High-cuteness warning!
Caleb Ross would never forget the time he was explaining Ollie Blake's schedule for the coming month when Ollie dozed off mid-sentence—and then, right in front of him, turned into a tiny, palm-sized hamster.
Not only that, the little creature tugged at the sleeve beside it and pulled the fabric over itself like a blanket, then slept soundly, utterly unconcerned about Caleb's existence.
The poor agent tiptoed around Ollie for days. He eventually discovered this beast was mostly harmless—aside from being able to eat an alarming amount, there wasn't much else remarkable about him—and over time Caleb learned to live with Ollie occasionally turning into a hamster and begging for attention.
Who could resist a fluffy sesame-bun-shaped furball trying to be cute?
By now, though, Caleb was pretty much numb to it.
"You handle it yourself. I'm not going. Aren't you some kind of supernatural? Dress up so no one recognizes you. Do whatever you need to. I'll go back to the office and put in your leave."
"Huh? Not Caleb—"
Ollie's expression was heartbroken; his short, ashy hair somehow lost its luster, his eyes went wide, on the verge of tears. When Caleb first met him, that look would have melted him—but he wasn't that man anymore.
"Take care. Don't forget to come home for dinner tonight."
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Caleb drove off without looking back, leaving Ollie standing there like an abandoned, pitiful thing.
He managed to get to the villa Rowan Tate had been using to keep Jenna Carter and the other girls detained by some less-than-legal group by other, more convenient means.
The place was already cordoned off by Precinct One. Technically, Caleb didn't have to go in at all: he could have shown himself to Captain Harper, explained the situation, and had Jenna taken away. But Ollie was hovering in the grass outside the villa, overwhelmed by a strangely bleak vibe he couldn't shake.
Jenna Carter seemed to sense Ollie's presence. His form drifted lazily out of the villa, avoiding the sun.
"Mr. Blake, is there anything you need me to do?" Jenna asked.
"Huh? You're still here? Isn't a psychopomp supposed to have come for you? That shouldn't be—"
Jenna looked puzzled. "No, there wasn't. I've been sticking close to my body since I got back. When the police rushed in, nobody came after me. Actually, one of the officers seemed to be able to see me—she nodded at me and then… left me alone."
"Oh, that was Captain Harper. She's in charge of Precinct One. My uncle says she's the most gifted cultivator among humans these days."
Jenna didn't even know how the conversation had leapt to cultivation, but considering he was now a ghost floating about, being able to cultivate didn't sound impossible.
"Wait here. I'll try to sneak in and have a look. Something feels off."
Jenna had merit—good karma—and it was strange that no psychopomp had come to collect him. That suggested something had gone wrong.
He answered obediently and slipped back inside; a drifting spirit didn't draw attention.
Ollie thought for a moment, then shrank down into his palm-sized hamster form and started nosing around the villa's outer wall. He soon found a doggy hole dug under the fence.
Once inside, things were easier. Where wasn't there an open window? He was so tiny that when officers wandered by, he could flatten against the underside of something and hide his whole body.
Jenna hadn't been held with the other girls—he was locked alone on the third floor. Ollie's small size wasn't all advantages: his legs were too short; getting up three flights was like climbing a mountain.
Jenna waited by his body for almost half an hour before he heard movement outside his door.
Hopeful, he peered across the room—and saw a gray little hamster scrabbling toward him on stubby legs.
"I'm here, I'm here! Sorry, I'm a little small so it took me a minute."
Jenna: "..." Wow.
He remembered fans once saying Ollie looked like a little hamster. Turns out it wasn't just a joke.
"Can—can I pet you?" Jenna asked.
Whether to reincarnate was a secondary concern. The hamster was adorable.
Ollie: "...You can."
Damn it! He would never show his true form again! Why did everyone make that face when they saw him?
Jenna carefully scooped the hamster up from the floor and cupped him in his palm, using a finger to gently rub the little fluff on the head. The soft, yielding feeling made his ghostly heart flutter.
Ollie, meanwhile, examined the layout of Jenna's body and the room, peering for anything unusual. He could only pick up abnormal energy fluctuations; he wasn't a professional fortuneteller or feng shui expert. Professional jobs needed professionals.
"Nope. I don't know how to handle this. We need to find an expert."
Jenna waved it off. "It's okay, love… Mr. Blake, whether I reincarnate or not isn't important. Besides, didn't I promise to pick up a week's worth of takeout for you?"
"Don't think I don't know what you were going to order!"
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You humans are wicked!
