They were led to the back entrance of a large mansion along the river. The door was a bit small for Margomedari, but he could still manage after bending down and hunching his shoulders slightly.
“Excuse me…”
Following the girl who led them there, they passed through what seemed to be the kitchen, into the living room.
There, upon an inexpensive sofa sat a woman with long, silver hair and purple eyes, her lips curved into a gentle smile. When she saw them, she rose from the sofa and tightly hugged the young girl who had served as their guide.
“Thank you so much, Rita!”
“B…Big Sis Odette, this feels…really uncomfortable…”
“I’m so, so sorry for asking this of you. Was there any danger? Was it scary? No strangers came up to you and tried to talk to you, I hope?”
“H-hey, stop it!” Embarrassed, the girl squirmed from her grasp and darted out of the room. The woman watched her leave, then turned back to face them.
“Slipped through my fingers, so she did.” She put her tongue out slightly and grinned.
“Uh…”
“It’s been a long time, you two. I’m so glad to see you both in good spirits.” She smiled gently again. “Oh, that was a relative’s kid. Honestly I really did want to fetch you myself, but it wasn’t very convenient at the time, so I had her go in my place. But let’s be frank, the two of you wouldn’t have followed me so easily had I come personally, right?” She spoke rapidly, as if she were spinning some kind of excuse.
“Miss Jessman.”
“Ah, sorry, I don’t go by that name anymore. I’m now Odette Gundakar. I got married back in my hometown some time ago, so I took on my husband’s surname.”
“Huh, really?!” Nygglatho was surprised.
Odette Gundakar, or Odette Jessman as Nygglatho knew her by previously, was an imp and a fellow student from her school days, and a rather infamous one at that. It sounds kinda weird, but on the surface, she looked…every part the prim and proper lady. But back then, the student body gave her scary nicknames like “Witch” or “The Devil” (none of which were exaggerated in the least), for she was a twisted, malicious woman.
She lied as naturally as she breathed, and deceived as naturally as she spoke. Heaven only knows how many had fallen prey to her superficial kindness and earnestness, only to be left in bitter regret.
To think there was even a man eccentric enough to stand by her side; that she would have attained normal marital bliss. Surely that’s something worth celebrating too, right? Nygglatho thought.
“Congratulations on—”
“By the way, he passed on five years ago.”
“Oh…”
Her fervent blessings were cut off midway. Should I be happy or sad for her? The momentary dilemma made Nygglatho’s head spin, but then she caught herself and realized that her confusion was exactly what Odette wanted to see.
“Miss Jess… Odette, you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?”
“Hehe, that’s right.” Odette grinned wickedly. “Let’s see, it’s been about thirteen years since we last met, no? You’ve grown quite a bit, Nygglatho Astartos, but the way you react is still as adorable as ever.”
“Stop making fun of me, I’ve grown up too! And no more calling me by my father’s name!”
Nygglatho glanced at the unexpectedly quiet Margomedari.
“Gundakar, huh?” He mulled over the surname thoughtfully. Just as she was about to ask what he meant—
“So, want some tea? I remember you being quite fond of the Hydrangea No. 20-something series, right, Nygglatho?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she replied, distracted. “I’m surprised you remember what tea I like.”
“I’m an imp, after all.” Odette placed a kettle on the cylindrical stove. “To deceive someone, you must first know them inside out. What they like or dislike, what their pet peeves are or what they refuse to compromise on…” She adjusted the stove’s flame. “There’s no catch-all hook to trick a person, for every con is tailor-made. Such is the basis of our pride as those who prey on the hearts of others.”
That makes sense. If trolls like herself fed on the flesh of others, imps like Odette preyed on people’s emotions. Similarly, there was no one ultimate way of cooking or seasoning, and it was a point of pride for them to be able to discern the slab of meat before them and best prepare it for consumption. Honestly, I can’t help but feel that we’re kinda alike.
“I lied, hehe.”
Hey, give me back my validation!
“Though of course, I only lied because I kinda felt you’d fall for it, Nygglatho. Listen up, lies are things you tell only when you know the other fellow like the palm of your hand. Therefore, knowing their fancies and thought patterns is only the beginning. Are we clear?”
“…Crystal.”
She was ill-equipped to handle this woman, Nygglatho firmly believed, feeling as if her soul was draining away with every passing moment. She suddenly thought of Ithea, the most senior living leprechaun. Her whimsical personality and the way she seemed to be both outspoken yet never quite truthful led Nygglatho to feel she was somewhat like Odette.
That kid could probably go head-to-head with this big fat liar… No, if they met, they might just conspire together to make me cry…
Her rather shallow train of thought was suddenly broken by a low, stern voice beside her.
“I have a question for you, Odette Gundakar.” The person whom it belonged to, Margomedari Brompton, had sat himself on the carpet for there were no chairs for his large frame to sit upon.
“What is it?”
“I don’t recall being invited, nor organizing a class reunion. Therefore, us gathering here right now is very, very odd. Why would you be here—no…” He narrowed his single eye, searching for the appropriate words. “In what capacity are you here?”
What’s he on about? Nygglatho was mystified. She didn’t think the difference was so big as to warrant rephrasing his words.
Odette giggled. “As expected of the good doctor.” She drew a slip of paper from the cuff of her coat.
Margomedari’s face paled considerably. “Where did you get this?”
“Obviously from your residence, Doctor. But do forgive me for making your place a bit messy.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I just had no choice, because what’s a lady to do when jostling with others, right? We did beat them to the punch, but if we’d been just one step behind, it would be in the Winged Guard’s claws right now.”
Nygglatho had no idea what the two of them were talking about.
“What are…?”
