Inside, the contrast struck immediately.
The moment the door creaked open and they stepped in, the worn-down exterior they had just seen seemed to vanish, replaced by something… unexpectedly maintained. The space wasn't luxurious, not even close, but it was cared for, and that alone created a strange, quiet dignity within the room.
The floor tiles were clean, faint streaks from a recent mop still catching the light near the corners. The furniture was old, yes, edges softened by time and use, but everything was placed neatly, deliberately, as if someone refused to let decay take over completely.
A faint scent lingered in the air.
Jasmine.
Soft.
Subtle.
It wrapped around the space like a quiet reassurance.
Sunlight filtered in through dusty windows, not bright, but gentle, spreading across a worn couch, a stack of slightly curled monster-training magazines, and the front desk where a white cat lay curled, breathing slow and even, completely undisturbed by the outside world.
Behind that desk—
A woman.
She looked up.
Her fingers paused mid-scroll on a sleek PC tablet, her posture straightening just enough to acknowledge their presence without any unnecessary movement.
Arceus slowed.
Not out of hesitation.
Not out of doubt.
But because—
She was striking.
Even in simple office wear, a clean white blouse tucked neatly beneath a fitted vest and a narrow skirt, she carried herself with an elegance that felt almost misplaced in a place like this. Her features were sharp, refined, her skin pale enough to resemble porcelain under the soft light, and the jewelry she wore… subtle at a glance, but unmistakably expensive upon closer inspection.
Her earrings caught the light with quiet brilliance.
Her bracelet—
Not flashy.
But valuable.
This place looks half-dead…
His eyes shifted briefly across the room.
…and the receptionist looks like she belongs in a boardroom.
The contrast almost made him smile.
Almost.
But he kept it in.
Composed.
"Welcome to Zero," she said, her voice smooth and level, like still water untouched by wind. "Are you here to post a mission?"
Arceus inhaled slightly, about to respond—
But Celia stepped forward first.
Confident.
Direct.
"We're here to meet Alaric Von Seraph," she said. "An acquaintance of his told us to come."
The shift was instant.
Sharp.
Almost comical.
The receptionist's composed posture collapsed like a structure losing its support, her shoulders dropping as she fell back into her chair with a long, dramatic exhale.
"Ugh…"
Her tone changed completely.
"Just go to the third floor."
She waved her hand lazily, not even bothering to look at them anymore.
"You'll find that drunkard there," she added with visible irritation. "Probably passed out."
A pause.
"If you can wake him, great. If not…"
A small shrug.
"…not my problem."
***
Celia and Arceus exchanged a brief glance.
Surprised.
But neither commented.
Celia gave a polite smile anyway, offering a quick thanks before turning toward the stairs.
Arceus followed—
Then paused.
His eyes drifted.
To the desk.
To the cat.
Still sleeping.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Something in his mind stirred.
A faint shimmer appeared in his vision.
***
[Unknown]
Species: Frost Veil Cat
Grade: Epic
Level: 16
Status: Affected by internal ailment – "Moonpaw Fever"
***
His gaze lingered.
Then—
He spoke.
"Excuse me…"
The receptionist glanced up again.
"What's wrong with the cat?"
***
The question caught both women off guard.
Celia stopped halfway toward the stairs, turning slightly.
The receptionist raised a brow, her expression shifting from annoyance to mild curiosity as her gaze moved from Arceus to the sleeping feline.
"It has Moonpaw Fever," she said casually. "Nothing urgent… but it's terminal."
***
Arceus nodded slowly.
Thoughtful.
"I see…"
His eyes remained on the cat.
"Rare condition," he said, his tone calm, almost analytical. "One in ten thousand feline-type monsters."
The receptionist straightened slightly.
Interest flickered.
"Triggered by full moons," Arceus continued, his voice steady, as if reciting something ingrained. "Restlessness. Vivid dreams. Sometimes aggression toward their own master."
A pause.
"Eventually… instability becomes permanent."
***
Silence followed.
Then—
The receptionist sat up fully.
Her earlier laziness gone.
