2: masked

"…this is not honoring the old Tanaka's memory." Kagome stated flatly, her meal untouched on the bed tray. Her eyes burned the old man's face. She never cared to ask for his true name and would insist on calling him by his job title instead. That, was how little she respected him. Twisting the sheet in her fists, Kagome grimaced at the butler's slight bow.

Vincent made himself comfortable in a wingback chair. Though he remained close to the patient's bed, he kept himself in the darkened corner. He was wise to keep out of Kagome's firing range.

Tanaka placed a hand over his chest and smiled, "Missus, it is lovely to—"

"You may get out now." She did not care. Kagome took her first bite of the hot porridge and savored it slowly. It was bland but tolerable at best, forgettable. Chewing the solid bits, she pretended the old man was invisible. Kagome was well-versed in table manners and used a cloth napkin to wipe away any remaining residues on her lips. She felt obliged to do so in front of her observing lord.

The butler and their lord exchanged a look. Vincent replied with a shrug, that he could not be bothered to reprimand the missus. "It is a pleasure to meet you, missus," Clearing his throat, Tanaka repeated, "I am Ta—"

"No," Kagome interrupted and took another spoonful. She had to eat. If she could not recover sooner, Her lord would be disappointed—but this gentleman was making her meal unpleasant, "you're not. Leave, you're ruining my appetite."

With the spoon chattering on her tray, she glared at the old butler. Folding her hands on her lap, Kagome dared him to protest, to stay another minute. There was no expression, no frown. She simply narrowed her eyes.

Sighing, Vincent fought the urge to rub in between his eyes and waved Tanaka away, "Busy yourself and see about repairing the manor."

He took the armrests and heaved off his weight, clenching his teeth at sudden stabs of lightning up his hip. Vincent slid over to Kagome's mattress, ignoring her soft protests, "Shush," Vincent took the silver utensil in his hand and dipped it in the bowl. He floated a spoonful to Kagome's thinning lips while keeping his other hand underneath it. Vincent sighed when he sensed the butler's presence was still present, "you're dismissed." He beckoned to Kagome and encouraged, pleadingly, "Dear girl, you need to eat."

"Yes," Tanaka straightened his posture and bowed, "milord," He stood up and tugged on his jacket. A frown played on his whiskered lips, but neither the lord nor his dear missus paid him any mind. "I'll take care of everything. Please call for me if you require anything else." Pivoting at his feet, the old butler retreated from the room. His aged eyes hooded and there was a slight spark of red.

"I can feed myself," Kagome muttered, but refrained from swiping at Vincent's wrist. She huffed and took the spoon into her mouth.

Vincent shook his head, his lips upturning in a slight smile. Dipping the silverware in her porridge, he reminded her kindly, "You should be resting," after blowing air to cool the food, he returned the spoon to her lips, "don't be making this difficult, sweet girl."

She did not fight her lord's insistence and sighed, "Yes, milord." Taking another spoonful, Kagome chewed and furrowed her brows at the appearance Vincent made. She could see her lord much better now that they were in the daylight.

A frown broke her lips. She hated Vincent's appearance. She hated it.

Wearing similar hospital garb like hers, he looked rather peculiar. It was wrong, seeing him wearing anything short of an impressive price tag. Yet, Vincent wore a plain flannel shirt and trousers. Her lord was so sensitive about his neck being exposed that he preferred keeping it covered—but she could see every muscle and vein in his naked neck.

Vincent's short hair was in disarray, frazzled from lack of proper care. Dark bags ringed under his almond eyes, indicating that he had slept very little since. His usual earrings were absent, leaving tiny holes in his lobes. The few familiar things that he still wore, were his rings. His two family heirlooms, one was a deep blue stone embedded in ornate silver on his ring finger, the other the gold signet ring bearing the Phantomhive crest on his pinkie, and lastly, the plain silver wedding ring. It was thin, disappearing under the dominating heirloom, but Kagome did not miss it.

"Dear girl?" Vincent lowered his hand when Kagome ran her fingers across his jutting knuckles and raked the cloth plaster on the back of his hand. "Ah," he murmured when she lingered over his rings. He placed the spoon back into the soup and allowed Kagome to stroke his fingers.

She seldom ever touched him unprompted. His songbird was a cautious one, preferring to seek permission to touch others. Though, she didn't mind if one touched her.

