I can't save myself, silly soul!

by Yasabisan

Summary:

Soulmates, oh sweet soulmates! Each and every person hopes to find the person destined for them.

Or at least, that's what they used to do, now that humanity has lost its magic after the war (War? What war?) soulmates have only become a cute fairy tale or an expression of love for the wrong person. And how can you blame them, if you've spent your whole life without knowing about the existence of such a thing, you can't expect everyone to give the deserved value to a word like 'Soulmates'.

 

But hey, what was that noise?!

 

It seems like an entire civilization of monsters has come out of the mountain! (And for some reason, it seems that somehow there are similar copies of each monster?!) What a scandal! The world is in panic, there are humans against it, there are humans in favor... While you feel something inside your ribcage pounding hard, trying to escape towards the mountain... In my opinion, maybe you want to see a Doctor.

Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

Humans-

 

 

Monsters-

 

 

Beings with enough reason to judge with their eyes... They've always scared you away.

 

The idea of socializing distresses and disgusts you in equal parts, although unfortunately, you have the bad luck of being born into a species that needs to socialize to survive... Therefore sometimes and only SOMETIMES, you feel alone... And maybe, just maybe you long for the idea of someone being by your side so you can tell them that you saw a cute little bird today.

 

But that idea dies immediately after you remember that you'll have to be emotionally stable to maintain a healthy and wholesome relationship, and let's be honest, we both know that the only stable thing you have is a schedule to water your plants... Also, ew people.

 

And as you look at yourself in the mirror, you can't help but feel disgust and sadness, because you know very well that no one would love you seeing you like this...Especially since now apparently small colored bone marks have appeared on your arm... Wait, why do more keep appearing?!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey hello, this is an idea that appeared in my head for a fanfic, because in other stories people accept too easily the idea that you are tied by fate with another person, and also there are few fanfics where introverted or shy people can identify, because come on! You can't tell me that you are 'Shy and socially awkward UwU' while you have friends and go out to parties! Not this time, in this story you will see firsthand someone who doesn't know how to relate correctly (Unless it's customer service, but we're not talking about customer service 💀) plus you will have someone with unresolved emotional problems.

 

 

(Another thing, I admit that I'm going to insert myself a little bit in this story, because come on! Not everyone can be born in a first world country with a stable salary and security, also, why do the protagonists in all the fanfics have a car?! I can barely afford public transportation 😭 so yes, you'll have the point of view of a POOR ONE ☠️)

 

 

Another postscript... I don't know English, so 98% of things are translated by other means, and I don't really know what life is like in the USA, so if you can give me details about how you live your day to day, I would be very grateful.

 

So question of the day, do you pay to use public transportation? 👀

Chapter 2: I can't mate myself, silly soul!

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Today the sky was cloudy, without a single ray of sunlight in sight.

 

 

I observed the blanket of clouds covering the entire sky through the small kitchen window before remembering that I needed to pay more attention to the stove.

 

Blinking rapidly, I stopped looking at the clouds and shifted my attention back to the instant noodles I was cooking.

 

While waiting for the water to boil, my mind couldn’t help but wander back to a particular thought... Monsters. They had emerged from the mountain a few months ago, and it seemed like the whole world had held its breath after that event.

 

It was almost as if all the disputes among humans had paused for a moment when, from the mountain, a group of children emerged—most of them, curiously, sharing the same haircut—announcing themselves as the ambassadors of all monsters, with the monsters themselves following closely behind.

Meanwhile, the government had to act quickly regarding certain monsters... Many of them were in terrible condition (some people mentioned famine, but that might be an exaggeration...). Other monsters were simply violent and a bit rough, which, as is well known, led many humans to generalize, immediately assuming that the monsters were a bad omen. As a preventive measure, the government launched rehabilitation campaigns and donations for the monsters while trying to calm the protesters, though in terms of human rights for the monsters... not much news was announced.

 

I remember finding out several days after it happened, when my "sweet and kind neighbor" (note the sarcasm...) Taylor cornered me in the hallway to rant about it. At first, I thought the hair bleach had finally gotten to her brain, but then she insisted I check all the news about it.

 

 

Oh, wait a second! the food is ready!

 

 

Quickly transferring the instant noodles to a deep plate, I seasoned them with lemon and half a bottle of hot sauce before carefully sitting down on a wooden chair, hearing it creak suddenly.

At the noise, I paused for a second to listen carefully to see if it would creak again, but after making sure the chair was still intact, I relaxed in my seat and began eating distractedly.

 

I returned to my earlier train of thought while recalling all the news, videos, and opinions I had seen, trying to figure out if the whole "monster" thing was real or not, remembering that I had been left in a state of doubt until I was able to verify it for myself when I saw my first monster.

 

 

 

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Living on the edge of the neighboring city, it wasn’t a surprise that it didn’t take long for me to see one. When it happened, I was looking around nearby businesses to see if any were hiring. That’s when I noticed its existence, for a second, I thought it was the best fursuit I had ever seen, until I paid closer attention and realized it definitely wasn’t a costume, but an actual dog monster walking on two legs.

 

---

 

 

 

I took another bite of the noodles, feeling the familiar burn of the spicy sauce in my mouth, while pulling out my phone to waste time on the internet, until a spasm in my arm made me stop abruptly, almost dropping my phone.

 

Again... It had happened again!

 

 

When the monsters emerged from the mountain, I felt a strange sensation in my chest, as if my heart wanted to somehow escape through my ribs. At first, I thought I was just having strange, continuous anxiety attacks, until suddenly, small colored bones appeared on my right arm and wrist area.

At first glance, I thought I had bumped into a poster at some point and gotten paint or something stuck on me, but when I tried to wash them off, they refused to go away, and more and more kept appearing.

 

I analyzed the new little bones with worry and unease. I traced the new marks, trying to see if they caused any particular discomfort, though, thinking about it, none of the previous ones had caused me any pain, and these two were no exception, showing little change compared to the other ten... That’s right, ten... Though, well, now there were twelve with the new addition... As I looked at them, I couldn’t help but feel worried again...

 

What did they mean? Was it some new disease released alongside the monsters? Would they keep appearing until they covered me completely?

 

Suppressing a shiver at the thought and feeling my anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I remembered that I’ve always found it somewhat difficult to go outside... If something like that were to happen, I wouldn’t be able to face any living being ever again.

 

I kept my eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what to do, while internally panicking, as I usually do. I held my breath for a good while before exhaling loudly, choosing to suppress my worries as I finished devouring my food.

 

Carrying the plate to the sink with the promise of cleaning it later along with the pile of other dishes, I slowly headed to the apartment door, regretting with every step not having stocked up on supplies when they were on sale.

 

I sighed, knowing there was nothing more I could do about it (besides continuing to lament, of course). I just stopped to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything before leaving...

 

 

Money? Yes.

 

Phone? Yes.

 

A piece of lint? Yes.

 

Keys? Yes.

 

Headphones? Yes.

 

 

After checking all my things (and pulling the lint out of my pocket, tossing it into a random corner) and putting on my usual face mask, which had become a habit of mine to always wear before leaving the house since the pandemic.

