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Corin had a nightmare.
She sat upright in her bed, jolted awake by the occurrence of a rare but terrifying dream. It always began and ended the same — an operating table, a masked cackling doctor, and the promise to “put you back together.” She held on tightly to her stuffed bear, and inhaled its familiar scent to anchor her back to the present. Even though she knew she ought to try to go back to sleep, her senses were unfortunately alert. Whenever she had this problem, she would take several walks around the house, to use up what excess energy she had. That, along with the fear of waking someone up or finding a spider or running into an intruder, meant that Corin could make herself exhausted fairly quickly.
Corin tiptoed through the halls clutching her bear, careful to not let the wooden floorboards creak too loudly. It was past the witching hour, and surely the rest of the Victoria Housekeeping members were sound asleep. Ellen was practically impossible to wake up on accident, so Corin was more wary of accidentally disturbing Rina or Lyc—
The young girl stopped in place as her nose detected the faintest hint of something. At first it was unrecognizable, a smell that was foreign and unfamiliar to the house, but she quickly realized what it reminded her of. She would sometimes smell it when walking past the Lumina Square cafe at night, as adults sat outside on the terrace and chatted over coffee and lit cigarettes.
Someone was... smoking? Corin walked cautiously in the direction of the smell, which led her to the open doorway of the guest bedroom. Though it was unoccupied, it had a balcony, too small to be utilized but big enough to come in handy for personal reflections. Corin was no stranger to sometimes standing out there herself. She knew she couldn’t just run to her guardians whenever she felt the slightest bit overwhelmed.
She didn’t expect to see Lycaon out on the balcony, at this hour, hunched over the railing with a hand in his hair, while a cigarette burned in the other. There was a stool next to him that had a near-empty tumbler glass. The ice cubes slowly melted into the last sip of whatever golden liquid they were steeped in. A glass ashtray was placed on the stool as well. It looked only recently used; or maybe Lycaon just emptied it often.
Corin kept herself concealed in the hallway, only allowing herself to peek her eyes over the doorframe. Mr. Lycaon clearly seemed... stressed. Was it work-related? She understood he took on many responsibilities, but she found it hard to accept that this was how he dealt with stress. Lycaon often warned her and Ellen against relying on substances for productivity or emotional support — though for them, those warnings were targeted against coffee and energy drinks. Still, he made his point that there were healthier ways to deal with life’s troubles. It’s why Corin found it hard to look at the disheveled image of Victoria’s Housekeeping’s Leader. Her mentor, her guardian, and sometimes even a father.
Corin wondered if she ought to approach him. She had a valid reason for being awake, so she wasn’t worried about being reprimanded. If anything, she feared that her presence would become a burden. Another thing for him to worry about. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone, as adults sometimes do.
The girl’s inner monologue paused at the gentle but sudden movements that Lycaon made. His shoulders rose and fell slowly as he put the cigarette to his lips again, then tapped the underside of it against the ashtray. Corin’s heart sank when she heard the sound of a sharp and anguished sniffle. It was evident from the way Lycaon’s hand moved near his face that he was rubbing at the corner of his eye. Wiping away tears. He then turned as he reached for the tumbler glass, and made the unconscious choice to look through the balcony door into the guest room.
Corin missed her narrow window of time to move from his line of sight. She and Lycaon locked eyes instantly, but even though it was Corin who had technically been spying, Lycaon showed a surprising amount of guilt when he noticed her. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Corin knew there was no point in trying to run from him, and anyhow, it wasn’t like he was angry. It only made her more worried that he seemed to look... ashamed.
Lycaon quickly dug the half-used cigarette into the ashtray and swiped away at the air around him. As Corin stepped into the guest room, Lycaon opened the balcony door and stood to greet her. The light of the full moon shone behind him, and Corin could more clearly see the bloodshot sheen in his crimson eye.
“Uhm, S-Sorry Mr. Lycaon, for disturbing you.” She whispered her apology to him, still wary of making any noise that would rouse the other members from their sleep.
Lycaon didn’t meet her eyes, and instead sank his gaze into the floor beneath them.
“There’s no need—” his voice then cracked uncharacteristically. Lycaon cleared his throat, and tried to speak again with more of his usual cadence. “—No need to apologize, Corin. Rather, it should be me...” He closed his eye and sighed before finally bringing himself to look at the girl.
“I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state.”
His actions and words left Corin at a loss. It was usually her who could hardly stand to look someone in the eye, her who asked for forgiveness even in situations where it was unwarranted. For the shoe to be on the other foot, Lycaon’s foot... The same Lycaon who was always so reliable, so confident, so unfazed.
