Chapter 18 Part 1

“…”

The beast in the throes of its rage seemed to quiet down.

One second. Two seconds… The force pressing down on the beast’s nape felt safe enough now. He slowly released his grip…

In the next instant, Ode whipped his head around and viciously tore a clump of radiant mist from the ceaselessly fracturing and reforming river of light behind him!

“!?” No one could have guessed the purpose behind Yog-Sothoth’s string of actions at that moment. But if They possessed emotions, the feeling in Their heart would surely have been one of utter speechlessness.

They reacted with blinding speed, jabbing Ode’s Adam’s apple just before he could gulp down the clump of mist. The physiological reflex made him retch involuntarily, mouth flying open. The bulge in his cheek deflated in a rush as the light mist spilled out and dissipated into nothingness in the surrounding space.

Furious, Ode stomped down on the wooden boat for leverage and spun around. He was just about to drive this destabilizing nuisance away from his newly claimed territory—in the most satiating manner possible—when the space before his eyes suddenly emptied.

“Ruh…?”

A low, puzzled rumble rolled out from Ode’s throat.

He circled the rocky islet warily, patrolling several times to confirm that every nook and cranny—even the grass roots crushed beneath the stones—held no trace of that irritating pest. Only then did he return to the side of the wooden boat and settle down with prim dignity. His hand reached out to gently stroke the carved pattern.

It was eleven at night now, well past Ode’s usual bedtime.

The beast, exhausted from battle after battle, finally felt the weight of sleepiness. He let out a massive yawn. His green eyes swept over the empty islet one final time in vigilance before he curled up tight against the carved pattern, lowered his head, and slowly closed his eyes.

·

Ode awoke to the salty, savory aroma of grilled fish.

His eyelids hadn’t even fluttered open before his mouth began to water at the scent of cumin and lemon. When he finally pried his bleary eyes apart, he felt utterly refreshed and relaxed, as if he’d spent the previous night pounding a punching bag to vent all his pent-up emotions…

The memories from before sleep gradually resurfaced—from inhaling the sea like a whale to smashing awake a volcano. Ode instinctively reached for his flat, gurgling belly, only to brush against the distinctive, luxurious texture of llama wool fabric. “…?”

He looked down without thinking and saw that his previously bare body was now neatly clad in a full llama wool suit. The material, more expensive and delicate than mere sheep’s wool and suited only for indoor banquets, was now caked in the wet sand of the gravel beach. It left Ode… left Ode…

“Cavendish.”

He didn’t need to turn his head to know who was grilling fish behind him.

Moving as cautiously and stiffly as if he were draped in fine china, Ode clambered to his feet from the ground. He gritted his teeth a little as he said, “If you’ve got that much money, spend it on something meaningful.”

“To me, this is meaningful.” Cavendish sat on the beach with a book laid flat across his knees. Heaven only knew where he’d gotten the red velvet armchair beneath him.

He gave Ode an elegant nod of the chin. “Does it fit? Classic Savile Row duke cut, with a slight taper at the waist. It really shows off your figure—”

“As if you could see it.” Ode’s tone dripped with sarcasm. He brushed the sand from the fabric in a few sharp pats, then leaned over Cavendish’s shoulder to peer at the book. Another jolt of shock hit him. “You’re still reading The Little Prince?? I told you two aren’t right for each other. Can’t you just let it go?”

“Where’s the mismatch?” Cavendish let out a disapproving sound. “I’ve been rereading the story lately, and I’m surprised to find myself empathizing deeply with one of the characters.”

“…” Ode said, “Really? Which one?”

“The pilot, naturally.” Cavendish sounded surprised. “I even recited a passage for you back at the Deep One Outpost. Don’t you remember? But my feelings weren’t as profound then… Have a look at this part.”

Cavendish actually cleared his throat, his fingers tracing the inked words on the page as he read aloud: “‘The little prince sat down for a while and then said: [Does your poison work quickly? Will it be certain not to make me suffer for too long?]

I rushed toward him, still not understanding.

[Go away now. I want to come down!] the little prince said.

So I looked toward the foot of the wall and gave a start. There was a yellow snake right there, rearing itself up toward the little prince. This yellow snake could strike you dead in half a minute.’”

“…” Ode simply stared at Cavendish with an expressionless gaze, wondering what ivory tower nonsense the man would spout next.

Cavendish looked up. “Don’t you find the little prince in the story utterly infuriating? Who with any common sense would converse with a venomous snake? Who with any rationality would throw away their life for a rose they can never reach again, spouting lines like ‘The place I must go is too far away. I can’t go there carrying my body, so I must die and let my soul find it’?”