 

And smoothing my hair distractedly, in a vague attempt not to look like a patient who had just escaped from the asylum, I left the apartment, closing the door behind me and making sure several times that it was properly closed. Feeling satisfied after all my door checks, I walked away, shoving my hands into my pockets to calm my anxious thoughts screaming at me to double-check everything to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything.

I chose to ignore those thoughts as I walked away from my apartment, heading to the stairs, carefully watching each step as I went down.

 

Though I’m not sure if you could really call them "stairs," as I doubt they deserve that title... Many of them looked more like loose concrete and metal beams sticking out of the wall (many neighbors had to collaborate to constantly fix the beams; the wealthier neighbors were responsible for securing most of the beams to the wall with metal, while others used broomsticks as makeshift pillars in some areas). And, although you normally had to sacrifice your hand, which would end up covered in dust and grime, to lean on the crumbling wall as you went down (since there was no railing), I had already mastered the skill of descending without cracking my skull open (old Perkins wasn’t so lucky...) or ending up covered in dust or loose pieces of the wall.

 

After successfully making it down, I walked to the old main door of the apartments, opening it with some effort and closing it gently, trying to ignore the constant intrusive thought that one of these days the damn door would fall on me.

 

After surviving all that and brushing off a few bits of debris and splinters from my clothes, I turned around and started walking toward the nearest store.

 

 

Struggling a bit to untangle my wired headphones, I decided to listen to random music as I walked.

 

My shoulders slowly relaxed as I saw the streets were quiet, with not too many people around due to the cloudy sky.

 

Letting myself be carried away by the music in my ears and the gentle breeze that occasionally made me shiver, I began to observe my surroundings on the way to the store, following with my gaze the occasional bird fluttering around in search of food, or that stray cat that quickly hid when it noticed I was looking at it.

Shifting my gaze from where the cat had hidden to my main objective, I walked a little faster to avoid wasting time entering the small store, noticing that the place was completely empty except for the teenager at the cash register, who looked like every passing second was taking years off his life.

 

 

Focusing my attention back on the shelves, I began my search for promotions on food or products that might be useful.

 

 

Soap? Always good.

 

Shampoo at 10% off? Hmm... The price could drop even more. In the meantime, I could stretch the shampoo by diluting it with water to extend its lifespan.

 

Meat? No promotion, but there’s not much I can do about that.

 

Milk? I could buy cereal, why not?

 

Speaking of cereal... Where is it?

 

 

I searched through several shelves, looking up and down for a while, until, passing by a shelf I had already checked, I realized I had overlooked the top part... where the cereal was.

 

Facepalming at my stupidity, I let out a sigh that quickly turned into an annoyed groan when I couldn’t reach the cereal no matter how much I stretched as far as humanly possible.

 

Stopping for a moment, I tried to think of a way to reach it... I mean, I could try climbing the shelf, but... I don’t want it to fall on me and crush me.

I could ask for help from... no, forget it, I don’t want to sound silly for asking for help over something as small as not being able to reach a box of cereal...

 

I tried to come up with a plan while looking at the shelf from different angles, but nothing came to mind. I clicked my tongue in frustration as I used the cereal box to rub my chin, trying to think...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

???

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The box!??

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt as if my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets as I stared in shock at the cereal box, trying to remember when I had managed to grab it while instinctively taking a step back.

 

Letting out a groan when I suddenly bumped into something, I turned around to see... Pants? And a torn shirt that revealed... a spine? Following the shirt with my gaze, I quickly looked up further to see a tall skeletal figure, WAY too tall, so much so that it seemed to hunch over itself while keeping its gaze completely fixed on me, a gaze that sent a shiver down my spine and made my heart pound in my chest, something that had become habitual in recent months.

For some reason, its eyes (lights?) seemed to expand for a second, but it might have been a reflection in its glasses (why would a skeleton need glasses in the first place?) as a crooked smile adorned its sharp, brace-covered teeth.

 

"I FOUND YOU." the strange skeleton exclaimed, smiling broadly while never looking away.

 

I stammered for a second, too confused by its words, before quickly trying to regain my composure.

 

"U-uh, excuse me... I-I mean, th-thank you! Ah... I-I mean, the box, was it you, right?" With every word that escaped my mouth, I wanted to die from the embarrassment I felt at my clumsy attempt at interaction, feeling myself shrink with every passing second.

 

The skeleton seemed unfazed by my awkward stammering as it nodded gently to my words. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find comfort in its apparent understanding, as it continued to stare at me without blinking (do skeletons even need to blink?), but it still made me uncomfortable and uneasy, feeling like I was sweating buckets as it seemed to look right through me.

 

"YOU SEEMED TO NEED HELP, BUNNY." the skeleton said bluntly, though its words somehow sounded soft... wait, bunny?

 

I tried to ignore the nickname as I tentatively took a small step back, wanting to escape this social interaction as soon as possible.

 

"O-oh, w-well, thank you, y-you were very kind... Ah... M-Mr. Skeleton...?" I awkwardly thanked the skeleton, taking a couple more discreet steps back, almost hoping it would end the conversation itself.

 

The skeleton seemed to have the opposite idea about our conversation as it opened its mouth to respond, closing it abruptly with a click, the first time it looked away from me as if debating with itself before slightly furrowing its brow, quickly correcting itself as it straightened its posture slightly and looked back at me, seeming a bit more tense.

 

"CROOKS... THEY CALL ME CROOKS." Crooks introduced itself, not seeming too happy as it said its name (is that even its name?), but its posture relaxed a bit as it looked at me, tensing again as it glanced down and noticed the few items I had gathered, focusing on the food.

 

Feeling nervous, I quickly muttered my name (wait, why did I tell it my name? I’m such an idiot!).

 

"W-well, it’s a pleasure... B-but, I have to... Uhm, do something... S-so, goodbye!" I quickly excused myself, spinning on my heel to turn around and almost tripping as I rushed to the counter, throwing a couple of bills at the teenager and, against my desire to get change, hurriedly headed for the exit, feeling as if the skeleton’s gaze, still in the same spot, was following me and burning holes through my body as I fled in a hurry.

 

After managing to leave the store, I felt like I could breathe again, but I still didn’t stop for a second as I hurriedly walked back to the apartments, quickly entering and almost tripping on the stairs in my rush to get upstairs, until I finally reached my apartment, entering and slamming the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I struggled to catch my breath.

I placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart racing a million miles per hour as I slowly slumped against the door, wondering why this interaction had affected me so much. Was it because it was a monster? Maybe that caught me off guard. I tried to reason with myself as I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elsewhere...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IT WASN’T HARD TO FIND HER AFTER SHE LEFT.

 

I THOUGHT ABOUT TAKING HER WITH ME, AFTER ALL, WHEN YOU FIND SOMETHING SO VALUABLE, IT’S ALMOST AN OBLIGATION TO KEEP IT COMPLETELY SAFE.

 

BUT.