"You know about Moonpaw Fever?" she asked, her tone sharper now, more engaged. "Do you have a feline companion?"
***
Arceus shook his head lightly.
"Nah."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Occupational hazard."
He shrugged slightly.
"I run a monster pet shop."
A small pause.
"You learn things… if you stay long enough."
***
Her gaze lingered on him.
Evaluating.
Then—
A small, amused smile formed.
"I thought you were a model," she said lightly. "Or maybe an artist."
A tilt of her head.
"Didn't expect 'shop owner.'"
***
Arceus blinked.
Surprised.
Then chuckled softly.
"That's…"
A pause.
"…the first time I've heard that since high school."
He smiled.
Genuine.
"I'll take it."
***
She smiled back.
Warmer this time.
And extended her hand.
"I'm Veronika."
***
"Arceus."
Their hands met.
Firm.
Brief.
A small, quiet connection forming in that moment—
***
Ahem.
***
Celia's voice cut in.
Polite.
But sharp enough to break the moment cleanly.
"Let's go, Arceus."
She stood near the staircase now, arms crossed, her tone carrying just a hint of firmness that hadn't been there before.
"We still have someone to meet."
***
Arceus withdrew his hand.
"Right. Sorry…"
He gave Veronika a small bow.
Then turned and followed.
***
Behind them, Veronika leaned back into her chair again, though not quite as lazily as before. She reached for the cat, lifting it gently into her arms, her fingers brushing through its soft fur.
The cat stirred.
Its eyes opened briefly.
A soft, quiet meow escaped it.
Then it settled again.
Sleeping.
As if nothing in the world could disturb it.
***
Upstairs—
The staircase creaked under their steps, each board giving a faint protest as they climbed, the sound echoing lightly in the otherwise quiet building.
First floor.
Second.
Then—
Third.
The air changed.
Heavier.
Stale.
And the smell—
Hit them immediately.
Alcohol.
Strong.
Lingering.
Thick enough to taste.
***
At the end of the corridor—
A man.
Slumped over a crooked table.
Surrounded by empty bottles.
Glass.
Wood.
Some tipped over.
Some still standing.
All drained.
His beard was wild, uneven, streaked with grey and black, his robes oversized and stained in layers that told stories no one wanted to hear.
No staff.
No music.
No order.
Just him.
And silence.
***
Celia stepped forward carefully.
"Excuse me…"
Her voice was polite.
Measured.
"Alaric Von Seraph?"
***
No response.
For a moment.
Then—
A groan.
Low.
Rough.
He shifted.
Turned.
His bloodshot eyes blinking slowly as if trying to remember how to focus.
"Hm…?"
His gaze drifted.
Lazy.
Then—
Locked onto Celia.
And everything changed.
He sat up.
Faster than expected.
Energy returning like a spark catching dry fuel.
"Oho!"
His voice was rough.
But lively.
"What's this?"
He leaned forward, a crooked grin forming.
"A beautiful young lady… in my humble tavern?"
He pushed himself up, stumbling slightly, arms spreading wide as if welcoming her into an embrace that hadn't been earned.
"Heavens must have heard me."
He stepped closer.
"What's your name, beauty?"
***
Celia stepped back instinctively.
Her body tensing.
Her eyes narrowing slightly—
But before she could react—
A hand moved.
Steady.
Controlled.
And placed itself between them.
***
Arceus stepped forward.
Just one step.
But enough.
His body angled slightly, positioning himself between Celia and the approaching man, not aggressively, but protectively, his presence quiet yet firm.
His eyes met Alaric's.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"Hello," he said simply.
"I'm Arceus."
A brief pause.
"I'm here on Miss Vanessa's recommendation."
***
Celia blinked.
Caught off guard.
Not by the words.
But by the action.
The subtle shift.
The way he stepped in without hesitation.
Without making it obvious.
***
Alaric stopped.
Then—
Chuckled.
Short.
Amused.
His gaze flicked between them.
Lingering.
"Your boyfriend's quite protective."
A grin spread.
"Nice."
***
Celia opened her mouth.
A hint of color rising to her cheeks.
"He's not—"