Words spilled from her trembling lips.
“…I don’t want to die.”
Those words dropped to the cold, freezing stone along with the tears running down her cheeks. They moved like pearls down her pale face.
“I don’t want to die. I’ve never wanted to die. My stepparents, Mr. and Mrs. Muller—they were kind to me. My new little sister, Kaniha, was sweet and adorable. I wanted to live with them, to go to school again, to tell them how grateful I was.”
But she didn’t do it. She couldn’t do any of it.
I’ve only lived with her for one year—would Kaniha remember me? Are my stepparents worried about me, or do they resent me? Do they resent me for lying, for not telling them the whole time that I’m not human anymore, that I got turned into a bomb, a biological weapon?
“I wanted to go back to my hometown, not to this empty place I don’t even know. I wanted to meet everyone again—my mother, my father, my schoolmates, Dustin. I wanted to grow up, to go visit the United Kingdom, where my parents were born.”
To go away, far away, as far as her whims would carry her, to the distance.
I wanted to go there with you.
“I don’t want to die, I don’t…!”
The tears fell. Citri wept, her expression screwed up and her tears streaming freely.
…When Kiki and others left at the very end, they did it so they wouldn’t get the others caught up in their ending—and probably so they could cry where no one would see them. Because they didn’t want this. All this time, they wanted to cry. To scream out that they didn’t want to die. But they couldn’t scream. Their cries reached no one.
As Citri sobbed wordlessly, on and on, Yuuto patiently waited. He told her he could at least listen, and he wanted to grant her this. For all he knew, Citri could explode at any second, but he didn’t care if he got caught up in it.
As the surge of emotions subsided and the sound of her sobbing finally died down, she roughly wiped her tears and pursed her lips. She sniffled one last time, then whispered a thank-you, her voice hoarse.
“I’m fine now… Let’s go.”
✦ ✦ ✦
The bloodstains came from the corpses of the Bleachers lying on the floor, with the weapon being the now-bent gunstock of the one Ernst was holding. He hadn’t used the gun to shoot them, nor had he used the bayonet, which wasn’t attached, either. He’d beat them repeatedly with the gunstock as a bludgeon until they became still, hitting their bodies until skin tore and blood flowed.
The gruesome sight made Theo freeze. In terms of sheer gore, he’d seen more horrific deaths on the battlefield. But he was witnessing human bodies destroyed by violence that was so insistent and unrepentant, which even murder machines like the Legion didn’t engage in.
And despite that, Ernst simply turned to face Theo with the smile of a father spotted by their child with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Oh, sorry you had to see this. That’s no good—a grown adult lashing out in anger.”
“…!”
“Is Frederica with you, too? I guess she’ll really look down on me after this… Give me a moment—I’ll tidy things up. It wouldn’t do for me to make such a mess and leave the cleanup to someone else, would it?”
Saying this, Ernst casually returned the assault rifle back to its standard grip and tilted it toward the floor, pressing it against the head of an Alba woman lying there—this was Primevére, if he recalled, the Bleachers’ leader. Her head was caved in and bleeding, but Theo could still hear her faint breathing. She was alive. And Ernst had his gun fixed on her head.
“Ernst, uh, wait… You don’t have to kill her!”
The men had all been armed, so while his self-defense was excessive, one could say he’d been compelled to fight back. But none of the Bleachers were moving, so there was no need to hurt them any further. He could just let the Flame Leopards handle the rest.
“True, but there’s no point in keeping them alive, either. Like I said, this is me lashing out.”
“Lashing out…?!”
“After all, nothing matters to me anymore. Nothing. And since nothing matters, well, I do think everyone ought to live as they want to, but when noisy flies buzz in my ear when I’m already in a foul mood, I’m going to crush them. They’re a nuisance, after all.”
As Theo looked at him, stunned, Ernst smiled.
“What, haven’t you noticed? I thought Shin definitely saw it, which is why he dislikes me. Thinking it was just him being a rebellious adolescent makes me happier, as your guardian.”
“…!”
Theo had noticed, of course. He’d frankly always been scared of Ernst on some level. The way he said these things with frightening seriousness, damning everyone, everything, and even himself. Claiming he wished to see himself and the world fall to ruin…with his black, void-like eyes, which saw no value in anything.
But if he showed his true nature off, everything would end. If everyone knew him for the empty monster he was instead of the title he’d been granted as hero of the revolution, the Federacy would completely lose its form. Nothing could be more eerie or scary to oneself and to others than someone who found no value in anything.
But more than anything, Ernst would be branded an unsalvageable monster, a murderer, and Theo didn’t want to see him end up like that.
“Ernst, you can’t. Stop—”
But Ernst wouldn’t turn to look at him anymore. Theo’s words seemed to bounce off him, never reaching the man’s heart. And yet…
Before Theo entered the estate, Frederica had filled him in about the details of what happened and asked him for help. At the very end, she asked him for something. Her voice was desperate, like a child on the verge of tears.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Theo. Theo, please say it. I know you have no intention of calling him that, but just for now, at this moment, think of it as my words, spoken in my stead…!”
✦ ✦ ✦
Frederica had lost her birthright, country, and everyone around her. And while it hadn’t been by Ernst’s hands directly, she couldn’t bring herself to call him that. She could not forget nor forgive the deaths of her young knight and her other caretakers. A puppet ruler though she may have been, the people around her still had sworn their allegiance to her as empress.
And so she couldn’t express that she accepted the man who’d killed her family, the leader of the revolution who slew her vassals. Rather than using that title, she called him a paper pusher, and that was likely her way of resisting, of protesting…against herself.
She knew she couldn’t call him by that title, but some part of her did want to. Having ascended to the throne as an infant, she didn’t know the real person’s face. And so she had to resist herself.
If that conflict’s been eating away at Frederica, then why should I, a bystander who’s older than her, who’s never had that kind of conflict, let it stop me?
On that night they expressed their desire to return to the battlefield, Ernst came home despite being busy with work, because he wanted to celebrate the Holy Birthday. He came home with his arms full of pamphlets and reference materials for schools, having taken time out of his busy schedule to consider their futures.
At that moment alone, this firedrake—with his falsehoods and eyes of void—didn’t look like he was lying. And that’s why—
✦ ✦ ✦
“Just stop it… Dad.”
✦ ✦ ✦
And then like the word was woven of purest magic—the raging firedrake froze.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Y-you…”
His hands fell limp, the assault rifle with its gunstock bent slipping from his fingers. It fell bluntly, harmlessly to the floor next to Primevére.
“You can’t say that—that’s not fair…”
His expression crumpled, looking like he was about to burst into tears.
Ernst was the oldest of the adults Theo knew, apparently old enough to have fathered a child who would have been older than Theo. But now he looked at Theo—and at Frederica, watching them from afar—with the expression of a small, lost child.
“I would have liked to have filled that role for you. I know you were left in my care in place of your real parents, but if you could bring yourself to call me Dad, I’d have wanted it. But calling me that now, at this point, in this place… It’s not fair…!”
He slowly covered his face with his hands. His bloodstained hands. His hands, which had still sought to deliver the killing blow to the woman at his feet. The hands his children held on to, just barely stopping him from swinging them down.
“It’s not fair. I can’t betray you. What father would I be if I betrayed two of my own children, trying to stop me together with tears in their eyes? I’m—”
His sobs slipped between his bloodied fingers, along with his tears.
“I’m your dad, after all… I’m not allowed to make you unhappy…!”