I feel a sudden pull of gravity.
“Wh-Whoa!”
“Agh...”
We’re back from the past. Where are we? Wherever this is, the five of us are piled up on something soft. There’s a pleasant smell... Did we land in a bed?
I’m pretty sure I asked the Time Keeper to take us to Rockmann. Is this really the place?
Since I landed first, I’m struggling to breathe with the weight of four people on top of me. Then, I notice a slight warmth beneath the sheets, and turn my eyes upwards without moving my head.
“You’re heavy... I’m going to puke...”
“Rockmann!”
“Get off me already.”
He’s pale enough on a good day, and now his face looks downright haggard. He’s trembling underneath our weight, as the five of us seem to have fallen right on top of his bed, where he’s resting. His long hair is down, he has white pajamas on, and he’s gesturing at us to move, a listless look on his face. Rockmann looks really fed up with us.
Am I just cursed to land in his lap every time I teleport? The same thing happened that other time a long while ago with the failed magic circle. Like, at this point it can’t just be a fluke.
I hurry to roll to the side, together with the four on top of me, and tumble onto the carpeted floor. Nikeh cries out in a high-pitched voice as she lands on Prince Zenon’s stomach butt-first. I’d probably shriek too if I did something so disrespectful.
In the meantime, a dull pain rings in my hips, meaning I probably didn’t stick the landing.
Everyone starts getting up, one by one. I hurry to my feet too, with no attention to spare for the pain in my hips, and rush to Rockmann’s side. He’s now sat up in bed.
“Hey, y-you’re Rockmann, right...?” I ask as I grab his shoulders and peer into his eyes.
“Yeah. Welcome back.”
First I draw close enough to tell the hairs of his long eyelashes apart; then I pull away and stare at his whole body for a while.
✦ ✦ ✦
He’s as beautiful as ever—a fact I can’t help but resent, and one other women likely envy him for. It’s pissing me off how there’s not a crease on his face. That’s not the problem here, though...
“That’s all you have to say?” I ask. “How about you explain that!”
His eyes and hair have turned black. His blond, sweetly fragrant hair, reminiscent of the color of honey and shining like gold, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s only deep black, like that of the depths of the earth. It makes the paleness of his skin stand out even more.
Gazing at his eyes, I realize they’re not completely black and still have a trace of red in them—as if something clouded over the original color with ink.
Rockmann rubs his eyes and yawns, staring at us. Looking at his small and quiet figure as he sits in bed, you might think of him as a frail, handsome youth if you didn’t know what he’s really like.
I let go of his shoulders, worried I’ll start to hurt him, and move away a little. But as the two of us are being rather easygoing about the situation, my friends finally speak up.
“Was it the dagger that did this to you?!” exclaims Nikeh.
“Was it the demon?!” adds Satanás.
The two of them approach the bed, leaning forward and pressing Rockmann for answers.
“Hey, wait, calm down.” Rockmann raises his hands and closes his eyes. “Hel, you know how your hair turned blue? It’s the same thing,” he states, nonchalantly deflecting our questions.
Look at him, bringing up my past without actually answering. He has no idea how I feel.
And in my case it was because my blood awakened to its powers, so clearly it’s not the same thing. His blood was already imbued with fire all the way back then, so he’d better not go acting like he was just trying out some new color-changing magic.
I consider what Nikeh brought up—the dagger. I always thought his womanizing ways might get him shanked one day, but to think it would actually happen...
A fairy tale about a little mermaid from a distant country springs to my mind—the heroine, left with the choice to cut out the heart of the prince she loves or turn to sea-foam, chooses to spare him at the last minute and succumb to her fate.
I’m not a fan of tragedies like that (they always stick with me longer than I like); that one in particular is one of the scant few I bothered to read from start to finish before I learned how to sniff out and decide against an unhappy ending ahead of time.
Yet here we are, in a reality where the prince sure as hell gets stabbed.
“I really need some sleep. Let’s talk later,” says Rockmann, before grabbing his blanket and plopping his head onto the pillow.
His breathing assumes an even rhythm almost immediately. Did he fall asleep in just a few seconds?
As we exchange glances, wondering what to do about the man deep in his Zs, the door creaks open.
“Is somebody here?”
Peeking from behind the door is a beautiful woman with blonde hair, her face much like Rockmann’s.