In the short time it took to gather Hunter’s things and exit the medical building, the heavy rain dwindled to a drizzle. While the storm might have calmed, its ominous presence hadn’t, and dawn rose in deep reds and oranges through the lingering clouds, painting the campus in a sinister light. Beyond the sheltered entryway, wind shook the trees as the warm gusts scattered petals and leaves through the air.
Since Hunter didn’t have an umbrella, he reached his hand out to test for raindrops, only to find that no rain managed to make it to his palm on account of the thin, concave sheet of black ectoplasm suddenly floating above him.
“You really just use that stuff for everything, huh?”
“Why not? It’s convenient,” Iphis replied, stepping out beside Hunter.
“Don’t people get weirded out seeing ghost juice floating around?”
Iphis blinked in confusion and asked, “No, why would they?”
“Nevermind, forget I said anything,” Hunter sighed, deciding that as long as it didn’t touch him or his stuff he could put up with it. “By the way, I've been wondering… how the heck do I convince Chiron I’m human?”
Iphis began to walk along the wet stone path and Hunter followed, struggling to tie back his long red hair as the wind began ruthlessly whipping it around.
“That might be difficult, why do you ask?”
“‘Coz I never thought I’d be getting lectured about birth control at my age!”
To his annoyance, Iphis snorted and then looked away casually and tried to pretend he hadn’t.
“Oh… that… maybe I should have warned you.”
“What do you mean? Why didn’t you warn me!?”
“Because I do believe you’re human, so it slipped my mind… but in the Boss’ defense, we’ve had problems with this sort of thing before. Are you aware that spirits cannot sexually reproduce?”
“Huh? Uh…” He thought about it and realized this was something Ianthe did know. “Yes?”
“Well, let’s just say that, when they become trapped in a physical body that can, they don’t always expect the consequences.”
With a brand new fear unlocked, Hunter stared at Iphis in horror.
“That’s… actually happened to people?”
“Yes, and it’s weird and unpleasant and morally questionable for everybody involved, so the Arch-healer was just being cautious.”
Hunter had already been unhappy about the idea of sharing his body with a pissy malevolent Twizzler, but now that he knew this was a real possibility he decided that the moment he finally met the Saint, he was going to hug her feet and cry until she promised to fix him.
“Don’t worry. Grandmother will be here in a few days, and once she confirms you’re human and not a spirit that just thinks they’re human, I’m sure he’ll calm down.”
“But how can a spirit even forget it’s actually a spirit!? That seems like a pretty big oversight!”
“Well, they’re mimics. Sometimes they’re so good at it they even fool themselves.”
Disgusted, Hunter muttered under his breath, “Oy vey, method actors.”
“Oh, and in case you were wondering, your absence will be treated as more medical leave. Officially you’ll be at Kastri Hospital, doing an intense in-patient program in the hopes of regaining some of your lost motor skills. Chiron said he plans to send you a workbook, and hopes you’ll use the time to improve your handwriting.”
Great. Somehow he was still getting roasted by Chiron even though the man was nowhere around.
Hunter looked at Iphis and asked, “Hey, speaking of that bastard, do you really think he’s just gonna let that prince guy go?”
Iphis pursed his lips, pushing his dark blue hair back out of his eyes with a hand as he considered the question.
“Well… I suppose Chiron was right when he said it’s politically complicated. How much do you know about our country’s relationship with Hyperborea?”
“Ahhh… Not much, let me think…”
Hunter, whose brain automatically tried to turn itself off the moment it thought he was going to make it think about politics, ruthlessly forced it back online and managed to recall a little bit.
Hyperborea was the country that bordered Cydonia to the north. It was located within the Spine mountain range, and used to be a part of the Empire, until…
“Hold on, that’s… you guys misplaced a whole fucking vassal state?”
“It’s not like we did it on purpose. There was a storm.” Iphis paused, then helpfully added, “A really big storm. For around three hundred years.”
“And you, what, just thought they all died?”
