1) Phantom Domesticity: Become a spectral maid, invisible except to those she "invites" (via eye contact).

  -Reflective Service: Teleport through mirrors, polished silver, or the eyes of people. (Current blink range: 5 meters.)

  -Guest’s Guise: Control others by "tidying their mind." Victims perform chores robotically or self-destruct if resisting. (Effectiveness depends on victim’s core color—further study required.)

  -Hymn of Obedience: A piercing hymn that stuns listeners into bowing. (Efficacy unconfirmed—requires additional testing.)

  2) Sovereign of Sterility:

  -Frostbite Sanitization: Freeze surfaces to shatter enemies or create gcial barriers. Her mop leaves trails of bck ice that rot flesh.

  -Corrosive Solutions: Summon acidic perfumes or sludge to melt obstacles. (Organic or otherwise.)

  -Spectral Staff: Animate dead servants (e.g., suits of armor, clothes, taxidermied butlers) bound to her will. (Limited to one entity for now.)

  I stared at the parchment in my hand, its edges trembling faintly as my gaze drifted toward the kitchen. Belle had vanished into its shadows moments ago to brew tea, her absence punctuated by the eerie rustle of a spectral dress fluttering autonomously across the room. Squee! The creature—or whatever it was—obeyed Belle’s hissed command to fetch the porcein, gliding toward the cabinets with unsettling precision.

  My eyes then met Alice’s, and I couldn’t help but furrow my brow before gncing back at the paper. Suppressing a grimace, I refocused on the list she’d compiled—a meticulous catalog of Belle’s newfound abilities, each line item more unnerving than the st. The doll’s organizational rigor was impressive, yes, but it paled beside the sheer absurdity of what Belle had become.

  The ability to blink through reflective surfaces like a mischievous specter, commandeer minds by “tidying” them up, and even force a bow with a well-timed Squee! Meanwhile, she wields her mop as an instrument of flesh erosion, summons corrosive potions on a whim, and can even animate clothing and armor to do her bidding!

  Thador’s beard. I’d thought my Thunder Verdict was overpowered, but this? This was madness incarnate. A schor’s itch nagged at me—what runes fueled this? What twisted magic etched itself into her core?—but I knew better. Even if I could study Belle’s arcane blueprint, the complexity would fracture my understanding. Some puzzles weren’t meant to be solved.

  With a sigh, I folded the parchment and tucked it away. “Lotte cims Belle embodies the Concept of Darkness—Freedom,” I muttered, half to myself, half to Alice’s motionless silhouette. “But where’s the connection? Am I missing it, or is this just… chaos?”

  The doll tilted her head, blindfolded gaze sharpening as her voice slithered into my mind. “Specution, Mistress,” she began, “Her power stems from limitation. Formerly bound to a frail vessel, she twisted the maid’s purpose—servitude as liberation. To break her chains, she rebuilt herself into something… useful. To you.”

  “Useful?” The word curdled in my throat.

  “Freedom through utility. Shedding weakness to become indispensable.”

  I paused to digest her words. The idea of escaping the limitations of one’s flesh did hold a certain allure. Yet a niggling worry remained—what of Belle’s mental state? I’d toyed with the idea of granting her tangible powers for some time, but did she really feel that her current form was so terribly cking?

  Before I could spiral further into philosophical musings, Belle breezed in—her animated dress still sashaying behind like an errant specter—bancing a tray of tea. It made me wonder: had I simply been oblivious? After all, transcending the constraints of one’s physical form only makes sense if one deems the old self a hindrance.

  I reached for my tea, letting its aroma dance about my nostrils (I adored her tea), and we all settled down. Belle, having reverted to her charming badger form, carefully selected her own cup with her tiny paws, dunked a biscuit into it, and gleefully slurped up her treat.

  I shook my head, bemused. Maybe I was inventing phantoms. If Belle harbored regrets, Alice would’ve sensed them. The doll devoured emotions like sugar. And yet…

  No. The badger’s ears twitched contentedly as she licked crumbs from her cws. Whatever shadows lurked in her past, this Belle—biscuit thief, sentient-dress commander, flesh-melting badger maid—seemed… happy.

  For now, that was enough.

