Chapter 7:

the girl regrets her actions, kind of

if the moon forgets to smile

Reem stood at exactly the global average height for a (human) woman. According to a magazine, her cup size was also the most common one. Her hair refused curl, puff, or not look like a limpid curtain if it grew past her shoulders. She could use some exercise. Or sleep. She'd gone to a magic school for less than half a year before dropping out. She'd never gotten the best grades. She'd had two boyfriends she'd never really liked. Her hobbies included trying not to die and trying not to think.

When she'd run away from home all those years ago, it hadn't been because she yearned for more. The real problem was that she yearned for nothing. She was nothing. Her place in the world was as somebody else's commodity.

With this said, she'd taken a bullet for virtual strangers twice now. The first time had been by accident. This time? She had no excuse.

She woke up in a clinic. Her arm hurt. It'd been bandaged with what really felt like tissue paper.

She sat up.

She was alone.

Reem would've picked at the "bandages", but they were probably more... what was the phrase Sionn had used? More expensive than all of her combined? At least according to her insurance. So she did not. Instead, she sighed through the nose, lay back down, closed her eyes, and sang.

It took four songs and a half for someone to walk in—a medic, based on the archaic white robe and the lack of guns. "You're in better spirits than I thought if you can hold a tune like that!" He greeted.

Blushing, Reem sat up. "Uh... sorry."

"No, no! It's all good! If I didn't have so many clients today, I would've listened to you for longer." He summoned a chair out of thin air, as though it were a weapon, whereupon he sat on it. "Now, how are you feeling?"

Atrociously. "Fine. My arm hurts a bit."

"Fine, she says! With a tranquilizer like that, I'm surprised you didn't sleep for another week."

"Tranqui... wait, another WEEK?!"

As he spoke, the medic had her open her mouth, count his fingers, and other such doctor nonsense. "Do you feel faint?" He asked. "Your pulse is racing all of a sudden."

"I mean... for how long did I... sleep? I'm getting fired. I'm getting so fired."

"Four days. Do you mean a fever?"

"No, dammit!" Reem sniffed. "I mean my j-job..."

The medic dutifully examined her as Reem bawled, though he handed her tissues. Five unexcused absences... there went the closest thing she'd had to a stable job. She could've maybe covered her ass with the kidnapping, but not for this long, and definitely not with such a silly diagnosis. What would she even tell the boss? 'Ah, sorry, I felt bad for the human muncher that abducted me and threatened to hang me like a piñata, so I risked my life for him'. With her luck, she'd end up in a sanatorium, which her insurance wouldn't cover.

"There, there. It'll be fine. I'll give you a note for your job (ah, the poor fool thought those held meaning in Reem's field of work). You don't seem to be presenting any long-lasting effects. Besides! You are not alone."

Reem scoffed, though it came out like a cough.

"I mean it! We are always here to help, and your boyfriend has been showing up every day!"

They were 'always' there to help if money was in—

"Huh?"

Reem stared at the medic. Oh, to fall unconscious again. Great! She must've gone overdue on some bill while SLEEPING due to a TRANQUILIZER meant for a DEMON LORD, and now had a debt collector harassing her. Reem couldn't help it; she smiled. This whole situation was so... stupid.

The medic called out, to the debt collector, "Come on in! She's awake!"

He could've at least waited for her tears to try.

She had to say, though, that the debt collector could've moved to greener pastures if he wanted to. With such a height and build, he could've easily been be a model. If he'd worked at a host club, Reem would've hired him. She'd stopped going to those after inflation made it hard to breathe without going to debt, but anyway, back to the height collector: with his golden hair tied into a braid and such a carefully matched outfit, he less resembled a person and more an entity mimicking one.

"Good evening," greeted the debt collector. "How are you feeling, R—girl?"

His voice was jarringly deep for such a pretty face, and his smile was kind of off-putting. It did not reach his eyes. Against her best interest, Reem tilted her head forward, pressing her face to the tissue. "How much?" She asked.

The debt collector sat at the edge of the bed. "Do not—don't worry about it. It must've been quite a traumatizing experience for you, getting caught in a crossfire between a hunter and a demon. I'm glad a friend found you before it was too late."

"If you'll excuse me!" The medic stood up. "I have quite a busy schedule today. I'll be back later. Please abstain from using the bed indecently."

Reem waited for the medic to leave to say, "Are you Sionn?"

The debt collector replied, "Who?"

"Because you have the same face, same voice, same earring. You're just brighter and less... demony. Also, I saw you hit your hand against the doorframe on your way in."

The debt collector grinned, which was the least Sionn-y gesture yet... although his teeth were still a bit too sharp for a human's. "I don't know what you're talking about. But! Don't worry about the bill; it has already been covered."

Insane. He was actually copying the medic to sound less like himself. "Is that so... and you say I was found by your friend?"

"Inde—yes."

"Has your friend been visiting me every day, too?"

"Yes..."

"Is your friend also paying for my bills?"

"...yes..."

Reem almost stopped hiding her face. "Wait. That tone scares me. If your friend doing anything indecent to—"

"No," replied the debt collector. He kept toying with what was theoretically a blanket. "It's complicated. Just don't worry about it. Just pretend the last five days never happened. My friend requested for... told me to tell you that. Also, thank you. Sincerely."

"For?"

"For..." The debt collector trailed off. "Why did you do that?"

"Oh." Translation: why take a bullet for a stranger, nincompoop? Also, thank you. But not sincerely'. "Because... I dunno. Hunters use salt bullets for demons, right? So it's not like it would've killed me."

"And...?"

"And..." She shrugged.

"Are you unhinged?" Asked the debt collector.

"Yeah."

Human disguises weren't unheard of, especially for demons, but even though this guy was clearly Sionn, he also wasn't. But he was? "It would've killed me," Sionn the not debt collector muttered.

Now Reem just felt stupid. "I'm sorry."

"For saving me?"

Reem shook her head. He was mocking her again, wasn't he? The idea that a salt bullet could kill a demon lord who froze time but not her was ridiculous. Sure, salt was poison to them, but if it were so easy to kill a demon with it, then it would be banned.

Then the debt collector sighed. "On another note, I heard you might lose your job." He lay on the bed. He'd all but given up pretending he wasn't Sionn at this point, thinly disguised as a human. Without the initial faux-enthusiasm, even his doleful expression was the same. "As a token of my gratitude, I can assist you with finding a new one."

"It's fine," Reem said. "Don't mind it. I'll get one sooner or later."

"Better sooner than later."

"What happened to the gunslinger? Did you eat him?"

"The hunter? He fled. But we're digressing."

Funny for him to say that when he'd just switched topics out of nowhere. "Why didn't you chase after him?" Asked Reem.

"Well, someone fainted in my arms."

"You could've just tossed me somewhere."

"And you could've not risked your life for a cursed demon, yet here we are."

"For a person," Reem corrected.

Sionn glanced at her. Up until then, he'd only shown two faces: mirth, and melancholy. It took some time to assimilate the third one as surprise.

"Um. Sorry?"

It was Sionn's turn to shake his head. "What if..." he then lost the staring contest. "What if you work for me?"