“Well, most of the people who tried to get to them never came back, so yes. Then we had those earthquakes a few years ago, and… honestly, I think we were both surprised to run into each other again.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Anyway, thanks to the storm, they never officially left us, but they feel like they did. So we said, ‘We missed you, now come back home while we’re still asking politely,’ and they said, ‘You guys abandoned us for three centuries and that hurt our feelings so what’s in it for us if we do.’”
“Okay but… I’m still not sure why that made their prince attack my kid?”
He wasn’t surprised that Euphy got into a fight, only upset that it’d happened. She used to end up in scrapes all the time back home, although the frequency of that lessened over time thanks to therapy, medication, and a few less legal means she wasn’t aware of.
“Ah, well, according to your daughter, she stumbled upon him chatting with his fiancée.”
“You mean she was eavesdropping again.” Hunter sighed, rubbing his eyes and accidentally dislodging the eye patch he’d forgotten he put back on. Fixing it back into place, he said, “No matter how many times I tell her to cut it out, she never listens.”
“Well, apparently she didn’t like what she heard, because she confronted him, insulted him, and tried to run off with said fiancée, who just so happens to be the First Crown Princess, who you might recall is one of the four heroes.”
“Ahah, you’re kidding me! My daughter tried to rescue Princess Catgirl from a creep? Man, I bet she loved that.”
“She seemed to think it was going well until the Prince started throwing fireballs at both of them.”
“Really? I can understand why he’d wanna fight Euphy, she inherited my mouth, but what’s he got against his girlfriend?”
“I’m not sure if it’s against her personally… I think it’s more that he’s young, stupid, and under a phenomenal amount of stress.”
“How so?”
“When we signed the initial treaty, to discourage his family from changing their minds, we demanded they send the groom over early. Until he actually marries the Princess, his status here is unstable, he’s forbidden from returning home, and a lot of powerful people are trying anything they can to make the engagement fail. He’s also under pressure from his homeland, since any mistake he makes could mean a civil war, although… I suppose they’d call it an invasion.”
Hunter thought that explanation contained a surprising amount of empathy from the same guy who’d stuck this kid in a death loop, but okay.
“So, wait… he’s a prince, but he’s also a political hostage?”
“Essentially. In fact, he wasn’t the one they were planning to marry off at all—his elder brother, the original groom, was assassinated not long after crossing the border, so this one was sent to replace him.”
“And… you guys are surprised this engagement thing isn’t working out? How old is he, anyway?”
“Not sure exactly, I only remember that he’s close to your daughter’s age.”
That’d put the kid somewhere between eighteen-ish and twenty-ish, right?
Hunter frowned, thinking about it.
Man, talk about a fucked up situation to be in at such a young age.
Too bad it didn't change the fact that this guy had tried to set his daughter and her friend on fire.
He had no intention of forgiving that, and furthermore, letting this kid off just because he was having a hard time would only teach him that he could weaponize his misfortune to avoid consequences in the future.
Hunter decided he needed to look into things himself. If the Prince had just been lashing out because of stress, that was still very bad, but not quite the same as deliberately trying to kill someone. If it was the former, maybe there was still a chance for this jerk to change. If it was the latter, then he’d burn that bridge once he’d crossed it.
“Hey, once I’m back to being President, I’ll handle the follow-up with him.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“‘Coz this is about my kid and my students, I deserve to have a say.”
“Are you sure you don't just pity him, now that you’ve heard the context? Perhaps you, like Chiron, worry I went too far?”
“I didn’t say that—”
Hunter stopped himself. Experiencing a subtle feeling that something was wrong, he took a closer look at Iphis.
Considering how fired up this maniac had been earlier, it was a little weird how calm he was now. Between his neutral expression and casual tone of voice, Hunter was getting the impression that, no matter how he responded, Iphis wouldn’t judge him.
… Bullshit.
“You little fucker… You’re testing me, aren’t you?”
The confusion he’d felt earlier at the sympathetic way Iphis had been explaining the Prince’s situation suddenly made sense. This prick had been framing things like that deliberately, just to see how Hunter would react.
“I’m just asking for your opinion.”
“No, you’re fucking not! Who are you doing this for? Euphy, yourself, or… no, I bet it’s both, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you think you’re making a lot of assumptions?”
