Another week passed.
The people in the hotel had already come to accept Moon as a permanent resident.
When Husk polished glasses, he would habitually set aside a glass of honey lemon water—no ice—for him.
After Niffty finished cleaning his room, she loved to leave two dead cockroaches on the corner of his desk, calling them “complimentary gifts.” When Alastor ran into him in the hallway, he would offer a nod; the smile was the same as ever, and the underlying intent hadn’t changed, but he no longer bothered to put his testing on the surface.
The hotel returned to its dull yet familiar rhythm.
Moon remained the perfect guest, starting each day with a well-timed breakfast and ending it with a quiet piano piece.
But the shadows were gathering again.
Vaggie’s nightly visits had become a routine.
At first, she would just knock while making her rounds, standing at the door to complain about whatever strange stray dog Charlie had brought home or how Angel had hidden contraband in the toilet tank again.
Later, she began coming inside to sit.
With a cup of hot tea poured by Moon at her side, her petty complaints evolved into long silences, and eventually, into fragmented venting.
But tonight, she didn’t sit.
The main lights in the room were off, leaving only a single wall lamp by the bed lit, casting her shadow long against the wall.
Outside the window, the flickering red and blue lights of the city reflected in her bloodshot eye.
“Failed again.”
“I see.”
Vaggie stood there for a while before continuing in starts and stops.
“Charlie went to see Valentino again today.
That bastard didn’t even let her in the door; he just had his bodyguards escort her out.”
“When she came back, her eyes were red, yet she was still comforting me, saying, ‘It’s okay, we’ll try again tomorrow.'”
“I really can’t watch this anymore.”
“Angel hasn’t gone out to cause trouble once this week.
He eats his meals on time, he even helps tidy up.
He’s clearly moving forward.”
Her voice grew tighter as she spoke.
“But what’s the point?
As long as that contract exists, he’ll always be Valentino’s toy.
He goes out every morning to be torn apart, and we put him back together at night. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
We’re just polishing a marionette while the strings are still in someone else’s hands.”
“We’re wasting our time, Moon.
The hotel’s occupancy rate is still at zero growth.
Everyone who comes is just a transient looking for a free refuge.
At this rate, we won’t even need to wait for the next Extermination—we’ll fall apart from sheer despair.”
She finally voiced her deepest fear.
Her hands hung limply at her sides.
Moon didn’t respond to her outburst.
He picked up the kettle, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to her.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
The question was so sudden that Vaggie’s brain stalled for a second.
“Huh?”
“I asked how you slept last night.”
“…Alright, I guess?
No nightmares,” she answered somewhat blankly, taking the glass.
“And dinner?
Did you have the mushroom soup?”
“It was good.
A bit salty, though.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Moon nodded, and only then did he circle back to the topic.
“Angel has to go to Valentino’s place every day to film.
By your standards, that doesn’t exactly align with our path to redemption, does it?”
“Of course it doesn’t!
That’s why Charlie—”
Vaggie cut herself off mid-sentence, suddenly realizing Moon’s intent. Get faster updates on g.com.
He wanted her to calm down first.
She adjusted her breathing and spoke again.
“That’s why Charlie goes to that bastard every day, hoping he’ll show some mercy—even if it’s just giving Angel a few days off.
Ideally, she wants to get the contract dissolved.”
After listening, Moon gave an understanding smile.
“Would a cruel child easily give up his favorite toy just because the toy’s family came by crying and making a scene?”
Vaggie gripped the glass tight.
“No.
He’d only find it more amusing.
He’d twist the toy even harder just to enjoy the look of despair on their faces.”
Moon nodded.
“It only makes Angel’s situation worse.”
Vaggie reached up to rake a hand through her hair, her irritation becoming impossible to suppress.
“I know.
I know that.
But I can’t stop her.
What else can we do?
Snatch him back?
That would be declaring war on the 3Vs.
We don’t have the strength for that.
Alastor might, but he’s just a bastard watching the show, dying to see more fall from grace.”
Moon stood up from the bed, walked over to Vaggie, and leaned down.
Vaggie was sitting in the chair Moon usually used for reading.
His position forced her to look up to meet his eyes.
She wanted to glare back defiantly, but his gaze was as calm as still water.
In his dark pupils, she saw the reflection of her own small, slightly panicked self.
She found she couldn’t muster any momentum and was forced to look away awkwardly.
“Since you can’t stop it,” Moon said, “then join it.”