Chapter Text

The blue fairy told him he needed to save Krat. 

Krat was new and unfamiliar. He’d never seen how it looked back in its prime, but he could see the echoes of it—in signs splattered with blood and oil, in ruined, abandoned—but not empty—homes. Krat used to be beautiful, the puppet knew, but right now, all he could see was chaos and destruction. Loss, pain, and death, all around him, puppet and human alike. 

He’d gone through quite a bit to get where he was now, warmly nestled in front of a lit fireplace in a beautiful hotel, and it was… comforting to be here. First, he had to fight his way through a train station filled with killer puppets, then he fought his way through the streets of downtown Krat to kill a giant parade master puppet guarding the entrance to the hotel. That had been a trial to get through, but the puppet wasn’t tenacious for nothing. 

Well, he had no choice in the matter, he supposed.

When he arrived safely at the hotel, he was informed by the blue fairy—Sophia, she said her name was—that he had a father. A man named Geppetto, who needed his help to save him from whatever trouble he got himself into in Elysion Boulevard. 

So off the puppet went, a good boy in a sweet naval-inspired uniform handed to him by the kind, elegant woman in the wheelchair—Lady Antonia, the owner of Hotel Krat—who spoke with a tender softness that, if the puppet had to describe it, sounded almost motherly in nature.

Antonia was very gentle with him, and the wistfulness in her eyes when he put on the clothes she gave him and showed it off to her made the springs tighten oddly in the puppet’s heart. He wondered why, and who it was she had trailed off about. 

You looked just like…

The puppet had never existed before today, and yet somehow, he looked like someone. It was confusing, but intriguing all at once. 

Donning the blue sailor outfit, the puppet headed to the Alchemists’ Bridge to save his father, and as he stood there, contemplating the sensation of red, quickly-cooling wetness on his synthetic skin, his father finally saw him. 

A dream come true, he’d said. The puppet was a dream come true. 

It made the springs in his chest tighten again at the praise. It made him want to be all the more a good boy for Father. 

So off the puppet went, killing the giant scrapped watchman puppet, handed a baby doll to a woman whose sanity was slipping, blew a whistle for a boy on his last breaths of life. Each interaction left a strange, aching sensation in his springs that almost made him worry enough to ask Father to look at—but he decided against it when there were more issues to deal with. 

Returning to Hotel Krat with slightly singed hair and twitching limbs made Geppetto panic, so it was back to the seat with the tools and the probing, and the puppet was content to watch Geppetto work on him, running diagnostics on his body with a neurotic worry that tugged on the corners of the puppet’s lips. 

“Why are you smiling, son?” Geppetto had asked, and the puppet cocked his head at him. “You’re smiling.”

Geppetto tapped the corner of the puppet’s lips. 

“I don’t think he knows what that is, if I’m gonna be honest.” The chatty little cricket guide that the puppet had picked up chirped from where Geppetto had set him aside for a moment to work on the puppet. The old man turned to look at the lamp as it chirped again. “Did you poke something inside him to make him do that?”

The puppet didn’t think something poking inside him caused it.

“Perhaps the electricity from the scrapped watchman might have done something to his wiring.” Geppetto sighed. “Alright. You can rest for now, let your systems stabilise before you head out to Venigni Works, alright, son?” 

And that had been that. It had been approximately 40 minutes since Geppetto took the puppet off the seat to lounge about Hotel Krat for the time being, while the old man went to bed. The puppet contented himself with sitting in front of the fireplace in Father’s office in the hotel late at night while everyone was asleep, watching the flames flickering with a wide-eyed curiosity that, at the start of this staring session, had worried Gemini that the puppet might accidentally burn himself by touching the fire out of curiosity.

Thankfully, Gemini voicing out his worries was enough to stop the puppet from touching the fire (though he didn’t particularly think he’d like to touch it, considering how much electricity hurt), and the two puppets were content on sitting there quietly watching the fire flickering with a gentle, comforting rhythm of light and crackling sounds. 

The puppet thought back to how Gemini recounted their experiences in Krat City Hall, how Father looked increasingly perturbed by the violence that they’d had to face while fighting the Scrapped Watchman—the puppet and Gemini later found out his name was, indeed, Murphy—and sternly warned the puppet to be more careful when he headed out again, this time into Venigni Works. 

Perhaps picking up more parts and better components would be more helpful, the puppet supposed, but he’d only met two Wandering Merchants so far, and neither had anything for a more… defensive purpose. There was one Wandering Merchant, the one in the abandoned house on Elysion Boulevard, that seemed to imply he had something, if the puppet, ‘did something a little special for him’, but Gemini had quickly shot down the offer with an indignant, angry red glow from his cage and an angry rant. Unwilling to anger his cricket guide, the puppet politely refused the offer.