 

I’M NOT AS STUPID AS OTHERS THINK I AM. THE MARK HADN’T APPEARED UNTIL WE ARRIVED HERE... THAT MEANS MY BROTHER AND I AREN’T HER ONLY CONNECTION, AND SOONER OR LATER, THE OTHERS WILL FIND HER.

 

BUT THEY DON’T KNOW HUMANS AS WELL AS MY BROTHER AND I DO.

WELL... MOST OF MY INTERACTIONS WITH HUMANS HAVEN’T BEEN AS... 'VIVID' AS I’D LIKE... BUT I STILL FIRMLY BELIEVE WE HAVE THE ADVANTAGE.

 

WE ALREADY KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES, ALL THAT’S LEFT IS TO DUST OFF MY DATING MANUAL, AND OUR SWEET SOULMATE WILL FALL SO HARD FOR OUR CHARMS THAT SHE WON’T KNOW WHAT HIT HER.

 

 

WE JUST NEED TO BE CAREFUL, AFTER ALL, HUMANS ARE VERY EASY TO BREAK.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FORTUNATELY, I’VE ALWAYS CONSIDERED MYSELF A PATIENT HUNTER.

 

 

 

Notes:

Hey hello! It's good to see you all. Sorry for the wait for the new chapter, but I had to rewrite it from the middle because I didn't like how it was turning out.

Just so you know, her first meeting was supposed to be with Blue at a bakery, but I felt like a lot of stories started that way, and I thought, why not meet our craziest boys first?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

 

And here is the question of the day! What is the thing you remember most from your time at school? Also, how long did you usually stay in school?
Honestly, my time at school was pretty boring, but I've heard that in the US, more interesting things usually happen during school time.

Fun fact: Did you know that in Mexico there are usually no school clubs or lockers? Of course, there are usually exceptions but for the most part it is more common to carry your backpack to your seat.

Chapter 3: You can't buy me, Silly soul!

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The ceiling looked worn out... Cracks snaked across its surface, spreading toward the walls where the peeling paint couldn’t hide the passage of time.

 

 

My gaze clung to the ceiling, empty yet restless. I knew I couldn’t keep hiding forever, no matter how much I wished I could.

 

It had been days since I’d last left the house, avoiding any chance of running into that strange skeleton again and the unsettling feeling he’d left me with. At the thought, my hand unconsciously rested on my chest, almost expecting to feel my heart pounding against my ribs. But no, everything remained calm.  

 

 

I closed my eyes, trying to ease the headache consuming me from overthinking. Yet, my mind, in an act of self-sabotage, kept searching for answers where there was only chaos.  

 

I ran a hand over my face, exhausted by the chain of strange events that had invaded my life lately. Why couldn’t things just stay the same? Monotony, though boring, was at least predictable.  

 

I wrapped myself tighter in the blankets, seeking refuge in their warmth and comfort. For a moment, I pretended all my problems would vanish as I melted into the mattress.  

 

 

But, of course, reality always finds a way. A loud growl from my stomach reminded me I couldn’t ignore my basic needs much longer. Though the idea of sleeping and leaving everything for "future me" was tempting, I knew I was only feeding a snowball that would eventually crush me.  

 

I sulked, cursing my past self for procrastinating so much.  

 

"Well... a few more videos won’t starve me to death, right?" 

I tried to justify myself while distracting myself with absurd YouTube videos. Until one ad in particular caught my attention.  

I frowned, puzzled, until I processed it was an Uber Eats ad. Hmm.  

 

 

"Maybe I could order food and supplies to hide from the world a few more days." I thought. After all, my vacation was coming to an end, and soon I’d have to return to work. Ugh.  

 

I tried to ignore the dread creeping in as I downloaded and signed up for the app.  

 

"Blah, blah, terms... blah, blah, option to disable monster delivery drivers... blah, blah."  

 

Oh! A coupon for new users. Lucky me!  

 

My attention zeroed in on that 50% discount and free delivery, and before I knew it, I’d added more and more items to the cart.  

 

"Uhm... maybe I went a little overboard." I thought, but then I told myself, "They don’t give you 50% off every day, do they?"  I hurried to confirm the order before the total price made me regret it.  

 

"Alright... it’ll be here in an hour. Guess I’ll have to wait."  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And what better way to pass the time than reading lifeless people arguing on Twitter?  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Elsewhere...

 

 

 

 

 

Cash (POV)

 

 

Everything’s been chaos.  

 

Sans has been more stressed than ever, and how could I blame him? Ever since multiple universes merged with Classic’s (the original universe, go figure), everything’s been a mess. Not even the best joints could’ve prepared me for this.  

 

Ending up in a different universe, surrounded by copies of yourself and the monsters you know (forcing you and your brother to use ridiculous nicknames while pretending it’s not unsettling to see yourself doing or saying things you never would) is... distressing.

 

 

Especially when the soul mark appeared.  

 

 

I never thought a monster like me would have hope of finding a soulmate. That hope died long ago, when I was one of the few without a mark. For years, I convinced myself it was for the best: in a "kill or be killed" world, fewer weaknesses meant survival.  

 

Sans also grew up without a mark, but he always feigned disinterest, saying no one could meet his "strict standards." (Though I know that’s not true. Even back in the Underground, when we were still in stripes, I’d catch him reading dating manuals he found in the trash, clinging to a foolish hope that the mark would appear someday.)

 

 

But when we got here... something changed.  

 

 

The first to surface were Classic and Creampuff, followed by Blue and Stretch. Then came the more hostile universes, like Edge and Red. Their appearance alarmed some humans, which suspended the release of other monsters.  

 

Black was furious because even the Human Eaters surfaced before him. If my brother weren’t so busy, he’d go down daily just to mess with him.  

 

 

I exhaled smoke through my teeth, watching it disperse. I’m not a heavy smoker (that title goes to Stretch), but one or two cigarettes a day help me cope with the chaos at home.  

 

My phone buzzed: I had a job. Working part-time as a delivery driver (though most humans don’t accept monsters in that role, which means less work for me) is the perfect excuse to escape the house. The constant fights stopped being entertaining after the first two months.  

 

I took one last drag before slowly getting up from the pavement, brushing the dirt off my clothes half-heartedly. I checked the order on my phone and raised a nonexistent eyebrow at the amount of groceries ordered. A hermit, maybe? I don’t blame them; if it weren’t for Sans dragging me out of my room, I’d be one too.  

 

I crushed the cigarette with a phalange and pocketed it to finish later. With lazy steps, I headed to my "dazzling" vehicle: a bike way too small for me. A smile crept onto my teeth as I remembered the humans’ incredulous faces every time I arrived at full speed.  

 

Finally, I settled onto the seat, leaning back on my backpack as I used my magic to move the bike. I winked at a human kid staring open-mouthed from the sidewalk.  

 

 

 

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Is this the place...?

 

A drop of sweat slid down my skull as I eyed the building in front of me. One of the pillars looked incomplete, propped up by books and bricks. Ah, well, I thought, even if it collapses, I can always take a shortcut.*

 

I passed through the rusted gates and slipped through the half-open doors, only for my soul to sink to my tailbone at the sight of the damn stairs.  

