The streets of Ebonheart were packed; people shoulder to shoulder as the work day drew to a close. The air was thick with the smog from mana processing plants and hints of the sea. Art Deco style buildings towered over the dirty streets of the red light district; their facades blackened from the corrosive mana pollution. Streets and sidewalks were almost indistinguishable; a giant black slab snaking through the entire city. Among a dark and dreary mass of people flowing like a river, a pale figure emerged from an apartment building, not far from the docks. Many workers were heading home or to the bars, but Cass's day was just starting.
"That insufferable woman. Can't she tell time?"
He rolled down the sleeves of his dark gray shirt and tucked his hands into the pockets of his black pants. Buying any other color was a waste of money here; they'd all wind up like these sooner rather than later.
I'm starting to miss those military fatigues.
Cass was headed for the Dogface Doxy, the brothel where he worked. It was a dismal place, which is pretty high praise for the slums. The gaudy, pink neon sign hummed as Cass opened the creaky iron door…
The old, red brick foyer could use some repairs.
The main room was a mishmash of wood paneling and dark green walls decorated with risque pictures and alcohol ads. The bar was wood, sporting signs of impact damage and blood stains, with a line of red stools placed in front. A smattering of tables and chairs along with a bunch of booths on the far wall made up the seating areas for customers. A deep, feminine voice bellowed in Cass's ears.
"Cass! Took ya long enough! 3 of the girls are already with customers! Get your ass in gear!"
"Why'd you open so early today? I still have an hour until I'm on the clock! Handle it yourself you wench!"
Cass was already running to his post. He was basically a bouncer. Though depending on who you asked, he was a "special order" for some of the higher end clients. If Cass ever found who'd started those rumors…The loudmouth barking orders at him was Tindra, an ex-soldier. She was almost as tall as Cass with fiery, wild red hair down to her lower back and tanned skin. Her freckles would almost be cute if she weren't such a loudmouthed barbarian. Even after being retired for so long, her muscles were still defined. And though she'd been in countless battles, her skin was unmarred.
Not surprising for a Blessed.
She was around Cass's mom's age, but still received plenty of glances from clients. Still, not that many had the balls to proposition her. She was a 6th tier Blessed after all. Blessed energy does wonders for the aging process and fends off many ne'er-do-wells. She had retired years ago, well before the battle Cass was sent to in his trial. Having nowhere to go, she decided to return home and open the brothel.
She cackled, wiping her hands on her jeans. Her olive jacket flared open showing off her low cut yellow shirt…and a view that would keep any man happy while drinking at the bar.
"All bark and no bite! Smart, I'll give ya that! But that mouth…keep it up and I'll have you workin' the floor too, since ya got all that feist in ya!"
Cass shuddered.
Thank god that wasn't an order.
As everyone knows, a parasite is beholden to his host. As such, he'd have to do it. Just like he'd ran to his post when she told him to "get his ass in gear"; he was compelled to. It had been half a year since the trial ended. Cass had learned quite a bit about his curse in that time. Believe it or not, it wasn't completely hopeless…just mostly. To begin with, Autoimmunity didn't seem to affect the normal wear and tear of the body simply existing. If it had, he'd be dead already. He wondered if this was actually a result of his Dead trait.
I mean, dead people don't have any wear and tear, right? Of course, they do rot…And they don't move around either. Two things which don't describe me. Perhaps the fog is just an idiot.
Unfortunately, any damage from external forces would remain. From the smallest nick to lethal injuries. Well, he hadn't experienced the latter since returning from the trial, but it stood to reason. However, Cass's body was currently free of any damage; and not because he hadn't been hurt since the trial. He had discovered some useful information. Just as a parasite feeds off its host to sustain itself, so too could Cass feed off his host to heal his injuries. It had its limits of course: He had to be in contact with her. Plus, she would sustain an equivalent amount of damage in return. The first time he did this, a new fact about his curse appeared in his mind, as if it had always been there. If the host dies, you die.
I guess it's not that surprising. "Separated, you die" was already stated. What's a bigger separation than death?
It certainly helped him take his job seriously.
"Heya, Cass!"
The girls greeted Cass as usual. Most of them were older than him; a few by a large margin, and a few were the same age. All of them were from the slums of Ebonheart. Many held scars from mana poisoning and rough clients, though the latter had diminished since Cass started working there. They fawned over him every chance they got. Cass had never considered himself particularly attractive, at least compared to fellow nobles or royals. However, since stepping into the real world, his standards had been obliterated.
Does that mean Misha and Ariayah are actual goddesses?
