I take a step back and nod slowly. "Yeah. How'd you…"

"Experiences. We… were stuck together. Like… like…" Agathe motions incomprehensibly with her hands. "Against our wills. You know?"

No. I don't. Her intensity's a little off putting, too, so I'm not really that eager to ask for clarification. If she's one of Gil's ex-girlfriends… wait, Gil? The guy who assured me I was 'too human' for his tastes? No way; the only way I could see that happening is if… is if… she knew him before he came to this world.

My curiosity peaks, overwhelming the quiet alarm bells. "When did you get to know him?"

"Long, long ago. Years. I was just a kid then."

Agathe motions for the cloak to back away so I can have some space. Then she taps her foot on the floor to make a door and jumps down, beckoning me to follow with an eager wave. I shoot a glance at the cloaks for a moment, then hop down to join her. Pearl grumbles something about another clothier, and that she hopes Agathe doesn't turn out to be like Dell.

I agree wholeheartedly.

A cloak follows me down. The fabric wraps around Agathe like a loving embrace, forming around her into a flowing dress that covers everything but her face and hair. She brushes a strand of flowy fabric off her shoulder that trails behind her like a waft of smoke in fabric form, then turns and hovers off without waiting for me.

I roll my eyes and jog to follow her. "I'm assuming you're leading me to the quest I showed you?"

"We'll quickly finish it. Do you mind?"

Mind? Mind what? Agathe extends a hand wrapped in shimmering fabric for me to take without any further explanation. I stare at it without any desire to take it.

"Tell me what you're going to do first."

Agathe sighs. "Help you."

I furrow my brow in annoyance. "It takes two damn sentences to give a little more context, you know."

"Yes."

It's my turn to sigh. I feel out with my awareness to try and get a sense of what Agathe wants from me, but all I can feel is a strange well of magic in her palm. Like a small pool of water sloshing and spilling over a barely cupped hand. It doesn't feel like it's malicious. But, uh, there's still the chance Agathe is one of Gil's bitter exes.

Pearl clears her throat to get my attention. "It's just some kind of identification. You're safe to touch it."

Alright, then. I softly breathe out and reach for Agathe's hand with my own. She clicks her tongue and gently pushes my hand away, then motions at my other arm. The one with Dell's fabric wrapped around it to protect… to protect the plastic jewelry. Shit, I'd pretty much forgotten about it. I glance up at Pearl again with questioning eyes, but her expression hasn't changed. Just in case something goes wrong, I mentally touch my relocation coin at our tower and extend my other hand.

Agathe accepts it with a firm squeeze. Magic softly trails up my arm to prod at Dell's fabric. Little discerning noises escape Agathe's lips as she studies it, her brow furrowing in… something… the further she looks into it. Eventually she nods to herself and trails a finger along Dell's fabric.

It splits like warm butter and falls to the ground. I blink in surprise, but before I can even get a word out, new fabric flows from Agathe's hand to replace the stuff she destroyed. It presses tenderly into my skin like a warming massage, flickers against my awareness, then goes dark. Completely dark. I raise my arm and flex against the stuff. Instead of feeling like nothing, it somehow feels like the fabric is helping me.

"What is this stuff?" I ask in awe.

Agathe shrugs. "Some of my best. For Gil's friend."

There's no bitterness in the way she says 'friend'. Just appreciation. And… a little bit of something like recognition. As if me being Gil's friend improved my standing in her eyes. Honestly, it's a bit of a stretch for her to assume I'm Gil's friend just because I have his contact information, but I'm not about to point that out.

Instead, I just nod in thanks. "Do you have other colours? I'd love a full wardrobe of this stuff."

I'd intended it to be a lighthearted compliment, but Agathe nods seriously and starts looking me up and down with the discerning eye of a designer. Suddenly I'm a little more aware of every little oddity about my body than usual.

"Of course. What colours?"

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"Other ones. For another discussion." I say with finality in the hopes of getting Agathe's… gaze… off me. Hrm. "This might be a weird question, but, uh, aren't you blind?"

"Yes."

"...Then how are you looking at me? Hell, how'd you look at my Class Card?"

Agathe makes an 'o' with her mouth. "I thought you knew how. Sorry."

I wait for a follow-up. Once more, there's none. Whatever cat's got her tongue is really getting on my nerves.

"Just tell me–is there some way you're seeing right now, and does it have to do with all the cloaks?"

Agathe nods. "It does."

