Stumbling from the bed.

Falling face first on the floor.

Dashing through the wooden door.

Rushing outside to feel the warm morning’s greeting.

And then puking at the end.

That set of sequences had been Pierrot’s daily morning routine. The nightmares still haunted him at night. They crept like vines that strangled his neck until everything around him darkened–and once the lights were out, his consciousness returned. He woke up.

It didn’t occur every single day, thankfully, but when it did, his inside felt like a raging wave, running and splashing amok. It engulfed him. Every time he tried to stay afloat, the current pulled him with no mercy–as long as he drowned, it would end.

But he kept pushing his head above the surface. Even when the stream filled his lungs and crushed his larynx, he kept struggling–one more breath would be enough. He knew this suffering would be worth it for one reason.

The sound of a voice.

“Breakfast is ready!”

….That sound.

Because of that voice, welcoming his morning with a warmth like no other.

Helena emerged from the cottage, her apron swaying in the wind. It was a scenery he knew he wouldn’t get bored with, even if the view had repeated itself hundreds of times.

Pierrot wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth. He had done this a few times, so the feeling of disgust was no longer there. He entered the cottage to find three plates resting on the table, steaming with their freshness and scent.

Besides the two plates brimming with rice, the plate in the middle had shrimp on it, coated in a thick broth. The steamed shrimp shimmered in the light brown pond, looking like a proper burial made to honor what was served. Soon, they sat down, inches away from enjoying this delicacy together.

“How’s your feeling?” Helena asked.

“It’s better now. Sorry for dirtying your front porch again.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you can control it,” Helena said. “Here, make sure to eat more of the soup. I sprinkled some herbals in it, so it might help.”

“Thank you.”

This behavior was normal coming from Helena, but Pierrot couldn’t praise it enough. It was clear as the bright blue sky above that Helena was skilled in taking care of someone. Such an experience didn’t just come and go–about how attentive she was and how her actions always aligned with one’s needs, she must have done this before.

Pierrot grabbed the spoon and began diving into this well-crafted delicacy. The sweet yet sour taste of the broth complemented the shrimp, each bite into it was satisfying as the umami gushed just the right amount. Having eaten this kind of food for the past 3 days, Pierrot was scared he could no longer be separated from such a taste.

This quiet life also helped Pierrot make another discovery.

Using only his left arm wasn’t as difficult as he had expected.

Even he was shocked by this revelation. Sometimes it felt as if his body had always performed these tasks using only an arm.

As he scooped his food with his left hand, he noticed how easy it had become now. Of course, it was still a bit of inconvenience, but he didn’t make as many blunders as before. Every movement that required his left arm slowly etched into his muscle memory, on its way to becoming Pierrot’s second nature.

Though at the end, it might be just him tricking himself that he could do it–just like how a placebo worked. But then again, it worked, and nothing else mattered.

Their breakfast ended with no problem. The plates and spoons were collected, waiting their turn to be cleaned up.

“Pierrot, can you rinse them with water? I need to tie my hair.”

“Of course.”

Another thing Pierrot noticed was that Helena relied on him more. She wasn’t as reluctant as before, conveying her need for help from time to time like a normal housemate. It was a nice change for Pierrot. Under the pretense of living together, he didn’t want to stay stagnant. Relishing this second chance of life without contributing something seemed like death to him..

He took pleasure in knowing that he was useful. Whether it was selfish, he saw nothing wrong with being proactive.

Both of them cooperated in cleaning the plates and spoons, resulting in spotless eating utensils. They left all of them to dry on the side. The towel beneath them stopped the water from making wet spots both on the counter and floor.

“What do you think? Should we go for a morning walk?” Helena asked, wiping her hands on the nearest napkin.

“Sure.”

Then off they go, walking towards the beautiful and colorful diorama that Helena had personally crafted with her two hands.

