The Exorcist Doctor

Three days later, Gael found himself shopping around in the ‘Boutique’. Supposedly it was the highest of high-class luxury clothing stores in Bleakhearth, and it was pretty obvious from the get-go that it was true. Standing at three storeys tall in the heart of the ward, Boutique’s floors shone like polished bone, its rows of clothing stood in perfect alignment, and incense bottles hanging from chandeliers gushed out a light, gentle mist that smelled like pressed flowers and distilled oils.

At the Three-Faces’ request, the entire store had been cleared out for just the eight of them after closing hours in the middle of the night. They were the only ones here—except for about the dozen masked fashion clerks hovering around each of them, ready to assist them at a moment’s notice.

So all of them had split off into four pairs. Near the row of tailored coats, Cara handled Fergal, slapping new coats onto him one after another in rapid succession.

“Stand still,” Cara grumbled, tugging at the gangster boss who looked deeply uncomfortable being handled like a dress-up doll. “Can’t you tuck your spider arms a little more in? The dimensions don’t fit you here.”

“I can’t just retract them,” Fergal muttered back.

“Then we’ll find you a new coat that fits you.”

“Do we have to do this?”

“You’re going to a high-class event,” she shot back, stepping back to examine him up and down. “Gangster boss you may be, but you still have to look like someone who belongs there.”

“I don’t belong there.”

“Then at least look dangerous enough that nobody questions it. Here, try this one on.”

On the other side of the shop, near the row of teen fashion clothes, Liorin and Evelyn were engaged in a far less dignified battle

“This one!” Liorin said earnestly, holding up a brightly embroidered dress that shimmered like a ruby under chandelier light. “Very strong color! Very… alive!”

Evelyn stared at it distastefully. “You tryna get me killed? I ain’t wearin’ that. I walk into that place with this on, everyone’s gonna think I’m ‘entertainment’.”

“But it is beautiful! Red shows strength!

“Red shows you’re there for war,” she snapped, grabbing a darker, more fitted sapphire dress from a nearby rack. “Will you wear this into the ball?”

“Sure!”

“Not what you’re supposed to say.”

And at the far back of the shop, closer to the shuttered windowfronts, Jin and Vivi quietly moved through their section of more formal dresses and suits.

“This one might suit you,” Vivi said softly, lifting a fine black suit up towards Jin. “What do you think?”

Jin barely glanced at it. “It’s fine.”

“What about this one?”

“It’s okay.”

“How about this for me?” she said, picking up a plain white dress with a folded flower patterning. “White or gold?”

“... I like white.”

Vivi beamed. That was the happiest Gael had seen her in days, if not weeks, so if nothing else, at least someone was having fun picking out their clothes. For his part, Gael didn’t like the gaudiness of the place. He’d lost interest the moment he saw the exorbitant price tags, even though they could pay for everything they wanted.

It’s just not the same as ‘free of charge’, huh?

So while Maeve browsed the rows of forest-tone dresses before him—a small army of clerks helping her ‘color code’ or whatever—he laid down on his soft velvet cushion and stared up at his status interface.

“We’ve got about a thousand points each from all the Myrmurs we’ve been stealing off Jin’s haul,” he said idly. “Each tier four mutation costs five hundred points, so we can each unlock two we want.”

“What are the options?” Maeve replied idly.

He began reading off his interface.

[T4 Mutations | Oviclaws / Retractable Vespaclaws | Aggressive Vespascent / Defensive Vespascent | Basic Vespawings / Basic Vespawings | Abdomiflex / Basic Tarsagrip] 500P

[Oviclaws Brief Description: The Hunter’s claws can now directly inject the Hunter’s poisonous blood into the target. At base level, these claws are only ten percent as tough as the Hunter’s toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, their toughness will be the same as the Hunter’s toughness level]

[Retractable Vespaclaws Brief Description: The Host will develop sharp spikes over their normal nails, allowing them to extend and retract the spikes from their fingers. These spikes cannot inject anything. At base level, these spikes are only ten percent as tough as the Host’s toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their toughness. At max level, their toughness will be the same as the Host’s toughness level]

[Aggressive Vespascent Brief Description: The Hunter can consciously produce specialized pheromones that will aggressively attract Nightspawn. Subsequent levels will enhance the attraction.]