“I am, because I’m right, so you can drop the act,” Hunter said, letting out a laugh. “Look, you want my opinion? Politics and a sob story don’t change shit, the safety of my daughter is my top priority.”
“I see,” Iphis smiled apologetically and admitted, “It’s nothing personal, you know—I’ve just found that there are a lot of parents who are only willing to stand up for their children when it’s easy, or when it makes them look good.”
Hunter nodded in agreement. As annoying as it was to have someone try to manipulate him, in this case he wasn’t offended. On the contrary, he was glad to see that Iphis wasn’t willing to take anyone’s motivations towards Euphy at face value.
“True, but let me guess… Your angle is, most of the people who know this side of you think you’re a loose cannon?”
Iphis’ expression didn’t change much as he lowered those dark lashes of his. “And you don’t?”
“Heh, I’m sure you have your moments, but if you hadn’t been thinking ahead you’d have either killed the guy or made sure he lost his mind for good,” Hunter replied, proudly lifting his chin as though this was a test he already knew he’d aced. “I think you went exactly as far as you knew you could get away with.”
Iphis’ smile widened, his eyes curving into crescents as he said, “See, this is why I like you.”
“Yeah? What’s my score?”
“Top marks.”
“‘Course it is,” Hunter said, so pleased with himself that he got a bounce in his step.
“I can’t help but think you’ve noticed an awful lot about me, for someone who claims they aren’t interested.”
“Nah, I just know your type.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
Hunter frowned, stroking his chin and creasing his eyebrows like he was giving this intense consideration, and then gravely declared, “A meshugener.”1a crazy person
Iphis tilted his head like a dog, blinking a few times, and asked, “What does ‘mahshuganuh’ mean?”
“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you? Use context clues.”
“… ‘Good-looking?’”
“Nevermind, I take back the ‘smart’ thing.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve been making a list of words you’ve said that I don’t understand. For example, ‘spekops, digitahl, printars…’“
Hunter gave him a suspicious look and asked, “Why would you do that?”
“Well…” Iphis cleared his throat, radiating an aura of casual innocence that set Hunter’s bullshit alarms off. “Because I like learning about other worlds? I guess you could say it’s a special interest of mine.”
“Oh my God, is that why you’re so invested in this house arrest thing?”
“Not exactly… I mean, I planned to ask you regardless of where you ended up… I just heard that the President’s Suite is very nice…”
Well, that did it. Now he definitely wasn’t going to tell this jerk anything!
“So you’re going to freeload off my apartment and exploit me for information? How is that better?”
“It’s not like I’m not giving you things as well… I’m just interested in other cultures, what’s wrong with that?”
Hunter scoffed in disgust and said, “What’s wrong? You look like the kinda guy who’d stuff me in a locker, but you’re actually a nerd! No, worse, you’re a sociology nerd! Don’t you have any sense of shame?”
“Ah…. Not usually?”
“I bet you like linguistics, too.”
“Yes! Very much so.”
In the distance bells began to toll the dawn hour, and overhead distant flashes of lightning and darkening clouds signaled that the storm was thinking of picking back up. Hunter felt something brush the skin on the back of his neck and assumed it was rain, but when he glanced up he realized it wasn’t water falling, but light.
It drifted like snow towards them, floating sideways on the wind before finally vanishing into the ground. Some motes were as small as specks of dust, but others were the size of petals, and as one of the bigger ones drifted by him, Hunter grabbed it out of reflex.
For a moment it glowed in his hand, shining a color somewhere between orange and gold. Then it seemed to melt into his skin, and Ianthe’s memories informed him that it was condensed mana, and that storms sometimes kicked it up.
He noticed, too, that most of the plants around them had begun to faintly glow as well, as though they were reacting to the phenomenon.
“Great, more weird shit… at least it’s beautiful, I guess,” Hunter mumbled, unhappily swatting at a few motes of mana and sending them spinning.
Unlike Hunter, who was mostly ignoring the light, Iphis seemed to be attracting it on purpose. The brightly glowing flakes mobbed him like a pack of fireflies, vanishing as soon as they touched his body only to immediately be replaced by more.
Feeling curious, Hunter tried to draw them towards himself as well. It felt a little bit like sucking in a breath of air, and as he did, he steadily began to feel more energetic and refreshed.
