Later on in the afternoon, Grace found herself summoned to appear before Komui. Once there she was met with a team of scientists, all of whom she immediately recognized as the Chief's personal friends.
But there was someone else. He was dressed in a crisp uniform vaguely mirroring Komui's; however, this man had sharp, mercurial silver eyes and a beret atop his thick blonde hair.
"Grace, this is Bak Chang. He is the Asian Branch Chief. I asked him to help design your uniform and with the tests I mentioned earlier."
Grace bowed slightly to the man.
"You're a magician," she stated.
He blinked owlishly.
"Indeed, I am."
Bak glanced at Komui with a quirked eyebrow. The European Chief gave Bak a peculiar look over the rims of his spectacles.
Bak shook his head and faced the girl once more.
"If you'll come this way, Miss Blüdhaven."
She nodded firmly and allowed him to lead her out. His hand politely remained on the small of her back. He was rather short for someone his age; but there was an air surrounding him that showed he was a man to be taken seriously.
"So, miss Blüdhaven, I hear you possess quite a unique array of powers; some of which are very much akin to magic."
He regarded her with sharp, bright, mercury-silver eyes.
Grace did her best to meet his gaze.
"I suppose that you could refer to my abilities as...magical."
His eyebrows rose.
"Oh? Then how do you classify them?"
Grace clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to cry.
"Curses. Useful at times, but curses nonetheless."
He hummed thoughtfully. A small smile danced onto Bak's lips.
"You have a rather...unique outlook on being one of God's Apostles."
She sensed the thinly veiled cynicism in the ending nickname and sneered.
"Did you think I'd be honored and humbled to fight in a war I don't necessarily support with powers I never asked for?"
The Asian Chief barked out a laugh.
"I see your point."
He paused.
"I hope that this isn't taken the wrong way, but you are quite different from what I anticipated."
She offered him a crooked smile.
"I'll take it as a compliment. Different how?"
Bak was quiet for a while, seemingly gathering his thoughts.
"Back when Walker was recovering from his battle with the Noah known as Tyki Mikk, I heard him call out your name in what appeared to be a very intense nightmare."
Their footsteps seemed too loud for the quiet air that surrounded them, echoing noisily on the stone walls.
"Sometimes, the Lyricist can perceive the voices of people I am close to, no matter the distance. I can hear them in dreams. A scream, a cry, any sort of verbal exchange. Especially if they are in emotional duress or peril. I guess that is her way of mocking me."
Bak was taken aback by the smallness of her voice.
"You refer to your Innocence as if it is a person," he quietly remarked.
Grace's bowed head suddenly shot up. She glared at him with eyes that were not her own; eyes that were quartered by cross-shaped pupils and glittered like polished jade with loathing and outrage.
"I was a person, you goddamned human!"
As if by reflex, Bak snatched the summoning stone from his beret and took a defensive stance. The incantation that would summon his family's guardian deity surfaced on his lips.
But before said incantation could be spoken, her shoulders slumped and the shape of her eyes returned to their former state.
A line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and eyelids.
"I c-can only hold her back for so long. Chief-"
She coughed, spraying red.
"Knock me out. Find Allen. It's the only way to...!"
He stared at her speechlessly.
"What are you talking about?!"
She fell to the floor, her head smacking on the stone. The girl went limp.
He gaped, unsure if what had just happened had actually been real. He picked her up and carried her back up the steps, breaking into a run.
"Komui? There's a situation. Find Walker and meet me in the hospital ward. Don't give me that, just do it!"

The two Chiefs and exorcist hovered near Grace's unconscious body, now placed on a small hospital bed.
"Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?" Komui said with thinly veiled anger.
Bak scowled.
"I already told you. We were walking down to Hevlaaska's and all of a sudden she snapped at me. It was like-"
"Like she was possessed?"
Komui and Bak turned to Allen. He'd taken a seat next to Grace's cot, holding her hand gently. His silver eyes were downcast with sorrow.