“Cavendish.” Ode’s voice carried a warning. “You’d better think over your next words a few times in your head before saying them out loud. I don’t want to end up fighting you before we get to any real business.”

But Cavendish had his own stubborn streak. “I see the little prince as the epitome of a romantic fool—abandoning a tangible life for some impractical dream. It’s utter stu—”

Thump!

Three minutes later.

Cavendish pressed a handkerchief to his bruised forehead, somehow managing to look elegant even still. “I truly sympathize with the pilot. He has to deal with a little prince hell-bent on dying. Reason falls on deaf ears, and advice goes ignored. Everyone pities the little prince for dying in the name of love, but who spares a thought for the pilot who has to endure it all?”

“…” Ode thought to himself, who was going to spare a thought for him—the lover of flowers who had to endure this pearl-clutching critique of fine literature?

He swallowed the last bite of grilled fish, then elegantly dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. He had to admit Cavendish’s surprisingly impressive cooking skills, but one didn’t bite the hand that fed—or softened one’s stance after a free meal. He opened his mouth and went straight for it: “Just who are you, Cavendish?”

Ode leaned forward, closing in on him. “I’ve got a theory I can hardly believe myself—”

Cavendish interrupted with polite rudeness. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t believe it—”

Ode ignored him entirely. “I think you’re Yog-Sothoth.”

The beach fell quiet for a few seconds, broken only by the cries of seagulls wheeling through the morning mist.

Cavendish spoke slowly. “So… you think Yog-Sothoth would grill fish for you, dress you up, and meekly obey under your threats—”

“You call flattening three rooms in a night raid and popping up during stealth ‘meek obedience’? I’d love to know what disobedience looks like in your book.” Ode’s sarcasm was ice-cold. “And if that’s not it, how else do you explain Yog-Sothoth’s behavior?”

“I tried to chisel out the marriage contract, but They stopped my self-harm. I plunged into madness, and They dragged me to this island to see my parents’ relic—”

Cavendish shrugged casually. “Maybe that ‘marriage contract’ of yours links you two, so They stopped you from dying—”

“And if I stayed mad, would They turn mad right along with me?” Ode fixed Cavendish with a stare. He braced one hand on the back of the chair behind Cavendish’s shoulder and slowly leaned in. Then, in a thoroughly rude and invasive manner, he buried his straight, cool nose-tip deep into the hollow of Cavendish’s shoulder and took a long sniff. “And why do They smell just like you—of Royal Water, right? That’s the cologne’s name.”

“That’s no behavior for a British gentleman.” Cavendish gripped Ode’s shoulder with polite but unyielding force and guided him back. “But I can tell you the truth—I’m a wizard, a follower of Yog-Sothoth.”

Ode gave him a look that screamed, Yeah, right.

It wasn’t as if he could see anyway. Cavendish remained utterly nonchalant. “Perhaps because I’m the most gifted of all the followers, I’m granted frequent audiences with the deity—especially during our time in Dreamcatcher Town. The cologne scent must have rubbed off then.”

“…” Ode said, “I’d have to sit right on top of you to pick up that strong a whiff of your cologne. Did you take a perfumed bath with your god or something?”

Cavendish’s bland expression carried the utter shamelessness of someone thick-skinned as they come. “Perhaps.”

Ode: “…………”

Person—god—this guy, how could he be so brazen!?

Cavendish remained perfectly composed. “But I’m curious too. Beyond what you’ve mentioned, what other clues led you to that suspicion?”

Too many. The suspicious points piled up endlessly. And the other man didn’t seem particularly invested in hiding his identity one way or the other. Revelation or not, he was fine either way.

In fact, reviewing their encounters, Ode even felt as if Cavendish half-expected him to uncover the truth—despite the man’s initial clear intent to kill him.

“…” Ode straightened up, not following Cavendish’s prompt. “Let me tell you a story instead. Consider it payment for this suit. I’m certain that if I sold this tale to… followers like you, I’d earn more than enough to buy it outright.”

He settled back by the wooden boat. His palm gently caressed the carving. “You already know the premise—this should be the second time I’ve gone through all this.”

“Suppose every one of these crises, I’ve already faced once before. Does forging the marriage contract factor into that as well?”

Flat-out denial would be foolish. Cavendish’s frost-colored lashes blinked once, and that strange sense of anticipation overflowed from his face—the one that clearly cared little for human life or death. It wasn’t overt, but because it was utterly unmasked, it was impossible to ignore.

“Maybe so.”

Ode stared hard at Cavendish. “Do you think Yog-Sothoth would be thrilled to suddenly find Themselves shackled in marriage to a puny, insignificant human?”