He considered the past few days, and realized that though he’d been unconsciously absorbing small amounts of mana all along, that hadn’t given him anywhere near enough to fill this body’s need for it. Apparently, like taking in food and water, consuming mana was a task he had to do regularly to feel healthy.
Huh. In the Torah, manna had been a kind of food, hadn’t it?
The weird thing was, it did sorta of feel like he was eating something, only the mouth he was using was invisible…
“I’m never gonna get used to this creepy fucking place,” Hunter said, cutting off his intake of mana and deciding that some metaphors weren’t worth it, no matter how accurate.
“I don’t know, I think you’re doing well so far.”
“Hey, don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m being serious,” Iphis insisted, still lit up like a human Christmas tree.
“How? How can you think that?” Hunter asked, throwing his arms up in a frustrated gesture that tossed about a few floating mana flakes, “All I’ve done since I’ve gotten here is fuck up! I even got captured by you assholes!”
Iphis looked at him with surprise, then smiled and said, “I see. You’re the type of person who never gives themselves enough credit, aren’t you?”
Feeling defensive, Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “Fuck off, you don’t know shit about me.”
“I know that despite dealing with a new world and a new, injured body, it only took you two days to find your daughter and join the people supporting her, right? Is that not what you wanted? Perhaps you have other motivations I’m unaware of?”
Well, when he put it like that…
Then yes, technically Iphis was right. Finding Euphy and figuring out a way to keep her safe had been his two biggest goals since he’d come here, and he had arguably accomplished them both.
“No, but—”
“In fact, not only did your arrival turn one of your daughter's biggest enemies into an ally, but you’ve already used Ianthe’s fortune to support Euphy and the heroes via a cohort. If anything, I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond.”
Hunter’s ears reddened, embarrassed by the unexpected praise.
Considering how much he’d been struggling, it felt nice to hear someone else acknowledge what little he’d managed to do.
If only that person had been anyone other than Iphis.
“Yeah, but I basically failed my way into all of that…”
“So? A successful failure is still a success. Honestly, if all you’d done instead was lock yourself in a room and cry all weekend, I don’t think anyone could have blamed you.”
Hunter still wanted to argue, but if he kept protesting it’d look like he was fishing for compliments, so he sighed and gave up.
Reluctantly feeling better but also annoyed that Iphis was the one who’d reassured him, Hunter muttered, “… I guess.”
“Since you agree, why don’t you cut yourself a little slack? If you aren’t sure how, I’ve got suggestions.”
One hundred percent sure that none of those suggestions would be appropriate, Hunter waved him away and replied, “Oh, piss off. Who are you, my therapist?”
At this, Hunter belatedly recalled that business card Iphis had given him yesterday.
No way, this guy didn’t actually work as a counselor, did he? Sure, he was way more emotionally sensitive than most lunatics, but...
If anything, wasn’t that more terrifying?
“If I say yes, would you talk to me about your feelings?”
“Not a chance in hell. Knowing you, I’d probably get kidnapped again just so you could get more sessions.”
“No, that’d be unethical. I’d only kidnap you again if it was necessary.”
Hunter examined Iphis’ surprisingly sincere expression and wondered if anyone had ever bothered to explain to this man what the word ‘unethical’ actually meant.
“Hey, here’s a new rule for us… no kidnapping at all, period.”
“Each other, or anybody ever?”
… Okay, considering they had to deal with magical cultists, the latter was probably an unreasonable ask for both of them.
“No kidnapping friends,” Hunter clarified.
“We’re friends now?” Iphis asked and, between the glowing mana he was attracting and the joy on his face, he shone so brightly that Hunter had to look away.
“If it means you won’t abduct me again, then yes.”
“Ahh, this is great!” Iphis said, obnoxiously sparkling as he clapped his hands together. “You know, I was pretty bummed out that I wasn’t going to get to kill Ianthe, but I think having you here actually makes up for that?”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, you’re so much livelier than she was… ahh, and funnier, too.”
“How exactly am I funny? You don’t get any of my references, at least half my humor must be wasted on you.”
