NOTUM: Study Of A Nightwalker ✔️

Rhyme

Rye dame, Rye dame,

Where are you?

Huh? Kid, is that you?

Child of sorrow, maid of rue~

Hey, talk to me, I know that it's you.

Kid?!

WAKE UP.

Firenze's eyes snapped open in haste, jolting himself up, he looked around.

The room was shrouded in the pale light of the sunset. The window was still open, the breeze rippling across the satin curtains. The cuckoo clock had already chimed six times, and the cuckoo had apparently given up trying to wake him.

He sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes and wishing for a cup of hot cocoa. The sun had fully set in the horizon and the skies were red as his irritated eyes. Sliding off, he noted the creature's sudden absence.

The headache persisted even after the sound sleep, which annoyed him even more.

There were muddy paw prints on the floor and leading all the way across till the window sill. The creature must've jumped on the buildings nearby and bounded off home, much to his happiness. He gently brushed off the red fur on his coat, and found clumps of dirt clinging to his skin.

On running a finger through his hair, he got a mixture of dandruff, blood, mud, and assorted foliage.

Boy, I need to take a bath.

Yes, you do. Phew, you smell like a pig let loose in a country fair!

And you're back, kid. What was all the chanting about?

None of your business. How far are we into getting separated?

Look, I'm very confused right now, alright? You pop out of nowhere in my head yesterday, you refuse to let me think about whatever Neil said to me with your screaming and chanting. You also refuse from giving me an explanation about what had happened yesterday.

You were attacked by a werewolf. You have a ghost stuffed inside you. You are being chased by a grain spirit and the man who calls himself my Master. At the end of the whole chasing and hunting process, you'll either die or live as vegetable. Oh, and either way, your friends are going to the grave.

I want you to save me, yourself, and everyone else involved from that man.

Firenze walked into the shower, throwing his clothes in a heap near the bathroom entrance. A slight gasp escaped from his mouth as he closed his eyes and felt hot thick water cascading down.

How far are you into figuring out where we are?

Not far at all, Barry. I'm working on it. All I can is that we're at a hotel called Niravellin.

Just as I thought, guess I'll be needed to solve this.

The next thing he felt was his head being rammed against the wall. It was like an involuntary reaction, not strong enough to cause lasting damage. Firenze reeled in pain as he held his forehead, the water calming the throbbing.

He stumbled out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dried himself.

What was that for?!

Idiot. You could've talked to your boss right then and there! You could've asked. . . I can't believe your stupidity and laziness. You probably think tomatoes are fruits, don't you?