Solomon's respect for the Ancient One grew even deeper. It was clear she had maneuvered the situation with Mephisto masterfully, using the devil's own desperation to reclaim his wayward avatar to secure Coulson's soul. With the Ancient One personally overseeing the soul's return, there was almost no chance Mephisto could tamper with it. Coulson's soul had safely re-entered his body shortly after Solomon's spell revived his vitals. There was no risk of him becoming a soulless abomination.
But now, the Ancient One urged Solomon to focus on a different problem: the witches. Ever since completing Dinah, Solomon hadn't dared return to Bayonetta's apartment, avoiding the inevitable confrontation. The Ancient One reminded him that avoidance was futile—especially after creating such an eye-catching homunculus. Solomon had to face the consequences of his own indulgence.
For Solomon, Dinah was a homunculus, an alchemical assistant, and an eternal guardian. But he knew the witches wouldn't see it that way. Bayonetta and Jeanne would likely assume he'd created a lifelike doll purely to indulge his desires. Between Dinah's provocative attire, her impossibly perfect figure, and Solomon's successes in replicating even certain organs with necromantic precision, there was no way he could explain himself convincingly. His only option: make sure Dinah kept everything a secret.
Amused by Solomon's predicament, the Ancient One, a known fan of domestic dramas, suggested a plan.
"My Lady!"
Kneeling on one knee, Solomon held Bayonetta's foot, her leg wrapped in black stockings, with reverence. Warm, amber sunlight filtered into the room, casting a soft glow on the crystal high heel in his hand. The shoe shimmered, refracting light into a dazzling spectrum. Solomon carefully slid the shoe onto her foot and kissed the faintly visible skin beneath the sheer fabric.
"My Queen!"
He repeated the process with her other foot, his tone dripping with affection. "Words fail to capture your radiance. You outshine these crystal shoes, every polished gem, the intoxicating summer breeze over a lake, and the warm, fragrant air of an autumn sunset…"
"Who taught you such sickly sweet words, my little poet?" Bayonetta covered her mouth with her fingers, but the upward curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.
The Ancient One had been right. No woman was immune to compliments about her beauty—goddesses included. Coupled with a perfect gift, the effect was even stronger. Solomon, following the advice to the letter, had succeeded in appeasing her. However, Dinah, standing nearby with Cheshire Cat in her arms, watched the display with visible confusion. She tilted her head, pondering her master's strange behavior.
Cheshire Cat yawned, extending its tongue lazily. Old trick, not impressed, it thought. This house always had some sort of drama, and the cat had grown desensitized. Sniffing at the woman holding it, Cheshire noted something peculiar—no scent. No blood coursing beneath her skin, no warmth of breath. She was an oddity, but the shared soul link with Solomon made her presence tolerable.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you, darling," Bayonetta said, raising her leg so the pointed toe of her shoe trailed up Solomon's chest to his throat. She licked her lips. "You went and created a female homunculus. Are we not enough for you?"
Here it comes—the ultimate question! Solomon drew a deep breath, steadying himself. With syrupy sweetness, he replied, "Dinah is my assistant, born of my own essence. I need someone to protect me during battles and command my construct army. Think of her as my other half, Bayonetta."
Holding her leg, Solomon slowly rose, stepping closer as Bayonetta guided him toward her. He clasped her thigh as her intoxicating perfume filled his senses. "She's still learning. She's my most perfect creation to date. Darling, she represents a step in my pursuit of ultimate truth. By creating her, I've etched her name into the fabric of this world. She is my homunculus, bound to my soul forever. Just like you, Bayonetta."
"Your words are as sweet as honey," Bayonetta murmured, laughing softly. Her whip's tip grazed Solomon's chin as she glanced at Dinah. "But that doesn't explain why you stole my lipstick to use on your homunculus."
"Uh… well, you see, I just wanted to find the perfect shade…" Solomon stammered, caught off guard. This was outside the "100 Questions Witches Might Ask" scenarios he'd rehearsed. He needed a perfect answer, fast!
Whispering in her ear, Solomon shared his explanation. Bayonetta, satisfied, decided to let him off the hook.
Later, Solomon began teaching Dinah how to cook. As she clumsily chopped vegetables, she brought up her earlier observations.
"Master," she said. "Why did you perform those actions earlier? Do they hold special significance in human society? Do female primates universally like reflective minerals? Why is Master interested in the lower limbs of witches? Their weapons don't pose a threat to you. Why were you nervous?"
"Why are you asking these questions?" Solomon glanced up from the cutting board. Dinah's expressionless face gave him pause, making him wonder if he'd miscalibrated her facial actuator system. Nonetheless, he answered her.
"That was affection, a way of maintaining romance. You have emotions—I ensured that when I gave you a portion of my life force. Because of that, you struggle to understand these things. It's not something you can learn from books. That's love, Dinah, and it's something you'll grow to understand in time."
"I feel the bond between us," Dinah said, lowering her gaze and placing her hands over her chest. "Until now, I thought it was the vibration of my alchemical engine. Is this love, Master?"
"That's loyalty," Solomon corrected. "It comes from the fact that you're part of my essence. Our souls are connected. Even if you were destroyed, any new homunculus I create would still be you because you hold the alchemical soul I made."
"Just as humans love their creators, I love you, my creator, Master. I believe I am far more devout than any human. If you desire love, I would write a holy text for you, compelling the world to adore you as they would a god. Then you would no longer need such gestures to earn affection."
Solomon rolled his eyes. Homunculi, created with a fragment of their master's life force, always developed these kinds of quirks. While absolutely loyal, their exaggerated devotion often manifested in bizarre ways—jealousy toward anyone close to their creator or plans to build temples in their honor. Solomon now suspected he'd infused Dinah with too much of his essence. Her fanaticism was clearly over the top.
"No, Dinah. Absolutely not," Solomon said, returning his focus to the chopping board.
"I've noticed I wear high heels like the witches. I can deduce they align with Master's aesthetic preferences. If Master desires such interactions, I could also assist. Is that what they call masochism online?"
"Where did you learn that?" Solomon gawked, alarmed. "I never authorized you to access such information! Your network interface was dismantled!"
"I learned it through J.A.R.V.I.S.'s network, Master."
"F***! That damn technophile!"
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Hello, if you enjoy mythology novels, I invite you to check out "I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother", a story inspired by Norse mythology