I had barely gotten through my second chapstick tube and the last lingering hint of cherry flavor when I made it back to the apartment. The door hadn’t even clicked shut before Elly’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

  “There he is,” she drawled, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed and her expression somewhere between unimpressed and mildly haunted. “The Alterkind Tongue Whisperer. The Fae-Frenching Menace. Do I need to Lysol your lips?”

  I groaned, dropping onto the couch. “You’re not allowed to talk to me about lips after that kiss.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “The one I gave you was for science. You, on the other hand, decided to start a community outreach program with your mouth.”

  “Don’t slut-shame me. I’m a magical humanitarian.”

  Elly made a noise like she’d swallowed a lemon. “You kissed a Dopplegeist in public, Daniel. In public. Do you even know what they are?”

  “I do now,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “They had at least five faces. I think one of them was a math teacher.”

  Elly shook her head and joined me on the couch, curling one leg underneath her. “I told you we were trying to lay low. But no. You had to go and make a statement.” She mimed exaggerated air quotes. “‘Grand entrance.’”

  “Okay, in my defense,” I said, holding up both hands, “I was nervous, mildly drunk, and apparently kissed into a psychic feedback loop.”

  “You kissed into local fame,” she shot back. “You’re trending on the fae version of reddit.”

  “Wait, there’s a fae reddit?”

  “It’s called PixNet actually,” she said, pausing. “And on there is a supernatural gossip chain. You just put a billboard on it, or your lips did anyway.” She leaned her head against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded. “They’re calling you The Null Prince.”

  I slumped deeper into the cushions. “I hate that.”

  “Oh, I know.” She smirked. “It’s glorious.”

  I’d already gotten three voicemails from strangers asking if I “did commissions.” One even offered exposure and pizza. The exposure part scared me more. My inbox was a disaster: half thirsty DMs, half warnings from other nulls telling me I’d painted a target on my face. Somewhere out there, a spreadsheet existed ranking supernatural kissers, and I had apparently speed-run my way into the top ten.

  “Do you know what it’s like to get recognized at a gas station by a dryad in yoga pants?” I asked.

  “That sentence alone gave me psychic heartburn,” Elly muttered.

  For a while, the only sound between us was the hum of the refrigerator and the soft whoosh of wind outside the apartment window. It was a strange comfort, this silence. The kind that only happened with people you trusted.

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  My apartment still smelled faintly of ozone and cheap incense from when Elly had “warded” the place last week. The faint shimmer of runes pulsed around the doorframe like tired Christmas lights. Outside, someone was arguing with a food-delivery sprite that refused to give change. Normal life kept trying to exist between the cracks, stubborn and ridiculous.

  My work phone, still on silent from earlier, buzzed on the coffee table—Greg’s name glowing like an omen. I didn’t answer. I could already picture his face: protein-bar crumbs on his tie, eyes narrowing as he asked why half the office’s customer-support queue suddenly contained heart emojis. Apparently, when a Dopplegeist records a kiss, it goes viral everywhere, including the mortal net. Great. HR was probably drafting a “No Public Smooching Magical Entities” policy as we spoke.

  After a few minutes, Elly nudged me with her foot. “So how do you actually feel about it?”

  I blinked. “About what?”

  “This.” She gestured vaguely, encompassing the couch, the room, the entire supernatural disaster that had become my life. “You being... public. Known. Kissable.”

  I thought about it.

  About the line of monsters. The Dopplegeist’s soft thank-you. The weight of being seen by a world I didn’t understand, and how terrifying and strangely thrilling that was.

  “I feel like I’m falling down a flight of stairs,” I admitted. “But I’ve fallen down enough to know that, eventually, you hit the bottom. Or maybe you learn to land on your feet.”

  Elly was quiet, her fingers absently brushing the edge of the cushion between us. “It’s not a bad analogy,” she said. “Except some staircases never end.”

  “That’s bleak,” I said. “Even for you.”

  “I’m just saying, this thing—this attention? It doesn’t go away. The more you use your abilities, the more visible you become. And visibility invites power. Which invites enemies. And...”

  She trailed off, her voice quieter than before.

  “And?” I prompted.

  She looked at me then—really looked at me. Her star-scarred eyes, brilliant gold and endlessly tired. “And I don’t want to watch you get swallowed by it.”

  I swallowed. My throat suddenly felt tight.

  We were quiet again. Not uncomfortable. Just... sitting in the space between words.

  Then, to lighten the mood, I bumped her shoulder. “You jealous?”

  “Of who?” she snorted. “The Dopplegeist? Please. I’ve seen what happens to people who sleep with them. They turn into Kafka short stories.”

  I grinned. “So not jealous, then.”

  Elly hesitated just a beat too long before answering. “Maybe just a little grossed out. And a little... concerned.”

  I gave her a sideways look. “For me?”

  “For everyone else,” she said dryly. “You’ve got a weaponized mouth now. You should be licensed.”

  I laughed, but it felt weirdly good. Elly wasn’t the kind of person who let herself care easily. So, when she did, even in her prickly, sharp-edged way, it meant something.

  After another pause, she nudged me again. “So… what’s the plan now, Your Royal Tongueness?”

  I sighed at the endless jokes my new side hustle would create. “I have to meet Sélis again. Lily wants me to get a feel for their place in the community. She says they’re a ‘sentient culture node.’”

  “That sounds fake.”

  “It probably is.”

  She stood, stretching, then walked to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. “Well, be careful,” she said, not quite looking at me. “You’re in it now, Daniel. Don’t lose yourself to it.”

  As she turned away, I watched the glint of her ears catch the light, still sharp and uncovered, still vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before our kiss.

  “I won’t,” I said softly. “Not if you keep pulling me back.”

  She paused, her back to me. “Then I guess I better stick around.”

  She disappeared into the kitchenette, the sound of running water and the click of her gloves grounding me. I leaned back, staring at the faint scorch mark on the ceiling from the last time magic misfired in here. Everything was absurd and dangerous and somehow… good. The world kept trying to eat us, and yet here we were—still cracking jokes, still showing up.

  I figured that counted as progress.