"Uh... I'm a guy."
The blue-haired boy was caught off guard by Stelle's out-of-nowhere question. His cheeks flushed faintly, and he answered in a soft, bashful voice tinged with timidity.
"A pretty boy!?"
Stelle's lovely eyes lit up instantly.
"..."
Misha's professional smile froze on his face; he had no idea how to respond to a comment that fell entirely outside the service manual.
Fortunately, as a well-trained attendant of the Reverie Hotel, he knew exactly what to do — ignore any bizarre remarks and stick to standard procedure.
He took a deep breath, held onto his professional composure, and tilted his head slightly up to look at the tall, gray-haired girl:
"I sincerely apologize for the unpleasant experience during your stay!"
"This is the Gallery of Thoughts, an area still under renovation."
"Under normal circumstances, guests wouldn't venture this deep in, but your situation seems... rather special."
Misha struggled to find the right words. "Please don't worry! I'll provide you with the most professional guidance to ensure you enter the Golden Hour safely and smoothly."
After finishing his lengthy official spiel, Misha noticed the gray-haired girl still hadn't responded — she was just staring, unblinking, at his... shoulder?
Hm?
Puzzled, Misha slowly turned his head to look at his own left shoulder.
"Huh? Huh—!"
The instant their eyes met, Misha's pupils shrank violently.
What he saw was a tiny brown mouse, one paw pressed against his collar, right foot propped behind the left, striking a leisurely, spectator's pose.
"A mouse?"
Misha yelped involuntarily, fumbling to grip the mop handle he always carried.
"Why would there be a mouse in the hotel?"
And one standing upright on its hind legs, no less?
The little brown mouse on his shoulder wasn't fazed in the slightest. Instead, it flashed a bright, sunny grin at his panicked face and raised a tiny paw in a friendly wave.
Misha: "???"
His hand froze mid-air, still gripping the mop handle. Misha hesitated for two seconds, then spoke, tentative and unsure:
"...H-hello?"
Caelus-Jerry nodded.
Then, under Misha's curious and bewildered gaze, the mouse suddenly rose on its toes and pushed its nose right up to Misha's face — at a distance that was, frankly, a bit too intimate — and sniffed a few times.
"Eek—?!"
Misha, startled by the overly familiar gesture, stammered: "Um... M-Mr. Mouse? What exactly are you... doing?"
To his surprise, the mouse actually seemed to understand him. As if by magic, it produced a pen and paper, scribbled furiously across it, and held the note up in front of Misha's face.
[Bro, you smell amazing~ ( ° ? ° )?]
"Huh? Ah... uh..."
The bizarre situation left Misha's mind fuzzy, and he stammered, at a total loss for how to react.
Where did you even pull that pen and paper from?
Smell like what, exactly?
He dealt with all sorts of bizarre guests from across the Galaxy every day and prided himself on being well-traveled, but this situation had gone far beyond any mere cultural difference.
"Ooh, Caelus-cub, Misha's a boy, you know. Have you gotten so desperate you won't even spare a cute boy now?"
Stelle clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide, then switched into talk-show host mode.
"Why does this pretty boy keep having nightmares? And now, the three-year-old Caelus-cub has done something outrageous — is this the twisting of human nature, or the collapse of morality!?"
Caelus-Jerry glanced at the Stellaron spirit, who'd apparently transformed into some kind of investigative journalist, lazily dug at his ear with a tiny paw, then rolled his eyes in a remarkably human gesture.
That look seemed to say: so what if he's a guy?
Cute boys are a precious resource, after all.
And besides...
"Caelus?"
Misha's eyes were full of confusion. He looked at Stelle, then back at the performance-art mouse on his shoulder.
"You two... you know each other?"
As if to answer his question, the little brown mouse sprang into motion — leaping off Misha's shoulder with a swoosh, landing with a plop on the nearby coffee table, and beginning a performance.
It gestured wildly with both tiny paws, then grabbed its own cheeks and yanked, stretching the little face to twice the length of its body.
Come on, seriously?
How did you stretch it that far?
Misha's eyes went wide.
The little mouse acted out a silent play, pounding its head and scratching at the air with its paws, until finally, with a stiff jerk, its whole body went rigid and it toppled flat onto the table, legs twitching once or twice for good measure.
Misha: "?"
Was Mr. Mouse... performing some kind of abstract art piece?
Stelle stroked her chin, wearing an expression that screamed "I totally get it," and offered her interpretation with great seriousness:
"Mm... I get it! You're saying that the renowned five-star grand prophet March 7th once said she felt Penacony was murky waters, that things here weren't ordinary — that there might be classic tropes like family betrayal, ruined households, life and death torn apart, rivers of blood, that sort of thing."
"And generally speaking, the first person you meet on a new map is always a hidden boss — see: Tingyun... Makes sense."
The hell it makes sense!
