Chapter 4

Good things should happen to good people… Yeah, you can quote me on that.

-Quote attributed to Percy Jackson

Ingvild felt warm.

A weight settled over the top of her body. It wasn't a heavy weight; there was just enough pressure on her arms, chest, and legs to let her know that she was being covered by something solid and soft.

It was nice.

Warm. So warm.

She didn't want to let it go. Under the weight and warmth, she felt safe. So safe.

Then came another weight, one much less pleasant than the first. Even under the lingering haze of sleep, her nose picked up on the dusting of salt and algae that suddenly appeared. And with that, her mind threw open the curtain of sleep in a frenzy.

I know this smell, she realized. It was the same thing that had woken her up two weeks ago after being asleep for almost one hundred years.

It was the scent of the ocean.

Her eyes opened, and she found herself in a familiar position.

Two weeks ago, the same thing had happened. After waking up, she'd been confused and in an unfamiliar place.

This time, though, she wasn't resting on a massive four-poster bed with opulent 18th-century furnishings around her.

In fact, the room she now found herself in was much less decorated. The bed was not as large as the one from two weeks ago. Aesthetically, everything around her was simplistic and cold. Very much unlike her room in the Underworld.

One thing did stay the same between her experiences waking in strange places. Namely, when she'd woken up two weeks ago, someone had been by her side as soon as her eyes opened.

This time was no different.

A boy sat on a wheeled chair across from where she lay, his back to a nearly naked desk made of metal and wood. He was looking at her, sea-green eyes carefully trained on her face.

That's… him.

Ingvild recognized the boy. She remembered those same eyes from when they were gazing down at her, both of them beneath a ring of twisting flames while she bled at the base of a lighthouse.

This was the same boy who had helped her.

Percy. That was his name.

As she continued to observe him, she noticed how… sad he looked. Despite that, he was very handsome, she thought, even when he brooded. His dark hair looked like it had been tousled by the wind.

She puzzled when they both kept their silence.

It slowly dawned on her that, even though he was looking in her direction, he wasn't seeing her. He was looking through her. His eyes might have been on her, but his mind was somewhere else. One of his hands idly fiddled with a bead-filled necklace resting above his collarbone.

His fingers looked lithe and delicate, perfect for a pianist.

Ingvild felt awkward. Her savior sat only ten feet away, melancholic and lost in thought. She assumed that because he was in the room with her, it was his bed she was laying on.

Unfortunately, she couldn't recall what happened after he'd helped her last night.

In fact, she wasn't even sure if it had been last night that they'd met. The disease she suffered from meant sleeping brought the inherent risk of becoming comatose again. For all she knew, it could have been days since he saved her life.

She prayed that wasn't the case.

Not to God, of course. She couldn't pray to God anymore without suffering a sharp migraine.

This wasn't good, Ingvild thought. Her savior sat a scant meter away, apparently disheartened, and all she could do was stare at him while occupying his bed like a useless cadaver.

Could she tell a joke to lighten the mood? Better yet, should she?

The more she thought about it, the more Ingvild doubted she could make him laugh, actually. He seemed like a serious person.

Still, she wanted to do something. Now that she was aware of Percy being in the room with her, Ingvild had started feeling… odd. A warmth spread throughout her stomach as she imagined his own thoughts regarding her.

He must have thought she was rude and inconsiderate. He'd gone through the trouble of helping her, and she hadn't done so much as verbally thank him.

Her parents would have been horribly disappointed. She could practically hear her mother lamenting that Ingvild had—certainly—not been raised by a tribe of uncultured, uncouth, churlish persons. The words "please," for when she asked something of someone, and "thank you," for when she received something from someone, had been drilled into her since she'd first started talking.

Even now, she couldn't do anything right. She really was useless, wasn't she? Pathetic and useless.

Ingvild shifted under the duvet, moving so that she could lean against the headboard. When she did, Percy's eyes finally focused on her, and his face became… not sad. She wouldn't say he looked happy, but at least he didn't look sad anymore.

