Chapter 23: A Closet of Meals

Aldous came back into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself.

Milo’s objective here, now fulfilled, was simple: an advantage over the person hunting him, knowing at all times where he was, and a setup for the upcoming Calamity.

It hadn’t caused the Plague outbreak in this academy, but it was coming. Aldous would naturally Turn it.

So Milo would steal the kill.

One of the biggest problems in fights with a Host was seeing anything at all. Each manifesting Calamity had an eye, an oval of the element it governed, revolving around itself.

They weren’t as peaceful as the one Milo had previously encountered. Most certainly, none of them opened onto a lively blue sky...

Noticing his common sense fade away with the daydream, he straightened, and the desks he was hiding in almost squeaked under his shifting weight.

A few more Bang-Bang! and Aldous left the bathroom, scanning the corridor before sprinting down it. He almost slid on the vomit again and slowed to a walk, picking the pace back up only on dry ground.

Of course, such a hero would not think of a person actually sitting inside a maintenance stack. It’d be impossible for one to not make the faintest of noises!

But Milo was a ghost. A sneaky detail the man had missed.

With the flail’s outline a good couple of walls away, he whispered, "Bookmark?"

[ Bookmark Active ]

[ Traced: A Nimble Flanged Flail ] 𓂃🖋

Questions lined up behind his teeth. Could he see the relic’s statistics if he prompted the sheet?

But this was not an adequate place for interrogations.

One glance at the outline told him Aldous was far enough to not come roaring back into his face again. He hopped out of the stack. The paint-stiffened dropcloth brushed his shoulders on the way.

Under bright lights, someone might just notice an eye peeking out of the furniture. The labyrinth of staff rooms beat the maintenance stack anyway.

Though he would stop short of it, his destination was Mr. Cald and Henry’s nest.

If he met the instructors, he could always claim the ghost chased him and that he’d notified Aldous of it. A deal was in motion, and in such a quiet building, someone would hear a scream from behind the walls.

The hero would come and save the ghost.

On his way, Milo picked up the apple he had kicked to the wall.

In the room with the confiscation closet, he dug through the snacks.

Despite the variety—roasted potato chips, dried fruit, pumpkin and sunflower seeds—all of them had one thing in common.

The expiration dated back over a year.

He wasted ten minutes squinting at each label in the dark, nose an inch from the print. Eventually, he found express noodles that had expired just four months ago.

Maybe potato and fruit released some toxins after expiration. Dried or not, the risk was higher.

But bone-dry ramen in a sealed package with nothing but powdered herbs? That combination didn’t produce toxins in four months. At worst, it had lost some flavor.

He had been vomiting everything he ate lately before he got to digest it. Stuffing the bag into his pocket was strategic.

His thinness may have protected him from Aldous back at the Bookmark errand, but he was starting to border on malnutrition.

Milo gripped the hook tighter.

If he was going to follow Aldous into a fight with a Host, he would need to be stronger than that.

Beyond the glass pane, Mr. Cald’s ragged stick stood upright. The tip of it smoldered a faint light into the room.

The room before that hideout, however, was a general space for the staff. A duty roster hung by the door, inspection slots inked in beside each instructor’s name.

His eyes narrowed on the electric kettle.

"So what if he checks the staff rooms?" Henry asked.

"I told them we checked."

"What if our word’s not... what if they want a second look?"

"Two instructors checked. The matter is settled."

Milo tiptoed toward the kettle and tore the bag of ramen open with a soft rustle of aluminum. The smell of salt and powdered herbs cramped his empty stomach.

He set the bag aside and bent over a miniature sink to find cups full of water inside. The liquid didn’t seem to be that cloudy.

"Aldous is a Warden, though. The Warden."

"The second floor’s staff rooms have been cleared. That is what I told them."

"Well, it would be the worst place for an entity... I suppose."

"Exactly. Waste of time."

Luckily, the kettle was plugged in. As it worked with an almost imperceptible whirr, he grabbed a bowl and blew the dust out of it.

"What happens after we leave?"

"We sell it."

"Wrong question... how do we leave with them. And who gets what."

"I take the left orant hand, the viaticum and the silver-chased clasp."

"And I get, what, the bell? Who buys a dented hand-bell?"

"It is a split as even as it gets, given the one we need to use." Mr. Cald’s voice deepened. "I need those to complete my collection."

"Yeah, of course, so you take all the jewelry and I take trash."

The electric kettle whirred on.

"You take the medal, mind you."

"And it’s not even rare, and you take all the—"

"Have the silver-chased clasp, then! You leave with three and I with two. Stop acting like a child I have to satisfy."

Both men exhaled.

"...Okay. So how do we get them out?"

"I do not know yet. Details. The hard part of getting them into the closet is done."

Milo’s eyes slid to what very much looked like a closet. He poured the boiling water into the bowl with the noodles, covered the top with a plate, and went over.

The door gave with a faint screech, and the dented hand-bell fell out. He caught it with his boot.

At last, a closet full of meals!

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⋆˚࿔ Coming right up: "Falling Asleep" ... ⤵︎ [!]