His sons would run up to Kagome and hug her legs, without asking. With softened eyes, she would return some affection. Despite that, Kagome was frightened of overstepping their boundaries, and, much like a pet dog, she desired to please those within his family above all else. And, only his family—now he was the only one left she could share a semblance of affection with.

He shook his head. She should be fed. Unable to resist, Vincent allowed her to have his hand. It was a treat, to see Kagome giving him that level of affection.

She circled his rings. Grasping his hand, Kagome lowered her eyes and murmured, "It is…odd, to see you without your gloves."

"Ah," Vincent breezed the same hand to cup her bandaged cheek, grimacing at how large those dressings were, "is it that strange? I had to keep them bandaged," He chuckled, stroking her temple with his thumb.

Kagome nodded, leaning on his hand, and raked her brittle nails on the coarse wrap, "Yes. You rarely go without wearing a pair." He was a peculiar man with specific tastes.

"Hm, is that so." Vincent brushed aside her bangs and pursed his lips at the state of her crudely chopped hair, "We should get you a hairdresser—" he stiffened, his lips parting in a hushed gape.

Her heart thudded and hammered on her ribs at his horrified expression, "Milord?" Kagome worried when Vincent dropped his hand from her cheek.

"Y-your," he shivered. Both hands rushed out and cupped her face, one prodding over her right eye, "e-eye, it, it is…" Vincent struggled to find words.

"Oh." Kagome murmured and closed her eyes in shame, "Is it that bad?"

Vincent's jaws were clenched. For the thousandth time, he blamed himself for his songbird's feeble state, "W-why didn't you tell me? Are you blind in—?"

"I," she inhaled slowly, gathering the courage to meet his sad gaze again, "don't wish to worry you any more than is needed, milord." Kagome admitted. She prodded below her eye, her brows knitted, "Is it bad?"

Vincent jerked his head in a positive confirmation, biting his tongue, "Y-yes, it's…lighter. It is still a lovely color, but it is not the color I know." A lovely shade of smoky blue, but it hardly matched her other eye. It was once a stunning pair of dark steely azure.

She took in a deep breath, sliding the hand down her face, "It is," Kagome's eyes closed, "alright, I'll make do."

"How bad is it?" Vincent dropped his hands on her shoulders. Guilt gnawed at the depths of his belly.

Kagome shrugged, "I can make out shapes and colors. Perhaps it'll heal." She did not sound as sure as her words.

"…forgive—"

"Say that again," she took the spoon from her cooling soup and held it threateningly to Vincent, "and I will disembowel you with this spoon."

Vincent straightened and crossed his hands on his lap, "Yes. Of course." Kagome can be quite frightening even with harmless-looking objects. He had seen what she had done with several unlucky souls with a mere blunt stick.

"I should eat." Kagome mumbled and twisted her nose at the look of her porridge. Scooping out a bite, she chewed the solid and swallowed it.

Her arms creaked and groaned in protests. She did not change her expression, but it was as if Vincent knew her body better than herself. He plucked the silver from her grasp, "Let me feed it to you, dear girl."

That time, Kagome did not object.

She couldn't leave the hospital for a week until the doctors gave her the all-clear. For those seven days, Vincent forced her on bedrest and placed her on iron-rich meals to help her recover from her blood loss. He never left her side, and despite his lame leg, he dedicated an allotment of his time to attend to her needs. It was not to say he was idling, he kept himself busy. Multiple phone calls and paperwork for days.

Yet, excepting trustworthy doctors, appointed nurses, and the so-called butler, neither received any visitors. Kagome absently wondered how Lady Midford had not caught wind of her brother being alive yet and stormed into their shared room. She had an ear for those things, but Kagome supposed Vincent had his ways.

It was a sure bet that Mr. Diedrich Hans already knew, though, that Vincent and she survived. He was her lord's, in his words, domestic German dog. Whatever Vincent says, Mr. Hans follows it through. Neither would ever admit that they considered each other their closest friends though.

Stubborn old men, those two.

Unfortunately, not even Diedrich was able to smuggle them out of the Royal hospital without the news of a surviving Phantomhive reaching the general public. A hassle neither was ready to face yet. There were still too many unknown factors for Vincent to feel comfortable staying anywhere outside the well-secured hospital.