Hunter met Iphis’ gaze with his own, his expression dry. He was pretty sure Iphis found him funny less as a person and more as a cute animal that kept doing stupid things, but he wanted to see if he’d admit it.
Iphis, who’d decided this was an appropriate time to stop glowing, pressed his lips into a thin line and averted his eyes in an attempt to hide the truth. Ignoring the question, he instead suggested, “Wouldn’t I get more of your humor if you told me more about your world?”
“I’m not falling for it.”
”I’m serious! Or, failing that, don’t you have a bunch of Ianthe’s memories? Just reference those.”
Hunter considered this, then shook his head. “I do, but… those memories are fake, they don’t count.”
Confused, Iphis asked, “But they’re really her memories, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, that’s not the problem… hold on a second, let me think of something,” Hunter said, rubbing his forehead as he manually rifled through Ianthe’s knowledge. “Okay, if I say that coming here’s been so difficult that I wonder if it’d be ‘better to fall in the light than keep struggling in the dark,’ what do you think of?”
The quote he’d chosen was from an ancient Cydonian classic, anyone with some level of formal education here would have heard of it, so Iphis’ concerned reaction was immediate, his brows creasing together as he asked, “You… you don’t actually mean that, do you?”
“No, it’s just an example.”
Looking like he wasn’t entirely sure he believed him, Iphis replied, “Well then… I guess I think of the play it’s from, The Seven Buried, and how the character who said it was driven to despair by the endless darkness of the ruin he was trapped in, and chose to die in the jaws of a monster using light to hunt rather than keep searching for a way out. I would also think about how people reference it when someone makes a choice that harms themselves because they can no longer endure the alternative.”
“Right? That's what most people here would think,” Hunter said, then mimed holding a book in his hands and continued, “But Iphis, I’ve never read or seen that play. If you’d said that line to me, maybe I’d have recognized it, but I would have had to think about it, and the knowledge would be coming from someone else. Even if I remember Ianthe’s life, I never actually lived it.”
“Oh, I see.” Iphis frowned, tilting his head. “Demons and spirits never seem to mind that sort of thing, but I think if someone else’s memories got dumped into my brain, I’d be bothered too.”
“Exactly. I mean, I get that knowing what she does is valuable, but it’s also uncomfortable, like my new body came pre-loaded with a replicant-style identity crisis. Say, let’s do another—if I say I feel like ‘a stranger in a strange land,’ what do you think of?”
Now Iphis paused and thought for a while, but unable to come up with anything, he shrugged and answered, “I think you sound homesick.”
“Well, true, but not just that. To me it’s also the title of a book I stumbled on in some dingy little second-hand shop when I was a kid, about some freaky guy who’s raised on the wrong planet. I remember I only picked it up in the first place ‘coz I thought I recognized that line from a story in an even older book my grandfather read to me, about an unfortunate fellow who spent his whole life looking for a home he could belong to only to die when he was finally in sight of it...”
Hunter trailed off, a little surprised by how bittersweet those memories now felt.
“Iphis, that stuff is real to me, but here those stories don’t exist, and I…”
They were just books, they weren’t even his favorite books, but he’d never be able to read them again, and the same went for all the literature and art and music and history that existed alongside them. All that remained was fragmented and half-remembered, scraps that could never compare to what they’d been or what they’d represented.
“How do I get over that?”
In the silence that followed, the wind picked up again, and the susuration of shaking leaves filled the air with soft white noise. Something touched his neck again, startling him with its coldness, and he realized that this time it actually was rain. It began to patter here and there against the stone path, and more drops plinked against the strange umbrella overhead.
“In my experience,” Iphis said, wearing a subdued expression, “With a loss as big as that, you don’t.”
“Oh…”
Hunter frowned.
Sure, he’d have felt annoyed if Iphis had hit him with some sort of ‘time heals all wounds’ platitude, but wasn’t his actual response a little too bleak?
“But, I mean… in the end they’re just things, right?”
“Do you really believe that?” Iphis asked, raising an eyebrow, “Or do you just feel like you should?”
“I…”
Hunter paused, and chewed his lower lip unhappily. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what it was he felt, or even what he was trying to say. He couldn’t deny that he had deep and desperate longing for the way things used to be, but for some reason that made him feel guilty.
