Grian has been experiencing all sorts of mischief for the past few weeks with his new neighbours and honestly, he never would've thought that staying at proximity with the fellow Hermits could both be this stressful and fun at the same time.

  Everything that has happened so far at least makes it easier for him to deal with the unwelcome thoughts about a certain white bunny whose name he shouldn't always mention.

  By not dealing with it at all and pretend that they never happened in the first place.

  Yeah.

  Seems like a foolproof plan, if you ask him.

  An image pops into Grian's mind, about an incident that occurred in Scar's base within the earlier weeks they've been living together.

  He stopped and looked at the poorly made wooden replica of his own face on the wall where he used to cover up the damage of the explosion. As soon as Scar walked in from behind, his eyes were wide as saucers as he gaped at the terrible sight.

  "Oh! Oh- What in the world?!" Scar yelled, jaw hanging in surprise as he looked at Grian.

  "Uh..." Grian averted his gaze with a huff as he scratched his cheek with a finger whilst Scar was looking at some of the damage to his floor, that were made out of Smithing tables by the wooden Grian from his peripheral vision. "There was an accident—"

  "Oh, no!" Scar stared at the wooden face and exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

  "I didn't know how to fix it—"

  "Oh, my gosh! There's a freaking cookie back here! What the heck?" Scar intercepted as he chuckled.

  "That's not a cookie, that's my face!" Grian blinked a few times before he retorted.

  "Yeah, you look like a cookie." Scar looked back at Grian as he commented with a normal voice.

  "No, I don't." Grian furrowed his brows as he mumbled.

  "You look like a chocolate chip cookie and a delicious one at that, Grian." Scar smirked as he moved his brows up and down.

  "I appreciate that." Grian stammered before replying as he walked down the ladder, leading him towards the ground floor with Scar following suit. "Well, basically—" Scar snickered. "—the problem is, you haven't lit up your base as per usual. And—"

  "Excuse me, mister." Scar intercepted as he raised a brow whilst stopping on the ladder.

  "—creepers spawn in here—"

  "It's called mood lighting." Scar stepped down the ladder to face Grian with his arms crossed.

  "Moo—" Grian chuckled. "It's called ‘mood lighting’. It's called creeper spawning." He imitated what Scar told him in a mocking tone as he fondly rolled his eyes.

  "Dude, I'm trying to create a vibe here." Scar stepped forward as he retorted.

  "Is the vibe small explosions?" Grian remarked sarcastically when he looked back on the deck filled with barrels behind him and chuckled, hearing Scar doing the same from upstairs.

  Looking back at that memory makes Grian huff fondly on just how chaotic that small exchange was.

  Grian stared at Mumbo who's standing a few metres away from him whilst holding a flint and steel, after what seemed to be an obvious failed attempt at setting squid on fire to bend his own rules and keep his 'peace, love, and plants' thing.

  He huffed and heard his communicator ring, only to see a new message from Mumbo.

  "'Unrelated note.'" Grian read the first message out loud. "'Do you have any ink?'" He laughed as he planted his hands to his knees.

  Speaking of Mumbo, that reminds him of a funny discovery earlier this week.

  Grian was minding his business, flying back and forth to gather the necessary materials for his mountain as usual until something red caught his eye. He perched on a nearby tree to get a better view, adjusted his new gold monocle on his left eye to prevent it from falling. He used this instead of his usual eyeglasses in order for him to match the theme of his G-train but considering how hard it was to see from this and how hassle it was to keep it on his face, he might have to toss this sooner than later.

  He moved his gaze towards the red thing that distracted him from his work, only to stare at it in surprise.

  Was he seeing things or was this what he thought this was?

  "Now I know for a fact... Mumbo has never played Among Us. But don't you think his base looks..." Grian mused as he continued to stare at the layout on the floor that looked awfully like the red character from Among Us. "...a little suspicious? Did he do this on purpose?" He inhaled. "Honestly, I-I've been wracking my brains at some point." He glided and landed safely on the ground.

  "I'm like 'Mumbo's never played Among Us and has never showed any interest in it yet somehow, he made this'." He walked around in place as he ranted. "It's pretty su—" Grian flapped his wings to propel himself and swiftly flew to his base on the right. "I mean, he called my base a couple of strawberry laces." He landed on top of what he started building to form his mountain and stared at the two red wavy layout lines on the floor.

