The Grand Hall had been completely transformed.
Garlands of midnight blue and silver flame floated in the air, weaving themselves into intricate patterns between the tall obsidian pillars. The chandeliers—once dim and dusty—now shimmered with eldritch light, casting flickering shadows across the black marble floor. A long ceremonial carpet stretched down the center aisle, woven with glowing runes that shifted subtly underfoot, as if alive. Statues, long-forgotten stood along the walls, draped in fabric that shimmered like oil on water. It was both breathtaking and mildly ominous—very on-brand for Master and Lady Nozomi.
I stood at the entrance, blinking in awe. "Wow… It's so grand."
"Of course it has to be," came Lady Nozomi's voice from behind me like a whisper in a tomb. I jumped.
She stepped forward, hands folded neatly, expression unreadable. "It has been a long time since Master has taken a disciple."
"Yeah, 'cause they all died during the tests," I said bluntly.
From the far end of the hall, Master approached with purposeful steps, robes billowing despite the lack of wind.
"There you are, Llyne," she said. "There's something I need you to do."
I eyed him warily. "I hope it's not something like… sacrificing my life or anything."
"Dilly-dally any longer," she replied coolly, "and it will be."
I snapped my mouth shut and obediently trailed after her Lady Nozomi fell into step behind us, silent as a shadow.
We were all gathered in Master's room, a cozy yet peculiar space cluttered with scrolls, strange trinkets, and jars filled with suspicious glowing things. A kettle bubbled in the corner with something that smelled halfway between tea and mild poison.
Master leaned back in her chair with a satisfied nod. "Congratulations. I knew you could do it."
Lady Nozomi raised an eyebrow. "But Master, you said she couldn't—"
Before she could finish, Master promptly stuffed her mouth with a rice ball.
"You must be famished," she said, turning to me with a grin that was somehow both warm and threatening. "Here, eat. You've earned it."
"Thanks, Master," I said, accepting the food cautiously. Poison or not, it tasted amazing.
Once I finished eating—and had confirmed I was still alive—Master clapped her hands.
"Now, before your official inauguration ceremony, we must choose a new name for you."
I blinked. "Do we have to?"
"Yes," she replied firmly. "It's a symbolic act. Like forgetting your past and embracing a new life."
'Reborn kinda thing, huh?' I thought, chewing on the idea.
"I see," I said aloud. "But I like my name."
"It's tradition," Master said, with all the finality of a guillotine. "Every new disciple to the Scorpion must receive a new name from their Master. Only then are they officially recognized. So stop talking and listen."
Lady Nozomi leaned over to whisper in my ear, voice low and dry. "Actually… you can keep your name. Master just keeps forgetting it because she was convinced you wouldn't survive the trials. FYI: I've been the one reminding her this whole time."
I chuckled under my breath. "Ha ha…"
Master glanced at me suspiciously. "What was that?"
"Nothing! Deeply honored. Very serious about tradition," I said quickly.
Lady Nozomi gave me a knowing smirk, chewing silently on the rest of her rice ball.
Then Master clapped her hands again, her expression alight with manic excitement. "I've just thought of a brilliant name for you!"
I braced myself.
"What about… Skuffy?"
I stared. "What?"
"No? Hm. All right then—how about Moldy? Szarnor? Skitcheh? Luentiz?"
I leaned sideways and whispered to Lady Nozomi, "Is she chanting some weird forbidden language?"
Lady Nozomi shook her head solemnly. "No. Those are your potential names."
"…What?"
"She named me this way too," she said. "You're not special."
"Oxqig? Phybij? Wellamaniarettic?" Master rattled off like she was casting a curse. "Oh! I know! Voxmirfud!"
I groaned. "I think you've already used every letter of the alphabet in an attempt to name me."
Lady Nozomi raised an eyebrow. "You should count yourself lucky she hasn't tried to combine all twenty-six into a single name yet."
I slumped. "Ouuuiiiiiii…"
I looked back at Master desperately. "Master? Don't you… I don't know… have any children naming books?"
Without missing a beat, Lady Nozomi reached into her sleeve and handed Master a worn-out baby naming book.
I blinked. "You've had that the whole time?"
Lady Nozomi smiled sweetly. "Of course. But if I gave it to her earlier, you wouldn't have had the pleasure of experiencing the pain I went through when she named me."
