Vil is making everyone in the dorm attend this etiquette class tonight. Some of us were sent to collect anyone who was out of the dorm. I lost rock-paper-scissors against Am.”

Etiquette class? A fucking etiquette class? When you become a housewarden, you would never call your dorm students to do such a frivolous activity like learning how to distinguish types of spoons. Schoenheit had everything you wanted and was wasting it. You, on the other hand, would push your dorm students in meaningful ways – by making them study poisons and work towards creating lethal injections.

“Ah I see. Just let me,” you shift up from your chair. With a startling speed, you vanish all of your supplies from the table. Almost as if you are trying to hide … before Jade can continue thinking on that thought, you say, “Next time, call me.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Si’s eyes flicker over to Jade. “Next time, ok? I’ll make sure to call next time.”

“Thank you.” You pocket your pen as Jade stands. Giving him a once over, you say, “Next time for us too? I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yes, see you then.” You nod gratefully and start to walk away with Si. Stupid etiquette class. Underneath your bandages, you are acutely aware of the working poison that you cannot visually study. It slithers and crawls over the maroon meat in your arm. There is an insectoid itch to just rip off the bandages just to see – fuck Schoenheit, you knew what a salad fork was! “Oh, and Pufferfish?”

“Yeah?” You turn.

You are startled by how close he is leaning to you. His mismatched eyes are burning intensely like stars and his smile is moonlight. He rests one bare (when did he take off his gloves?) hand to your neck, rubbing a thumb to the skin laying like a pie-crust sheet over your voicebox. “Thank you for your vulnerability.”

The itch stops as does your footfall. Raw prickling sensation is washed over and replaced by something much stronger. The pumping, panicking flood of your heart.

Sevens, were you going to regret that? Metaphorically, you just pulled down the collar of your dress shirt to a cannibal. Oh, this is not a good investment. You give a quick nod to Jade and flee, with Si close behind, giving you a curious look. As you learn meaningless dining etiquette and posture, that sentence stays with you.

Lying in bed that night, you imagine the sensation is a half-baked dream that comes to you as you fall into sleep. A bubble of blot floating to the surface of your pen.

Mint foam falls out of your mouth in surprise. “Wh-what!” You snatch up your magic pen. No bigger than a facial mole, a speck of blot has dirtied up your magestone. Frantically, you rub your thumb over the mark. Don’t panic. It could be from a stain from your inked papers or perhaps rubbed eraser bits sticking to the surface. You scrub harder at the unrelenting mark.

“Shit shit shit,” you moan as you rush into the bathroom to spit out your toothpaste. “No, no, no,” you bemoan louder when you dip your magestone under the water and the mark remains, a tiny lemur-like pupil staring at you. Sevens, what are you to do now!

The world seems to tilt as you rest your head on the chilled faucet. Slowly, bit by bit, your anxiety begins to pluck your mind out of your ear like it is bad stuffing that was put into a toy wrong. You feel like you are losing your mind.

A trembling hand reaches out to retrieve your violet towelette off the rack, scrubbing the mint off your lips. Senselessly, you stuff the rag stuffed in your mouth. Holding it there, feeling the soft fiber filaments brushing your tongue and gums. With pained abandon, you scream into the soft fabric. You slam the rag down when your caterwauling is finished.

Overblotting? You cannot overblot when you have so much ahead of you. Unconsciously, your body slides down to the corner of the bathroom like a defeated sticky hand falling into a heavy heap of lint and dirt, feeling muddled and disgusted.

A fire erupts on your skin, shoulders and above, roasting your thoughts. It takes an hour to calm yourself down. You ignore Si and Am when they come to collect you – not like they stay long. Sitting, knees tucked to your chest in your bathroom, you went through the motions. Your body refrains from crying, gritting teeth and gripping fingers are your only outlet for stress. Then, the embers reach your arms and smolder out in billowing smoke. Your consciousness slowly returns to you.

Pursue your goal to become Pomefoire’s housewarden. You realize as the fire dies that you had to keep doing what you had been doing all along. To avoid overblotting, you need to ground yourself with your goal. The dot of blot is so tiny! You criticize yourself for panicking so badly. Yet, when you go to pick yourself up in the physical sense, your fingers are still trembling.

The botanical gardens. The botanical gardens. You need to go there and calm down. You shove your magic pen in the pocket of your slacks instead of letting it be exposed to the world in your chest pocket. Despite picking yourself up mentally, you still walk like someone is in a daze. Just get to the botanical gardens and find something to experiment with. You go to imagine comforting oleanders or deathly nightshades. Tightening your teeth, you push open the lips of your dorm and exit on the tongue of your carpet.

You finally feel like you have returned to yourself when the smell of it all rushes to meet you. A scent that fills your veins and roots you. The tang of rich soil, the bite of fresh rain water, the kiss of flora. You could never be away from the land; this smell of earth would be devastatingly missed.

Inhaling deeply, you close the glass door and drift deeper in. There are no classroom activities in the impressive greenhouse until afternoon so you are cleared to explore. Speckled around the vast garden are a few students, studying for herbology, potionology, or something else. Hands sitting on your churning stomach, you make sure to drift around and away from them.

There is such a beauty in here that makes you grateful to be enrolled in Night Raven College. Carried on oily breezes, freckled sunlight enriches everything that it touches and magnifies their hues. It is a renaissance of vibrant childhood wonder from rich reds to popping purples. How gorgeous land is.

As you go, you gather a few yellow angel’s trumpets and blue larkspurs in your hands. You twine the stems one by one, ignoring how the larkspurs start to sizzle against the skin of your hands. An ugly rash will bloom on your palms in the morning. Still, you keep braiding stem by stem, trying to make a senseless pattern in your collection.

You are so intent on your braiding that you make one of the worst mistakes anyone can make in the botanical gardens and step on a lion’s tail. An agitated growl is all the warning you get. As quick as a frog, you jump up and narrowly miss the five claws that swiped where your ankles had been.

With a loud thump, your landing turns a few heads. “Hello, housewarden Kingscholar. Sorry for the disturbance.”

You frequented the botanical garden like an addicted gambler to a casino. You had come to learn everything about it, even Kingscholar’s napping habits and habits when he was not napping. You still remember the way your sock filled with blood your first year when you accidentally woke up Kingscholar.

As the grumbling lion rises up, a few leaves caught in his brown hair, you cast an apologetic smile down to him. Striking green eyes narrow at the sight of you. “Ah, (Name) (Last Name). The one who challenged the Dark Mirror themself.”

You roll your eyes at that as he has always greeted you that way. When were people going to drop that? No matter, you would prove them all foolish when you became a housewarden. Then, people would know you as that instead of capitalizing on something insignificant that happened forever ago.

Because when anyone mentions it, bile rises up to your throat.

“The shape of your soul is Octavinelle!”

You blink awestruck. Huh? You shift your eyes around the mirror chamber as if trying to locate the soul that the Dark Mirror is talking to. However, you know that he is addressing you as dread starts exploding in your chest in sharp bursts. That cannot possibly be right. Is it stuffy in here, the thought flickers over your brain as you try to steady your wild breathing.

The noises around you swallow you whole. Shuffling of polished shoes, the person behind you in line stepping up to take your place. Distance chatter of other students, theorizing on which dorm they will be sorted into. The sound of your — no, Octavinelle’s housewarden, some shark-mer, calling out your first and last name. All of it so loud and obnoxious. All of it is wrong. Your fists unclench and clench rapidly by your side. All of this idiotic noise is –

“You’re wrong!” You spit at the mirror, shattering the cacophony around you.

The student behind you comes to a grinding halt and everyone’s heads turn towards you. You care little, glaring up at the Dark Mirror, and shouting, “You made a mistake! Look at my soul again! You’ll know where I belong!”

Crowley pinches his golden talons up to the filigree metal resting over his nose, summoning up a deep, tired breath. There is always one student. Egotistically set in their ways, they believe they are granted a right to whatever dorm they please. Moving to medicate this ordeal, the Headmaster waves his hand and opens his mouth to speak.

“You!” You turn on him, glaring venomously. “Quiet!”

The ebony feathers on his shoulders seem to gain sentience and ruffle with agitation. Why you rude little thing — Crowley was not expecting the first expulsion to fall on Orientation but —

You fall into a bow, legs standing and head colliding with your knees. A cloak of murky green light falls over your figure. “I know the shape of my soul because it is mine and mine alone. I know that if you look at my soul again, you will realize your mistake. I will accept a beheading or euthanization if I am proven wrong.”

You turn your gaze up towards the mirror, “But even dying, I will be assured you are still in the wrong, Dark Mirror.”

Crowley, having stopped to listen, quickly regains himself. You have quite a little mouth on you, he thinks as he darts to grab you and expel you from his college. The Dark Mirror is unquestionable and omnipotent; you are nothing but an ant begging to not be stepped on. He makes it about halfway to you when —

“Stop.”

The Dark Mirror’s lips fall into a tight line once more. Somehow, the hue of green radiating from the capsule the mask is trapped in glows even brighter.

Crowley is shocked when he realizes the mirror is talking to him.

“I will grant the request of this student to re-read the shape of their soul. Step closer, child.”

You make no mistake this time in your approach. Perhaps anxiety had kept you tethered to a spot too far away from the Dark Mirror. Boldly, you place your dominant hand down upon the glass. People start once more murmuring but you are stone in your resolve. Let the Dark Mirror judge; let it feel past your fingers into the burnt and serrated flesh crawling up your arm; let it taste your dedication and know the shape of your soul.

It takes half of a far too long minute of calculating and reading before the Dark Mirror gives you your answer.

“The shape of your soul is Pomefiore!” You withdrew your hand.

And though it had mattered little to you, housewardens and vice-housewardens and professors and the group of students you shared a year with still talk about it: the only student who got the Dark Mirror to change their dorm. The one moment in Night Raven College history where the Dark Mirror made a mistake. You crinkle your nose at the lion.

“That story’s old history.” You puff and tighten your grip on your bouquet. Oh, the larkspurs are definitely going to leave a rash. “I don’t see why I need to have such a long, tedious nickname tied to such a boring event.”

“Truly self righteous, aren’t you, (Name)?”

“Well, it’s a mouthful, so I can’t see it sticking anyways.” You meddle with your flowers. “Besides, there are more interesting stories like Enma Yuuken. The Dark Mirror might be getting senile, putting me in the wrong dorm at first then the carriage carts a magicless student into our school.”

Pointed teeth smile at you. “Come on now. You? You criticizing the oh, so respectable Dark Mirror is unheard of. What pissed you off?”

