I spotted Sir Dominic curled up against the wall, his head hanging between his knees. His shoulders trembled beneath the flickering torchlight.

  Two of his brothers-in-arms had fallen in the battle. The six guards were now four—they were men who had mentored him his entire life.

  I stood beside him and reached out, hand hovering uncertainly before resting on his shoulder. I wanted him to remember the lives they'd led, the families now safe because of their sacrifice, and the legacy still left for him to carry forward.

  His stony face cracked, and he buried his face in my bosom, sobbing. I held him without words, letting him grieve.

  When I returned, Evelyn and Seraphine had already left to resume their patrol. Only Rocher remained, standing stiffly, lips pressed into a straight line.

  "Uh, Cire. Do you always... comfort people like that?"

  I shrugged. "It's how I've always comforted Lumiere. If it worked for her, I figure it'll work for anyone else. Why? Is it weird?"

  He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. "No... it's just that I thought—never mind."

  He huffed and pouted. I really couldn't understand him.

  Still, I couldn't help but think he looked very cute just then.

  The two of us reyed my conjecture to Count Greymane, who listened with a dry chuckle.

  "If the demons have truly given up, that would be for the best. What leads you to that conclusion?"

  "I encountered one of the mer-beasts on my way here. It was frightening all the same, but... its behavior was closer to an animal's than a soldier's."

  It was curious, skittish even. None of the horrific, unifying purpose had remained in its eyes.

  "I can corroborate, Uncle," Rocher added. "The attacks have indeed slowed down over the past few hours. If we really think on it, the st couple of encounters seemed more like acts of self-preservation."

  A glimmer of hope dawned in the Count's eyes.

  "How long has it been since the rain stopped?" I asked.

  "About three hours..."

  "Two and a half," Rocher corrected.

  "I take it Castle Greymane uses a modern sewer system? I've seen grates on the street, and the flooding has subsided fairly quickly."

  Count Greymane nodded cautiously. I smiled.

  "Then congratutions, Your Lordship. I believe we’ve found where the rest are hiding."

  "Reinforcements should be arriving within the next day or two. In the meantime, we'll continue to protect everyone here in case of stragglers," Rocher promised.

  The Count sighed in relief. "Son, will you not be heading down to finish the job?"

  He shook his head. "We're in the business of hunting demons, not exterminating pests. We'll investigate and clean up any lingering demon activity, but you'd best commission a job with the Adventurer's Guild, Uncle."

  "Actually, on that note," I interjected, "I have a request."

  The two turned to me.

  "If possible, could we capture the survivors alive? They're important to Lake Pcid's ecology, and I feel kind of sorry that the demons left them here, high and dry."

  The next two days passed in a haze of recovery. The rain held off, leaving only the smell of petrichor, and Castle Greymane began to breathe again.

  As promised, a caravan of reinforcements and relief goods from the capital rolled in. Among them were a contingent of healers that Lumiere had convinced the bishops to send.

  I read her letter with a smirk while a priest was tending to my leg. She really was growing up.

  Evelyn, Rocher, and a handful of soldiers had scoured the castle and its surroundings for the lesser demons responsible, but they’d vanished without a trace—taking the precious boss experience and our chance at retribution with them. I was a little sore about it, but the citizens' safety came first.

  At least Count Greymane was back to his jovial self.

  "You must absolutely stay for one more night! We shall feast like we've never feasted before!"

  Like that, he pulled out all the stops. Emotions ran high. Grief for those who were lost. Joy for those who could yet live.

  Evelyn, naturally, was ecstatic. Her ughter was distinct even among the cavalcade of voices.

  "If I get to drink on the Count's dime, then that's just fine!"

  She clinked tankards with the other soldiers and proceeded to drink them under the table.

  Seraphine retired early, taking a ptter of sweets up to the room. It wasn't her type of scene, but I resolved to share a quiet celebration with her ter.

  Rocher was normally a heavy drinker—he would always go shot-for-shot with Evelyn. But tonight, he seemed contented just to sit by me.

  I swirled the contents of my own cup. This body wasn't good with liquor.

  "Mister Rocher, I was thinking of getting Miss Seraphine a reward. Since she's worked so hard this time—and since I made her worry."

  Rocher nodded. "I figured you for the type. If you're that strict when someone does wrong, it's only fair to reward them when they do right."

  I recalled the time I had kicked him in the groin. You deserved it, you idiot.

  "Anyway, do you think we could make time to visit the market once we're back?"

  "As long as there's no order to mobilize, we're free to do as we please."

  "Then I'll find something suitable for Miss Seraphine."

  From the game, I knew that Seraphine's interests ran surprisingly girly—dresses, ribbons, makeup. After her years in the Tower, she'd never had the chance to express that side of herself. And honestly, I wanted to py dress-up with her. Outfit customization had been my guilty pleasure.

  "What about me?" Rocher asked expectantly.

  "What about you?"

  "What reward do I get? I worked hard too, right?"

  I pondered for a second. I supposed it was true.

  "Then, Mister Rocher, what kind of things do you like?"

  He shook his head. "Not a thing. I'd rather make a request of you."

  I narrowed my eyes. I knew the kind of "requests" the Hero usually made in the game.

  He fidgeted with his thumbs. "I'd like you to be more aware of yourself. Sometimes, you act a little... defenseless."

  Oh. I rexed a little. That wasn't too bad. I have been putting myself in danger a lot tely.

  "Then, as you say, Mister Rocher. In the future, I'll try to be more careful around monsters."

  "No, wait. I mean—yes, do that, but—" He stammered, then sighed in exasperation.

  "I'm talking about men. When they touch you or get close... it's because they have ulterior motives."

  He winced the moment the words left his mouth.

  I narrowed my eyes again. "Haven't you been the one doing most of the touching tely?"

  Rocher turned red—bashful almost. "I—"

  "Cire!" Evelyn’s voice slurred from behind me. She draped herself over my shoulders, strands of her sable hair tickling my cheek.

  "What are you two whispering about, getting all worked up like this?"

  All of a sudden I realized my face felt very warm too. Probably from the alcohol. The edges of my vision blurred.

  "You're one to talk, Miss Evelyn. Your face is the reddest out of everyone here."

  She ughed, her breath reeking of beer. She swayed on her feet, nearly dragging me with her.

  I squared myself. "We were just discussing rewards. For a job well done."

  "Rewards, huh?" Evelyn's ears perked up, suddenly very interested. "And what do I get?"

  "Well, we hadn't quite gotten to you yet," I said.

  "In that case, I've got an idea."

  She wrapped her arms around my waist, then lifted them with a wicked grin. My chest spilled over her forearms.

  She whistled, low and appreciative. "Oho, I just knew you were hiding some puppies in here. Let me fondle them."

  I looked over at Rocher. His eyes were about to pop out of his head.

  This should be fine, right? Evelyn wasn't a man, after all.

  "One minute, over the clothes only."

  Rocher's mouth hung open. Then he swallowed hard.

  "Is-is it too te to change my reward?"

  veetoks