8 months after joining the hunter organisation.

After joining the Vermillion guild, I embarked on my journey towards official certification! Along this exciting path, I also forged wonderful friendships that I cherish deeply…. But I’m not sure what food to get and where my money has gone. I can't wait for the final test…

Wednesday, October 16^th –10:47 AM

I blinked twice, feeling a chill wash over me as cold sweat trickled down my forehead. The glow of my phone screen flashed ominously in shades of red and black, casting unsettling shadows across the room. Meanwhile, an urgent news alert blared from the television, its voice slicing through the heavy silence with a sense of impending doom regarding the rise in living costs. My heart raced, and all I could think about was which KFC meal deal to choose: the Gravy Dipping Double Bucket for £11.99 or the Party Bucket for £34.99...

My roommate Patricia glared at me, her deep brown eyes burning with intensity as she muttered, “Man, the world is ending right now, and all you can think about is KFC. Such Big back behaviour! But if you must pick one, at least choose the Party Bucket for £34.99, and be sure to order extra hot fillets and original chicken, along with a side of Fanta or Coke. Or maybe we should get Nando's instead; I heard there’s a special deal going on!”

Just as I turned to Patricia, about to reply, Bang! Emily barged in, her golden hair flowing in the wind, but her azure eyes were vacant. She sighed heavily, glancing around the room with bloodshot eyes before collapsing to the ground. The news played in the background as we nervously rushed to her side. Kc held a small bag of Haribo gummies, Skyler had her Reverse Headstock Guitar still plugged into a red and black speaker, and Harper, as quiet as ever, clutched a Shakespeare classic in her hand. Clover was covered in dough and flour, with red food colouring staining her fingertips as she held a tray of freshly baked strawberry shortcake and lemon tea.

I glanced at Emily, clearing my voice. The room fell silent, all eyes on me, as I asked, gently patting her trembling back, "What's wrong? Is it that deadbeat—I mean, generously kind—boyfriend of yours, Dio? Or did you walk under a ladder and pass a black cat?"

With her eyes glistening and tears threatening to spill over, she gazed up at me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist as her body quivered. In a voice barely above a whisper, she exclaimed, “We’re broke, and I don’t just mean financially strapped. We’ve plunged into a stage of life that’s far more daunting … poverty! P-O-V-E-R-T-Y, with a capital P and an exclamation mark!”

“What the hell!” Harper exclaimed, barely listening to the murmurs as she dashed towards her room.

 Clover didn’t fare any better—she fainted. Meanwhile, Patricia hurriedly opened the banking app and saw a big fat zero where one million pounds once resided. Imaginary butterflies seemed to flutter out of her phone. At that moment, Joan, who had been taking her century-long shower, dashed into the living room, half-naked with a towel draped around her, clutching her phone.

“Guys, check the bank account! It’s empty! We’ve either been robbed or Patricia got scammed by that Indian guy who called last week again!”

Patricia stood in the middle of the room, dry but deeply exasperated. "Right, because I’m obviously the reckless one." She gestured toward Emily, still sprawled on the floor like a tragic Victorian ghost. "You spent fifty quid on a 'spiritually infused' garden rock."

Emily lifted her head just enough to look offended. "It had energy, Patricia."

Patricia scoffed, "Yeah, the energy of financial ruin."

Skyler’s guitar let out another distorted screech as she absentmindedly strummed. Joan, still dripping from her shower, clutched her towel dramatically, watching the chaos unfold with amused interest. KC—completely unbothered—changed the TV from the news to The Lord of the Rings, chewing a Haribo like this was peak cinema.

Then Harper stormed out of her room, glancing at Clover for a second before holding up her phone like it was physical proof of Patricia’s incompetence. "What. The. Hell." She turned the screen toward them. A huge zero blinked from their bank account.

Silence.

Then Joan cackled, nearly dropping her towel in her glee.

Patricia rubbed her temples. "For your information, the last time I got scammed was three days ago—"

She froze.

Harper narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

Patricia cleared her throat, refusing to make eye contact. "No."

KC popped another Haribo in her mouth, eyes still on the TV. "Yeah, that tracks."

Clover woke, sticky dough clinging to her skin. Bloodshot black eyes flickered across the chaos, searching, scanning, absorbing every detail. She stayed still.