The butler made sure to give a strict list of who may visit and restricted specific doctors and nurses of questionable backgrounds from accessing the entire floor. He also ensured that no one would dare open their mouths and spread information. Whatever methods he used, they worked, and none dared to meet her lord's guarded eyes.

At least he was useful for something, Kagome thought dryly. Still, what was that imposter doing? Had he been standing outside their door this entire time?

She had not heard a peep regarding the matter of her lord's burnt-down home either. Vincent hardly seemed to be too invested to care, preoccupied with unfinished business that had accumulated over the month they had been gone. A month.

It did not feel like a month to Kagome.

"You should—" her lord tried, reaching out for her hip, but Kagome smacked it away. He grumbled, soothing his slapped hand and straightening his leather glove, "You should rest—"

Kagome leaned on her clutches and answered him bluntly, "I'll rest when I'm dead. Where's the carriage?" She cursed the fact that one of her feet was so badly mangled that the doctor said she would have to rely on her clutches for another month to recover. It was a miracle she hadn't had an infection from her long barefooted trek, let alone been able to walk.

Vincent still had not forgiven her foolishness yet.

To suffer wearing those ridiculous casts was probably a fitting punishment. But, she refused to lose the last shreds of her dignity by sitting on her lord's lap while he was in his wheelchair. In broad views of others. Those lucky enough to see them sneaking past, that is.

It was fortunate that her dress hid the ugly evidence of her failure. What was unfortunate was that she appeared a little...unpolished, having been barred from wearing a corset for an inexcusably long period of time. Long rows of stitches ran down one side of her abdomen, still itchy beneath their dressings and her loose bodice. An unpleasant sensation.

If she had been anyone else, it might have been throbbing and have her bowling over to the floor. Kagome was adamant about not relying on her lord any longer than was absolutely necessary. Hell, it took over an hour to get herself to look somewhat presentable, Kagome's ruined hair being one of the main difficulties she faced.

…she wore a bonnet instead.

Grimacing at his dear girl's poor choice of words, he rubbed his temple, "This girl," inhaling deeply, Vincent reeled in his annoyance and draped his hand under his chin, "Tanaka, lead the way. The sooner we leave, the better."

"Yes, milord, would you like to return to the manor?" The butler smiled. He grasped the handlebar behind the lord's wheelchair and pushed. He was mindful of Kagome's hobbles and kept a steady pace.

Vincent quirked a brow, "I beg your pardon? The place is nothing but charcoal and debris." His dear songbird made a slightly exasperated groan. If he hadn't been aware of her minute quirks, Vincent might have passed it off as part of the background chatters.

"Perhaps you should see for yourself, milord." Vincent did not like the butler's tone. It was mischievous, proud—he mistrusted it immediately.

Vincent clenched his tongue and nodded, "Very well. We'll check on the progress." Tugging on his sleeve, he readjusted his cufflinks and pretended he was not miffed.

Kagome gave the butler a sidelong glance but said nothing. She knew exactly what the butler did, but it was better for her lord to discover on his own. She hobbled behind the men, biting back a sigh.

"…Tanaka," Vincent wanted to throttle the butler. Standing before the three, the manor was back in its former glory—and better. It was more…pristine than he remembered it ever being.

The stones were never that white.

There were no traces of fire, not a single black particle of ash to be seen. The lawns on both sides of his property were as green as in the springtime…even though it was the middle of a cold February. He swore there used to be mud that split over the then-elegant pathway, his land trampled with intruders and interlopers of petty thieves and overly ambitious detectives.

There was no evidence of those ruinations he could see.

Everything had been redone.

It is physically impossible to rebuild his manor in a single week. Vincent drew a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and asked, "What...did you do?"

The old man blinked, "Is it not acceptable?"

Kagome shook her head and pressed on forward. She wanted out from the cold weather, though she could scantly feel the winter. No, she hated her clutches and wanted to sit down somewhere comfortable.

To not think any more unnecessary thoughts. Or, that she would need to brace herself for inevitable guests. How exhausting.

"…" She stopped before the spanning stairs. Tapping one of her miserable wooden aids on the first plane, she stared at it for a moment. Without a word, Kagome abruptly changed her mind and pivoted in another direction.

Vincent threw her a gesture and did not afford Tanaka time for him to respond to his query, "Oh, for heaven's sake, where are you going?" What was this girl doing?