  "Which, okay. Yeah, it's clearly a path but then—" He stopped himself as he turned to look and pointed at Mumbo's layout again from beside his base with his brows furrowed. "—he makes this."

  Sus.

  It's never a dull moment here on Hermitcraft.

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* :☆?. ───

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Grian flaps his wings to boost himself in mid-air but all of a sudden, everything goes black, causing him to yelp and stops progressing. He hovers his hands ahead of him in reflex until they reach an object resting on his face. He removes it, only to see a familiar crimson top hat from a certain tycoon neighbour of his. It must've been blown away by the strong gust of wind just a second ago.

  Well, it's an opportunity to see what Scar has been up to and with a snicker, he swoops in towards a new wagon that seems to be a pristine white hotel with various things attached to it, with the man himself standing beside it.

  "Delivery!" Grian flies by and drops the hat above Scar, making his scarred friend flinch in surprise when it lands exactly on top of his head.

  Perfect aim as always.

  Grian's eyes blow wide at the discovery of what he just saw. Scar's roots are darker than his signature chestnut hair. Does that mean he dyes his hair? But what for?

  His excitement dies down instantly when he lands on the ground as Scar's roots remind him of the same hair nesting white bunny ears. He shudders and vigorously shakes his head, hoping to disrupt the image in his head. He can feel a hand tapping on his shoulder, causing him to jolt violently and turns to the person behind him as his wings flare from his back, whilst his thoughts are filled with nothing but threat threat threat must kill threat die threat kill or be killed—

  "Grian? Are you okay? You just froze and turned pale for a second there." He is met with Scar's face as his brows furrowed in concern, heart calming down as his wings fold.

  "I-I'm fine, Scar. Thanks." Grian replies with a strained smile. "So, what's going on with your new build? Did someone steal a hotel building and attached it to your wagon or something?" He changes the topic immediately and fondly huffs at the scenery.

  Scar snorts, "Well, you see I—that's exactly what happened here!" He snickers. "A hotel owner is searching for their hotel at this very moment."

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* :☆?. ───

  Scar blinks his eyes open, only to see nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  He tries to move his limbs and turn his head sideways to observe his surroundings, but he's not sure whether he's moving them at all. He can't see anything.

  Is he even moving? Is he even blinking? Is he even breathing?

  There's nothing for Scar to do but stay still in this cold void. Technically, it's not cold when he can't feel anything while he's in this place, wherever this is.

  Okay, he remembers finishing building a new wagon, keeping the excess items back to his mess of a storage in Lanbo, and... Yes! He went to bed and rested after a long day of work! Whew, problem solved.

  No, it isn't.

  He still needs to get out of this place.

  Wait, is he dead? Did something happen while he was asleep? That explains why he's in the void, alone. Is this the afterlife? If it is, it sure is boring, if you ask him. He moves his head upwards to stare at what's above him (at least he thinks that's what he's doing), only to see a bright light coming out of a hole by the pitch-black ceiling.

  Huh, did he somehow fall in the Boatem hole while he was asleep? Oh, man. All his effort of surviving this long (apart from his items) of barely catching himself before he falls to inevitable death goes to waste. He drags a sigh, feeling suddenly irritated at his situation.

  Seriously, what's going on? What's he doing here, stuck in the middle of the void or something? He can feel a slight pain in his forehead area, so he assumes that he's furrowing his brows for a long amount of time. No, no, no. If he gets mad now, he'll never get a clear head to figure a way out of his predicament. So, Scar brings his hands towards his cheeks and slaps them as hard as he can, only to jolt violently when he's suddenly sitting in his bedroom.

  He's... back.

  What just happened?

  He's so confused!

  After the weirdest thing Scar has experienced in Hermitcraft happened, he plans to distract himself by working again despite his body feeling like he's holding the world on his shoulders. He exhales harshly through his nose, scratching his head vigorously as he walks to the iSoar and buys himself yet another elytra. As he opens the birch door, he's met with Impulse's bright smile who currently has a huge purple bow tie.

