Death might have been the best outcome for Nome.
Joey turned his head toward the crying baby, his thoughts stalling as confusion overtook him.
For no reason, a word surfaced in his mind: Cannibalism.
For the first time, he truly understood that saying about Transcendents.
They were people, but also walking piles of medicinal ingredients.
He had just reached for the Music Box on the ground when the sound of a door opening interrupted him. A young, playful voice followed:
"Oh! Found you, little fish!"
A pitch-black, old-fashioned door abruptly appeared on the ice.
The door slowly opened, and a petite figure stepped out.
She looked about four feet three inches tall and wore an entirely gothic outfit.
Her features were delicate, her skin slightly pale, lending her a sickly, aloof beauty.
Her eyes were deep, and the gentle flutter of her thick lashes added a touch of impish charm.
Her slightly curly golden hair was tied into twin ponytails with red ribbon bows.
Her crystal-studded puffed skirt was black, accented with a few red and white patterns.
Intricate lace and glittering sequins adorned her collar and cuffs. A fitted black bodice traced her slender waist, paired with a little velvet cape.
Her skirt swayed gently as she walked, her little leather boots clicking crisply against the ice with every step.
Holding a doll, she surveyed her surroundings curiously with large azure eyes.
A moment later, she planted both hands on her hips and puffed out her cheeks.
Wrinkling her dainty nose, she snorted. "Hey, you. Get over here."
Only then did Joey recover from his shock. Pointing at himself in bewilderment, he asked, "Are you talking to me?"
The moment he said it, he realized how pointless the question was. Who else was here?
He plastered on a cheerful