“I love the Pomefoire dorm and this school, but I can admit when things are turning upside down.”

The enrollment of a magicless student, the mistakes that both the Dark Mirror and Crowley were making, … the multiple overblots. You try to ignore the weight in your pocket. Night Raven College had been having an unusual couple of years.

“Still, I thought you had an avoidance policy for Octavinelle? After the Dark Mirror tried to put you there.”

Oh, so that is why he brought up the incident with the Dark Mirror due to your relations with Octavinelle. As you stirred your flowers, you had been trying to figure out Kingscholar’s goal. Everyone in your year was at least aware of your hatred for Octavinelle. Working with Jade Leech, no matter how smart, he was still an Octavinelle student. You were not one for secrecy so yours and Jade’s mysterious relations had probably became the next grape on the vine.

Still, you could've only been seen interacting with him in the Pomefiore labs or the botanical garden as you avoided him in class. “He asked me for tutoring with potionology. Having Leech indebted to me is sure to be a plus when I become Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“Is that so?” From his lounging pose, he suddenly strikes up. Jade is only five centimeters taller than him. Still, you feel more crushed like a rat in a cat’s paws under those emerald eyes than mismatched ones. Brunette hair billows around his angular face and starts to brush you when he leans in close. “Has scenting become part of tutoring now?”

Scenting? Did the lingering smell of certain poison stain your clothes? You always experimented with poisons whose smell lingered on your arm since before Orientation and no one said anything. Si and Am had been looking at you weird since a week ago, is it a cat thing?

You furrow your expression at the too close incline Kingscholar has over your body. This is typical of him. Whenever you were in the botanical gardens during daylight, a lion would find itself leaning over you. Still, you should maintain your promise that you would stay on the benevolent side of every housewarden and not bite back. You even managed to smile at Malleus Draconia two weeks ago! Though it had sent shivers down your spine and left you dizzy with terror. So be nice to Kingscholar, you remind yourself, though you are always nice to Kingscholar.

You puff in surprise at his next move. Leona moves his face to rest his chin on the crook of your collarbone. Getting a face full of voluminous hair, you spit when some gets too close to your mouth. If your hands were not occupied with flowers, you would poke him. Instead, you vouch to remind, “No sleeping on me while standing, Kingscholar.”and dig your chin into his head.

Your only response is a soft sniffle against your neck. You twitch at the feel of it.

“If the smell of cyanide on me is bothersome, my apologies, Housewarden Kingscholar.”

“Nonsense, I like that scent on you.” He moves back and starts to mess with the flowers in your hand, claws poking at petals. “This other smell though –”

Leona stiffens. His keen eyes flicker up to your face and then back down to the flowers. Like an insect sprayed with water, his nose twitches and twitches.

What is he so concerned about? But then, one of his fingerless gloved hands starts to go down to your waist. Terror reaches out as Leona does, squeezing your heart like a mutt ripping into their favorite toy. Ice shoots down into your burning, rash-covered fingertips. You had forgotten, as you lingered here in conversation with Leona, that he could smell magic. The crumbs and residue of a spell. The stain of an overblot dot. You go to jump back when –

“Ah, Pufferfish, I thought I would find you here.”

It is a moment of convenience and parrying, you harshly remind yourself as you look with eager eyes at Jade Leech. You had completely forgotten about the break between second and third period. Perhaps he was hoping to spend time with his terrariums? Whatever the reason, you will take your exit graciously.

Annoyance paints Leona’s face as you slip through his grasp like sand. You bound over to Jade’s side and quickly go to speak about his ‘tutoring’, knowing he is sly enough to catch on. Yet you are interrupted as he observes the poisonous flowers in your hands and smiles, “Ah, are those for me? How generous.”

You try to ignore it. You really try to submerge the feeling in the back of your mind but it erupts in a heat across your neck and ears. “O-Oh, I. I um.”

“Thank you,” Jade smiles and delicately peels the larkspurs and angel’s trumpets from your hands. He admires the braided stems. “Angel’s trumpets. You do always seem drawn to the things named after angels. Fufufu, quite fitting, indeed.”

The flush over your skin dies when you hear a low growl behind you. You turn to Leona, a brief shock in your eyes. “Ah, housewarden Kingscholar,” you start and the anger seems to deflate out of Leona, typical annoyance adorning his face. “I have to go. Leech and I are actually going to do some studying on these types of flowers. I’ll see you later?”

Despite the fact anger is gone from Leona’s expression, his tail is shifting behind him, contemplating his motions. His eyes trail to the flowers clutched in Jade’s gloved hands. “See you later. Don’t disturb my nap next time.”

Taking the opportunity, you and Jade exit. Though you mourn being gone from the fresh air of the botanical gardens, you are grateful to have escaped with your secret (which makes your worry about said secret less tantalizing than before). You and Jade stride in silence for a while. He is surprisingly finishing braiding the remaining flowers that you missed, content to ignore you. You start to feel that familiar flame crawl up your shoulders, worrying about that black dot. You bring a thumb to your mouth, biting at the edge.

Noticing, Jade pops the head off one angel’s trumpet and hands it to you. “What are the side effects of this one? No flowers grow in the Coral Sea.”

You gratefully take the cone-headed flower, rolling it around in your bare fingertips. “If you ingest them, fever, hallucinations, and persistent memory disturbances, to name a few things. When brewed in tea, they can block this compound that sends signals to cells to do specific body functions and results in delirium. Ingest a whole bouquet, you’re looking at death and a life without children.” Jade lifts an eyebrow at that. “They’ll paralyze your dick.”

“Oh,” the eel-mer grows a bit paler in his cheeks. You start to chuckle, feeling a little of the weight that had been crushing you earlier lift off. “Truly a deadly angel. Hm, you said something about brewing them in tea.”

You puff at him, “Don’t think I’ll be willing to drink anything you serve me. I wouldn’t trust bottled water from your hands.”

“And yet you drank a drink Floyd presented you with when signing our contract. How cruel of you. Perhaps you should have made a deal with him instead.”

“Don’t joke like that.” The eel-mer gives you that odious smile. A grimace falls on your face at the sight of him looking happy.

Still … you made a promise to maintain good-naturedness with NRC’s housewardens and their second in command were simply an extension of them. “Leech. Thank you for retrieving me.”

“Ah, it is no problem. You looked like you needed an out. I provided one.” Still … you want to gripe that it meant a lot to you, but you rather not push it. If the sycophantic was going to act against his nature and help you, accept it. “To be frank, think nothing of it; I’m positive that you will get me back eventually.” Spoke too soon.

“Yes, I’m sure you and Azul have already created an outlined list of each small favor you had done for me during our time under contract.”

“All completed with dates and times,” Jade adds helpfully.

You chuckle, pressing the angel's trumpet to your lips. Inhaling the sweet scent, you think how monumental it is that eating such a plant could make someone fall into a coma. Truly, magical spells are petite stars compared to the universe of power nature has given the world. So enamored with the upside-down umbrella-like petals, you blink in surprise once realizing both of you are walking towards the Hall of Mirrors.

“Have you always been so close with that lion?”

Your shoulders rise in surprise. “Kingscholar? Yeah, we’re close. He naps in the botanical gardens often and I’m in there experimenting. We know each other fairly well. Though I’d rather not be the spot that he decides to nap on.”

This time you notice he is not looking at you. Odd, when you were speaking a moment ago, you two held each other’s gazes. He has his eyes trained towards his ‘gifted’ bouquet as if trying to shield something from you.

“I had not realized. Perhaps, I have not been to the botanical gardens as frequently as I thought.” His keen eyes cut a perfect bisecting line across your features. Bristling under his harsh attention, you listen as he says, “Do you see him as a friend like Si and Am?”

“I try to keep every housewarden in my good graces. If he does not graduate, I’ll be standing beside him at Orientation. I would rather our relationship be more stable than the one between him and Schoenheit.”

And that is the honest truth. You had already tried your hardest to become friends with Rosehearts and Al-Asim. You were slightly successful both times as they were rather easy to appease in their own ways. Ashengrotto had proven to be a harder buyer of your friendship, especially since you were very opposed to stepping into Octavinelle. Still, remaining cordial with Kingscholar was planned too because he might stay back another year. Yet, you never spoke to Schoenheit.

As Jade is contemplating your words, you two enter the Hall of Mirrors. It is slightly dense with students, coming from free periods into Night Raven College. You step close to Jade and look up.

“Housewarden Kingscholar is just, well he’s just that. Housewarden Kingscholar.”

Seemingly this pleases Jade because he gives a little satisfied hum at the answer. “Well,” he starts as he picks the angel’s trumpet out of your hands. “I can see no one will be breaking through your barricades any time soon. Not unless they’re equipped with a tank of sorts.”

He takes the yellow flower and places it on the nook of your ear. His fingers move down and down until he reaches your neck, rubbing his thumb against it again. What was up with that?

“Well, my shift at Mostro Lounge starts this period so I should be going.” You nod, sharing the sentiment.

“Perhaps you can grace me with your presence sometime. Floyd will serve your drink.”

“Anyone ever have the guts to tell you that your jokes aren’t funny?”

“I happen to be known as a very fun-gi by those close to me.”

“That was awful, Leech.”

Seconds before you depart from each other, Jade instructs you, “Take a shower when you get back to your dorm.” You blink at him as he starts to slip a leg into the Octavinelle mirror. “Just … benevolent advice.” And then, with your bouquet in hand, the flickering mirror slides over him like a wave and Jade Leech is gone.

Jade is smiling. Which in itself is not unusual. Jade is typically always smiling, eyes angled up and a polite simper on his features. The roulette of emotions he shows on his face is few but smiling seems to be a constant.

This smile is something different, though. One that is barely concealing its malice mirth with tiny twitches. Like he has a knife attached to his sleeve, gearing to slit your throat ear to ear. If you shrink into yourself a little, you tell yourself it is self defense rather than cowardice.

And he’s walking faster towards you than usual! Sevens, he might just be plotting to kill you.

He comes in front of the steel desk with one hand over his heart and the other behind his back. You noticed it briefly when he was discussing destroying angel mushrooms but it is more prominent now. When Jade is pleased, his eyes glow slightly. Dim luminous yellow like a pinprick of a flashlight, yellow gliding over his eyelashes.

“Good morning, Pufferfish.”

“You seem awfully pleased, Leech.” The hand that you decided conveniently to place your neck on is self defense, you remind yourself. “You managed to steal the spot of housewarden from Azul? Discover a new species of mushroom?”

“Though it is regrettable not the latter, I can assure you that I am ‘awfully pleased’ for reasons that you will be most gratuitous for.”