"Mornin'," he greeted, giving her a quick two-finger salute.

His eyes were actually gorgeous, Ingvild decided.

"Good morning." Her throat stung fiercely, reminding her of the times she'd caught ill in the past. Phlegm made her voice sound wet and cracked. She shivered at the feeling.

Percy nodded at her. "How are you?"

She touched her throat. "F-Fine."

He raised an eyebrow. His eyes followed her hand. "You don't sound fine."

Ingvild didn't want to show the pain. But as she took a calming breath, the sensation of claws digging into her throat made her wince. Even breathing was too much for her to handle.

"You're looking kinda pale," Percy continued, frowning.

"Just… a little thirsty…" Every word had to tear its way out from her mouth. Her tongue felt like it was made of cotton.

It was too painful. She couldn't pretend otherwise. It hurt too much.

"No kidding? Good thing I thought ahead." He motioned to the nightstand at her bedside. A glass of water with ice waited there. "Take your time."

Ingvild sat up and drank. She drained the glass within a minute.

"Thank you," she said.

Defeat plunged a dagger into her stomach. She was making him worry about her. She was burdening him.

"Sure thing." Percy went to her side. He sat down at the foot of the bed and smiled a small smile. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Much better."

Though, not really.

"Good. Would you be all right talking with me for a bit?" Percy put his hands on his knees. His posture was strong. Hale. Confident.

She straightened her spine to copy his poise. When she sat straight, a sharp ache pierced her shoulder, traveling the length of her arm so that even her fingertips buzzed.

"Hey, you okay?"

Ingvild shivered when she felt Percy's hand gently fall onto her shoulder. Even though it wasn't the one that had been injured, she still suppressed a wince. The weight of his hand felt like she'd just been handed the sky and told to hold it.

Her blood was boiling. More than that, she was being pulled toward Percy. Ingvild felt her veins contract and the very water inside of her quiver. It hurt. Not much, but it hurt.

This… couldn't be normal.

Her heart pounded.

"Uh, Ingvild?"

His voice made her snap back to reality. She blinked, shivering as a bolt of blue stabbed her through the heart. "Um… I'm fine… fine…"

"You worried me there," he said, pulling his hand away and unknowingly lifting the burden from her body. "Are you hurting?"

"Just a little." Ingvild tried to focus more on the present. Ever since she'd woken up two weeks ago, her mind had been clouded. It was as if, even though she was awake, there persisted the remnants of a dream—of sleep and of deep tranquility.

Apparently, Percy was only going to clutter her mind even further.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy gave her a look that complimented his skeptical question. He reached for the glass on the nightstand. "Want more water?"

"No, thank you," she said. The water she'd drank earlier hadn't yet settled in her stomach. In fact, it almost came back up when Percy had touched her. "What… What did you want to talk about?"

Percy stopped reaching for the glass. He sat back down, gently, so as to not disturb the bed too much. "Well, when we found you the other day, you weren't looking so good. How'd you end up in that kind of situation? If you don't mind me asking."

Memories of blood and pain sparked a shudder in her body. "We were attacked. They called me… Leviathan… Half-breed filth…"

"The devils called you that?" he asked.

She nodded. "The devils who attacked us."

Percy brought his hand up to his mouth. She flinched, afraid that he would touch her again and convey his immense presence through that contact.

Thankfully, he didn't make any move toward her body. He asked, "Were you with someone else? We didn't find anybody on the island with you, though we didn't really look."

She shook her head slowly. "No. They sent me through a… a magical portal… so that I could escape from the… the devils attacking us."

"Your family sent you?"

Ingvild looked away from Percy. Her heart and throat clenched at the same time. "I don't have a family anymore."

Percy frowned. "What happened?"

She wrinkled her nose to keep the tears at bay. "I… I was asleep for almost a hundred years. My parents died a long time ago. They grew old. I woke up two weeks ago… and that's what they told me."

