Episode 1: The Smell of Lavender and Poor Decisions

I wake up before the sun, which is ideal, because the sun and I have a mutual understanding: we do not interact.

The manor is quiet. Perfectly, blissfully quiet. No notifications. No footsteps. No distant hum of human incompetence bleeding through thin apartment walls. Just the low creak of old wood, the soft flutter of curtain lace, and the steady, reassuring weight of my mask against my face.

I check the seal. Always check the seal.

Secure.

Gloves on next. Black, fitted. Clean.

“Beckett.”

I don’t flinch. I never flinch when it’s her.

Diana’s voice drapes over the room like velvet—smooth, composed, faintly amused. I turn, already knowing what I’ll see.

Black robe. Slightly tousled hair. That look.

That look that says she’s been awake long enough to judge the world and found it wanting.

“You’re hovering again,” she says, leaning against the doorway. “The kettle has been boiled for exactly forty-seven seconds. It will not contaminate itself out of spite.”

“You don’t know that,” I reply.

She smiles.

That’s never a good sign for anyone except me.

“I do,” she says, walking closer. Lavender and something darker—nightshade, maybe—settling into the air around her. “Because unlike most people, it does not possess the arrogance required to make poor decisions.”

I exhale quietly. Fair.

She reaches out.

I freeze.

She taps my mask.

“Relax. If I intended to ruin you, I’d be far more thorough.”

“…Not reassuring.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

She kisses the mask anyway.

I hate how effective that is.

By the time the twins wake up, the house is fully operational.

Persephone is already reading.

Hades is staring out the window like he’s contemplating the philosophical consequences of sunlight.

“They’re forecasting clear skies,” he says flatly.

“A tragedy,” Persephone replies, not looking up. “For everyone else.”

I set their breakfast down carefully.

Triple-checked. Temperature controlled. Contamination-free.

Diana leans over them, resting her chin lightly on Persephone’s head.

“My little vampires,” she murmurs. “Tell me—what horrors await today?”

“Group project,” Persephone says.

Diana winces.

Hades nods once. “They’ve already selected the loudest person as leader.”

“…Ah,” Diana says. “So it will be a massacre.”

I sip my iced herbal tea.

“Statistically speaking,” I add, “group projects fail when competence is mistaken for confidence.”

Hades looks at me.

Persephone smiles faintly.

“We’ll let them proceed,” she says.

“Of course you will,” Diana replies. “The best lessons are self-inflicted.”

Around noon, the first incident arrives.

It’s always around noon.

A message. Not from family. Not from anyone worth knowing.

A client.

I already don’t like it.

CLIENT: hey i need a logo ASAP like super fast its easy tho just make it pop and like anime but also professional and maybe gothic?? idk lol

I stare at the screen.

Then I stare longer.

Diana walks past, glances once, and keeps walking.

“Charge them triple,” she says.

“I was thinking five times.”

“Mm. Growth suits you.”

I adjust my glasses.

Type slowly.

ME: Please provide a detailed brief, including target audience, color constraints, and intended usage.

Three dots appear instantly.

Of course they do.

CLIENT: omg ur making this complicated its just a logo 😭

I lean back.

There it is.

Human hubris in its natural habitat.

“I give it ten minutes,” I say.

Diana pauses, turning slightly. “Before they contradict themselves?”

“Before they reveal they don’t actually know what they want.”

She checks her watch.

“Eight.”

We wait.

Seven minutes later:

CLIENT: actually can it be like minimalist but also really detailed and also stand out but be subtle

Diana doesn’t even look up this time.

“Payment upfront,” she says.

“Non-refundable,” I add.

“Obviously.”

By evening, the matter resolves itself.

They refuse the contract.

They go to someone cheaper.

They come back two hours later with regret thinly disguised as indignation.

I do not respond.

Persephone glances at my screen.

“Did they implode?”

“Yes.”

Hades nods approvingly. “Efficient.”

Diana rests her hand on my shoulder.

No gloves. No hesitation.

“You handled that well,” she says softly.

“I did nothing.”

“Exactly.”

Night settles over the manor like it belongs there.

Because it does.

We gather in the living room—dim lights, old furniture, the faint sound of rain starting outside.

The twins read.

Diana leans against me, her fingers idly tracing the edge of my glove.

I don’t pull away.

I never pull away from her.

“Another peaceful day,” she murmurs.

“No incidents,” I agree.

A pause.

Then, distantly—

A car alarm.

Followed by shouting.

Followed by something that sounds expensive breaking.

Hades closes his book.

“Neighbors?” he asks.

“Probably,” I say.

Persephone sighs. “What did they do?”

Diana smiles without looking up.

“Something avoidable.”

The shouting gets louder.

Then abruptly stops.

Silence returns.

Perfect. Untouched. Earned.

I take a slow sip of tea.

“Yes,” I say. “That sounds right.”