There he stood, slouched over with his head hung low. The white tee he wore was crumpled and untucked from his sweatpants, and his hair was unkempt from how much he’d been stressfully carding his hand through it. Corin put in effort to not be visibly off-put by the air of nicotine and alcohol that lingered around Lycaon. There was no doubt he smelled it too, and that it made him even more ashamed.
Corin looked towards the stool on the balcony, at the ashtray and tumbler glass, then back at Lycaon. Even though there was still a lot she didn’t understand, she at least knew that Lycaon would benefit from a distraction.
“I-I had a nightmare, and I couldn’t go back to sleep...” She purposely left out the part where the faint smell of a burning cigarette led her to the guest room.
Lycaon nodded thoughtfully as he looked at the clock hung on the wall. “I see, why don’t I make you some milk and honey then?”
Finally, the tension in Corin’s shoulders could relax. Lycaon was already back to sounding a bit like his usual self.
“Yes, please, I would like that.” She then padded out of the room ahead of Lycaon, to give him his privacy while he removed his things from the balcony.
A few minutes passed before Lycaon met Corin again in the kitchen. She had already laid out the ingredients he needed to prepare her drink — a gesture that made the corners of his mouth twitch up. She sat patiently on top of a nearby barstool and watched as the expert made his precise measurements into a saucepan: one and a quarter cups of milk, a pinch of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg, two drops of vanilla extract, and finally, one teaspoon of honey. With a silicone whisk, he quietly stirred the mixture over the stove until the milk began to boil, then poured it into Corin’s favorite teddy bear mug. After sprinkling another pinch of cinnamon atop the milk’s foam, Lycaon presented the girl with her late-night beverage. She reached over the counter and accepted it with a whispered “Thank you.”
Lycaon fetched himself a glass of water then sat next to Corin at the counter. They both sipped their drinks in silence, accompanied only by the ticks and tocks of the grandfather clock in the living room nearby. Corin thought long and hard in between each sip she took, something which seemed to catch Lycaon’s attention every time. Like he expected her to interrogate him about why he was also awake at this hour, and when he began smoking in secret, and what he was crying to himself about. His hackles would slightly raise everytime she took a pause, then lower when she instead went for another sip.
Once she was halfway done with her drink, Corin finally looked towards him and spoke up.
“Um, Mr. Lycaon...”
Lycaon scratched the surface of the counter with a nail. He quickly put forth his own question before Corin could.
“Is the drink to your liking?” He faced her with a forced smile, hoping his diversion and the look in his eye would be enough to convey to her.
Please, forget you ever saw anything.
Corin instinctively looked inside her mug, as if the answer to his question could be found in there.
“Are you okay?” she abruptly asked.
Even Lycaon was caught off guard with her choice of words. He expected curiosity. She could have asked a more specific question, about any of the specific things she saw, but she instead went with something so... full of concern.
“Sorry,” she impulsively followed-up with, “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just—”
“I’m fine, Corin.” Lycaon interrupted her with a solemn lie, his voice hoarse and weak. Pain gnawed at his chest as he looked away, refusing to accept the kindness offered by the young girl. Corin stared at him with a visible frown, wholly unconvinced, and surprisingly defiant. It wasn’t like her to press on about a subject, especially when Lycaon made multiple attempts to change it. Perhaps that’s how worried she was for him. Worried enough to force herself to be courageous and have this uncomfortable conversation with him. It made Lycaon feel all the more guilty to shut her down.
Neither of them drank from their cups for a few silent moments. Instead they both stared at the surface of the counter, both stuck wondering how to best handle the situation. It would be easy for Lycaon to retire for the night, to start the next day with a fresh face and a nonchalant attitude. But there was no guarantee that Corin would do the same. She could easily bring the subject up again whenever the time allowed it — or worse, try investigating for herself.
Lycaon tried to piece together what he could to form a brief but cohesive story. Those old memories were far too painful to look back on in their entirety, but he knew he could get away with leaving out key details. It’s not like Corin needed to know everything. He could just tell her about Jack, his passing, and how it affected Lycaon to this day. It wasn’t entirely a lie, he just couldn’t bring himself to talk to her about—
“Do you have a best friend?”
Her little voice sliced through the air next to his ears. Lycaon’s gaze widened as he froze, a chill seeping over his shoulders. He struggled to keep his voice composed as he responded.
“A... best friend?”
Corin proceeded like he didn’t just ask the most ridiculously pathetic question.