  "Oh! Scar! It's so good to see you! What brings you to iSoar this early in the morning? Increase your rocket stocks?" Impulse waves his free hand as he beams, holding a Shulker box between the other and his hip.

  "I need, uh, fresh elytra 'coz I lost my last one to..." Scar exhales. "...the Boatem hole the other day."

  "Again? Ooh, that's tough." Impulse closes an eye with a grimace. "Well, you're in luck! I just finished restocking my sales after another round of End busting." Impulse steps aside as he smiles again.

  What's with him, being this gleeful this early in the morning?

  Flood the place.

  "Thanks." Scar deadpans as he walks to a chest to see it filled with elytras.

  Mess up the chests. Throw in some junk.

  Steal them all.

  Scar opens his Inventory Bag while he can hear Impulse talking in the background, fetching himself twenty diamonds in order to pay for the pair of artificial wings. Hmm, he should probably buy a stack of rockets now that he's here since he's running out, anyway. So, he gets another diamond before closing the small pouch and straps it back to his waist.

  He scoffs silently as he leans his diamond head cane to the wall and straps the elytra behind him, having a slight issue of doing it successfully when someone is distracting behind him.

  "Can you shut up for one second, candy man?" Scar yells, standing stiff in place once realizes what he's done and twirls to meet Impulse's wide eyes, tense shoulders, and gaping trembling jaw.

  Uh, oh.

  "Oh... Sorry, Scar." Impulse's shoulders slump as he presses his lips into a flat line.

  "Impulse, I'm so—"

  "No, no! It's fine. I'm sorry that I disturbed you." Impulse intercepts and strains a smile as he walks backwards, hands hovering in front of him in surrender. "Well, enjoy your shopping at iSoar where the appearance may seem like an eyesore, but I assure you your shopping experience will be a bright one!" He fully steps outside as he twists his free wrist before shutting the door in front of him.

  He assumes there's something more than a catchy pun there.

  Good going, Scar!

  You ruined someone's day with your attitude. Should he apologize? He should, right? It's the right thing to do in this situation based on his years of experience of interacting with people.

  But he didn't. Instead, Scar beelines to his underground villager hall, improving each villager's trades to drown his head with something else. From the corner of his eye, he spots the signature red sweater of a certain strawberry blonde man who's wearing an ear to ear grin from inside the crowd.

  At least Grian's magic trick perks him back after the unexpected foul mood.

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* :☆?. ───

  Another successful sale with the Swaggon because of a wonderful salesman such as himself. Thankfully, Impulse seemed to forgive Scar back at his friend's unfinished factory after his unexpected outburst. With a sigh of relief, he limps to the bathroom (he can’t have his cane getting wet and risks rusting the sheathed sword) towards the porcelain sink. His eyes blow wide at the sight, a reflection of himself (ignoring the dark bags circling under his contrasting bright emerald eyes from the overwork and definitely not from night terrors) with dark colored roots opposed to his chestnut hair.

  Oh, crud.

  He must've forgotten to dye them again. With the top hat, he constantly forgets to retouch them compared to the previous times when he doesn't have an accessory that will completely cover his head. Before he realizes, his fingers are already between his hair and begins to pull them with a scowl.

  Why does he have this terrible hair? Why can't he have a lighter brown color instead of this darker one that looks like poop? He envies his other friends' locks, especially Grian's when he's got the lightest hair of them all in Boatem. He likes Impulse's one the longest, which made him dye his own into a similar tone in order for him to forget the original shade.

  A man with a pair of white rabbit ears grins in his direction instead of his own reflection, holding a bloody knife with one hand as he fiddles with the wooden handle while his bloodshot eyes continue to make eye contact, sending chills on Scar's spine.

  He shakes his head vigorously and shut his eyes tightly before slowly prying them open. When he stares at the mirror, the man before is gone and his rough reflection is back. He sighs internally.

  You're imagining things again, he convinces himself.

  Scar doesn't have a clue the exact reason why he hates his chocolate hair, but he knows that he doesn't want to see it again if he can help it. He should also cut it now that he’s here. He immediately starts to fetch the hair dye from one of his cabinets, a pair of scissors, a small container, and a brush.

  This is going to be a long night.