Oh that is not a good sign. Shifting in your seat, you say, “Okay, I’m biting. What’s got you so happy?”

Grin growing, he pulls his non-dominant hand from his spine and holds his source of happiness out to you. You almost faint.

You stare at the vial as if it will suddenly combust like a poorly wired bomb or grow teeny legs to visit the Headmaster to snitch. Then, your heart starts pounding excited bursts. You leap over the desk and grab Jade by his tie, hissing, “How did you even manage to get this!”

“The Octavinelle dorm prides itself on benevolently helping others in need. If there is a problem, we procure a solution. Thus, due to this sympathetic principle, we do have connections in every dorm, and with every housewarden.”

“Ashengrotto managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit!”

“Fufufu, to me, blackmail is such a crass word. But it is better to be the one holding the debt, than be indebted.”

Hand still clutching Jade’s tie, you turn and stare down at the vial. It is the poison that made Vil Schoenheit housewarden after his first year attending NRC. You had watched the broadcast as often as you did your housewarden’s overblot. Enraptured and drawn in by the ferocity of a Pomefiore’s housewarden. How you yearned to be that grand and perfect. As perfectly pristine as the lacy, overblot insignia on Schoenheit’s forehead. In Jade’s hand was an achievement that any Pomefiore student would kill to have. And Jade has it held out to level with your nose! You do not realize it but your features are inches away from brushing his cheek as you lean in. Fixated, you stare at the bluish-green liquid like it is a winning lottery ticket. The gluttonous liquid stares back.

In awe, you whisper, “Who would have imagined Schoenheit caught up in strings?” You reach out a finger to briefly draw a line down the vial. “So pretty. Poison is so pretty.” Like a mage has placed a potent charm on your soul, you are bewitched by the sight of the vial.

You snap out of it when Jade’s chuckle blows warm air on the side of your face. Suddenly realizing the distance between the two of you is not even considered distance, you quickly fall back into your seat. Your heart is pounding rapidly; is it because of the lack of distance or being so close to that poison?

“Be honest, how did you manage to get it? No way this came easy. A Pomefiore’s housewarden’s pride is their ability to make a winning poison.”

“Vil is an individual meticulous about his looks. That’s his main pride. Floyd and I happened to halt the production of one of his skincare products in order for me to retrieve this for you.” Then, shockingly, Jade slowly grabs your dominant hand and unfurls the fingers. You shiver at his unhesitant touch. He drops the vial into your grasp. Grip on it sturdy, you look up at Jade’s radiating eyes.

“Wait. You’re giving this to me.”

He halted the entire production of skincare? Were there recognizable name brand products under the management of the Octavinelle trio? You couldn’t have guessed that their influence was that large. Struck with some warm, foreign emotion, your eyes trail back down to the hypnotizing, lovely poison in your hand. “But why?” Why would Jade Leech ever pull a single string in the marionette of influence that he and his two friends had over NRC for you?

Answering your question, Jade straightens his posture and a hand falls to his chest, “Like previously stated, it is better to be the one holding the debt than be indebted.”

Oh. A frost falls over whatever unknown warmth had previously enraptured you. You realize what you hold on your hand is far from a gift but a leash. A bit of blackmail to hang over you at all times. A knife always at the back. No good deed comes without a price to pay – unsurprisingly, this is another debt to that outlined list.

As if noticing your sudden emotional shift, Jade amends, “but this time you can be assured that when time comes for me to cash in, it will make you awfully pleased. Trust me.”

“That’s asking the impossible, Leech,” you sigh.

Despite your words, you roll the vial around in your hand anyways. You are already thinking of all the things you can do with the treasure in your possession. First will be dissecting the ingredients. Or should you test it on your arm? A delighted shiver runs down your back. You feel like you are on cloud nine.

You have been facing trouble almost all your life. Truly what was one more offense? If Jade was not being deceitful then this would work in your favor. Sycophants were not usually known for such generosity. Maybe you misjudged the eel – if only a little bit.

“Leech.” You cannot believe you are about to say this. “Thank you. You didn’t have to and I didn’t ask for it. So, thank you.” There you go, out with it, no matter if it feels like chewing nails.

His smiles turn a bit warmer. Yet, in typical fashion of his, he weighs his next words carefully. What should it be: Azul and I; the Octavinelle dorm; or I, singular. Instead, Jade omits himself, “Azul expects great things from you when you are a housewarden, Pufferfish. Don’t disappoint him.”

A prideful grin materializes on your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You pull Jade’s seat out from under the table. “Sit. I’m dying to test this.”

Jade makes no move to sit. You are arrogant to his plight, eagerly unbuttoning your vest. He traces his eyes over your collarbone, the ridges where bone pushes up. Drawing his eyes over the brightness of your eyes and the speed of your fingers. The collared shirt falls to the ground. The tiniest hit of muscle tone in your unbandaged arm stirs up his slippery intestines. Upon being so close, observing, Jade thinks he might get cold feet. But

“I also brought this for you.”

His words are apprehensive; his self-assured smile is strained. Your hand stops fiddling with the tied part of your bandages. Whatever Jade is appearing to hand over to you must be more dangerous than the vial you grip. Nails snap into your flesh like an activated bear-trap. Dreadfully, you remember your new possession could usher you into expulsion. You wait with baited breath.

“It is a gift. I,” Jade clears his throat, seemingly frustrated with himself, “I thought that with your affection for poisonous things that you would enjoy it.” He waves his magestone through the humid air. A lavender comet paints the air briefly.

At first, an irrational part of you worries he will summon a sulfuric liquid to pour over your head in a sick joke. So though your muscles slightly tighten up, Jade still goes through with his spell. Worry withers. You spring up upon seeing what he has summoned.

“Wow.”

In front of you sits a terrarium. The glass structure is shaped like a tiny gnome house, perhaps about one quarter smaller than a gingerbread house. Elegant black metal twirls around the pentagon’s sides. Moss and soil with a few decorative pieces of bark lie on the bottom. Inside lies two destroying angels, one taller than the other. It is oddly sentimentally of Jade.

There comes that warm, strange emotion again. What is it? Perhaps, your addiction to self-done tests is eroding a part of your stomach or ribs. Is some acid sitting dormant in your chest, waiting until Jade does something unexpected?

“Thank you.”

You push the thought away. Nothing to be concerned about.

“So. Jade Leech?”

Really, you should learn to collar your emotions. Why did Night Raven College not teach a course about emotional intelligence? Perhaps then every housewarden would not be falling in a domino effect of overblotting. Trying fruitlessly to relax your shoulders, you ask over them, “What about him?”

“You just have been spending a lot of time with him.”

“I agree. It is almost weekly at this point.”

“Almost daily if I remember correctly, just not Tuesdays or Thursdays.”

“Odd.”

“Truly odd.”

Bristling, you send a venomous look over your shoulder. “I don’t like what you’re implying.” The siamese twins give you a matching expression of mock confusion.

“Implying what?” Si asks.

“Implying what?” Am asks.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and continue down Night Raven’s halls. The twins had been flanking (in their words, escorting you) since you all left Humanities. Usually, this would not bother you. Catty and sly, they were still your friends. You even planned to pick one of them as your vice-housewarden when the time came.

You just really do not like what they were implying.

Am tucks a strand of hair between his ear and says, “It is just odd that after your self-proclaimed ban on anything involving Octavinelle that you would hang out with the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle so often.”

Si adds in, flicking dust off his tail, “We all know you are not dumb enough to sign up a contract with Azul. So what has you so enthralled with that eel?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the motions. Are they truly disturbed the thought of you hanging out with Jade Leech? Though their body language was quite different from yours. Still, how sweet of them.

“Are you in trouble, (Name)? If you ever need a fish flayed, you have two cats at the defense.” Am puts an elbow on your shoulder.

Si follows along, “Little eel wouldn’t know what hit him.”

You chuckle at their offers. Si and Am are certainly dangerous students. Deep crystal blue eyes (framed by golden hair with black tips) that were shrewd and curious. Two matching sets of claws for each of them that could shred skin easily. Large fangs only visible when they chose to intimidate. Unpredictable and volatile cats.

At least with Floyd Leech and Jade Leech, you had a little distinction with who you were dealing with due to their unmatched hair. The siamese twins were perfect clones of each other, adding to the turbulent experience of interacting with them.

“I can take care of myself,” you say, grateful to finally come up to the door of Divus Crewel’s class. “Though, the offer is not on a time limit, is it?” A playful, unserious smile grows on your face.

“Of course not,” both of them say in unison.

You laugh and disappear through the door, singing “Have a good day you two.” You miss it, but as soon as your back is turned, those shrewd blues eyes sink down into malice, cutting glares.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah!”

You jump in surprise. Why are you so surprised, you arranged for Jade to meet you here? Hand on your heart, you greet the eel-mer with a timid smile as he leans over, teeth on display. It is quite cute that he tucks that black strand behind his ear when wearing safety goggles. Heart slowing, you scold, “Warn me before you speak.”

His eyes narrow yet his smile stays present. Chuckling, Jade stands up to his full height and stalks off. He truly is sinister in his motions at times, never revealing too much. “So. How did you manage to get Crewel’s classroom empty?”

“I offered up study sheets for Crewel’s upcoming exam to get the students that were going to use this room today.”

“Hm, where have I heard that before?”

Upset that he is comparing you to his housewarden (who is in Octavinelle), you bump your hip into his. “Watch it, Leech.”

It brings back that nagging thought all the same. You gather up your lab coat as Jade moves a couple of items around the room. Octavinelle. Why did destiny try to push you into somewhere you did not belong? Fingers buttoning up the coat, you seethe at the idea. Were you contorting and bending yourself into a position you did not belong to; to you, it is either become the housewarden of Pomefiore or become nothing – your train of thought ends when Jade puts the vial of poison in your gloved hands. He has finished setting up the cauldrons to analyze the simple ingredients of Schoenheit’s poison. No. This was right. And for some reason what encourages that thought is not the vial but the smile on Jade’s face.

Dead ends. The end of a road or passage from which no exit is possible. Dead ends in artwork, staring at a computer or canvas and unable to create. Dead ends in jobs, accepting the placement of yourself that has no chance of advancement into a higher position. Dead ends in academics, coming to the point where you had wrung out the last bit of your knowledge into a project.

You were sure that just around the bend, your nose would punch into concrete and your stubbed toes would ache in a grueling pain. The passage that you were taking to Pomefiore housewarden would summon a blocking wall. Faith would call you to struggle up it and climb. But … your nose was raw from past collisions and your heels were numb from previous efforts, another climb might mean you would slip down. Crunch and splat when you drop. Emotionally, you just felt exhausted and raw.

