Everyone turned to look at the small dragon perched on Liam’s shoulder. With a shimmer of light, Midnight’s form began to shrink and change. Her limbs contracted, her body compacting until she was the size of a housecat, her scales gleaming like polished obsidian.

"Holy shit!" Noir exclaimed. "She transformed!"

Liam blinked in surprise as Midnight curled herself into a tight circle around his neck, like a living scarf with glowing amber eyes.

"I didn’t know we could still do that," Elizabeth said, her hand instinctively reaching for her own ears. "After the shift, I thought all our beast abilities were gone."2

"Midnight is special," the tiny dragon purred, her voice now higher and more melodic.

Johan immediately stood up in the moving wagon, nearly hitting his head on the canvas top. "I’m trying mine!" He closed his eyes in concentration, his face scrunching with effort. Nothing happened. "Maybe if I—" He strained harder, his face turning red.

"Johan, you’re going to give yourself a hernia," Mirra said dryly.

Everyone began attempting their transformations. Noir’s face went through a series of contorted expressions. Rogue squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that tears leaked out. Berry let out a small growl of frustration.

Liam reached up to stroke Midnight’s scaled head. "How did you do that?"

"Midnight just... did it," she replied, nuzzling against his fingers.

The wagon hit a bump, and everyone lurched. Berry’s hand shot out to grab Liam’s thigh for balance, her claws extending slightly in surprise. She didn’t remove it immediately.

"Sorry," she said, not looking sorry at all. Her fingers traced small circles on his leg.

Noir noticed and cleared her throat loudly. "So, Liam, about that cooking talent of yours. Are you planning to open a restaurant in the city?"

"I need to level it up first, and I don’t want to run anything. I want to travel and find recipes," Liam replied, seemingly oblivious to both women’s positioning. "The higher the skill, the better the buffs."

"Midnight can help," the tiny dragon offered, her tail curling possessively around Liam’s throat. "Midnight is very good at licking."

Every man on the wagon’s brain short-circuited and looked at Liam with an eyebrow raised.

The wagon continued its journey through the countryside, the landscape gradually shifting from open plains to rolling hills dotted with strange, twisted trees.

The conversation flowed around Liam. He was thinking about Thornback Lizards. He’d heard they nested in the hills past the gatehouse, and he kept turning over the question of whether their meat would carry the same mineral sharpness as their scales suggested, or if slow-braising would pull something sweeter out of the connective tissue near the crest. Berry’s hand was on his thigh. He was pretty sure the answer was a concoction-based.

As the day wore on, the tension in the wagon became palpable. Berry began "accidentally" brushing against Liam whenever the wagon hit a bump. Elizabeth responded by "needing" to check her sword, which required her to lean across Liam’s lap. Midnight, for her part, kept making small contented sounds that sounded suspiciously like purring.

"Does anyone else need to use the facilities?" Mirra asked suddenly, gesturing to a small clearing they were approaching. "Driver says we’re stopping for a quick break."

The wagon pulled to a halt, and everyone stretched their legs. Liam carefully extracted himself from between Berry and Elizabeth, Midnight still curled around his neck like a living necklace.

As the group gathered firewood and prepared a small cooking area, Liam set up his portable stove. He pulled ingredients from his inventory: fresh herbs, vegetables, and a chunk of meat he’d caught before leaving.

"Need help?" Berry asked, appearing at his side with a bundle of kindling.

"Sure," Liam nodded, accepting the wood. "Can you start the fire?"

Berry’s eyes lit up with more enthusiasm than fire, starting typically warranted. As she crouched beside him, her tail brushed against his arm with deliberate slowness.

Elizabeth appeared on his other side, a water skin in hand. "Thought you might need this."

"Thanks," Liam said, accepting it. He was aware of both women hovering close, watching his every move as he began preparing the meal.

Midnight uncurled herself from around his neck, growing back to her humanoid form in a shimmer of light. "Midnight wants to help too!"

She reached for a knife, but her small hand was intercepted by Elizabeth’s.

"Maybe let the chef work," Elizabeth suggested, her tone making it clear this wasn’t a suggestion.

By the time the food was ready, a savoury stew with herbs and wild vegetables, the campfire had drawn everyone in.

As they ate, Rogue’s gold-filled sleeping bag became a point of fascination.

"Seriously, man, why a sock?" Johan asked between bites.

"It’s practical," Rogue insisted. "You can wear it as a hat in cold weather, use it as a bag, sleep in it, but right now it’s full."

"Or lose your dignity," Noir added with a snort.

Liam focused on his cooking, adjusting seasonings and making mental notes for next time. The food buffs would help with their journey, increase stamina and resistance to the night chill.

When the meal was finished, the group lingered around the dying fire. No one moved to pack up immediately. Berry had stretched out on her side in the grass, propped on one elbow, close enough that her tail occasionally swept across Liam’s boot. Elizabeth sat with her back against a tree, her sword across her knees, watching the treeline with the focused expression of someone who was definitely not watching Liam. Midnight had curled back into her cat-sized form and was asleep on his pack.

"Driver says another hour," Mirra announced, not looking up from whatever she was sharpening.

Liam didn’t hear her. His pen was moving.

Lich meat. Cold-process vs. heat. Does necrotic connective tissue break down differently when braised? Probably wrong approach. Cure it? Dry-age? He underlined the last two words twice. Mineral finish either way. Could be interesting.

Berry leaned over his shoulder, close enough that the warmth of her pressed against him like a second thought he hadn’t asked for.

"Is that... a recipe?" she asked. "For Fridge?"

"Notes," he said.

She didn’t move away. Neither did the uncomfortable realisation settle in his chest that somewhere between respawning into this world and whatever the hell this was becoming, cooking the undead had started feeling like the least complicated part of his life.

[Tool Tip]:

Status: Romantic Deflection: 100%.

The "Licking" Shockwave: Midnight’s casual declaration of her licking proficiency has caused a [Local Logic Collapse] in every adult male within fifty meters. Johan is currently questioning his life choices, while Liam is still exclusively thinking about lizard marrow.

The Necrotic Notebook Audit: Berry, leaning over to inspect Liam’s notes, has exposed her to a high-resolution sketch of Fridge’s ribcage labelled: [DO NOT COOK YET NEEDS CORROSIVE BRINE DRY-AGE]. Her desire for physical contact has dropped by 4%, replaced entirely by skeletal concern.