“I mean... e-everyone always relies on you... but who do you rely on, Mr. Lycaon? When you’re sad, when you’re upset? Until now, I thought... you might have h-had someone like that.”
Lycaon knew there was no point in lying. If he had a best friend, he would have mentioned him at least once before. Would have been heard talking to him on the phone. Would have already introduced him to the other members.
“No,” Lycaon finally admitted. “I... don’t have one. Not anymore.”
“Did you two have a fight?”
Lycaon held back an incredulous laugh at the precision of her questions. Oh well, perhaps it was for the better. At least he didn’t need to worry about spinning a story for her.
“Yes, we did. Then I left him.”
Even with his blunt and short answers, Lycaon found it difficult to whisper without it sounding like his voice could break at any moment. He downed the rest of his glass of water and hoped it would clear his throat enough to ignore the swell of tears that threatened him.
“Some nights, when the moon is full, I can’t help but reminisce. Hence... what you saw.”
Corin nodded her head in understanding. The light of the full moon weakened as early morning approached, but it was still visible in the sky from the kitchen window. She took the opportunity to drink from her mug as well, visibly ruminating on what question she should ask next. She parted and closed her lips a couple times before she settled on what she thought was the right idea.
“Do you... regret leaving him?”
Lycaon immediately glanced her way, with a look in his eye that made her flinch. It was as if she had just shot him.
“Y-You don’t... h-have to answer that...”
The girl was wrought with fear that her question may have upset him further, even though she had no idea what for. Meanwhile, in Lycaon’s mind, the chain reaction played out before him. If he had never left, if he never accepted the Mayor’s invitation...
“No, Corin. I could never bring myself to regret it.” Lycaon firmly gave his answer with a degree of assuredness that was more than what Corin had expected. He spoke about his decision like it was something sacred, something that had to have happened, even if it evidently brought him pain. Corin had no idea what it meant, but she was glad to find that Lycaon’s expression had softened. She replied with a nod of her head and a sheepish smile.
“I’m glad... Then, could I ask one more question?”
Lycaon seemed ironically reluctant, like he was fearful of the little girl and her inquisitive mind. Nonetheless, he took in a slow breath and tried to allow his shoulders to relax.
“One more, then we both retire to our rooms.”
Corin let out a yawn first, the effects of the warm drink already taking place.
“This old friend of yours... is he a bad person?”
Lycaon scrunched his eyebrows, confused. “What makes you ask that?”
“Ah well... It’s because I’m just having trouble understanding this... You left him and ended your friendship, so I assume he did something bad. But you still miss him? Then... is it not possible to settle your differences?”
Lycaon could see the logical dissatisfaction that Corin went through as she briefly rambled, and this time he let the incredulous laugh slip out. It’s amazing how much the intuition of children made adult matters seem so simple. So easy to resolve.
If you miss him, then why not make up with him?
As if Lycaon hadn’t already dreamt of that scenario countless times, almost every night.
He heaved a sigh as he fidgeted with the empty glass around his fingertips. “Unfortunately, it’s more complicated than that. Our differences were — are — irreconcilable.” Lycaon tried to make his exhaustion extra apparent as he rubbed his forehead, to politely dissuade the girl’s curiosity.
Corin’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh of her own. “Alright... I understand...” Her gentle and sleepy voice feigned acceptance, but Lycaon could tell that she was disappointed. It made a fleeting warmth blossom in his chest, to see that she had already taken such an interest in his personal life. It felt like the pain and despair he carried on his back for years had been chipped at, even though it meant that now Corin had to shoulder the piece that fell.
Lycaon wondered if this was something all parents had to go through. To allow yourself to confide in your children, and accept that your burdens will inevitably become theirs.
There was still much that Corin didn’t know, and Lycaon wondered if there would be a time again like this, where she would coax more of the truth from him. But at least now she knew. At least someone knew.
Lycaon once had a best friend.
~ ☾ ~
The next full moon, Lycaon found Corin already in the kitchen.
“I can’t fall asleep... could you please make me that drink again?”
Lycaon obliged, and made one for himself as well. The two of them enjoyed their beverages in a content silence, Corin drinking hers much more slowly than the previous time. Lycaon wondered if she did it on purpose.
By the time she went to bed, Lycaon no longer felt the need to go sit on the balcony.
~ ☾ ~
The next full moon, it happened again.
Corin swore it was a coincidence, but Lycaon had noticed how, that day, she took a longer afternoon nap than usual.
When he finished his milk, Lycaon suddenly spoke.
“His name was Hugo.”
