The door to Seele's apartment creaked open with a reluctant hiss, as if the hinges were tired of the cold. Using a key he had stolen through his exceptionally useful ability to step into the shadows, Sunny easily opened the locked door.
Sunny stood in the narrow hallway, dressed in his ridiculous detective coat — long, dark, and dramatically frayed at the bottom like he tore it up for extra effect. His hands were shoved in his pockets. His collar was turned up. He was here to solve mysteries.
His expression said that he was deeply amused by how stupid everyone else is.
Without knocking, his voice pitched low and gravelly like a washed-up noir protagonist, he said:
"Seele. It's time."
From inside, a crash. Something hit the floor.
"I'm not dressed, you creep!"
Sunny stepped inside anyway, boots echoing on the cracked tile. He looked around Seele's cramped apartment with a half-smile. Faint smell of old coal, metal dust, and canned soup. The furniture was mismatched. The ceiling leaked steam. A cracked photo sat on the windowsill — her and a girl with gray hair. He scoffed.
'So everyone that isn't me gets a picture? I didn't want one anyways!'
He absentmindedly eyed the dust on the bookshelves. Veliona was never getting those scandalous books back.
"Dressed or not, it's nothing I haven't seen before. Besides, time waits for no one. Especially not the ignorant."
Sunny was starting to enjoy the sound of his own voice.
"Did you… seriously break into my house?"
As Seele stepped into the living room with still wet hair, he sent her a lopsided grin.
"What? No! You don't have a house, silly! Instead, you have this rundown apartment. Poor!"
She glared at him. At least he knew she was awake.
He turned away from her, summoned out the Vessel of Remembrance, and flipped to his notes — not for his memory, but so that he could clearly explain to those with an inferior intellect.
"I'm here on business. Real detective business. Shadow detective business—"
"Get to the point before I kick you out."
Sunny coolly brushed her off.
"Historical crime. Mythological fraud. Do you know the punishment for a human pretending to be a god?"
He gave her a few moments to answer… she didn't. He narrowed his eyes.
"Well?"
Seele shrugged.
"I'm not a schoolteacher. I didn't even finish all the standard readings."
Sunny had absolutely no idea what a 'standard reading' was, but he could make some guesses.
"No, but you are an Underworld native, and that makes you... marginally less useless."
She squinted at him.
"Do you want me to hit you?"
Sunny spoke without thinking:
"Depends on the context. Anyways, check this out."
Ignoring Seele's stupefied expression, he practically shoved his infinitely-expanding notebook into her face. There were plenty of scribbles and timelines that he created when forging his theories. Pretty incomprehensible to the average pedestrian.
"This Jarilo fellow — no, not the planet — was worshipped by your ancestors. No, they aren't watching over you. Supposedly, one of the military groups that used to exist on this planet got lucky when spring came early, which removes the problem of the cold. What's unusual is that they worshipped anything at all, considering that they must have had Awakened among them. It's pretty hard to believe in something you can't see when there's people throwing fireballs in front of you."
Seele had a blank expression as Sunny quickly explained the premise of his visit.
"…What's the point?"
He deadpanned.
"The point, Seele, is that whatever they believed in had to be real! My humbly extravagant theory is that a Saint was pretending to be a god to these poor, ignorant souls."
She hesitated, then gave another shrug.
"Even if that's true, who cares? They're dead, right?"
Sunny turned to her, something sharper behind his smile now. Something thin and edged.
"Seele, history only matters when it's dangerous. And nothing is more dangerous than a forgotten god who might've simply changed names. Plus, do you know how long Saints live? Longer than your poverty-ridden bloodline, I'd bet."
She blinked at him. He was too close now. She could see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, layered over something... colder.
She sighed.
"You're insane."
He beamed.
"And you're my assistant."
"What?"
He was already walking toward the door.
"We're going out. Interrogations, and if we don't find anything, a trip outside the walls! You're the Watson to my Holmes. The dog to my genius. The feet to my... elevated sense of truth."
"I'm not following you into more creepy ruins because you got obsessed with poetry and conspiracy theories!"
Sunny turned, stared at her for a moment, then cheekily smirked.
"You are. Because you're curious. Because you owe me. And because you like me."
Seele choked.
"Wha— I don't—!"
He winked, then pulled out a trench coat from who-knows-where. He tossed it back to her without looking.
"Just so you know, I like myself more than you like me. Let's go, Watson."
And with a stylish vault over the rusty railings, he disappeared into the steamy underpass of Belobog's lowest streets, boots tapping against steel.
Seele cursed loudly, grabbed her coat, and stormed after him.
She didn't know what he was after.
He did.
'The first step of colonization is to be aware of the threats within the colony.'