Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Three

This place was a league above where I was staring. Still a few notches below Fran’s place, but that was expected. So, I wasn’t too worried when I left most of my things in her car. Obviously, Mister Couchtop came with me. 

We rode an elevator up, which mostly meant standing awkwardly next to Louise as she scrolled through some stuff on her phone. It was a damned slow ride, which let me see what she was looking at. Well... no, that was more because I was nosy and didn’t have any real appreciation for things like self-preservation in what was likely going to be a lost loop.

“Are you doomscrolling?” I asked.

Every page or whatever that she flicked through was news, and not the mix of political bullshit, international news, and a sprinkling of celebrity gossip and uplifting drivel. It was bad. All bad. Wars, stock crashes, lost portals. 

Like, sure, it could have been a coincidence with the first ten, but it just kept going.

Louise looked up to meet my eyes, then sighed and lowered her phone. “It’s... how do you say... emotional preparation. To be in the right set of mind for magic. And yes, I know exactly how unhealthy this all is.”

“I wasn’t judging,” I lied. 

She probably caught on to that. The look she gave me was flat and unimpressed. “You will understand one day, if you ever make it to C-rank. Whatever the emotion that empowers you, you need to embrace it. If you are lucky, then it is something good. If you’re not, you find yourself constantly feeding off of something negative, over and over again, because that is the only path forward.”

“Is that worth it?” I asked just as the elevator stopped and the doors dinged open.

“Ask me once I’m a B-ranker,” she replied before stepping out.

I followed after her. The corridor was narrow, but very clean. The carpet looked new, and the lighting was bright. There weren’t even that many doors, so I assumed that each apartment on this floor was relatively large, at least compared to the squeezed in place I stayed at.

I only vaguely remembered this place. The deja-vu was coming on strong, however, especially as she stopped by one door and unlocked it with a swipe of her hand. “Take off your shoes,” she said without looking back.

I did just that.

Her apartment was nice. The entrance opened up to a long, wide kitchen, with a living space at the back of it and the far wall was all glass with a balcony that had a nice view of the skyscrapers across the street. 

There was a washroom to one side, and I counted three rooms that were all large enough to be proper bedrooms. Hell, they were each the size of my entire apartment. She had square footage to spare, and she was using it well. 

“Nice decor,” I said as I pushed my boots to the side and followed. Mister Couchtop was placed onto her kitchen counter where he glared sullenly at me.

“Thank you,” she said. “I had a passion for that, once. Now I just buy whatever I think looks nice enough. Ah, here comes Minette.”

I blinked, then stepped back slightly as a fat white cat launched itself from the ground and landed on the counter before Mister Couchtop’s cage. She sniffed, long white feather-duster of a tail flicking from side to side.

“Cute,” I said.

“She is beautiful, yes,” Louise said with a nod, as though it were exceptionally obvious. “Minette is a pure breed Birman.”

“Oh, nice! Mister Couchtop is a British Shorthair.”

“Hmm, I like his name,” she said. “Minette’s full name is Madam Minette des Bonbon.”

I nodded right back. That seemed like an eminently sensible name for a fine young lady. “Do you think I should allow Mister Couchtop out? I don’t want them to fight, but I don’t want to leave him in a cage all night.”

Louise frowned. I think this was the most concern I had ever seen her displaying. A little miffed that it was about the cat, but that was acceptable. 

“Let’s give them a few minutes to sniff each other out,” I said. “I brought one of his wet food packets, I can squeeze it into the cage later.”

She nodded, then slipped over to the fridge and opened it. “You must be hungry.”

“I could eat,” I said before stifling a yawn. I needed some serious sleep. All that moving around and fighting, all on like, no hours of sleep, was getting to me. But yeah, I was a bit peckish, especially when Lousie started to remove some things from her fridge. One of the first things was a half-full bottle of red wine, then she lived up to the stereotypes and pulled out deli meats and cheeses. “Sandwiches?” I asked.

“It’s simple,” she replied. “There’s a bakery two buildings over. They serve a richer clientele. They made bread with flour from a dungeon in Fortress SE. It is delicious.”

I should have been a little nervous when she pulled out a long knife, but I calmed as I remembered that she was a proper, experienced C-ranker, and she didn’t need a knife to murder me. A cold stare would probably do it.

She started to prep some sandwiches. “While I cook. You will explain what happened.”

“Did I do that already?” I asked.

“Do it again, then,” she said.

I frowned, then started to pet Madam Minette des Bonbon, who had come over to me and was walking in small circles, her tail swishing against my face. I noticed that the cat kept looking at Mister Couchtop as I pet her, almost as if checking to see if he was properly envious.

“Fine. A few Seraphs assholes kicked my door in at about fuck-off o’ clock in the morning, and I took that personally. I uh, wasn’t in my room at the time, so they didn’t get me, but I managed to hurt one of them and stall the rest. Then I left and that Glover guy was rude to me outside, and I kicked his ass.”

She stared at me, hands still making two sandwiches without much attention. “And before that?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“How did you provoke them?” she asked.

I crossed my arms. “I didn’t.”

“I doubt that,” she said. “If you tell me, then this will be easier.”

“And I don’t have to do that, do I?” I asked. “Mostly because I really didn’t set off to piss them off.”

“Ah, but you did do something that, as you say, pissed them off?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What would it matter if I did? Breaking into my house that late isn’t justifiable by any means. I may have annoyed them, somehow, but I didn’t do anything news worthy. Certainly nothing worthy of that kind of retaliation.”

“Have you been sleeping with anyone? Maybe that C-ranker? Jilted lovers will do stupid things.”

I glared at her. “I haven’t fucked anyone from Seraph.”

“Not that Ernest man?”

My face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew, no.”

Louise chuckled. “Not your type, then?”

“No, not at all. Wrong gender, and even if he was a hot woman I wouldn’t forgive him... okay, so maybe a little?” Damn... but I totally would forgive someone if they were hot, wouldn’t I?

I think Louise caught on to the implication there, for what it was worth. It didn’t help that she was hot.  

I cleared my throat and looked away first, because I was brave and heroic and also had the survival instincts of damp cardboard. “That’s not relevant.”

“It is a little relevant,” Louise said.

“It’s not.”

“It might explain some of your decisions.”

“My decisions are perfectly explainable without bringing my terrible taste in women into it.”

Louise grabbed a plate from a cupboard, then slapped a sandwich onto it. Then she set down two wine glasses, popped the cork on her bottle, and filled both near to the brim. “Eat,” she said as she pushed both the plate and cup my way.

“You didn’t even ask if I liked wine,” I complained.

She raised an eyebrow. 

I sighed, took the cup, sniffed it, then drank just a sip. “Oh,” I said. “Oh that's good.”

“Obviously,” she said. 

“Is everything in your life like this? Secretly fancy?”

“No,” she said. “Some things are openly fancy.”

I snorted, then had to cover my mouth. Madam Minette des Bonbon looked offended by my lack of decorum. Or maybe she was hoping that I’d drop a piece or two for her?

I didn’t know if it was the food or the tiredness, or if the wine was just hitting fast, but I felt... okay. Yeah, I felt okay.