Unfortunately, the puppet would simply have to keep looking. Surely Venigni Works would have something he needed.

“Hey, pal, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

The puppet tuned out of his musing to look at his cricket companion, and looked around the office, trying to figure out what Gemini saw. 

“Over there, by the fireplace! Do you see that?”

The puppet looked back at the fireplace to realise that something very peculiar was perched on the iron grille in front of the flickering flames. 

A little white butterfly, with a little black spot on each of its upper wings. 

“That’s a cabbage butterfly, isn’t it?” Gemini chirped. “How’d one of those get in here?”

The puppet tilted his head, and reached out for the butterfly.

”H-hey! You’re gonna chase it away, pal!” Gemini spluttered. “Oh, but then again, it shouldn’t be able to sit on that hot grille, too. Huh.”

The puppet held out his hand—the non-mechanical one, and held it completely still. Of course, since he was a puppet, he could hold still like he wasn’t alive at all, and the corners of his lips tilted up slightly again when the butterfly fluttered from the grille to the puppet’s finger. 

Hello. It whispered, a boyish voice echoing in the puppet’s head, and the puppet blinked at it in surprise.

“Wait a minute, did that butterfly just talk?” Gemini asked in disbelief as the puppet merely nodded, both to greet the butterfly and to confirm Gemini’s question. 

You can hear me? The butterfly asked, a little awed, and the puppet nodded again. Oh, I… I didn’t think I’d get this far.

“What do you mean, ‘get this far’?” Gemini asked. “You didn’t think you’d be able to talk to me and my pal here?”

Yeah. The butterfly replied. I can’t believe that worked. 

“How what worked?” Gemini was starting to sound a little frustrated, so the puppet patted his cage reassuringly. “Are you getting a load of this guy?”

Hey! You’re the one being rude. The butterfly huffed. Anyway, I can’t actually see you properly, but I can communicate with you like this, through the Ergo. 

“Through the Ergo, you say? What, are you using it like some kind of telephone? Something like that?” Gemini asked. 

I guess? Something like that. To be honest, I can’t really explain it either. Anyway, I’m Carlo! Nice to meet you.

“Nice to meet you, Carlo. I’m Gemini. This is my pal.” 

The puppet watched the butterfly flutter its wings with mild annoyance. 

Your pal, what? Carlo asked petulantly. You don’t have a name?

The puppet shook his head. 

“W-well, no, not exactly.” Gemini mumbled in embarrassment. “He’s a puppet, you see. Not a human.”

I know, that’s the only reason I can talk to you. Carlo sighed. Only puppets can hear communications through the Ergo, you know. 

“Wow, really!” Gemini chirped in surprise. “You learn something new every day.”

What I’m more surprised about is why a puppet in Hotel Krat isn’t named. Carlo said petulantly. You’d think at least Lady Antonia would think of naming him…

“W-well, I mean,” Gemini stammered, “Our buddy here isn’t Lady Antonia’s. He’s Geppetto’s puppet.”

The butterfly went suspiciously quiet for a moment, the gentle white glow emanating from its wings dimming somewhat, and the puppet gently cupped his hand over it to hold it close to his chest comfortingly. 

So… what’d the old man name him?

“I…” Gemini hesitated, and if he had eyes the puppet could see, the cricket would likely be looking at him for approval. The puppet nodded encouragingly, and Gemini sighed. “I don’t think Geppetto ever named him.”

Figures. Carlo huffed petulantly. So you’re Geppetto’s puppet. I’ve gotta give you a name, at least. Don’t wanna call you that all the time. 

The puppet moved the butterfly away from his chest, holding it up again to look at it perched on his finger, and Gemini chirped in curiosity. 

“What’ve you got?” He asked. 

How about… Pinocchio? Carlo asked. Like the puppet boy in the story. 

The puppet cocked his head, looking at Gemini for guidance. 

“Oh, right! Remember that book we saw in Lady Antonia’s piano room? In the bookshelf? All of Krat knows that story.” Gemini said cheerfully. “I kind of like it. Suits you, pal.”

I like it too. Though it’s kind of a mouthful, so I’m calling you P. Carlo seemed to be a mischievous boy, the puppet—well, P, he supposed—thought fondly. He wondered what kind of person this Carlo was, if he was alive or not. 

Oh, I’m very much alive, thank you very much! Carlo huffed, and P cocked his head at him. What, you’re surprised I can hear what you’re thinking? You run on Ergo, of course I can hear it! I’m a Listener!

“Oh, just like Sophia!” Gemini said. 

That’s right. Though I’m not as strong as she is. All I can do is send out butterflies to scout the world. To be honest, all I can see is just what P here can see, so it’s a little weird to see my own butterfly instead of what P looks like. Carlo sighed. I can’t do it for very long, either, but I’ll try to see you as much as I can, if that’s alright. 

