The footsteps on the stairs grew louder with every movement. They didn't have the usual bounce or creak that accompanied Chris.
The shadow reflected across the floor was massive.
Chris stepped into the light. His usual grin, the one that made him look like a golden retriever in human form, was gone. His face was like a stone.
He looked less like a playful tank and more like the unmovable object his class was supposed to be.
Chris didn't ask what happened because he had heard enough from the stairs to understand the essence of the silence in the room.
"Julien," Chris said, his voice low. "I checked the messages at the Guild on my way back."
Julien stood up, wiping his face, trying to compose himself. "And?"
"Someone took the notice," Chris said. "The request we put up for a 'Specialist.' The Association informed me. They said the applicant is coming to the shop today for an interview. Right at this moment, actually."
Julien blinked, the other side of his brain slowly kicking back into gear. "Today? I thought that request would sit there for weeks. Who would want to join an E-Rank party with no reputation?"
"I don't know," Chris shook his head. "But we need to be ready. You should go up and clear the counter. Make the place look... more professional. Or at least like we aren't squatting in a basement."
Julien nodded. He glanced at Alice one last time. She was still sitting in the corner, her knees drawn up, looking small and weak.
"I'll go," Julien said softly. "You two... take a minute."
Julien grabbed his coat and hurried up the stairs, his mind already filled with calculations and interview questions, grateful for the distraction.
The basement went quiet again.
Chris didn't move for a long moment. Then, he walked over to where Alice was sitting and sat down on the cold concrete floor beside her. He crossed his legs, placing the grocery bag between them.
Alice watched him from the corner of her single eye and started picking at the corner of her spectral dress.
"Well?" Alice broke the silence, her voice trying for sarcasm but landing somewhere near fragile. She let out an unwilling laugh. "Are you pitying me now, Big Guy? A Viking feeling bad for a ghost? This is a very weird situation, even for us."
She waited for him to crack a joke and offer a generic platitude like 'I'm sorry' or 'It's not your fault.'
But Chris didn't laugh. His eyes stared straight ahead at the wooden training dummy, his expression indifferent.
"You know," Chris began, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "I never got to experience what a family feels like."
Alice stopped picking at her dress.
"Julien and I," Chris continued, "we were from an orphanage, State-run by the politicians. We were raised together in a room with twenty other kids and didn't have parents to cook us stew, poisoned or otherwise. We didn't have a brother to run away."
He rested his elbows on his knees.
"We are all we ever had. And for a long time, we were all we ever needed. We fought for food and blankets. When Julien Awakened that weird merchant class, I was the first one to cheer, because it meant we could finally eat something other than old rice."
Chris paused, his eyes softening as he looked at a memory only he could see.
"But there were moments," he admitted. "Birthdays and holidays. Times when you see other people in the park, holding hands, laughing, sharing a cake. And you wish... You just wish you had someone else to celebrate with. Someone to worry about you and leave a light on for."
He turned his head slowly, finally meeting Alice's gaze.
"You had that love, Alice. And it was twisted into something horrible at the end. But the love you have for your brother and the refusal to give up? That's not weakness."
Alice froze.
"You do not need my pity," Chris said firmly. "And you are not weak either. A weak person would have passed on and let the darkness take them. But you fought death itself because you loved someone that much."
He reached into the bag beside him.
"I went to the market for protein," Chris said, pulling out a white container wrapped in plastic. "But the butcher had a fresh shipment."
He handed her the container, its temperature still warm.
Alice took it with trembling hands.
Inside was a rack of ribs that was heavily seasoned, filled with sauce, and extremely hot.
"I'm sure," Chris said softly, "that wherever Aiden is... his worry is the same as yours. He's probably out there right now, looking at the moon, wondering if his big sister is okay. He's probably scared, too."
Alice stared at the ribs. For the first time since she had died, she didn't feel the need to hide.
She reached up and adjusted her bonnet, pulling the fabric back.
Her other eye, the one usually hidden in shadow, was revealed. It wasn't scarred or monstrous but just a normal, human eye, wide and brightened with unshed tears.
"You are not alone anymore," Chris whispered.
Alice sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She held the ribs close to her chest, feeling the warmth flow into her cold spirit. A genuine smile, one that reached both of her eyes, broke across her face.
"You..." Alice mumbled, looking down. "You are pretty considerate for a meathead."
Chris scratched the back of his neck, his ears turning a bright shade of pink.
"I am," Chris replied, his voice dropping in volume, becoming unusually gentle. "For you."
Alice froze.
The air in the basement seemed to shift. It changed into something softer that made the ghost girl's pale cheeks flush with a colour she shouldn't have been able to produce.
Chris looked away, coughing into his fist, his face turning as red as the sauce on the ribs.
They sat there, neither willing to break the tension, bathed in the awkward, sweet silence of a moment that felt suspiciously like a spark.
"CHRIS!"
Julien's voice shouted from the top of the stairs, shattering the atmosphere instantly.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"