Kagome paused long enough to answer, "Through the servant door. I am not going to humiliate myself by climbing a difficult task." She resumed her hobble.

"I was intending to carry you," Tanaka frowned. He was going to do the same with his master as well.

"No. I want nothing to do with you." Kagome's reply was immediate.

Vincent was silent for a moment, staring at the long flight of stairs. Realization dawned, "…Did you mean to carry me up those stairs?"

"Was I not meant to?" The butler blinked, perplexed by their reactions, "It is to my understanding that the front door is preferable for the nobles and their guests."

"Not when we're crippled." The lord tasted an urge to throttle the butler again, "Follow the dear girl." Vincent palmed his face and muttered, "Good grief."

He slowly started to understand why Kagome deemed his butler as a (potential) source of constant frustration. The old man exuded a subtle air of arrogance not too unlike his own, but he perfumed it in the way where Vincent had to wrestle with his instincts to use him as a target. The lord also did not like the way he eyed his dear girl either.

Tanaka obeyed with a cocked head. "Yes, milord," Turning the wheelchair on the branching path to one side of the building, the butler presented another issue, "but are your and the miss' rooms not upstairs?"

"I—" Vincent had to retain his temper and reminded himself of many lessons of patience he learned from rearing his sons, "please get us inside, it's cold."

"Yes, milord." the butler said nothing else.

Kagome hated everything the demon touched. Is nothing sacred? It was…too perfect. The wooden floor was oiled and waxed so thoroughly that she could see her reflection. It was stained a beautiful shade of warm color—it was never this color. She recalled quite vividly that the wood panels were well-worn, chipped, and dulled from frequent foot traffic. There was no real need to keep the hallway overly polished.

Not when the noble family and their guests rarely came through this pathway. It was one of two servants' quarters, but it was so out of the way from the kitchen that there were no other purposes sans perhaps some storage closets. A mere space to house their live-in servants.

Many tasteful decorations were scattered throughout the hallway, some were small paintings and others single-stemmed vividly red roses sitting in their skinny vases on the small tables. The perfumes from those flowers wafted to her nose, but it was rather…off-putting for reasons she could not quite explain. It felt entirely…artificial.

It was as if no human had ever breached this place.

As she lumbered through the hallway, she debated on whether or not if she wanted to proceed to the entrance room. Kagome halted and gripped her clutches. She did not quite want to, there were too many happy memories of dancing and laughter there.

Her heart thudded and wrenched, shuddering in a dark veil of her own hatred, but she felt nothing else. Her eyes remained dry and her throat did not tighten. Her breathing was the same, slow and steady. She was fine.

Not deaf to the footsteps ringing behind her, Kagome hummed, "Are we meant to stay somewhere, milord?" Waiting for her lord's reply, she thumbed over the silky grain of her aids.

"In one of the reading rooms." Vincent glided by her side and he glanced upward. With a frown lingering on his lips, he offered, "You do not need to see anyone if you don't wish to."

"And to face more of Lady Midford's scorn?" Kagome leaned on one of her aids and bent her better knee. It creaked and groaned, the bones inside felt unoiled and brittle. No hint of pain or discomfort, though she rarely felt such sensations these days, "I would rather stay by my lord's side, if it is alright with you."

Vincent gave her a weak smile, fighting the urge to seize her hand and hold it, "If that's what you wish, my dear girl." He cocked his head to the butler, "Take us to the western reading room."

"Yes, milord." Tanaka resumed his even strides, the dress shoes thunderous in the otherwise silent hallway. As he strode past Kagome, he raised his bushy lips at the little furrow in her expression.

She kept a tight eye on his back and waited until they were a few feet ahead to restart her pathetic walking. Pushing her clutches onward, Kagome hated those damned things. They dug up her armpits and chafed…well, that was what she was trying to convince herself to do.

It was supposed to be normal to hate something, wasn't it? To loathe things that impend your ability to perform your tasks. But, all Kagome felt, were slight annoyances and apprehension at seeing familiar faces.

The great entrance room loomed beyond that unlabeled door at the very end of this corridor. Every second she tried to buy herself from entering that room, she was prolonging the inevitable. Had the demon ruined this one too?

She needed to rip off the bandage. To let go of the past. Kagome knew better than to dwell on things she was not meant to change. It burned out her heart so long ago.

