It Belongs in a Museum!

“Is this your handiwork?” Midoriko asked, peeling a talisman off an old porcelain doll.

She sat on the floor of the study next to Xiǎomíng, Westbrook’s young protégé and a boy no older than seventeen. They were sorting through Westbrook’s extensive collection of cursed objects, documenting and cleansing any genuine artifacts.

“Yes. I try to seal curses to the best of my ability,” he huffed. Xiǎomíng held his hand to his heart, unable to hide a look of pride on his face. “I’m sure my Master told you I can detect curses as well.”

Xiǎomíng’s abilities as a novice Daoshi were indeed why Westbrook paired him up with Midoriko for this task. But Midoriko suspected the real reason was for the boy to keep an eye on her and report back to Westbrook.

“Well, you’re not very good at it because this is just your run-of-the-mill creepy doll,” she said, pushing the doll into his hands.

“That’s–” Xiǎomíng stammered as he took the doll. He tossed it aside like she’d just handed him a dead rat.

“You completely missed this genuine cursed object.” Midoriko reached for a bejeweled necklace that was giving off a faint, pulsating glow that went away as soon as she picked it up. The huge diamond pendant felt heavy in her hands.

“Hey! Don’t put that on if it’s cursed!” Xiǎomíng yelled, trying to snatch it out of Midoriko’s hands as she tried on the necklace in front of a dingy mirror. “I think that one was rumored to kill the wearer!”

“It stopped being cursed the moment I picked it up,” Midoriko replied curtly as she handed off the necklace to the flustered teen. “That’s my ability, as I’m sure Mr. Westbrook already explained.”

Xiǎomíng looked between the necklace in his hands and Midoriko, speechless.

“Make sure you write down that the cursed necklace was cleansed. He’ll want to know that,” Midoriko ordered, handing Xiǎomíng the notebook and pen Westbrook had given her.

The boy reluctantly took the notebook and began annotating while Midoriko resumed sifting through the collection of stolen goods. As she encountered more of Xiǎomíng’s talismans, it seemed the young Daoshi was operating on an entirely vibes-based curse detection system.

A mummified monkey’s paw, a shrunken head of dubious authenticity, noh masks, more creepy-but-regular dolls…

It was very hit-or-miss. He had been on the mark with some things–like an ornate, silver ritual dagger featuring a hilt in the shape of a demon. When Midoriko peeled off the talisman, a soft sizzling sound was briefly produced as the dagger was cleansed by her touch. But mostly he was just slapping fulu onto anything he thought was creepy.

“How long have you known Mr. Westbrook?” Midoriko asked, cleansing a smoky aura from a nondescript cigar box. She put it into a pile they’d designated for the genuine artifacts and motioned for Xiǎomíng to mark it down in the notebook.

“Five years,” he replied, quickly scribbling in the notebook.

“How did you find him?” she asked, sorting ordinary items into their own pile.

“I didn’t. He found me.”

This piqued Midoriko’s interest. It would seem that Westbrook had a track record of enmeshing other people in his insane lifestyle.

“Oh? So he kidnapped you, too? Shall we escape together?”

Xiǎomíng flinched and looked at her like she said something utterly outlandish and insulting. “Absolutely not! A-and it wasn’t like that at all!”

“Oh? So you came willingly?” she asked. Midoriko leaned back, propped up by her arms.

“Of course! How could I not after meeting someone as incredible and powerful as him?” With a content expression, Xiǎomíng held his hand to his heart.

Wow, he really admires that lunatic, she thought.

“I was working with a triad group to help pay off my family’s debts–they value individuals like me who work in divination and protective spells,” he explained. Xiǎomíng picked up an ivory figurine depicting the Old Man of the South Pole and sighed as he rolled it around his hand. “They worked me like a slave, forcing me to make protective charms for their men, blessing their murders and trafficking.”

Midoriko just listened to him speak, refraining from commenting on the illegal activities Xiǎomíng was currently complicit in.

“I hated it,” Xiǎomíng said quietly. He clutched the figurine as if drawing strength from the good fortune it symbolized. “But then one day I was told that someone had cleared my family’s debts.”

“And that someone was Mr. Westbrook?”

“He goes by Xī Hé Lóng in China,” the boy corrected smugly.

“Uh huh…okay…” She hadn’t even asked for that kind of information, and the boy didn’t even seem to notice he willingly let another one of the phantom thief’s aliases slip. What else might he divulge?

“Then what happened?”

“I went home but…” Xiǎomíng gingerly put the figurine into the growing pile of normal artifacts and sighed. “They didn’t want me back. See, I was the second son, which was one of the reasons they’d gotten into debt in the first place.”

Midoriko listened quietly, trying to do some mental math in her head. China had ended its one-child policy in 2015, which meant that Xiǎomíng had still been born within the period when families faced financial repercussions from the government for having additional children. His family must have taken a calculated risk, knowing they were having another son.

