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Mel crouched low behind the more larger rose hedges in one of the Pomefiore gardens, the smell of lavender clinging to his fingertips from recently planting them. The sun filtered through the glass ceiling above, scattering light across his hair in dusky strands of burgundy and gold. His tail twitched nervously—he could feel the faint hum of Ortho’s hover-chair somewhere nearby. The boy was hunting.
“Melania Kore Agios,” came the sing-song, but menacingly mechanical sweet voice of Ortho’s, floating down the corridor between the glass planters. “Accept defeat as it's statistically proven you will be found 100%. You can’t hide forever. Brother said your constitution can handle potion backlash better than anyone~!”
Mel winced, pressing a finger tightly to his lips to quiet even the sliver of a whisper of his breath. He had survived countless Pomefiore experiments, from rejuvenating masks to strange glittering teas that glowed at night even with poison in them. But potions—especially those brewed by Ortho with Idia’s coding help—always spelled and showed unpredictable chaos.
The last time, his hair had turned into vines for three days. Beautiful vines which Vil complimented and called a garden, yes, but still vines.
He tried to crawl backwards toward the back entrance, but his heel caught a watering can, sending a loyd clattering sound against a marble pot.
A pause.
Then: whirrrrrr—
A faint blue light flared behind the hydrangeas.
“Target acquired,” Ortho declared, far too cheerfully.
Mel yelped and tried to bolt. “O-Ortho! I told you, I’m still recovering from the last one!”
The hover-chair zipped after him, smooth and relentless. “But that’s why you’re the only one perfect for testing! You have the highest aftereffects resistance! It’ll only sting for a moment!”
“Sting?!” Mel’s voice cracked in horror as he darted around a trellis of glowing lilies—his own creation, now his only hiding cover. “The last one made me smell like bananas for a week!”
“It was a success to me!”
“To you, but that was traumatizing!”
Mel’s emotions, fluttering between panic and fond exasperation, made blossoms burst from the walls— a few honeysuckle, daisies, feverfew—all blooming wildly as his magic slipped. The garden filled with color and fragrance, masking his scent and making Ortho’s scanners glitch briefly.
“Hah—found it,” Mel murmured, diving into a hollow of thick ivy. He pressed a hand over his mouth to quiet his giggling nerves. “If I just wait here a little longer…”
But then he heard the faint hum of Ortho’s laughter. “You forget—I can track your floral pheromone output, Mel~.”
Mel froze, tail bristling. “…You what?”
A second later, a gentle puff of sparkling mist wafted into the ivy hollow. The scent of ozone and sugar filled the air.
Mel coughed. “Ortho, wait—what’s—”
The mist shimmered gold, and suddenly his hair began to sparkle faintly, each strand glowing like a candlewick. His pupils dilated, his magic pulsing in sync with his heartbeat.
“Oh no…” he breathed, voice trembling between awe and panic.
“Oh yes,” Ortho said, appearing from the mist, eyes bright with triumph. “Success! A light-reactive glamour infusion! You’re glowing!”
Mel blinked at his hands—petals of light unfurling from his palms like tiny lanterns. “It’s… beautiful…”
Ortho grinned, pride swelling. “Told you it’d work. No dangerous side effects this time!”
“…For now,” Mel muttered, but his tone softened when he saw Ortho’s bright excitement. The boy’s grin was impossible to resist. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, Ortho.”
“I know.”
Mel sighed and stood, brushing petals from his skirt. “Next time, at least ask before turning me into a firefly.”
“I’ll take that as permission for next time!”
Mel groaned, hiding his smile behind a glowing hand.
And though he tried to stay annoyed, the way Ortho’s laughter lit the air, like small fireworks, made it impossible not to laugh back, even as his whole body glowed like a captured star.