“I mean, sure, but what for?” Gemini asked. “Are you alright? Do you need help?”

Sort of. I mean, I do need you to save Krat, but I think that’s a given for anyone who lives here at this point. Carlo said sadly. I just… I want to see the world. I’ve been trapped inside for so long that… well…

“Trapped?” Gemini buzzed in surprise. “Tell us where you are and we’ll get you outta there, pal!”

Carlo fell quiet at that, and P frowned in thought. Gently he stroked the butterfly’s wing with his finger, but he and Gemini both jumped when the butterfly suddenly disappeared in a flutter of ivory scales. P looked at Gemini witheringly, and the cricket buzzed in protest. 

“Hey, it isn’t my fault!” Gemini spluttered. “B-besides, Carlo said that he couldn’t send his butterflies out for long. Maybe he just ran out of time.”

P looked back at his finger where the butterfly used to be. 

“Don’t worry, pal, I’m sure we’ll see him again.” Gemini said reassuringly. “You wanna get going? Maybe if we keep pressing onward we’ll find Carlo and save him from wherever he’s trapped, too.”

P nodded, and got up onto his feet. 

There was work to do.

They ran into Carlo again in Venigni Works, perched on the rails some distance away from where Venigni himself had been hiding. 

“Hey, it’s Carlo!” Gemini chirped, and P gave the butterfly a little wave as he approached him, allowing the butterfly to perch on his finger again to speak to it. “How are you doing, pal? Are you safe?”

Yeah, I’m fine. Carlo replied. So you met Lorenzini Venigni. I could see him through your eyes. 

P nodded. 

Kind of a looker, isn’t he? I get why he’s called a playboy! Carlo cackled, making Gemini splutter in embarrassment as P cocked his head at the butterfly in confusion. He’s handsome, P! A good-looking, rich guy like that ought to bag a pretty boy or girl for a night no problem. Or is he not your type or something? 

P stared at Carlo for a long moment as Gemini finally managed to pull himself together. 

“H-hey! P’s still just a kid, he doesn’t know about that kind of stuff!” Gemini shot back, making Carlo laugh anew. “Or are you one of those rotten adults?”

Rotten adult, huh. Carlo hummed. Well, I’m definitely not a kid—not by any standards. I’ve been called used goods before. 

P frowned at that in confusion as Gemini made a choking sound in shock. 

“U-used—” He began in surprise, but Carlo continued speaking over him.  

Anyway, I’m glad Venigni’s alright. It’s sweet he’s worried about someone other than himself, despite the whole being abandoned by Stalkers bit. Carlo said the last part bitterly. I thought Stalkers were supposed to help people, no matter what?

P and Gemini shared a concerned look. The way Carlo quickly brushed aside the topic was suspicious, but they decided against bringing it up. 

“Well, that was the idea.” Gemini said with a sombre tone. “But, well… things haven’t been going too well. Most of the Stalkers apparently died when the Workshop Union Tower collapsed.”

It collapsed? Carlo asked, and P cocked his head at him. Oh, don’t be all confused, P. I’ve been stuck in one place for a while now, remember?

“Right, about that!” Gemini said, “You gotta tell us where you are, Carlo. I’m sure P and I will find you and bail you out!”

Carlo fell quiet again, and P looked at Gemini witheringly. 

“Wh-what! Don’t look at me like that, I’m trying to help!”

No, it’s fine. P must think that since you failed to get an answer from me last time, the question makes me leave. Carlo sighed. No, I… I just ran out of time last time. I’m about to run out of time now. 

“Then just tell us where you are.” Gemini pleaded. 

Can’t. Carlo hesitated, and sighed. Even if I told you, I don’t know how you’ll be able to get here. 

“Tell us anyway.”

I… I’m at Arche—

The butterfly disappeared. P and Gemini deflated as the last few white butterfly scales disappeared, and they shared a worried glance. 

“At least that’s the first part of a name. Arche, whatever that is. Maybe someone back at the hotel will know something.”

P nodded, and continued to walk onward, deeper into the factory. 

For now, he supposed, he had Venigni Works to liberate.

“Thank you for waiting, compagno. Here’s your grinder.”

P cocked his head at Venigni as the man gently fitted the grinder back on his mechanical arm’s elbow. Venigni raised an eyebrow at him, grinning slightly, and he leaned back when he was done. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked as P leaned closer in curiosity. “Oho! My friend, how very forward!”

Across from them, Eugénie squeaked in surprise, covering her face at the proximity between Venigni and P, but her fingers were slightly parted, letting her continue to watch them. Venigni laughed good-naturedly, patting P’s waist as he moved away from him to stand a polite distance from him.

“I can’t complain about the view, compagno, but perhaps somewhere less public would be somewhere more appropriate to stare at my handsome face so closely?” Venigni chuckled charmingly, and P pouted in confusion. “Or, perhaps… you have other intentions?”