"You wouldn't be far off to make that assumption. Grace doesn't really tell many people about this; I imagine because she doesn't quite understand it herself."
Allen clutched her hand tighter as Grace whimpered in her sleep, face scrunching up in pain.
"Like she said, the Lyricist isn't just a title for her Innocence. From what little she told me, and from what I heard she told our Master, the Lyricist was a person once. And Grace became the unfortunate host after the Lyricist died."
"Are you saying that this Lyricist was a Noah?"
Allen shook his head.
"No, not that's not quite it. She was something else. I think Grace called her...a Nephilim. An angel that fell from heaven."
"You're kidding. Those kinds of creatures are supposed to be biblical myths," Bak pointed out.
"So were the Noah. And yet here we are," Allen replied.
He paused.
"Like a Noah, the Lyricist could pass on her memories to a new body. But that person had to be special. If any random human was chosen, they'd likely die instantly. It had to be someone with preexisting ties to God."
"And since Grace is also an Accommodator of Innocence..." Komui trailed off, an expression of grim understanding settling on his face.
"She was the logical choice," Allen finished.
"There's still something that doesn't make sense. If this Lyricist isn't an actual Noah, why does she have so much hatred for humans? Why would she attack?"
Allen sighed.
"I don't know. I suppose the only one who knows the answer to that is the Lyricist herself."
Komui cast a look upon the fitfully slumbering Grace.
"Let's keep this silent. I don't need to give Director Lveielle another reason to..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Bak seemed to understand somehow, his eyes narrowing.
Allen nodded, masking his confusion.
"I suppose we will have to hold off on the party and everything for now."
Komui left, seemingly trying to school his expression as he disappeared from view.
Bak lingered at the door.
"Will she be alright, Walker?"
Allen was quiet.
Bak watched the Crown Clown for a moment. There seemed to be some sort of deeper bond between Allen and the girl, one that transcended the relationships he had with others.
The Asian Chief silently took his leave, deciding that that conclusion was the only answer he'd get for now.
But something still bugged him.
The girl seemed to be able to psychologically suppress the Lyricist with some sort of will.
That was almost impossible in the case of a host of a Noah; such willpower only lasted so long before the host was erased forever by the Noah.
From what Bak understood, this Lyricist had been present since the girl's childhood as a pupil of General Cross.
How had "Grace" been able to survive for this long? How had that person managed to maintain her individuality against such a being like the Lyricist?
These were questions he didn't dare ask the girl. She'd been exceedingly reluctant to reveal the small amount of information she had to him; it obviously wasn't a topic she commonly discussed, nor did she seem to like to.
Bak's curiosity really was getting the best of him.
But common sense was putting up a fight as well.

Grace sluggishly awoke to Allen's sleeping head at her side. It appeared that she'd been taken to the hospital wing, and someone had summoned Allen to be by her side.
She smiled fondly, her eyes hallow.
He didn't have to stay with her for so long.
Grace knew that he'd chosen to, though.
She sat up slowly, hissing at the painful pounding of a headache against her skull.
Her hands gripped the thin sheets tightly.
As if she needed to look any weaker than she knew people already said she was.
A half-laugh, half-sob bubbled in Grace's throat.
Soon, her shoulders shook in the effort to quiet her own weeping.
Allen sat up, roused from slumber by the muffled noise of Grace's tears landing on the blanket.
He gazed at her sadly, scooting closer to ease her into a hug.
She clung to his coat, sobbing into the coarse fabric.
"I didn't mean to let her out. I didn't..!" Her muffled voice desperately claimed.
"I know you didn't. Chief Bak is okay. Neither she nor you hurt him. You're safe now, okay?" He murmured gently.
"It isn't your fault. These kinds of things just happen."
Grace trembled in Allen's arms.
"I'm sorry, Allen. I only cause trouble for you."
The Crown Clown shook his head vehemently.
