If only he could grasp what he was seeking, he could live on even without Bamboo. If he could understand that, even a half-dead man like him could really live. Looking at her gave him that impression, and it pushed Adonis to assertively attempt this cruel clash with reality.
He had never engaged in personal fights, but today he’d endeavored to, been despaired by it, and dragged himself out of it, coming here. And now, Adonis finally stood before the door to the Throne Room, where he saw that person who was like life itself.
Belle. So close he could touch her if he just reached out. She stood with both hands on her waist, like she was waiting for him to show up. Her expression was sterner than usual, carefully watching Adonis.
But then, suddenly, a relieved smile flickered across his lips. It really was a relief, seeing her. The tension drained from his body, making him feel lighter. Just by having this completely living being stand there, looking at him, filled Adonis with genuine relief.
Belle, on the other hand, looked taken aback by his smile. After failing her trial, she’d waited for Adonis for half an hour. There was a lot she wanted to say to him—most of it insults and complaints. Like how their talks always seemed to get off track, or how the way he feels and acts is unhealthy and how she wants to change that.
But above all else, she wanted the situation between them right now—this awkward state where she didn’t know what to say—to change.
And in the midst of all that, he started grinning at her like an idiot. It caught Belle off guard, like everything she was thinking was inconsequential.
She was also a bit mad at herself for smiling back at him.
“Did you already do your trial?” Adonis asked hesitantly.
He stood a short distance away from Belle, looking oddly ill at ease, bashful even, so it was hard to make sense of how he felt.
Belle, on the other hand, nodded indifferently. “I failed. I can’t open that door yet,” she said with a laugh.
Adonis looked at Belle with a hint of surprise. In truth, he was a bit relieved. The fear that she had already opened the Door of Journey and was about to leave him behind had been lurking deep in his heart. He found that surprising, along with Belle’s open admission of failure. Based on how calm she was, she seemed to be very much at peace with it.
“Knowing you, you’ll open it in no time,” Adonis said.
He wasn’t placating her; he believed it with all his heart.
“Honestly, hearing you say that helps. I’m feeling pretty lost right now.”
Belle’s tone was cheerful, and she grinned at him, her expression the furthest thing from despair. Adonis wordlessly drew closer to her, smiling back. She stood before the door, and he pressed his body against Belle’s, nestling into her like he was seeking her warmth. Belle’s expression reflexively hardened, which made Adonis stop. For a second, he looked hurt, but Belle didn’t notice it. Something else had caught her attention.
“You reek of blood…,” Belle said, pinching her nose.
“I’m a Solist,” Adonis said by way of answer.
He didn’t intend to hide anything, and some part of him wanted to flaunt what he’d done.
“You smell a bit like blood, too,” he added teasingly.
And indeed, he was teasing her. Belle’s body did seem to give off a faint scent of blood, but it wasn’t a gruesome stench. It was the clean, pure scent of life.
Belle’s expression clouded over, which, to Adonis, looked like she’d been offended. They both knew Belle wasn’t one to linger on things like this, but she’d been reminded that the scent of blood that naturally clung to Solists contained within it the grief they directed toward those they defeated. That was all.
“I’m not sure why, but in your case, even the smell of blood is pleasant,” Adonis said, touching Belle’s hair. He moved his face closer, to sniff it.
His hands were covered in thick leather gloves as always, but Belle could tell he was trying to connect with her in his own way.
“Doofus.” She laughed, his touch tickling her.
Adonis’s eyes met Belle’s, and he drew closer. The scent of blood grew stronger, which Belle assumed was because it was clinging to his clothes. This was, after all, the same uniform he’d worn in the Catacombs, so it was covered in bloodstains, painting the fabric’s camellia-red color even darker.
Still, somewhere deep down, Belle had an ominous feeling. It was like a premonition, a signal warning her of something dangerous. But before she could fully grasp what it was, Adonis’s face had gone out of sight. He had moved even closer, his head right next to her cheek. Adonis bent down, stopping just short of wrapping his arms around Belle. All she could see was his shoulders—which were surprisingly broad.