Jade might have been right, you would never be satisfied despite numerous testing trails. Your poison could kill a dragon in a day and you would go on trying for a lethal dose that worked in twenty-three hours, then moving onto twenty-two hours. Why were you like this?

Lamenting, you toss over in bed. The ceiling blinks at you, uncomforting. You rest the back of your hand on your forehead as if you were checking for a temperature. Jumbled legs twist the lilac sheets and you ask one of Sevens to aid you into sinking into the bed. You feel like some cheap rendition of Fuseli’s The Nightmare, locked in by this mood. Slowly, you slide your head over the side of your bed so the world tilts upside down. Your dominant hand knuckles kiss the floor, bandages stretching from the arc. There is a more accurate rendition.

Self-experimenting on your arm usually grounded you in volatile times. A new burn cries on your shoulder as you roll your knuckle on the ground. Dealing with both speckles of blot and the upcoming exam … well, self-experimentation was not providing the usual security.

You fidget your hand in senseless motions, thinking and thinking. Your contract was signed for the purpose of opening new doors to you. Granted, Jade Leech did have the keys to access them but – “Yet your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much.” and those shimmering eyes stamp themselves in your mind.

You spring up in bed!

Flipping yourself off the bed, you growl and kick when your legs get tangled in the sheets. Your shortcomings. Your shortcomings would not be what got in the way of becoming Poemfiore’s housewarden. The brick wall that would be found around the bend would not be your own reflection!

Riding off that positive energy, you hover over your dresser. You had a minimal amount of clothes, so most of the dresser was filled and packed with papers relating to your research along with your poisons. Sealed with your own magic, of course. Trusting public storage lockers, even if locked by Divus Crewel himself, made you nervous.

You look at all the locked drawers, hand starting to reach for your magic pen when you suddenly stop. The terrarium Jade had given you rested on the solid-wood top. Destroying angels. The twin angels nestle against each other, one tall and the other medium sized.

Before you really comprehend yourself, you are lifting up the glass-house top and using the poker to lock it into an open position. Carefully, trying to not disturb the foliage, you pluck up an angel.

“My own shortcomings, hm,” you murmur and twist the mushroom around. You refuse to fail because of yourself. Perhaps, you are self-experimenting in the wrong places. You had tasted poison before but … “I’ll tell it to Leech when I see him,” you decide and take a bite of the poisonous mushroom.

You just have to be more hands on.

“Taste-testing your own poison?” Jade asks.

This is your objective when you see Jade Leech, the next day. This meeting is in the botanical gardens, a bit deeper into the greenhouse and a bit later than usual. In his hand, he rotates the half bitten destroying angel you had presented like a proposal ring out of your dorm pocket. His scrutinizing eyes flick between you and the bite marks.

Sevens … why are you nervous for his approval on this matter?

“How surprising of you. Grown bored of our tiny simulacrum spells, have you?” He sinks a thumbnail into the indented space. Studying intently on where you have bitten and the size you consumed, the grams of amatoxin poison.

“Would you really want to go through what they have on a larger scale? Small bits like these are much less … lethal. It would be unfortunate if you jeopardized your life before the contract collects it.”

“Odd way to say you’re worried about my life.”

“Oh, nothing of the sort.”

Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Shimmering inside, you quickly grab the paperwork you prepared for tonight. You must be making that pufferfish expression because Jade smiles warmly at you. “See, I calculated it out. I was able to neutralize the amatoxin in the mushrooms with magic. I burnt it all away from my system.”

You quickly slid a paper in front of Jade and continued. “This is the list of poison that I had tested orally before and some I have even built up tolerances to.” His lips move slightly as he reads them. Ignoring your warming neck, you grab the paperwork and start reorganizing your poison bottles. “I can safely consume a variety of these and burn them out of me when they become too lethal.”

“It is also correct of me to assume that you will proceed with this even without my approval.”

“Yes, very correct,” you grin and pull a specific poison between you. Pinching it by the cork, you amorously twirl it on the table in sly circles. Inside, ebon liquid that shines mauve rocks like a bobbing ship. “But, it would be more benevolent of you to help, yes?”

“I suppose,” Jade grumbles.

He is a bit displeased at having been caught by his own contract clause. Not that you need to know that his benevolent interest involves keeping you safe. You excitedly uncork the bottle and shuffle paperwork towards him. No, you definitely do not need to know that.

“Great!”

You stand up from the table and take a few steps back. You put the cork into the pocket of your dorm uniform and raise the bottle to your lips. It is all happening so quickly that Jade’s heart jumps like a frog into his throat. Give an eel a warning!

Before you drink, your eyes widen and you remember something. You reach onto the table and grab a … watch? “Almost forgot. I want you to write down all that happens along with the times. I’ll try to stay talking for as long as possible.”

“You do know that you are drinking a poison meant to kill a dragon.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of what poisons I work with.”

“Perhaps a smaller sip should be taken. We can calculate the volume and density between you and a dragon. It should work the same.”

“No, I’d rather drink it all.”

“Benevolently, I think –”

“Leech,” here you grab his hands and force them to cup together. Oh Sevens, his face feels warm. “Trust in me. I will become Pomefoire’s housewarden. I just have to work past the limits.” You deposit the watch into his gloved hands. “Keep time for me.”

“Okay.” The words of a smitten eel.

“Thank you.” You fall back a few steps and lift the poison back up. “Time?”

“Nine, forty-eight, zero three. Zero four. Zero five.”

“Good.”

Delicately, like you are sipping a rare tea, you lift the poison’s bottle to rest on your bottom lip. You hold it there, listening to Jade count up. You cannot allow yourself to be the reason you fail. You cannot be your own shortcoming, something else would have to interfere. Doing this, you would be able to calculate the specifics of what the poison targets, the speed, and so much more!

Still, your heart is quickly hammering up in your throat.

Medicine. Take it like it is medicine. You sternly tell yourself. And before the begging fists of your heart can beat any faster, you take it all down in one gulp. Just like medicine.

“Tw-Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.” Jade uncharacteristically stumbles in his counting. He keeps going as your throat bobs with the weight of poison.

The taste is not putrid. You do not shake your head or scrunch your nose at all. Swallowing with a tiny quiver of your bottom lip, your face falls neutral. A thumb wipes your lisp for good measure. “Twenty-one. Twenty-two.” Now, it is all about the waiting.

You two do have to wait long because before Jade can even reach the full sixty seconds, your dominant hand suddenly rises up to your lips in surprise. No way. Before you pinch it down, a cough pounds itself free from you. And it is a horrifically wet, gurgling cough. You move your hand away, staring at the strings of blood connecting lip to hand.

“(Name).”

“Keep counting.”

Okay, what was this targeting first? Scrutinizing over the liquid, you think about your airways. Your tongue was still intact. So this was not completely fast-acting and more gore decorates your hand as you hunch over with another punching cough. Your airways were mostly likely corroding first, but a dragon had such thick airways. What should you do to maximize –

Before you can theorize more, you are on your knees, choking like you ran a marathon. Blood splatters out of your mouth. Sevens, you really should burn it out of you.

You go to grab your magestone — the spell will weigh heavy on it but — you startle when two hands grab your shoulders, unsure of who is trying to get a one up on you. Hand clapped over your quivering mouth, you meet Jade’s narrowed eyes and watch his lips move. That’s right. It’s just Jade. You shuffle one arm out of his tight grip, fist around your magestone. The spell sends the sensation of barb-wire veins running up into steel arteries, but you still manage it.

The room goes black, all electricity absorbed by your pen. As your breath and hearing come back to you, you find Jade’s shoulder in the dark.

“Write down everything I’m about to say,” you say victorious.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!”

Vengefully, you grasp the drawer’s knob and fling the wooden box across your room. The momentum causes it to hit the mirror above your desk. Snowflakes of glass sneeze out onto your carpet in a musical burst. The symphony just causes you to grind your teeth harder until your gums are begging for relief.

“Where – Where,” you caterwaul desperately. Snowflakes of agony hurricane in your mouth and reduce your once stable voice to a shredded mimic of itself.

You rip open another drawer. Inside is exactly what you are not looking for. That is predictable because you knew you would never misplace what you are currently without. Still, you desperately search and search, fruitlessly hoping that you did misplace it. Still, you claw through your room because it is better than having to face the music that someone has stolen your research notes and preparations for the summer exam.

“Please,” you beg the last untouched drawer in your room. “Please.”

Slowly, the drawer opens up and in it are no bundles of paper twined with magic nor your nine bottles of poison nor Vil Schoenheit’s vial of poison. Like a puppet cut from its strings, you fold over the drawer and start to hyperventilate. “N-ngh, no … no.”

Distantly, you feel the raindrops. Three consecutive splat splat splat falling over your head, spreading down your curled spine and seeping into you. Overblot. Though your pen is far from your hand, you feel it clearly there. The soulbound between you and your pen burns you. Magic becomes dirtier as emotional pain pushes at your throat like vengeful hands. Rein it in, you scold yourself, hunching and groaning at the pain. You dig your forehead into the wood of your dresser to focus on anything but the watery black liquid that coats you. “Br-Breathe,” you scold yourself.

Slowly, you emerge out of the phantom blot that has infected you. Like caught in a shuddering light, your body moves in odd inhuman jerks. Nails digging into the dresser’s top, you pull yourself up. “Breathe,” you repeat a little firmer this time.

The botanical gardens or Pomefiore’s laboratory. Preferably, the laboratory in Pomefiore’s dorm so you will not collide with any unwanted attention. You surmise that the best course of action is to find a way to calm down. If you can drown this painful burn with something stronger – You will – You will just sign another contract with Ashengrotto to locate who stole from you. Desperately, you plan and plan how you can avoid overblotting. On twitching legs, you exit your dorm of discord and leave your magestone on your desk.

“Breathe.”

The walk to your room and Pomefiore’s private laboratory feels like stepping on hot coals barefoot. Burying yourself into the violet sleeve of your dorm uniform, you try to navigate with limited vision. Your fellow dormmates look upon you like you are a stumbling raccoon drunk off rabies. You keep most of your warm face hidden by the sleeve over your cheek and nose. Sevens, you hope that no one has rented the laboratory for a private study.

Your motions are still unstable and jumbled. The revelation that someone has successfully stolen your work from you is world-tilting. Tripping over your own feet and bumping shoulders with students, you reach a hand to your sternum and push. Your hand tries to combat the rapid pace of your heart.

