The only thing Sai could do was back down.
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Chapter Ninety: Flashback to Caterpillar Fungus
“MEOOOW.”
Sai trudged away from the embassy building. “Sorry, Yoruiro…” she muttered. “You brought me all the way here, but I’m so powerless…”
As if to console her, the cat licked her cheek. When she turned a corner, Yoruiro leaped out of her arms in one smooth motion. It turned to look at her once more before darting away.
“Ah, wait up!” Sai’s dress, covered with cat fur, flapped in the wind as she chased Yoruiro. The cat circled around the embassy building, then dove through a fence.
“Oh!” One section of the wall surrounding the embassy was broken. The cat ducked its head back out again. “So this is your little door…”
Sai followed the cat. She climbed through the small opening onto the embassy grounds. As she crawled, the screams were gradually growing feebler.
She chewed on her lip. “He must be tired and hurting…” A large bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. She needed to hurry—the boy was too pitiful to ignore.
She snuck into the garden and, like a cat, tiptoed with her body crouched low to the earth. She wandered, searching for the room where the screams were coming from. Luckily, she located it right away. She could sense a powerful mana signature from a room on the second floor that faced the fence she had infiltrated.
Taking the cat into her arms, she hugged it tight. “I’ll go now, Yoruiro. Thank you.” After bidding it farewell, Sai scaled the tree closest to the room’s window. For a country girl, climbing trees came as easily as breathing. If she couldn’t manage that much, she wouldn’t be able to help clear snow from the roofs in winter.
When she hopped onto a branch that reached toward the window, it bent and creaked ominously. Before it could snap, Sai poured mana into her shoes—and lunged! Somehow, she managed to catch hold of the window frame. Sai let out a sigh of relief. Luckily for her, there were protrusions on the wall that she could use as footing, so she wouldn’t fall off.
“He should be inside here…” Sai peered into the room through the gap between the closed curtains. What she saw inside almost made her doubt her eyes.
“Mn… Ahh… Urgh… Hah…”
A messy bed. Sheets wrinkled and scrunched. And on top, a slender boy writhing in agony. He looked to be around five or six years older than her. His hair, the color of milk tea, seemed soft and fluffy. He was curling into himself, revealing his arched back, which had huge bumps that were utterly different from human shoulder blades. The lumps were squirming, changing their shape.
An unintelligible scream tore from the boy’s throat.
Then wings appeared on his back with a loud rustling. The powerful, dark brown wings were so large that they almost seemed to swallow him whole. The boy looked so thin, so frail, that he might snap in two at any second, the mighty wings completely at odds with the rest of him.
Sai recalled a certain medicine her mother had once taught her about. It was an herb that germinated on the back of small worms—a slightly unfortunate fungus.
“It’s called caterpillar fungus,” her mother had said. “The Oriental name for it literally translates to ‘winter worm, summer herb.’ It’s a medicinal mushroom that sucks the nutrients from the little larva and sprouts during summer.”
The wings were like caterpillar fungi—seemingly swelling larger and larger by sucking out the essence of the boy’s delicate body.
“Guh… Ah…” He moaned and twisted in pain.
And his face just so happened to turn in the direction of the window.
His eyes grew wide as he stared at his lone observer. His pale lips moved, mouthing, How? His exposed pale face was gentle and elegant like a doll’s, and sticky with sweat. His big eyes were the color of the sky.
“Why is there a…girl in a place…like this…?”
The moment those words left his lips, he rushed to the window as if someone were chasing him. The boy pulled Sai inside.