 

 

Stars, how are the humans living here still alive?!

 

 

Sweating, I pulled out my phone to check the apartment number: 177. I quickly scanned the area before focusing on the door, taking a shortcut to appear right in front of it. I didn’t want to risk turning to dust from a misstep.  

 

Suddenly, my soul slammed against my ribs, making me stumble and hit my skull against the door. With a grunt of pain, I rubbed my head while placing a hand on my chest, confused, until the sound of the door opening made me look up.  

 

 

 

 

 

Oh...  

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’ve got to be kidding me.  

 

 

 

 

 

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Your POV

 

 

 

The sound of a knock echoed through the apartment, making me jump and stop in my tracks toward the door. My shoulders tensed as I quickly checked my phone, which showed the delivery driver had arrived... Ah, maybe they’re carrying so much stuff they can’t knock properly. I started feeling guilty and embarrassed for everything I’d ordered, hurrying to open the door to end the poor driver’s ordeal.  

 

A thud in my chest was the first thing I felt as I opened the door. I instinctively placed a hand over my heart, letting out a surprised gasp. The confusion faded as I looked up and saw the delivery driver.  

 

 

It was another skeleton.  

 

 

The first thing I noticed was his height. He wasn’t as tall as Crooks, but he somehow resembled him. He wore a dark violet sweater and looked tired, with dark circles under his eye sockets (how does a skeleton even have dark circles, anyway?). Plus, he was slouching, one bony hand resting on his skull as the lights in his sockets shrank, staring right at me.  

 

Slowly, his lights began to expand. He lowered his hand from his skull and reached out toward me, taking a hesitant step in my direction.  

 

I, on the other hand, took a step back, tense, placing a hand on the door in case I needed to slam it shut.  

 

The skeleton also seemed to tense, stopping dead in his tracks. He blinked rapidly, relaxed his posture, and shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a step back, giving me some space.  

 

A few awkward seconds passed as we stared at each other in silence, until the skeleton slowly opened his jaw and murmured my name softly.  

 

"It’s you, isn’t it? The one who placed the order." he said, watching me intently without blinking as he pointed to the stuffed backpack he was carrying.  

 

 

I snapped out of my daze and nodded nervously.  

 

 

"O-oh! S-sorry for making you wait so long!" I quickly apologized, feeling anxiety bubble in my stomach and flow through my veins. I prayed the skeleton wouldn’t get mad.  

 

"Don’t worry about it, sweetheart... especially since you’re finally here..." His words seemed to carry more weight than they let on. A feeling of unease settled in my chest as I heard him. I tried to ignore my worries and cleared my throat awkwardly, feeling it dry as a desert.  

 

"U-um... a-anyway, sorry again... B-but I don’t want to keep you any longer, so... can you give me what I ordered?" I asked nervously, stuttering every time I tried to maintain eye contact, failing miserably. I looked down at his feet... Was he wearing socks with sandals?  

 

"...Sure," he replied after a brief silence, finally looking away from me as he slung the backpack off his shoulder.  

 

 

The skeleton seemed to want to say something else, pausing for a moment before deflating slightly and pulling out the grocery bags.  

 

 

He handed them to me, and our fingers brushed briefly, making me shiver. I quickly pulled my hand away and held the bags against my chest.  

 

He also seemed to tense. The lights in his eyes widened for a moment before he took a step back, clearing his throat. (I won’t even bother asking how he does that.)  

 

"Eh, w-well... enjoy your stuff." he said, his body still tense as he took another step back... and vanished on the spot.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How-!?

 

 

 

---

 

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Cash (POV)

 

 

I collapsed in a nearby alley, gripping some trash cans to steady myself. I wiped the sweat off with my sleeve as I looked back. The apartment complex was visible in the distance, and an unbearable heaviness settled in my soul.  

 

My senses were scrambled, and my soul seemed to yearn to be near her, twisting in pain with every second I spent away. I ran a hand over my face, growling and cursing my bad luck. I could already imagine the scolding and yelling I’d get from Sans. It was inevitable.  

 

 

The sound of something liquid hitting the ground interrupted my thoughts. My body tensed instantly. The smell of copper mixed with her sweet scent, creating a nauseating combination. My face soured as I turned toward the source of the noise.  

 

 

It was Axe.  

 

 

Blood dripped from his jaw as he devoured the remains of some poor animal unfortunate enough to cross his path. He was leaning casually in a dark corner of the alley, as if he had nothing better to do.  

 

 

I suppressed a shiver at the sight of the hole in his skull. I straightened up, staring him down without giving him the satisfaction of scaring me.  

 

Axe finished devouring the animal with a sickening crunch, followed by the splatter of blood oozing from his mouth. He ran his tongue over his face, cleaning any traces of his feast.  

 

"What are you doing here? You know Classic doesn’t let you out, Axe." Normally, I’d tell Classic’s orders to go to hell, but when it comes to the Human Eaters... it’s better to play it safe.  

 

 

He didn’t respond. He kept licking his hands, swallowing the blood and fur stuck between the cracks of his bones.  

 

 

I frowned and opened my jaw to throw in some sarcastic remark, but his gaze shut me up instantly.  

 

That single red pupil pierced through me, and his deranged smile stretched even wider as he loomed over me, using his full intimidating size.  

 

"Soul... mate." His raspy voice came out slow and deliberate, but that didn’t stop the horror from embedding itself in my bones as I understood his words.  

 

He knew exactly what he was doing by using those words. His smile stretched to a painful degree as he took a step back.  

 

"She smells... delicious." He laughed at my tense posture, running a hand over his empty socket and pulling hard. Small specks of dust fell at the touch.  

 

"See you later... I’ve got to hunt something... for her." His gaze didn’t leave mine as he started walking away slowly. Despite his size, he didn’t make a single sound as he moved.  

 

I watched him disappear into the darkness, making sure he was completely gone from the apartments before relaxing. My shoulders slumped weakly to my sides.  

 

 

Too many thoughts raced through my skull. The stress seeped into every bone, making them tremble.  

 

 

 

 

 

I need to talk to Sans.

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t waste any more time. The shortcut was almost instant, vanishing into the familiar void.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything fell into a deathly silence. There was no trace of the brief encounter that had taken place, except for a few small crimson drops that could easily go unnoticed by the untrained eye.  

 

The wind was the only witness, blowing fiercely and drying the last drops of blood.  

 

 

Notes:

Hey... I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter, but there were parts that didn't completely convince me and I couldn't publish it until I fixed them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! This time we have Cash! And just to clarify, not all characters may be 100% canon. BUT, it's more because sometimes there isn't completely concrete information about our boys, only the headcanons remain (And honestly, everyone has a different one for each character).

Anyway, here's the question of the day! Do you prefer sweet, salty, or spicy? Do you think your tastes were influenced by your environment or family?