“No, don't think like that,” you mumble drunkenly but then the thought consumes you.

Jade Leech. Heart lunging into your bone like a claymore, you wince violently at the thought. After giving you Schoenheit’s poison, what is the purpose of taking it back then taking everything else in addition? Would his contract allow him to steal? If his benevolence was tied not towards helping you but helping Ashengrotto, then it might be a loophole. No, he was contractually forced to assist you; plus his character …

“No, Jade, won’t,” you start but stop. You do not know that eel-mer. You are not on a first name basis. Despite that, your heart pounds at the raw leather and rose flesh of your ribcage and muscular system, terribly sad.

Stumbling, you make it shoulder first into the door of Pomefiore’s lab. With a groan, you push open the door and fall in. Momentarily, you close your eyes and breathe in the scent of chemicals. Home on Saturdays and Sundays. Days in the laboratory with mother. Breathing becomes easier and then you open your eyes and it is suddenly unachievable.

“You fucking trait –!”

Your hand races down to your empty pocket, feeling for your magic pen. You stumble twice, once when realizing you left your pen in your dorm and second when the growing mass of a water spell is pointed in your direction.

“Cut it out, (Last Name). Throw your magestone on the ground now.”

“I-I don’t have it on me.”

The absolute devastation laced in your face and voice must be enough because … A wicked laugh billows up out of sharp teeth. Water spell drips off his pen. Your body puffs defensively at the shame you feel. In one hot glare, you watch Si and Am laugh cruelly at you.

“Give me back my stuff, you traitors,” you growl.

“Come, surely, you don’t think your words are going to get us to relinquish this to you.”

“Took way too many unlock spells to get our rewards.”

“Truly such a paranoid individual you are. Seven arcane lock spells.”

“You have always been so troublesome since Orientation.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you scream, hands clenching at your side. “It is locked up because it is mine. It belongs to me.”

“There you go again,” Am sighs. “Always claiming things. Claiming that the Pomefiore dorm is yours. Claiming that this,” the siamese lifts up the vial and a chill stabs you, “is yours when it is actually Schoenheit’s. Do you really have anything that is yours besides your self righteousness?”

You have heard enough and rush towards the twins. It is two against one. Pure magic against an overblotting mage. It is a battle that has already decided its victory, but you march into it nonetheless. Tails whip up in surprise as you close a long gap in seconds. Aiming towards Am, you raise up one fist, vision red with anger. The punch does not land.

Instead, a levitation spell bubbles around the back of your head and you are slammed swiftly into the wood of a lab table. “Fuck!” Your body crumples to the ground as those laughs start up again.

“HAHAHAHA, the future housewarden of Pomefiore everyone. A round of applause for this intelligent, unrelenting mage,” Si sings, summoning an auditory track of cheering and hollering whoops with his magestone.

Am hurdles a more subdued laugh at you. “Truly, did you expect to be the next housewarden? That wasn’t a jest?” The cat smiles larger when you — pushed to the dirty ground on all fours and a slime-trail of red down your nose — glare up at him. “Oh, it wasn’t. How sad.”

Mouth opening, you go defend your future position as housewarden. They knew you deserved that position. They were stealing your information above anyone else. You were the most likely winner for the exam, with or without Jade Leech’s and with or without Schoenheit’s poison. Claws sink into the soft flesh of your cheek. Claws cut off all your bristling anger before you can speak. Si pulls you up between the chest of him and his brother.

Kingscholar slashed open your ankle once but nothing compares to this bloody pain. Physically injured and emotionally embarrassed is a deadly combination. You cry out when Am takes one of his claws and cuts diagonal along your noise.

“Now, tell us, what does the brilliant (Name) have in their plans? How do you rebound,” fangs wink and preen at you in victory. “What’s the revenge for us going to look like?”

“Th-The Dark Mirror,” you spit out from the bear-trap of fingers clenching deeper into your face. One of your hands rises up and clenches back at Si’s wrist. “That’s my work. The Dark Mirror will recognize my magic on it.”

“Come now, don’t be so dense. Even if the Dark Mirror recognizes your work, we always have one ace up our sleeve.”

Schoenheit’s poison is waved in front of your bloody nose like a hypnotizing clock.

“You should know that no underclassman can receive help from their housewarden for the upcoming summer exam. I don’t know how you managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit but well done. You sealed your own fate.”

“Besides, (Name), who will they believe: us, the amiable students who have drawn no attention to themselves, or the student who has always had one foot in expulsion and one in attendance after disrespecting Dire Crowley? Crowley would die to have a reason to kick you out.”

“No more troublesome little mage in NRC.”

“No more housewarden (Last Name).”

All your thoughts and anger caught in your throat, all you do is puff. You want to warn them to watch what they drink, be careful what might slip into their food, but you know that the threat of Dire Crowley’s involvement is all too real. You cannot poison them if they leave something behind for Crowley to find. Think. Think. Think.

Sharp cobalt eyes meeting, they seem to conclude they are done with you. With a simple wave of a magestone, your body is propelled through the door and into the adjacent wall in a single blinking second.

“Ack,” your throat cries as you crumple to the floor.

“Tah-dah!”

An explosion of confetti explodes over your head and the coupling laughter of Si and Am cuts off when the laboratory door closes shut. Under the shower of pinks and yellows and whites, you sit, bleeding heavily from your nose. Trembling once more, you jerk yourself into a ball and put the sleeve on your uniform firmly to your mouth.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. BreatheBreatheBreatheBreathe –

You have been using your magic pen, less and less.

It is only natural, you scold yourself. A safety precaution that you need to take. Instead of openly volunteering to demonstrate spells for professors, you let another student take up the helm. But it causes an itch to glove itself over your arm, observing and not participating in potionology.

Perhaps people think you have gained modesty. Perhaps people are thinking you are growing lazy. You would bare your teeth at all of them. They don’t understand. Holding your magic pen is like holding your hand on a bomb always. It is like holding a grenade with the thoughtlessness of holding a rubber eraser. A simple levitation spell to grab potions off Crewel’s top shelf could blow off and unravel the bones and blood of your hand.

Eventually, you are going to get caught. Too many times using a ladder instead of a levitation spell, too many times struggling with tightly sealed caps instead of using an elementary ‘unscrew’ spell. With a vice-housewarden like Hunt, you know when eyes are peering at you. You just wished that it was anyone else.

“Twenty-seven,” you grumble. It really is not meant to be heard and is for your own pitiful attempt at finding some entertainment in this entire shitty storm. Still, it is hard to keep things hidden from Jade Leech – spoken or unspoken, it comes to light.

“Twenty-seven,” Jade muses from behind you. His hand is posed to his chin in that calculating manner. “If I counted correctly, I only looked at you seven times during our Defense Magic class and then five times in our Flying class. That makes twelve.”

Sometimes, you wish that you did carry the physical traits of a pufferfish so you could stab and stab at the annoyance that is Jade Leech. Pufferfish regrettably were not poisonous for eels to consume. So slicing yourself up for him to eat would be useless. Sighing, you slow your steps so you and him fall into walking next to each other.

“Only twelve? I swear I thought you were going to burn a hole in my head. Are you going to add to that number when we reach potionology?”

“Perhaps then I can actually reach twenty-seven. I will work diligently to get there.”

You crush the laugh that wants to come out and stay silent, upset at everything, him and beyond.

“Pufferfish, you have missed our last two scheduled meetings. Monday and Wednesday at eight PM. I’ll have you know that I loathe having my time wasted.”

“Sorry.”

“Does that mean I can expect your presence in the botanical gardens tomorrow?”

“No. No, don't wait for me there.”

Jade gives you a curious look, the tiniest hint of concern or maybe that is frustration. His hand momentarily flexes by his side, trying to inch towards you.

“Well, that is no good. Our contract did not outline what would happen if we stopped collaborating. I suppose that the clause would argue that you would have to give me a reason for terminating our agreement.”

“I’m not terminating anything. I’ll go and participate in the exam. If I lose, one of the three of you will decide to keep me. If I win, I will be a housewarden. The contract is still valid … I just do not require anything more from you.”

“Is that so? Nothing at all?”

“No, I got all I needed from our contract.”

“Then perhaps I can offer you a meal at Mostro Lounge since our research is complete. We should celebrate the fruits of labor, and we can discuss what poison you will be using to win.”

Your breath hitches. Jade definitely notices because he sends that curious look at you again; you can finally identify it as genuine concern. You cannot help how open your emotions are. That was the first time he had talked about the upcoming summer exam in a positive way instead of slyly hinting at possible failure. Jade Leech thought you were going to win. Jade Leech thought you could become Pomefiore’s housewarden.

Instead of joy, you want to curl into a ball and cry. Your bottom lip trembles.

“N-No, I don’t want to do that.” And even though you and Jade share the next period together, you quicken up your pace momentarily. “Thank you for all your help, Leech.”

Jade finally commits to the move to grab your dominant wrist. Uncaring of your bandaged and maimed arm, he pulls you so your body spins to face him. His mismatched eyes did not collide with yours. Instead, he is focused strictly on the magic pen you had gripped in your hand, which was once hidden in your pocket.

“(Name), your pen.” You tear yourself from his grip so fast that Jade blinks in surprise.

Tiny droplets start to blossom like cherries on your wrist from where his fingers had dug in. That pain is expected – you are not gonna get out a predator’s grip without a few cuts. Hell, Jade could probably tear your wrist to ribbons without breaking a sweat. Your features crinkle like paper mache, inked and painted with hot shame.

The concern in his eyes churns your stomach into a ugly nest of snakes. Bottom lip trembling, you scrounge your brain to find a way to excuse yourself. Really, what can you say to excuse the prominent black that is blanketing itself over the sleeping purple of your magestone. Your lips still tremble anyways, but you shut down when the predator crowding above you throws cutting words at you. The pain from them is unexpected.

“I shouldn't have to remind one of the highest ranking alumni the inevitable future that comes with having a magic pen that looks like yours. You watched your housewarden’s overblot and kept this hidden. For someone with so much intelligence, you are acting foolish, Pufferfish.”

The nickname, usually light, stabs at you like a claymore into your chest. Pufferfish … a bothersome fish that blows up around danger, one of the stupidest fucking fishes in the sea! Teeth clip against each other in your frustration. Rounding, you press your palms on Jade’s shoulders and push him as hard as you can. Blood from your wrist starts to climb down your fingers and towards your pen’s handle.

Concern is switched with shock. You doubt anyone has had the guts to ever physically injure him, not that your shove did anything but send him a few steps back. Not wanting to let him get in any words, you shout, “Don’t come near me anymore, Leech! Don’t find me in Pomefoire; don’t even look in my direction during class. Our contract is void.”