“M-M-Master Geppetto is just upstairs.” Eugénie said from where she was sitting, still looking at them through her fingers, though her cheeks were quite red. “M-maybe that’s a little… um.”

P cocked his head at her in confusion. 

“Pal, I think you need to speak up.” Gemini said in a stage whisper, putting fond smiles on both Eugénie and Venigni’s faces. “They can’t read your mind, y’know!”

P struggled for a moment to find the words to say, and finally managed a little sentence. 

“I… don’t… understand.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, you sound adorable.” Eugénie breathed quietly as Venigni laughed fondly, patting the puppet’s back. 

“I knew it. Our friend here has been alive for less than a week, after all. It was purely curiosity! A feeling I know far too well. Very well, observe on, my friend! As I said, I am completely—utterly—at your service for saving my life.” 

P squirmed awkwardly as Venigni grinned at him handsomely, and he shook his head. 

“Oh, so not mere curiosity?” Venigni asked teasingly, and P bit his lip, shaking his head again. “Oh, my. Your words, please, my friend. I cannot read minds, no matter how brilliant I am.” 

“What’s… a… playboy?” P asked, and Gemini burst out laughing as Eugénie blushed anew, while Venigni’s grin widened. “Wh… what?” P asked, sounding a little embarrassed, and Venigni shook his head, patting P’s shoulder fondly. 

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing.” He chuckled. “A playboy… is someone who has far too much amore to give. To more than one person, even!” 

“Amore?” P repeated as Venigni nodded, slinging his arm over P’s shoulders.

“Love, my friend!” He cheered, “Amore is love!” 

“Oh, Mr. Venigni is skewing the meaning a little.” Eugénie huffed, crossing her arms, and P looked at her as Venigni laughed good-naturedly. “A playboy is someone who makes multiple people feel like he loves them!” 

“Is that… a bad… thing…?” P asked slowly, and Eugénie blinked in surprise as Venigni beamed at her, winking conspiratorially. 

“The innocent question is correct, Signorina!” Venigni chuffed, “To love many is to love the world, to spread love!”

“What sort of indoctrination of my son is going on here, Venigni?” 

Venigni, Eugénie, and P turned to see Geppetto standing at the entrance to their own wing in the hotel lobby, his arms crossed, while next to him, Antonia chuckled fondly behind her hand, Polendina standing behind her wheelchair. 

“Oh dear.” Venigni chuckled. “Caught by your Padre, my friend.” 

He let go of P with a gentle pat to his shoulder, and the puppet stood there, oddly bereft of what to do as Geppetto sighed exasperatedly. 

“If you have any questions, son, I suggest you direct them to me or Antonia instead.” Geppetto deadpanned, looking witheringly at Venigni as the man gave him a wide grin, and made an attempt at appeasing the man by giving him a wink. “Venigni is very intelligent, but being a High Society darling can do things to your personality I’d rather not happen.”

“Oh, you wound me, Signore!” Venigni grinned cheekily, and P was relieved to see Geppetto smiling slightly at the younger man’s antics. “I promise to behave around your son more demurely. The Signorina may keep an eye on us, of course.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt Eugénie’s good manners.” Geppetto sighed as Antonia nodded fondly. “It’s you pulling my son into tomfoolery that has me worried.”

“Oh, you’ve always been so cautious of male friends.” Antonia chuckled fondly, and P cocked his head at the statement, but decided not to say anything. “At this rate, this handsome young man will only have girls for friends!”

“I might prefer it that way, honestly.” Geppetto grumbled, making Venigni laugh anew. 

“Anyway, it’s nice to see everyone here tonight. Shall we have dinner?” Antonia asked pleasantly, and Venigni and Eugénie nodded. Antonia looked at P, who looked back at her with a lost expression on his face. “And you’re welcome to join us too, of course. You don’t need to eat, but the conversation would be just as enjoyable, I’m sure.”

P nodded gingerly, and he looked at Geppetto, who gave him a little smile and a nod. 

P’s springs reacted again at the sight, something akin to the flutter of Carlo’s little wings, and he couldn’t help but mirror Father’s expression, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. Beyond him, Venigni and Eugénie spotted the puppet smiling and shared a fond look, before quietly nodding at each other to not mention it as they all followed Antonia and Polendina to the dining hall, Pulcinella at Venigni’s heels.

Dinner was a lovely affair. Only Sophia was missing from the table, and P didn’t know if she simply didn’t have dinner with everyone or didn’t have meals at all—which made less sense. Having rarely stayed at Hotel Krat during mealtimes, P didn’t know how the hotel’s inhabitants spent their meals together, but according to what he picked up from the conversations at the table, group dinners seemed to be a frequent occurrence—lunch and breakfast, it seemed, were taken privately, considering the three tinkerers among them all were likely busy with one thing or another during the day. 

