I inch past the madman quietly sobbing on the floor, and put my hand on the doorknob. I push and then pull, but it doesn’t budge either way. Clearly, his magic is still holding the place down. Without much thought, I keep tugging at the handle.

  Eventually, I let go and take a step back, looking back down at him. I’m still at this strange man’s mercy, and yet I’m starting to calm. The reins of my life are back in my hands now, even though I’m powerless.

  He’s stopped crying, but now sits in silence, refusing to acknowledge me. I swallow my spit and doubt and begin, “Just let me out. I swear I won’t tell a soul. You can even keep on working here for all I care and never hear from me again. I just wanna go home.”

  When he looks up at me, my heart stutters with shock. A handsome pale face and long black hair dredge up some fresh memories. Could he be another…? No, if I stop to think rationally, there’s just no way. That’s too unlikely, too terrible.

  “Sit down for a bit. I need to think,” he says, shrinking against the stall to give me more room. Just stay calm, Filia. If I stay in control, I’ll be fine. Resting my shaky legs, I settle across from him.

  “I can’t figure out the right way to tell you this, so I’ll just say it. You can’t leave, not now at any rate,” he says somberly. His arms are concealed by his legs because of the way he’s sitting, but I can tell that the knife is still firmly in his grip.

  My life is already saved, and the experience of survival is sobering. Just a bit more work, and it’s all over. No, it’s just all over for today. It seems like every day of my life is bound to be spent in fight or flight.

  I think of every time I’ve been talked out of some stupid fit. This morning, the doctor tried something like that. Gathering my wits about me, I ask with a dry voice, “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know that you’ll keep your word and go away. Oh, I fucked it all up. If I could be found innocent before…” he allows his words to trail off, running a hand up his scalp carefully, brushing his hair aside to better stare into the void.

  I need to get him talking to find out how to appeal to him. So I ask, “What’s going on here? I’m involved now, so I get to know.” He speaks without looking at me, like he’s giving a soliloquy, “They’re going to persecute me. It’s a year they’ve been watching me at my home without a peep, and yesterday, she showed up at my doorstep. That witch told me herself, she would ruin me,” he pauses with a forced laugh, suddenly looking to me with pleading eyes.

  “The hilarious part is, I haven’t done a thing wrong, but that doesn’t mean a thing! That’s how it always is! When I saw you showing up here just a day after I did, I thought the worst, and now I’ve brought it upon myself.”

  I look away, finding myself staring into the mirror again. I cannot bring myself to think ‘why’, but a lump is forming in my throat. It’s not that I pity him. I’m not so noble as to feel bad for a man who might have left this place my killer. Then… I avoid the question.

  “The right thing to do is to go back there,” I say. “No chance in hell. What does that do? Nothing at all,” he snaps bitterly. “Then, where are you going? Is there anywhere you can even run away to?”

  He doesn’t answer, and I realize the question was a bit idiotic. Really, he has no reason to answer that. He’d be giving himself away. But, maybe I hope he doesn’t have an answer. Now, I think consciously that the man sitting in front of me is a mage.

  “Even If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to keep running. I’ve got a partner in my hunting business, and we are…”

  This is a ruse. I’m just going to lead him to Irene and she’ll deal with him. That’s what I’m thinking right now, absolutely.

  “...looking for another partner.”

  His jaw is clenched tightly and his brow is furrowed as he digests what I’ve just said. “Blindly following you to meet another mage. You think I’m a complete idiot.” I grab my suitcase, and push off of it to get standing.

  “Do whatever you want. It’s just an idea,” I remark, and head to the door again. From behind my back, I hear him say, “I’m sorry.”

  This time it opens, and I’m allowed to leave the cafe. It’s a blur afterwards, walking to the station absentmindedly. Once I’m on the train and settled into my seat, I think to myself that I’ve spent a lot of money on tickets today.

  A figure that has slipped in and out of my peripheral vision on the road is riding along as well. Everything feels terribly grey, and before I know it, I’ve reached my stop. I move painfully, and eventually turn down the street towards the concealed office space.

  Through the unlocked door and into the gleaming entry hall, a woman adorned in white waits. “You made it back quickly,” she notes with a friendly tone. I’m shaking with every other step, so to avoid crashing into her, I lean against the wall. She continues, “And this is?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  She refers to the man standing at the end of the hall, closing the door behind him. As planned, I tell her,

  “I’ve brought a mage.”

  The words that slipped out aren’t what I felt, so I wonder why. I want this a lot more badly than I thought, I guess. Irene looks past me expectantly at the man, waiting for him to introduce himself. He yields under her stare, and pensively gives, “Sylvester.”

  We sit in the same living room as before, a sense of relief washing over me. Beside my physical tiredness, I am overcome by mental exhaustion. I dream dearly of sleep, of quiet, and of peace. Irene seals an envelope and places it on a table, then turns to us. “With that, I’ve resigned, and as of this moment, we’ve become an agency. Now, a slight complication; I’m also homeless now. Do we have anywhere to stay for the night?”