"Ah, so that's it. Hmm. You keep mentioning they…?"

"The people who watched over me," she answered. "They're devils. I'm a devil. I didn't even know devils existed. It's still a little hard to believe."

Percy hummed. "So you were asleep for a hundred years? That sounds serious."

She nodded, still staring at the duvet as it bunched up in her fists. "They say it's an illness only devils can catch. A sleeping illness. One night, a hundred years ago, I'd fallen asleep in my home, my parents had wished me a good rest… and when I woke up… I wasn't even on Earth anymore."

"Were you in the Underworld?"

"Yes. When my parents failed to wake me… they turned to the occult. The devil they contacted took me to an old manor house owned by the first Leviathan."

"Huh. How did they find out you were related to the original Leviathan?"

"I don't know." Ingvild had never even thought to ask.

"Uh-huh. Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been hard to deal with," he said, dropping his head with slow nods. "Coming to terms with stuff like that… Not many people understand what it's like."

"Do you understand?" She tore her gaze away from the duvet and looked at Percy.

"I've never been in your exact position. Still, I think I know how you feel."

She didn't know why, but his words only made her angry. A knot had formed in her throat. Thankfully, she managed to keep from saying something rude to Percy.

Only just.

"Anyway, do you know who attacked you?" Percy asked.

She shook her head. "Ulestar said they were from the Old Satan Faction, I think."

"Old Satan Faction, huh? At least we have an idea of what we're up against." Percy idly tapped a finger against his knee. "Do you have somewhere else you can go? A safehouse or something?"

"Not that I know of."

"I see. What about Ulestar? Is he a friend of yours?"

"He's one of the first devils I met when I woke up. I don't know if he survived the attack." Ingvild wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "He opened a… a magic portal for me. He stayed in the Underworld to help the others."

"Do you have some way to get into contact with him? Or maybe with any of the other devils who want to keep you safe?"

"No." Ingvild wished she could have said otherwise. The truth was a hard rock to swallow. She was practically alone now.

Percy rolled his head around a few times, as if doing so would help him think. "All right. Can you tell me what Ulestar looks like?"

"Um… he's tall. He has red hair and red eyes."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, that works. Thanks," he said absently.

She looked at him curiously. "Why do you want to know? Will you be able to recognize him?"

"With those features?" Percy twisted his mouth. "Yeah, anyone would see him coming from a mile away. But I was actually asking because… well…" He frowned, eyes narrowing as he glanced out the window above the nightstand. "The night we met, two devils came looking for you. I had to turn them away. It might have gotten a little violent. Neither of them had red hair. They were probably Old Satan goons."

Ingvild swallowed through the tightness in her throat. "Were you hurt? I'm sorry; I just met you and—and you've already been put into danger because of me."

All she did was burden other people.

The thought made her hands clench. Her fingers felt like they would shatter from the strain.

Her heart pounded.

Percy raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm fine. I've fought giraffes tougher than those guys, so you've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Still, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have been put into danger."

"Don't worry," he said smoothly. "You needed help, so I helped. Not a problem."

She didn't understand. "But… why?"

He stood up and rubbed his jaw. "Did I need a reason? I can't help everybody I come across. Some people have problems that are way beyond my scope. That's why I like to help where I can. It's philanthropy… I think. Or something like that." He looked her up and down apprehensively. "Besides, you remind me of someone I knew."

Ingvild wondered how many people he'd already helped. Of course, she was just one more person he could add to his list, if he were keeping tabs. It really didn't matter that he'd helped her at all. He would have done the same for anybody in her position, right?

The only reason he'd chosen to help was that it was convenient. It only made sense. He was that type of person.

Despite that…

Despite how insignificant she must have been to him… Ingvild was glad he'd been there to save her. She didn't deserve his help—especially not him putting himself in danger for her sake.

Part of her, though, was glad. Selfishly, she was glad he'd saved her.

"Thanks," she said. "You saved my life. I don't know if I can repay you the way you deserve."

