Damn Potent Snakebite

I figured out why.

I’d cry too if I was handed plain bread and the person serving it called it gourmet.

After we’d reached the orphanage last night, Martha declared I slept in her personal bedroom so as to not disturb the other kids. I agreed with her on the basis that interrupting the sleep of multiple children in the dead of night was equivalent to courting death.

It was morning now—and with that came the need for sustenance.

Even though I may still have the Chills, just being awake and breathing seemed to count as “healthy” enough to eat with the other kids. Since I had no clue if diseases worked the same here as they did on Earth, I didn’t push back.

That’s how I ended up in the orphanage dining hall for breakfast. I felt so gross, I could almost smell my own stench. But since it was winter… I doubt there were any streams that weren’t utterly freezing.

And if I needed a reminder that I wasn’t in Japan anymore, this wiped away any doubts. People here were loud. Even the worst school lunches weren’t this bad. I think I might actually die of overstimulation.

The kids were tearing into their plain bread like it was a five-star banquet. From the looks on their faces, it might as well have been the most delicious thing in the world. It all got brought into context once I saw the lack of musculature around their bodies, which made it more than understandable now.

Mother Martha emerged not long after I sat down. She was beaming.

She had to be some kind of superwoman. The strength to carry on like she didn’t only get what must’ve been five hours of sleep at most was insane. And from the way she’d been ready to march out alone to find the kidnapped children, she was clearly trained too. A holy warrior, maybe?

But then what was she doing here? Wasn’t this kind of place way beneath her station?

Before I could spiral any further, her voice suddenly boomed over the room like she’d cast some resonance spell.

“Attention! Attention, please!”

The dining hall quieted down in an instant.

“You may have noticed that breakfast today is… rather opulent,” she said brightly. “But I wouldn’t bring out all this bread unless it were for a very special occasion.”

Some of the kids giggled. A few others whispered to each other excitedly.

“Every kidnapped child made it back. And it was one of our own who made it happen. Good deeds should be rewarded—so, I propose a toast! To the SAVIOR of POSTERIA’S HOUSE OF WAYWARD CHILDREN… COTTER DOE!”

Cheers erupted. Laughter. Clapping. Shouts of my name.

Well… mostly.

There was a quiet pocket at the far end of the room.

Beastkin, mostly. 

Alexandria was not among the ones considered still sick, for some reason. Perhaps being an asshole scared the Chills away?

A few clapped, to be fair, but the silence from the rest was deafening.

Was it me?

Previous Cotter?

The fact I was Crystal?

…Probably all three.

I needed to figure out what the Crystals did that was so unforgivable.

Even as I sat there with slightly stale bread on my plate, and kids around me cheering, my eyes kept searching. One girl deserved joy in all this just as much—if not more—than me.

“Where’s Daisy and the rest?”

Mother Martha was too busy tearing into her dough to answer right away. She chewed, swallowed, then said gently, “They can’t dine with us. They’re still sick, remember?”

I paused. “Where are they now?”

“Posteria’s Grace will reach them best in the Spirit Room,” she said, as though that explained everything.

Wait, that must’ve been where I was before the kidnapping happened..

“They’re near the old chapel outside,” she added. “They say Her Grace’s power was once strongest there. I intend to follow their advice.”

So her solution… was to put them back in a cold, isolated room that’s been proven to could be breached.?

“That room is a security risk," I argued. "We proved that already.”

“Its walls have been reinforced with magic since then. Standard-level spells won’t break through—you have my word.”

She looked away.

“We don’t have the medicine, Cotter. Or the ingredients. It’s winter. And we can’t afford the healers.”

A long sigh escaped her.

“This is the only way.”

No, it wasn’t.

Those kids were going to die if we leave them in there for too long. More than anything, I needed to protect Daisy too; not just because Malmitres might re-emerge, but because that girl deserved better than what life had decided to hand her.

And let’s be honest: keeping a dormant demigod in a good mood seemed mildly important.

On top of all this, technically, I should’ve been in that room too. But I guess being alert and walking under my own power earned me a promotion to “fine.”

“Alright, Cotter... you win,” she said at last. “I’ll check on them. Just for you~!”

This was more serious than she was painting it. I needed to help in the Spirit Room somehow, someway.

Before I could say anything however, Martha vanished into the corner in a jiff. 

