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To put it kindly, Ubel is the most eccentric woman Land has ever met.
He could tell from the moment he laid his eyes on her. She doesn’t care to conceal it, there’s no attempt at masking it, no intention to mirror the behaviors of those around her so she can blend and disappear among the crowd.
Ubel is openly and proudly bizarre, off-puttingly so. She reeks of death, of wickedness and malice and every immoral thing that his brain can conjure. Every time he’s around her, he can’t help but feel on edge; anxiously ridden with premonitions of impending doom.
He’s convinced, with utmost certainty, that her presence can only bring him closer to his demise. Therefore, she should be avoided at all costs.
And he has tried. Unsuccessfully, but he has tried.
“Must you be this loud?” he asks, setting his cutlery on his now empty plate. He watches her as she continues to gleefully chew a piece of something that can’t be anything but a mediocre fillet made from meat of dubious origin.
They’re at a common, unexceptional tavern they picked on a whim on their way to the imperial capital for their mission, but the way she’s savoring her meal would fool you into thinking they’re dining at a royal palace.
Every time she takes a bite, she delightedly moans as if it’s the first time she has eaten in days. Not loud enough to be noticed by the other customers sitting at nearby tables, but enough to grind his nerves. She’s been talking non-stop since they left his hometown and he was hoping he’d granted a brief moment of peace and quiet if she had her mouth stuffed with food.
He was wrong.
“Oh?” She smiles, trying to feign ignorance, acting like it wasn’t on purpose. “How inconsiderate of me, I didn’t realize I was being so loud. Please, excuse me.”
“Just hurry up and finish.”
“Why?” She cuts another piece of her meat fillet, its center still a pale red. “Are we in a rush?”
“We are.” He reclines back on his chair slightly, back pressed against wood. “Or have you forgotten already why we’re here? This isn’t a leisure trip.”
“I know that.” She concedes. “But it’s not time for that yet, is it? We’re free tonight.”
He halfheartedly glances at the space around them. The place isn’t brimming with customers but it’s not a slow night either, with only a couple of empty tables waiting to be taken. It’s noisy, the way taverns always are, swallowed by the constant, distinctive murmur made out of conversations being had, plates being laid, chairs being pulled and food being cooked.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced it in person.
“I was hoping we could go on a walk.” She’s fidgeting with her fork, food still on her plate. “I think there’s a full moon tonight, isn’t that nice? It’s quite romantic. Let’s walk around and have a chat.”
“You’ve done enough talking already.”
“But you haven’t. We should change that.”
“Ubel.”
“Tell me about your grandmother.” She asks, not for the first time. “I want to know what kind of person she was. Do you miss her?”
He lets out a tired sigh. Ubel is truly a relentless, stubborn woman. Her interest in his life hadn’t faltered in the slightest since their time at Aüberst. Luckily, once the exam was finished and he was granted his certification, he dispelled his clones and she had no way to track where the real him was.
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Ask away.”
“Why do you want my spell?”
She scoffs. “Why wouldn’t I?” She starts playing with the ends of her hair, twirling her fingers between the strands. “It’s a great spell, I’d say. Are you feeling self-deprecating? Is this your way of asking for reassurance?”
“Is that your honest opinion?” He leans forward, pressing his elbows against the wooden table. “It’s an intricate spell that took me years to polish so I could use it properly. I’ve cast it countless times, more than any other spell.”
“So?”
“It’s advantageous, for me. Not for you.”
She smiles. “How come?”
“I make perfect copies of myself, down to every detail. Not just how I look like but also what I sound like, what I smell like, what I feel like.” He pauses. “They aren’t made of skin and bone but they must be able to deceive you into thinking they are. It’s a difficult thing to achieve, but I gather you know that already. It’s not easy or practical, but rather slow and consuming.”
“Your point being?”
“I don’t know you well, Ubel, we’re essentially strangers. But I’ve spent enough time around you that I can confidently say you’re not the type of person who likes to sit around and wait for the perfect moment to strike. You don’t play it safe; you’re too impulsive and eager to get your hands bloody.”
