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Aisha would be the first to admit that her memory wasn’t very good. But her most precious memories were still fresh in her mind. When she was young, she would often go to the bank of the river outside the village to play in the water and fish, or sometimes just to listen to the voices of the spirits. It was a peaceful way to spend her time, and she would often stay until the sun had set.
She would come home covered in mud, and her father would greet her with warmth in his voice, saying, “Oh, Aisha! You sure took your time! Welcome home!”
Aisha would never forget those words as long as she lived. She knew without a doubt that they were her father’s words. She was certain of it. And yet...
“This isn’t real!” she sobbed to herself. Aisha’s memories were telling her that the person in front of her was her father, but her heart wouldn’t accept the scene before her eyes. Aisha had not moved past her father’s abrupt parting. Her heart still bore the wounds of the experience.
The thing with her father’s form was silent.
Aisha’s vision went dark—so dark that she could see nothing at all. Her body felt like it was being ripped apart by the pain and sorrow inside her. But more than anything, she felt bitter regret. She had nothing but contempt for the foolish girl she had been, who could do nothing but lament as her father’s body grew weaker and the villagers hurled insults her way. She could not forgive herself.
When Nacht met Aisha, Aisha had not been afraid to die. Rather, her only wish had been to die alongside her father. But Nacht had saved her. Nacht valued her when she wouldn’t value herself. Nacht had said that she needed her and told her to stay by her side. That was why Aisha had decided that everything she was belonged to Nacht. Her place was by her mistress’s side and nowhere else. She had been a husk of a person, and Nacht’s words had given her a reason to live. They gave her life meaning.
Nacht had even brought Aisha back to her village with the intent of helping her come to terms with her father’s death. Nacht had told Aisha that she’d done nothing wrong, but even so, Aisha couldn’t manage to forgive herself. She had made up her mind to live with Nacht, without pardoning her past self’s weakness.
She remembered her father’s last words. “I’m sorry. I won’t be able to protect you any longer... I wasn’t able to keep my promises. Not to you, and not to Floria. I love you, Aisha. Forgive me...” Yes. Her father was already gone. Aisha’s bottomless regret served no purpose. It was too late. There was nothing she could do.
That was why Aisha wanted to become strong. She was sick of bemoaning her own weakness. She was going to do everything she could to become powerful, gain knowledge, and hone her technique. All so that she would never have to feel that way again.
“How...? This can’t be real! My father is...” Tears welled up in Aisha’s eyes as she stared at her father’s gentle smile—the smile she thought she would never see again. The thing she had lost, that she saw in her dreams. It was before her, like something out of a fantasy.
“What’s wrong, Aisha?” he said. “Good luck itself’s gonna run away from you if you keep making faces like that!” Those words. That dependable demeanor with just a hint of childishness. Everything was exactly like the father Aisha had known.
“Pa...pa...” Aisha didn’t realize she had said the word until it was out of her mouth. She knew it was an illusion, but a part of her wanted to leap right into her father’s arms. She took a step forward, then gasped. Beside her, Nacht was seething with fury. Aisha stopped dead in her tracks and timidly looked up at her mistress.
Nacht’s expression was severe—far more severe than Aisha normally saw. She looked at Nacht’s father with cold disgust, as if he were something filthy. No, it was more than that. Nacht’s eyes showed nothing but murderous hatred, strong enough to make Aisha’s body tremble despite itself. Then, without warning, Nacht was gone. Aisha’s eyes were too slow to follow her movements, but she knew perfectly well what her mistress was about to do.
“Mistress!” Aisha cried. “Wait!”
By the time Aisha noticed what was happening, Nacht had already reached her father. Her red nails were touching the base of his neck. If Aisha’s shout had been a second later, his head would have already been removed from his body.
“Aisha.” Nacht’s voice sent a shiver down Aisha’s spine. It sounded cool and indifferent, but that only made it feel direr. There was no enmity or coercion directed at Aisha in that voice, but the anger and malice she felt for Aisha’s father came through loud and clear. Aisha was shaking. “No power can bring the dead back to life.” Nacht met Aisha’s eyes. “The soul dies, and then it moves on. Do you want to make a mockery of your father’s death?”
Aisha said nothing. She merely lowered her gaze.
“I don’t know what trick is at play here,” Nacht continued, “but this is nothing more than a doll someone made. I know it hurts. I know it’s sad. I know you want to cling to the past. But your father is dead. You know that, right?” Her voice was cold and factual.
Aisha knew perfectly well that her father was dead, of course. She had felt his hand grow cold as she held it in her own. She remembered the day, the time, and the place. “B-But...” she said. “He talks like my father. Only my father would say it like that...”
Aisha’s memories were telling her that this was her father. Not a single word he had said was out of place. His expressions, his mannerisms...all of it aligned with the father that existed in her memories. There was no way a stranger could have possibly produced such a perfect doll. There was no way Aisha would be fooled by mere artifice. If there was a chance—even the slightest chance—that her father’s soul and memories had come to dwell in this body, she couldn’t simply let him die.