It's been a week since Gudako Fujimaru summoned the enigmatic Assassin-class Servant, Patrick Bateman, to Chaldea. From the moment he arrived, her life had taken a strange turn—not because of any battles or heroic deeds, but because of Bateman's bizarre habits and compulsions.
Sitting at her desk in her personal quarters, Gudako inspects yet another glossy business card Bateman has designed, featuring the Chaldea logo and a minimalist typeface that somehow screams "high society." She shakes her head, a mix of amusement and exasperation in her expression.
"How many of these does he need?" she mutters to herself, flipping the card between her fingers. "Isn't one enough?"
As if on cue, the door to her room opens, and Patrick Bateman strides in with his usual controlled, almost robotic elegance. He's dressed impeccably, as always, his suit pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight. His gaze flickers toward her, and despite his intense demeanor, there's a faint glimmer of something in his eyes—satisfaction, maybe even contentment. Oddly enough, he seems genuinely happy here.
"Good morning, Gudako," Bateman says in his cool, measured tone. "I trust you've seen the new set of business cards I designed for Chaldea?" He gestures to the stack sitting neatly on the table. "I thought it would help cement our professionalism. First impressions are everything, after all."
Gudako raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You've made at least a hundred of them. I think we're covered for now."
Patrick leans back, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room as if he's analyzing every detail, making sure everything is in perfect order. "It's all part of maintaining a refined image. Chaldea represents more than just the summoning of Servants. It should reflect precision, class… excellence." He pauses, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Just like my morning routine."
Gudako stifles a laugh. She had become intimately familiar with Bateman's obsessive morning rituals over the past week. The early workouts, the meticulous steaming of his clothes, and his near-ritualistic skincare regimen—all things she had once considered normal but now seemed strangely excessive under his intense scrutiny. Yet, she had to admit, the skincare routine he crafted for her had been surprisingly effective.
"Yeah, yeah," Gudako says with a wave of her hand, her tone light. "You've got me on a whole new morning routine, and I'll admit, it's… pretty solid." She gestures to her own glowing complexion. "But seriously, why are you this obsessed with skincare and business cards?"
Bateman's expression doesn't change, though his eyes darken slightly as he contemplates her question. "Perfection, Gudako," he says in a voice that's almost eerie in its calmness. "It's about control. In a world of chaos, where we deal with impossible threats and catastrophic events, routines, image, and order are the only things that keep us from descending into madness."
There's a beat of silence, and Gudako feels a faint chill in the air, despite his seemingly logical explanation. Bateman turns his gaze back to her, his eyes devoid of anything that could be called emotion, yet his smile is strangely genuine.
"You might find it trivial, but this is how I maintain focus. In this chaotic world, where we're constantly at war, constantly under threat—I have to maintain that control. Without it, I am simply… not there." He trails off, his voice dropping into a near whisper, the last words laden with an eerie hollowness that sends a shiver down Gudako's spine.
Despite his usual unnerving presence, Gudako realizes something about him—he does seem happier here, in this bizarre new role at Chaldea. Perhaps it's because, for once, he's not navigating the empty, superficial world he came from, but instead, has found a place where even his strange habits have purpose, where his routines give him a sense of structure in an unpredictable environment.
"Well," Gudako says, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that lingers in the air. "At least you're happy here. And, I mean, I guess if you want to design more business cards or keep up your intense routines, I won't stop you."
Patrick Bateman smiles—calm, collected, but somehow unsettling. "I am happy here, Gudako. It's been… good for me."
She nods, standing up from her desk. "Just remember, no killing people without permission. We're not in the 80s anymore, okay?"
Bateman gives a small nod, his expression unchanged. "Of course. You have my word. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure my workout for tomorrow is perfectly scheduled."
As he turns to leave, Gudako can't help but chuckle softly, shaking her head. "Weirdest Assassin-class servant ever," she mutters to herself, but despite it all, she knows that somehow, Chaldea feels a little more orderly with him around—even if it's in the strangest way possible.