“Wow,” she licks the grease off her shiny lips, “to think I ever assumed you were indifferent towards me. Seems like you’ve been observing me as much as I’ve been observing you.”
“Hardly.” he retorts, “You’re just painfully obvious.”
“And you’re painfully reserved. Feeling quite talkative today, though.”
“I just don’t understand,” he continues, “why me? You must have met other first-class mages with spells far more suitable for you. As you said, I’m reserved, so I do not intend to divulge any more information about my life. Aren’t you wasting your time with me? It comes off as a poor investment.” Pause. “Unless you’re after something else.”
He looks up and meets her gaze, hoping her expression might give away something worth dissecting, but all he can find is amusement. She breaks into loud, airy laughter as if he had told her the funniest thing she has ever heard.
She takes a handkerchief and softly wipes her mouth with it. Her plate is now empty.
“You’re not very popular with women, are you?” She’s beaming at him, smug as ever. “Never had a girlfriend, I assume. You know, I walked around your hometown for a bit before knocking on your door, wanting to see what kind of place you lived in. I saw some girls, lovely girls, nice and soft and plain and boring, and for a moment, I worried you could be in love with one of them. It would explain why you only sent the doppelgangers out while the real you stayed behind.”
He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Ubel-”
“How silly of me, right? You’re boring and you’re rude; a hermit that never leaves the house and won’t speak to anyone unless strictly necessary. Even small-town girls have standards.” She rests her chin on her open palm, head tilted to the side. “Don’t you ever get lonely? Or at least tired of just using your hand?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I already told you, Four Eyes. You know what I’m after.”
“You want my spell.”
“I want your spell, and I want you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re a smart guy. Think.”
Her tone is filled with exasperation and he can’t help but scoff at it. She acts as if she is the most transparent person on earth, an open book that anyone can read as long as they get close enough to make out the letters.
She’s as untrustworthy as they come, obscured by mystery and promise of secret schemes. The question isn’t whether she wants him or not, it’s about how dangerous her intentions are. The hunger in her eyes flickers so intensely as if he’s nothing but a helpless mouse at the mercy of a hungry housecat.
If he’s lucky, her plan could consist of stealing his spell, nothing more. Or, perhaps, it could include cutting him open so she can wear his skin as a winter coat and use his bones to stir her tea. He can’t tell which one is more likely. She might as well be planning to do both.
Ironic, isn’t it? Despite his better judgment, he agreed to take on this mission alongside her and hasn’t backed down on this decision. Not a trace of doubt or hesitation or regret plaguing his body.
The truth is that he doesn’t dislike Ubel. There’s something about the way she looks at him, truly looks at him, as though everyone else in the room is nothing but muffled noises and opaque colors and blurred lines. As if he’s the only thing worth looking at, the only thing that’s bright and clear and whole.
He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s oddly pleasant.
The waiter, a young woman with ginger hair tied back in a tight bun and freckles spreading across her pale nose and cheeks, approaches their table and takes their empty plates and cutlery away.
“Anything else?” The waiter asks, her voice an octave lower than you’d expect. “More beer?”
“No.” He’s holding Ubel’s gaze across the table. “We’re done.”
He buries his left hand deep in his pockets and takes out a few coins- enough to pay for their meals and a little more. He hands it to the waiter, who promptly takes it and scurries away after thanking him for his patronage.
“You paid for my dinner too.” She points out, as soon as the waiter walks away. “If I had known this was a date I would’ve worn something nicer.”
He ignores that. “I don’t understand you at all.”
She shrugs, unbothered. “All you need to understand is that you’re stuck with me, Four Eyes, whether you like it or not. I’m not going away anytime soon, so you better get used to it and stop worrying your pretty little head with useless questions.”
She purses her lips and glances around the room. Her fingers drum against the table, “I assume we aren’t getting dessert, so, shall we go?”
He can’t back down now, can he? She’s right, he’s stuck with her, for better or for worse.
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s go.”