She… already used it. Does that mean ‘I used it before, and now it’s on cooldown’, or ‘I used it to try and find the answer to this subquest’? Hell, it could even mean ‘I used it to try and make us talking about the book less painful’. Those are differences that matter way, way too much. Gotta get as much clarification as I can before we do anything else.

  Because if ‘twist fate’ has shown me anything, it’s that skills don’t always do exactly what you want them to.

  “Hm. That could be a problem.” I rub my neck and look at the construct. “When did you use it?”

  “Right before you found the book.” Jumble says easily. “Not right before I guess, but… you know what I mean. I used it before everything that just happened.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Did it warn you about everything?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope; I didn’t even think that could happen, so I didn’t write anything about it. I’ll condense everything it said down to my interpretation; there’s nothing out of place in the hallway. All that’s in the bathroom is something to help us keep looking, and there’s another room somewhere in here that’s where we’ll find a way to finish this.”

  “That’s pretty all-inclusive.”

  “You’d think so, but not really.” Jumble sighs. “It really just tells us to look in all the rooms that aren’t the bathroom, to ignore the hallway, and that anything we find that doesn’t open up a secret room isn’t the last thing we’re looking for. Other than that, I pretty much don’t know anything. Hey, what made you look at the books anyway?”

  I step over and grab one of the books, then spin it around so the spine is facing me and the pages face Jumble. “They were all on the shelf like this; pages facing out.”

  A deep frown etches into Jumble’s face. “Who puts away their books like that? The spine’s designed to be seen, and it protects the pages from dust a little! You’d have to be a psycho to do something like that!”

  “Which is why it caught my eye.” I agree. “And apparently it wasn’t an anomaly, either, so whoever the quest based this on was a complete psycho. Or they were ashamed to show off the books on their shelf, but not ashamed enough to actually hide them.”

  “So they’re a coward.” Jumble states. “Either hide them or show them off with pride; don’t be all wishy-washy. That’s just pathetically sad.”

  “They could’ve just turned them around because company was coming over. Very judgy company.” I chuckle to myself while Jumble grumbles. “Before all this went down, I asked you two to look for a floor plan. Did you end up finding it?”

  Jumble raises an eyebrow for a second before recollection brightens her eyes. “Right, that! Yes, we found something–I was going to tell you, but then everything happened, and I kind of forgot. Here.”

  A piece of paper appears in her hand; folded into a square the size of a wallet and half as thick, slightly worn around the edges, and written on with ink that’s bled through a little. I accept it with a nod and unfold it a few times until I’m holding a blueprint of the living room. And nothing but the living room.

  “Table, seats, mentions of all the sheets with potential colour choices–it’s all here.” I turn to face the room to double check. Sure enough, nothing seems out of place at first glance. “Did you take a look at this yet?”

  Jumble leans in, making a conscious effort not to encroach on my personal space. “I did in the bedroom, but looking at it now… wow, they really didn’t stray from the plan at all. Except for the table.”

  The table? I squint down at the plan to try and see what Jumble’s getting at. Still nothing jumps out at me. It’s the same shape, has the same number of properly coloured sheets on it, and is in the same place in the room.

  “I can’t see any difference.” I hold the plan out for her. “What’s wrong with it?”

  She accepts the plan and holds it up like a roadmap. “See right here–on the plan, the table comes up to two-thirds of the bookcase’s height. But the real table is only half as tall, and that’s not the only difference. On the plan the table’s edges are rounded, but the real table has sharp corners.”

  I glance between the plan and the room multiple times just to be sure I’m seeing what she wants me to see. The height thing I’m not so sure about, since that could just be from the perspective of the plan, but the one on the plan definitely has rounded corners. It’s a difference, and if the construct told us about the plan, it has to be there for a reason.

  “Nice catch.” I say. “You stay here and keep looking at the plan. I’ll lift those sheets and see if there’s anything visibly different about the table itself.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jumble nods. “I won’t miss a thing!”

  Sounds of Euro rummaging through the bedroom filter out through the hall as I walk over to the table, crouch down, and rub my hand over one of the edges. Pointed material pokes my palm just hard enough to make me wince, confirming that there’s something under the edges. I bunch up some of the fabric in one hand and pull it back in one swift yank, exposing the table to the air. Jumble gasps before I can. Because there isn't a table under there.