"You can definitely repay me," he said.

"How?"

He walked to the nightstand and took the empty glass. "If you ever have the chance to help another person, you should do it. I don't need anything else from you. Just that."

She blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it," he confirmed. "Help make one person's life better, and it'll be enough for me."

Ingvild, recalling the way the mere presence of his hand on her shoulder had relayed his gravitas, doubted in her ability to do what he did. "You… make it sound too easy. But you're incredibly strong, aren't you? I felt it."

"You aren't giving yourself enough credit." Percy shrugged. "A friend of mine tells me you're pretty powerful. She thinks you'll be able to do amazing things. I know I'm putting my faith in you when we're practically strangers, but just from the time we've spent talking, you strike me as a good person. That's why I'm asking you to do this. You can help people, Ingvild. I'm sure you can."

His voice swept over Ingvild, the sheer amount of confidence he was demanding her to acknowledge almost overwhelming. A shiver ran through her; goosebumps prickled her skin.

Something hot swelled within her chest.

A good person wouldn't let other people put themselves at risk for her sake.

"I'm… I'm…"

"More than enough," he said. "You're more than enough."

"If that's what you're asking…" Ingvild, galvanized, felt like she'd been filled by some of his vast confidence. Just a bit. It was hard not to feel carried away when he looked at her like that—spoke to her like that.

He was something else, she realized.

"I'll try."

And despite his confidence leaking into her, all she could muster to respond with was meandering and non-committal.

"Sure. That's the spirit." Percy smiled. This time, his smile seemed a lot more natural. "Thanks."

Ingvild felt like she was curled up beneath the duvet again, warm and content.

She continued to feel that way long after Percy had left the room.

Her heart kept pounding.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Scalding water formed small rivers over Ingvild's skin, spraying her from the showerhead above.

Percy had offered her his bathroom so she could wash the dried grime away. Of course, she'd gratefully accepted his generosity, even though she didn't deserve it.

Ponderously, she ran her fingers over her most grievous wounds from the night before. The only sign she'd ever been injured came in the form of a slightly pale discoloration of her skin on both her shoulder and leg. Given that she was already quite pale, the scars were hardly anything noticeable.

As steam rose and thickened, her thoughts returned to that place in the Underworld, where she'd found herself just a couple of weeks ago.

It had been beautiful—a manor house, two levels of beige and gray stone located only a short trot away from a large lake.

Ingvild had spent the first few days after her awakening relegated to the confines of that manor house. The servants—those bound to the Leviathan bloodline by old loyalties—hadn't allowed her to wander very far, fearing that her health could take a turn for the worst at any moment.

However, once the first week had passed, and once her health had been checked by every physician on the household's payroll, she'd finally been given clearance to go outside.

The most notable difference between the Underworld and Earth was the sky's color. In the Underworld, the sky was never anything but purple. There were no nights. The Underworld was in perpetual daytime, though there was no shining sun in the purple sky. Honestly, she didn't know how it worked.

The lack of a day-and-night cycle had actually caused her some problems at first. She would accidentally spend hours by the lake, lost in a daze, unable to find her bearings with so much happening around her.

Ulestar—the devil who seemed most protective of her—put a stop to that behavior fairly quickly. He'd insisted on teaching her about the new era she'd found herself in.

As it turned out, Ulestar had been preparing such a curriculum for a long time leading up to her awakening.

Not that he'd known when she would wake, or even if she would wake. Nevertheless, he'd prepared, just to be safe.

It was a good thing he had. Ingvild had been in desperate need of clarification, which Ulestar never hesitated to provide.

And just as she'd started growing accustomed to her new status quo, right when she was starting to realize her new normal, the manor house overlooking the lake became a cage of fire and ash, burning around her, falling around her.

Those people she barely even knew fought to defend her from the other devils who attacked the manor house.

Many of them had died. Some, she'd seen die before her very eyes.

