Niijima Makoto opened her eyes. She was on her back, on a soft mattress, and a deep red fabric hung above her and all around her. It was a bed canopy, she realized; a canopy and the encompassing curtains of a grandiose four-post bed, all made of a slightly gleaming fabric. Velvet, if she had to guess. Then she realized her body was wrapped in the fuzzy feeling of velvet cloth. She made to sit up, but a sharp stab of pain in her left chest made her gasp and collapse back onto the pillow.

That's right. She'd been shot. Because she'd been a total moron and pulled a rifle into her own chest. How stupid could she be?

Makoto rolled over onto her right side, then pushed herself up with her right arm- wincing instinctively as her left side objected to the changes in position. The velvet blanket fell from her as she sat up, causing a sudden gust of cooler air to flow against her breasts. She was naked! Makoto instinctively jerked the blanket back up, which changed her position, and a sudden jab of pain drove her back to the mattress, breathless.

Get it together. Calm down. Think. No more recklessness!

Makoto huddled under the blanket while the pain faded again. Someone had to have undressed her, to see the wound, surely- so being naked wasn't necessarily a sign she was in danger. Makoto looked down at her own chest, and just above her heart, a circular scar was clearly evident above the upper rim of her left breast- but it was unlike any scar she'd ever seen- it was gray, like crushed gravel. She touched it and found it alarmingly hard and smooth…. like- like Ren's strange armor plates…

"Welcome," said a nasally voice from outside the bed curtains, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

Makoto's body froze in alarm. That sounded like a male voice, though it was so high-pitched it was hard to be sure. Perhaps the physician who had treated her wound? Perhaps the owner of whatever house she must be within? This wasn't the Niijima Estate, Makoto was sure.

Maybe Ren had brought her somewhere for emergency treatment? But did Ren know other people in the city? Was she in the city at all? These were questions Makoto could not answer by hiding inside the small box of a canopied bed. She gathered up the velvet blanket and covered herself securely, then reached for the bed curtains, her hand searching the velvet for its hidden seam, and finally found it, allowing Makoto to peak out and see the rest of the room for the first time.

It was a small, stone-walled chamber that was mostly filled by a divan couch atop a large squarish rug on a dark wood floor. The couch and the rug were also of the deep red velvet of her bed. And sitting on the couch was a gangly, bony-looking old man with an alarmingly beakish nose.

"Welcome to my Velvet Room, Niijima Makoto," said the little man.

His… velvet room? Was this troll of a man a physician? Or was he something more sinister?! Had Makoto's own allies somehow lost track of her when she was unconscious? Was she in some sort of pervert's pleasure dungeon?! Why was it red?!

Makoto's eyes roved the small chamber for an exit. It would be a simple task to overpower little big-nose and find out where-

The little man let out a queer, unsettling laugh. "You are quite safe here, I assure you. There's nothing here except you. Here is you, in fact." He laughed again.

Naked in a strange room with a strange man, Makoto was not inclined to believe that claim. "Where am I, and who are you?"

"As I said: you are here. You are also in your bed, recovering form a grievous wound. As for my name…" The beak-nosed man giggled to himself. "Who am I? Who is he who is no who?"

"What?" said Makoto.

"Now! That is the right question!" The man stood up from the couch, revealing a black suit in a style Makoto had never seen before- but she recognized it as a form of tuxedo, or butler's uniform perhaps.

"I am the Integrated Genetic/Organic Recompiler. Or I.G.O.R., for short."

"…The-? Igor?" Makoto wondered if the man was speaking a different language half of the time. She understood the words, but she wasn't sure of the meaning.

"Yes?" said Igor, bowing again. "Your damage is repaired. Your body will finish the task on its own. Now: How may I further assist you today, User-Three?"

"User-Three? What is that?"

"You are that!" The man pointed a long, thin finger at Makoto's face. "You. The unspecified user interacting with I.G.O.R."

This was definitely a dream. A crazy dream. But why wasn't Makoto waking up?

"Unspecified?" said Makoto.

"For the moment. Do you wish to create an account?"

"What? An- an account?"

"Yes. It only takes a few moments. Let us begin: Please declare user-name."

"User-name? My name? I'm Niijima. Niijima Makoto."

Igor nodded. "Do you wish to apply for administrator privileges?"

"Um- yes?" What was he talking about?

Igor frowned. "Request denied. However, you may still integrate with I.G.O.R. with basic status. Account creation complete. How may I further assist you today, Niijima Makoto?"

"This is a dream," said Makoto, the rapid-fire conversation was giving her a headache. She was pretty sure that she and Igor were having entirely different conversations. She had no idea what this strange man was talking about, but her questions seemed to satisfy him. "This is some strange dream."

"Not at all," said Igor, "This is not a dream. But it is also close enough, heehee."

Not a dream, but close enough? It certainly didn't feel like a dream now, unless this was how all dreams felt prior to awakening. No, this is charlatan work. Mummery. This was no dream!

"What do you want?!" said Makoto.

But Igor only grinned back at her.

