Onion Rings

The door to the dim bedroom creaked open again, and Old Whateley, who had been drifting off to sleep, stirred awake at the sound.

"How was it, Wilbur?" he asked.

"Lavinia got into trouble again!" Wilbur said angrily. "I knew I shouldn't have brought her along!"

"I think I smell onion rings," Old Whateley said, ignoring Wilbur's words. "Is that a paper bag of onion rings? Hurry, my dear grandson, bring them over and let me have a taste."

"Doctor Horton says you should eat less of those."

"Never mind him! He says that to every old man, and you've already brought them in."

Old Whateley gently placed an onion ring into his mouth.

He shook his head, picking up a second one as he said, "Not fried through, not crispy enough."

"Do you know what Lavinia did?" Wilbur pressed on with what had happened. "At the Miskatonic University library, she said she was afraid of her own son, that her family had many special secrets that couldn't be shared!"

"Did you take some onion rings to Hope? He loved these when he was little."

"She said it right in front of a librarian, someone she'd never met before."

Old Whateley didn't get the answer he wanted. He shook his head. "No one will care."

"If certain people hear it, there'll be big trouble! Someone might remember this, walk past without changing expression, and then go digging into who we are after we leave."

"There are indeed people in that university who like to do that, but no one will care, you can rest assured on that."

"But—"

"Enough of this, Wilbur." Old Whateley cut him off. "I've already said, no one will care. Have I ever lied to you?"

The old man smiled. "You'll understand later. The professors at Miskatonic University sometimes act like mad dogs, tracking down whatever they suspect.

"But that suspect won't be us. For that, I have dear Professor Armitage to thank. Now, tell me, did you share the onion rings with your brother?"

Wilbur was silent for a moment. "I had Lavinia take them."

"Did you put in enough? Lavinia will definitely sneak some."

"It was almost a full bag."

"Good." Old Whateley nodded.

He raised a hand to stop Wilbur from speaking further, signaling him to be quiet. "Lavinia's coming."

The door was shoved open violently, almost as rough as Robert.

Before she even reached Old Whateley's bedside, Lavinia began speaking. "Father, that thing came out of its room!"

She said "that thing," but the other two in the room knew exactly what she meant.

"Its room is getting a bit small." Old Whateley nodded.

"Now?" Wilbur asked urgently.

"No, not now. Hope told me. It sounds like someone died."

"Robert's dead," Old Whateley said. "I always knew he'd die from sticky fingers. It's good he went before me. Now I can meet his successor. When you're old, you like seeing new things."

"I'll go ask Hope." Wilbur stood up.

"Don't get too worked up," Old Whateley called after him. "Don't scare your brother. This is the first time Hope's seen it since he lost his memory. Make him a cup of coffee first, calm him down. He's probably terrified."

The canned peas were just ordinary salted peas, nothing special to eat—only saltiness and the faint fragrance of the peas themselves.

Price aside, this kind of thing was simple and monotonous, not like a normal family's lunch.

But then again, Lavinia probably couldn't cook, and Old Whateley was nearly dead, so the cooking fell to Wilbur.

And Wilbur was the type to like canned peas—just heat them up and they're done, quick and convenient, and never goes wrong.

But Hope, looking at the contents of the can, kept thinking of yesterday's vomit, which made eating a bit difficult.

The onion rings weren't bad—sweet and spicy, the frying taking away the onion's original pungency, leaving it palatable with a lingering aroma.

Just as Hope was about to praise Wilbur's cooking, he saw the red artistic lettering on the paper bag: Bob's Fast Food.

This meant Hope's first meal here was pre-made food and takeout.

A lunch utterly lacking in family warmth, yet perfectly fitting the Whateley family's character.

Well... maybe there was something different.

Hope picked up the glass on the table. The warm brown liquid inside gave off a faint aroma.

A proper pour-over coffee, brewed by a native Western farmer living in the twenties, as authentic as drinking fermented bean juice on some city street.

Hope took a sip full of anticipation... and it tasted like fermented bean juice too—a baffling rubbery flavor, like dark brown muddy water with a burnt taste.

He poured the contents of the cup into the toilet and flushed it away.

No sooner had he finished than footsteps sounded outside, and the towering Wilbur appeared at the door.

In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee.

"Did you sleep well?" Wilbur asked, taking the empty cup from Hope's hand and placing the fresh coffee back into it.

"Not bad, better than I imagined." Hope took another sip of the coffee in his hand, trying to find some hint of coffee fragrance beneath the rubbery taste.

In the end, he regretfully concluded that someone like him was only suited for pre-mixed instant coffee.

He slowly walked back to the bed and sat down, enduring the pain without revealing that his leg was injured.

"I want to know about Robert," Wilbur said. "Lavinia said he came here. I want to know how he got here and what he came for."

Hope told Wilbur almost everything that had happened, including Robert's suggestion that Hope kill Wilbur, his transformation into a Fishman, and how he was dismembered by the monster.

It was mostly the truth, only deliberately omitting the parts about Paul and Elizabeth, making it seem as though Hope had been the sole participant in the entire process.

"You're saying he accidentally cut himself with the ring?"

"I pushed him, and he lost his footing," Hope replied. "After he turned into a monster, he tried to kill me."

"And then that thing saved you."

"Saved me?" Hope asked, puzzled. This time the confusion wasn't feigned, because the Transparent Monster had looked like it was about to devour him: "I thought it was going to kill me."

"But you're still alive and well. It did save your life." Wilbur said. He asked no further questions, simply stood up and left.

Hope sank into thought:

Wilbur believes the Transparent Monster came out to save me... That does make logical sense, because before that, Robert really did look like he was about to kill me.

But after it killed Robert, it didn't leave on its own—it spread toward Paul... I deliberately glossed over that point in my conversation with Wilbur, saying the Transparent Monster left immediately after killing Robert, and Wilbur didn't show any suspicion. He thinks that's normal...

He thinks I won't become a target of the Transparent Monster... No, more accurately, he thinks the Transparent Monster will protect me.

Why?

Is this protection directed at me personally, or at all members of the Whateley family?