Simon needed some much-deserved rest. But in his current situation, he could not for the life of him.
With his core only at the Fragmented sub-stage, he was at a permanent disadvantage. So, after he left the infirmary, Simon went home immediately. Only when he entered the house could he finally exhale in relief.
Simon felt as if Alina was the biggest threat to him for the moment. After all, she was direct yet vague.
There was no way for him to assure himself of what her cognition of his "side" was. He rushed to the bathroom, pulling his gloves off.
He conducted a careful search for them — Alina might have been listening somehow. Thankfully, he found nothing. Not a wire, not a bug, nothing but cloth and Boron.
"Simon, get your ass in here and come eat!"
"One moment, Naomi!"
He tore open the glove, knowing it would regenerate. Simon expected to find something inside, anything, whether it be a tracker or a camera.
As the glove ripped open, a singular message was written inside it.
"I spent a long time crafting this from scratch, Simon. You don't trust me?"
"Tch."
Simon tore the next one, but was only met with the same thing.
"If you don't trust me, just ask me."
(Like hell I will!)
The gloves regenerated, and the synthetic leather in the sink turned into water. Simon watched it go down the drain, swiftly hiding the evidence of his frustration.
He wanted to punch the mirror in front of him, but he contained himself with a heavy inhale. Simon tossed the gloves onto a rack for the time being.
He walked out of the bathroom and met with the familiar halls of his house. These comforting halls had dozens of family photos, from when he was five until he graduated from the academy.
Each image showed a significant boost in his age. Simon hated taking photos, so there was less than what would be considered normal.
He entered the kitchen, the smell of soul food slamming into his nose. Simon sat down at the table, looking up at Naomi.
She had aged like fine wine. Her hair was far more voluptuous, not to mention her curves. But most importantly, there was an aura of warmth around her.
This familiarity was a comfort for him.
She shifted her gaze away from the plates she was making to focus on Simon for a few seconds. After this, she continued plating the food.
It consisted of catfish, mac and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread.
"So, how was work? Or just more paperwork?"
"It was... Something. You know how the Hollow World can be sometimes."
Naomi fully understood his need not put it into words. After working at the bureau for so long, she knew some things could not be explained with mere sounds from the mouth.
Simon immediately dug into the cornbread as his plate hit the table without a second thought. Naomi slapped his hand, taking it away from him.
"Eat the rest of your food before dessert. You're not a child anymore, I shouldn't have to tell you that."
She looked as if she might slap him across the face if he failed to comply... Naturally, he did.
Naomi was the only mother figure he ever had; even if he was a grown man now, he still obeyed her. He cherished her deeply, more than he dared to admit.
"Ahem. Now, Simon, try your best to describe what happened."
Simon was still trying to figure out what exactly happened with the Earth Scale Eels, but it wasn't like he planned to mention them.
This was an everyday routine; Naomi would listen to the efforts he put in while he was away. It was a time for Naomi to give advice, and for Simon to let out his thoughts.
When she heard that his team had tried to fight the royal, she began to scold him. Simon tried his hardest to explain that he didn't want to, but she did not listen.
"So what? If you knew it was a horrible idea, why didn't you try to get them to fuck off?"
"I did try, they didn't listen."
"Try harder!"
The more they talked, the more Simon understood what she was trying to get across. It did not matter if they did not listen to him; it's better to outright refuse than to get yourself killed.
Who would want to see their child die? Naomi was not blood-related to him, but that didn't matter.
Whether it be a biological mother or not, a woman's love for her children does not falter. So he listened. Every word that came from her mouth, he took note of.
"Sigh, I can't believe you, Simon. You've only been an officer for a month, and you're already trying to get yourself killed."
"Maybe you're right. I should've made them listen to me one way or another."
Simon had lost his appetite at this point, picking at his food. He finished what he could, not wanting to be rude.
Naomi noticed this, but did not say anything about it.
"Seriously, you and that man are the same."
"...You say that every day."
It was true, however. No matter what it was, walking, talking, his looks, or down to the way he chewed, he resembled Johnathan in Naomi's eyes.
"Alright, I need to focus on refining my core."
"Okay. I love you, Simon."
"Love you too."
With that, Simon walked out of the dining room and into his room. The room had little to no personality to it.
Everything that was there was either taken from the bureau or items he found useful. There was a desk, a bookshelf, a box of files, and a bed in the center.
Simon took a seat in the middle of the bed, his legs crossed. With a heavy exhale, he looked down into his core, seeing it in large fragments.
Moss-green ropes held them together, but they were still very far apart and dim. Refining the core was very dangerous, especially with Simon's method. He emptied as much spiritual energy as he could.
His body felt weak, as spiritual energy was one's life force. Essentially, he was temporarily killing himself. After this, he quickly took an influx of energy from his surroundings and poured it into these strings.
Lavender particles covered them until they coated a thick aura around the ropes.
He began to pull these fragments of his core together slowly.
It was extremely difficult as he needed to both pull the strings and gather energy to keep up with the amount used. It was even harder after five minutes when his own spiritual energy began to replenish.
He had to distinguish his own energy from the pure energy of the surroundings around him. If not, his body would not be able to handle it — causing him to refuse to exist.
The ropes at first were as hard as steel, but as time went on, they began to soften. On his left side, two small chunks of the core had been pieced together.
The black dice began to orbit around the ropes, finding the brightest area.
Once they found it, they planted themselves inside of it, becoming a miniature version of Simon.
It waved at him, before crossing the fragment of his core and beginning to tug another rope towards itself. He had let himself get distracted with this, causing him to forget about his own spiritual energy needing to leave his body.
Simon quickly stopped it, but a sharp pain took over his chest. He decided to stop for the day, not wanting to hurt himself any further than he already had.