the girl is kidnapped again, but consensually

To be disguised as a human felt like permanently running a fever. Still, compared to the alternative—scaring everyone shitless at the train—it was a moderately less unpleasant experience.

While Sionn and Reem sat beside each other, he only really had the passing view as company, and with five out of six senses dulled (taste was the exception), there wasn't much to see, or smell, or hear, or...

"Mr. Demon."

The banana sure had a penchant for destruction.

"Hey, so, uh. Hello?"

He realized two things: one, that they'd missed their stop and, two, that Reem was a terrible pillow. Sionn sat up. Now that would've ended differently without the disguise. "Why sleep?" He asked, then cleared his throat. "Why did you not wake me?" With her noodly arms, pushing him off had probably not been an option.

While he covered the yawn with the back of his hand, Reem answered, "I dunno. You seemed comfy." 

Unhinged.

At some point, she must've dug for one of the novels from under the table that kind/forgetful citizens left behind. (Sionn used to leave Intro to Spacetime textbooks, but nobody read them.) Reem kept toying with the edge of a page. "To be honest, I did try, but you said something about bananas and fell back asleep. Dunno if it was a nightmare. Was it?"

"No."

"Because if so I'm... oh, all right.  That's good. By the way, we're in Sunflower."

Sunflower was the neighboring town, a good hour away from his castle. What a waste of time. He had Duties to attend to. Lots of them. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Next decade. Lots of them. Sionn sighed.

"Sorry?" Reem tried.

"You should be," he replied.

"Yeah. I guess. I could sue you but I'm choosing not to do it just so you know."

"If you consent, abduction is legal."

Reem opened her mouth, then closed it. "Whatever."

"Whatever."

There were Duties to attend to. Lots of them. Tomorrow. Next week. A century from now. Lots and lots of them. Piling up. Coming back.

Yet... was there anything stopping Sionn from taking another train? And another, and another, endlessly...

"We're almost at the station," Reem said. "I see you dozing off again, Mr. Demon."

"Sionn," he corrected. "Reem, what if..." 

"If?"

"Banana."

"W-what."

Sionn would've toyed with a horn to hide his face, but he kind of didn't have them at the moment. "Nothing," he said, which only made it worse. "I'm still drowsy. Disregard."

Soon after, the train stopped. They'd arrived at Sunflower's westernmost station. This town was relatively more civilized than Sun's Edge, so even its most remote train stop had saloons, inns, and shops, instead of a black and white forest. It was objectively less poor, too; most people could afford hats.

Reem wasn't even subtle about sneaking the novel into her purse. Annoyingly, she waited until everyone else left to get up. 

They got off the train.

He bought a ticket. She bought a ticket.

They waited. 

There was a delay, because of course there was. Meanwhile, work piled up, people died, or killed, or took a train as though running away from oneself were truly possible.

What if... they'd kept going?

"What are the other maids like?" Asked Reem. "Oh! Sorry. I didn't... wow, I didn't know people actually fell asleep while standing. Poor Mr. Demon. Do the assassination attempts keep you awake?"

Deranged. "Sionn, not Mr. Demon. Anyway, no. It's just daytime. There was also a mosquito."

Reem had the audacity to Snort. "So even you struggle with those, hm?"

"Even I, indeed." 

***

Speaking of which, they were halfway through the way up the hill to the castle when Sionn remembered the less... pleasant part of a maid's contract. Fortunately, by that point, they were far enough into the forest that she'd probably fall prey to sunk cost fallacy.

After getting off the station, the walk to the beginning of the hill took five minutes or so. The local commissary had demanding he put up a sign saying BEWEAR: DEMON CASSLE AHEAD as though it weren't blindingly obvious. Next to that spelling atrocity was a path the color of the trees, which wiggled its way upwards like a giant earthworm. Reem and Sionn followed its guidance.

"...so then she tells the cowboy that she'll join him and he doesn't believe her, obviously, but pretends to anyway, since he'll be closer to the bandit group and stuff. I stopped reading after that because you woke up. The author left a bunch of copies under the table at the train 'cuz she wrote in a note attached to the first page that nobody bought them so she's trying to get rid of them, which is weird, because it's pretty good so far. The book, I mean. I wonder why it didn't sell."

Almost there. "Could be a marketing ploy," Sionn replied.

"To admit failure?"

