Chapter 24.3: Where is My Home, Truly?

  Dante woke up to soft meows and a wet, rough tongue licking his cheek. His head felt like it was chock-full of sand. He sucked in a lungful of air and detected the slightest hint of spiced vanilla cologne -- and he bolted upright.

  Nova trilled and strolled towards the curtains. It gently nudged the feet that were peeking out from underneath. Dante smacked away the curtains to see Felix huddled in a corner, asleep. All colour had drained from his lips, and he was hugging himself tightly. Sweat had soaked through his clothes and was smeared all over the wall he leaned against.

  Dante reached out with his ungloved hand. He approached Felix as if he were carrying a deadly contagion. Even though he did not reach Felix’s forehead, he could feel the intense heat emanating from his body.

  In steadfast heart, with resolute embrace, let doubt and fear no longer hold their sway.

  The refrain of the Sacrificial Vow came back to Dante. Against his will, he recalled that those who made the vow must have had absolute faith in themselves that they could honour their word. Within these brands were literal fragments of the Regalia used to forge the contract. They would continuously thirst for blood unless suppressed with resolution and certainty.

  Dante withdrew his hand. Nova rubbed its head against Felix’s leg, but he did not come around.

  Dante pulled out a futon from his storeroom and unrolled it in the living room. Somehow, he managed to drag Felix out of the bedroom and lay him on top of it.

  The next thing he tried to do was haul the futon with Felix asleep on it out of the front gate of his house.

  Felix had no right.

  Shiro was a traitor.

  And he hated them both equally.

  His Regalia tried to shock him into submission, but he marched through it. Just as he was about to make it out of the door, someone called out to him. “Shuai Ge?”

  Auntie Chen was at the door, staring inside. “What are you doing?” she asked as her eyes darted between Felix and him. “Wah! Your friend is so pale!”

  He’s not my friend, nosy parker, Dante wanted to say, but his Regalia zapped him while Auntie Chen was busy ogling Felix.

  “I wanted to give you some porridge because I cooked too much of it,” Auntie Chen said. “But it looks like your friend needs it more. Actually hor, I have never seen you have visitors over. Why is he lying on such a thin mattress?”

  “I will take care of him,” Dante said monotonously. “Thank you for the porridge.”

  He took the thermos and ushered Auntie Chen away from his doorstep. It took great insistence before she backed down. “Look at this mess you have gotten me into!” he said to no one in particular as he slammed the thermos down on the kitchen counter.

  Dante suddenly remembered the white pouch that Felix had tried to give him. He marched to his room and pinched it off the floor. The silk ripped under the force of his pull, the drawstring snapping open. Whatever lay inside tumbled across the floor.

  Two rings had fallen out. They were black and red, handcrafted to look like his Regalia.

  “No way,” Dante muttered as he stared at them. “It’s not possible.”

  A crunch escaped between his clenched fists. He opened his hand. There was a note. He stared at the words, understanding them individually but not as a sentence. One moment, he stood as still as a statue. Next, he marched towards the fallen rings.

  His Regalia snatched the rings up before he could stomp on them. It forcefully opened his right hand and jammed them down his fingers. Dante tried to rip them off, but his Regalia had other plans. It wrapped him up in a cocoon. He could only writhe on the floor helplessly.

  "I'm your master! Your master!" Dante repeated himself over and over until his voice grew hoarse. He resisted until his bodily needs became unbearable.

  The Regalia only caved when he swore from the bottom of his heart that he would not take off the rings.

  ***

  Felix stayed over for four days, but his recovery showed little improvement.

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  Dante watched Felix from the living room, only blinking when the edges of his eyes grew terribly dry. He had to give up his bed for that idiot. There was no way he could sleep on the futon because it would only invite more questions. As for food, Auntie Chen cooked for two, sending it up every day. It was like clockwork: the food, the questions and the staring. He had to pretend to be nice and told her to leave the food outside to ‘avoid disturbing Felix’.

  Felix hardly had any strength to feed himself. He mostly stayed asleep but would often drift in and out of consciousness to mumble something. Dante tried to make his Regalia feed him so that he could maintain distance, but it refused.

  Left without a choice, Dante bought a hazmat suit. To change his clothes and wipe him down, albeit grudgingly, he bought the best gas respirator out there. The cynic in him grew more muted as he noticed that the wounds were as fresh as ever.