Gemini talked on P’s behalf for most of the conversation, though as per their agreement earlier before returning to Hotel Krat, they decided to leave out mentions of Carlo and Sophia, both of whom the hotel’s inhabitants didn’t seem to know despite the fact Sophia often haunted the lobby in different spots, though in areas where Venigni and Eugénie would have a hard time seeing her. 

“Defence parts, you say?” Venigni hummed as Pulcinella refilled his glass of water. “I think, if you hunt down some Venigni Collection boxes around the city, they should have something we could provide you.”

“That’d be much appreciated.” Gemini sighed. “This poor guy’s been taking beatings and it’s breaking my heart.”

“And mine.” Geppetto frowned from where he sat next to P, and the puppet felt his springs tighten at the man’s words as he shook his head. “I’d make his defensive parts myself, if I had the materials… as it stands, though, we can only scavenge for them.”

“It’s true.” Eugénie sighed. “I’m thankful for the weapons you leave behind here at the hotel, though. You’re giving me plenty to work with!”

P gave them a sheepish little smile, nodding. 

“Oh, but there should be Wandering Merchants out and about who might have a thing or two.” Antonia hummed. “Have you encountered any of those?”

P nodded. 

“Surely they have something to help?” Venigni asked. 

“Usually… weapons.” P mumbled. “Things… to throw.”

“Ah, offensive gear.” Eugénie tapped her chin in thought. “Makes sense. A good defence is a good offence, especially when things are hard to come by.”

“But… one of them.” P continued. “Said he had… something. If I did… something special… for him.”

The table went deathly silent, though P had yet to notice the quiet shock. 

“Gemini… got angry. So… I said… no.” P finished, looking winded at having managed such a long sentence, and only then did he notice the table staring at him in shock. “Did… I do something… wrong?”

“No, not at all, child.” Antonia sighed exasperatedly, rubbing her temple as she glanced at Geppetto. “Old friend, please calm down. You’ll scare the boy with that dreadful expression you’re making.”

P jumped at the mention of his father’s expression, and he looked at the old man in worry as Geppetto sighed deeply, schooling his expression before P could see it. 

“Thank goodness Gemini was there.” Eugénie sighed, shaking her head. “You’re only a few days old, after all. It’s good you have a guide.”

“Indeed.” Venigni nodded sagely. “Ah, but with a face like that, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Though if I’m being honest, I thought it would happen in the Malum District, but I suppose Krat has fallen to the dogs…”

“What’s… wrong with… my face?” P frowned in worry as Geppetto glowered at Venigni, who raised his hands defensively. 

“Forgive me, Signore Geppetto, but I am just speaking the truth.” Venigni said, and gave P a little grin. “My friend, you are beautiful. Pretty little things like you are a rarity among even the elite, so you can imagine how the common folk would take to someone like you.”

“I think the point is that he can’t.” Gemini deadpanned, making Venigni shrug. “And that’s why I’m here! To make sure the creeps won’t lay a hand on my pal!”

P looked at Gemini with a little smile. He was still a little confused about what everyone was talking about, but he was grateful for Gemini’s guidance and company. It got lonely, sometimes, walking around the empty streets of Krat with no one else with him, so Gemini was someone he held dear. The little cricket’s guidance was also helpful, considering everyone’s reactions to his story about the Wandering Merchant. 

He stole a glance at Geppetto again, deflating slightly when he saw the man was frowning deeply, glowering at Venigni. Gently, P reached for his father’s gloved hand, and when his hand wrapped around Geppetto’s hand, the old man jumped, and looked at him in surprise. P lifted the corner of his mouth slightly, and tilted his head. 

“I’m… okay.” He said quietly to the man as Venigni and Gemini launched into a conversation about how the little cricket puppet would like to give ‘those creeps a walloping’, whatever that meant. Geppetto blinked at his puppet son as P squeezed their joined hands. “If you… are worried… I’ll keep away… as much… as I can.” 

“No, son, don’t do that for my sake.” Geppetto grumbled. “You need their wares. Just—just be careful, alright? It’s good that Gemini was there to protect you, but you’ll need to learn to protect yourself from people like that on your own.” 

P nodded. “I have… another question.”

“Perhaps we should keep questions to private conversations.” Geppetto stole a glance at their companions, but P only had eyes for him. The puppet nodded eagerly, and the man gave him a tired little smile. “Good boy. Come see me later if you’re not heading out for tonight. In fact, perhaps you shouldn’t. Stay the night for now; you can see the refugees at Saint Frangelico Cathedral tomorrow.” 

P nodded, and they turned their attention back to the conversation, which had roped Eugénie in to talk about how on earth she could arm a tiny cricket puppet locked in a lamp-cage, silly little situations that made Antonia laugh with charming delight. 

