Eryx had just reached for the door.
The lights were dimmed to evening mode, the habitats cycling into their night settings automatically—cool blues for the arctic enclosures, warmer amber for the spiders, soft neutral glow for the foxes. The Ghastling hovered lazily near the ceiling, half-asleep, ribbons drifting like slow-moving clouds.
He pulled the door inward.
It stopped.
Not slammed. Not shoved.
Just… held.
A single hand pressed against the glass from the outside.
Eryx blinked, then leaned forward slightly, peering through the reflection of the streetlights.
"…Huh."
He released the handle and stepped back as the door eased open again.
Jeanne stood there, posture relaxed, coat immaculate, expression politely neutral—though her eyes flicked immediately past him, drawn not to the shop, but upward.
To the Ghastling.
The creature stirred, sensing attention, and gave a soft, curious trill.
Jeanne smiled faintly.
"Good evening," she said. "I hope I'm not too late."
Eryx glanced at the clock behind the counter, then back at her.
"Technically? Yes," he said easily. "Practically? Depends how fast you talk."
That earned him a quiet chuckle.
She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a gentle chime. The street noise vanished, replaced by the familiar hum of mana circulation and the soft ambient sounds of beasts settling in for the night.
"I won't take much of your time," Jeanne said. "I wanted to stop by earlier, but responsibilities… accumulate."
Eryx nodded sympathetically. He didn't ask what kind.
People like her always had responsibilities.
They made small talk first.
The weather in Crescent Ward. The steady increase in Beast licensing requests. The quality of restaurants near the academy district—Jeanne mentioned one had overcooked her steak once and never forgiven itself.
Eryx listened, responded, let the conversation breathe.
Then she got to the point.
"I was hoping to purchase some of the… Emerald Dust," she said carefully. "Directly."
Eryx smiled.
"Ah. Right. About that—I'm actually renaming it."
She raised an eyebrow. Just one.
"Oh?"
"Gemeralds," he said, as if it had always been obvious. "Same product. Different name. Less confusing in the long run."
"…Gemeralds," she repeated, testing the word.
"Yes ma'am."
She considered this for exactly three seconds.
"Very well," she said. "Pricing?"
"Five credits per small bag," Eryx replied smoothly. "Twenty per big bag."
No hesitation. No bargaining.
"I'll take five big bags."
Eryx nodded once. "Alright. Follow me."
The Ghastling perked up immediately and floated down, drifting ahead as if she already knew the way.
Jeanne paused, watching the creature move with quiet fascination.
"…She seems comfortable back here," Jeanne remarked.
"She lives here," Eryx replied simply.
He led them into the back.
The space opened up gradually, wider than expected—deeper, too. The kind of backroom that quietly contradicted the modest storefront.
Jeanne's gaze sharpened as she took it in.
Habitats lined the walls, layered vertically and horizontally, each one humming with contained systems. Foxes shifted in their enclosures, tails flicking. The spiders were mostly still, resting in shadowed corners or clinging to reinforced surfaces.
The Ghastling drifted lazily between sections, clearly familiar with the layout.
"…Impressive," Jeanne said after a moment. "For an independent shop."
Eryx shrugged. "I plan ahead."
Her eyes lingered on a set of containers near one wall.
Red dust.
Fine-grained. Luminous, but not glowing.
She tilted her head slightly.
"…Is that coke?"
Eryx froze for exactly half a second.
Then he burst out laughing.
Actual laughter—sharp, sudden, genuine.
"Hahaha—no. No, definitely not," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "That's Redstone."
"Red… stone?" Jeanne echoed.
"Acts like a circuit when charged with electricity," Eryx explained smoothly, transitioning without a hitch. "Conductive. Reactive. Very useful for environmental regulation."
He gestured around them.
"It's part of how the enclosures function. Along with some devices I call Observers."
Jeanne followed his hand, eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but focus.
"Observers?"
"They detect changes," Eryx said. "Movement. Temperature variance. Mana flow. I calibrate them so the habitats adjust automatically."
He tapped lightly on one enclosure.
"Arctic Foxes get consistent cold and artificial snowfall. The spiders need humidity—too dry and they molt incorrectly."
As if on cue, one of the spiders shifted, a faint mist pulsing from vents along the enclosure wall.
Jeanne nodded slowly.
"I see."
She did see.
And more importantly—she accepted it.
There was no room for doubt to creep in. The systems worked. The beasts were healthy. The logic, while unconventional, was sound.
That was enough.
Eryx retrieved the bags from a reinforced cabinet—thick, mana-sealed packaging marked clearly with the bold G.
Five big bags.
He handed them to her one by one.
Jeanne accepted them, weighing each briefly before slipping them into her own storage bag. The motion was practiced. Controlled.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "This will be… very useful."
"I'm glad," Eryx replied. "If you need more, you know where to find me."
She paused at the threshold, turning back once more.
"And your Ghastling," Jeanne added. "She's… remarkable."
Eryx smiled faintly.
"She's family."
Jeanne inclined her head—not a bow, but close enough to be respectful.
"Good evening, then."
"Good evening, Miss Jeanne."
She left.
The door closed.
The shop fell quiet again.
Eryx exhaled slowly, rolling his neck once.
"…Well," he muttered. "That went well."
The Ghastling drifted over and bumped her head gently against his shoulder, purring.
He locked up, checked the seals one last time, dimmed the lights further.
Then he went to his small room above the shop.
He lay down.
Closed his eyes.
And slept—
—in this world.