 

For example, my first time eating spicy food was as a punishment. I think I was less than 5 years old when I was staining the sofa with a whole bottle of hot sauce, my grandmother got furious and as punishment she grabbed a handful of the sauce and put it in my mouth. She was very surprised when I asked for more. Since that day, I haven't been able to stop, so if for some reason I stop updating, the spice will probably finally give me stomach ulcers. ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Chapter 4: I Can't Survive on Minimum Wage, Silly Soul!

Notes:

Hey... I'm still alive. I know it's been a while, and I only have one thing to say.

 

Work sucks.

 

Especially when you have jerk coworkers who enjoy making your life miserable. Ah... I don't recommend it to anyone, so if you're in a situation where your physical and mental health are at risk because of clowns, get out of there. You're worth too much to rot in that place.

Unfortunately I'm still working there, every day as horrible as the last, but in two months I'll finally leave that job, and hopefully it will give me the freedom to update more frequently :D

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 Ah... Nothing quite like the routine sensation of watching your dreams and hopes wither away in a whirlwind of despair, slowly and cruelly eating away at you—almost as if life itself were savoring the delicious taste of seeing you rot right on schedule, at the same time, every day, in a monotonous loop.

 

In simpler words: the curse of being a responsible adult with the obligation of having a job.

 

Because, if you’re not one of the lucky few who manage to land a well-paid job they actually love, well… you have to settle for the scraps life throws at you. Even if they’re horrible. Even if they’re miserable...

 

A deep sigh escaped my lungs as I wiped grease stains off the parts of the giant machine in front of me, pressing my lips into a thin line as I felt the grease inevitably seep under my nails.

 

Unfortunately, there was no one from the cleaning or assembly staff assigned today, so the dirty work fell to me. Again.

 

(Obviously, with no extra pay. Not that I expected more—especially when this isn’t even what I was hired to do in the first place.)

 

Still, I guess I’ve had some 'luck.' Or at least that’s what people say. But it’s not luck. It’s strategy.

 

I mean, considering I haven’t been assigned to work directly with the heavy machinery yet. I can openly say I’ve turned it into a kind of theatrical art to come off as clumsier than I really am, and the boss completely fell for every one of my little stories about my supposed incompetence with the equipment.

 

(Sometimes it’s better to be seen as useless than to end up losing a finger, an arm… or your life.)

 

I’d definitely rather not test my “luck” against those machines—they look hungrier than any worker in the factory. Even if the boss tries to sweep the incidents under the rug.

 

Oh, the boss... How can I say it nicely? Well… he doesn’t have a single ounce of respect for his workers. (I doubt the phrase “human rights” even exists in his vocabulary. And if it does, he ignores it on purpose.)

 

And since most of the people he hires are desperate, out of options, or just born with really bad luck, he’s never had to worry about lawsuits or complaints. He knows full well that no one on his team would dare risk their last chance at putting bread on the table—even if the work is inhumane and unfair to them.

 

I snapped back to reality when I had to use a bit of force to roughly pull one of the many hoses inside the machine. My face immediately twisted in disgust at the sight of all the rancid food and grime stuck both inside and outside of it, clinging like a nail dug into flesh.

 

A quiet “Ew” slipped out as I held it with only the tips of my fingers, keeping it as far away from me as possible before tossing it to the side. I shook my hand and slipped on the only thick glove I could find. (For some reason, one glove from every pair always goes missing—just like the small food-grade lubricant containers. Weird…)

 

I started cleaning it carefully to avoid tearing it in the process. A distracted hum buzzed in my throat as I inspected the hose to make sure it was clean.

 

I finished humming and tossed it into a half-filled bucket with other clean parts.

 

I looked away from the bucket and toward the parts I still had left to clean and dismantle. It only took a few seconds for that familiar heaviness to sprout from my chest like deep-rooted weeds. I couldn’t do anything but grudgingly keep going.

 

 

(Why do they act like I can do everything? I know better than anyone that if I make a mistake, they won’t hesitate to point it out. To laugh. To whisper.)

 

 

My grip on a metal part tightened. I leaned my head against the machine door, closing my eyes at the cool relief of the metal. But it wasn’t enough to calm the part of me that simmered with a slow-burning mix of rage and resignation. That swirling mess is far too familiar now.

 

 

Ugh.

 

 

A disgusting feeling that shows no signs of going away anytime soon.

 

It’s like I’m carrying the responsibilities of the entire damn building. Like I’m the only one who takes this job seriously, while the others do the bare minimum and compete to see who can ruin my day the most. Completely ignoring my constant fight to do things right every single day.

 

 

(A little voice in the back of my head wonders if the problem is me.)

 

 

Ah… It’s absolutely pathetic. But what else can I do besides grit my teeth and keep going? It’s not like I can magically escape this pit of poverty I’ve been stuck in for years.

 

Ignoring my internal struggle, I tiredly watched how the clean parts were now neatly placed where they belonged. I groaned at the effort of tightening the screws one last time.

 

I pressed my lips tightly and stood up, shaking the pain out of my muscles. As I massaged my neck, I nearly used the greasy glove-covered hand. The touch of cold grease turned my stomach and made me recoil with a disgusted gasp.

 

I managed to take the glove off without getting even dirtier. I held it with a makeshift plastic bag I found nearby, using it as a second glove while I stared at it in annoyance—as if it had conspired against me.

 

But since some grime still managed to slip between my fingers… apparently, that conspiracy had succeeded.

 

The sticky sensation twisted my stomach. I frowned and threw the gloves into the empty bucket with more force than necessary. The wet smack of rubber hitting the bottom made me feel ridiculous—like I was throwing a tantrum at an inanimate object.

 

 

Anyway...

 

 

I guess I was lucky I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I can already see the alternate timeline where I end up puking if I had decided to have breakfast.

 

Ugh, why did I have to think that?

 

Now I really do feel nauseous. Damn my inability to control these stupid intrusive thoughts.

 

I grumbled as I scrunched my nose, trying to distract myself from the weight of my own thoughts.

 

I crouched down to wash my hands in a bucket of clean water. I scrubbed hard to get the grease off, but even when my skin looked clean, the slippery feeling still clung—like it had burrowed into the cracks of my dry skin.

 

With barely disguised desperation, I wiped my hand on my pants. It eased the feeling slightly, but some ghostly grease remained, mocking me.

 

Another tired sigh escaped my lips.

 

I gave up after five useless minutes of scrubbing. I leaned over to grab the full buckets instead, swearing I heard my knees creak like an old door in the process. I swayed with every step, struggling to carry the extra weight.

 

My stubbornness kept me from putting the buckets down to rest. Some proud part of me wanted to prove I could do it alone, even if my hands burned and went numb from the pain.

 

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I felt my slippery grip on the metal handles, walking unevenly until I finally made it out of the room.

 

I dodged a few workers rushing through the halls, exchanging brief greetings with the few who slowed down enough to acknowledge me.

 

I eventually reached my destination, pushing open the door to the cleaning room with my body to keep it from slamming shut. I struggled to stay balanced as I dropped the buckets to the floor a little too roughly, letting out a strained grunt and grimacing as I cradled my numb arms to my chest.

