She was being so genuine Joyce almost felt sick. Who gave her the right to beg for something on his behalf? Although he was only able to grow more appalled when the spirit raised a large paw and swatted Isabelle right on top of the head, the woman wincing and lifting herself when Neomyra started whining like an upset child. “Don’t bow to me! I don’t wanna be worshiped, I just want to be treated normally! I wanna be friends with humans, so don’t put me on a stupid pedestal! You’re so mean, why would you bow to me?! That’s mean, you’re so mean!” they shifted themselves into what looked like a naked human without genitals covered head to toe in fur, their feet and hands keeping their sharp claws as Neomyra stomped their foot and continued to whine.

“I’m just trying to look for something! I woke up in this world knowing that I needed to find it, but I don’t actually know what it is, just that I needed to find it before I do anything else with my life! I’ve spent these past twenty years since my birth looking for it non-stop and haven’t made any friends because I never stay anywhere for a long time, but then your swords in that room started tugging at my spiritual core, so I knew they must be related to what I’ve been searching for! That’s why I followed the magnetism all the way here and why I know it’s gotta be in this house somewhere, but I don’t what it is still and I don’t know where to look, which is why I was gonna ask you to help me find it, but you’re gonna treat me like some deity to be worshipped and not like a normal spirit and I don’t like that, I hate that!” Neomyra looked ready to cry, yelling loudly while pawing at the long whiskers on their face in great anguish, before they seemed to reach a conclusion in their upset mind and dramatically turned around to head deeper into the Spiritking estate all on their own. “Whatever, I’ll search for it myself! I don’t need the help of three stupid humans!”

“Huh? Wait, I’m sorry!” Isabelle called from her knees, lifting herself up as quickly as possible to try and chase the young spirit whose feelings she’d hurt, though she wasn’t swift enough. Instead, it was Joyce who stepped forward as quick as a whip and swatted a hand at the back of Neomyra’s head with the same amount of strength they’d used on Isabelle, the poor spirit snapping around to face him while their petty whining only grew louder and louder.

“Ow… ow, owie! What was that for?! You humans are being so mean, why are you being so mean to me…?!”

“Aren’t you the one who’s being mean?” Joyce scolded them harshly all of a sudden, Neomyra’s shoulders freezing before closing in on themselves, their back bending forward as they moved to cower their head in shame. “You trespassed into a room you weren’t supposed to, and then you stole a possession of mine. Then you took it to my house and trespassed there too before demanding we cook for you. I’m grateful that you cleansed everything, and the knowledge you are claiming to have undoubtedly deserves respect. But after all this stealing and trespassing you’ve been doing, you demand we help you search for something that is inside my estate, which just makes me think you were going to have us help you do that before you stole whatever it is too! And then you have the gall to complain about us not treating you normally? Have you done anything to warrant that we treat you normal?” Joyce hammered into them,  Neomyra pawing at their large feline ears with human hands, bending further down to curl into themselves and whine while being so viciously reprimanded.

Eventually, they even shifted all the way back into a tiny winged feline, even tinier than their usual form that was about the size of a slightly large but lithe adult cat. Now, for some reason, or maybe influenced by their vulnerable psyche, Neomyra appeared as a small kitten about the combined size of two large male hands, meowing weakly and pawing at Joyce’s pant legs while nudging their head into the shoes on his feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” they meowed pathetically, trying their best to burrow themselves in between Joyce’s ankles as much as possible while they kept pawing at their head in distress. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I won’t steal anything, I promise… please help me… please help me find it, mister… please, ahh—” their frail whining was cut off by a startled and drawn-out meow, Joyce having heard enough before he reached down and wrapped a hand underneath their soft stomach, lifting them like a weightless little doll before scooping the spirit up in his arms like you would hold a kitten, brushing a hand underneath their small chin to pet them when Neomyra tried to wriggle.

“Okay, I’ll help you. So long as you don’t steal anything,” he agreed gently, continuing to sweep back the spirit’s large feline ears that were the same size as its head, and when the winged kitten eventually stopped its struggling and fell limp with a purr, Joyce couldn’t help but feel strangely attached to it. Though if what they said was true, the two of them would actually be the same age, but that was a problem that could be sorted out another time. After all, it wasn’t unusual for him to try and help good spirits when the situation called for it.

Despite his seriousness and habit of distrusting anyone he had not met before regardless of whether they were a spirit or human, Joyce was extremely generous and was always willing to hand out his resources to those in need. It was why so many friendly spirits were drawn to him once they pushed past his cold exterior to meet the gentle man underneath, so Isabelle and June weren’t surprised when he began to treat the spirit like a baby and scratched its chest with affection. It seemed Neomyra’s pathetic whining had helped him come to the conclusion that they truly meant no harm and were just a little troublemaker who happened to wield a lot of power and information, and Joyce was quick to take it deeper into his family’s estate to help as he had promised. After all, if Neomyra was searching for something connected to the Spiritking family’s spirituality and legacy, it would most likely be an artifact they were being drawn to. And if that was the case, they had many different rooms to go through and hidden tunnels to navigate.

Although, unbeknownst to his companions, Joyce had another reason.. one that he didn’t quite know how to explain. Because the closer he was with this winged feline, the more his raging excess spirituality seemed to soothe inside his chest and body. It was always overflowing, and when it got to be too much, would cause him fevers and for his heart rate to dangerously spike. The S-Rank spirit doctor he saw that helped keep his condition in check with certain pills and exercises had been the one to tell him his negative symptoms were due to his body not being able to handle the overflow. And that warning had been what eventually led Joyce to the idea of creating faulty sword after faulty sword.

Opis and Glass, the human and spirit pair that worked as the doctor he’d mentioned before, had both warned him that even if this method helped to balance his spiritual core for a little while so that he could function and not be so much of a target, it would still drain his life force and drive him to an early grave, but to Joyce, that fact didn’t matter. Because it was either that or his spirituality tore apart his body from the inside and killed him anyway. At least the spirit sword option wasn’t as painful, and was the path that would probably allow him to live a little longer. But with Neomyra, whether the youthful spirit seemed to realize that’s what they were doing or not… it appeared as if the spirit was almost absorbing the excess spirituality that seeped from his broken core, absorbing it just like it had his talismans and barriers, as if it was his very core itself that they were attracted to. And while Joyce didn’t understand it, for some reason, his spiritual core was telling him that Neomyra… was home.

He didn’t trust that feeling, though. He would let them in for now, but Neomyra still needed to remain under his observation. They were a sweet little thief who just appeared to be following out the conditions of their birth, which was a rare but not unheard of phenomenon with some spirits depending on where and how they’d been born, but it wasn’t enough for Joyce to drop his guard completely. Either way, if Neomyra didn’t even know what they were supposed to be looking for and was just chasing a feeling connected to his own spiritual core… then that meant it would be his direct responsibility to guide them, for better or worse. Because if it was a problem connected to the past of the Spiritkings, then it was his problem now, as the man who’d been the head of his family since he was ten years old, and who had been chosen by the remnants of a dead god’s will to be their leader.