A different sort of heat filled her, overtaking the premonition, numbing Belle’s body in seconds like a fever.
“It hurts… A lot…,” Adonis whispered into her ear. “Before I realize what’s happening, everything around me goes dark. I can’t touch anything to figure out where I am. Did you see the Key? That magic? To me, it looks like nothing but a tool for exiling yourself. Not to any one place, but simply to drive yourself away from where you are now. Without purpose… If I play that, it’ll be like executing myself, like losing everything I have. That’s all I’ll find there.”
It was clearly a cry for help. Belle had seen this once before, during the Battle for the Catacombs, and it made her feel driven to comfort him. But this time, she couldn’t tell where or to whom his gaze was directed.
“The suffering you’re feeling now will someday be your lifeblood,” she told him.
Her voice had come out raspier than she’d expected. Why was that? Feeling oddly flustered, Belle tried to act as cheerful as she could.
“Your father…Tom Collins told me this. You have to believe you can see in the dark, to entrust yourself to that blackness, to become the darkness itself. And if you let yourself be pulled along with it, you’ll find something to guide you. You’re his son, so I know you will…”
Belle tried to comfort Adonis and, at the same time, hoped to get a read on Gaff’s situation by mentioning Tom’s name. After all, Gaff had defeated and killed his father in the Battle for the Catacombs. But halfway through her sentence, she’d realized Adonis sincerely wanted to hear what she had to say, so she stopped prying unnecessarily.
This, however, made Belle go quiet. She didn’t know what to say. She felt that somewhere inside her were the words that would help console Adonis, but a part of her deep down was telling her she mustn’t say them.
“Why?” She couldn’t ask because it would only validate Adonis’s solitude and risk-taking. It would encourage him to shut himself off in Bamboo and tell him that the fighting style she’d seen him use in the Catacombs, focused solely on killing, was correct. Belle didn’t want to say it. She couldn’t.
Adonis remained still. He waited for Belle’s words, but at some point he seemed to forget he was waiting and simply nestled against her. But even standing so close together, his hands never touched her. The pair stood, listening to each other’s breathing, near enough to feel one another’s warmth.
Belle was grateful for that moment, but she was also frustrated. It seemed like such a contrast to the situation that had put a wall up between them.
“Thank you,” Adonis whispered. He pulled away from Belle and looked at her with a relieved smile.
“Adonis—”
“I can’t be like you,” he said, cutting Belle off. “So in my own way, I’ll try to fight back.”
“…You won’t turn out like me.”
Was this menial attitude an attempt at reassuring her? Belle couldn’t tell. Adonis nodded and smiled, looking at ease.
“It’s my turn,” he told her.
Belle walked past him, never taking her eyes off his face. The imposing doors to the Throne Room towered before Adonis. As she watched him step up to them, Belle suddenly felt that maybe it was Adonis who would end up going ahead and leaving her behind. That didn’t necessarily mean he’d leave on a journey, but something was clearly about to happen. Belle’s intuition told her as much. And whatever it was would surely spur her to action, as well.
That was the feeling she got.
That was how intense Adonis’s smile was—even if he wasn’t aware of it.
Adonis placed his hands on the doors and pushed them open. Before Belle could call out to him, he crossed over to the other side. The doors closed behind him with a heavy grinding sound and a thud that shook the palace, and at that exact moment, the sword on Belle’s back let out a faint howl.
“Runding…?”
Belle’s hand jumped to the sword’s grip in surprise. The sword’s howl soon died down, regaining its equilibrium. Belle trembled, an inexplicable chill running through her. With the doors closed, Belle wouldn’t hear a thing no matter what happened in the Throne Room. The trial to play the Key didn’t allow any companions.
“Adonis…” Belle looked at the door for a moment and eventually shook her head, as if to shrug something off. “I’ll be waiting in your room.”
She knew her voice wouldn’t reach him, but she still said it.
Belle resolutely turned around and left the palace.