 

"The faster I finish, the sooner I can rest…” I muttered to myself. “Come on! I got this!”

 

 

Lie.

 

 

I knew there would be more when I finished.

 

 

There’s always more.

 

 

After a bit of forced internal motivation, I picked up the buckets again, emptied the dirty water into the drain, rinsed them out, and set them aside, nice and tidy.

 

I exhaled with relief, slowly opening and closing my hands. Red marks were already decorating my palms. They hurt.

 

 

God, I hate this job...

 

 

That thought accompanied me every day, flaring up like fire every time something went wrong. (Every. Single. Day.)

 

I looked at my open hands, turning them over, noticing the scars, calluses, and roughness that had stripped them of any softness. I never made an effort to take care of them, so maybe I don’t have the right to complain or feel bad.

 

Even so…

 

I couldn’t stop looking at them.

 

 

“No one would love a woman with hands this ugly.” I thought bitterly, ignoring the tightness in my chest squeezing my heart like a snake choking a helpless mouse.

 

I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Ran a hand over my face and stared into nothing for a moment, forcing myself to focus.

 

There was still so much to do. And a very high chance I’d be given even more.

 

So, the best thing was not to think, not to feel, and just keep going.

 

I grabbed a broom and dustpan. Time to start the cleaning routine. With any luck, the boss would choose to torment some other poor soul today.

 

 

Oh well, dreaming is free.

 

 

I left the room and walked through the dark hallways, peeking through the industrial doors. Some were working with products. Others were packing. A few seemed to be fighting for their lives against the machines.

 

Wouldn’t be the first time someone got swallowed up by one of them.

 

The noise of the machines followed me even from far away. But I’m used to it by now.

 

In fact, I’d say I’ve found a small comfort in that roar. It fills the emptiness in my head and keeps out some of those… thoughts.

 

Passing through a metal door, I reached an outdoor area. The cold hit me hard. I flinched. I blew warm air over my freezing hands, forcing myself to inhale the polluted smoke from the chimneys.

 

Ugh. The smell. I struggled to breathe in the thick air and inevitably coughed.

 

I looked at the sky: black clouds covered it entirely.

 

Like a cockroach trying to escape pesticide, I ran to the other section of the factory, slamming the door shut behind me. I panted. The air conditioning inside brought with it a heavy, artificial sweetness that stung my nose.

 

But at least it wasn’t the stench from outside.

 

I relaxed a little. Let out another sigh. Complained about the pain in my back. I gripped the broom tightly and pressed my forehead against the door.

 

The seemingly endless hallways stretched out before me, leading to more dusty rooms.

 

I coughed. It felt almost like I was breathing in dirt instead of air.

 

(I hope there aren’t many long-term effects from inhaling dust like some compulsive smoker…)

 

This was the forgotten part of the factory. Only old machines, dust, and a few abandoned cobwebs.

 

 

No one came here.

 

 

No one spoke.

 

 

No one looked.

 

 

And that calmed me.

 

 

The light flickered and buzzed. I blinked before lowering my gaze.

 

The sight of a spider beginning to weave its web on my broom during those few seconds I had zoned out made me freeze.

 

I stared at it. It stared back. I shooed it away. It scurried off.

 

 

Huh.

 

 

For a moment, it felt like a faint smile crept onto my usually tense lips.

 

It slowly faded as I watched the cobwebs fall away from the broom, drifting off.

 

 

...

 

 

I decided to suppress the painful feeling in my chest—this time without even knowing why the sudden wave of loneliness hit. I didn’t want to think about it. Not when thinking hurts.

 

I took one last deep breath.

 

I clutched the broom tightly to my chest. Straightened up. Took a step forward to finally end the day.

 

 

 

 

 

So beware, dust and lint...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For your judgment day has come.

Notes:

Hey! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Finally, I managed to capture our protagonist's feelings a little more. What do you think so far?

(Also, as I mentioned before, I had planned for our MC's job to be a kind of cafe, but it seemed too cliché to me. And I thought, what other low-paying jobs would be a good option? And I came up with the idea of the factory. Personally, I have never worked in a factory, but I live near them. Also, I have family and friends who have worked on them, and I have to tell you, it's terrifying. Most of the stories I've heard are about watching someone turn into ground meat.)

But leaving the disturbing topics aside, question of the day! Have you ever had an anecdote so incredible or terrifying that no one believes it's real?

For example, when I was a child I had a little bird, one day it simply disappeared until several days later it appeared without eyes in my backyard. I was horrified and ran out crying to tell my older cousin about it, but when we came back my little bird simply disappeared. I was stunned and confused, and my cousin simply didn't believe me, but I'm sure of what I saw.

Chapter 5: I Can't Keep Fighting, Silly Boy!

Notes:

Hey! Double update! :D

I hope to make it up to you all for waiting so long, and I must tell you that this is going to be a rather long story. I like to savor my food before finishing it. ;)

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A blaring alarm echoed through the room for only a few seconds before being swiftly silenced, replaced by the soft rustling of silk sheets being folded and adjusted with enviable precision.

 

A certain red-lit skeleton gave one last glance at the folds and the impeccable placement of the pillows, as if internally approving the result. Then, he turned his gaze toward the large wardrobe at the back of the room.

 

Thanks to his long legs, it only took a few steps to reach the wardrobe doors. He opened them with ease, gave the interior a quick scan, and without much ceremony, reached in and pulled out a bluish uniform with jet-black details and a navy blue tie that stuck out like a sore thumb.

 

The skeleton frowned with such disdain it was as if the garment had personally insulted him—and his entire family.

 

The fabric in his hands seemed to be losing the battle as it was strangled with brutal force, until at last he loosened his grip and returned to his usual scowl.

 

He took the clothes, grabbed a nearby towel, tossed it over his shoulder, and left the room with firm steps toward the bathroom.

 

 

 

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POV EDGE

 

 

 

 

 

The door clicked shut behind me, momentarily cutting me off from the outside world as I entered the silent, calm bathroom.

 

With a smooth motion, I carefully hung the towel on the hook. The horrid garments were dropped beside it with a rough thud, holding back the impulse to tear them to shreds right then and there. I chose instead to focus on the shower at the back, locking on to my target.

 

 

But before even removing my gloves, I moved to the door, making sure the lock was properly secured. After all, the second-in-command of the Royal Guard must never let his guard down under any circumstances!

 

Especially not in an unfamiliar environment, with threats still under observation and evaluation.

 

I give the door a strong tug. Once I’m satisfied with its firmness, I step back and begin removing my gloves and scarf, placing them carefully on...

 

What did humans call this strange seat again? “Toilet”? I still don’t understand its supposed purpose, but I’ll figure it out eventually. There’s no human mystery that the evil (and handsome) Papyrus cannot solve with his brilliant, unstoppable intellect! 

 

Wasting no more time, I remove my armor.

 

Normally, I would shower with it on—always ready for the possibility of a surprise attack. Plus, it’s an efficient strategy to wash the armor itself and avoid any exploitable vulnerabilities.