Pierrot was following from behind. The surrounding colors were pleasing to the eyes, and yet, Helena appeared to be the brightest there, as if the flowers beside them were the spotlight, giving all the shimmers and glimmers in the world only for her.

At least that was the scenery that Pierrot saw right now.

“....This is nice.”

“Hmm? What did you say?”

Only after Helena called him out when Pierrot realize he had just said his thoughts out loud. He scratched the back of his head, looking awkward. He couldn’t possibly say it was nice because Helena was captured in the view as well.

So he omitted that part–he was still being honest, for sure, but not completely.

“It’s just nice to see this kind of view every day,” he said. “It reminds me of my hometown, though here it is more vibrant. I can’t help but notice again how beautiful this place is.

Hearing Pierrot’s explanation, Helena grinned before letting out a chuckle. As usual, she hid her mouth with her hand, doing it so gently, like a delicate petal.

“W-what’s funny?” Pierrot asked.

“I just remember that this happened before. When we walked together for the first time.”

Her words clicked a memory within Pierrot’s mind, an awkward conversation that was riddled with misunderstanding at first. Pierrot remembered it once more, and he felt like this particular memory wouldn’t leave his head soon.

Helena slowed down her pace, and noticing that, Pierrot increased his speed and widened the distance in each step he took. They did so until both of them were side by side, walking together at a similar pace.

From time to time, they would kneel before a flower and pluck it. Helena had said that with both of them living together now, the cottage ought to have more colors. They would store it in a vase alongside other flowers they had picked as well. It seemed like a small gesture, but to Pierrot, it felt like Helena wanted to make the place as comfortable as possible for him.

Then again, it might be his mere imagination. Being too delusional wouldn’t be good for his own sake.

“So….” Helena began another conversation, both hands clasped behind her back. “What’s your hometown like?”

“That’s….It’s nothing special, really.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I also happen to be interested in knowing more about you.”

Pierrot thought about how easily those words could be misinterpreted, but he brushed it aside quickly.

“It’s a small village called Caria. Just go north from the capital and you will reach it. Since it’s small, everyone most likely knows everyone, but yeah…. Like I said, it’s nothing special.”

“North from the capital? So it’s close to the sea?”

“You can say that, though few people visit the village. It’s not a harbor, after all.”

It had been a while since he had thought about his hometown, so this conversation was a breath of fresh air. Looking at Helena who attentively listened also made it easier for him to speak, as if his next words were always being anticipated.

“Is that why you were fighting the rebel army?” Helena asked another question. “To protect your village from them?”

“Yes. I also thought I could make my family proud of doing such an honorable mission.” At one moment, Pierrot looked down, staring at his own feet. “But honestly, I wish for something else.”

“And what is that?”

“For the war to stop as soon as possible.”

For a soldier to say that, one might get ridiculed as a weak coward, where the sight of corpses and blood was life itself.

But Helena kept staring at him before saying her own piece. “I think that’s pretty honorable, too.”

Time had passed since they began conversing. Throughout the topics that changed from one to another, Helena suddenly quieted down, looking above at the sky. She was gauging what time it could be at the current moment, and after deciding that, she looked back at Pierrot.

“Ah, it’s time,” she said. “I need to go check the basket for a minute.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Pierrot already knew the answer, but considered no harm in asking again.

“It’s okay, you can go back first. I will be quick as usual!”

Every afternoon, Helena would go to check on the basket. He had tried to offer his help numerous times, but she insisted on him returning to the cottage. It felt as if she didn’t want him to see something–to understand something that would change his view towards everything, but her in particular.

Even though I was there the first time, Pierrot thought, remembering his first and last time venturing through the forest with him.

And to a certain degree, Pierrot felt that Helena still harbored some distrust towards him. To think in such a negative connotation about his savior left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew he had to discard such thoughts. Poisonous thoughts, and what remained was venom that corroded his image of Helena. But he couldn’t help it. After all, he was the same–not exactly negative thoughts, but some suspicions he wished could be answered sooner or later.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t have any guesses either.