  After a spell of study, I eventually tore myself away from my books—it was high time to make tracks for the Alchemy Tower. I even extended an invitation to Belle to join the journey. Belle declined my invitation with a militant Squee!—something about “sanitizing infiltrating filth.” Her mop leaned against the doorframe like a sentinel’s halberd.

  I couldn’t help but smirk. The room did look like it needed a good dose of her cleaning magic, so with a nod, I stepped outside alongside Alice.

  Huh…

  Infiltrating?

  A shiver prickled my neck. Surely she meant pollen. Dust bunnies. Not… visitors. I pictured her polishing vertebrae with that acidic rag and grimaced. No. My badger-maid’s heart was pure as bleached linen. Innocent? Undoubtedly. Selective about what constituted dirt? Worryingly so.

  Well, I was violent enough for both of us anyway.

  Iron Pact enforcers streaked across the ste-gray sky, their obsidian bdes humming like steel-feathered raptors. Five patrols in the time it took to cross the courtyard—a record, before I even reached the Tower proper.

  So it seemed my suspicions had morphed from a mere guess into a full-blown hypothesis: someone had indeed detected that Abyss Dweller sneaking into our realm, that tear in the very fabric of reality. Frankly, I wasn’t even 100% sure I knew what I’d summoned in the first pce—bme Lotte for that mystery.

  At least a part of me could breathe easier knowing nothing catastrophically spilled over into our world. Well, except for that little bit of essence now hitching a ride with Belle. But I wasn’t counting that as a full-blown camity.

  Meanwhile, the lower-floor apprentices were abuzz with whispers about a breach in the Parda. Demonic incursion. Rogue summoner. Holy moly, gossip here spreads faster than enchanted wildfire! On the first floor, however, not a peep was heard. That’s because Vasilisa was on duty, and when she rose, everyone else fell silent under her cutting, knife-like gre. Her stint was brief, though, as Mrs. Petrov soon took over while Vasilisa slinked off to attend to her mysterious spare-time endeavors.

  Before long, Viera sidled up to me. “Did you know someone breached the Parda st night?” she inquired.

  Ah yes, that would be yours truly! I thought, though I kept a poker face. “Yeah, I’ve heard the whispers,” I added, feigning nonchance. “Got any idea which realm was involved?”

  Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, Viera replied, “I think someone opened the gates to hell.”

  Her imagination was running wild, clearly. “What makes you say that?” I prodded.

  “The sheer number of enforcers I saw zipping past on my way here practically bellowed ‘imminent catastrophe.’ Wouldn’t bat an eye if it turned out to be a demon swarm—or, hell, even a high-ranked NetherBeast,” she mused, then flicked a hand dismissively. “Could be anything, really—I haven’t the foggiest. But it does make me wonder: who in their right mind was unhinged enough to attempt a summoning within city walls? Must be stark raving mad. May their ancestors have mercy on their poor, deluded soul.” She punctuated the sentiment with a dramatic tap to her temple.

  Hey now. For the record, my attempt had the personal stamp of approval from one of her so-called ancestors. Lotte had to be a dragon ancestor, right? Bah. Who knew what that portly, wisecracking samander was really up to? All I knew was that I was still stewing over her giving me half the information and expecting me to just roll with it.

  I shook my head, shifting gears. “Well, at least your birthday ball preparations must be gliding along without a hitch.”

  She fshed a grin. “Invitations went out yesterday. Delicate scrolls, painstakingly inscribed in ornate calligraphy, sealed with enchanted wax, and whisked away by swift, gossip-hungry couriers who’d sooner die than deliver anything less than perfection. Mother, of course, insisted we line the grand staircase with frost orchids imported from the Shattered Spires.” Her smile turned brittle. “Because apparently, hosting a war council would be less exhausting than letting me choose my own dessert menu.”

  I snapped a wolfsbane stem with unnecessary force. “They’re training you to wield guest lists like siege weapons. Fy your enemies with… canapés.”

  “Precisely! Father even wants me to personally approve the security wards on the venue.” She sagged against the shelf by my station. “As if the Iron Pact enforcers won’t already be lurking like armored gargoyles.”

  My stirring rod clinked against the cauldron’s rim. “Cheer up. One day, when you’re ruling your sect from a gilded panquin, you’ll yearn for these quaint student hardships.”

  “Says the girl who sneaks out every night.”