  Just what I was thinking of. It’s time to end off the most interesting day of my life where it started. “Just one second,” I say, then draw out my phone. My grandfather answers quickly. “Yes, my boy? How are you?”

  “I’m doing fine now. Look, I was just calling to see if somebody could come over? My business partners need housing, so…”

  He doesn’t respond immediately. I quickly add, “It’ll only be for a little while. I’ve had the craziest day, I’ll tell you all-”

  He interrupts, “No worries, there’s nobody staying here now. You’re crazy, you know that right? See you soon,” he says with a chuckle. “See you later,” I reply and close the line. “Who was that?” Sylvester speaks for the first time since we’ve sat down. “That was my granddad on the line. We’ve got a pretty roomy house, I think that’s better than a hotel while we get an office going.” Irene nods. “Grandfather, you say? I think I might know who you’re talking about,” she remarks. I look at her with my remaining curiosity, but she refuses to elaborate. “Anyway, we should get moving. We’ve had a long day, let’s keep it short.”

  “Agreed,” Irene says, standing up. I go to follow her, gripping the edge of the couch as I stand, to little avail. Before I can say anything, I feel myself being helped up. Sylvester stands by my side, helping me carry my weight. We walk out of the place in silence. At this moment, I feel compelled to say, “I forgive you.” He looks up at me without saying a word, and we continue.

  It doesn’t mean anything, but it makes us both feel better.

  Home, sweet home. Doc opens the door for us after only three knocks, and greets us warmly as we step inside. “Hello everyone. It’s nice to meet you all!” I let my weight off Sylvester now to stand on my own and clear my throat a lot louder than I need to, then say, “I’m Filia, just in case you forgot.”

  Irene steps forward first, standing straight and eager. She begins, “Greetings. My name is Irene Set Fisher, I-” she’s cut off right in the middle of her Special Introduction, Docile quickly interjecting to say, “Fisher? Are you Urijah’s girl?”

  Irene pauses for a moment too long, and replies calmly, “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Tertias.” They shake hands, and Docile’s attention is drawn towards Sylvester. “My name is Sylvester. Thank you for letting me into your home,” he says. After a very brief handshake, we continue into the dining hall, where warm soup is prepared.

  “Dinner. I have a feeling you’ve gotten a lot done today… speaking of, my boy, where’s your suit gone?” I hardly managed to get seated before he asked me. I have my first spoonful of lentil soup, and embark on my story.

  Of course, I embellish the details just a tiny bit. It’s just a white lie to keep his disapproval at bay. No, I didn’t bleed to unconsciousness after the first encounter with the vampire. No, there was no knife to my throat in the cafe bathroom.

  Irene and Sylvester both play along pretty well, thankfully. Dinner ends mostly peacefully, and I need to get to bed pretty direly. As Docile begins to wash the dishes, I ask them, “Do you two want to go check out the guest room?” “Right” and “Sure” they reply, so I lead the way up the stairs and open the door.

  The room is decorated darkly. Black window curtains, black sheets, a deep brown carpet and a bookshelf made of a pretty kind of wood; walnut, if I recall correctly. Even the books on the shelf are dreary textbooks, with the exception of a few novels left by a certain repeat user of the room.

  Irene and Sylvester are looking at me with confusion and reprehension respectively, and I realize that I should’ve thought this through. I’m sure neither of them wants to sleep on the floor…

  “That's my bad. We could drag a couch into here or something…” Sylvester speaks up a bit more demandingly than I expected, saying, “No, that’s not the problem. I’d just prefer to sleep in a room on my own if possible.”

  “Well, it’s not,” I say with a faux sigh. Irene notes, “Well, I could stay in Tertias’ room.” That’s another solution, but honestly, I’d rather not. “Sorry, no, I’d like peace at night.” Irene seems to ponder for a moment with a blank expression, before resolving, “If nobody wants me as their roommate, I suppose I’ll take the living room.”

  On that note, she turns down the stairs, probably to canvas her couch-space. I feel a little bad. I refuse to believe that she’s upset at the two of us kicking her out, so to preserve her image in my head, I’ll say she’s just very considerate.

  “Good night,” I yell to everyone in the house. Docile shouts back, “Night!” from below, and Sylvester wishes me good night before walking into his room himself. I head down the hall and into my own abode.

  I drift into my own world. I’ve spent almost every night of my life here. I’m completely free to do whatever I want here. In contrast, when I’m outside, there’s a lot of things I have to do. I must quiet these restless thoughts of mine to stay in line. Questions I discarded return to my mind.

  My thoughts are finally my own. A wave of nausea overcomes me as I process the day. I fall into bed to ease my sickness. In my head, I’ve returned to where the day started, in that room far far away. I feel the perversion intensifying. I feel the dream’s end is approaching.

  On my phone, I allow a voice message to play: “I’ve been calling you all morning, where the hell are you? I don’t know if you’re away on some kind of business trip or whatever the hell, but you’re lucky you left when you did. There was a fire in the building around midnight, and your place got hit pretty bad. Just call me, okay?”

  I feel terribly ill.