He did, actually.

He did. He just didn’t want to confirm his suspicion.

Then again, it was her routine. It wasn’t his place to tell her what to do and what not to do.

“Huhhh….”

Pierrot only sighed. As if it answered him back, the wind hissed in his ears before leaving his side to wander off somewhere else.

Not long after that, Pierrot was back in the cottage. With a slight push, he opened the door which creaked ever so slightly. It only happened from time to time, though each time the sound rang into his ears, he was afraid that the door would leave its hinges, same as when he closed the door as the noise repeated itself. The seeping light narrowed down until the wooden wall completely blocked it.

As soon as the scenery changed, Pierrot dropped his shoulders. The quietness greeted him like an old friend, and the air–much cooler than the outside–soothed him in its embrace. Shadow enveloped everything before his eyes, staying still alongside his own shade. It would be around 10-15 minutes until Helena returned, so he had some time to kill.

But what lingered was his own thoughts. Looking around, darting his gaze from one spot to another–from the furniture, to the window, to the table, then ending with his own two feet–something tingled in his heart. His ears also began to buzz amidst this stillness. He didn’t know that such silence could be comforting yet also choking.

When will you come back?

And before noticing it, Pierrot wished Helena to return faster.

At that idea, Pierrot shook his head. He palmed his temple with an embarrassed look on his face.

It was in his best interest to do some cleaning here and there. Such an activity would distract his mind for a few minutes–exactly all he needed. So he did what he had planned to do. He swept the dust that had no chance of piling up yet and wiped the already spotless glasses even more spotless.

This plan worked in his favor as the passage of time had moved forward exactly 10 minutes. He didn’t realize that as he was too absorbed in his task. Just right in time, One, two, three–and it ended before the sound repeated itself in a continuous rhythm.

Pierrot walked towards the door. His hand had gone halfway on its way to grab the handle when he paused.

His expression darkened.

Did Helena usually knock on the door?

Did she?

Pierrot knew for a fact that Helena wouldn’t do that. Yes, she knocked the door to Pierrot’s room, and she would also knock the door to the bathroom if she weren’t that sure. But the front door of her own cottage? She wouldn’t, sometimes surprising Pierrot who was too lost in his own world.

Maybe she was carrying the basket, giving her a bit of a struggle when it came to openings and closing doors.

Maybe some branches cut her skin and hurt her hand, making it difficult for him to hold the handle.

Maybe she had fallen down just like him.

That was his reason for walking closer towards the door when–

“Excuse me, is there someone home?”

The sound of a man.

He grew more wary. That voice sounded friendly enough, but there was something a bit ominous about it–his question, asking whether someone was home or not, it seemed he knew the answer already. The person behind the door had noticed Pierrot’s presence, and there might be trouble that followed if he didn’t play together as an accomplice.

So Pierrot had to open the door. It could be Helena’s guests too! The chance was very slim, but it wasn’t zero. At least until Helena returned, he told himself to offer genuine and warm hospitality.

That being said, after taking a deep breath and exhaling it, he pushed forward. He brought his body closer to the door. For some reason, his only arm felt heavier than before. Pulling it up needed more strength than ever, though he persevered and managed to do it.

One push on the handle and the door opened, revealing a man standing upright.

An eyepatch covered his left eye. He seemed friendly enough, having his hair tied in a bun in such a neat fashion. There was also another figure behind him–clad by darkness.

“Good morning,” he said.

Pierrot’s eyes wandered around before they froze at the sight of an upside down cross–an emblem attached to the man’s chest. A single word appeared in his mind–

–Witch.

Then everything clicked.

The mystery behind Helena’s identity. About this secluded place. About the suspicion he had kept for the past few days. Everything came together into several puzzle pieces that his head put together.

And Pierrot knew for a fact that he couldn’t let Helena meet the man before his eyes at all costs.