Tonight was wonderful, P thought, to have everyone in the hotel with him like this, but tonight was even more special when Geppetto let him keep holding his hand.

“Gemini… stay here.” 

P gently set Gemini down on the bed of his own hotel room, and the cricket lamp chirped curiously. 

“Huh, why?” Gemini asked, “Where are you off to, pal?”

“Talking… to Father.” P said. 

“Can’t I come with you?”

“He said… private conversation.” P replied, gently patting Gemini’s cage as he tucked the lamp into bed. He looked at the lamp resting against the pillow he’d never used, and the cricket let out an exasperated little chirp. 

“You didn’t have to tuck me in, at least.” Gemini paused, and chuckled a little. “Though the sentiment is nice. You’re a real sweet kid.”

“Thank you.” P lifted the corner of his lips slightly. 

“You’ve been talking more and smiling more, too. It’s great.” Gemini sighed happily. “I hope you get used to it enough that you can talk a little more quickly.”

P nodded wordlessly, making Gemini grumble.

“And suddenly you’re not talking. Okay, I see how it is.” He huffed. “Fine, I’ll wait for you right here, pal. Just don’t forget your buddy Gemini before you head out!”

P nodded again, and with a little wave at Gemini, he stepped away from the bed, looking around at the hotel room Antonia provided him. It was a little smaller than the other hotel rooms provided to the other hotel residents, he knew, but that was largely because he was using it as a storage facility rather than as a place to stay. P didn’t need to sleep, not really, but he did need a place to put his miscellaneous things—letters and books and fliers he picked up along his journey, weapons and amulets, extra consumable materials and throwable items. They were all arranged in neat little groups around the room, and the clothes he got along his journey were steadily filling up the wardrobe. Right now, he was fond of a blue tailcoat he’d picked up in a Trinity Sanctum in Venigni Works, but tonight, he felt like changing his clothes. 

He strode to the wardrobe and inspected what he collected so far, his gaze landing on the blue sailor-inspired uniform Antonia had given him the first time they met. Nodding to himself, he quickly changed out of his clothes and put them on—

“Buddy, are you actually changing clothes to meet Geppetto?” Gemini asked as P finished off tying the necktie at his collar, and he looked at Gemini with a cocked head. “I thought you guys were just going to be talking about something. Maybe I should come along?”

“No, stay.” P said, and turned his attention back to fixing his clothes to make them look presentable. He didn’t know how to explain to Gemini that changing into someone’s memory simply felt right, somehow. The look in Geppetto’s eyes when they first met on the Alchemist’s Bridge, the way he looked at P in those clothes, and the unreadable look on his face—P didn’t know what was going through Father’s mind. Something about those clothes made Father feel something, and P wanted to see it again—just to learn exactly what the old man was feeling. 

When he deemed himself presentable enough, turning around in front of the full-body mirror by the wardrobe, he nodded, and left the room. He shut the door quietly behind himself—it was late, after all, and some residents, like Antonia, were already asleep—and made his way to the room just next to his: Geppetto’s bedroom. He knocked gently on the door once, twice, three times—

“Come in.” Geppetto’s voice came in from behind the door, and P opened the door to peek inside. Unlike the large office on the second floor of the hotel, Geppetto’s hotel room where he actually slept was smaller, too, though larger than P’s due to having multiple rooms, like an en-suite bathroom (which P’s room also had, for the record), a study, an empty walk-in closet, and even a small library. The library’s bookshelves, however, were filled with puppet parts instead of books, though there were some books on the lower levels, but they looked like journals or notebooks instead. 

Father was sitting on an armchair next to a radiator, and P lifted the corner of his mouth when the man beckoned him over, gesturing to an ottoman next to his armchair. The puppet nodded obediently, shutting the door behind himself when he entered Geppetto’s room, and quietly sat down on the ottoman in front of his father, hands on his lap as he looked at him expectantly. 

“You’re wearing that again.” Geppetto murmured, and only then did P realise the man was holding a small glass that had an amber-coloured liquid in it. P nodded as the man took a sip of his drink, humming softly. “Where did you get that?”

“Lady Antonia.” P replied, and Geppetto snorted softly.

“I should’ve known Antonia had a hand in it.” He mumbled exasperatedly, and P cocked his head at him. “No, forgive us for being sentimental, son. Those clothes… hold old memories for us both.”

“What… memories?” P asked. 

“Of a happier time. Before the Puppet Frenzy.” Geppetto replied, and he shook his head. “You said earlier you had a question? Feel free to speak now, where we won’t be interrupted. I know Venigni is a kind man at heart, but he can be a little… eccentric. The man is a playboy that likes playing with people’s hearts—he’s young, after all. I just don’t want you getting hurt or taking after that sort of behaviour.” 

