Benedictine hung her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“We need to hurry…,” she murmured. “I don’t think there’s much time left, so I’ll have to get it ready.”
“Get it ready…?”
“Yes. You can just lie in bed. I’ll clean this up and be on my way, so just wait.”
She rubbed her eyelids, like her eyes hurt, then blinked a few times.
“…All said, you really cleared your plate,” she said jokingly, rising to her feet.
Fearing her anxiety might show on her face and unsure what to say, she shooed Belle away into bed and started washing her own dishes. Lying in bed, Belle listened to Benedictine go about her work: the sound of parchment being wrapped around the remaining ingredients, and then the chilling container opening and closing; the clanking of the dishes and a water crystal shattering and producing water; the sound of a sponge fruit being used to rinse them as Benedictine hummed to herself.
All of it sounded oddly painful and wistful to Belle. She unconsciously reached out, pulling the sword closer like she was hugging it as she waited for Benedictine to finish. The humming eventually stopped, and the Mermaid glanced at her.
“It’s like you’re lovers,” she said, teasing Belle for the way she nestled against Runding.
“Is it? I wouldn’t know what lovers are like.”
“Don’t give me such a serious answer, would you? It gets scary when you take nonsense like that too seriously. Which reminds me, have you heard this silly story? One Solist was asked by his lover, ‘Who do you love more, your sword or me?’ So the Solist went to the Throne Room and asked the king for permission to place his lover on the scales.”
“Hmm. So which was heavier?”
“…Honestly. You think that was the point?”
“It isn’t?”
“You really can’t take a joke, can you? That side of you scares me, seriously,” Benedictine said in a way that didn’t sound entirely like a joke.
“Even if you say that to me…I don’t really get it,” Belle retorted, pouting.
Benedictine shook her head like she was at a loss, then held out her hand over the ball of light. She swiftly drew a spell into the air and pressed her palm against the stone’s shell, and the light quickly went out.
Belle didn’t know light produced sound, but it went out with a little buzz. And as it did, she heard a whisper.
“Someday you’ll understand just how cruel you are. And that will probably be when you understand what emotions will give form to your curse.”
That whisper faded into the silver stone, along with the ball of light.
With only the faint pale glow of the lamp lighting up the room, Benedictine silently placed a light crystal on the table. She took two crystals out of the bag she’d brought and carried them over to Belle, standing over the bed. Benedictine looked down at her meekly with a smile.
Belle’s heart raced. It was almost scary. The woman’s smile was so clear and ethereal, it reminded Belle of a ghost story where a woman’s ghost came to inform her beloved she was dead.
“This reminds me of a boring lecture I heard from my village elders, back before I found my femininity. It was a horrible lecture, full of the hopes and ideals of what it means to be a Mermaid…”
Saying this, Benedictine rested a knee on the bed. She held the crystal balls in both hands—the one in her right was crimson and the one in her left colorless—like she was offering them up to Belle. Her contours stood out in the pale glow, her scales shining faintly, along with her faint smile and supple, endowed body. It all mystified Belle, coming across as oddly divine.
At Benedictine’s urging, Belle let go of her sword.
“Take off your clothes… And relax. Like you’re going to sleep. In fact, you can sleep, if you’d like.”
Belle complied. While hiding her body with both hands, she tossed her shirt over the sword, then followed Benedictine’s direction, lying down while relaxing her body and timidly moving her arm away.
Belle’s supple body, wavering between boyishness and womanhood like a young Mermaid’s, was covered in terrible scars, like she’d been whipped. Benedictine swiftly looked over the bruises and undid her own clothes.
Belle felt her cheeks flush for some reason, but she simply remained silent as Benedictine straddled her. Belle’s frightened black eyes met Benedictine’s clear amethyst jewels.
Benedictine let out a mischievous chuckle.
“All Mermaids are born of the great Sea of Spirits, pass through the current to the World of Restoration after tainting their hearts, and eventually return to the depths of Limbo… Or so they say.” Benedictine imitated the tones of the elders she once heard. “Hence our mastery of barriers… They always used to say that. Just remembering it makes me retch a little. I was a boy who preferred offensive barriers, and no one in my age group could match me. Even after I learned how to become a woman, the thought of weaving a barrier to truly protect someone never occurred to me. It was always to hurt someone, or otherwise take others into my heart, like I did with Gordon… The thought of me healing another’s heart is laughable…”
She chuckled, not out of self-deprecation, but because she truly found it strange. Belle looked up at Benedictine, confused.
“Forgive me, but it really does feel strange. I’m the one who said we don’t have much time, and here I am, bringing up the past… Come now, let’s get started. Let me start off by saying that the red one in my right hand contains sacred wine meant for healing. It shouldn’t get you tipsy, but you’re a very light drinker, so you’ll probably get drowsy. If you do, don’t be shy and go to sleep. It’ll make things easier for me. But do tell me good-bye before you do.”
That last remark made Belle gulp.
“Good-bye? What do you—?”