She finally figured out she was in a restless sleep.
There’d never been someone to rely on. After all, that was what her mother, as matriarch of the house, had decided for her. In that household, not a single soul dared object to the matriarch’s decision. Not her father. Not her grandparents. Not her brother. Not her sister. All of them smiled, nodded and obeyed her mother.
Good job. Now you can be happy. Those words of encouragement dropped from the lips of her family members. After all, this was a marriage of convenience between a seven-year-old girl and a ten-year-old boy.
The girl’s arms and legs were covered with dense fur-like hair. She had two delicate triangular ears atop her skull and six inconspicuous whiskers on her face. An incomplete ailuranthrope, a half-breed—with a flat snout and small eyes, she was no semifer, yet remained far from being featureless.
She led a lonely life from the moment of her birth. To be born neither featureless nor semifer into a featureless family with a long and illustrious lineage was to know no love. For seven years she’d been neglected and treated like damaged goods. As she couldn’t be loved, her marriage was one of convenience alone.
Of course, a young girl like her had no idea what that meant. She wasn’t even given the details. All she knew was that she was to meet a stranger that day and be forced to live with them for a while.
She was terrified. She was resentful. After all, anyone who looked her way was disgusted by her. Depending on their moods, sometimes she was hit or kicked. She’d always tried to hide in the shadows because of that. It was for the best—if nobody saw her, they wouldn’t do anything. So why was she being dragged out into the spotlight? Who was she being dragged towards?
Carrying those worries in her heart and without a single shred of courage to cling to, she walked ever closer to her marriage. In such a manner, she met a certain boy.
To cut straight to the chase, she fell for him at first sight.
The boy kept his composure pretty well. From his perspective, he was looking at a featureless who didn’t look like a featureless, a semifer who wasn’t quite a semifer. Even so, he didn’t show her scorn or contempt. Neither did he show the smallest hint of curiosity, treating her like any other kid her age.
That was enough. Or perhaps—that was just what she needed. For the first time in her life, she could laugh, cry, and rely on someone else like a normal girl. She was happy just knowing she could do so.
Her mother was glad to hear they got along as well. “Those imps really do enjoy coddling cats and dogs,” she once said happily. The girl didn’t entirely understand, but she could figure out her mother was pleased.
She knew marriage was a promise to always be together. Engagements, therefore, were promises to promise to always be together. A child’s childish comprehension.
In truth, the girl’s family wished to tactfully offload a troublesome burden by “giving” their daughter to the boy’s family, whereas the boy’s family aimed to establish connections with them through marriage. In short, a mutually beneficial transaction using the girl as a bargaining chip.
However, young children cared not for the affairs of adults. To the girl, the important thing was that she was able to meet the boy she was fond of once every week. Her family (notwithstanding their feelings) at least recognized that much, and even gave their support.
He was a kind boy who allowed her to say what made her happy and accepted all her tantrums with a smile. He knew all sorts of random trivia and would teach her fresh and exciting things every time they met. She thought that if she was together with someone like him, she could have an amazing and fortunate life, or something like that. For once, the clouds of her life had parted to allow rays of hope to shine down. That was the start of a very happy time for her.
Once again, she realized she’d dozed off. She was standing in a splendid gazebo surrounded by vibrant flowers next to a beautiful lake that mirrored the sunshine. This place no longer existed in the world. Yet once again she saw this scenery.
This is definitely a dream. It always is.
Underneath the gazebo were two children. One was a young girl around eight years old. She took off her hooded cardigan, allowing the sun to hit her exposed arms. She was almost like an ailuranthrope except for her ears or arms, covered by hair rather than fur. The other child was a silver-haired boy who seemed about three years older—eleven years old. His seemingly-sincere eyes were purple and slitted, and his other characteristics were, as he’d informed her, typical of the renowned liars known as imps. It’d be best to be cautious around him.
This was around when…when he told me that. I laughed and called him a liar…I think. I remember how he looked back then.
Then and now, he had a complex expression like a mix of frustration and relief at the same time, typical of an imp with a little too much pride in himself. With a poker face like that, he’d never be able to tell a lie and get away with it.
From the point she stood, she could only see each child’s side profile. They were seated facing each other across a stone table. On the table were shogi pieces lined up halfheartedly.