Alright. Okay. That's going to have to be good enough for now. If she doesn't want to say anything more, I can always ask Gil about the strange blind seamstress that apparently knows him. Right now I just have to focus on building up our army of constructs. …Wait, shit, I'm going to have to try to recruit Agathe, aren't I? Damn it.

I sigh in reluctant acceptance. And put it off until later. "So… uh… you and Gil. Were you an item?"

Agathe snorts out a laugh. "Too old."

"He is?"

She nods. "I was a kid. He was around twenty."

A strange chill worms its way down my spine. That'd make Gil… a lot older than I thought he was. And a lot older than he looks. I hope to hell he isn't standing outside this world's version of a college trying to pick up young non-human women.

I shake my head to put that unpleasant image away. "So you're…"

"Twenty-seven."

Only a few years older than me. Shit. That's… if she was a part of the first wave of people who got Class Coins… she would've been twelve. Way too young. I swallow hard and try to imagine twelve year-old me going through what I've been through. It isn't good.

"How old were you when–"

"Twelve." She interrupts before I can finish. "One of the first. With Gil. And others."

Damn. I was kind of hoping I was wrong. She sort of… quiets down and looks away after saying that, and I let her have her quiet. At least she isn't a Worth Class. Things would've been much worse if that was the case.

She hovers in silence for good long while, shifting floors every now and again seemingly at random. I follow to the best of my abilities, which are pretty damn stifled by all the cable-roots that seem to absolutely infest this district. Ours didn't have anywhere near this many. Maybe that's because of the shellraiser castle walls we brought up.

Other than that, though, the district's the exact same as the others. Which only reinforces my suspicions about this place. The system wants to bring it all back into reality. But it apparently had to recreate a huge chunk of it to get to this state. How much of this same-ness is because of that, and how much of it was the same even when Jumble lived here so long ago?

The question lingers on the tip of my mind as Agathe comes to a stop. She motions at a wall, then presses her hand to it. All at once the material erupts and swallows us up, pulling us deep into a strange room with an abundance of simple chairs with flimsy armrests all pointed at a small stage. Like the dressings of a c-list artist's concert at a dying local mall.

"We're here." Agathe says. "Do you care?"

I raise an eyebrow. "About what?"

"The rewards." She answers simply.

The rewards. I mean… not really, no. All I'm here for is the anomalous construct that's apparently around here somewhere. If Agathe's volunteering to clear this thing in a few seconds, though, then I guess I need to explain a little.

I cross my arms and look around. "About the rewards… no, not really. But I need a minute to talk to the construct in here before you blow it clean open. Can you wait?"

She nods. "No hurry."

I return a nod of thanks and pull out my Class Card. The subquest instructions are actually here, unlike pretty much every other damn one, but they're just as obtuse as ever.

Welcome to the show.

Be the punishment.

The lights dim as my eyes slide over the last word. Noise echoes through the room as ghostly forms fill the chairs; rough paindne-like shapes that twitch and flicker like animations with far too frames of motion. Agathe hums to herself and clasps her hands behind her back as she looks to me expectantly. For a few blissful seconds, I don't have any idea what's going on. Then something stumbles onto the stage. And all that shatters into utter disgust.

A construct with only one arm. Eyes gouged out violently. Long bone-deep gouges on its back as if it had been whipped every single day for the last thousand years. It's an extremely tall paindne, with a gaunt frame and gangly limbs–either from malnutrition or from its breed–most likely marking it as a first-wave.

Most likely marking it as a heretic. Or someone unlucky enough to have sympathized with one.

"Vile." Agathe mutters. "Torture for pain's sake."

I set my jaw and nod in agreement. A coin appears between my knuckles, and the construct flinches. The last words; 'Be the punishment', echo in my mind over and over again as visceral disgust bubbles up in my stomach. Because the quest is, actually, very simple. Probably quick, too, in almost any other circumstance.

But I'm not killing the construct.

Not for the system's amusement.

As infusion fills my coin, my Class Card blinks with another notification. I ignore it. Whatever the quest wants me to do, I'm not doing it. We're saving this poor bastard and getting out of here. I push the coin onto my nail. The crowd goes monotone-wild as the construct winces and tries to look away, but an ethereal chain yanks its neck to force it to look at me.

The notification beeps again, this time with more insistence. Again I ignore it. A flurry of noises and light flash over my eyes that're too much to ignore. I snarl and rip the card out of wherever it's stored and glare at my notifications.

My expression turns to utter confusion as I read the message. Because… it is a message. Not a notification.

One whose sender seems to be the quest itself.

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