“Dismiss your orders to us now, and undo that ridiculous magic! We’ve never been treated like royalty! Bel doesn’t have to bear any obligations! This country should just disappear! So...so...” The voice was coming from a nine-tailed fox cub, howling desperately as it floated in midair.
Smiling down at the little fox was a girl who seemed slightly older than when I had last seen her.
Her plain, unadorned clothes were torn and tattered, as if she had just fought a battle. The moment I saw her hair, unnaturally short on one side, and the bare skin that showed through the gaps in her torn clothing, I realized the situation was dire.
Ominous, scorched-looking dark red runes crawled across her still-gaunt body, burning into her flesh as if they were being branded on her. Following those marks, silver flames were overwriting them with another set of inscriptions. I didn’t recognize either set of runes. Were they ancient scripts that had vanished long ago?
The sight was agonizingly painful; it was clear at a glance that the trembling girl was enduring excruciating torment. How could she maintain such a serene expression? Her calm, still eyes showed no will to choose life for herself.
Still, there was no despair either... Yes, it was more like utter exhaustion...
“Sorry my first command is like this, Casquette. But it’s not because you’re royalty.”
I was startled to hear the words “Casquette” and “command.” Was this girl a pact-bearerpact-bearer?
I’d only been away from the princess for a short while. Yet her long hair had been cut, and somehow everything had ended up like this... A childish voice had drifted in from somewhere. Was this someone’s dream? This summer, when I’d nearly gotten caught in a magic curse at the Academy’s boys’ dorm, I’d peeked into Sienna’s dream like this.
Sunlight, pure and refreshing, streamed down from the sky that was revealed by the missing roof, bathing the girl in light.
Had he done it again?
In the corner of the room, a young man sat curled up, crying, his face swollen. He looked about my age, and his hair was a pale greenish silver. Through his swollen eyelids, his sky blue eyes were barely visible. That color matched the famous Prince of Justice, who’d defeated the legendary villainess and the demon she’d served...
Or was it someone else? Someone who’d insulted the princess, or just stood by and watched?
Other youths of the same age surrounded the boy. Among them were several with complexions which matched the legitimate sons and daughters of the Four Ducal Houses. Their expressions betrayed fear and regret. Among them, only one girl was different—a girl I almost mistook for my sister for a moment. Her face was full of earnest longing as she stared intently at the girl with silver-peach hair bathed in the morning sun.
Though confused by the situation, I realized the silver-peach girl was Princess Beljeanne, and the peach-gold girl was my grandmother.
Or had Sriarde done something again? The childish voice uttered the word “again.” It reminded me of the hallucination I’d seen in the royal palace long ago—Sriarde, her face twisted in pleasure.
“It’s because I’m the pact-bearerpact-bearer of these sacred beasts,” Princess Beljeanne was saying. “Being your master was my only pride, my only joy. It’s okay, we’ll meet again. I’ll definitely come back, so let me go now. Casquette, Laguondol...I love you.”
Their master?! Casquette and Laguondol?! Could it be...the unparalleled villainess, Princess Beljeanne, had contracted with two sacred beasts?!
Startled, I stared intently at Princess Beljeanne, who was smiling gently. For some reason, her face felt familiar, like my grandmother’s. Come to think of it, aside from the golden rings, even the color of her eyes...
“I’ll return to this country someday,” she went on. “When I do, find me. Next time, I want us to live together peacefully, unbound and unfettered, laughing for the rest of our lives. So until then, protect this place where we’ll meet again.” Princess Beljeanne surely understood she would die soon. How could her smile for her sacred beasts, her indigo eyes ringed with gold, remain so serene?
She wasn’t much younger than me—about the same age as my sister. Despite her serenity, she looked utterly exhausted. And yet even in that state, the air around her was pure and divine, radiating a beauty that defied any belief she could be a legendary villainess.
But that thought lasted only a moment. Her entire body burst into a brilliant silver light, blazing as if it had caught fire. Her form wavered...then, in an instant, she crumbled into a pile of white ash.
“Bel!” The white sacred beast flew toward the small heap of ash, tears spilling from its gold-flecked indigo eyes. “Oh... Bel... You idiot... Why did you... Wait! Bel! Beljeanne... No, no! Don’t leave me behind!” It spoke as though Princess Beljeanne were still there. Then, as if chasing something, it spun on its heel and vanished.
“Lady Beljeanne...” Slowly, feebly, my grandmother approached the ashes. Her face was crushed by despair, tears streaming down her cheeks.
You! You were protected by the princess all along! If it weren’t for you! cried a childish voice. It sounded as if the voice was venting anger, but the words it said shocked me.
Princess Beljeanne had been protecting my grandmother, even though they were rivals in love? As I stared at the scene in stunned silence, a silver-blue dragon appeared directly above the white ash. My grandmother stopped in her tracks.
It was Laguondol, the sacred beast I’d seen in the Poison Box Garden. A single tear rolled from its eyes, which were the same shade as Casquette’s had been. The falling tear formed a water droplet, enveloping the white ash. Together with Laguondol, it vanished abruptly.
This wasn’t just a dream. At the very least, it was somebody’s genuine memory—a memory of the owner of this childish voice.
“Princess Beljeanne!” Suddenly, a blond youth dashed from what seemed to be the collapsed entrance.
A young girl, who must have been pushed aside forcefully by the youth, caught my eye at the entrance, having landed on her bottom. She was about ten years old, with white hair and black eyes... Was this Lily? She was wearing a maid’s uniform, and she bore a resemblance to the pope.
Come to think of it, the pope had also called Beljeanne “Princess”... Could it be? Yes, the current pope’s actual age should be about the same as this child would be when grown.
But my thoughts crashed to a halt as I took in the sight of the young blond man who’d just rushed in. With a desperate, fierce expression, he grabbed my grandmother’s shoulders and shook her violently as she stood frozen in tears, clearly overwhelmed. “Princess Beljeanne?! What happened to Bel?! Is she safe?! Answer me quickly!”
“Lord Soviesch... I’m sorry... Princess Beljeanne...h-has passed away...”
So this man was my grandfather?! His features resembled my father’s and my own, and above all, those rare golden-green eyes were my grandfather’s color.
But my grandmother—no, the way he spoke and acted toward his fated lover was so violent it left me speechless. And above all, had I just heard him call Princess Beljeanne “Bel” as a nickname? Princess Beljeanne seemed to be his priority—his agitation even suggested he loved his fiancée.
“What are you saying... Why... This... Bel, it’s a lie... It’s a lie...” At first Soviesch was stunned, but soon he began scanning his surroundings as if searching for something invisible. His golden-green eyes seemed to sparkle, seeming clearer for an instant, only for the glint to fade. Gradually, those eyes filled with despair...and he collapsed, dropping weakly to his knees.
Then the scenery abruptly distorted, shifting into a world of black and white.
I realized my consciousness was trying to return to reality.