"Vale Nerine," a flustered voice muttered, "that's all we could get from him."
The calm hum of the black Mercedes-Benz lulled Sylvester into a state of contemplation.
His eyes shifted to the figure beside him, but all they could make out was a layer of soft black hair that fell gently over his neck.
As if possessing the sharp instinct of a feline, the male caught his eyes and a brilliant smile bloomed on his face, startling Sylvester.
He looked away swiftly, a faint blush staining his cheeks.
The rest of the ride was silent and no one uttered a single word until arrival.
"We're here," the driver announced before alighting to attend to them.
Sylvester nodded at him politely while stepping out of the vehicle before reaching out to Vale.
Vale's eyes widened and then he smiled abashedly, "You're very kind, sir."
"It's nothing," Sylvester muttered, feeling awkward; the excessive politeness was too much even for him.
Vale's eyes darted briefly across the large environment of the luxurious apartment with an equally deluxe penthouse towering over it.
The surroundings held more of a floral beauty, sprawled with flowerbeds, trimmed grasses, and a couple of dwarfed trees.
The driver, after dropping them off, drove off to the side, which confirmed Vale's assumptions of where the garage was located.
And amid the Porte-cochère was a beautiful fountain that glimmered like crystals under the beaming sunlight.
"Let's go," Sylvester's voice snapped Vale out of his daze.
He blushed lightly, embarrassed from being caught ogling at the enticing view surrounding them.
Nodding in response, he followed after the broad-backed figure who suddenly stopped, leading to an unintended collision.
Sylvester turned with an apologetic gaze, "You can take a walk wherever you please later but for now, let's get you settled down. Yes?"
A charming set of dimples flourished along with his smile and Vale felt himself redden even more.
"Okay."
He followed the male inside and was left more bedazzled by the view. Everything was simply too sleek, almost like the apartment had been ordered from a futuristic sci-fi enterprise rather than being built by human engineers.
They stepped into the equally stylish elevator and within seconds arrived at their last destination.
After that, he was separated from the charming yet polite male with two dimples and led to his new room by a servant.
***
"Zane, can you stop fretting? It seems you've forgotten he's a cake. Even if he's my type, that disqualifies him. Besides, why is it impossible for you to believe that I, indeed, did pick him up without any ulterior motive?"
A slender pair of milk-chocolate fingers parted the pages of a thin file with casual motions, a crisp sound resounding with each turn.
Suddenly, he stopped.
"I've already said it, I have no ulterior motive. Besides, did we not promise to ensure the complete rehabilitation of every single victim? I'm the most suitable in this case, after all; among the others, is there anyone more suitable for socialization other than me?"
Sylvester paused then chuckled, "Or, will you hand him over to Ace?"
His brown eyes held a tinge of laughter despite the curve of his lips, which formed a thin line expressing neutrality.
He reached out to the file again, racing through it once more before flinging it across the nightstand.
"You've finally come to your senses, I see, and no, there won't be any issues. Quit being so nosy."
The call finally ended and Sylvester plopped down on the bed with a sigh.
Today was a bit exciting.
An acquaintance of his had come complaining about a certain cake in the rehabilitation center that showed zero reactions to all rehabilitation methods.
The situation of the cake was odd, to say the least, adding to the fact that their files were completely gone; almost nothing could be done to ensure progress.
He was a cake when rescued, and remembered nothing else but his name. While there were indeed cakes recorded to suffer from dissociation due to extreme trauma, Vale was simply different.
He was always silent and had a blank gaze of complete indifference within his eyes, the doctor had reported; all rehabilitation sections were passed with a blank gaze and pretty much nothing was working until the "exposure" therapy.
However, even his reaction during that section was very confusing.
While some cakes reacted viscerally, others calmly and others a bit similar to Stockholm syndrome, Vale's reaction was solely different.
The doctor had said it was similar to Stockholm but with a twist. Apparently, his dissociation was terminated whenever he was in the presence of a fork.
His attitude was like that of one having fully recovered, and he scored excellently across all marks, indicating he was ready for a "normal" life.
And then it vanished as soon as the fork was gone.
Not only that, they observed a couple of other things, including that:
The individual didn't matter, all they had to be was a fork.
Forks had a high attraction to him which they confirmed was quite unnatural for them.
Additionally, his taste and smell changed with his emotions… and that he didn't seem to have a base flavor like most cakes, or rather, he did, but they were a mix of all eight tastes.
In the words of the doctor, he feared that the Bakery had, in fact, somehow succeeded in making the "perfect cake" and that Vale was the one.
As for why he was found in such a remote branch and wasn't introduced to the main branch before the Bakery was erased, no one knew.
So, Vale Nerine remained an anomalous individual that the doctors couldn't find a way to cure.
That was how it was though, before he, Sylvester, interfered.
His thought process was quite simple: perhaps what he needed was the real thing rather than a stimulation within those suffocating walls.
The doctors were a bit reluctant, which contrasted with the eager attitude of Vale's main doctor. And after a bit of pondering and enticement by Vale's main doctor and him, they signed the documents for the release of Vale.
Sylvester stood up after wallowing on the bed for a while, having decided to take a quick shower, and began shedding off his clothes.
Truly, Vale was a pitiful person. Every other cake was long gone—cured, perfectly integrated into society, and living a "normal" life.
Perhaps that was why Zane, despite his extreme reluctance, permitted Sylvester's intervention.
If there was one thing that a psychotic perfectionist hated, it was an unfinished job.