It felt surreal to hear his name be spoken again, and with his adult voice. He struggled to say anything else afterwards.
Corin nodded thoughtfully as she held the warm mug in her hands. “Hugo...”
She now had a name for the ghost that loomed over Lycaon. The one that only she and him could see.
Lycaon felt another chip fall off his shoulder.
~ ☾ ~
“The ‘seed of evil’?” Corin looked up at Lycaon with a furrow in her brows. He wasn’t sure if she was confused or if she just thought it sounded ridiculous.
The corner of his mouth twitched when he spoke. “Yes, that’s what our late mentor had warned me of.”
Lycaon didn’t dare tell her of the night Hugo’s father died, but he did allow himself to fill in the little gap of knowledge she still had. The reason for why Lycaon chose to leave.
“I see...” Corin had been leaning over the counter with both arms folded, looking sleepy, but she sat upright as something came to mind.
“Oh, I just remembered an old bedtime story... One I used to really like.”
Lycaon raised a brow at her with piqued interest. “Well, now is a more opportune time than any to tell it.” His tail swished idly as Corin began to recount the tale in a stream-of-consciousness manner.
“It’s a short story but... There was a gardener who grew all kinds of flowers. One of these was a rose, and next to the rose, there grew a dandelion — a weed. The gardener would pull the weed out everytime it grew, but it always returned. What the gardener didn’t know was that the rose loved the weed, and every time it pulled the weed, the rose would cry over its spot and urge it to grow back.”
Lycaon put a hand to his chin as his brain drew unconscious connections. Corin seemed to as well, because her face suddenly turned a light shade of pink.
“W-Wait, I’m not trying to make any comparisons! Like, I don’t think the rose and the weed are...” She then put both her hands to her head as her whispers grew more panicked, “Ahh! I’m sorry if that story was weird, Mr. Lycaon! Please don’t read too deeply into it!”
Lycaon quietly chuckled to himself while his tail hit the legs of the stool he sat on. Usually Corin’s overreactions were unnecessary, but this time he was glad to have her distract him.
“I understand, it must be due to how similar ‘seed’ and ‘weed’ sound. So... how does the story end?”
Corin let out a groan before she continued, “Well, the ending is the reason why I don’t really like the story anymore... So, one day, after the weed was pulled from the garden again, the rose decided to put all its love into a single teardrop and make it magical. Then, when the weed grew back... it became a rose.”
Lycaon immediately scrunched his eyebrows. Corin nodded her head at his puzzled expression.
“Yeah, I don’t like it either... I guess the author wanted to give the rose and dandelion a happy ending, but did they not consider what kind of message kids could get from it? I mean, the rose already loved the weed, it didn’t need to change!”
The Thiren then smiled as Corin went on one of her rarely-seen rants.
“Ugh, when I was younger I didn’t even realize how bad it was! Then I re-visited the story, and I got so mad that I searched it up on inter-knot to see what others had to say about it. This one person wrote an alternate ending, and it was so much better!”
Lycaon courteously waved a hand, “Please, do tell.”
Corin’s eyes shined as she enthusiastically recounted the superior ending. “In this version, the magical teardrop from the rose did something different. Instead of changing the weed into a rose, it remained the same, but grew back even stronger! The gardener couldn’t pull it out or kill it, no matter how much they tried, so they decided to finally leave the weed alone—” Corin then let out a yawn as she finished the story, “Hmn —And it lived happily ever after with the rose...”
With an adoring smile, Lycaon reached out to lift her from her seat as he stood up.
“Indeed, I much prefer that ending.”
He brought Corin to her bed and tucked her in, then retreated to his own room. Out of curiosity, he went on his phone and searched for the same post Corin mentioned, the one that had the alternate ending. He read the entire story again, from start to finish, with a bittersweet taste in his mouth that left him aching.
The dandelion weed... the ‘seed of evil’...
For the first time after many years, Lycaon felt an inkling of doubt towards those words. Even under the blanket, and under his fur, his body froze at the idea that he had been wrong. That Jack had been wrong.
Lycaon shook his head and focused his vision on the phone screen in front of him. It’s just a children’s story. Even Corin insisted that any similarities were purely coincidental. Nonetheless, a sharp pang dug at Lycaon’s chest when he read the closing quote, signed by the author of the alternate ending.
Under scornful eyes, love is our only shield.
– V.B.
That night, Lycaon dreamt he was in a vast meadow of flowers. They stretched as far as the eye could see, but his gaze remained fixed on just one. It stood tall in the middle of the field — the most beautiful and resilient dandelion.