"There's nothing you need to apologize for. It's my job to help those in trouble, and that includes you. As long as you'll let me, I'll be here for you. Remember?"
She nodded mutely.
All of a sudden, two hungry stomachs grumbled in unison.
Grace and Allen shared quiet snickers. As Parasitic types, their appetites seemed to have minds of their own.
"Are you up to visiting the cafeteria?"
She hummed in affirmation.
"I'll have to be quick. I don't want to get on the nurse's bad side so soon."
Allen laughed.
"I'll vouch for you. She's used to me leaving to grab food."
Allen guided Grace to the cafeteria, her arm looped through his. She held onto him, partially from uneasiness and also from the persistent headache.
Suddenly, a golden mass barreled into Grace's shoulder. It fluttered around her head, its revealed mouth scowling.
"Wha-? Timcanpy? Way to scare me!" Grace exclaimed.
"Where have you been?!" Allen demanded of the golem.
The golem danced in the air, flapping his wings as if telling them to follow him.
The two shared a look, but followed Timcanpy until they burst through the doors of the dining hall.
They were faced with a chorus of greetings and cheers. A large banner hung from above, hastily painted with the words: Welcome, Grace Bludhaven!
Heaping platters of various foods were spread across several long tables that had been pushed together. The crowd consisted mostly of scientists, easy to spot from their disheveled appearances and lab coats, as well as a few Finders. All the resident exorcists were present; even the very much reluctant Kanda, who stood off to the side, his arms folded to match a terse frown. Grace was frozen in place, utterly dumbstruck by the display. Allen grinned at her.
"To be honest, I thought they were going to save the party for tomorrow. Sorry I didn't tell you; we wanted for this to be a surprise."
He recoiled at the sight of tears streaming freely down her cheeks. The chatter died down as Grace's demeanor was noticed.
"Grace? What's wrong? If it is too much, we can-"
The dark haired girl laughed through a sob. She beamed at Allen, wiping at her face with his offered handkerchief.
"I have always hated parties, Allen. Even so," Grace sniffled.
"I think, for this, I can make an exception."
"Truthfully, most of the credit goes to Allen. He was the one who helped bring everything together," Lenalee admitted, smiling at the Crown Clown.
Allen scratched the bridge of his nose, laughing sheepishly, a crooked grin on his lips.
Grace gave him a watery smile as she hugged him tightly, hiding her tears on his chest.
"Thank you, Allen," she cried, her gratefulness muffled in his coat.
He patted her on the back.
"No need to thank me. You're part of this family now."
Grace was silent. She mouthed the word thoughtfully.
Family.
When was it that she'd last heard that word?
Was it...Mama?
Anaïs. Yes. That had to be it. She wasn't actually Grace's mother by blood; but she was the closest person to a mother Grace had ever had.
And, upon further reflection, Allen was as dear to her as a brother.
Could these people really see Grace as more than a comrade-in-arms in the unrelenting crusade in which they were so entangled in? Was such a bond truly possible?
Grace did not hold the answers to said questions, nor was she certain of the likelihood of them receiving answers.
A thought occurred to Grace as she was guided to the festivities: perhaps the solutions could be reached here. While she wasn't too keen on the founding principles of the Black Order, nor the methods in which they applied for the sake of the war, Grace wagered that donning their coat and feigning their ideologies was her best bet, being who she was.
A dry laugh echoed through her mind; one of which Grace had not actively made.
Grace felt a queasiness fray her nerves.
The woman was back. Her presence was clawing at Grace's mind, a ravenous creature imprisoned by spells and psychic walls.
But those barricades were beginning to weaken.
"Not now," Grace mumbled miserably.
Allen turned to her, a skewer of mitarashi dango halted in its path to his mouth.
"What's wrong?" He asked through chipmunk-like cheeks bulging with food.
She smiled fondly, wiping her handkerchief at his mouth.
"It's nothing, Allen. Nothing at all."