The ceiling fan spun lazily above Daisy’s head. Despite being wearing only a tank top and boxers, the heat had woken them up in the night. It was always hard to sleep in the hotter conics.

A spot bloomed on the wall. Blue.

… Blood?

Daisy jolted but found themself heavy, stuck to the spot and unable to move. Something pushed through the spot. A hand? A face? A mask. Daisy had seen that mask before. The figure slowly crawled through, crouching as it moved. It towered over the bed. Something blue dripped down onto Daisy’s forehead. Definitely blood. The front of it’s attire, colorful and traditional, was stained with it.

“What is it that you desire?” it asked.

Daisy began to squirm. They recognized that mask.

“Do you desire wealth? Fame? Magnificence? No...”

It was a familiar symbol. They had seen it on key chains, nestled in the windows of businesses, hung from rear view mirrors, a prop in school plays. The Glorious Spirit of Luster was one of the more commonly venerated Glories in Factory.

Daisy never found the appeal. “I don’t want anything! Get out.” they hissed, suddenly unfrozen.

It shrunk back. “Are your desires granted, then?” it asked, with a still, serene voice. “Your hunger satiated? Your thirst quenched?”

Daisy was perfectly content. Their face wrinkled. “... What?”

While only a mask, the figure’s smile seemed to grow. “May joy be upon you.”

Daisy jolted awake, sweating slightly, and noticed that the ceiling fan wasn’t on at all. They crawled out of bed and stumbled towards the kitchen. The cold tile was grounding.

As they made their way to the fridge, Daisy noticed an odd shadow on the door. They turned to the window and saw a large moth—no, a butterfly—on the glass. It was blue and yellow and deeply offputting.

They reached towards the window. “Hello!” a voice rang out like a bell.

Of course. There was no sign of anyone else here, so the butterfly it was. Daisy narrowed their eye. “This is some sort of stress dream, right?”

Laughter, sharp and light. This did nothing to lift Daisy’s unease.

“Are you happy?” it asked.

They frowned. “What do you think? I’m being assailed by creatures in my own home. Are you here to torment me or—?”

“I am glee and revelry,” it answered proudly, “I am simple bliss. I am here for the sake of joy and laughter!”

“… Right. Could you be a little more vague for me? What are you exactly?”

“Resilient joy. Glorious joy! A spirit of the youth. Happy chance.”

Daisy tilted their head. They did not feel that they were particularly youthful. “I—ah, hm… Okay.” They took a step closer to the window. “You’ll have to forgive me for my skepticism, but if that were true, why would you be here of all places?”

“When was the last time you were happy?” Its wings swayed gently.

Daisy reached toward the butterfly again. “I don’t dwell on my emotions one way or the other.”

Quickly, they slammed their hand against the glass, crushing the butterfly beneath their palm. Nothing but a smudge! Broken wings stuck to Daisy’s hand.

Eugh.

They turned to wash their hand in the sink and found that they were no longer in the kitchen. Somehow they were suddenly sat down on the couch of a... familiar location. This wasn’t their house at all.

It was an ugly yellow apartment. An unfortunate place to be.

Unfamiliar, though, were the framed and taxidermied bugs that lined the walls. Daisy glared at a set of pinned butterflies. They curled up, situated between… themself, and worse, Dr. Sullivan Passer. It was only natural, after all, this was his apartment.

A burst of static. Whatever the TV had been showing was replaced with Daisy’s own—well, not their face—but it was their image, obscured with a mask. Joy.

It tilted its head. “Were you happy here?”

How could they have been? Daisy hissed, “Obviously not! I hated this place.”

Freshly divorced without anywhere else to stay, everything had to be bought through Sul— … Passer. Daisy had spent spirals negotiating on his behalf for very little in return. Worst of all, the water boiler barely worked and only gave them two chants worth of hot water to shower.

All in all, it had been a bad deal. They left Factory when they did for a reason.

With horror, Daisy saw themself turn their head and begin to speak. “I, ah, wanted to bring something to your attention—”

There was nothing they wanted less than to see this play out again. It was bad enough in the moment, and witnessing it from the outside would be undoubtedly worse. Nothing and nobody could make them relive this.

Daisy lunged for the television screen and found themself falling through it.

Be patient, for there is more to come!