 Watching. Calculating. Waiting.

"You see, Joan, I’m not the problem—it’s you!"

Joan stepped forward, brown eyes gleaming, pupils tightening with agitation. "You always say that!" A scoff. "Maybe you’re the issue!"

Skyler rolled her shoulders, electric-blue eyes shifting between speakers. "If we’ve got time to argue, we’ve got time to fix it," she muttered, adjusting her glasses, mouth curling into something close to a smirk.

Patricia let out an exasperated breath, golden eyes flashing with barely contained irritation. "Franchement, vous êtes insupportables!" she snapped, throwing up her hands. "Toujours à crier, à blâmer—et pour quoi? Rien n'avance! J’en ai marre de ce chaos inutile!" Her words spilt out fast, frustration thick in her tone. "You lot are unbearable—always shouting, blaming, but nothing gets done! I am so tired of this useless mess!"

Joan blinked. "Right. What?"

Patricia inhaled sharply, composing herself. "Talk less, do more," she said, flicking a hand in dismissal. "Or do you just enjoy the drama?"

Harper exhaled, her fingers pressing into her temples. Her violet gaze was sharp yet measured as she glanced at Clover, who was sitting on the ground covered in a cold sweat, her eyebrows twitching and fingers shaking. Harper thought to herself, "A snake in sheep's clothing," as her violet eyes glared at Clover, her body slightly shifting in response.

 They weren’t seeing it. Not yet. But they would.

Emily remained quiet, azure eyes flickering—too much energy, too much tension.  Her eyes landed on Clover's twitching body.

She knew the pattern. She knew how this would end.

"Oh, give it a rest, Harper!" Joan’s voice lashed out, frustration curling in the edges of her words. "You sit there watching like you’ve got all the answers—so? Say something!"

KC tensed near the television, brown eyes darting toward the argument before retreating. Should I step in? No. Not worth it.

I adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses, crimson eyes sweeping over the wreckage. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock pressed forward. Unbothered. Waiting. What thou dream’st is rot and ruin, falsehood wrapped in sweet undoing. Shatter glass and break the chain, rend the flesh, dissolve the vein!"

It's almost time for training for the case in four months with the hunters: those beast hunters and magicians.

Clover met my gaze—just for a moment. Her pupils widened, uncertainty blooming before shrinking again. She swallowed hard. Sweat continued to drip as she rubbed her hands, lips dry.

 Not yet.

I took a deep breath, tension crackling like a live wire. Clover sat silently, watching everything unfold, while KC remained immersed in *Lord of the Rings, * the flickering screen casting shadows across her face. Emily curled on the floor, damp eyes fixed on the carpet as if trying to disappear. Joanne and Patricia’s earlier argument still clung to the walls, unresolved, like an echo refusing to fade. Skylar stood rigid by the door, jaw tight, fingers twitching.

Then—bang.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall. A framed photo tumbled down, glass splintering onto the floor. Anastasia stumbled in, unsteady on her feet, smoky-eyed and draped in careless confidence, her usual dramatics laced with the unmistakable haze of alcohol.

She swayed, giggling softly. “Did someone call for a disaster?” She took a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling lazily before flicking ash onto the pristine carpet.

Skylar’s eyes widened, fury flashing across her face as she stomped toward Anastasia. "Are you *serious* right now? I spent *two hours* cleaning this morning!"

Anastasia smirked, swaying as she adjusted her purse strap. "Life’s messy, Sky. You should try embracing the chaos."

Skylar groaned, dragging a hand down her face before briskly turning away, muttering under her breath. “I *swear* she’s allergic to order.”

KC finally tore her gaze from the TV and stood, her movements swift and graceful, catching Anastasia’s wrist just as she tipped forward. “Alright, drama queen, let’s get you settled before you turn this place into *actual* rubble.”

Anastasia pouted, looking up at KC. “You’re so *nice* to me. Unlike *some* people.” She shot Skylar a pointed look.

Clover scoffed, arms crossed. “You’re a tornado, Ana. What do you *expect*?”

Anastasia grinned through the haze, wobbling slightly. “A little more *appreciation* for bringing excitement into your dull lives.”

Emily sniffled from the floor, wiping her face with her sleeve. "It's always something."