Ulestar had remained in the Underworld to keep the other devils from pursuing after he'd sent her through a magic portal.

She wondered if he was still alive. She hoped he was.

Too many people had already died for a person like her. They would never get anything for their sacrifice either, since she'd never learned many of the servants' names. She hadn't even been able to do that for them. Apparently, even that was too much of a task for her to handle.

Her heart pounded: Boom-boom.

She was the worst kind of person, wasn't she? Despite what others thought, Ingvild knew she was worthless. It made sense. She couldn't do anything.

"You can help people, Ingvild. I know you can."

Despite how hot it had become inside the bathroom, a shiver traveled from the base of her neck and spread quickly throughout her body.

Confidence and earnestness… Percy had shown so much of both.

For her, no less.

"I'll try," she whispered. "I'll try."

Ingvild wanted to believe in him. But how could she, when she'd done nothing to earn any of his faith?

"You're more than enough."

The words felt bitter and trivial. They were lies, she knew.

What did Percy even see in her? They had just met. They were strangers. All they'd done was talk for less than thirty minutes. She recalled the crushing pressure he'd relayed to her with just his touch.

Why could he put his faith in her to do as he'd asked? How could he have more faith in her than she did in herself?

Ingvild had never done anything to deserve his confidence. Not once. She couldn't remember a single time in her life where she'd done anything exceptional. Even her time in primary school had proven that she was a mediocre pupil.

Nothing about her was worth the effort of helping or protecting.

Yet, people still helped and protected her. They died for her. Why was that?

Why?

Why?

Just because of the blood in her veins? How was that fair to people who actually deserved help?

What am I doing? She closed her eyes and put her head against the bath's wall. Reaching out, she turned the water control to the left as far as it could go. The scalding water became even hotter as it tore at her face. I've already gotten Percy attacked. He's in danger with me around. I shouldn't be here.

All she'd ever done was burden other people. She was worse than worthless.

"Thanks."

Bile rose in her throat. That word… Percy's smile…

It was all too much. Too much, too fast. Her parents, her life, a hundred years, her protectors… Percy… everything… all for her… all for her. But why? Why was it her? Why did it have to be her?

"You strike me as a good person."

Again, his words felt like a punch in her gut. The memory of his confidence filtered into her.

And she remembered the confidence she'd felt. Though it was secondhand confidence, Ingvild suddenly didn't want to let go of it.

Her heart pounded and pounded.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Ingvild was drying herself with a towel Percy had provided when she heard a knock on the bathroom door. She glanced toward the sharp noise, just about to venture a question when, suddenly, the door was pushed open. She had barely covered her body with the towel when a blue-haired woman walked into the bathroom carrying a bundle.

The two of them looked at each other for a second before the woman spoke.

"Awake and alive, I see," she said. Her voice was like something out of a fairy tale: that was the only way Ingvild could describe or imagine it. That was the only place a voice like hers could even exist.

"Yeah…" Ingvild awkwardly glanced to the side. If she remembered right, this woman had been with Percy when they'd found her. "Um, thanks for helping me. The potion you gave Percy probably saved my life."

The woman raised a condescending eyebrow. "Probably? There are no two ways about it. You would have died if not for those counterfeit Phoenix Tears. That's reality."

"Right." She shuffled in place, as thrown by the woman's attitude as she was by her sudden appearance in the bathroom. The mat beneath her had started to soak through. "I don't think I can repay you for—"

"Maybe you can't, maybe you can," the woman said abruptly. "It doesn't matter. Those fake Phoenix Tears are hardly worth a debt to someone like me. Besides, I doubt you'd have anything to offer. Percy told me about your extenuating circumstances. Collecting from you would be cruel."

Ingvild swallowed a bitter torrent of spit. "He told you?"

"He did. Not that you had to hide it. Not from me, at least."

"Oh." The truth was that Ingvild hadn't been planning on hiding it. Her disappointment only came from the fact that Percy had gone ahead and told someone else without asking her if she would be fine with it.