P nodded, looking down at his hands on his lap, missing the way Geppetto’s gaze seemed to fix on that little action. 

“I want you to be a good boy for me. So while Venigni might be kind and helpful, don’t emulate his behaviour, alright?” 

P nodded again, and he looked back at his father. 

“Now ask what you wanted to ask.” Geppetto said, taking another sip of his drink. “I promise I’ll listen and answer as best as I can.” 

P lifted the corner of his lips at his response. 

“What is… my name?” He asked, and Geppetto blinked at him in surprise, caught off guard by the question. “All… the other… puppets… have names. Polendina. Pulcinella. What’s… my name?”

Geppetto looked at him for a long moment, and P realised he’d mouthed a word. He couldn’t read Geppetto’s lips, though, and the man sighed, looking off to the side. 

“Well. Tell you what,” He said, “Why don’t you choose a name?”

“Me?” P asked. 

“That’s right, son. Start over a new leaf. Pick out a name for yourself.” Geppetto replied. “It can be anything—well, within reason, I suppose. I don’t want you to pick something that sounds downright silly or not even a real na—”

“Pinocchio.” 

Geppetto stopped, blinking at P again as the puppet looked back at him earnestly. 

“Did you…” He began, but he shook his head. “You chose that for yourself, then?” 

The truth was that Carlo had picked his name out for him, but P liked it, too.

How odd, though, that something in his springs was telling him not to mention that to Father. 

P nodded, and Geppetto hummed in thought, leaning back in his seat. 

“Pinocchio. Oddly fitting, I suppose. I’m sure it won’t be strange for others when they hear it, too, knowing that you’re a puppet.” Geppetto huffed. “What brought this on? Why did you feel the need to ask if you had a name?” 

P paused at the question. The truth was that he simply wanted Geppetto to call him by his name, he supposed, but he didn’t know what kind of response that would get him if he decided to tell the truth. He knew that as a puppet unbound by the Grand Covenant, P had all the freedom to lie or tell the truth, but this was Father. The man who made him, practically his God, if P had to think about it. 

He didn’t want to lie to Father, but he could.

“I was… curious.” P said, thinking back to Venigni’s words, about mere curiosity, whatever that meant. “Because… the other puppets… had names. And I… didn’t.”

“Oh, son.” Geppetto sighed fondly. “I apologise. I never thought to give you one.” 

That didn’t feel right, but P nodded anyway. 

“Well, was that all you wanted to ask?” Geppetto asked, and P shook his head. “Go on, then.” 

There was another thing P had been curious about from his conversations with Carlo. 

“What does… it mean…” P said slowly, and Geppetto nodded along with his slow cadence. “When someone… is… ‘used goods’?”

He’d wondered why Gemini reacted so violently to Carlo mentioning that. Why he sounded so horrified that Carlo had been called ‘used goods’, whatever that meant. Carlo was, presumably, a person, just like Sophia or anyone else in the hotel, so it was odd that he’d be called a ‘usable good’. People were people, consumable items were items. Puppets stood in the crossroads between them, he supposed, but Carlo was ostensibly not a puppet, at least. 

Maybe he was a butterfly? But butterflies didn’t talk. Sophia certainly wasn’t just a butterfly, either. Both Sophia and Carlo were Listeners, which meant Carlo was likely a person, at the very least.

P watched the way Father’s expression warped from confusion, to shock and horror, his eyes widening as he lowered his glass of dark amber liquid to the coffee table in front of his armchair. 

“Wh-where… where did…” He said faintly as P cocked his head at him in worry. “Where did you hear that term?”

He couldn’t mention Carlo. 

“A letter.” P lied. “Someone… said… they were… used goods. What does… that mean?”

“I…” Geppetto sighed exasperatedly, running his hand through his hair. “Oh, I think you ought to stop reading through people’s private letters, son. Even if they’re dead, for their sake.”

“Why?” P asked, frowning. “I like… learning about… Krat.” 

“Yes, well…” Geppetto shook his head. “Sometimes you pick things up that are not so nice.” 

“Like… being… ‘used goods’?” P asked, and the man flinched at P using the term repeatedly. “Humans… aren’t goods… that can… be used… right?”

“No, I—” Geppetto heaved an exasperated sigh, and he heavily patted P’s hands on his lap. “Can’t I dissuade you from trying to learn this term?” He asked, and P shook his head. “Oh, your curiosity is a good thing… but it’s a double-edged sword. I hesitate to discuss this, but with your story earlier about that Wandering Merchant… I think I need to talk to you about this.” 

“About… being… ‘used goods’?” P cocked his head, and Geppetto grimaced, but nodded. 

“Among other things.” Geppetto said. “Alright. When someone is called a ‘used good’, son, it means they’ve… they’ve had intercourse before.” 