Patricia finally spoke, shaking her head. “You know, Ana, one day, you’ll come in here and need our help—like, *real* help. And we won’t know if you’re just playing the fool or in trouble."

Joanne let out an exaggerated sigh. "I vote we put a bell around her neck so we know when she’s about to *ruin* the atmosphere."

Then, before Anastasia could respond, her cigarette slipped from her fingers, tumbling onto the floor with a faint hiss.

Skylar let out an actual *gasp*, rushing forward, grabbing a nearby dustpan and broom with terrifying speed. "I *cannot* with you!" she barked, sweeping aggressively, as if cleaning soothed her fraying nerves.

I sighed, stepping in, plucking the cigarette from the ground before tossing it into the rubbish. "This isn't even the *good* stuff," I muttered, shaking my head.

KC snorted. "Oh, so *now* we have standards?"

Still muttering curses under her breath, Skylar ran the vacuum over the carpet, practically assaulting it with every stroke. "If you're going to ruin your lungs, at least don't ruin *my* sanity."

Anastasia groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically. “You all *love* to gang up on me. It’s bullying. Someone call a lawyer!”

Clover smirked. “You think this is *bullying*? Sweetheart, we're giving you *free life advice*.”

Harper rubbed her temples, exhausted. “Can we focus on *getting her sober* now?”

I grabbed a glass of water and handed it to Anastasia. “Here. Drink this, brain cell killer.”

She accepted it, taking a sip, then grinned lazily at me. “You *love* that I’m insufferable.”

I rolled my eyes, but even Skylar cracked a reluctant smile. Chaos contained—*for now*. Anastasia sighed dramatically, holding the glass of water as if it were a great burden. She took slow, exaggerated sips, making a face each time. "Ugh, this is just *so* bland," she muttered.

Clover scoffed. “That’s the point. It’s *water*, not an artisanal cocktail.”

Anastasia tilted her head, blinking slowly. “You know what would make this better? Vodka.”

Skylar threw up her hands. “No. Absolutely not. You are *done* for the night.”

KC sat back down on the couch next to her, watching her closely. “You're gonna wake up tomorrow regretting everything, and I am *not* nursing your hangover.”

Joanne smirked. “I vote we just toss her outside and let her sleep in the garden.”

Patricia laughed softly. “She wouldn’t even make it *out* the door without falling over.”

I took the glass from Anastasia’s hands and gave her a pointed look. “You're drinking this, whether you like it or not.”

Anastasia groaned but leaned her head against KC’s shoulder, defeated. “Fine. But only because I love you all so much.”

Skylar snorted, finishing up with the Hoover. “Yeah, sure, *love*. That’s why you flicked ashes all over my clean floor.”

Clover shook her head. “Let’s be real, she’d do it *sober* too.”

Harper sighed, finally sitting down. “Are we done with the dramatics? Can we have, like, five minutes of peace?”

KC raised an eyebrow at Anastasia. “Well? You gonna behave now?”

Anastasia let out a long, slow exhale, then gave a lazy smile. “Define *behave*.”

Skylar groaned. “I hate her.”

But as laughter slowly filled the room—tension dissipating with each exchanged insult—it became clear that, despite everything, none of them truly did. Not even *me*.

For now, the storm had passed. I still couldn’t shake off my worry about where all our money had gone. After a few days, I checked my account, and to my surprise, the money had returned. I initially thought it was a glitch, but a nagging feeling remained, especially due to the way Clover kept avoiding me, casting furtive glances my way. Perhaps I was just overreacting or being overly sensitive.

Then, Clover tapped my shoulder, forcing a strained smile. "At least our money is back," she said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "But do you know when we’ll have our final exam?"

"I’m not sure," I replied. I noticed cold sweat trickling down Clover’s forehead, and her palms felt clammy as she walked away. A small voice echoed in my mind, screaming: "What thou dream’st is rot and ruin, falsehood wrapped in sweet undoing. Shatter glass and break the chain, rend the flesh, dissolve the vein!"

This world is a facade—its beauty hiding a deeper decay. You must bring it down. Tear apart the illusion. Break what binds you. Wake up.

Harper cast a suspicious glance at Clover’s retreating figure, a warning ringing in my mind. Be careful, I thought. Until that day...