“Apparently, someone–one of my parents or grandparents–had worked out a deal with the triad to keep me in exchange for leaving our family’s temple alone,” he explained with disgust tinging his voice. “At first, I tried to find my sponsor–not to thank him, but to beg him to take me in. But he was like a ghost, so I went back to the triad.”

“What about Mr. Westbrook–I mean Xī Hé Lóng?”

“Well…He saved me,” Xiǎomíng said, smiling brightly with admiration. “Apparently, he had infiltrated the group long before he paid for my freedom, so he knew me. He was so shocked when I came back, he revealed himself to me and offered me a deal.”

“A deal?” He had done the same with Midoriko after he’d kidnapped her, but she had just assumed that he was just playing her in order to get her to do his bidding. Maybe the man was as good as his word after all.

“Yes! He promised me that he’d train me in magic if I helped treat his curse!” Xiǎomíng announced proudly.

Midoriko was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Westbrook was apparently a wizard or something, and now this kid was telling her the man was cursed?

“Xiǎomíng, you are far too loose-lipped for your own good,” said a low, velvety voice from behind the two of them.

The boy had practically jumped out of his skin. “M-M-Master! I–”

“My, you two seem to have gotten very comfortable together in a short time,” Westbrook chided, crossing his arms. He nudged Xiǎomíng with his foot. “You’re dismissed. Go see to your other tasks. We’ll talk later.”

“Y-yes, Master! Sorry, Master!” Xiǎomíng said, scrambling to his feet. He gave a polite bow in Midoriko’s direction. “Later, Miss Suwa.”

Midoriko watched Xiǎomíng scurry out of the study, leaving her and Westbrook alone. A clock somewhere in the room ticked, filling the silence.

“How is it going?” Westbrook asked, picking up the notebook they were using to log their findings.

“It’s going,” Midoriko said, getting to her feet and stretching. She gestured to some of the torn talismans littering the floor. “Unfortunately, the boy’s curse detection skills have low accuracy, and his cleansing abilities leave something to be desired.”

“I had a feeling,” he replied with a chuckle as he picked up a doll with a torn talisman still stuck to it.

“What is even the point of all this?” she muttered.

“A lot of these items are rumored to have curses that are said to bring death and ruin. Now that I have you around, I’d rather everything be made harmless.”

Midoriko cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. As she was sorting through these artifacts, a question was burning on her mind. “So what will you do with all these things? Most of these weren’t actually dangerous to begin with, and the ones that were are slowly being cleansed by me.”

“I don’t know…Sell them, I guess?” Westbrook picked up the cleansed diamond necklace and compared it to the notes in the book.

“B-but they’re stolen goods!”

“So what?” He tossed the necklace on a nearby table.

“They came from museums! You need to return everything!” she insisted.

“First of all…” Westbrook rushed forward into Midoriko’s personal space, sending her retreating backwards until she backed into a shelf. “Not everything came from a museum.”

Midoriko bit her lip as he locked her in place by extending his arms and gripping the shelf on either side of her. She had been quietly taking stock of all the items that she was aware had been stolen from museums, either by the phantom thief or others, and so far, it had been a resoundingly small amount.

“I steal plenty from the private collections of billionaires who probably don’t even notice when shit goes missing,” he continued, not even once raising his voice. Westbrook leaned in uncomfortably close, their noses practically touching, then lowered his voice further. “Not to mention all the things I’ve stolen from dictators and the worst criminals you can imagine. They don’t deserve a single thing returned to them.”

Midoriko swallowed hard and nodded to convey her understanding. The unique smell of his cologne filled her nostrils. He was so close she could feel his breath ghosting over her skin, and at this point she just wanted him to back the hell up.

“Second of all…” Westbrook whispered, pressing some kind of mummified animal foot to Midoriko’s lips. She recoiled. As she turned her head to the side, she felt the gross claws graze her lips and shuddered. “What I do with my collection is my business. Your job is just to sort and cleanse. That’s all. So remember that.”

With her head still turned away, Midoriko gave him a silent side-eye. After a moment, Westbrook pulled back with a satisfied smile on his face.

“What about this thing?” he asked, using the claws on the vile foot to scratch his chin.

“It’s normal.” Midoriko frantically wiped at her mouth and face, trying to erase the sensation of that thing on her skin.

“Hmph. Magical mole foot my ass,” Westbrook muttered as he tossed it to the floor.

Curses, charms, blessings, magic… It all felt too unreal to Midoriko.

“Can you really use magic?” She even felt stupid asking that.

He chuckled. “After everything you’ve seen me do, wasn’t that obvious?”

Westbrook snapped his fingers, producing a small flame on his thumb as if it were a candle before blowing it out.