 

But I’m forced to wear that ridiculous excuse of a uniform… Almost like some cruel joke from that useless Sans—though I doubt even he would stoop to such horrid comedic standards.

 

(Or he better not, for his own good…)

 

I growl at the thought of him, already knowing he’s probably a mess in some forgotten corner, hungover again from one of his increasingly frequent drinking sessions at the soft and pathetic version of Grillby’s in this world.

 

 

But he’s not a BabyBones anymore. I know he can take care of himself.

 

 

Still, my duty as a Royal Guard requires me to look after his wellbeing… annoying as it may be.

 

Once I secure this job among the humans, I’ll go give him a proper scolding. This time, he won’t escape!

 

(And it’s definitely NOT because the constant fear of losing him keeps me up all night. Not at all.)

 

I turn on the cold water and step under the shower. The droplets hit my bones—a sensation that, I must admit, is rather pleasant. Of course, the cold water helps keep the body and mind sharp.

 

It’s not like I can feel temperatures accurately… but if Captain Undyne endorses this as her method, it must be some kind of secret technique for warriors like me to become unstoppable. I have no doubt.

 

After rigorously scrubbing every bone, I apply MTT brand bone lotion to my structure, giving extra attention to the ribs and any rough or chipped areas. I finish with my skull, taking care not to let any lotion seep into the deep cracks that run across my eye sockets.

 

I stand a moment longer under the water before shutting it off. I grab the towel and dry off quickly, noticing the water beginning to pool on the floor. I glance down—over the smooth stone slab that Blue bought, supposedly a human artifact that “absorbs water” and “doesn’t accumulate bacteria” (whatever those are).

 

The slab seems to fulfill its absorbing purpose, appearing darker where the water has pooled. But its antibacterial effectiveness remains in question… yet another human mystery to solve.

 

I shake my skull to clear away irrelevant thoughts. Then, I hang the towel back and turn to face the offensive clothing.

 

 

I frown.

 

 

My mood was already in the gutter at the thought of working for pathetic humans, and having to dress like some kind of corporate clown makes it worse.

 

But I won’t let myself be brought down so easily by creatures beneath the soles of my boots.

 

Once I secure the job, I’ll throw that horrible tie away and replace it with a decent one.

 

Besides, this isn’t permanent, I tell myself in an attempt to stay calm.

 

When the Royal Guard returns, I’ll reclaim my place.

 

(Even if, in this world, that position is… occupied. I’ll deal with that personally.)

 

Reluctantly, I get dressed. Despite the uniform’s utter lack of quality in every possible aspect, I still look just as handsome and intimidating.

 

As expected.

 

I tuck my scarf under the shirt, well hidden. Then, as I slip on my gloves, I notice the small mark between the joint of my phalanges and ulna.

 

I run a finger over it gently, tracing the shape.

 

I don’t know how to feel about it… a soulmate mark, here, of all places.

 

I shake my head, slip the glove on, and cover the mark completely.

 

 

I can’t afford any more distractions.

 

 

I leave the bathroom and head to the kitchen. Thanks to my strict schedule, it’s empty. Normally, the softer, more annoying versions of Sans and me would show up soon.

 

Except for Razz (Or also Black, or Wine when he is not working.), who would already be snooping around the kitchen since he also tends to wake up early.

 

Strangely, he’s not here today.

 

I glance at the coffee machine, looking for signs of recent use, but find nothing. Strange. But at least today I won’t have to compete with that clown to prove my superior coffee aftertaste.

 

I grimace at the thought of coffee.

 

Coffee... such a repulsive flavor. I don’t understand how Sans and some of the others can drink it without at least some milk and cream.

 

I suspect Razz doesn’t enjoy bitter coffee either, but both of us have our honor at stake. To back down would be to surrender.

 

(Obviously, our coffee war is just between him and me. We tried including Wine once, but discovered his sense of taste is so wrecked that he genuinely seems to enjoy the bitter poison.)

 

I decided to stop thinking about those arrogant gremlins and walked over to the table, picking the best apple from the basket.

 

Then I went to the cupboard, took out a glass, inspected it, and—satisfied—closed the door.

 

Under normal circumstances I’d have prepared a magnificent lasagna. But thanks to the stupid kitchen-shift rules imposed by that incompetent Classic, I can’t. Each of us gets one day a week to cook, and you’re forbidden to touch the stove until it’s your turn—unless you’re “helping” someone else.

 

And I refuse to let culinary amateurs like Creampuff and Blueberry defile my professional kitchen with their nonsense.

 

(Speaking of one annoying little Blue imp in particular.)

 

Still, as a formidable warrior, I must keep a proper diet. I set the apple on the table and raised the glass with elegance.

 

I crushed it immediately.

 

Shards of glass rained onto the table; without losing composure I gathered them and carefully pressed them into the apple, like pins in a pincushion. Once it was suitably studded, I devoured it in two bites.

 

When I’d finished, I cleaned my teeth with a handkerchief—ever the refined gentleman—and slipped it back into my pocket. I collected any stray shards and tossed them away, dusting off my hands.

 

Then I brushed down my shirt in case a fragment remained. The rhythm of my motions synced with a faint tick-tock coming from the kitchen clock… Hmm.

 

 

I looked up: 4:12 a.m.

 

The second hand marched on relentlessly.

 

I pulled out my phone and checked—for the eighteenth time—the hour of my interview: 6:00 a.m.

 

Plenty of time to finish my—

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

A thud and the sound of something breaking jolted me. In less than a second I moved toward the source.

 

Much to my dismay, I found an idiot in a purple sweater sprawled on the floor, surrounded by ceramic shards that had once been a perfectly fine vase.

 

He showed no intention of getting up.

 

I ran a hand over my skull, suppressing a wave of irritation (and a twinge of disappointment—it wasn’t who I expected).

 

After massaging my frontal bone, I looked again. Still there, unfortunately alive.

 

What a useless lump. It’s unacceptable that a copy of me could be so… Sans.

 

(A shiver crawled down my spine at the thought.)

 

And somehow his mediocrity matches his pathetic brother perfectly.

 

I sighed in frustration and turned to leave… until a sweet scent stopped me.

 

 

It drifted out of his hood.

 

 

Frowning, I approached anyway, crouched, and lifted him by the hood to sniff the fabric.

 

The stench of smoke, alcohol, and failure hit me the moment I leaned in—repulsive.

 

But just behind it… a sweet aroma. Soft, almost imperceptible beneath the reek of the trash heap lying on the floor.

 

I couldn’t resist leaning closer, sniffing more precisely, trying to memorize that delicious scent.

 

 

…?

 

 

What in the Underworld am I doing!?

 

 

I jerked back, dropping his hood as if it burned me. Cash crashed onto the floor again. He didn’t even flinch.

 

And I…

 

I stayed there, scowl deeper than ever, forcing myself to step away, shaking my head and clenching my teeth hard.

 

This was not the time for… whatever that was.

 

But that smell… definitely abnormal. I can’t just ignore it.

 

(I’ll make sure to interrogate this idiot when I return.)