  On this particular day, Auntie Chen made congee. Dante unwillingly scooped a spoonful and cooled it with a handheld fan. He prodded the edge of the spoon against Felix’s lips, which parted slightly.

  “Dan–” Felix muttered, but was interrupted as Dante shoved the spoon in his mouth.

  Dante repeated this until Felix gently pushed away the spoon with the back of his hand. “W-wait… My pants… The one I was wearing…”

  “What about them?” Dante asked.

  “Give…”

  Dante rolled his eyes. With a pair of tongs, he fished Felix’s pants from the laundry basket and handed them over. Felix rummaged around the pockets a little. There was a jingle as he produced a bunch of keys. “Y-you left them at Shiro’s,” he said simply. “That’s h-how…”

  Felix trailed off, too weak to speak. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “Don’t… blame him,” he ploughed on with his stupid speech. “I forced… him.”

  Dante pressed a hand against Felix’s forehead, and Felix slumped forward, asleep. The keys were hung up, not thrown away. It was easier to wash away the grime of traitors from metal.

  The next day, during feeding time, Dante uttered three short sentences, “I will take Ace under my wing. We will start the day after tomorrow. On many conditions.”

  Felix was half awake during the declaration. Dante’s smouldering doubts about whether he had heard it were extinguished when Felix’s condition turned for the better in a matter of hours. By dinner, Felix was awake and sitting up in bed.

  “I was wondering if being fed by an astronaut was just a dream of mine,” Felix said as he scanned Dante’s attire. “What’s with the suit?”

  “You are dirty, and you smell awful."

  Felix lifted his arm and sniffed himself. “I guess you are right,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  “Shower now. Eat later in the dining room.” Dante stalked out of the room. He could finally do away with the respirator.

  For the first time in ten long years, they ate under the same skies, albeit on opposite ends of the table.

  “About Ace,” Felix started, setting down his spoon. “Did you mean what you said?"

  “Many conditions," Dante reiterated.

  “That’s good! That’s great!” Felix exclaimed. “Just state them and I’ll arrange everything for you.”

  Dante merely grunted before unloading a barrage of conditions.

  No unnecessary visits.

  No interference.

  Not a peep of the Truth.

  Every phantom exorcised would have to be attributed to Felix.

  A test would be arranged to re-evaluate his Rank.

  He would only train him for a stipulated amount of time, after which he would cut off all contact. To this, Felix asked, “Really? That extreme?”

  “All or nothing,” Dante replied. “Terms are subject to change without prior notice. You can leave when you are done.”

  “Alright.” Felix wolfed down his bun and quickly got to his feet. “I will be heading back to make the necessary preparations.”

  “Good. Get out of my sight. Your shoes are by the door.”

  “Uhm… My left boot is gone,” Felix pointed out almost immediately.

  That’s not right, Dante thought. His attention shifted to Nova, who was preening itself nonchalantly next to his feet. There was no way it could have dragged a boot larger than itself.

  “I do not see how that is my problem,” Dante replied to Felix.

  “Hey! You took them off for me!”

  “I do not care. You can walk back to the Sanctum like that.”

  And so Felix finally went on his way, missing a boot.

  Dante practically leapt out of his chair and gathered his cleaning supplies. The respirator snapped around his mouth with a thwack, and he got to work. He had to strip his home of Felix’s presence: smell, hair, cells and all. The first item on the list was cleaning his mattress. But to his dismay, Nova got there first. It rolled enthusiastically about in the spot where Felix had slept. Somehow, it had managed to pull out two corners of the fitted bedsheets as well. Dante pounced on it, trying to grab it, but it leapt out of the way. His Regalia acted up once more as it tore off his respirator while he was still on all fours.

  “Mew!” Nova let out a loud meow as the bedsheets snapped away from their position. A whiff of Felix’s odour hit Dante before he could hold his breath.

  A wave of exhaustion crashed over Dante. The toll of sleeping on the couch muscled its way through Dante’s resistance against sleep. Must clean! Must clean! Dante thought as he tried to clear his head by shaking it vigorously.

  Alas, the intoxicating blend of Felix’s sweat mixed with a hint of spice and vanilla proved too much for Dante to bear. It was a peculiar phenomenon, an unacceptable vulnerability that Dante found hard to swallow as his eyelids shuttered.

  Dante fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  And he awoke feeling refreshed for once.

  hor' is typically used as a small emphasis at the end of a phrase or sentence. That's Singlish for you.