Misha roared internally, his gaze darting back and forth between the corpse-posing mouse and the mystic-charlatan Stelle, utterly baffled.
He couldn't fathom how this gray-haired girl had managed to extract such an elaborate, complex plot out of that spasmodic mouse pantomime.
Did the two of them share some encrypted brainwave frequency?
"How dare you, Misha!"
Stelle's little head spun with thought, and her expression flipped instantly. She thrust a finger at the utterly baffled Misha like a spear of judgment.
"I can tell at a glance you're not human — reveal your true form, now!"
"B-but I really am just an ordinary service attendant..."
Misha hunched his shoulders, trying to defend himself. "My job is just cleaning and guiding guests..."
"I don't believe you!"
Stelle cut him off flatly, pushing up a pair of glasses that didn't exist, a wise smile spreading across her face.
"Aren't you hiding a second-stage transformation, where at the end you tell us 'this is a trial' and rip off your shirt to become the final boss?"
"I would never strip my shirt off!"
Misha clutched his chest with both hands, backing away several stumbling steps like a startled rabbit, nearly slamming into the wall behind him.
The image of the free, great Trailblazers from his grandfather's stories was slowly shattering.
Replaced by weird, unreasonable perverts who were always trying to strip people's clothes off.
After exhausting an ocean's worth of breath, Misha finally managed to coax and cajole this scatterbrained young lady and her performance-art mouse partner into the corridor leading to the Golden Hour.
"Just pass through that door over there, and you'll be able to... where'd they go?"
In the corridor, Misha raised a hand to gesture — and turned around to find nothing but empty air behind him!
The gray-haired girl and her little mouse companion had vanished.
"Where are you two guests going?"
Misha searched frantically, and following a faint sound, spotted the girl and the mouse bolting off in another direction down the corridor like a pair of unleashed huskies.
"I smell a treasure chest. It's behind this door."
Stelle stopped in front of a lavish door with an eerie red glow leaking from its cracks, her eyes gleaming with a sharp light.
She grabbed the cold handle and yanked with all her might — it didn't budge an inch.
Stranger still, two lines of faintly glowing white text eerily surfaced on either side of the door.
[Front **.]
[Next, the hips are very useful, so a running start is required.]
"?"
Seeing the first line, Stelle tilted her head cutely in confusion; upon reading the second, she suddenly understood.
"Oh— got it!"
A glint of wisdom sparkled in Stelle's eyes. She spun around nimbly, turned her back to the door, bent her knees slightly, and thrust out her stunningly curved, perky backside in a seductive arch — then, like a bull charging at a red cape, she wound up and made her run.
Thwomp!
Her round, ample rear slammed squarely into the heavy door with a dull thud.
"S-Stelle... What are you doing?"
Misha, finally catching up, braced his hands on his knees, panting, staring at the gray-haired girl who'd just used her rear end as a battering ram, with a rather complicated look in his eyes.
"T-that door leads to an unbuilt area. It can't be opened from this side..."
"Huh?"
Stelle froze mid-pose, still bent over with her rear thrust toward the door in that ridiculous stance, as a wave of mortification shot up from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head like a physical chill.
"Pfft—hahaha~!"
Caelus-Jerry, who'd been crouched nearby watching the whole show, tried to cover his mouth with both tiny paws, but couldn't hold it in and burst into wildly exaggerated laughter.
He rocked back and forth, doubled over.
He pounded the ground and rolled around.
Stelle turned her head stiffly to look.
Being tricked by the door, she could tolerate!
Misha seeing her look this foolish, she could tolerate!
But being mocked on the spot by her own stupid little mouse brat?!
That, she absolutely could not tolerate!
"Laugh! What are you laughing at! Stop laughing!"
The gray-haired raccoon's fur stood on end, her pretty face flushing red with humiliated fury, and she lunged, claws bared, at the still-rolling Caelus-Jerry, determined to put this gloating little rodent in its place.
But Caelus-Jerry was nimble as a brown whirlwind, twisting his hips in a textbook, pro-level dodge that easily slipped past Stelle's clawing hands.
Turning around, he gave his own rear a taunting little slap in mockery, then, mimicking Stelle's earlier pose, thrust out his tiny hindquarters and charged the door.
To Misha's utter astonishment, he actually managed to squeeze straight through!
"Damn it!! You're not sneaking off without me!"
Stelle watched, eyes practically splitting with fury, and struck a transformation pose at the door, shouting at the top of her lungs.
"Henshin~!"
A flash of dazzling light.
In her place stood a puffed-up, bristling, fierce-eyed blue Tom cat.
"Meeeowr—!"
The blue cat let out a furious yowl and, throwing caution to the wind, copied Caelus-Jerry's move — sticking her rump out and charging headlong at the narrow gap of the door.
Splat!
A teeth-grating squelch rang out as she crammed herself into a cat-shaped pancake.
Misha: "..."
