“You look happy.”

Having been silent for a while, Enfir finally spoke up.

“Hmm? Are you sure?”

Then Malin asked, which Enfir answered with a simple nod.

It was their second time walking between the vast flower beds, though the direction was the opposite–they had entered, now they exited. The scenery still awed Malin as his eyes eased into such a beautiful view, bringing a feeling of nostalgia he thought had disappeared a long time ago.

Malin massaged his face. There was a noticeable crease around his lips, meaning he had been smiling this whole time.

“Maybe it’s that obvious, huh?” he asked before letting out a laugh. Enfir–still behind him–heard it from start to finish. “It’s just that I didn’t think that guy would ask his last question! Either he is dumb or just very innocent.”

“Probably the former.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s bad at all. He has guts, and that makes it more fun.”

Enfir put two and two together. “Is that why we’re leaving? Waiting for him to make a blunder is fun?”

“And do you mind that?”

“No. Just asking.”

They stepped into the forest, engulfed in shadow which dominated the light seeping from above. Malin looked around, seeing the leaves rustling as the wind brushed them aside.

“After all that I’d heard about Whispering Forest, it turned out to be quite lackluster. Where are the whispers people usually talk about?”

“It might be because of the weakening barrier.”

“That’s true, but I was hoping for something more exhilarating, you know!” Malin spread his arms. “But that guy made it up for me. Even in his situation, he still fought back, going as much as interrupting me not once but three times. So at least I want to give him some level of respect.”

“Even if he didn’t respect you back?”

While still treading the path, Malin looked back and shrugged his shoulders. “Enfir, you can’t demand someone’s respect. It’s his choice whether he wants to respect me.”

His tone sounded like a father scolding his child. Enfir paid no attention to it.

“So what’s the plan? Are we really leaving?”

“Of course not. I’m sure he lives with a Witch, and coincidentally, I’m also sure he knows that I lied.”

A few minutes of walking led them to the edge of Whispering Forest. Five faces greeted them, pale and sweating. Exhaustion had hit some of them. One didn’t need to enter this forest to feel their energy being sapped due to fear and anxiety.

“Right now, they are like cornered rats. All we need to do is make sure they can’t run away.” Malin looked at the five soldiers around them. “Spread out around the edge of this forest. Just stay at your station and immediately signal others if you see any movement, strange things happening, or even when you’re just scared. That still means something, after all.”

Sealing their exit.

It was Malin’s plan all along. He had counted on the size of Whispering Forest which was on the smaller side. That, accompanied by the fact Samudra Sea was on the opposite side, Pierrot and his living partner had only one path to go.

“Do you want me to wall the area?” Enfir asked.

“No need. Let’s give them a chance.”

“You keep trying to have fun.”

“Well, it’s not like you get this kind of chance very often.”

A grin smeared Malin’s face. One look at him and everyone knew he was having fun.

“So now, what’s your move, Sir Pierrot?”

***

Pierrot didn’t know what to say, let alone know what to do.

The opened window alarmed him at first, but the moment he saw the floor, every thought and caution he had before vanished in an instant, leaving through that same opened window.

Helena was laying flat on the floor. Her face reddened when she saw Pierrot suddenly burst into her room.

“H-hi….” That was all Helena could muster.

She didn’t even know whether she wanted to go back up or just stay there, feeling the cold caress of the wood planks beneath her.

“W-when did you–”

–Return?

Seeing this peculiar scene, Pierrot had wanted to ask that. If his memory served him right, Helena would still be outside now. Of course, the opened window was a hint on its own, but Pierrot felt the need to confirm that.

Still, he paused. He found it inappropriate to ask that when there was something far more important to say now.

He focused his sight once more on Helena’s face. Under the embarrassment from (probably) falling down through the window, she looked pale. Sweat lined up on her forehead, and if he heard it right, her breathing was ragged too. To say she looked okay would be to ignore the clear signs that she was feeling unwell.

It wasn’t the time to bombard her with questions.

