Chapter 6 - Friday Morning

Illya woke up the next morning in a groggy stupor. She couldn't remember much from last night, what with her and Shula drinking themselves stupid.

Needless to say, eating that lava cake, which was spiked by the way, was not their last activity in the city. Shula had somehow convinced her to gallivant around the local pubs like a silly schoolgirl, an activity that would be exceptionally stupid even if she didn't have a massive target on her back. Michael had the unfortunate pleasure of being the sober shmuck, which she can't imagine was an easy task. She learnt a long time ago that inebriation doesn't inhibit her strength in almost any noticeable way. It was always an extremely volatile situation when she lets herself be put in that position.

So, why had they done that? Why had she let herself go like that?

Stress?

Frustration?

Fear

Milia?

Realistically, it was probably all the above. Too much was happening in too short of a time. In a single day, the setting of their daily lives had been turned on its head. Sure, she woke up in the same room, but did it feel the same?

Absolutely not.

The lights that were slowly brightening up upon sensing her awakening felt dimmer than they've felt in years. The fresh air that permeated the mansion smelt… stale. Logically, these were all in her head, but that didn't change the fact that it would likely be her new reality for the foreseeable future.

Their hated enemy was apparently still alive. Three witches were in one place, one of them being Milia. She'd have to keep an eye on her male friend while the girl was around. It wouldn't do to have him insult the group by being taken advantage of. That's not even mentioning the number of contingency plans that she'd need to make with all the chaos that would inevitably come in the next few days.

'So much to do…'

"… Groan~"

Getting up was as hard as would be expected. The drinks they'd had were hard, specifically being made to inebriate people like her. It was lucky for her that her specialty was blood magic. Already, she was carefully mixing her unbound aether with her blood to produce her unnaturally potent ichor. The alcohol dissolved on contact with it.

That said, it was a slow process. Well, compared to what she was used to. She estimated it'd be half an hour before her hangover faded completely, and that was if she continued to run it semi-passively like she was now. Shula would likely suffer far longer.

Her groggy eyes looked to her dark, wooden nightstand to see a cup of coffee present; no doubt warm from using the simple enchantment on the mug. Just behind it was her digital clock in a white wooden casing, a finish that matched the walls of her room.

The room itself was rectangular with a dome serving as an extension of the middle portion's roof. On the sides were large four-panel rectangular windows with black curtains accented with a swirled golden pattern, all closed of course. Around the windows and at the base of the dome-roof was pure golden casing that added a more classical, yet prestigious feel to the house's master bedroom. She didn't know if it was her own vanity or otherwise, but the classical golden style really made sleeping here much easier.

Slowly, she slipped off the bed covers and moved to dangle her feet at the edge of the king-sized bed.

"Urgh~ I told him to just leave me dressed on nights like that…" She muttered through her still pounding headache.

She was referring to her lack of dress. Her clothes from last night, which still had the faintest remnants of foul odor, were in her normal laundry hamper and, based on the lack of that 'grungy' feeling, she presumed he'd used magic to give her a basic cleansing, which was a much harder task than it sounded. He was too much of a goody-goody to go any further, the woose. She idly wondered if he left that there to let her know she'd vomited on herself, or if he tried cleaning it and couldn't smell the leftover odors; her nose was much stronger than his after all. She was pretty sure it was the former. As dense as he was, he probably wanted her to understand the whole situation before jumping to conclusions, not realizing she didn't particularly mind in the first place.

All she was wearing was a set of comfortable beige lingerie, her usual type of sleepwear if a different color.

'Hmph~ why does he always choose beige? I know he prefers black. The slut's made that abundantly clear…'

Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled to the hanger by her bed and quickly donned her cerulean-patterned, black velvet robe. It didn't cover much, but it really didn't need to. Her mansion wasn't that large, so its small staff only came after noon. So long as the house stayed clean and maintained, they were paid well regardless.

Slowly, she left her room and shuffled down the wooden spiral stairs and into their large, open kitchen.

There he was, sitting at the kitchen's tall, dark wooden table, reading those stupid fantasy novels of his.