  I just chuckled. “Endure the pageantry for now. The moment you step into that ridiculous jeweled gown, you’ll feel…”

  “Like a prize hog trussed for sughter?”

  “Like the architect of your own legend.” I flicked a sprig of nightshade into her hair. “Now quit whining.”

  For a fleeting second, I nearly blurted, Hey! Someone just punched a hole in reality—maybe we should all get our dimensional resonance checked! But I cmped down on that impulse immediately.

  Even if it slipped past Viera’s notice, a scan could tip off whoever had been tampering with the resonance. And I certainly didn’t want that.

  Let the poisoner grow compcent, I thought, grinding dried spider lilies into powder. Let them bask in the brilliance of their own subtle corruption. Soon, they’d learn what dragonfire felt like against the vertebrae they once took for granted.

  “Two more days, and I guess I’ll finally get a break from my oh-so-monotone life.” A funny little lie, considering my life was anything but.

  She hesitated for just a beat, then her grin widened. “I knew you’d be coming!”

  “Obviously. Now, get back to your station before Vasilisa pops in and gives you another earful.”

  The color drained from her face as she scrambled off, throwing me one st, hesitant smile. “You better bring scandalous gifts!”

  “Wouldn’t dare miss your descent into noble debauchery,” I called after her, voice smooth as silk. The lie barely registered. My real gift would be delivered in cws and ichor.

  I turned back to my potion brewing, stirring the cauldron with meticulous care before—very discreetly—cing in just a whisper of poison to, um, soothe my nerves. The first drop burned across my tongue—liquid silence, smothering the riot of overclocked neurons.

  Not an addiction, I told the judgmental face lurking in the cauldron’s steam. A tactical necessity.

  ***

  Once again, I found myself before 'Lily’s charms and curios', pausing for a deep, steadying breath before swinging open the door. Inside, Lysska was already holding court, fnked by Quickpaw—who lounged on a nearby sofa with the nonchance of royalty, meticulously sthering jam onto her bread. The moment I stepped in, her long, foxlike ears perked up, and she greeted me with a radiant grin. But it wasn’t just me in the room.

  There, nestled comfortably beside Quickpaw and deep in conversation with Lysska, sat that rakari boy, Zoran.

  "While I'd love to escort you to his corpse," Lysska began, "my apologies—the fiasco from st night has stirred up quite the commotion. The entire forest is now barricaded by Iron Pact Enforcers."

  "I… understand," he managed.

  "Yet you were awfully insistent on seeing his corpse firsthand. Is there something you're not telling me?" she prodded.

  I couldn’t help but notice a fine bead of sweat forming on the boy’s temple—a little giveaway quickly hidden before Lysska’s keen gaze fell upon him.

  "Oh, Venam, welcome, welcome!" she chirped, the name rolling off her tongue with a familiarity that made me wince—it was the very same moniker Quickpaw had earlier lobbed at those counterfeit enforcers. Shrugging off the slight discomfort, I settled into a seat.

  Perched gracefully on my shoulder—visible to only me—was Alice, ever the silent sentinel. Belle was somewhere nearby as well, though I had no inkling of where my precious badger maid might be at the moment. Her new powers were even more bone-chilling than the ominous cawing of Whisper’s crows.

  "I have already told you everything of interest, Miss Lysska," He stated.

  "A rather blunt lie," piped up Alice. But honestly, I couldn’t care less about this guy's fibs at the moment. I’d unearthed the truth about his dearly departed employer—a revetion that had convinced Lysska of my worth—and now it was time to milk her for some juicy intel. Or perhaps, put her ragtag gang to more productive use.

  Lysska, seemingly oblivious to his dishonesty—or perhaps already in the know—dismissed Zoran with a wave. As he slinked away, I caught a subtle hint of a crow tailing him.

  "Where did you vanish off to st night?" she inquired sharply.

  "That was on me," I admitted, his tone ced with regret. "I really should've thought twice before lingering alone in that damned forest."

  "Hoh? I'm sure you've heard about someone breaching the Parda there yesterday," she mused.

  Before I could unch into my own fabricated tale—complete with a pointed accusation against the Elves—the bell chimed once more. In strode two more girls: drakkari by appearance, their clothes bearing the stains of hard, grimy work. But it was the smaller of the two who immediately captured my attention—the very same diminutive drakkari girl I had possessed two nights ago.