Chapter 5: Ch. 4 – Momo’s First Exploitation

Momo awoke to the sound of eggs frying on a skillet, the heavenly smell of warm maple syrup wafting through the air. Morning light was beaming through the glass ceiling, and the leaves of the wizard’s various plants arched their stems to touch it.

She rubbed her eyes and groaned. She was immediately regretting the promise she made to herself last night. This was heaven.

“Good morning, young lady!” the wizard exclaimed, his voice filling the room. Momo sprung up in bed, always one to be caught off guard.

Looking around, Momo found that the fantasy she had been imagining in her slumber did not match reality. It was not the wizard who cooked, but a skeletal figure wearing a long, flowing dress. The skele-chef was accompanied by a dozen garden gnomes, who stirred ingredients and sampled the batter as she flipped pancakes on the hot griddle. She didn’t even blink when oil splattered across her face.

Does anyone employ people with a pulse on this planet? Momo wondered. Of course, undead labor seemed economical, not to mention efficient, but it was not pretty, and ethicality was a whole other question…

“G’morning,” Momo whispered to the wizard, feeling once again very out of place.

All of the gnomes suddenly stopped and turned to her, as if waiting for an instruction.

Momo’s eyebrows rose. Could she control them? She was entirely lost on how these new powers of hers worked. There were so many intersecting mechanics—classes, levels, skills… She never thought she’d regret spending her youth drawing anime characters (and being subsequently bullied on DeviantArt) instead of playing video games. But here she was.

“Back to work, you lazy gnomes!” the wizard frowned, regaining authority over his minions. Momo bristled at how he spoke to them. Even if they were dead and mindless, they still deserved respect.

She momentarily dreamed of running a Home for Abused and Unwanted Undead, where she would rehabilitate unwanted minions of all shapes and sizes. A sanctuary where they felt warm and safe, or as warm and safe as skeletons could feel. Surrounded by mold and moss, given hard, cold cement beds. Momo smiled with glee.

“Stupid gnomes, no loyalty,” the wizard shook his head, sitting at the kitchen table as the skele-chef arranged a variety of breakfast items in front of him. He gestured for Momo to join him, and she reluctantly left her bed, sitting across from him.

The skele-chef poured some hot water in her cup, placing a tea infuser on top of it. It smelled wonderful and rich—like the matcha tea her mom would make every morning. Momo’s bright smile faltered. Her relationship with her parents had soured in recent years (they wanted her to go into a profession that makes money, Momo wanted to draw mediocre cartoons) but she still recalled them fondly. They had done their best, trying to raise her in a brand new, unfamiliar land.

Momo looked around her. Brand new, unfamiliar land... She frowned. If the universe was trying to teach her a lesson, it was a lesson she was uninterested in learning.

“Dig in,” the wizard said, raising his fork and knife excitedly before cutting into the pancakes.

Putting her questions about the ethics of undead labor aside, Momo was basically drooling just looking at the food. Throwing politeness to the wind, she went to work; she ravenously swallowed up three pancakes, a plum, ten cherries, and two eggs before her stomach begged for mercy. She groaned, reclining back into her seat. Yes, she did feel like she was about to give birth, but God, it was worth it.

“They really have been starving you,” the wizard shook his head, “how cruel.”

“So cruel,” she whispered, barely able to speak. Her lungs were running out of room to inflate, her stomach now taking up most of the space.

“So, you say the conniving necromancers kidnapped you just yesterday… where did you hail from before then? Do you have a family, a place to call home?”

Momo froze. She wasn’t sure how much further to continue with her lying. Not that any of it was much of a lie, per se. They did “kidnap” her from a different world entirely.

“Um, Earth?” she mumbled.

His eyebrows rose comically, “the Other-World?! You don’t say!”

She simply nodded, watching with uncertainty as he rose from the table.

“Oh, how very intriguing! I capture spirits from the Other-World quite regularly, as they make great workers, with all their knowledge in the various earthly disciplines,” he gestured to the skeletal chef, who was now busy cleaning the dishes, “but you… you are fully formed, with a personality and everything.”