You turn, shove your magic pen back in your pocket, and go to flee when – “On what grounds?”

Students flow around you but you feel as if the entire world has frozen at his question … at worse, his tone of voice. Refusing to turn around, you push your mouth into your non-dominant sleeve. You bet if you turned around there would not even be any anger on his face, just that sharp, still, statue-like smile that could tear apart anything.

“On the grounds that you just violated our contract. You implied that you wanted me to stop using magic but I need magic to pursue becoming a housewarden. That is acting as a roadblock to me becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“I suppose that it was outlined if you felt I was an impediment that our relationship would end. Benevolently, I would advise you to stop magic altogether. Very well. I thank you for our time together, Pufferfish.”

You wish you could be as graceful as Jade in the face of another person’s silly anger. Perhaps that is the divide that keeps you from your goal. Perhaps that is why you are only a student as a second year and Jade is a vice-housewarden.

“Whatever,” you mumble and rush to find a bathroom. The grease of blood in your hand is making your pen harder to hold onto. Slipping, slipping, slipping.

You had not even realized that magic grounded until you found yourself starting to slip from it. Solid ground underneath you has suddenly become sand, pulling itself from you like taffy and shifting in grainy waves around your soles. Fuck, you breathlessly realize that you are spilling into panic. The floor is pliant and vanishing from your reality. In a split decision, you take a turn towards the Hall of Mirrors instead of heading towards a bathroom.

Summoning bandages to wrap the wounds Jade has given you is an impossible feat. In your dorm, there are bandages along with thousands of other medicinal herbs and supplies. When you reach it, you hurl yourself into the Pomefiore mirror, gasping for breath as you just emerged from a dive in the Coral Sea.

Mentality is key. If you can occupy your mind with anything else but your overblot, perhaps you can finally push the slab of stone off your chest, the emotional peine forte et dure crushing your ribcage. You slam your open palm to your dorm door and rush inside.

Think of anything else, you beg your mind but you feel as if every single body has fragmented away from each other and placed them far away like out of reach planets. Sevens, think of anything else, you scream and your hip falls into the corner of your dresser. Focusing on the itch just makes it itchier. Focusing on an illness just prolongs the time you are sick.

The floorboards, count them, a satellite translator reaches out and you grab onto that thought.

One.

Two.

Three.

Your throat hugs your vocal cords. Individual bones embracing your breath and trying to smother you out.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

A knock at your door. Flailing at the sudden noise, your hip digs deeper into the dresser. A bitten back scream traps itself in your mouth. Your nails grip down the wood and you pant heavily onto the surface, panic rising back up now that your concentration is broken.

“Um, (Last Name)?”

Sevens, what awful timing –

When bolting through Pomefiore, you must have spilled past Epel Felmier. Fucking shit. He was a first year student that managed to pull a quarter of the strings for you to have that video of Vil’s overblot. He has requested from you a potion to strengthen tree roots and the fruit they produce. Well versed in botany, you agreed readily for that video. You gave him three vials and said to return for a larger dose of what had given him his desired effect. It was likely that he would be approaching you this week.

Just that remaining bit of Octavinelle in you, making deals to boast yourself up. You start seething at the vile thought. You want to entirely stamp Octavinelle out of your mind, incinerate them all into fish kabobs. Just as you try to picture the image to calm yourself, Epel Felmier knocks again.

“It’s been three weeks and all the test trials have gone well. I think I picked out which one I want. Could you open the door?”

Go away. Get the fuck away from me. You manage to force out, “Now’s not a good time, Felmier. Tomorrow okay?” Underneath your nails, strips of wood bury themselves as you drag your fingers down in a clawing lion grip. Wildly, your ring finger twitches with your shot nerves. You spear yourself harder on the desk to ground you.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go –

“Are you overblotting!”

Your heart stops cold in your arteries. Huh. The floorboards start to blur under your bulging eyes. Then the entire room blurs and spins. You open your mouth, to respond to Epel’s acquisition. Syrupy black starts raining from the cumulus cloud of watery blot in your open mouth. Huh. Are you overblotting? No, you do not think so. However, the dots of blot pounding down on your dresser tell a different story.

Maybe this is right. You would have been in Octavinelle if you did not push. You are as egotistical and troublesome as everyone says. You do not deserve to be the housewarden of a dorm that rejected you originally.

Your vision swims and you tilt with it. In a desperate effort, you go to grab the dresser’s edge to avoid falling. Glass breaks and the sound returns you to yourself.

“Are you okay? You sound pained.”

Oh, that is what he shouted. You force out one last time, “Busy now! Tomorrow!”

The pressure of your hyperventilation and hugging ligaments increases. You start to choke on your terror and quickly press your mouth into your sleeve. When the fit subsides, you look down to see your dresser is clean besides the nail marks. Luckily, you can register the sound of Epel Felmier walking away. But where had the sound of glass come from –

“No. No,” you lament sincerely.

This time you allow yourself to fall down. You reach out a hand, draw it back, and then reach out again. The Dark Mirror should have banished you. You are scum. You are not worthy of what you covet. Avoiding glass shards, you grab the tallest destroying angel and bring it to rest on your knees. Tremors rock your body as if you are nude in a snowstorm.

Doubling over, you mourn, “Jade. Jade Jade Jade. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Really, you should not be here. If you are found, it will surely be a mark on your already wobbling enrollment.

Breaking and entering anywhere in Night Raven College could lead to expulsion … but a majority of your time spent in NRC has been spent walking that fine line. Like an ostrich who has committed to burying itself underground, you commit yourself to this path no matter the consequences. One more risky choice is fine. Besides, no one would ever monitor the botanical gardens past midnight.

You sigh over your mortar and pestle. Dropping the tools, you actually do bury yourself. Into the comfort of your injured hands, you push your face deep into their embrace and groan. You hiss when sharp pangs of agony ripple up your back. A giant spider constructed from pain has spread its legs over your upper spine, embracing you. To be honest, everything is painful. As if to spite, your dominant arm has taken to burning and burning with no medicinal help getting it to calm. All this you could weather usually if – if only –

Sevens, are you going to start crying?

The last time you cried, you were eight. Since then, you had bottled up tears like they were a fatal toxicant that would ruin you. No, no, you cannot uncap that bottle until you are a housewarden.

Piercing your nails briefly into your forehead, you groan one last time. You had been working constantly for three days without breaks. Your memory about toxicology was brilliant compared to others but you still knew that even you were missing chunks and scraps of your knowledge. That is why it was written down, your mind whispers. Yes, that is why you had written and laminated note after note. To start again was weakening you bit by bit.

You pick up your tools again. The longer that you wallow, the longer you are not working. You start to stir the bumpy white powder when the front glass door of the botanical garden clicks open.

Jumping up, you grab your pen to – to fucking what? Teleport yourself? You glance down at the tiny, desperate eye of purple that is still breaching the surface of an otherwise prominent oil spill. Your magestone has one last spell in before you overblot. Are you really going to waste it? You glance up in the direction of the door, flora and herbage blocking it entirely from your sight.

You set your pen down. Maybe it was just an old building settling? You wait for something, a voice, footsteps, anything really. And it does come.

“Ya suuure this is where they are? I’m gettin real tired of all this walking.”

Huh? You know that voice.

“It is worth the look. If they are not in their bedroom or Pomefiore’s personal lab, this is the third place I elect to look.”

“And if they aren’t here?”

“Then, we will find a fourth location to look for them.” A loud, miffed groan responds to that.

Jade Leech and Floyd Leech, what are they doing here? You pass a glance to the candle burning on the desk. Perhaps you can snuff it out and hide. You can see the glow of their twin magic pens, using them as flashlights to navigate the botanical garden. Perhaps you really can hide if they are still unaware of you.

You puff up air in your mouth and make a move to blow out the candle. Yet, one last noise pricks your attention, a whimpered please, we’re sorry. Your eyes snap to look at the golden specks peeking through the shrubbery. No way.

Tiredness is curling around your mind, so you barely even feel how your legs begin to stumble towards the freckled light. Your body moves before your mind. You do not realize that your numb fingers have picked up your pen again. No way.

You push past the willowing leaves of plants and nudge poisonous flowers out of your path. Gradually, the shrubbery decreases in density and light stronger than your candle burns your eyes. You stumble and round past the last potted plant in your path. No way.

“Hey, look, it’s Pufferfishy! They were here, Jade!”

Floyd’s jovial tone is met with your anxious silence, gangly body hunched like you will fall over at any moment and face drawn into a Greek tragedy mask.

No way. No way. No way.

“Fufufu, it seems so. No need to seem so aghast, Pufferfish. We come bearing gifts.”

“Merry Christmas, Pufferfishy!!”

The morbid gifts the Leech twins are bestowing to you are Si and Am whose consciousnesses are kept unlidded by a very weak, thin thread. In matching fashion, a monolith of red is raining from their noses. Si looks like he has taken a fall cheek first into a mirror. Am, who seems unable to breath through his nose, has two of his bottom fangs missing. Their entire bodies are soaked wet, hair and ears pressed down by the weight of water. In their ripped clothes, there are random placed indents. Bite marks, you realize with horror. Jeweled blue eyes are feverishly avoiding looking at you.

And since you are unable to speak, Jade takes the opportunity, “found these two cats looking for a midnight swim. Quite unusual of their species. But Octavinelle will always have its doors open for any student.”

“(Name), we-we get it really. And we’re sorry. Please, please, just call off the twins and we’ll,” Si rambles at you.

His words are cut when Floyd — who is holding onto Si by his nightshirt collar — lifts him up and slams his face into the botanical garden’s cobblestone. There is a crunch like a log of uncooked pasta being snapped. Terrified, your hands and pen fly up to your mouth. When Si is lifted back up, his nose bridge is reshaped into a crescent.

“How rude. Quiet, hehehe, Pufferfishy and Jade are tryin to talk.”

At this, Jade and you finally lock eyes. Your terror and his rigid poise melt into each other. For a second, it feels you and Jade are sharing a pulse, trying to push your ideas at each other. Olive brown and yellow, so unnatural yet turning into your normal. You two stare and stare.

“L-Leech.”

“I gave that vial to you. So taking it from you is the same as stealing from me.”

“...”

“That is a great offense to me. My father always said that you keep what is yours close and if anyone breaches your hold, bite back. Things are no different here than they are in the Sea.”

“Please, get them out of here.”

“If I was wronged, I’d lash out with a torrent of unmitigated verbal abuse to break them down mentally, then bind them and drag them beneath water. Which I have done. For you. Because you and I were betrayed.”