But maybe this was for the best. Keeping secrets from people would only end up hurting them in the long run, right?

"Ah, yes. I should introduce myself." The woman casually flicked her hand out in a gesture of greeting. "I am Dragon King Tiamat, greatest of the five. Well-met, Ingvild Leviathan."

Dragon King? Ingvild wasn't sure what a Dragon King was, but it sounded important. More than that, it sounded dangerous.

She dipped her head a bit. "It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure it is. That aside, I've brought you some clothes." Tiamat set the bundle down on top of the vanity.

"Oh. Thanks." Ingvild was starting to feel overwhelmed by the support she was getting. She'd already been overwhelmed just a few minutes ago, and now more people were helping her.

It didn't make sense.

"These are my clothes, by the way. Please try not to ruin them."

"I won't," Ingvild promised.

"Good. I'll leave you to get dressed, then." Tiamat gave Ingvild a lingering look, then left the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Ingvild waited for a few heartbeats before letting herself relax. She sifted through the bundle of clothes, finding a skirt, a blouse, and underwear, but no stockings or socks. Still, she quickly pulled the clothes onto herself, grateful to be in something other than the blood-and-mud soaked mess that her previous dress had become.

Taking a final glance at herself in the long mirror mounted to the wall, she breathed deeply, hoping to steady her anxieties from building into something uncontrollable. After a few seconds, she nodded firmly and walked out of the bathroom.

And as if the world was trying to beat her down, she walked right into Percy, who had been passing through the hallway at that particular moment.

She jerked away from him as soon as their shoulders touched. Her back hit the wall hard. His gravitas hadn't pressed down on her.

"Woah," Percy hadn't reacted apart from raising one eyebrow. "You all right there, Ingvild? Looks like someone just zapped you with a cattle prod."

"I'm fine." She shook her head twice. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"Same." He looked her up and down. "You're looking... better."

"Thanks for letting me use your shower."

"Don't mention it. Everyone deserves to feel clean. I'm pretty sure that's a basic human right or something."

She rubbed her arm. He coughed awkwardly.

"That was supposed to get at least a chuckle," he said quietly.

"Sorry. Um... haha?"

Percy shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, I had a few more things I forgot to ask earlier."

"What kind of things?" Ingvild tried to sound calm, but inside, she imagined what he would say. Already frazzled, she shifted, the cold hardwood floor striking needles into the soles of her feet. She knew his generosity could only extend so far. It wasn't fair to him if she kept taking from him without offering something in return.

The problem was that she didn't have anything to offer.

"Come on, we can talk about it over lunch," Percy said, gesturing for her to follow. He led her to the kitchen.

Dragon King Tiamat was already sitting at the kitchen's lone rectangular island, finishing the remains of a sandwich. Percy made a clucking noise with his tongue. "Tiamat, I asked you to wait for us."

The woman shook her head and threw the last bite into her mouth. She smacked her lips a few times. "You took too long. Mmm. This was quite good. Seconds?"

"Not for free."

"Shame."

Percy went over and sat in the stool beside Dragon King Tiamat. Ingvild followed, sitting beside him so that they formed a row of three. She looked at the plated sandwich in front of her. It seemed benign. The scent of meat and cheese made her mouth water.

Using the corner of her eye, she watched as Percy practically inhaled his own sandwich. How he was able to chew so fast was beyond her; how he didn't choke amazed her.

I really am surrounded by incredible people, she thought.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked, startling her. He pointed at her still-untouched sandwich. "You haven't even started. Are you allergic?"

"No," Ingvild quickly moved to assuage him. She scooped up the sandwich and, without standing on ceremony, took a large bite. Much larger than she normally would have, especially given that she was in another person's company.

"Don't force yourself for my sake," Percy said, one eyebrow arched, watching Ingvild skeptically.

Ingvild chewed and swallowed. The big chunk of meat, cheese, and bread barely made it down her throat. "It's good. Thanks."