"To pretend to fail. Pity is easy to weaponize."

"Is that so... maybe? It's weird because it's the kind of thing the protagonists would hate. They would hate their own author is what I mean. I think she's just sad that she didn't make it."

"Yet."

"Yet," she echoed, with considerable irony. "Ah. I see you replaced the cardboard at the entrance."

"Door," Sionn corrected. Given his disguise, he didn't worry about tearing it apart by accident as he opened it; not only were his senses and thoughts dulled, but also his physical strength. By a few orders of magnitude. "Do not stray too far, and do not speak loudly. Other employees are asleep now."

"During the day?"

"Indeed. Their shifts are all nocturnal, like yours. Before they wake up, I shall give you a tour."

They—Reem—stopped a few steps away from the entrance to the right wing, which had also been torn apart by accident. Her eyes were so wide they seemed to take up half her face. "What do you mean, wake up? Are they here? Like do they sleep here? Like do they live here?"

Sionn opened the door. Nothing broke. "If they want to."

She sighed, relieved.

"All of them, you included, react the same way, yet most of them have chosen to live here during weekdays. You'll soon find that it is far more convenient than to travel up and down a forested hill every day."

"...ehh..."

They walked through the west wing.

They walked through the left wing.

Reem sat on the throne Sionn used as a decoration while he wasn't watching, then jumped off once he told her it was cursed. (It wasn't.)

They skipped the kitchen.

They took an annoyingly long detour upon reaching the restrooms, for Reem wandered off again. By the time Sionn found her, she'd rolled the sleeves of her shirt up, dunked her arms into the hot springs, and barely reacted when he loudly cleared his throat. "It's also cursed," he told her.

"...feels so nice..."

"Only I can use those."

"I'm not using them. Just testing them."

"You're fired."

She scrambled up instantly.

So then Sionn said, "You're not fired. But. Only I can use those. You peasants can use the small one. Or the stone bath. Lots of options. Just not mine. Thanks."

Reem didn't speak again until they'd reached his office, and it was to say, "I didn't think you'd get that mad."

"I am not mad."

"I forget."

"Forget?"

But she did not elaborate. Sionn pushed a box off one of the couches so she would sit while he readied the contract, but she did not. Reem entwined her fingers, looking at not him.

That, above all else, mirrored what all other employees had done before. "Reem?"

"Yes." She stared at the side of the room.

"Come closer."

"Why?"

"To sign the contract?"

Once she found herself before the table, Reem skimmed through the contract without even touching it, then asked, "Where do I sign?"

By then, Sionn's head was pounding. The human masquerade would wear off soon. Neither this, nor the self-induced fever, nor the bitter realization that Reem would soon act like everyone else, was helping his case, though as usual, he was by far the worst part: after all, he hadn't told her about the unpleasant part of the contract. With her so far away from civilization, jobless, and effectively trapped in a room, did Reem even have the option to decline?

He said, "A contract with a demon is not to be signed with ink, but—"

"Oh, no."

"—with blood."

To which she said, "I forget," and then, "You don't help," and then, "I'm sorry," and then, "Let's just get this done."

"Yes." She had been waffling about cowboys and bandits fifteen minutes ago. Now she avoided his gaze like everyone else. She held out a hand, then flinched when he reached out for it.

"I need to..." Sionn trailed off. "What went wr..." Did it matter? She was like everyone else now. "Please uncurl your hand."

She did.

"Take the knife."

She did.

"Make sure that the drop falls onto the paper."

She did not. Shockingly, Reem looked at him again. "Huh?"

Sionn tapped at the contract.

"Wait... the... so you won't suck it?"

"...pardon me?"

"My blood?"

By this point, the pounding felt more like hammering. "Do I look like a vampire to you?" He asked. "Just sign the thing."

"So I just prick my finger and let a drop fall on the contract and that's it? One drop? That's it? And like you won't lick it off or anything?"

"No, I—" He held his head. It was splitting. With how needlessly agonizing changing back was, he often slept it off. Or got drunk. "...I... the... just. Just. Get out."

"Oh," she said.

"Out. Just five mi... minutes. Please."

For once, instead of acting asinine questions, she complied.

The next time they met, it was as a lord and servant, demon and human, predator and prey and, most importantly, strangers.

She really was like everyone else now, frozen by fear...