“Please, I’m on the verge of overblotting.”

“No. You are going to bite back, even if it means you overblot. Right this.”

Your pulsing eyes finally slide away from Jade’s stare. They shuffle down but only to the tips of Si and Am’s lowered, wet heads before you get scared and move your gaze back into the comfort of Jade’s eyes. If you give them one more look, you are sure to overblot.

It feels like you are standing on a raised building, miles and miles above the ground. The platform is ice. If you infect your eyes with one wrong image or infect your mind with one wrong worry, you will slip.

You have enough common sense to know pleading with Floyd is a waste of breath. Face knit with pain, you beg, “I’ll never ask anything of you again. No contract. No advice. No favors or gifts. Just please leave with them.”

“Your arm.”

Your features’ wrinkles and creases deepen with confusion.

“Your arm is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I almost puked looking at your grotesque flesh. Compared to the nightmare that is growing up in the Coral Sea, your arm is more unsightly than anything I’ve ever seen. Looking at it made me sick.”

You shake your head wildly back and forth. “Sevens, Leech, does it look like I fucking care? Get them out of here!”

As anger blooms on your face, Jade mimics that expression. As if to spite you, the eel-mer uses his strength to pick up Am by his collar and toss him into your feet. You ignore his pained groans like someone ignoring a bothersome, untrained dog pawing at their heels. “(Name), help.” A shiver runs up your spine.

“Your arm is your dedication to becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. Do you think that is a person worthy of becoming housewarden?”

“I can still become Pomefiore’s housewarden! I know more about poison than anyone else in this school.”

“They stole from you. What I had given you as a –”

“I was fine before you came into my life!”

Anger spills off Jade’s face, sobering up.

Your chin is shuddering rapidly. Despite the heaving of your chest, you refuse to cry. You lock your trembling lips together and plead at Jade with damp eyes, officially done talking.

His gloves fingers slowly unfurl from the tightened stones of frustration they once were. He casts a judgmental look at both Si and Am. You never even knew Jade could look so vexed before, as if things were out of his control. His eyes gleam with the hot fire in them.

“Perhaps, you are right. Perhaps,” Jade looks at his brother and kills his train of thought. Mind unclogged from wrath, he turns right back into the mastermind Hunt dubbed him as. “Pufferfish, if you can’t become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then what is left for you?”

Huh?

“Can you really find a reason to keep going on if you don’t win this upcoming summer exam?”

Then, like an explosion, the thought strikes you. A deep breath flares through you. Previous hesitation to avoid seeing Si and Am is gone. Your voice is meek and clogged with mucus. “N-No.”

The thought motivates you to brandish your pen, tremors reducing. You hold it horizontal to the front of your chest, a violet cosmic spell turning and rotating around the gem stone. In what should be clear lilac and gray, black blot congeals like a twisted lava lamp, cracked open and slipping all over you. A nebulous disaster twisting over your ribs and heart.

“No. I can’t.”

When you release the accumulating spell and your vision goes white, you regret nothing about overblotting.

Because you would rather die than not be Pomefiore’s housewarden. And since that future has become impossible through Si and Am’s efforts, you can go all out and die. Right here. Right now.

Death is rather peaceful too, you come to realize. It feels like a warm embrace, sentimentally holding you tight and brushing a hand over your face. And for some reason, it speaks too. From the white: “Hey, you on the other side, give me back my Pufferfish.”

At the nickname, you jolt alive.

Glass and vines are the first thing you see but it is void compared to the blot in your mouth that you have to spit out. Ebony egg yolks glide down your chin. With vengeance, you throw yourself on your shoulder so as to not choke on the substance. Someone has their hand around your dominant arm and you think your spine is resting on their leg. You want to check but — but, more sludge comes up and blankets the cobblestone. Your entire body rattles with the force as you take one shuddering breath and then puke some more.

“Good, clear your throat.”

Listening to this strange voice, you puke for a fourth time. When you have finally stabilized yourself, you fall back into Death’s embrace with a groan. When Death greets you with his two mismatched eyes, you frown.

“J-Jade?”

“Here I save your life and you don’t even seem happy to see me.” His lips mimic your frown with a bit more dramatism.

“Because,” you hack, fake anger on your tongue “, because I’m racking up quite a debt with you. Azul will have me on a leash by third year.”

“Ideally, I will be the one holding the leash.” He says, tenderly swiping a bit of blot off your chin.

“Shut up,” you hiss, not in the mood for his jokes. Tired bones and bruised skin leans deeper into Jade’s embrace. He does not make light of it, at least. You were expecting teasing piled onto teasing. “Si and Am?”

He cups a hand to block your wandering eyes and starts to faintly smile. “Thoroughly disbanded for the time being. As always, you were quite methodical in ensuring your goal. Though, this path is quite atypical for applying as Pomefoire’s housewarden.”

You chuckle at that before a sharp pain in your arm breaks your mirth. Erratically, your middle finger twitches and you wonder if you severed a nerve in your arm. Your studying is interrupted when Jade brings a hand up and down the length of your arm. His next words are not mocking or duplicitous.

“I,” his words pause heavy in his throat. “I did not mean what I said about your arm earlier. I don’t find it —“

“It’s alright,” you interrupt. “I’ll never be ashamed of it, no matter what anyone says.” Hating how Jade looks a bit troubled, you try to revive the previous atmosphere. “Plus, your opinion doesn’t matter to me that much, Leech. Don’t flatter yourself.”

The lie makes the eel-mer regain his usual tone, “yet who asked who for their opinions on poison?”

“I asked to use your intellect, nothing more.”

“So I truly am just a pawn to you. How cruel.”

It seems like you two could go on forever in your banter, which is why Floyd — whose irritable disposition at being thoroughly ignored has been snowballing — decides enough is enough.

“Pufferfishy was so cool when overblotting, right Jaido?” The sudden voice makes you jolt in Jade’s arms until a new train of thought washes over you. Your overblot. “Almost knocked one of my teeth loose, Puffy~ Would’ve squeezed you for that one.”

Your overblot. Your overblot! What did you look like? What had you said? Did you cut an impressive enough visage to match with Schoenheit? You stare at Floyd. Curiosity pushes like spiders trying to crawl out your mouth. “Wh-what did I look like?”

“You looked —“ like an angel.

“Ya had this big halo over your head. All sticky and inky. Your clothes were all drapey and purple. Patterns all up your arms.” Enraptured and delighted, you listen as Floyd plots out each part of your overblot to you, using his own body as an indicator. “And this totally radioactive spike as your pen!” You feel like you are on cloud nine.

“Was it? Was it more impressive than you know who?”

“I say you have both Azul and Vil beat for most imposing overblot.”

“Ya, Azul was all cryin’ and whiny. You were all, agh I’ll burn out your insides! You filth!” Floyd breaks off into giggles. “Pufferfishy has always been interesting since Orientation. Course your overblot is gonna be super cool.”

You preen at their words. Yet, in the aftermath of the praise, you start to come down from that buzzing high. “Wait. Wait, I can’t have this get out.” It could potentially disqualify you from running in the exams for housewarden.

“Don’t worry, I will have Azul write up an NDA tomorrow to be signed by all of us, Si and Am included. Besides a few damages that can be magiced away, you are in clear for continuing to work towards your goal.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. It is troublesome to sign any confidentiality agreement with Ashengrotto but this has slowly become your new normal. In your first year, you would have combatively against this relationship you have built with the Octavinelle dorm. Hesitantly, you go to leave Jade’s arms when —

“Jade, holy Seven! Your forehead.” You do not know how your eyes slide over it before. In an arch over Jade’s right eyebrow is a deep laceration. It is impressive in depth because a constant river of red is curling down his face in the same way the black strand on the left of his face does.

“It’s only a scratch. As Floyd said, you were quite vengeful.”

“That’s not a scratch. I know wounds; that’s going to need stitches.”

“Oh my, will it really? How do you plan to make it up to me? Such a deep wound; I will surely need a nurse to take care of me.”

“Ugh, be serious.” You start pressing your sleeve to stop the flow.

“But I am being serious, Pufferfish. To be honest, I feel my vision in my right eye is subpar now.”

“It’ll be subpar when I stick my finger in it, Leech.”

“Back to using my surname, are we? How tragic. I’ll surely miss that stutter you had calling out my first name.”

“Leech, Leech, Leech.”

In the background, Floyd Leech rolls his own uninjured eyes, annoyed at how your banter has started up again. Sevens, get a room, he thinks.

Rationally, you know that you no longer have even a drop of blot left sitting inside either yourself or your magestone but —

“How do I look? Do you think they score on outfits too? What am I saying; this is professor Crewel, that probably is an unspoken criteria that I was supposed to meet … This buttoned up has a bleach stain on sleeve, fuck. Leech, swap shirts with me.”

But you feel like you are choking on that syrupy black substance once again.

Jade chuckles at your evident panic. Always an open book aren’t you? He tightly grips your wrists when you leap at him to unbutton his shirt and smiles, enjoying your distress. “I’m terribly afraid it’s not the right color of lilac to represent Pomefiore. Plus, I’m much bigger than you.”

“I can just tuck the extra into my slacks,” you bargain. Your hands rattle fruitlessly in his cuffing grip. Now that he says that … you start to worry if the wrong shade of violet could make Crewel sicker than a bleach stain. You feel like you are choking down on a chunky milkshake of blot.

“Ugh.” Uncaring of his reaction, you start to fall into Jade Leech. Forehead connecting to sternum, you stay there as he holds your wrists halfway above your head. Since he held you after your overblot, physical contact between you two was oddly becoming normal. And this entire thing does feel like a second overblot. “I feel worse than ever.”

“Now, I’m quite positive that you have felt worse.”

“Nope, this is the worst.”

“In only a couple minutes, you will go out there and choke. Just imagine it.”

“Die, Leech.” You stomp on his Oxfords. You won’t injure him but you still hope to dirty his expensive footwear.

For the exam, they have a system of how people walk in. First, every Pomefiore student participating will stand outside. Then one by one, they are moved into a small room behind the auditorium, waiting until their name is called, and move onto the stage. Sometimes, Pomefiore students brought along support. After the betrayal from Si and Am, the role unfortunately fell to Jade Leech. It is just you and him in the room; same as it has always been under contract.

You squirm so you can rest your cheek into his chest, still locked by his grip on your wrists. “I’m gonna be so sick right now.”

An overblot was the catalyst of all negative emotions. You misjudged that it would dry you out of all insecurities. The grip of the Evil Queen holding you by the ribs until all the black liquid sponges out from black rivulets in your pores. Turns out you still have a bottomless cocktail of worry and stress left.

