Requested by Sunshine.

The heavy scent of incense and old parchment usually defined the mornings in the Ministry, but today, the air tasted of ozone and scorched earth. The summoning circle in the lower cathedral had barely stopped glowing before the newest addition to the Clergy’s musical arsenal made his presence known.

His name was Phantom, and he was unlike the more stoic Ghouls you had mentored in the past. He was... bizarre.

You stood in the center of the rehearsal hall, clutching a clipboard that felt increasingly useless. Phantom did not walk into the room; he erupted into it. He moved with a jittery, feline grace, his long, spade-tipped tail lashing behind him like a whip. He wore the high-collared black uniform of the era, but he looked as though he wanted to tear it off or set it on fire.

"So," He chirped, his voice a rasping melody that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned into your personal space, his face inches from yours. "You are the one tasked with keeping me on a leash? Papa IV mentioned you had... patience."

You didn't flinch, though the raw energy radiating off him was intimidating. You looked him in the eye and told him that your job was to ensure he did not accidentally burn the Ministry down before the world tour began.

Phantom threw his head back and laughed, a loud, explosive sound that echoed off the vaulted ceilings. He suddenly leaped onto a nearby mahogany table, crouching there like a predator. His fingers, tipped with sharp blackened nails, drummed a frantic rhythm against the wood.

"The earthly plane is so heavy! So slow!" He exclaimed, his yellow eyes darting around the room with manic intensity. "I want to play. I want to see the crowds scream. Why must we sit in these dusty halls and talk of 'decorum'?"

You explained that the Clergy required a certain level of theatrical precision. You told him that even a demon of his caliber had to learn the nuances of the ritual if he wanted to please the Emeritus bloodline.

His mood shifted in a heartbeat. The playful spark died, replaced by a cold, distrustful glare. He hopped down from the table and prowled around you in a slow circle. His tail twitched with agitation.

"Precision," He hissed, his charisma curdling into something sharp and dangerous. "Or control? I was summoned to bring the fire, not to be a puppet."

You remained calm, meeting his gaze with steady resolve. You told him that the greatest performances required a balance of chaos and direction. You pointed out that even the fiercest flame needed a hearth to keep from being extinguished by the wind.

Phantom stopped his pacing. He tilted his head, studying you as if he were seeing you for the first time. The tension in his shoulders dropped slightly, and a wicked, crooked grin returned to his face.

"A hearth," He repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He suddenly lunged forward, not to attack, but to snatch the pen from your hand with lightning speed. He twirled it between his fingers before handing it back with a mocking bow. "Very well, teacher. Show me how to behave in this dull, physical world. But don't expect me to stay quiet for long."

You sighed, realizing that your time with Phantom would be less like teaching a student and more like trying to bottle a lightning storm. You gestured toward the instruments at the far end of the hall and told him it was time to begin.

He did not walk; he sprinted, his laughter trailing behind him like a threat and a promise all at once. The Ministry was certainly going to be louder with him around.