Charice took a deep breath, wiping his eyes before playing with his hair. The locks dangling between his fingers.
"Okay, I wonder if they have anything fun to read…" He mumbled, walking through the neatly assembled bookshelves, their auburn wood carrying the scent of old yet unused paper.
He felt his eyes twitch in annoyance.
"These aren't aligned at all…"
He groaned. They were in the correct isle, each separated by category, but any further sorting was out of the question.
'How could they put a green and red book next to each other!? This is a warcrime! It's not even sorted alphabetically…!'
Such anguish.
Charice shook his head like a disappointed mom – something he had seen many times from his own mother thanks to his young adult "boy failure" escapades – and got work.
The shelves were very high, thrice as tall as he was, so he searched for a ladder.
After he found one, he facepalmed.
"I could have just made one! Silly..."
He then painstakingly arranged the books to fit his whimsy – it was a hard choice, one that would scar him forever.
Sort by alphabet or color?
"Hmmm…"
Charice stroked his chin, tapping his foot in the meantime as well.
It was then that a surprised gasp could be heard.
"A-Ah! Consort!"
It was a maid, dressed in a traditional European dress – one that preserved dignity over lust.
She hurriedly bowed as low as she could, even debating on whether she should grovel, but Charice didn't let her.
"O-Oh! Uhm, its okay! No need to bow."
She stood up, and Charice could now clearly see a book in her arms, one she held at an angle so he couldn't tell its name.
"Were you reading something?"
Her mask, ornate and intricate, betrayed no expression. Every other part of her did.
"E-Eh, no! I wouldn't dare, consort!"
Charice played with the hem of his sleeves, quietly tiring of people constantly acting like this.
"Geez, I won't execute you, you know? I gave you rights…" He scratched the back of his head with a troubled mewl, before suddenly extending his hand and motioning for the maid to come forth.
"Come come."
She did so with a very audible gulp, Charice broke his poker face and smirked only for a second.
"Give me the book."
She handed it over, and Charice chuckled knowingly.
He had made a… Habit of writing back in his unemployed prime. When no one was around to role-play or erotically role-play, he would write out his most deranged fantasies.
The book was called 'Under the Taken Light'
"Werewolves and Vampires huh?"
She went rigid – cheeks so hot Charice could feel the air grow hotter.
"I… I uhm…" Oh how he wished to see her face, the reaction must be golden. Oh well.
"Come on, no need to be embarrassed! You do know who the author is, right?"
She shook her head, "U-Unfortunately no…"
"...Its me."
The silence was louder than any howl or hiss, broken only by a sudden-
"WHAT?! Wait, r-really?! I didn't know you were so…"
She didn't want to call him a pervert, or horny, yet it was hard to find more polite words to express her shock.
Charice took a small step back, flinching at the sudden volume.
"U-Uhm...you mean like cultured?"
She nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes! That's the word! A-Ah, I'm sorry for taking up your valuable time though, i-is there something you need?"
Charice hummed, and quietly pondered.
He could continue his autistic crusade, or he could tease this very, very tease-able presumably young girl.
"Well… You know… It has been a long time since my ink had touched anything not bureaucratic…"
He hinted, motioning to a nearby table with four chairs – plush and comfy, ideal for reading in the library. There was a couch nearby too, for expanded comfort.
He could see her realize what he meant in real time, and it made him giggle like a mischievous goblin. He made his choice.
"O-Oh! I would be honored!"
"Alright girl… Let's make something age gate worthy. I'm thinking size difference to start…"
"Oooo I see… Maybe some forbidden romance? Like a priest and their paladin?"
Charice blinked, why was this suddenly feeling a little targeted?
"S-Sure? Oddly specific but alright…"
As they kept writing, Charice realized more and more this was a very poorly disguised rom-com of himself and Maximus, but as things got worse and worse… It somehow made it good again.
After it was written, Charice cleared his throat and quietly held it with both of his arms.
"I… Am taking this to my bedroom… For proof reading!"
He assured, as the maid crossed her arms. "Really? Is that why you're blushing?"
Charice looked like a tomato, and he knew it. With a shy mumble, he held his cheeks and pressed his thighs together.
He was supposed to tease her! If only he knew what kind of boss monster he was dealing with, he wouldn't have gotten trapped like this.
The maid chuckled, they had spent roughly an hour writing something worthy of… Something, surely.
Sadly, his new compatriot had to return to work, and she absolutely refused to share her name – still a little shy, perhaps.
If they ever met again and Charice forgot her voice, he would likely not know.
He exhaled longingly, re-reading the text he had written.
After a few minutes of swinging his legs, palm holding his cheek, he stood up and made way for his room, quietly putting the paper next to the still burning candle.
His eyes, loomed over the wooden furniture, softly shimmering pink as he did so.
"Mh."
He still wasn't here. The Consort was growing impatient.
The nightstand groaned, a small bead of wax running down the candle akin to sweat.
"Haaa…"
Charice sighed, thick pink mist dripping down his skin as he did so – clinging to the Chord wrapped around his neck, a necklace of Order, Chaos, and whatever the pink core was.
'I wonder if he's doing alright…'
Of course he was. If Charice could manage, surely his beloved could handle this world with ease.
But if he wasn't-
Charice turned from the candle, and it ceased it sweating. He briskly walked to the fireplace, the symbols of Chaos and Order intimidating as hope-granting.
He looked into the fireplace, full of wood ready to burn – His eyes glowing brighter.
The wood cracked, and from that crack emerged a flickering spark.
It pulsed red, then blue, spreading to consume the rest of the firewood it could reach.
"Phew…" Charice breathed, locking his fingers together, closing his eyes, and falling to his knees before the flickering flame.
It felt awkward, Charice wasn't sure how to speak or what to say, but it was far easier than meeting them face to face.
So the Consort spoke.
"...Please, make sure Maximus makes it here in once piece..."
The flame crackled softly, then vanished, only the pink glow of Charice's eyes remaining.
"Frick, I hope that worked… M-Maybe I should do a proper ritual for once? But… Spending resources for no reason… Mmm…"
'I also have yet to speak to Michael since… That happened.'
Charice felt a shiver of revolt crawl beneath his skin, like an ant nibbling at his flesh.
He ran his hands through his hair, groaning. He was starting to go into work mode again, this could not stand! He deserved to goof off a little more.
He should relax.
Just a little longer.