Cass would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention regardless. When he first showed up asking for work, Tindra thought he was there to "walk the floors", as she puts it. She scoffed when he asked about a security position. It was in part due to his build. Cass had some muscle but he was thin looking, especially in his loose clothes. The other reason was thanks to his Dead trait. Cass had no signs of possessing Blessed energy…or Cursed energy in his case. All Blessed could sense other Blessed to some degree, unless they went out of their way to hide their presence or had some trait perhaps. Even then, they could still be detected if someone was perceptive enough. Cass could not. He was a normal human to every Blessed he'd met since the trial. He may not have received his 6th tier rank, but he still had his partial blessing enhancements from the trial. So meeting Tindra's job requirements was easy. If anything, he had to hold back so as not to appear too suspicious.
"Cass! C'mere. Have a drink."
Tindra slid a glass mug with a green, glowing liquid to him. He still had no idea what it was…but damn it was good. She slurped half of her's down in one gulp.
"Weren't you just whining about me getting to work? Make up your mind, woman!"
She reached over with one arm, scooped Cass up, and slammed him into the stool in front of her.
"Relax, pretty boy! You've been here for half a year now! It's your anniversary celebration!"
Cass heard a series of party poppers go off behind him and the girls congratulating him. Before he could react, Tindra had managed to put a party hat on him. The cheap string pressing his hair to the side of his head made it all the more ridiculous looking.
"We've never had such a well behaved bouncer before. Hell, last one I had to beat down myself! Tried to press Mia into stuff she don't do. 6 months with nothin' like that is unheard of! Congrats!"
"I think that says more about your judge of character than me."
"Ehh, maybe. Sometimes a fierce attack dog bites his owner. Happens."
She leaned in way too close,
"Just gotta put it down when it does."
She leaned back, cackled, and finished her drink then sighed.
"The girls agreed to let you take your pick. But I know you won't. Still thought I should offer."
"No. Thanks."
"You write that letter yet?"
"I told you I'm not writing any letter."
"Just gonna mope around forever? If she's half as amazin' as you go on about then surely she's worth that. Afraid she's got a new squeeze after kickin' ya to the curb?"
Cass had bent the truth about his situation ever so slightly. Not only was he not Blessed, but he wasn't a noble either. Misha was his beautiful girlfriend…Fed up with his miscreant lifestyle, she'd kicked him to the curb. He never wanted to bring Misha up in the first place, but the one and only time he'd gotten drunk…well, turns out he's a talkative drunk.
"She wouldn't do that."
"Ah, Cass…You shouldn't be so naive in a place like this. Someone might take advantage of you. Any sane woman in a den wolves like the slums always has a plan B, C, and D if she's smart. Love ain't any different."
It made sense given the story he'd told her. However, never being able to see her again was worse for Cass. Maids were able to receive mail at the palace. Would it be worth sending a message to let her know that he was safe? Could he tell her not to say anything to the family? If she knew what Cadeyrn did to him, would she be in danger? Would he come for Cass? There were too many unknowns to risk it. Tindra stood up and rubbed the top of his head like she was trying to set him ablaze.
"Might as well get some practice while you're single! Maybe make some money too! A few of the regulars ask about you a lot!"
She cackled. Overall, she wasn't a bad host for Cass. He thought that being in the middle of the forest with his curse would be a death sentence. But he had a lot more time to find a host than he anticipated; an incubation period before the effects kicked in perhaps? By the time he arrived at the Dogface Doxy, he intuitively knew what he had to do to make Tindra his host. She had to drink his blood. The incubation period had ended and Cass could feel his energy depleting. It was a horrible feeling. That was why they'd gotten drunk together; he had snuck his blood in her drinks. He guessed she had drunk around a liter in total before the horrible feeling left him. Of course he didn't heal, so he kept bleeding for the next few days; wrapping his cut up hand tightly, smearing adhesive over it…anything he could think of until he learned how to transfer his damage to her. He didn't mind at the time. He'd even felt triumphant as his wounds disappeared. But now…He'd prefer not to do that. It's the least he could do seeing as she keeps that dreadful feeling away. He also learned that the feeling returns if he ventures too far from her. He truly was beholden to her, in every sense of the word.
Hmm… Could be worse.
The chimes on the front door rang out.
"Can't ya read! We're closed right now, ya blind son of a–"
"Looking lovely as ever, Tindra."
Cass frowned and the girls retreated to the back of the common area. Linas Rampone owned The entire shipping industry in Ebonheart. It'd be absurd to think you could find him in a hovel like the Dogface Doxy. His expensive, light blue suit was comparable to something Cass's father would wear, though more gaudy. Slicked, blonde hair contrasted well with his outfit. Pale blue, lifeless eyes that seemed to always be squinting were fixated on Tindra. His face gave Cass the impression he was around her age. The way he carried himself and the size of his tall frame indicated that he'd seen his fair share of fights.
"We don't plan on opening today."
"I just got back from my trip."
He took a pause.
"I thought you'd be happier to see me?"
He picked up one of the party hats.
"A welcome home party? That's sweet. Not quite the welcome I was hoping for."
She hesitated for a second.
"C'mon."
He smiled.
"Yes, ma'am."
Cass's jaw tightened and he clenched his fists…