When he didn’t reply, Iphis continued, “I think it’s hard to quantify just what it means to lose one’s home. Survival is the ultimate metric we measure by, so missing things when we still have ourselves can feel ungrateful.”
Hunter perked up and pointed at him, saying, “Yeah, that’s it! Euphy and I are alive, so I keep thinking that ought to be enough, but other things just keep coming up…”
“Why should that be enough?”
“What?”
“Who made that rule?” Iphis asked, looking down at Hunter with calm golden eyes.
Avoiding his gaze, Hunter scratched at his left wrist, feeling itchy. He found that he didn't like how seriously Iphis was taking him. He’d much rather he say something obnoxious so they could go back to bitching about dumb things, and the longer he didn’t the more Hunter’s discomfort grew.
“Come on, you know I didn’t mean it literally. Then again, the gods here do seem kinda nosy, maybe one of them’s behind it.”
Ignoring Hunter’s feeble attempt to deflect things, Iphis pressed, “Even if you’re here now, a version of you has died. Do you think gratitude alone can heal something like that?”
“Yes? Maybe? It feels like it should, but I don’t know why.”
“If what you’re feeling was coming from your daughter, would you tell her to shut up and be grateful?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then why are you different?”
“Because I don’t…”
Ah.
Right.
The difference between him and Euphy was that Euphy was a good person, and good people didn’t deserve to suffer.
In contrast, it probably would have been better for him and everybody else if he’d been smothered at birth, and yet here he was, still kicking when so many better people had already come and gone.
That felt wrong, like it was a cosmic mistake he needed to correct by being as humble and miserable as possible until life finally noticed he’d snuck by and snuffed him out for good.
Iphis made a humming sound and finally stopped staring at him.
Hunter, who’d been worried Iphis might press him to finish that sentence, slowly began to relax as silence and the sound of intermittent raindrops stretched out between them. Visible now up ahead was the tower Ianthe lived in, and he decided that if he could just make it there without saying anything else stupid, then he could find somewhere to hide until he forgot this conversation had ever happened.
“In my work,” Iphis said, dashing Hunter’s hopes in an instant, “One of the most common things I run into is people making up reasons why they shouldn’t feel the way they do, and then using those excuses to torture themselves when they feel it anyway.”
In response, Hunter walked faster.
“I’m not saying you’re doing that deliberately, but I am saying that it’s a Sisyphean task,” Iphis continued, ruthlessly matching the new pace, “If moving on is what you’re looking for, then you need to give yourself permission to experience what it is you want to move on from.”
It took a moment for Hunter to chew that over, only to find that it wasn’t the advice that tripped him up.
“Hold on… ‘Sisyphean?’ Like King Sisyphus, the ‘rolling a rock up a hill’ guy?”
“Who else would it be? Unless… are Ianthe’s memories giving you trouble again?”
“No, it’s just… nevermind.”
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed some similarities between this world and his, but he’d been too busy to care and dismissed it as coincidence. However, finding out they both had versions of the same mythological figure felt jarring, like stumbling over a glitch in the matrix.
“Anyway, if for whatever reason you can’t be generous enough with yourself to do that, it can help to imagine consoling someone you’d be willing to extend that grace to instead,” Iphis continued, tapping his finger against his skull. “Brains are stupid, sometimes you have to trick them.”
“Yeah… they are, aren’t they?” Hunter agreed, stuffing his hands back into his pockets and kicking at a puddle. Then, he said, “You just fooled me again, didn’t you?”
Iphis appeared unbothered by this accusation and asked, “What do you mean? You brought everything up yourself.”
“Bastard.”
“Don't you think it’s better to talk rather than let things build up pressure?”
“Yeah, well…”
Hunter wanted to argue with that and realized he couldn’t.
“Whatever,” Hunter conceded, then paused and added, “I thought that card you gave me yesterday was a joke, but I guess you’re not half bad at this.”
Iphis let out a bemused puff of air. “Well, considering how often I help people die, I’d hope not.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes and stared at Iphis in suspicion.