Unlike her room, that was more like a museum piece than what would normally serve as a room, the kitchen was more modern with marble-topped counters, and a large island in the center. It was a different facility than what the staff used themselves. This was reserved for the three of their use. It was Michael's request when the building was being designed.

"Shouldn't you still be asleep? You must've been much more exhausted than the two of us." She asked almost unconsciously. It was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw the poorly hidden traces of exhaustion in his eyes.

Without words, he looked at her, smiled, and pointed to his right.

Her eyes followed his finger to find the oven's clock reading '4:00PM.' and instantly, her heart sank.

"I slept the whole day…" She muttered, mortified.

"How do you feel?" he asked, as if the earlier point was irrelevant.

"Wh-"

"How do you feel? Better?" He calmy insisted, interrupting her shock.

She paused for a moment; her brain now able to process his question.

"I guess I do…" Now that she thought of it, her worries felt so much more distant than they did yesterday. Sure, it was an entire day away, but she felt it should've taken much longer to make this much progress.

He put his book down and gave her his undivided attention. "Sometimes it's best to cut loose, especially after a day like yesterday. Shula wasn't the only one hiding their stress. I noticed it in your conversation with Milia. Even if you're normally antagonistic, you were in rare form yesterday."

She wanted to deny it, to retaliate, but she held her breath. She'd thought about it herself on the way down, reflecting as she slowly walked down the steps.

Her face turned to the side. "… I'm sorry, and… thank you for taking care of us."

He just sat there and seemingly looked up into space. "Don't you remember what we promised each other all those years ago on the day we escaped from that awful facility?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but… she couldn't; the words got stuck in her mouth.

Without needing her input, he continued. "That we would always be there for each other, that in this foul world we'd found ourselves in, either by birth or circumstances, that we'd fill the holes in one another that those scientists cratered in our hearts. You don't need to thank me for taking care of you, Illya. While I won't pretend I enjoyed it, I'm happy to help when needed, and I'd say, you two desperately needed it this time."

Did the room get warmer? Or wetter for that matter? It must be a water leak. She'd take issue with the staff the next time she saw them.

But before that, she found her body moving on its own.

--- With Michael ---

'How long has it been since I've seen her like this? I mean, those are tears. Illya. is. Crying.'

While it wasn't beyond silent sobs, the combination of two extremely unlikely events short circuited his brain. It was so absurd that he couldn't properly react when she threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly that he could literally feel his bones fracturing under the strain.

"Ahk…" He bit back the cry of pain threatening to escape from his throat.

He couldn't even properly enjoy the rare moment of bliss as he had to ready his aether to reinforce his body as best as he could. While not nearly as skilled or quick at it as her, he did have some means of reinforcing himself.

Just as he was about to though, the pressure on him lifted as Illya's hug immediately loosened. It didn't stop, just relaxed enough to be non-damaging. It was a good thing she's doing this now, instead of the previous night; she wouldn't have been capable of restraint otherwise. He very likely wouldn't have survived if she had, reinforcement or not.

Now, with only the sharp ache of his injuries to worry about, he finally returned his fractured attention the hug.

They stood there for a moment, not saying anything. He wasn't surprised either. His friend didn't show gratitude through overt displays of affection like this, nor was vulnerability something she was comfortable with.

He wasn't particularly comfortable with it either if he was being honest.

It wasn't because she wasn't attractive, of course; she absolutely was. Combined with her current meekness and the fact that this robe was all she was wearing other than her nightwear, and any red-blooded man would be ecstatic for this opportunity; he wasn't an exception. He was very much enjoying the moment.

Instead, his discomfort had more to do with his own awkwardness concerning close contact with people. Handshakes and passing hugs were one thing between close associates, but he could hardly be called graceful with anything more than that. It could be best explained like this: he would be uncomfortable because he couldn't tell if they were or not.

Obviously, that didn't apply to this situation. He'd feel it very clearly if he was. Still, that didn't eliminate the feelings he'd long associated with the act itself, culminating in a strange mixture of mild discomfort and restrained ecstasy.

"… Where's the house crew? Shouldn't they be here by now?" Illya asked, head still buried in his chest.

"I canceled their shift today; their pay is unaffected, of course."