Momo felt very unnerved at the way he was examining her. As if she was a piece of venison sold at the market.

“They must have not taken simply your spirit, but fully… transported you,” his eyes glowed with interest, “I didn’t even know it was possible—to fully transport a person between planes. That must take an immense amount of nether magic, performed by a very high-level necromancer.”

His eyebrows creased with concern, and he began to sweat, “a very high level necromancer…”

“You must be talking about Valerica,” Momo said, unable to help the smile forming on her lips, “she told me that she chose me herself.”

“V—Valerica?” he stuttered, skin going pale, “The Valerica is the High Necromancer of Morgana’s Dawn?”

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Telling from his appearance, Valerica had a reputation that even exceeded the sanctuary of mages she led. Momo sighed. She was so cool.

“Oh Gods, oh dear sweet heavenly Gods,” he buried his head in his hands, “I have made a grave error.” After babbling nonsense for a few moments, he got up from the table and rushed towards a locked chest. He fished for a key in his pockets, and shoved it frantically into the lock.

Cool factor aside, the amount of terror a mere mention of Valerica inspired in this wizard was not lost on Momo. By the time he had rejoined Momo at the table, she could have filled a full bucket with his sweat.

“Here,” he insisted, pushing a small mountain of gold to Momo’s side of the table, “take all of it. It’s the cost of the bag of undead bits, and then some. Please tell Valerica that I have nothing but respect for her sanctuary.”

Momo picked up one of the gold pieces. It was unexpectedly light, barely a feather to hold. The currency seemed to be enchanted with some sort of magic, making it easy to carry around in large amounts.

He looked at Momo with pleading eyes. His begging filled Momo with a completely foreign feeling—a rush of power. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt a sense of dominion over someone; that she could make them do anything just to appease her.

Oh no, she was… she was enjoying it, wasn’t she?

She swallowed. No, she was better than this, maybe.

Still, it was an opportunity. And Momo had promised herself that she would start taking those.

“Can we count on you to be a repeat customer?” she mumbled, voice cracking like she was going through puberty. How embarrassing. She cringed. The idea was there, but she had a lot of work to do on the execution.

“A repeat customer?” he grimaced.

She nodded. If Morgana’s Dawn was in need of funds, then the best thing she could do was drum up regular business. Momo had worked long enough at Mallmart to learn a thing or two about exploitative business practices.

“I think Valerica would like that,” Momo smiled.

He looked quite like he might piss himself.

“Yes! Fine, fine,” he capitulated, shaking his head, “Gods, a girl kidnapped by the Queen of Decay herself… I pity you, even in our current circumstances.”

Queen of Decay? That sounded very gross, but also hey, a Queen nonetheless!

He lifted his head, having calmed himself down a bit.

“Listen,” he said, looking earnestly into Momo’s eyes, “you must be careful around her. She might seem charismatic, friendly, beautiful…” he trailed off, which Momo could absolutely relate to, “but it’s a carefully constructed ruse to get what she wants. At the end of the day, she is evil incarnate.”

At his grave warning, Momo grinned. How fun, she thought. Good villains were always the best characters.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nodded, totally aware that she wouldn’t.

Valerica believed in her. Saw great things for her. No one had ever done that before, evil incarnate or not.

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” he sighed, and reached out his hand, “now, what was your name, you vile little lass?”

Momo looked down at his hand, staring wordlessly. Could this be it—her first ever job completed?

“Momo,” she said quietly, and shook his hand. He shook it hard in return, flinging her limp wrist up and down.

“Momo,” he repeated, “I’ll remember that. Now skedaddle, before I remember my pride and change my mind about this whole arrangement!”

As Momo exited the house, she couldn’t help but do a small victory dance in his lawn, the gnomes mirroring her awkward little steps. With a satchel loaded full of gold, she grinned all the way back to the town square, pure dopamine lighting up her brain in a way that she’d never felt.

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