The lady who'd been standing behind Emmett wore beautiful, layered robes of dark amethyst silk, her face covered by a veil of crimson and deep hues.
Only her eyes were visible, a swirl of white and gold, piercing and full of authority. Her presence alone reflected her power and age.
She seemed present, yet also impossibly far away, like an eerie collage of two worlds.
Slowly, she approached Faust and knelt in front of him. For a moment, she was silent, her intense gaze meeting his, full of emotions she couldn't quite express.
"Young master," she said, her voice surprisingly deep and velour, like the silent growl of a tigress. "I have failed you, again."
Faust shook his head. He stood, then helped her up.
Despite his rather tall figure, for his age, at least, she still loomed a head and a half above him, adding to her oppressive presence.
"No, you didn't. I planned for months. You couldn't have expected me to sneak out and—"
"I have failed you, again," she repeated, turning away. "But I am glad Fate has redeemed my mistakes."
"I'll be seeing you tonight during supper, young master. If need be, call my name, and I will emerge."
Before Faust could protest, she vanished in a cloud of dark smoke. The cloud then faded into nothingness, leaving no trace of her presence.
"…is that a skill all Ascendants have…" he muttered under his breath as he walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed.
He slicked his hair back, pausing to take a deep breath in and slowly exhale it out. He repeated the cycle a few times.
For a moment, he ignored the little spirit still following him and simply soaked in the quiet stillness. The chirping of birds and the sound of moving chariots drifted through the open window.
The fresh smell of bread, rising from downstairs, reached his nostrils. The light of day bathed his room in a golden glow.
Everything was just the same as it had always been, and yet…
Faust finally turned to the little spirit, studying it.
Evidently, spirits could come in all shapes and forms, their nature and intellect at birth varying from person to person.
But his Sutra Spirit seemed particularly… aware. Almost too aware.
"…Hello?" Faust said, unsure how to engage.
"It took you much too long to greet me back, father. I'm hoping we won't have to work on your manners in the future."
"It'd be unfortunate for a spirit as divine as I to spend my time so unwisely," the little spirit added, shaking its head.
Faust blinked at its eccentric words but didn't mind. If anything, they excited him.
"Do you have a name? Am I supposed to grant you one?… let's see, what about—"
The spirit raised a hand, stopping him. "That's strike two, father. Do not assume I am nameless."
It puffed out its chest. "I am Mephistopheles Chibrum. Or, for short, Chibi. It is great to finally meet you face to face, father!"
Confusion creased Faust's expression. "Face to face…?"
His eyes widened.
A flash of realization thundered through his mind as years of memories snapped together.
"You're the voice?!"
For as long as he could remember, a voice had spoken to him, and he to it. Often, it manifested as a reflection of himself whenever he stood near mirrors or reflective surfaces.
'…I thought I had gone insane…'
The most logical explanation he and his father had come up with was that the voice was a side effect of his Vein Disease, the same disease that'd stopped him from accessing his weave and becoming an Ascendant.
The other possibility was a Ghost or spectral entity, but with Emmett's power, that likelihood was nearly zero. If that were the case, he'd have sensed it long ago.
Chibi sighed. "That's strike three, father. You ought to be more astute in your conclusions. What idiot would assume a voice like me was merely an echo of madness?"
The little angel crossed its arms, disappointment etched across its features. "We have a lot of work to do, fathe—"
"Enough of this mysterious act, and stop calling me father," Faust interrupted, a flicker of anger in his voice.
The spirit didn't react to the words, but to the emotion behind them. Though Faust hadn't shouted, the little spirit jolted backward, its beady golden eyes trembling, its haughty façade breaking for the briefest moment.
Faust's heart tightened.
He immediately remembered a pivotal trait all Sutra Spirits shared: Regardless of their initial intelligence, their emotional intelligence was always that of a child's upon birth.
"I'm sorry, I apologise. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just confused. Can you explain what's going on?" he said gently, his hand moving to caress Chibi's small head.
The little spirit didn't answer at first. It pouted, glaring at him.
Faust's gaze softened. "If you really are the voice, then you should know me well, no? We've been together for nearly thirteen years, that's almost my entire life."
"Do I seem like the type to be mean and inconsiderate?"
Chibi hesitated. Just as it was about to nod, Faust clarified:
"To my family, I mean."
"So, let's start over." Faust smiled. "I'm Faust Solus Tharlot, third heir of the Tharlot Clan. And you are?"
The little angel exhaled a shaky breath, its proud posture slowly returning.
"I am Mephistopheles Chibrum Tharlot, son of Faust and the greatest Spirit ever born," it declared calmly.
This time, Faust simply nodded, already used to its antics.
"Now, if you can, explain what happened; how you're the voice, and anything else that might help."
Chibi sighed, floating cross-legged in the air before Faust. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"…It's a bit complicated, to be entirely honest."
"And why is that?" Faust asked, arms crossed.
"It's complicated because I… don't really know either. One moment I was sleeping and the next… you were dead?"
Intrigue sparked in Faust's eyes.
"Tell me more."