The day after the team's introduction, Samael woke with a strange weight in his chest.
Longing.
An almost childish need to hold something.
To squeeze.
To feel warmth.
Back on Earth, Ethan had owned a black cat. Whenever he felt like this, he would pick it up and shower it with affection until the poor creature protested with an indignant meow.
Here… that was almost a mythical luxury.
Animals were rare.
Most had gone extinct during the first years after the Catastrophe.
He could, theoretically, try to consider Elisa as a "pet."
The idea died instantly.
A ten-meter-long serpent, even a loyal one, was still… a ten-meter-long serpent.
Samael trusted her.
But trust did not erase instinct.
And instinct screamed: predator.
"I need something smaller… and less capable of swallowing me whole," he muttered.
The solution was obvious.
The internet.
He spent hours scrolling through listings, underground breeder forums, government-approved auctions.
Until he found it.
A small black kitten.
Tiny.
Yellow eyes.
Price: 4,500 credits.
Samael did the math.
If he bought it, he would have to survive on the cheapest synthetic food until the end of the month.
He stared at the number on the screen.
Sighed.
Even as an Awakened — earning relatively well — his financial management skills were… questionable.
Useless items.
Expensive food.
Idiotic purchases.
"I just need to go pick it up… it's not even far," he told himself.
He paused.
Looked at the communicator.
"Is Liz busy?"
The idea of not going alone was comforting.
He opened the communicator.
Then glanced around.
The apartment was a disaster.
Clothes on the floor.
Dishes piled up.
Dust gathering on every surface.
He vividly remembered the last time Elizabeth had visited.
Her expression.
The scolding.
"You need to clean this place immediately, Samael."
He crossed his arms.
"It's not even that bad…"
Silence.
A cockroach slowly crossed the floor.
Samael stared at the intruder.
It stared back.
Challenge accepted.
He shut off the communicator.
Without calling Elizabeth.
He went to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a bucket of water, a mop, a broom, and a bottle of bleach.
He stopped in the center of the room.
Took a deep breath.
"Alright… time to act."
Another silence.
He frowned.
"Can't do this without music."
He cleaned better with music.
It was a universal rule.
He connected the communicator to the sound system.
Selected one of the songs he used to listen to on Earth.
Turned the volume up.
Too loud.
And began.
He gathered the scattered clothes and tossed them into the washing machine.
Stacked the dishes in the sink.
Swept the floor, raising small clouds of dust.
Then he saw it again.
The cockroach.
Now beneath the couch.
Samael froze.
The cockroach ran.
He leapt onto the couch with an agility far too impressive for someone who regularly fought Nightmare creatures.
He gripped the broom like a spear.
"Lord of Shadows… accept your end!"
The battle was epic.
At least in his head.
It lasted ten minutes.
There were flying slippers.
Dramatic dodges.
Indignant shouts.
To any external observer, it would have been deeply embarrassing.
An Awakened capable of surviving cursed zones… waging war against an insect.
But Samael was having fun.
In the end, the cockroach fell.
Victory achieved.
He stepped down from the couch with questionable dignity.
"One less enemy."
The cleaning continued.
Water mixed with bleach spread across the floor.
The mop slid back and forth.
The couch — which had served as his bed since moving in — was finally arranged properly.
Curiously, he had not slept in the bedroom even once.
Perhaps he didn't feel ready for that.
Perhaps he was avoiding something.
Or maybe he was simply lazy.
While washing dishes, he held the detergent bottle like a microphone.
Sang.
Off-key.
As if standing before thousands of spectators.
For a few minutes, he wasn't a politically disposable Refiner.
Wasn't part of a team with a high mortality rate.
He was just… someone cleaning his own home.
Three hours later, exhausted and slightly sweaty, he hung the clothes out to dry.
That was when he encountered his neighbor.
And received a scolding about the music volume.
Samael apologized with an awkward smile.
Lowered the sound.
Finished what remained.
When he finally stood in the center of the room, breathing deeply, he almost didn't recognize the place.
The floor shone.
The sink was empty.
The air smelled of cleaning products.
"Wow… doesn't even look like the same house."
He slowly turned, observing.
Maybe… keeping it like this was a good idea.
Maybe cleaning from time to time really did help.
He completely ignored the fact that he had spent nearly a third of the time reenacting a war against a cockroach.
He sat down on the couch.
The silence of an organized home felt different.
Less suffocating.
Lighter.
New team.
New mission.
Maybe…
A new life.
He picked up the communicator again.
The black kitten's listing was still open.
The cursor hovered over "purchase."
Samael smiled faintly.
Lonely or not…
Some decisions could still be simple.
The cursor hovered for a few seconds.
Samael took a deep breath.
Confirm purchase.
The notification appeared immediately.
Transaction completed.
4,500 credits vanished from his account as if they had never existed.
He stared at the remaining balance.
Silence.
"I'm definitely eating synthetic trash this month…"
Even so, there was no regret.
Only a quiet acceptance of his own financial disaster.
He opened the communicator and called Elizabeth.
She answered on the third ring.
"What?" she asked, already anticipating trouble.
"I bought a cat, Liz," he said, unable to hide his excitement.
On the other end, silence.
A very specific kind of silence.
"Sam… cats are expensive. And you've already spent quite a bit this month. Please tell me you did the math before buying it."
Her tone was calm.
Mature.
Dangerously calm.
"Of course I did!" he replied, offended.
"Then how much do you have left?"
She didn't believe him.
Not even a little.
"Enough to eat for the whole month," he answered, technically telling the truth.
Pause.
"Eat what?"
There was something in that question.
An invisible trap.
"Doesn't matter," he tried to dodge.
"It does matter. What are you going to eat for the rest of the month, Samael?"
He sighed.
Defeated before the final judgment.
"Synthetic food."
Silence.
Heavier this time.
"You're so irresponsible…" Elizabeth said, but there was no real anger there. Only fatigue.
Perhaps concern.
"Are you coming with me or not?" he asked quickly, diverting the subject.
A brief pause.
"I am."
"Bye!"
He ended the call before the second half of the scolding could arrive.
Cowardly.
But efficient.
Samael finally let himself fall back onto the couch.
His body was tired.
Three hours of cleaning were more exhausting than expected.
He glanced at the time.
17:02.
The hours had slipped through his fingers without notice.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
That was when he smelled it.
A scent.
Subtle.
But growing.
He opened one eye.
Slowly raised his arm.
Sniffed his own shirt.
An awkward silence.
"…Ah."
Three hours of cleaning.
Sweating.
Jumping on furniture.
Waging war against a cockroach.
It was predictable.
"Right. Shower."
He stood up with resignation.
Elizabeth would take a little while to arrive.
Plenty of time.