"Of course." She replied immediately. "They should be grateful. There're not many jobs as cushy as this."

"Very true, to receive the pay of a highly qualified butler in the royal family's estate, while only working a quarter as long or hard, you're truly a generous task master." He playfully replied, humoring her.

She puffed up a bit. "I'm glad you understand. If only you were this wise all the time."

"Meh, it'd be boring if I was. We can't all be perfect."

"I guess not."

Seeing that smug look, he decided to take a shot of his own, "If you only you were as affectionate as this all the time. It's a nice change of pace."

She pushed back while staying in the hug. Looking up at him with a glare, "Oh? Are you saying the way I act is a problem?"

"No…?" He replied almost questioningly, and by the intensifying of her glare, it clearly wasn't the right answer. "It's more like ice cream. I love it, but too much at a time gives the worst migraines."

Confusion marred her face. "You're comparing my behavior to ice cream?"

He shrugged as best he could. "I never said I was good at analogies."

"Even still, maybe you should've chosen a better one. A spicy reference would've been more appropriate."

"At least you're self-aware."

"Hmph~" She pushed him back, breaking the hug, and turned to grab something from the pantry.

He chuckled at how fast her attitude could turn and sat back down.

She immediately grabbed the cereal, not taking even a moment to consider. "We're leaving in an hour. It's time to see that kid down at the hospital. He should be fixed up enough to resuscitate."

"That could probably wait a few days, couldn't it? Normally, hospitals don't let law enforcement like us do that."

Illya gave him the side-eye. "And…? How is that relevant?"

He looked up from his book to return the look. "Because it can be unsafe for their health. You know, the hospital's highest focus."

She waves her hand dismissively. "That's none of my business. They have their priorities and I have mine, and in cases concerning national security, mine always wins. The kid can sleep when he's answered my questions."

"How cold." He solemnly muttered, lamenting at what Illya wanted them to put this guy though. "They went through all that, and we're not even letting them recover in peace?"

She didn't look up at him, just focused on preparing her breakfast. "He'll be thankful that we took out the mastermind behind his misery. A little discomfort at the start is more than worth it for the reward."

"And Shula?" He asked with resignation, realizing that Illya wasn't changing her mind. He couldn't hear an ounce of regret, not that he was expecting any.

"Will stay here." She replied succinctly. "My magic expedited my recovery, but hers won't, not without a price.

"Yeah, I remember. I just thought you would've wanted to wait for her. Annoyingly enough, she actually drank more than you. I had to give her a pretty strong detox to keep her from experiencing violent alcohol poisoning."

"Really…" She thumped her fist against the marble countertop. The moment contact was made, a golden barrier lit up looking like a spread of battered, stained glass. The closer to her fist the matrix was, the brighter it was, with the furthest edges being practically invisible.

"Why phantasmal being like us fall prey to mundane poisons like alcohol is beyond me."

Michael let out a quiet sigh. 'I'm really glad I remembered to place that barrier enchantment over the table. It's times like these when the investment pays dividends. Even when she's not trying, her strength is ridiculous.'

"It's not a mundane poison Illya; you know that." He tiredly explained. "At least, not really."

"Yeah, but it's not like we had ambrosia or anything. We should've been fine, hungover at worst."

"Actually…" Michael awkwardly muttered.

Illya's head snapped back at him with growing horror. "No…. tell me we didn't…"

"Definitely not the pure stuff, but closer to the end of the night, you guys bought stuff with 5% premium ambrosia. You two spent almost four months' worth of your discretionary savings last night…"

Illya's eyes flashed with a brief anger before she quickly regained her composure. He wasn't sure if it was at him, herself, or the general situation, but he was glad she wasn't bottling up anything else. Otherwise, it would've made this an annoying morning.

"Just…sigh~" She caught her words and let out a tired sigh. "Just eat your food so we can go. I'd rather not know what else happened last night. I'll just take the loss."

He didn't respond; he didn't feel he could. There were a lot of things that happened last night, and they lost a lot more than four-months' worth of income. Unfortunately for Illya, she managed the money.

He most certainly wasn't looking forward to her learning the full truth.