"Ahem… sorry."
Small, solemn, trying to be useful—he was just a baby. Who could resist?
"You can't just shrug this off. It's serious. We don't even know if it's only you or if everyone will be affected. I'll see if I can find someone to look into it properly."
More importantly, Jenna's uncle had clout and connections in the area; if it was possible, they'd help dig into it.
"I'll do whatever you say."
Ollie had saved him. Doing this for him was the least he could do.
Without further ado, Ollie leapt from Jenna's hand like a little plush ball. The sight made Jenna's stomach drop—what if he hurt himself?
Going downstairs was faster than climbing. Ollie curled into a tiny ball, wrapped himself in aura, and rolled down the stairs.
Jenna: "...I could have carried you down, you know."
Hope he didn't land wrong.
Didn't he get a little less clever after transforming? He seemed more guided by instincts now.
Ollie rolled all the way to Captain Harper's feet. She was on the phone and didn't notice him at first.
"Squeak, squeak!" Harper! Harper!
"Yeah. The villa's accomplices—two were detained, one escaped. The girls they'd kept are all rescued and have been sent to the hospital. The hostage they had… we found him beyond help."
"Squeak! Squeak!" Hey! Notice me! Hello!
"He'd been dead for over two hours. It's clear he was already gone by the time they called us—there was no saving him."
"SQUEAK!!!" Harper!!!
"Captain, there's something hopping at your feet," one of the officers said. He'd been staring for a while.
Captain Harper was wearing a pair of three-and-a-half-inch stilettos made of hard leather. For a hamster that small, there was almost no weight to it—she could step on him a few times and not feel it.
She glanced down at last and saw the tiny hamster staring up at her with round, indignant eyes, like he was scolding her.
"Oh! Ollie—what are you doing here? You should have told me you were coming. Come here, come here—let me hold you!"
Captain Harper gently scooped him up, but the hamster was in a mood and turned his back on her, fluff all puffed up.
"Sorry, sorry—I was on the phone. Be a dear and forgive your sister this once, pretty please?"
Harper had a baby face, wore a high-fashion navy cheongsam modified to modern tailoring, a little furry shawl around her shoulders, and a dark brown wig. She was clearly dressed for a convention and had been drafted in to help—this world really was one big amateur production.
"squeak." Jenna's death might have hidden causes. Find a capable diviner to examine him—I couldn't tell from what I saw.
Harper went serious. "You think it's strange too? Then it isn't just me. When we were notified, we were braced for the possibility Jenna wouldn't make it. Still, our medics checked him—there were no fatal wounds."
"Squeak?" How could that be? If there were no fatal wounds, what killed him?
"He had many scars from long-term abuse. The most recent included a blow to the head that should have caused unconsciousness at most—an hour or two, then he'd wake up. But he was dead."
"It looks like the people who locked him up are being blamed, but they might not actually have killed him."
"Squeak, squeak." He had good karma. That psychopomp never came to collect him. I want to take him back to Northridge and investigate more. I don't think leaving him here is safe.
Harper thought that was reasonable. If Jenna's death was part of a larger conspiracy, keeping the body for just one more day might reveal clues. Northridge had important figures and plenty of spiritual energy—good for investigations.
"If we find someone suitable I'll contact you. For now, take him away. I'm worried we can't secure him here."
Occult people had a talent for making trouble. Precinct One didn't run on Harper's say-so alone—various factions were always jockeying. She wasn't confident they could protect the body.
"But I should warn you: so far no diviner's shown the gift level we need. The Order probably won't let us use their people, and there are too many frauds among the freelance diviners. It might be a while."
"Squeak squeak." If it doesn't happen, it doesn't. He's already dead; Northridge can handle a corpse.
Ollie decided: if nothing resolved in a few years, he'd have Jenna's uncle send him on to the Underworld to reincarnate. In that time, Rowan Tate's sentence would likely be handed down, easing some of the fixation—which might help Jenna's soul let go and have a better next life.
Divination was a near-universal skill among The Order, but if Jenna's problem was tied to that field, anyone there could be a suspect. Ollie thought to look to freelance diviners, but that line of work depended on innate talent—even more than cultivation sometimes—and the charlatans made it harder to find the right person.
Even if being in animal form made him a little less sharp, Ollie still came through when it mattered.
He left with Jenna.
The officer who'd earlier called Harper was still staring for a long time.
"Officer Kim, what are you looking at?" Harper asked.
Officer Kim stammered, then blurted out the question that had been on her mind.
"Captain… are you… really a princess?"