(What, dear Reader, do you think Rockmann said to me next?)
“Your world still exists inside you,” he says. “Always remember that.”
I sense a sort of sorrow behind his words, and I clench my jaw at the pain it makes me feel. He’s been looking after me, all this time.
“Well anyhow, everything’ll calm down now, won’t it? You’ll be able to do your job and go about your daily life without too much trouble. Oh, also—don’t worry about your parents forgetting about you, I made it so that it didn’t affect them. Not that I could really expect my magic to work on anyone under the sea,” he says, jokingly.
As I wipe away the traces of tears on my cheeks, I notice red flower petals are fluttering in the air.
“To dance is to live! Let us not be bound by the fetters of appearance or class on this fair day! Let us simply take hands and dance on and away!”
At these words from the King, the crowd cheers with a “huzzah!” and begins to spread out.
“Now, now, you two, come and join the dance!” The King presses us down off the stage and onto the makeshift dance floor. Everyone around us is joining hands and dancing to the music. Some dance in pairs, others in fours, and yet others dance in circles of ten or twelve.
“Yikes! He just pushed us right off the stage! The King seems like he gets carried away at parties like this, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, don’t say such dull things. Hey, you alright?”
Rockmann stretches out his hand to me, as I’m kneeling on the ground after being dismissed (most unceremoniously, at that) by the King from the stage. “I don’t need you calling me dull,” I retort, taking his hand. “Thanks.”
We don’t immediately start dancing. For a while, we just stare awkwardly at everyone around us. Then, all of a sudden, I realize that we are holding hands. When did that happen? Why is it happening? Oh, wait—I guess I forgot to let go of his hand after he helped me to stand. But who forgets something like that? Does he realize what we’re doing...or not? I quickly let go of his hand. The expression on his face doesn’t change; his eyes simply meet mine.
Now that I know how I feel about him, just keeping eye contact with him is difficult—or rather, it’s completely embarrassing. If I look away now, though, I’m sure to feel like he’s beaten me again—and I definitely don’t want to feel that way. Determined not to lose out to him once more, I keep my gaze firmly locked with his.
Seconds, minutes, dozens of minutes pass, or they don’t, I’m not quite sure. “Um,” Rockmann says, “the King told us to dance, so I think we kinda have to.” He reaches out to me, and my eyes are drawn away from his to look down at his proffered hand. Quietly, I take his hand in my own and we begin to dance, not adhering to any particular style.
“You know, it’s amazing to think that despite the relationship you and I have, this is the third time we’re dancing, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. Despite our relationship.”
We move our feet to the rhythm of the cheerful music, the ground shaking in time with the movements of all the other dancers. In the corners of my vision, I catch sight of children, jumping high off the ground to the beat of the song.
“I’m not sure how you feel, but to be honest, this whole past month has been just absolutely maddening.” It’s unclear as to whether he really feels “mad,” however, based on the look in his eyes as his gaze shifts down to stare at the various rings on his hands, each with its own unique design.
“I just can’t stop thinking about what happened that day, what happened while I was freezing over. All I can remember is the feeling of all that cold creeping over and into my body...that, and the image of someone crouched over me, crying.”
He closes his eyes as if he’s recalling that image as we speak and our dancing slows down. On that day, in that place, I’m sure that everyone felt as if they were watching the world itself come to an end. Everyone was suddenly forced to realize that their lives would soon be over. They were forced to come to terms with the fact that they would die, without any sense of resolve or peace. Accepting that truth would be hard for anyone, especially him.
I’d been told what had happened after I finished off Städal. What they’d also mentioned, however, was that no one had predicted I’d be in a coma for a full month after casting my final attack.
Dr. Aristo had apparently made it out alive. Even if he had been manipulated by Städal all the while, there was no excusing what he had done. As such, he would be tried in the Royal Court following his full recovery. He’d been stripped of his title as “Count” in the aftermath of the battle.
“He’s got a long, tough road ahead of him,” Rockmann says to me quietly, eyes still averted. “If only I’d been more able to fight him myself. I should’ve been able to.”
No, Rockmann, you shouldn’t have. What’s gotten into you, anyway? Where’s your usual overpowering self-confidence? On the day of the battle, he’d almost lost someone who’d been like a father to him, the stadium he’d been charged with protecting had been utterly destroyed, and he’d collapsed to the ground long before I had. He seems really beat up about the whole affair. Maybe by “maddening,” he meant that he’s been mad at himself all this while.
“No, that’s not how it is at all,” I finally say. “You fought well, more than well, really, and it’s thanks to you, Rockmann, that I was able to defeat Städal at all. Thanks for saving me back then.” I pause, then continue. “I just...I just wanted to make sure I got the chance to say that to you.”
It’s not right of you to criticize yourself like that. You’ve done nothing wrong.
I suddenly recall that’s not the only thing I need to say to him right now.
“Um... I have to tell you something. Just...one more thing.”
“What is it?”
My lips feel as though they’ve been spelled shut. I can’t move them how I’d like. No matter what the emotion, if you never tell anyone, no one will ever know about it. I breathe. It’s time. It’s time for me to name this, this feeling that’s come bubbling up from deep inside of me, overflowing.
Rockmann looks at me rather suspiciously as I stand there, silent and fidgeting for a few moments, before finally finding the words that express what I want to say:
“I love you.”
It comes out as a mutter, a half-whisper. Still, I manage to look straight at him and maintain eye contact the whole time.
He leans in close. I can’t tell from his expression whether or not he actually heard what I said or not. Both of us stop dancing, and his grip on my hands loosens.
“What did you say? Just now?”
“I—I’ve said it once, and I’m not going to say it again! Um, ah, bye now, you dunce! Oh and stop being so hesitant and doubting yourself! Lighten up!”
I’d only actually been able to say it because I’d been so caught up in the flow of the conversation. I definitely won’t be able to say that again. I’m going to die. I’m going to die right here, on this very dance floor. Oooooh I just knew it would be like this! I feel like I’m going to throw up.
And yet I find that this new part of myself, this new feeling—I rather like it.
“Whoa, hold up, Hel—”
“Ahhh!”
Rockmann grabs my hand, and thanks to that I lose my balance. Our legs get tangled together, and it’s not long before the two of us fall with a bang right to the ground.
“Sir Alois?!”
“Nanalie?!”
“Good heavens, what a shameless display of affection...”
After we’ve quite thoroughly tumbled our way to the ground, I find myself lying on top of him. My body is against his, his face is against mine—and my mouth is lost to his. His lips are pressed against my own, and I feel a hint of soft, steamy warmth.
My eyes, full of surprise, snap to meet Rockmann’s. His glasses have fallen off from our tumble. I see his eyes glowing resplendent crimson, a heat suddenly flushes my cheeks, and my hands begin to shake. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt another’s lips against my own. This makes it look like I pushed him over to kiss him, doesn’t it? Plus, my face is definitely beet-red right now. No one’s going to believe me if I tell them I planned none of this.
Quick! I’ve got to get off of him, quick!
I rush to slide away from him, but Rockmann holds me tight against him, one hand on small of my back as he says—
“I love you too.”
—as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Huh? Uh, wha-what?”