She heard a soft but certain howling, and Runding became lighter in her hands, like the life had returned to it. Belle’s swing, which was powerful enough to deflect arrows in flight with the wind pressure it produced, left Mist with no choice but to hop out of the way and land on the stemgrass’s wagon.
“Wild child…”
Mist eyed Belle—who’d fallen to one knee on top of the carriage—with confusion. Blood dripped from Belle’s body like drops of rain, and Mist narrowed her eyes, her expression pained. She then looked around the battlefield in alarm.
“Guinness…”
Her fair features frowned in frustration. She gritted her teeth.
“I can’t switch sides to the underdogs that easily,” Guinness said apologetically. “Same as how you won’t become a top dog…”
He then jerked his chin impishly. Belle saw it through her dazed, fading consciousness.
But then a deluge of water cascaded toward the battlefield with a mighty rumble. It traced the path ancient rivers had carved into this land long ago, pushing the swamp away as it rushed toward the evil Solists. The just Solists had all gathered around the stemgrass, ignoring the water behind what had once been an embankment.
“But I snapped your sword. How did you give the signal…?”
Mist trailed off, glaring at Benet. The water crystal shot she’d dodged had served as the sign to breach part of a nearby lake and direct the water here.
“As always, you write your scripts and don’t care for the damage they cause. You ruined the farmland.”
“The river will continue downward from here. It won’t affect your towns in the west.”
“Hmph…”
Mist put away her sword, looking rather displeased by the whole affair. She turned to look at the rushing water, then shouted, “Retreat! That one-armed crook got us good. Fall back!”
At her word, the Froggies blew war horns, relaying the retreat order to the rest of their forces, and moved to secure their way out.
“See you some other time, Belle. You got weaker,” she said, before hopping toward the flowing current of water. “I dunno what happened, but make sure you fix this, Guinness!”
With that, Mist hopped away atop the water with the rest of the Froggies. They likely used a barrier momentarily to create footing for them, but even so, it shocked her how nimble they were. To Belle, this was a terribly irritating sight. She couldn’t believe she’d ever be able to jump as gracefully as Mist could.
“Belle, are you all right…?” Benet called out, climbing on top of the carriage roof.
It was at this inopportune moment that the priest decided to find fault with Guinness’s exchange with Mist. She could hear the coach driver desperately playing his instrument, spurring the stemgrass to swim against the current.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s all right, Belle. Come this way. Let me take a look at your wounds…”
Benet reached out to her, but she pulled back, shaking him off.
“Belle…?”
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine…”
“I’m sorry.”
“…”
Belle hung her head, gritting her teeth, and embraced Runding, bearing the pain of her wounds.
“It’s like a storm raging silently,” Benet said.
For once, he was downing his drinks just as quickly as Guinness.
“Runding’s gone completely silent. My ears can’t hear its howling at all. This is worse than I thought, Guinness. That isn’t Belle; it’s like she’s wearing a mask. The real Belle sunk deep down, where she’s holding her breath.”
“And given time she’ll die down there, and this will become the real Belle. Right?”
“Exactly! Where do you get off acting all calm, cool, and collected? What are you expecting me to do about it at this point? You’ve seen what she’s like; she won’t even let me lay a hand on her.”
Benet vented his frustrations on Guinness. His eyes were closed, like he was just barely restraining the anger, but his triangular ears were standing upright.
Guinness, by contrast, was completely calm, cool, and collected.
“Benet, can you still see with your eye?”
“Huh? What are you talking about? Yes, I can see through it… Barely.”
He opened his good eye and glared at Guinness. Benet nodded, then carried on, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“This is just a thought…but Mermaids and all Undines are basically guardian gnome spirits linked to the spiritual world that mirrors our physical world. That’s why you reflect the personalities of others. And it’s why Mermaids can access both sexes…”
“But how does that help me? I’m a failed Mermaid, doomed to spend his life as a man. You just…can’t grasp how terrible of a suffering that is.”
“Don’t be so sure, Benet. But the thing is: I was thinking about the scar on your eyes. What wounds—emotional and physical—mean for a Mermaid, and how it relates to your gender.”
Benet visibly calmed. His finger traced the scar extending from above his left brow down his cheek. His clouded eye trembled under it.
“You think I can…?”
“Only you can do this, Benet. And you’re right; as you are now, you could never do it. I mean, you understand the reason Belle came to your room, right? The rest is up to you. You need to make a choice. And I—or anyone for that matter—can’t force you to do it. But if you ever end up losing the light, I will assume responsibility for it, and I am prepared to plan for the future.”
With these mysterious words, Guinness the braggart looked directly at Benet. Heat brewed within them, the memories of a true, literal inferno, of great guilt at burning away all the raven flowers. It drove him to action—always, even now. But no matter how much he sought judgment for that, God’s closed-off garden, Park City, would not grant it to him.
But without losing heart, Guinness maintained his composed demeanor, his eyes alone glinting like tempered steel as he looked at Benet. His expression transformed into a mischievous smile.
Benet let out a deep sigh. “Light, you say…” He let out a pained groan and downed the cup in his hands. “All right… I’ll try,” he murmured, sounding like he’d made up his mind.