  Hexagonal plates fit together loosely to form a latticework held in some kind of off-grey resin. The colours are so drab and same-y that they’re indistinguishable through the thin fabric, but exposed to the light it’s blatantly obvious what they are. The exact same plates I put my hand on to start the other subquest.

  “Hexagons.” I mutter to myself and lean down to check the legs. Which are a bunch of smaller hexagons in rectangular pillars of resin. “Even down here. What’s with this place and the hexagon motifs? Is there any reason for them at all?”

  “I don’t know.” Jumble says. “But this is definitely not the table that’s supposed to be here. Do you want to ask the construct, or can I?”

  I wave her on. She sends the map away with an excited noise, replacing it with her Class Card a second later. While she taps away at her messenger I reach up and nudge Pearl’s shell to get her opinion on everything.

  “Oh, I don’t have anything yet.” She says unhelpfully. “Something still feels off about Jumble, but I can’t tell if it’s something she just doesn’t want to say yet. Maybe I’ll feel better about it when we see Clutter again and she confronts Dani. Or maybe she won’t, and my hunch is right. Hopefully it isn’t.”

  Pearl’s got a hunch? That’s not a great sign for Jumble. Can’t say I completely disagree with Pearl here, though; I’m leaving a lot of trust in Jumble’s hands to actually tell us everything when the time is right. Really hope I don’t end up regretting that trust. For her sake.

  My Class Card pings. The construct snaps and crackles like a malfunctioning extension cord, its eyes open wide and mouth hanging open comically wide. Jumble squeaks and takes a step back in surprise, then turns to me with an expression that doesn’t know if it wants to be excited or confused.

  “I… did it?” She says slowly. “I don’t know how helpful it is, but I did it. Check your Class Card; it’s really weird this time.”

  Now that I can see; it’s exactly like the jar, but with… whatever that emotion is instead of a wound on the back. I pull out my Class Card and swipe over to the messenger, where a… weird message stares up at me.

  Key Information Found: Hexagons in Resin

  This information is extremely shocking.

  Use it carefully.

  ‘Extremely shocking’. A little on the nose, but then again, so was the wound. We’re definitely going to have to use this at some point, but for now, it’s just weird. But this isn’t the weird part. That’s right under it.

  (Question Recognized)

  Table. Table. Table. Table. Table. Table.

  This isn’t my table.

  Who put this here?

  Did I put it here?

  Where…

  Where am I?

  Chills roll down my back. That message is wrong. This is just supposed to be a subquest with a simulated room. Is… is the construct recognizing that it’s in a simulated room? Is that the endgame for the quest; getting it to admit that it isn’t real? Feels a little too on-the-nose with all the Jumble stuff. Ah, I’m probably just correlating that to this even though there’s no connection.

  Even still, this is progress. “Looks like the construct is recognizing something. Think there’s a hint in this message about anything else we need to find? …Jumble?”

  I look up from my Class Card, and she’s standing right next to the construct with an inquisitive frown. She gently reaches out and prods at its jaw, questing up until she pokes at its teeth as she hums to herself in thought. Some of them squish into the construct’s gums ever so slightly–almost like they aren’t connected to bone.

  “I think I found out why it–oh!” Jumble exclaims when she sees me watching. “U-um, some of the construct’s teeth press down like buttons. I think the question making it open wide like this was so we could prod around in its mouth.”

  “Mmhm. So what made you start poking?” I ask.

  Jumble wipes her fingers on her sleeves, then shrugs. “Curiosity, I guess? My skill didn’t say anything about this… so… um, give me a second.”

  She holds up her Class Card and frantically swipes through it. Pearl tilts her head to the side and grumbles something about how Jumble doesn’t sound like she’s lying while the paindne’s expression grows increasingly pinched. Colour rises into Jumble’s face as stares at her Class Card, her fingers finally still.

  “U-um, I may have misinterpreted a message my skill gave me. When it said ‘bone pressing’ I didn’t think it meant it literally.” She laughs bashfully and sends the card away. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen, please. If there’s something for this induced freeze, there must be something for the one with the jar. Or… both, maybe. Should we give it a try?”

  I see no reason not to. With a few taps I send the message to the construct in a bolt of magic, and a wound splits it in the exact same way as before. Unlike before, my Class Card chimes.

  (Questions Compounded)

  Pain.

  It hurts.

  I hurt.

  But… why does it hurt?

  I’m just a construct.

  So why does it hurt?!?