"I think she's coming around," said Igor, his voice sounding slightly different.

"What are-?" said Makoto, as she began to feel dizzy.

"Hime-kun?" said Igor, his voice changing, growing deeper. "Makoto? Are you awake?"

Makoto opened her eyes. Yoshida was looking down at her, a look of concern rapidly turning to one of profound relief. Dr. Takemi was nearby, a look of concentrated evaluation on her face. Makoto explored herself with her hands- she was not naked, but in a solid cotton shift, so her nakedness had been a dream. But the strange hardness of her wound was not- her fingers found that same hard texture above her breast…

"Lady Niijima, how do you feel?" said Takemi.

"I-" said Makoto, but the word caught in her dry throat. She coughed, and that convulsion of her chest sent an explosion of pain ricocheting around the inside of her head. Simultaneously, a general weight of malaise settled upon her forehead.

"Water, Lady Niijima?" said Yoshida.

It was all Makoto could do to nod lightly amidst a sudden and terrible headache. She reached for the offered glass, the water within the center of her entire universe. Makoto had never felt so thirsty in her life. She drank, motioned for a refill, drank again.

Calmer now, she looked around the room as she drank her third glass. No red velvet here. This was one of the first-floor guest rooms. One designed for children, as there were four single beds here, and the one next to Makoto was occupied by Sakamoto Ann, still unconscious, but peaceful and her cheeks held a healthy color.

A black cat was lounging on Ann's stomach- it blinked at Makoto lazily. Did one of the servants own a cat? Why was it in here?

"Ms. Sakamoto is recovering," said Yoshida, taking Makoto's empty glass. "Thanks to Ms. Takemi, both of you are."

"I don't think I had much to do with it," said Takemi. Then she leaned in towards Makoto's chest, pulling down the collar of her shift to look at Makoto's strange scar. some frustration in her voice. She lightly touched Makoto's scar, and Makoto noticed she couldn't feel Takemi's fingers when they passed over her wound. It was like a blind spot on her own flesh. "It seems healed. Which is impossible, but here it is. Do you feel pain, Lady Niijima?"

"Yes, when I breathe, a little," admitted Makoto. "And when I move in certain ways."

"Is the pain deep in your chest, or is it just under the surface?"

"Just under the surface."

Takemi clicked her tongue and straightened up. "Just one of your ribs, I think. The pain will pass in time. I would say a few weeks, but in your case, who knows? A few days? A few hours? You should be dead, Lady Niijima. Both of you. That dhampir of yours is a good dog, indeed."

A good dog? Ren? "What?" said Makoto.

"Nevermind," sighed Takemi, looking even more frustrated.

Yoshida gave Makoto a look, but whatever message he was trying to send, Makoto didn't understand it. Regardless, Makoto had another pressing question: "How is Ms. Ann?"

"Healing," said Takemi, curtly. "She hasn't woken, yet, but her wound seems to be a week healed instead of hours fresh."

"And the cat? Is it alright to have it on her like that?"

In answer, Takemi approached the black cat and reached for it. It hissed viciously and swatted at Takemi's hand with a clawed paw. It emitted a low, menacing feline moan until Takemi withdrew a few steps. "It has other ideas," said Takemi. "And the patient seems to benefit from the animal's presence."

"What? Why?" said Makoto.

"I have no idea!" snapped Takemi. "I have no idea about any of this! I have no idea why I've spent my life studying the body when all is needed is some- some sorcery!"

Takemi stomped out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. Makoto watched her leave and then gave the silent Yoshida a questioning gaze. What was going on?

"Dr. Takemi had been awake all night," said Yoshida, "She's watched over you all this time. We all have. Forgive her. It's been a long night."

Yoshida leaned forward in his chair and grasped Makoto's hand. "I'm so- so relieved to see you awake. I thought I'd- we would lose you."

Makoto could see emotion shining in the corner of Yoshida's eyes. She felt a warm, contended feeling in her own chest. The dark interior of the Madarame Mansion seemed as forgettable as a fleeting nightmare, evaporating in the morning sunlight which streaming through the arced windows of the bedroom.

"So," said a serious female voice. A tall, stern woman was leaning against the doorway of the guest room. Her silver hair was cascading over broad shoulders, and crimson eyes glared out at Makoto with a sparkling intensity.

"What exactly have you been up to, Makoto?" said Niijima Sae.

Yoshida let go of Makoto's hand and turned to look towards the door. Makoto swallowed, her hand returning to the scar on her own chest. A sudden jab of pain accompanied her small gasp.

"Sis!"

Makoto had previously thought of several ways to handle this reunion with Sae; elder sister and true heir to Father's title, lands, and everything. Makoto had thought of pointed arguments, logical ripostes, and counterattacks to dozens of Sae's potential arguments for Makoto's activities- and the hiring of a half-vampire, which Sae was sure to hate.

But for the argument, Makoto hadn't exactly imagined herself in her own bed, mostly naked, and recovering from a near fatal failure. No, she really hadn't thought of that eventuality. At all.

"Well," said Sae. "I'm waiting."