Three floors beneath the first floor of the Hotel is the library. Like the rest of the Hotel, the library sports a muted but fiery color palette, and it is furnished after the era of mod. An infinite maze of shelves coats the walls and runs around the room. At the center of the maze are several organically-shaped tables, each holding a chunky computer and a teardrop-shaped lamp. The room breathes a dusty but sweet air that always smells familiar.
Juno inhales the scent and fidgets with his Sickle sheath, the belt of which squeezes his already suffocating bellhop uniform. After sitting at one of the tables and booting up a computer, he glances behind at the library’s elevator entrance, where Hal and Molly mutter to each other. Madame Muffinpie stands a few meters away from the two, adjusting the apron of her maid uniform. Todd stands less than a meter from her, sharpening his Sickle. Madame Muffinpie eyes him and shuffles closer to her manager.
Patting her subordinate’s back, Molly frowns. “Are you sure about this, Hal? I can catch the rogues myself, you know.”
Hal holds her shoulders. “I know, but would you really want to?”
“Uh, yes? You know I would. Wait a second, do you just not want to work in the S.O.S. office?”
“Do you want to work in the S.O.S. office?”
“Yes.”
Hal shudders so hard; he could make himself vomit ectoplasm. “That’s great, Molly. Good luck finding your lost maid with Mrs. Menopause.”
“Madame Muffinpie?”
“I always knew you had a sense of humor.” Hal grins a tusky grin, watching Molly and her nervous assistant enter the elevator then ascend.
After failing to parse his new coworkers’ conversation, Juno turns back to the computer. The desktop displays a measly three icons: “Recycle Bin,” “asdgahdfkgklesifhsj,” and “Internet Explorer.” Before Juno can turn to ask for help, Hal snatches his mouse, clicks on “asdgahdfkgklesifhsj,” and seamlessly navigates through thousands of folders until he reaches a document containing the rogues’ profiles. One of the profiles shows a tall, three-eyed woman wearing a bellhop uniform. Her shoulders cave inward and her long bangs fall over the eye on her forehead. This is Casey.
“There are three missing: a bellhop, a maid, and a concierge.” Hal points to Casey’s profile. “All we care about is my bellhop.”
Juno studies the profile, which states information like the girl’s species (Soren, a very devoted race), height (5’10.5), and registration date (a long time ago, who cares).
Juno purses his lips. “Could you tell me more about her personality? Anything that could make this search easier?”
Hal groans. “There’s nothing I could do to make this search easier than it is. She’s a bellhop. She won’t fight.”
Juno tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“Concierges are good at planning, maids are good at fighting, and bellhops are… full of potential.”
A hopeful smile tickles the human’s lips. “You mean to say that I’m—”
“Not even a little bit. I mean to say that bellhops are fodder. We’re extras. We don’t specialize, so Death makes us feel special.”
Juno drops his gaze to the floor and sighs. “Man, you really hate… everything. Why do you even still work here?”
Hal scrunches his eyes and sighs through his tusks. “Well, I can’t leave… And I need something to do.”
“You can’t do literally anything else? Do you secretly like this job? Do you hate yourself? When you were alive, did you have artistic passions that you knew were pipe dreams, but you still pursued them because, to you, having your own exhibitions and being your own boss meant more than being comfortable?”
“I’m going to walk so, so far away from you. Okay?”
“Absolutely, have a nice day.”
Hal disappears into the bookshelves, allowing Juno to continue perusing the profiles, the next of which shows a concierge man with glowing antennae and a matching, coiling tail. His species has no real native culture, not even a name. This is Clark. His impish grin grips Juno with a familiar dread, forcing him to scroll down. The final profile shows the lost maid, who is a bald, human man. His eyes are sharp and lizard-like, and his biceps stretch the poofy dress sleeves to exhaustion. This is Makron.
“Makron,” Juno echoes and begins to stand. “Makron, Casey… Clark. Makron, Casey, Clark. Makron, Casey— Ah!” A stern cyclops’ tusks meet Juno’s face, causing him to scream. “Hal!”
“Uh huh. Lovely seeing you too.” The cyclops’ voice lowers. “Anyway, I have a question for you.”
“Are you going to ask me if I know we’re in a library? Because haha, very funny.”
“No, no. You’re new here, right? So you don’t know anything.”
“As you like to remind me, Hal, yes.”
“But you’ve had the chance to talk extensively with Death, right? Have you ever touched his Scythe?”
“Huh? Ew.”
“God, grow up, I’m serious. It doesn’t work if you touch your Sickle, but if you hold Death’s Scythe with your bare hands…” The cyclops gets uncomfortably close.
“Uh huh…” Juno reaches for his Sickle, pretending to scratch his back. “W- well, Death forgot his Scythe when he first came for me, so I don’t really know much…”
“Forgot it? Oh! Right, that’s right, of course...” His golden eye quivers as he trails off.
“What do you mean, ‘of course’? What is going on with you right now?”
“I don’t know.” The cyclops brings his massive mitts to Juno’s shoulders. “I like you. I guess I like that you don’t know anything.”
Juno grips his Sickle. His voice crescendos. “And I guess I liked you more when you were farther away!”
In the distance behind Juno, behind several shelves, Hal hollers, “Wow, thank you! Also, you do know this is a library, right? Who are you talking to over there?”
Juno turns around to see his coworker still between shelves. His eyes widen then snap back to the creature clenching his shoulders. “I- I don’t know.” The small man freezes. “I don’t know anything.”
Before Juno can engage or scream, Todd slashes straight through the cyclops’ fat neck. The apparition dissipates and floods into the crow’s Sickle. Using his feathers, Todd shaves excess vapor off the blade, the glint of which reflects Clark, whose impish grin grows, but not with glee. A silent, sad aura surrounds the Sickle then fades. Juno clutches his chest, unable to move.
“SQUAWK!” Todd squawks.
Hal rushes towards them, stopping just beside the crow. “T- Todd! You found Clark? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to trouble you. I had no idea he was in here.”
“SQUAWK!” Todd hands Hal the loaded SIckle. Unlike the Scythe, each Sickle can only take one soul at a time.
“Of course, I’ll transfer him for you.”
“SQUAWK!”
“Huh? Clark didn’t seem… well? Hm… I suppose there must have been a reason they ran away.” Hal looks away. “...Did he say anything about Casey?”
“SQUAWK!”
“Right, right. We should warn Molly and Macaroni Macropicide.”
“...SQUAWK?”
“Bless you.” Hal follows Todd to the elevator, as he does, he turns his head to Juno, who straggles behind. “You coming, bud?”
“Huh?” Juno raises his hammering head. “Y- yeah.” He holds his Sickle closer to his chest and follows. The previous experience has not left him.
ns 172.70.174.106da2