It withered and cracked, shattering in pieces. Those who gave her their home and love, had patched it together with her—only for it to fall apart again. There was nothing but silvers left, with no way to put it back together. These tiny remains, belong to her lord now. Only her lord.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, Kagome gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her lord. As the brilliant light spilled in, her eyes twitched. Her body locked them shut on an impulse, before she could blink her mismatched eyes open.

…she hated this one too.

From the checkerboard floor to the red ceiling, everything glistened and glimmered. Sparkling like diamonds, the ornaments weaved throughout the curved railings and scattered throughout the large room. Everything was blindingly bright.

Before, it was Lady Rachel Phantomhive who arranged the decorations and set the stage. Everything she did, had a delicate feminine touch. It was simple but elegant.

Whatever the demon did, it was loud and bold, but not necessarily overly arrogant. The predominant color palette was gold, red, and white, with black as an accent. Kagome had to acknowledge that he did do a decent enough job of altering the atmosphere, but…

…the happy memories. They were wiped away. Obliterated.

She hated every inch of this room.

She did not say that. though. Paying the new changes no more mind, she hobbled on forward to the other side. Kagome was hellbent to get out from lingering in this room any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Vincent scanned around the new surroundings, "Hm, impressive." He did not sound overly joyous, but one would be hard-pressed to make a sad man happy so soon after losing those he held very close to his heart.

"I'm glad you think so, milord." The butler said this in glee. He went on to explain, "I did what I could to replicate its former self, but I'm afraid I do not have a perfect frame of references."

Bullshit, Kagome thought. She rarely used that sort of language, it was excessively improper, but even she had her exceptions. He was claiming the place as his own, much like a dog would mark its' territory. Repulsive and predictable.

The bastard knew what everything used to look like down to the tee. Again, she said nothing to contradict his claims. Instead, she pretended to wonder aloud, "Do we have any good logical explanation for how the manor was restored and fully furnished within a single week?" Kagome had no doubt there would be witnesses, to corroborate that there was nothing but black residues of a terrible tragedy seven days previously.

"I—" Tanaka then admitted, "did not think that far."

"Really," Kagome dryly started, turning to half-face the butler, "anyone with quarter a mind and knew the old man, would've begun asking questions about why you are behaving differently or how you were unharmed when milord was burned." A little disapproving pulled on her lips in response to the imposter's faux innocent blinks, "I understand that you are an illogical being, but here, we have to follow the laws of logicality. I am starting to wonder if you are trying to oust milord for harboring a demon's contract."

After a brief pause, Vincent coughed into his hand, "No one questioned thus far—"

"They will now, milord." Kagome shook her head and scuffled to the door, "It would play more in your favor if the demon hadn't borrowed Sir Tanaka's image. It would be easier to accept a young protégé who knew everything and nothing," she distinctly heard Vincent's groan at her sensible logic," than a greying man tired from old age and doing little more than drinking tea and playing chess."

She had no intention of assisting her lord and butler in their current predicament. Kagome scantly feels like thinking too hard today. She was also not the one who told the butler to fix the manor.

Grabbing the glass knob, Kagome helped herself into the new hallway. Her knees were creaking, and she knew she needed to sit down. Kagome would need all the rest she could get.

"That's your second cigar today, milord," Kagome murmured, though she was unbothered by the sweet stench of her lord's preferred Cuban tobacco, "and it hadn't been an hour." She added, reclining back in her plush seat and was sipping her cooled tea.

The thought of drinking the insipid tea made by the devil…it was not a pleasant feeling. She offered to brew teas, knowing her lord's preferences well. Unfortunately, Vincent promptly rejected the gesture and ordered her to sit down to rest her feet. Kagome tried not to twist her mouth, her drink could hardly be considered a proper tea. Brown water, more like.

There was no room for criticism now. So many things to do, so little time. The butler's poor tea-brewing skills can be remedied at a later time.

The fact that the imposter left the room was a blessing in itself. Kagome didn't have to suffer his vile presence for too long. He claimed it was his responsibility to welcome the Midford or whatnot. She was never interested in hearing anything more he had to say.

She can observe her lord in peace. He looked so much more elegant outside that wheelchair, with his feet on the floor, and he could comfortably posture himself. Kagome could imagine the relief, not being reminded of their current states. Her crutches were left at the back of her chair, and her armpits no longer rubbed so strangely.