Between that ambiguous wording and what was written on the business card, Hunter couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Hey, just checking, you don’t mean ‘by murdering them,’ do you?”
“You do realize that clerics are priests, don’t you? Guiding people through the process of death is one of my sacred duties. That’s why I volunteer at Kastri’s hospital and hospice in most of my spare time.”
“Sorry, my mistake…”
“Why would I bother counseling people I’m going to murder? If I cared about them that much I wouldn’t kill them in the first place.”
No matter how hard Hunter studied his face, he couldn’t tell whether or not Iphis was kidding.
If he was, then his deadpan was flawless.
“Oh, before I forget, Stranger in a Strange Land is the title of the first book you mentioned, right?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the other book called?”
“That… That’d be the Torah.”
“I see. Are they any good?”
Hunter, who’d gotten so turned around by the many twists in their conversation that he’d forgotten his earlier decision not to tell Iphis anything, replied, “I mean, parts of it maybe, but there’s a lot of wacky pervert shit that’s kind of a turn off.”
“Wait, which book?”
“Uhh… you know what? Both, actually.”
The rain decided this was a good time to start pouring again in earnest.
Heavy drops fell in sheets from the sky, and thick clouds boiling overhead snuffed out what remained of the light. Iphis’ ectoplasmic umbrella blocked the worst of it, and they managed to stay mostly dry as they dashed for the building.
At Iphis’ request, during the subsequent twelve flights of stairs that followed, Hunter shared a terrible and largely incoherent summary of both books. Unexpectedly, Iphis showed no interest in the freaky stuff and instead became invested in trying to understand Hunter’s religion.
“That book is about one god, right? Are there other books about the other gods?” Iphis asked as they summited the final flight of stairs.
“What? Yes, er, no, I mean—there’s other books too, but they’re all about the same God, although I guess some people would disagree about which God that actually is.”
“Oh, so it’s one god but He has different iterations? Like how the Lord Underground was the God of Beauty before he was the God of Death?”
“No—well, I guess Catholicism has the Trinity, so you could argue that’s sort of similar, but my people don’t believe in that.”
“Why? Is it like an insult? Are you at war with them?”
“Not for a century or two, at least… I don’t think?” Hunter replied, growing increasingly confused by Iphis’ own confusion. “And—look, for the record, I’m not sure I even believe in my own God.”
“That… I can’t help but feel like that’s kind of rude,” Iphis said, giving Hunter a disapproving look.
Hunter wasn’t sure how to deal with the accusation that he’d hurt Yaweh’s feelings by flirting with agnosticism, so he just rubbed his face with his hands.
How had he ended up in this position? He wasn’t remotely qualified to explain any of this!
“Alright, I get that your country has one god, but what about the other countries?” Iphis asked, unwilling to let Hunter have a single moment of peace.
“Well—yeah, I mean, other religions believe in other gods, but I think you’re still missing the point about my religion. We believe there is only one God. Period. For like, the whole universe.”
“You’re serious? The entire universe just… gets one?” Iphis asked, his shocked voice raising in pitch. “Is your planet… tiny?”
“Not sure, but the gravity here feels similar and everybody’s heights look on par, so probably about the same size as this one?”
“Then you just have a small population?”
“Last I checked, we had somewhere around seven or eight billion people.”
“Seven or eight billion?” Iphis whispered, stopping dead in his tracks. He looked at Hunter with the horrified expression of a parent who's just been informed their kindergarten planned to allocate one teacher per thousand children, then quietly asked, “… Are you all alright?”
Hunter wanted to laugh and say it was fine, but Iphis was staring at him with such tragic pity that Hunter choked this back and decided to fuck with him instead.
He replied in a sad, wistful tone, “Oh, you know, it’s not perfect, but… we get by.”
Leaving Iphis and his distress behind, Hunter headed to Ianthe’s door. He reflected that if one grew up in a country with lots of gods that everyone knew must exist because their magic existed, the idea that there was only one god for an entire world must sound theologically irresponsible, like a heavenly father who’d sired way more children than He actually had time to raise.
Hunter made a mental note not to bring up monotheism to any Cydonians again unless he wanted to give them anxiety.