 

I shot one last distrustful glance at the heap on the floor, straightened my tie, and strode out of the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The skeleton on the floor remained motionless, then lazily cracked open a socket to watch the front door slam shut.

 

 

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An imposing structure loomed like a mountain, belching thick black smoke from its many chimneys—

(oddly reminiscent of the human fortresses I used to read about back when I was a BabyBones).

 

I narrowed my sockets at the unbearable stench, wondering how the humans working here could breathe in this hell—especially since their sense of smell is supposedly superior thanks to those noses of theirs.

 

Setting aside the faint pity I felt for the poor souls trapped here, I strode through the main entrance and immediately came face-to-face with the factory overseer.

 

I didn’t bother hiding my smugness as I towered over the little human: a stocky man in a suit, hair drenched in gel.

 

For a moment he seemed intimidated at having to crane his neck to meet my gaze, but he quickly masked it with a fake, empty smile.

 

“You must be Mr. Edge F. Serif. I’m Dionisio, head of these facilities. A real pleasure to finally meet you!” He said, tension in his voice yet still smiling as he offered his hand. I eyed it warily before gripping it firmly.

 

 

The man was shaken like a rag doll, and the instant I let go he rushed to straighten his crooked bow tie, his smile flattening into a tight line.

 

 

“Wow… quite a grip—perfect for a security guard! And if I may say so, I don’t think a formal interview is necessary. Just looking at you, I know you’ll do a fantastic job!” He added with unconvincing enthusiasm. His words sounded rehearsed, hollow, devoid of genuine praise, though his eyes glinted strangely.

 

As a proud member of the Royal Guard, I like to think I see beyond the obvious. My intuition—sharp as a guillotine—has never failed me.

 

And right now, it screamed that this man was hiding something. His intent clung to him, almost visible, like a dark, twisted membrane wrapped around his body.

 

I frowned. I don’t need a nose to smell the whiff of LV around him, yet judging by his build I doubted he gained EXP with his own hands.

 

Even so, I held my ground.

 

“Thank you… sir. It will be an honor to work here.” I lied blatantly, swallowing my pride with a painful knot in my throat, resisting the urge to grind my teeth at the humiliation of lowering myself before such vermin.

 

Dionisio either didn’t notice—or chose not to—as he adjusted his suit with triumphant flair.

 

“I’m glad to hear it! Even happier to inform you that you’ll officially start in a couple of days. I expect to see my intuition proven right—though I doubt it’ll be wrong.” He chuckled mechanically, emotionless, His smile never reaching his eyes. The cracks in his façade were obvious, but I chose prudence and remained silent.

 

“…I won’t disappoint you, sir.” I muttered through clenched teeth, barely containing my frustration, longing for my Underground where creatures like him wouldn’t last a minute un-massacred.

 

Dionisio looked satisfied. His smile twisted into a sly smirk he tried to hide behind his hand, fake-coughing to compose himself.

 

“Ah, one more thing. Since you’re technically already on the team, could you handle an animal that’s been rummaging through our trash? I assume it’s a raccoon, but no one’s managed to catch it. I’m sure you can. Good luck.” He didn’t wait for an answer—turned on his heel and hurried off, his footsteps echoing along the metal floor until they faded.

 

 

A low growl rattled my ribs as I clenched my fists and spun toward the exit.

 

What an audacious bastard, I thought, shoving the doors open. The polluted air that greeted me only worsened my mood.

 

Instead of heading to my car, I veered toward the dumpsters I’d spotted earlier.

 

Tasks like this were humiliating. They should hardly be graced by my presence in this dump they call a factory.

 

With decisive steps I soon detected movement among the bags—at least I wouldn’t waste time searching.

 

I summoned a sharp bone and aimed at the hidden target, but before I could strike, the creature leapt out of the bin, showing itself.

 

I raised a brow. Why expose itself if it was in danger?

 

On closer inspection the animal bore signs of countless battles: matted fur, deep scars, a long slash across its face, one ear missing—and one eye gone long ago.

 

 

Something twisted inside me.

 

 

“What are you waiting for, beast? Why expose yourself to the edge of my weapon so carelessly?” I asked. No reply—only indifference as it licked its paws.

 

I waited a second more, then dismissed the bone, intrigued by its calm. I stepped closer and crouched to its level.

 

“Not planning to fight? Are you—” In a swift motion I grasped it by the flanks and lifted it with ease. But the purr rumbling from its chest left me speechless.

 

 

Purring? Seriously!? It didn’t see me as a threat?

 

 

I studied it, searching for any sign of fear. Nothing. Only peace.

A creature fearless, purring boldly in my grasp.

 

“Are you… saying you consider me a warrior worthy of respect?” I asked, my normally intimidating voice reduced to a… hesitant murmur?

 

“Meow,” it answered simply, purring without a care.

 

I couldn’t help but puff out my chest. My malicious grin returned full force as I sprang upright, the creature still in my hands.

 

“NYAHAHAHA! OBVIOUSLY! CONSIDERING HOW INCREDIBLE, FABULOUS, ADMIRABLE (AND UNDENIABLY ATTRACTIVE) I AM, OF COURSE EVEN AN ADMIRABLE BEAST LIKE YOU WOULD RECOGNIZE MY GREATNESS!” I gave it a proud little shake, bringing it closer to my face. Its constant purring confirmed it shared my opinion.

 

“NYAH! LISTEN WELL, BEAST. I’M MAKING YOU A GRAND AND GENEROUS OFFER: BE MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND. THIS PLACE IS UNWORTHY OF US. ACCEPT, AND WE’LL RETURN HOME TOGETHER… Well?” The excitement coursing through my bones was new, but oddly warm. It was the first creature that neither feared nor despised me (well… except for Sans).

 

“Miau.” it affirmed confidently, staring at me with its single eye.

 

My cruel smile softened. I pulled it gently to my chest and began to walk.

 

“I ASSURE YOU THIS IS THE BEST DECISION OF YOUR LIFE. YOU WON’T REGRET IT.” I declared, knowing a true admirer would change my destiny completely.

 

I felt invincible. As if no one—absolutely no one—could ruin my day now.

 

 

My grand visions were interrupted by my phone buzzing. Forced to juggle the creature in my arms, I fished the device from my pocket.

 

 

My bony brow rose when I saw the sender: the ashtray.

 

Strange that he’d text me voluntarily… considering our mutual distrust.

 

Curiosity hooked me before I could ignore it.

 

 

I opened the message and saw—

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

ASHTRAY:

---

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! For the record, this chapter and the previous one were supposed to be one chapter, but I decided to split them up.

Aniway, we have our beloved Edgelord! And a glimpse of DoomFanger!

 

...

 

What?

 

You're thinking I'm purposely avoiding our jokester boys because they're hard to write (Oh my god, writing puns in English will be hell. 💀) or something? Psh, of course not...

 

Eh...

 

Ehem.

Question of the day! Do you prefer cold or hot weather? Personally, I prefer cold, especially because it's incredibly hot in Mexico ☠️
It's so hot you could easily cook an egg outside!