Elsewhere on this dark night, a small shadow cloaked in a robe ran through back alleys, splashing across puddles of rainwater.
Exhaustion and impatience had destabilized the figure’s pace. With shoes full of moisture, it was inevitable that the figure would slip. Unable to regain balance, the shade magnificently tumbled, rolled, and slid down the filthy road before finally colliding with a garbage pile. Old drenched newspapers and rusted empty cans were sent flying everywhere.
Footsteps were drawing near. The shadow rose from the mountain of garbage. Quickly glancing to each side, it tried to sprint into a narrow alleyway—then fell forward, pain flaring in one ankle. There would be no further running from here.
A decrepit trashcan had fallen right next to it. The figure crawled into it without hesitation. The can wasn’t large, but the shade pushed its diminutive body inside and closed the lid from within.
Enshrouded in darkness, it eliminated its presence as the slow, resounding footsteps drew closer. The robed figure tightly held its shaking body.
The footsteps stopped. Its heart felt like it was about to as well. Whatever was outside stayed in the same spot, as if searching for something.
The figure couldn’t stop its body from shivering. Even if it tried to restrain itself with its hands, those hands were trembling even more violently.
The footsteps started again, approaching closer. They stopped right beside the trash can.
Aah…
The shade knew it was over. In resignation, it took a small knife out from beneath its cloak. If running was no longer an option, it’d need to fight. No matter how desperate the situation might be, giving up also wasn’t an option. After all, from the outset it had known a happy ending wasn’t possible. That being the case, it at least wanted to go out fighting to its last breath.
There was a huge bang as a hand opened the trash can lid, cutting through the enclosed darkness with light. The shadowy figure tightened its grip on the knife’s handle.
“So it is you, Rita!”
“…Huh?”
The strange, unexpected voice made the shadow—the girl’s—entire body freeze. A kind woman was looking down at her, smiling joyfully.
She was utterly flabbergasted. It’s been so very long since I was last called that.
Her name, to be precise, was Marguerite. Normally she preferred to just be Margo. The last time she’d been called Rita was…probably when she had walked among the people of the Island No. 4? It went without saying that the nickname wasn’t typically used on other islands.
Outside of that, as far as she could remember, there had been only one person who called her by that name.
“Miss…Odette…?” Margo Medicis whispered the name of the woman.
“Oh, thank goodness you remember me. I’m so glad!”
The woman thrust her hand into the trash can and grabbed Margo’s body, holding her up in the air like an abandoned cat. Paper scraps and lint rustled and fell as she dangled.
“Ever since I heard you were alive, I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”
“No…way. You’re…lying.”
She’d believed that she was completely alone. She thought she’d lost everything connected to her on that hellish day the Elpis Collective collapsed. To think a day would come when she’d meet someone who remembered her name.
“It seems like you were frightened. I’m very sorry for being so late.”
Her gentle voice broke the dam. Everything Margo had been enduring up until now came bursting out at once.
“Ode—Miss Odette, I…I…”
“You’re fine now.”
It didn’t matter that she’d been covered in trash or had hurt her leg. All those things vanished utterly.
The emotions she’d accumulated over the past five years had already hardened into one large, stubborn block, so no words could express how she felt. Instead, Margo just hugged the woman, sobbing and crying, her tears and snot and who knows what else scattering about.
The woman’s name was Odette Gundakar.
But she’d changed her surname when she got married. She’d been born into the Jessmans, a distinguished clan of the old Elpis Collective.
Odette was the older sister of Margo’s fiancé Feodor Jessman by blood. In other words, Margo’s own future sister-in-law.
She cried and she cried until she was tired of crying and finally calmed down. As they started to walk down the back alley, holding hands, Margo began to speak little by little.
“Miss Odette, I was…in the past…terrified of you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I couldn’t understand you. But I was wrong. If we’d only talked properly, I’d have…found out you’re nice. And…”
She lifted her face, staring straight at Odette. “I’m so happy…you’re alive. Thank you.”
“…You’re welcome.” Odette didn’t meet her eyes and continued to stare in the direction of the orange sunset. It was like she was embarrassed.
“Hmm. Or is this…that? The power of an imp’s eyes that makes anyone friends with you.”
“Oh…no, that’s not likely.”
“Yes…I…sorry for the question.”
Odette shook her head affectionately. “Not only do I not need to use that on you, Rita, it’s hard to use and there’s huge risks that come with it, so I only use it if it needs to be used. Besides, if I don’t kill the person I’ve charmed as soon as possible, it can be life-threatening.”
“Huh? Kill, you said?”
“O-oh, no, I’m sorry, please forget about that. Silly me, what was I saying?” Odette laughed, fluttering her hand. “Oh, but Rita?”
“Yes.”
“If. And I’m saying if…”
“Yes.”
“If, besides myself, Feodor had also survived, would you…like to see him?”
Margo’s feet stopped. Odette stopped next to her. She spent more than a minute thinking about it.
“I can’t,” was her eventual flat reply. “I’ve done too many bad things. Meeting Feodor is a…right I no longer have. If we meet, he will hate me. I…never, ever, want to be hated by him.”
“I see.” Odette nodded and said nothing more.
That night, in Odette’s hotel room, Margo had fallen into a rare deep sleep, dead to the world. For the past five years, she had never been able to sleep with the peace of mind of having a person she could trust by her side.
Odette’s fingers gently caressed a delicate white cheek.
“So. I’m kind, am I?”
As if to mock the sleeping girl, she twisted her lips.
“What a truly foolish girl. As if the kindness of a lying imp could ever be real.”