She turned her head slightly, revealing the faintest twitch in her left eye. Then she grinned, utterly unapologetic.
I felt a chill. "Thanks… I guess."
Master, already flipping through the book, frowned. "All these names are so boring. Where's the spice? Where's the chaos?"
Then her eyes lit up. "This is it. Nali. Hyun Nali."
I blinked. "Where?"
She tilted her head. "Hmm?"
"Nothing," I said quickly.
Lady Nozomi, ever the smooth diplomat, gave an approving nod. "That's a wonderful name, Master."
Master looked genuinely pleased. "I think so too. What about you, Nali?"
I hesitated, tasting the name on my tongue. "Hyun would be fine. Easier to say."
"Alright then," Master said with finality, a rare softness in her voice. "Hyun it is."
And just like that, I was no longer Llyne.
We celebrated the naming in true Scorpion fashion—mismatched cups, oddly glowing drinks, and suspiciously sentient cake—but it didn't matter.
From that moment on, I was Hyun Nali.
A new name for a new beginning.
Except, it didn't feel like a new beginning.
Not when Master and Lady Nozomi continued to torture me daily with pill grinding, potion brewing, and the occasional soul-crushing stare.
What a hard life.
Over the next few days, gifts began pouring into the House of Aum—boxes upon boxes wrapped in strange fabrics, tied with charms and ribbons that glittered, glowed, or, in one case, quietly giggled.
On my way to the entrance, I spotted Lady Nozomi off to the side, holding a thick leather-bound logbook and a long brush pen. Her expression was unreadable, but the sharp click of her tongue every few seconds echoed like thunder down the corridor.
That was her way of expressing disapproval. You could hear it from miles away.
As I turned the corner to the main entrance, I came to an abrupt halt.
Piles of offerings towered like miniature mountains—gilded boxes, enchanted artifacts, exotic fruits, and more bottles of mysterious liquid that I've learnt never to touch. I blinked several times.
"…Are all these for me?" I murmured, dazed.
"No. For me," came the dry voice from behind.
I turned to find Master standing with arms folded, expression unimpressed.
"What?" I asked, blinking.
She shot me a sideways glance. "Whatever I own is mine. And whatever you own… is forever mine."
I gawked. "That's not fair."
Master raised an eyebrow. "Where are we?"
I straightened. "Master. I may be lost all the time, but I definitely know where I am."
She whipped out her fan and covered the lower half of her face. I caught the faintest glint of amusement in her eyes.
"Good. Because if you don't, I'll be sending you to Master Asha."
A chill ran down my spine. "Anywhere but there, please."
She turned her attention back to the gifts, expression bored.
"None of these are useful," she muttered, poking a jewel-encrusted box with her fan. Then her eyes lit up briefly. "Except the wine."
With practiced grace, she plucked a dark bottle from the pile—labelled House of Vodka, Imperial Reserve. She cradled it like a beloved relic.
Then a thought struck me. "Master."
"What?" she replied, still admiring the bottle.
"Last time, you asked me to deliver a wine to Miss Judy, remember?"
"I'm surprised you can remember something."
I grinned, puffing up with pride. "Then you'll be even more surprised when you realize just how much I actually remember."
She gave me a long, deadpan stare. "Back to the topic."
"Right, right. So… when did we start brewing our own wine?"
Master closed her eyes and nodded slowly, as if I'd just confirmed her worst suspicions. "Ah… I understand now."
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"Due to the tragic lack of brain cells in your head, your ignorance is, sadly, understandable."
I stiffened. 'Wait—what? Did I piss her off again? When did that happen?!'
Master raised an eyebrow. "Do you think the House of Aum only grinds pills and brews potions?"
"…We don't?"
She looked at me as if I had just insulted three generations of her ancestors. "Of course not. Poison exists in many forms. Pills. Potions. Powders. But also—" she gestured with her fan, "—in consumables. Human beings, in their infinite idiocy, even ingest poison for enjoyment."
"To kill someone?" I asked.
"That… and for pleasure."
"…Pleasure? You mean they like being tortured?"
Master gave me the sort of look that suggested she was the one currently being tortured—by my mere existence.
"Alcohol," she said with forced patience. "It's a controlled poison. Intoxication is simply the body's response to mild poisoning. Depending on the dose, it can kill."
"Oh," I said. "I see now…"
There was a long pause.