Ah, how nostalgic.
It was a game that simulated the battlefields of legend. He’d claimed he was “pretty good” at it and wanted to play with her. Wanting to spend a little more time together, she’d agreed and listened to him explaining all the rules, painstakingly studying them afterwards to make him happy. Bit by bit, her near-zero win rate slowly climbed till they were evenly matched. Before she knew it, her skills had surpassed his.
On that day she had played exceptionally well and crushed her opponent with ease, securing an overwhelming victory. Initially overjoyed, she later became a little flustered and apologized to him. The boy rocked back in surprise, then laughed suddenly. He was glad to see her skill at the game. Of course, due to his pride, he didn’t want to lose again. He vowed to become stronger and snatch victory away from her—
Yeah. That’s what the liars called imps do. He lied over and over again.
He never had the chance to win again.
Soon after that day, their time together ended when the Elpis Incident occurred. That terrible Beast, Materno or whatever it was called, abruptly cut short the future she wished for.
The boy who lived back then laughed, and the young girl laughed too. They shone like the sun.
I can’t approach those two. My legs won’t take me any closer. These memories are too bright for me. I want them to stay bright forever. I shouldn’t reach out or get closer. I can’t let it reach out to me. I mustn’t tarnish it.
The boy raised his head and glanced about as if he’d noticed something.
He’s looking this way.
He had a puzzled look on his face. He opened his mouth. He said her name—
The pain was back.
Margo Medicis slowly opened her eyes. There was a light glaring down at her.
“This place…”
Her own sleep-talking had woken her up. She was in a room of metal and stone, characteristic of Lyell architecture. When worst came to worst, this was the last, most desperate, hiding spot she had available. She’d just barely managed to escape, slipping through alleyways while dodging her pursuers before finally losing consciousness.
Margo’s side twitched with pain. She twisted her face, propping herself up. “Am I…still alive?”
She looked at her wound. While she couldn’t do anything beyond basic first aid, at least she could staunch the bleeding. If nothing else, it didn’t seem immediately life-threatening. She moved to the window and peeked through the curtains. Usually there were few people outside, so it was difficult to tell, but currently everything appeared to be calm and peaceful. At least, there wasn’t any sign of that dreadful black form anywhere.
“The Bottle certainly broke…”
The glass sphere holding the Eleventh Beast had shattered and it’d been released. The worst had happened. There couldn’t be anything done to hold it back. It was impossible.
“Maybe…the Winged Guard did something?”
She couldn’t think of anything else. She shook her head, trying to dispel the anxiety in her heart.
The Winged Guard has a way to defeat Croyance.
She hadn’t expected that to be true, nor had she even thought it was possible. After all, the Winged Guard had failed to save Island No. 39. They failed to save the things and people they were supposed to save.
It can’t be helped. That was what she’d believed then. No conceivable way to repel the Beasts existed. Whether it was the Winged Guard or anyone else, no one could have prevented that tragedy.
But…
Maybe that wasn’t true.
If the Winged Guard already had some way of fighting Croyance, then maybe—just maybe—that meant they’d purposefully abandoned an entire island? The mere thought of such a possibility kindled her fury, burning like a smoldering ember in her chest.
…Let’s stop. This is nothing more than venting.
Margo sighed, stepping away from the window. She picked up a mask off the nearby table. It was wooden and painted white, from the Undead…Lunarlight…the Remembrance Festival. A tool to bring the living and the dead closer together. Wearing the mask allowed you to become anyone. By being neither dead nor alive, you were an existence that was neither here nor there. But being something meant you could meet anyone you wished to meet, or so the legend went.
Although it’d just served as a convenient tool that allowed her to hide in the city, right now she was glad the legend existed.
The earlier dream returned to her.
She’d met the person she wanted so dearly to meet. She’d gotten to see the face of her betrothed once again and seen the smile of that boy she loved so much, who’d tragically lost his life on that day back then.
“…Thank you, Feodor,” Margo murmured. She put on her mask, shouldered her cape and stepped out of the room.
I’m still alive. As long as I’m still alive, there’s something I’ve got to do.
“Even if it was in a dream, I’m glad I got to see you again…”