Night had fully fallen by the time we got back to the sinkhole from the mansion. Jack was waiting for us by the auto-trike. We were too exhausted to bother with a big production for dinner, so we just took a handful of the cans and made a simple meal. Afterward, Jack quickly returned to his lodging—the apartment on the third floor he’d first called out to us from. We each gave a “see you tomorrow, then” as he went. It felt like the return of a lifetime ago.
I brewed some coffee over the Svea as Nito gazed at her notebook with a conflicted expression. An unpleasant darkness wreathed the town as it stood around us, but it also felt at peace. I poured the field coffee from the kettle into a metal cup, and then added sugar and two heaped spoonfuls of powdered milk. Once I’d stirred it through, I offered it to Nito.
“Didn’t you say that stuff didn’t taste nice?” she asked.
“You’ll be able to drink this. Don’t look so doubtful.”
She hesitantly took the cup and brought it up to her nose to take a sniff. Then, warily, she took a sip. Her eyes widened.
“It’s delicious.”
“Right?”
“Why don’t you normally drink it like this?”
“Because it’s cooler to take it black.”
She paused, considering me.
“Are you an idiot?”
It was a merciless indictment, but I made no rebuttal. It was true, after all. I’d left my own portion black, and the harsh, astringent, bitter taste prickled over my tongue as I drank it. My jaw tightened and I quickly regretted trying to play it cool in front of her.
“I can’t get enough of that flavor.”
“I don’t really get what you mean,” Nito admitted.
“You’re just too young to understand.”
“Then I’ll stay young forever.”
It...somewhat felt like she wasn’t pulling any punches. I was happy about that, though. We sipped our coffees in wordless silence, and the Svea’s flame cast flickering light across the nearby buildings. When Nito had finished looking through the notebook and closed it, I spoke.
“Can I have a look?” I asked.
“Sure...” she answered, albeit hesitantly, before handing it over to me.
I opened it up. It held a plethora of paintings. Supposedly, each one was a sight from somewhere in the world. I felt like going around and searching for these places might be fun, almost like a treasure hunt. Eventually, I arrived at the page depicting the Golden Sea. It was a gorgeous sight, full of amber tones, with a signature in the corn—
I almost kicked my cup over as I scrambled to my feet and looked for the lantern in my bag. Once I’d gotten the lantern switched on, I brought it up to the notebook.
“K-Keisuke? What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t reply. I just couldn’t formulate the words.
This was the second time I’d seen the signature. The first time had been in the dark, and I hadn’t been able to see clearly. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. With the lantern light, though, I could read it.
That’s right, I could read it.
For whatever reason, the people of this world and I could understand each other’s speech, but I couldn’t read their writing. The instructions on the canned food were meaningless to me, and I’d just skimmed past the signature, assuming I wouldn’t be able to read it. Yet, as I traced my finger along the scribbled letters now, I could tell it was written in cursive English. I went over each letter carefully, making sure I’d read it right. I could only decipher the unfamiliar cursive script because the word was both short and a person’s name.
“Almeria.”
I raised my head and met Nito’s gaze. Her expression wasn’t what I had expected. Though she must have known how shocking it was for me to be able to read this, she had a small, gentle smile on her face.
“That’s my mom’s name,” she told me after a moment.
There were two names in the corner: Almeria and Albert. Slowly reading the letters to myself, I felt something strange. I’d heard a name like that, and recently too.
I didn’t need to ponder for long. Like a flash of lightning coursing through my mind, the memory came into sharp, vivid relief. It was Ned’s voice.
“You know, I’ve met another otherworlder before.”
And then...
“When my dad was still around, he brought a man home with him once. The man called himself Albert.”
A chill went down my back. It couldn’t be.
“Nito, was your dad’s name Albert?”
My mouth felt irritatingly slow as my mind rushed frantically to ask her the question.
“No, that’s the first time I’ve heard the name.”
That name was in the notebook though, along with her mother’s. She’d purposefully held her tongue, keeping it a secret even from her daughter.
What was it Ned had said about that “Albert”? I pressed on my temples and screwed my eyes shut, looking for the memory.
Think, think! He said something else.
“He lived with us for a summer.”
Right, that was part of it.
“Helped with the wine.”
Then there was more...
“Painted pictures, and rode horses.”
“Painted pictures.”
“—suke.”
I raised my head.
“Are you okay, Keisuke?”
While I was thinking, she’d moved closer. She was kneeling and had her hand on my shoulder. The blue of her eyes, shining in the lantern light, suddenly stuck out to me, even after all this time.
“Your eyes.”
“Huh?”
“Are they the same color as your mom’s?”
Said eyes drifted slightly closed as she shook her head.
“They’re different from both of my parents. I’m the only one with this eye color in my family. The doctors said it was probably due to my mana deficiency syndrome.”
Mana deficiency syndrome—wasn’t that a disease that Nito was the only person in the world to have had? Could a disease like that be because of a difference in the fundamental building blocks of a person, in their genes? I couldn’t just laugh off the thought like some bad joke. After all, if it was true, that would mean—
“So I was right?” she asked, looking me in the eye.
“Right?” I parroted.
“My real dad came from the same world as you?”
“How—” I started, before covering my mouth; this was serious, perhaps the most important factor in her upbringing.
She shook her head though, telling me it was fine.
“I think that my dad realized it too. He knew I wasn’t his real daughter.”
“Realized... Huh?”
“Their marriage was one of those political ones. They wanted a connection between their families more than love.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but before I could even try to reply, Nito continued.
“I asked my mom about the signature lots of times. She would always look conflicted and not answer though. I never understood why, but when I saw that small clock on your wrist, I had an idea.”
“This?” I asked, looking down at my wrist.
It was just a standard watch from a common brand. I remembered that she’d sketched it while we were at Vandyke’s workshop, as well as doing her painting.