For the wheelchair, he had the butler relocate it outside the hallway. Vincent did not explain why he wanted it out of the room, but Kagome can assume. The answer came easily.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Vincent paused, leaning back in his seat, "Ah," he took one last drag from his cigar with a deep inhale, "so it is." He crushed the burning stick against the glass ashtray from the end table. Waving away the swirling smoke from Kagome's general direction, he apologized, "Even with your permission, it's not a proper manner—"

"I'm not complaining," Kagome shook her head, "I'm cautioning you to exercise such practices in moderation." Thumbing over the china saucer, she reminded, "Lady Midford is staunchly against smoking. One whiff of it and she may go on tirades for hours."

Vincent shot her an amused look, chuckling at a sudden memory his dear girl triggered, "That is true. Frannie can be such a strict bore sometimes." A trailing sigh ruined that small smile. He tilted his head up above the door and laid his eyes on the intricate patterns on his wall, "…tsk."

Even if he was dressed to the nine, Vincent knew he looked like a right mess. Even his best suit, could not hide the grief and weariness in his eyes. Despite the butler's offer to hide the sleepless bags under his eyes, Vincent knew to refuse. It would have felt like he was lying about ever loving his wife and sons.

Francis was his beloved sister. No matter how often Vincent would grit his teeth and force a smile whenever Francis berated him about his lack of properness and other perceived flaws, he adored her. Regardless of their disagreements and arguments, he knew Francis would give her life for him without hesitation.

She is his sister.

If Vincent could not trust her to embrace him in his current emotional state, he would not trust anyone. It would not be good for him to invest all of his emotional burdens on his songbird. The poor thing was already weighted down by her anxieties and guilt—she already lost everything in her previous life, and she lost it all again with him. Vincent was not so naive.

He will start to pretend again after seeing the Midford.

Crossing his ankles, he folded his hands on his stomach and startled his bad hip. Vincent closed his eyes and blew air through his nose, ignoring the pain. God, he was so, so tired. He slept so much, and yet he felt as if he never slept at all.

He threw himself into his work, enlisting favors and reclaiming whatever assets that had been seized upon his alleged death. There was so much paperwork to do, and Vincent still needed to rescind his death certificate. Proving himself to be alive, is going to be a painful procedure.

Vincent felt as if time decelerated in the midst of it all. Everything moved so slowly, at a glacial pace, his movements languid, and hours were twice as slow. The past week stretched so long. He recalled getting frequent headaches and that staying near the idling Kagome's helped to alleviate them some.

She kept some of his sanity intact.

"Dear girl, let me know when they arrive." Vincent then rested an arm over his eyes, furrowing at his sensitivity to the light. Perhaps a brief nap was in order.

Kagome didn't ask questions and nodded, "Yes, milord. They are close, but haven't entered your property yet." Her voice was still so weak, low. Croaky.

It did not fit his songbird a single bit.

"Let me know. I," he breathed again—he had sighed so many times today, "need a little rest."

"Then rest. I'll wake you the moment they set a foot inside your home." Kagome chattered her empty cup on its saucer and tucked it away, keen on erasing the bland taste from her memory. There was little else for her to do while they waited for their guests. Perhaps she could close her eyes for just a moment too.

Vincent absently wondered if he still reeked of his cigar, "Thank you, dear girl."

His eyes still burned, feeling dry from weeping tears the week before. Vincent had none left to spare. Only the slow-simmering rage in his breast, pulsating red whenever he caught a glance of Kagome's marred face.

She survived, but at what cost?

If only he told her to run.

Vincent had too many enemies, some generational, that he would have to comb and weed them all out to find the true perpetrators. Once he finds the one responsible…his mind turned dark with gruesome ideas.

His breath stopped, his lungs withering at the realization. No more thoughts. It would do him no good to dwell on things he could not change. Rushing in blind with rage would accomplish nothing but his death.

Or, Kagome's.

No more thoughts.

a/n: yet another slow chapter, whoops, but it was meant to paint a better picture of what kind of relationships our characters had with one other. "Tanaka" can get decked though.

As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review~

Edited as of Oct 12 2021 using quillbot and basic grammarly! Iunno if these apps improved the reading any so lmk your thoughts!