“Look, before we get to me, let’s go over what you two are facing right now.” Odette sat back on the sofa. “The pursuers are split into two teams—we’ve got the Winged Guard on one end, and an unknown party on the other. Both sides acted to capture Doctor Brompton. We can guess that it’s something to do with the special faerie adjustment techniques Doctor Brompton knows about, yes?”
After mulling it over for a bit, Nygglatho nodded. She didn’t have the full picture, but Odette’s assessment matched up with what she knew.
Meanwhile, Margomedari’s single eye stared straight at Odette, though he remained silent.
“Hey, Doctor, don’t be such a stick in the mud. How many points would you give my guess?”
“I can’t, because I don’t know the answer myself.”
Nygglatho felt he was lying, and if even she could see that, there was no way it eluded the imp in front of her.
“I’ve got a wee little proposal.” Odette leaned forward slightly. “Wanna sell those adjustment methods?”
Margomedari shook his head. “To the remnants of Elpis?”
Huh? Nygglatho froze.
“Ah, so you did know my husband, hmm?”
“He was famous, after all. The Deputy Corps Commander of the Elpis Air Defense Force, whose head the blame for that incident fell upon, and was eventually executed.”
“That’s right, that Gundakar. He was a very impressive man, you know, doing bad things while he stood at the top of the pack, then receiving his last judgment while he burned in the ire of the public eye. It’s a lot like how us imps live, but who would’ve thought a stalla like him would outshine every one of us.” She chuckled. “And so, Doctor, do you think that I’ve inherited his will?”
“It’s a possibility I can’t leave out.”
“Just so, but rest assured. My hometown may be Elpis, but that’s all it is, and I’m my own person, with my loyalties untethered from any group. I might, well, know a few of those you call remnants, but we’re baaarely in contact anymore…”
“Though,” she paused, “that aside, I do have an arrangement with the Winged Empire. And that’s to bring the key to Regule Aire’s security—the dug weapons and their compatible faerie users—back to them.”
“Huh?”
So that means…?
“By the way, those people who were chasing you just now? The ones other than the Winged Guard? Those are my comrades, or the assailants you guys had no clue about. Ah, but just so we’re clear, I didn’t tell them about this place. After all, to deceive others you gotta deceive your friends first.”
She…said all that without batting an eye. And so brazenly too. Nygglatho couldn’t even muster up the energy to be shocked.
“Which means, of course, the ‘unknown party’ I mentioned? I already know what they want. The Winged Empire wishes to hire you, Margomedari Brompton, as a technical consultant. They suspected that you wouldn’t quite relent to force, so they sent me as well.”
“I refuse.”
“Well, I believe there’s room for you to reconsider. At the least, I can assure you that you’d get a warmer welcome as compared to the current Winged Guard.”
Ah, so… A long-overdue question surfaced in Nygglatho’s mind. Doctor Margomedari Brompton is an associate of the Winged Guard and the Orlandry Merchants Alliance. So why were Winged Guard soldiers chasing him? And aiming their guns at the doctor to force him to do his job? Why?
“Since you’ve read the note, you should already know why I refused, don’t you?” Margomedari smiled bitterly. “What we call faerie adjustment actually involves a lot of extraneous steps. If we wanted to, we could have greatly simplified the process, and used an easier, faster method to create more powerful mature faerie soldiers. Anyone who knew this would have chosen that shortcut. Anyone aside from us.”
The cyclops heaved a long, exaggerated sigh and shifted his gaze upwards. Compared to his large frame, the ceiling was far too low. “But going down that path, and that path alone is something I refuse to allow. We cannot let that kind of mature faerie be created anymore.”
“Really? Now that’s what I don’t understand. What could someone like you be so scared of? And those ‘extraneous steps’ you added, what was it for? What problems will there be with mature faerie soldiers who have not gone through that process?”
Margomedari smiled wanly, his next words like a hushed prayer. “So we’re finally touching on that. The Night of Mournen.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of this phrase.”
“It’s better that you don’t. For better or worse, I’ve lived a long time, and those scenes that recorded history bears no witness to are still burned into my mind. And it’s not just me. The six of us who have knowledge of faerie adjustment are all accomplices too. The memories of that night still haunt us till this day—”
“I would like to hear more about that too.” No one knew when he appeared. Everyone’s attention turned to the young man in a black suit who stood by the door. He had short-cropped silver hair and wore tinted glasses which concealed the color of his eyes.
Who is that? He seems around fifteen, about the same age as Tiat and the rest… As Nygglatho’s thoughts shifted to the faeries she would likely never see again, she felt a pang in her heart.
“Feo…dor…?”
Odette Jessman—No, Odette Gundakar—stared at the young man, utterly baffled. It was Nygglatho’s first time seeing that expression on the unflappable woman who always seemed in control.
“Well, fancy that. First time seeing you with that look on your face, sis. Looks like my coming all the way here was at least worth it.” The young man spread his hands and bowed dramatically. “And you two, pleased to meet you. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Odette Gundakar’s younger brother, Feodor Jessman.”
With the widest grin on his face, he theatrically announced: “I am here—”
Fwhieeeee! The whistling of the kettle cut him off, and an awkward silence filled the room.
“Uh, um…” Odette ventured, deflated. “How about a cup of tea? It’s Hydrangea No. 23.”
“Ah, yeah, sure.” The young man, having lost his earlier momentum, nodded emptily.
None of the people in the living room took notice.
Behind a closed door in the neighboring room, a young girl stood there, quivering. Covered from head to toe in a black robe, her face, hidden by a hood, sank.
“Fe…o…dor?” As if in a fever-induced trance, she uttered the young man’s name. “No way… He’s…alive?”