Jade was on the other end of the spectrum. He was quite assured that you would be winning. It had been a foreseeable outcome before you even asked to make the contract. When Azul and him schemed about their upcoming third year, you were substituted into the role of Pomefiore’s housewarden as naturally as Silver was substituted into the role of Diasomnia’s housewarden. All hypothetical yet assured. All calculated by some of the sharpest minds in Night Raven College to come to fruition.

Jade looks down at you, face on his shirt. How cute, your face even has that puffing expression when you worry yourself to the verge of puking. He smiles at you. It is unseen and genuine, far from odious.

“You have always been so interesting, (Name).”

Flee, your mind screams at you. You make a move to stumble backwards but you have forgotten that you are still in a bind, Jade’s slippery hands around your wrists. That odious, scheming grin returns to mask over his affection.

Jade leans in close, suffocating you, dangerous teeth gleaming. So close that the scent of mint toothpaste spills into your nose. Gleefully, he holds your locked arms out like he is pulling the wings of a butterfly to pin to a board.

“No, interesting is an understatement. You are magnetizing like a flame. Like watching someone burn alive.

“On Orientation, it was certainly amusing to be around humans. A new experience for me, Floyd, and Azul as mermen. But it grew old. Got repetitive, hearing your soul is Savanaclaw, your soul is Ignihyde, your soul is Octavinelle. You.” His eyes shine like a lightning flash, yellow painting his eyelashes. “You were like an explosion of fire, so much more powerful than any brief glimmer of light. I haven’t been able to look away since then.” And then, he lets you go.

With the force of yourself and what you suspect is also Jade pushing you away, you fumble awkwardly in the air for a bit. What stops you from cracking your head open is the single table in the room. Tailbone colliding, you desperately grip the surface behind you for stability. Ouch!

You look down at your hand. A bead of blood blooms on your index finger like a poisonous mistletoe berry. Damn, is the glass of your project at least still intact? Fretful, you go to examine the table when Jade pulls you back in by the wrist.

(It is odd. Since collaborating with the eel-mer, peace has been as rare and brief as a shooting star due to it. He has stressed you beyond belief. He has left you grappling for the true intentions of his words. Where Si and Am tricked you, it is odd that the one who openly speaks of your failures and challenges you has been more genuine to you than anyone else.)

Truthfully, you want to glare at him but you just stare. Those nocuous words leave you with a tingling sensation through your veins. Something warm and intoxicating, to be regarded as an image worth viewing. You watch as Jade lifts your bloodied, pricked finger to his lips. Pushes his tongue out and laps up the berry dot.

Oh.

“Leech?”

Divus Crewel calls your name.

You glare, metaphorical spikes flaring around your skin. Leave it to Jade Leech to calculate the perfect moment to confess yet not confess at all. Leave it to him to say words that you have to filter through a sieve to reveal the meaning. What a sly bastard, you muses.

“What are you standing around here for? Everything you’ve worked for is waiting for you.”

Funny of him to say that when he is still gripping your wrist.

“We’re talking about this later.”

“In the botanical gardens? Or perhaps Pomefiore’s laboratory? Will you finally concede and enter Mostro Longue?”

“Don’t push it. I’d never pay for those overpriced drinks.”

“Who said I’d let you pay?” He finally gives you back your hand.

“Hmph.”

You rotate quickly on your heel. From the table, you grab your project. Thank the Seven that is still intact despite the pressure your hand had placed on it before. The glass pufferfish cradled in your hand shines. Inside the jade green glass, the lethal poison sits waiting. From the pursed lips of the fish, you will take the poison and serve it to a dragon. Your heart pounds excitedly in your chest. There is one last loose end though – Turning to Jade, you question, “If I lose, did you three decide who would have me?” You have been dying to hear this.

“Yes, we all picked from the three things you outlined in the contract.”

“You’re splitting them up?”

“Yes. Azul will take your magic. Floyd is arranged to ransack your room, taking all your possessions. And I, I will be the receiver of your life and freedom.”

A snake manifests in your stomach, lashing at that sentence. You gulp, flustered at the venom in his tone. “How sad you will never have that,” you tease.

“I suppose that you should go out there and win.”

“I suppose I just might.”

You two share something warm in your mimicking smiles. And before Divus Crewel can call your name again, you rush out to the auditorium.

Glancing up from your cosmetic mirror, you watch Floyd sleep.

You never thought you would see a body look like that, limbs angular and disfigured. Bones rotated as if they had suffered a fall from a great height. Your knowledge on eel anatomy was limited. Perhaps, it was eel-mer flexibility that got him to comfortably sleep with his hand twisted around his back and touching his ankle?

“Do you sleep like that too or are acrobatics just Floyd’s specialities?”

The other eel-mer perks up at your voice. Another thing you learned about eels was their habit to bite. Jade stops sinking his teeth into your hip to answer, “A mixture of both. Though, I can assure that I am not as unruly to sleep next to, if you ever are hoping to find out.”

You take the pointed end of your makeup brush and dig it into his temple. As he whines of all dreadful things about your cruelty, you continue applying your blush. Whining from him would have unnerved you months ago.

To be honest, a lot of things you have been adapting to about Jade Leech were once very surprising. The whining, the biting, the clinging. You wished Floyd’s future significant other the best because the clinging (whether skin to skin or being shadowed constantly) was horrendous with Jade. Red powder brightens your cheeks. You were even surprised that the meticulously punctual Jade hated getting out of bed.

“You know, you’re going to be late to Orientation if you keep nuzzling into me all morning. Floyd is acceptable. You are the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle. You cannot neglect your first years.”

“And you are the housewarden of Pomefiore, but who’s lingering in who’s dorm now, hm?”

Your body hums lightly at the pleasant reminder. You almost want to beg him to say it again and again till his tongue falls out. Instead, you purposely make a lot of noise with your makeup tools as you drop the blush on the nightstand and grab your lipsticks. “See, but I’m up and preparing for the day. And you are not.”

Jade makes no response and goes back to gnawing on the slip of skin revealed between underwear and tank-top.

You roll your eyes as you start to outline your lip shape in a deep brown. You do admit that you will miss him when he eventually decides to get up for the morning. The position you have is nice: you, sitting on the edge of his bed, applying makeup, as he wraps his arms around your waist, body still tucked under the sheets.

“You truly are one bothersome eel, Jade.”

You apply the last bit of clear lipstick from a jeweled black tube. Rotating one nude thigh on the bed, you maneuver Jade so his head is in your lap.

“Spending all morning in bed, hiding Dire Crowley’s letter to the housewardens so Azul has to rush his own preparations, texting me this morning, oh (Name) please there’s an emergency at our dorm, please come. Didn’t know I was dating such a villain.”

“You knew,” Jade smiles up at you.

“… Yeah, I knew.” You lean down to give him a kiss which quickly escalates into more. Who can blame the two of you though, after a long separation on summer break?

Eel blood is poisonous. It is a biological fact that molds him to an image of worship in your hands. It reminds you of all you two struggled through – the first person you had opened up to and let him inject you with a thing as deadly as love. You gently cup his face, a stroking thumb on his cheek, and kiss each other like it will be your last kiss. All kisses with him were like that, infinitely finite.

Blood floods into the kiss. He does not even wilt when you bite down hard on his tongue. You feel a droplet break from the limited space between you and wipe it away with your thumb. He takes his own thumb, nuzzling it over the skin of your neck. You poison him; he poisons you.

You pull away, pupils blown, with a new lip tint.

“He-Here,” you say. Most of your purple lipstick has rubbed off onto Jade’s smug face. The red-violet mix is an intoxicating look on him. When he smiles with his full teeth, your stomach stirs at the blood pooling between enamels.

Breathlessly, you hand him a jeweled white lipstick tube. He pecks two quick kisses on your lips, looking like the cat who got the cream. “The top layer of my lipstick is poisonous. Apply this before your lips start feeling numb or you’ll lose the ability to talk for two days.” Your words do not even reduce the joy he feels having you in his arms.

“Oh dear, it sounds like you want that to happen to poor me.”

“I’m handing you the antidote, aren’t I?”

“Pomefiore’s housewarden is so cruel~” His faux look of sadness in slanted eyebrows and pouted lips is almost painfully predictable now. Still, he goes to take it and — oh, this is a bit unpredictable of him.

Uncapping the lip balm, he runs it over the top and bottom of your lip. Awestruck, you watch his calculating face. He caps it again and wastes no time pulling you into more sloppy kisses.

“Jade,” you pant. He hums underneath you, loving how his wandering claws are ruining your once tame hair, loving how you say his first name. “You definitely got enough of the antidote.”

He starts whining again! You laugh as you move your thigh off the bed and return to going over your makeup.

Shortly after, Jade falls into a silence. You start checking out each minuscule detail on your makeup. Symmetry no matter how you angle your face is key, Vil once said. Vanity is not a main concern of yours but your first appearance as housewarden is vital. The housewarden whose poison killed a dragon in six days. When they eventually put you in the textbooks, it would be best not to look sloppy. Perhaps, you can even convince them to do an article on your arm. Jade had been trying to convince you to publicize it more. Though the bandages were on today, who's to say they have to be on tomorrow. Hell you can —

“About your overblot…”

Your train of thought hops off the track and is engulfed in one giant flame.

You hate the way your body betrays you. Posture leaps up into a straight line. Jade definitely feels the way your spine becomes tense at his words. You know he can feel it as his forehead is pressed to the center of your back now.

After everything, you two had swept in under the rug. Decreeing it as a non-disclosable talking point. You wonder why he is breaching contract today of all days. Did the sadist want you overblot again on Orientation, thinking about the past?

You stay silent, hoping he will drop it.

“You shouted … shouted that you would be nothing if you weren’t Pomefiore’s housewarden. I just wanted to let you know before it all starts, that you’re everything to me. Housewarden or not.”

Your body is treasonous. It should be exiled and thrown out of the kingdom of your mind. You wish you could strip yourself of it because it is betraying you again. And you know Jade can feel the traitorous actions of your body, as your spine curls and your shoulders start to shake hysterically with your cries.

Hiding your emotions has never been a strong trait of yours.

As each muscle convulses and shakes, Jade elects to press a few more kisses on the ridges of your vertebrates.

“… Fuck you,” you gasp out wetly. “Now, I have to redo this stupid makeup.” Violet glitter leaks from your eyes.

Knowing what you truly mean, Jade smiles and presses a long-lasting, antidote-coated kiss on your sobbing skin.

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