He tried to put some mana into the door to unlock it, only to discover those damned anklets of his whirred to life and sucked it all away before he could.
“Hey, psycho killer, pause your crisis of faith and take my cuffs off so I can get this open.”
“Ah! No need for that,” Iphis said, still looking pale as he approached the door. He pulled a cerise coil of light out of one of his pockets and, wrapping it around one fingertip, used that to feed mana into the lock instead. “Remember? I stole some of yours last night while you were napping, sorry.”
“You and I are gonna have a serious talk about boundaries later,” Hunter warned, then watched in fascination as Iphis not only unlocked the door, but began scrawling glowing commands amidst the wards that flared to life in order to take the permissions behind them for himself.
Iphis caught him staring and smiled, so Hunter snapped, “And you’d better put my stuff back the way you found it when we’re done! I’ll know if you didn’t!”
“Of course, of course,” Iphis replied, then opened the door and gestured. “After you?”
Hunter automatically took a step towards the threshold, then stopped.
… Shit.
He felt his breathing stutter, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin.
Of all the useless things he could have dreamed about last night, why did it have to be that?
No, more importantly, he’d been completely fine in that little locked infirmary room, so why did the idea of going into a much bigger apartment scare him so much? He’d even been in there before!
“Are you alright?”
“Give me a minute, I gotta work through something,” Hunter muttered, leaning his arms against the wall and knocking his forehead against it.
It’d been a while since he’d had this problem, but it wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to deal with it. If he could just get his thoughts in order, then he could go inside and find a private place to run through a few mental exercises in peace. After all, this scenario was very different from the last time he’d been trapped somewhere, right? The only things it had in common was an enclosed living space, cuffs, and a crazy bastard who was behind the whole thing.
At that last thought, he lifted his head so he could glare at Iphis.
“Um… take your time?” Iphis said, unsure what he’d done wrong but putting his hands up anyway.
Alright, maybe he was being a little unfair. Technically it was two crazy bastards, because Chiron definitely counted.
So that meant there were only two things in common because this time he was in this situation because he’d died and gone to a different planet and stolen a witch’s body. Plus, the people who’d captured him were a bunch of secret agent priests who thought his daughter was a holy woman sent by an eldritch spider-Goddess who dabbled in video game design.
It was so different that it was almost completely unlike that other thing at all, and as long as he just focused on how absurd his current situation was, then maybe he could ignore the rest.
“Okay, I’m good,” Hunter rasped, then straightened up and asked, his voice mild despite how hard his heart was hammering. “Hey, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got a sedative on you?”
“Well…” Iphis hesitated, then reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a little black vial. “Yes, but I’m only supposed to make you take it if you violently resist?”
“If I punch you in the face right now, does that count as violently resisting?”
“No need, please just take it,” Iphis quickly replied, offering the bottle to him.
Grabbing it with a trembling hand, he uncorked it and said, “Real quick, no shoes in the house, don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink, and you can sleep on the couch. Oh, and the guest bath is down the hall on the left.”
He helpfully pointed towards the living area, then the hall, both of which were visible from the entryway.
“Hunter, is everything alright? You seem a little…”
Ignoring Iphis, just to see what would happen, Hunter took a step into the apartment.
Absolutely nothing about the way he felt changed except that he’d gained an imaginary countdown clock that read roughly T-minus thirty seconds until all the traumatic chickens he’d been repressing came home to roost, and then presumably pecked him to death.
In a strange way, now that he knew this was unavoidable, he no longer felt upset. All things considered, he’d been sure he was going to lose it last night when he woke up with a cuff on his wrist, but somehow he hadn’t. If he thought about it, the fact that he’d lasted this long was actually pretty impressive.
He thought, Good job, me. This would have been really awkward if we did this before we got here, so kudos for that if nothing else.
Then he downed the vial, wincing against the sedative’s bitter taste, and said to Iphis, “Hey, I’m gonna go have a panic attack in the bedroom so don’t bother me.”
“What!? Wait a minute, do you—”
“Nope, fuck off, I can take care of this myself,” Hunter interrupted and, without waiting for a reply, strode directly into Ianthe’s bedroom and slammed the door shut.