"No problem." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, I know it's in bad taste for me to ask, but I'm wondering what your plans are, Ingvild."

Plans? Ingvild realized she hadn't thought so far ahead. For the most part, she'd been focused on other things. A mistake, for sure. "I'm not too sure."

Tiamat spoke up, leaning into the island so she could make eye contact. "You'd best find something to be sure about soon. If you don't, we'll have wasted our efforts with you."

Percy cleared his throat sharply. "What she's trying to say is... you're in a tough spot. Look, I don't think sugarcoating it will do you any good. Ingvild, you can either fight or you can die. The second option is easy. The first is a lot harder, but it's also more rewarding. Possibly."

"I... don't think I want to die," Ingvild said slowly.

In no way did she have the right to die. Not after receiving the support she had. It wouldn't be fair to all those people who had gone through the trouble of helping her.

"I'm glad to hear that," Percy said, sounding relieved. "I'm willing to offer advice, though I can only talk from my personal experiences. Your mileage may vary."

"I think I need advice," Ingvild admitted.

"Well, from my experience, the best thing to do is to take action." He rubbed his jaw pensively. A frown crawled onto his face. "I was in a similar situation a long time ago. There were these two gods who thought I stole something important. Of course, I didn't steal it, but they wanted me to hand it over regardless. Both of them wanted to kill me."

Ingvild blinked numbly. "What did you do?"

"Got a couple of friends to join me on a cross-country road trip to find the entrance of the Underworld. Turns out the whole thing was a conspiracy by an ancient evil to overturn the established world order for personal gain. I'd been framed so the gods would start World War III." Percy nodded. "Those were simpler times."

"Did you die?" Tiamat asked.

"Surprisingly, no."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. How drab."

Percy crossed his arms. "Look, maybe going to the Underworld is a common thing around these parts, but where I'm from, even gods stay away from the Underworld. Only Hades and his entourage hang out down there. Papa H and the Funky Bunch, some people call them."

Tiamat snapped her fingers. "So your Underworld is our Netherworld. For some reason, I want to say that's a very topical revelation."

"Um... what kind of action should I take?" Ingvild asked, hoping to move back to the topic they'd originally been on.

"Good question," Percy said, tapping his finger by her plate. "That's something you have to figure out. I can't make those kinds of decisions for you."

Ingvild thought about what Percy had said earlier. She thought about what she could do.

"You can help people, Ingvild. I know you can."

She thought back to the lakeside manor house she'd been living in for the past two weeks. When they'd been attacked, she hadn't been able to act. The devils protecting her had died because of that. The house had burned.

As much as she wanted to believe in Ulestar, Ingvild couldn't help but think he was also dead.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to die. I'll take action." She looked at Percy. "But I don't know how. Will you help me learn?"

"I can only do so much in that department. What you're asking for is a new frame of mind. Hard stuff to change. It takes time. That said, having some confidence goes a long way."

"Confidence? Can you learn how to be confident?"

Percy's wry, stilted half-smile spoke volumes.

Author Note: Big thanks to everyone for supporting the story.

Ingvild: 17-year-old girl falls asleep one night then wakes up in a totally different era, one century later, her friends and family dead, separated from the culture she'd grown attached to, learns she's now a devil, and is hunted by a shady organization. That's a recipe for trauma if I've ever heard one. She doesn't have to vocalize how the pressure affects her, but mentally it would probably be at least a bit tough.

Am I straying too far from her dandere appeal? Or maybe Ishibumi pulled a fast one on me, and her dandere appeal stems from introversion due to PTSD.

In the novels, Ingvild apparently suffers from some memory loss after waking up, which might explain why she's able to emotionally detach herself from the stuff that's happened to her. Maybe the translation is making it hard for me to grasp exactly what she's feeling. She does seem to (possibly) dissociate by saying she feels like "the present time was just a dream."

If you have thoughts on the subject, I'd like to hear them. It might help me see something I'm missing.

Thanks for reading.