Intercourse? 

“What is… intercourse?” 

“God.” Geppetto groaned, and P looked at him worriedly. “Right. Intercourse—some people call it sex, or—or… whatever. What you need to know is that it’s something bad, alright? Good boys don’t have sex whenever or wherever, and especially not with bad people.” 

P frowned in thought as he cocked his head. “Why is… it bad?”

“Because it is,” Geppetto grumbled, “It’s degrading and filthy. Something that people with no manners or poor breeding do. You’re a good boy, son, so you know better than to do something like that, am I understood?”

P nodded awkwardly. He didn’t know why Geppetto was so upset, and ‘sex’ sounded vague without a real descriptor to exactly what or how sex was done, but he didn’t want to upset Geppetto more than he already had. Whatever having sex was, Carlo had it before and that made him a bad boy? But Carlo was kind so far—mischievous and teasing, sure, but kind nevertheless. If anything, he was a victim, trapped wherever in the world this ‘Arche’ was. 

“Good boy.” Geppetto sighed exasperatedly. “That person who was called ‘used goods’ was probably someone who had sex improperly. You might have ended up like that, too, if Gemini hadn’t stopped the Wandering Merchant.”

“Really?” P asked, blinking in surprise. “But… he said… to do something… special. Not have sex.”

“People come up with sneaky ways to ask for sex.” Geppetto grumbled. “Especially lowlifes like that, who only want to trick good boys like you into becoming bad boys.” 

Well, P couldn’t have that, certainly. He wanted to be a good boy for Father. 

“I’ll be… more careful.” P mumbled, looking down at his hands, and Geppetto finally smiled, nodding as he gently touched P’s chin, lifting it slightly so he could look into the puppet’s face. 

“I know you will. You’re always a good boy to me.” Geppetto said warmly, and P felt his springs tighten at the praise, nodding sheepishly in Geppetto’s gentle touch to his skin. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask? I hope it’s nothing as unpleasant as this conversation we just had.”

Well, P wanted to ask about where this ‘Arche’ was, but perhaps now was not the best time to ask. P shook his head, and the old man nodded, leaning back in his seat. 

“Thank god we talked about this in private, son.” Geppetto huffed. “I can’t begin to imagine what Venigni might tell you if you’d asked him about it.” 

“Do you… think he’ll… trick me?” P asked, and the man snorted as he finished off his drink. 

“Well, he told you wrong things about playboys, so I don’t trust he’ll teach you properly.” Geppetto scoffed. 

“What’s a… playboy… then, Father?” 

Geppetto winced, and he looked at P witheringly. 

“It’s someone who says he loves more than one person.” He said, and P cocked his head at him. 

“Is that… a bad thing?” P asked the same question from earlier, and Geppetto hesitated for a moment, before nodding. 

“Yes.” He said, “You’re only supposed to love one person. One above anyone else, because that person is special to you. The most special person in your whole world.” 

Oh. P clutched his chest, where his springs were reacting again. 

“So… does that mean… I can only… love you, Father?” He asked, and Geppetto blinked at him. “Are you… my most special person… in the world?”

Somehow, P could hear gears turning in Father’s head, for some reason, as the man stared at him for a long moment, before the man slowly smiled.

“Yes, son.” He said warmly. “That’s absolutely correct. Of course, you still need to be kind and polite to everyone, but you need to love and be devoted to your most special person in the world.”

“You.”

“Yes, me.” 

“And am I… your most special person?” 

(A moment’s hesitation, one P chose to ignore because Father was a human and needed more time to think than a puppet like him.)

“Of course.” Geppetto said. “You’re so precious to me, my son.”

The springs in P’s chest were reacting, and something tingled low in P’s gut at the way Geppetto smiled at him. 

“I’m… glad.” P replied. “Thank you, Father.” 

“Ah, if you could indulge me for a moment?” Geppetto asked, and P cocked his head at him. “In private, could you change the way you call me?” 

“Oh?” P cocked his head. “To what?” 

“Daddy.” Geppetto said, and P pouted in thought. “It means the same thing, of course. Just—more intimate. A little childish, but more innocent. Purer.” 

“Okay.” P hesitated, and then tried it out: “Daddy.”

“Good boy.” Geppetto rested his hand on P’s head. It was warm, large, and comforting, and the corner of P’s lips lifted—no, he smiled. “Remember, son—only in private. If anyone else can hear, it’s Father, alright? This is just for the two of us.”

P nodded. “Just… the two of us.” 

Even Carlo and Gemini couldn’t have this, then. More for him, he supposed. 

“Stay the night.” Geppetto said, ruffling P’s hair gently, making P smile a little more widely. “The bed’s big enough. You’ll indulge me, won’t you?” 

The puppet nodded. 

“Good boy. Come to bed, now…”