As I said, superwoman.

Soon, I heard... crying? Across the table, one of the younger kids was still clutching their bowl, trying and failing to keep up their smile. 

“…I’m still hungry,” they whispered. “I don’t why… I am sorry.”

Their voice was so soft it nearly broke me.

Naturally, someone decided to lighten the mood.

“So! Cot-boy. The boy-savior. How’d you do it, huh?!”

…And this was why.

I had nicknames I didn’t recognize. I had history here, and none of it mine.

“But did it have to be Cotter, though? Maybe they mistook him for another elf.”

“Who knows with Crystals,” another kid muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

“Why are you so happy about this, Trace?” one of the salamander-looking beastkin at the next table asked.

“Because… our friends are back?”

“We all know this is the last batch of bread. Why not celebrate while we’re still in the same hall, recovered?” the beastkin said flatly.

Trace looked genuinely confused. “’Cause the bread would be stale by the time they recovered? I don’t get it.”

“Why are you trying so hard to defend a Crystal?”

That killed the mood. My side of the table fell silent in an instant.

“Bune’ari, s-she’s gonna hear!!” one kid half-whispered.

Who’s she? Seemed to command a lot of respect… or at the very least, fear.

The beastkin scoffed. “You think she can hear anything in this noise?”

Trace eventually worked up the nerve to answer the beastkin. “One: how could you say something like that to my face? Two: Cotter wasn’t the one who sent us here—maybe his parents did, but he had nothing to do with it. Three: he’s technically half-Crystal, ‘cause he’s with us now.”

Half with what? Another human?

My ears felt appropriately long...

“So what are we supposed to do now?” the same beastkin jeered. “Just drop to our knees and worship…?”

The usual buzz of the room faded away. Everyone’s eyes widened as they stared not at him, but at what was behind him.

Bune'ari sighed. “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?”

A dark-as-ash snake tail was wrapped around his throat like it weighed nothing. She was just… so long. So tall.

I didn’t even know muscle and power could look that graceful—especially when it was busy strangling someone. And her golden irises… slit thin, were locked on her prey.

I was looking at a bonafide lamia!

“Say you’re sorry,” she said coolly. Her accent was some weird cross of French and Arabic.

“Wait, Pip—gahkff—!!”

“Say it!”

“OkayokayI’msorryI’msorry!”

The lamia dropped the beastkin without ceremony.

The second he hit the floor, he scrambled up and bolted—slippers slapping tile. He even had food left on the table.

The lamia, satisfied, gladly took the food left on the table and finished it all in one fell swoop.

An awkward beat passed.

She brushed a strand of hair behind one ear, calm as anything. “Just let him finish a sentence next time, guys.”

The feast soon resumed, not that we would have deterred them for long.

I was about to take a bite from the soup option laid next to the bread when a tail slapped my spoon away.

“Hold on,” came the lamia’s voice. “Let me try it first.”

I blinked. “...Okay?”

She scooped a small bite, rolled it on her tongue like a food critic, then swallowed. Nodded once.

“Yep. It’s safe.”

“...Safe from what?”

But she was already dangling a spoon in front of me like I was some toddler. “Come on, Cotter. Just one bite~”

I leaned in, humored her, took the spoon… then immediately spit it out.

She burst into laughter. “Hehe! Stone-root overload! Hah! You actually ate it!”

I stared at her. She was positively radiant and graceful in the dumbest way possible—wheezing with tasteful glee like she’d just pulled off the greatest prank in the world.

But then… something shifted. Her laughter trailed off, and the light in her eyes dimmed. Her smile didn’t quite reach her cheeks anymore.

What was wrong with this girl?

She stared down at the empty bowl in front of her.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she mumbled.

“That’s a first.”

…

...

“Trace,” one of the other girls growled, “I’m going to bludgeon you.”

The lamia didn’t look back. She just slithered out of the room and into the hallway.

Taking a couple more sips, I clasped my hands together and gave a quick bow to my meal.

To hell with everyone’s surprise at my sudden actions. I shot up from my seat and followed her.

It’s a fundamental principle in business negotiations: never leave misunderstandings to fester. This misunderstanding was a bit more subtle than more explicit misunderstandings, but misunderstandings all the same. 

Something I did had upset her in some way I didn't understand.

Which is why I had to clear my name. ASAP.