"Am I... actually dreaming right now?"
Misha patted his own cheek gently, sinking into dazed contemplation.
Crash-bang—!
BOOM!!!
Just then, an earth-shattering roar erupted from the unbuilt area behind the door.
A clattering crash like countless things being knocked over, followed by a massive explosion, and billowing smoke poured out from the crack in the door.
Bang.
The theoretically unopenable door was kicked clean off its hinges.
Amid the swirling dust, a blue Tom cat with fur bristling and eyes flashing bloodthirsty red charged out, madly chasing a mouse up ahead clutching an enormous pile of cheese blocks.
The mouse's face was lit up with the ecstatic grin of someone who'd just struck it rich.
Misha: "Ch-cheese?"
To an outsider's eyes, it looked like cheese — but it was actually Crystals.
And so Misha just stood rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as the cat and mouse staged a full-on brawl through the corridor.
The entire area looked as if it had been tossed into a blender, turned upside down and left in ruins by their reckless chasing and treasure-hunting.
Caelus's haul was impressive.
Penacony really was a treasure trove!
In this rundown little corner, he'd dug up a whopping eighty-six Crystals, practically excavating the place three feet deep.
He wasn't sure exactly how many Stelle had scooped up, but conservatively, at least half his haul, probably?
By now, Caelus-Jerry's eyes were filled entirely with the gleam of Crystals.
He was on fire!
Completely, utterly on fire!
He ducked into a still-mostly-intact room, transformed back into his true form, and threw on the clothes he'd somehow dug up during his time as Jerry — a printed black T-shirt and beach-style capri shorts.
Caelus grabbed Stelle's soft little hand and dashed excitedly toward the door leading to the Golden Hour that Misha had pointed out.
Behind them, they left nothing but apocalyptic wreckage — and a disheveled Misha standing amid the ruins, questioning his entire existence.
The Family's Dreamweaver in charge of this area would probably be writing a resignation letter tonight.
Light rippled across the doorway.
The moment they stepped through, what greeted Stelle and Caelus wasn't the bustling streets of the Golden Hour they'd expected.
Beneath their feet was a bottomless void; above, a brilliant night sky of drifting clouds streaked with a shimmering river of stars.
"Whoa!"
Hand in hand, Stelle and Caelus gasped in unison.
Below them sprawled a bustling cityscape at night, laid out like a star chart, endless neon lights weaving into a flowing river of color, the roar of all-night revelry almost tangible as it rippled through the air.
"What a picturesque view. Let's destroy it."
Stelle spread her arms wide, delivering the line in a flat, deadpan monotone.
"Stop torturing my ears."
Caelus and Stelle spread their arms together and began gliding through the air.
"Paratrooper One, ready to deploy!"
Like a perfectly synced pair of twin gliders, they swooped down toward the dazzling sea of lights.
The sensation of free-fall was intoxicating.
But the smile on Stelle's face didn't last long. As they drew closer to the ground, she noticed a problem.
"Where's my Wind Glider? Why is my Wind Glider gone?"
Stelle glanced at her empty back, her expression tinged with panic.
"Caelus-cub! Save me!"
"Special offer, 20 Crystals, no scams, payment due immediately."
Caelus's voice drifted over, laced with amusement.
Behind him, wings of teal feathers conjured from the Clow Card: Wind spread elegantly, letting him glide along in perfect, leisurely safety.
"20 Crystals? That's robbery!"
She'd just worked herself half to death finding 41 Crystals!
And this black-hearted Caelus-cub was asking for half right off the bat?!
Not buying it!
Not even if it kills her!
She was going down stubborn today, no matter what!
"Ultra transformation."
Stelle whipped her waist, spinning a full 360 degrees in midair, and transformed into her Tom form amid a flash of light.
"Aaah!"
Terror was written plainly across the cat's face as she watched the unforgiving ground rush up and fill her vision.
Pedestrians on the street had already noticed her as she approached the ground.
But flying people were nothing much to the well-traveled, ever-partying tourists of Penacony~
The passersby just glanced up briefly, and the elegant ladies and gentlemen went right on chatting and laughing.
But when someone noticed one of the flying figures suddenly turn into a blue cat, they stopped to watch.
What's going on?
The onlookers stared, dumbstruck, as the blue cat's splayed legs sliced clean through a large tree like a chainsaw.
Zzzt~thwack~crack!
By the time she finally hit the ground, she'd been bent into a U-shaped cat.
Like a shattered piece of porcelain, the deformed cat broke apart into pieces on impact.
The bystanders gaped blankly at the jigsaw of fragments scattered on the ground.
Suddenly, it all felt like a very vivid dream.
Caelus landed gracefully, drifting lightly over to the crater Stelle had left behind.
Phone in hand, he'd captured the entire scene on camera.
"First came Tom, then came the heavens; her crotch split a tree, defying the gods themselves."
____
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