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

[Defensive Vespascent Brief Description: The Host will produce specialized pheromones that aggressively repels Nightspawn in addition to their natural killing pressure, completely preventing Nightspawn with less than thirty percent of their aura from actively attacking them. Subsequent levels will enhance the percentage. At max level, Nightspawn with less than fifty percent of their aura will completely refuse to attack]

[Basic Vespawings: The Hunter and Host will develop two pairs of hamuli-connected wings between their shoulder blades. These wings are incapable of long sustained flight, but are capable of sustained burst speed and mid-air redirection. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from using the wings]

[Abdomiflex Brief Description: The Hunter’s abdominal muscles will become significantly more flexible and muscular, permitting dynamic adjustments of their body posture. Subsequent levels in this mutation will boost the flexibility and range of muscular movement. At max level, the Hunter can twist all of their muscles a full half circle without any muscular damage]

[Basic Tarsagrip Brief Description: The Host will grow sharper nails, and the bone density in their hands and forearms will shift. Their grip strength will be twice that of their strength level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase their grip strength. At max level, their grip strength will be thrice that of their strength level]

Apart from ‘Basic Vespawing’, which was a tier four mutation they both shared in common, the other mutations differed quite a fair amount. Among them, there were two mutations that he instantly wanted to unlock, and he knew Maeve would want it too: ‘Aggressive Vespascent’ for her and ‘Defensive Vespascent’ for him.

“The Hunter’s role is to fight the Myrmur, so ‘Aggressive Vespascent’ seems just about right for me,” Maeve murmured, still checking out a new dress.

“And I’d rather not have to fight Myrmurs at all, so ‘Defensive Vespascent’ it is,” he agreed. “But then we still have about five hundred points left. You wanna unlock the wings already?”

“They’re the lame wings, aren’t they? We can’t really fly with them like Evelyn can with hers.”

“They’re still wings. It could come in handy when we need to glide down from somewhere high up.”

“I already have Mistrender for that. You get it if you want.”

“Well, I already have you with Mistrender to grab onto as well. Guess we’re not getting it now then,” he said, shrugging. “In that case, I know what I want.”

“And I know what I want.”

[T4 Mutation Unlocked: Oviclaws Lvl.2]

[T4 Mutation Unlocked: Aggressive Vespascent Lvl.2]

[Points: 1049 vBe → 41 vBe]

[T4 Mutation Unlocked: Defensive Vespascent Lvl.2]

[T4 Mutation Unlocked: Basic Tarsagrip Lvl.2]

[Points: 1022 vBe → 14 vBe]

“... I bet you picked ‘Oviclaws’ because you wanted a way to apply your toxic blood directly just in case you don’t have your Mistrender on hand,” Gael observed, grimacing as the bones in his hands started to ache and shift.

“And I bet you picked ‘Basic Tarsagrip’ because you can’t stand to lose in arm wrestling against me anymore,” Maeve shot back, shaking off the growing pain in her hands one by one.

“Guilty as charged. Are you done yet? Just pick a dress already and let’s get outta here.”

“You know, you should be picking out something as well,” she said, scowling at him as one hand settled on her hip while the other still held a length of green fabric. “Are you seriously planning to attend this ‘Endless Masquerade’ dressed exactly as you always do?

Gael didn’t even blink. He simply turned his head where he lay on the cushion, gesturing at his coat, his cane, and the top hat miraculously glued to his head.

“I mean, I’ll have everything cleaned. Should be good enough.”

“Good enough?”

“The dress code isn’t that strict. They only care about presentation, not conformity, so if a Raven dresses as a Raven does, who’d really give a shit? The Three-Faces would?”

Fergal heard that from across the shop, turning to Cara while thumbing back at him. “Gael speaks the truth. A gangster boss should dress as a gangster boss should, so—”

“Don’t talk when I’m sizing you up.”

“Sorry.”

Maeve’s scowl deepened, but before she could argue further, he’d already turned away, staring at another row of dresses down the aisle with casual disinterest.

“Those ones, maybe?” he suggested, pointing at the lighter fabrics with reinforced seams and cuts that seemed like they allowed more movement instead of restricting it. “Assuming we’ll be getting into a tussle at the Endless Masquerade, you’ll probably want something you can jump around in. You were never much for actually fluttery dresses anyways.”

Her brows knit together as she peered over her aisle, staring at what he was pointing at. “Oh. Those do look nice.”

So while she drifted over to the new aisle with her small army of fashion clerks offering even more suggestions, he rolled his head back over to face the one clerk standing beside him.

“Tickets,” he said. “Do we have them yet, or am I expected to charm my way in with raw, unfettered talent?”

The masked clerk stepped forward immediately, and without a word, he reached into the inner lining of his coat to retrieve a set of eight golden tickets. They shimmered like real gold under the lanternlight, embossed with intricate moth-like patterns that made Gael feel poorer just looking at them.

“The Master of Masks sends his regards,” the clerk said smoothly, “and a reminder along with these tickets: whatever happens within the Endless Masquerade, whether it be heaven falling or hell rising, the dance must continue.”

Gael’s grin widened. “Of course it must.”

And as he tucked the tickets into his own coat, Maeve started browsing her new aisle of dresses.

“What is this Endless Masquerade thing, anyways?” she mumbled to herself. “What are we actually dressing up for?”

Gael lolled his head back over to her with an even wider grin.

“How’s your dancing, dearest wife?”