And the least he could do was….

“....Take my hand.”

Pierrot offered his left hand. His sudden gesture stunned Helena for a bit. It took her a few seconds to compose herself, and in that span of time, he didn’t pull his hand yet–still waiting for that hand, smaller yet rough with callouses, to take his.

There was a hesitant look on Helena’s face. From above, her eyes seemed to melt into the surrounding–clear surfaces that reflected the light similar to that of a mirror. On it, Pierrot saw both the eyes gazing up at him and himself. Just right under her left eye, there was a horizontal cut. The color red smeared around that part, though it seemed the bleeding had stopped.

Amidst this silence that transpired between them, Helena finally reached her hand out. Once she did, Pierrot pulled her up until both of them stood closely. If their height had been the same, they would have been staring at each other face to face. Her conflicted expression would have been more apparent.

“T-thank you,” Helena stuttered.

Pierrot tried to look for the best words he could utter now.

At the end, however, he knew something simple would work better.

So he said.

“Welcome back, Helena.”

Her eyes widened, not expecting to receive such words.

Thus, she mustered her best smile at the moment.

“I’m back.”

After a while, both of them moved to the living room. Helena held a cup of glass, a courtesy from Pierrot. For now, he kept standing. The long talk he had with Malin made his bottom a little sore. Besides, if there were anything to happen, he wanted to be on both feet to act quickly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

Helena nodded. Due to how dejected she looked, it wouldn’t be a surprise to hear only silence from her. At first, he was afraid that would be the case, so it was a relief to see at least she wanted and could respond.

And on the opposite side, Helena also noticed that her gloom affected Pierrot. His eyes were cast down, looking grim as the floor was all that he could see. It must have been very exhausting for him to handle those visitors on his own.

Without him here, no one knew what would have happened.

Or, to be more accurate, Helena would know, but she didn’t want to.

The fact was that Pierrot had taken the matters to his hand.

She pursed her lips before exhaling a whiff of air through her mouth.

She must be thankful to him.

She needed to express it.

And yet–

“Sorry.”

–She apologized.

“I’m really sorry.”

The guilt dragged her heart through the mud. With every layer of dirt and sludge attached to her body, even uttering words became too heavy.

Still, she didn’t want to drag Pierrot down with her.

“I’m feeling okay now. Please don’t worry about me.”

Sure enough, Pierrot didn’t buy that.

Of course I can’t do that.

He had never seen Helena in this state. The few days when they had been together told him that she was bigger than this—a presence that had always sheltered him with light. She lowered her shoulders while the glimmer in her hair appeared to vanish, though it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. It was indeed a moment of rarity. Having thought and considered all possibilities that led her to this, he could only think of one answer.

And in the end, he couldn’t keep quiet forever.

“Were you listening?”

“Eh?”

Pierrot looked at her. “Back then with that stranger, were you listening to our conversation?”

The cup was still in her hand, clutched in both palms.

“....Yes.”

“And how much did you hear?”

“I don’t know. But everything that was important, I listened to.”

Including the talk about a Witch then? Pierrot had almost asked that before noticing how stupid his question sounded.

Looking at her expression, how she acted, how she spoke….It all led to one inescapable conclusion.

That she had listened to Pierrot’s conversation with Malin.

Pierrot didn’t know whether that was for better or worse. Sure, he had spoken loudly to alert Helena in case she had returned earlier, but right now, it felt as if he was putting her on the spot. He should have known better.

Nonetheless, he had to face forward. Doubt clouded his mind, but still, he could only do nothing without understanding the bigger picture. Something must be done, and right now, only he could do it.

With both hands on his waist, Pierrot flashed the brightest smile he could make.

“He was a crazy guy, wasn’t he?”

“Huh?”

“I mean like saying that you’re a Witch. Something must be really–and I mean really–wrong with his head. Spouting nonsense like that, if I were him, I would be really embarrassed–and I mean really embarrassed.”

By acting oblivious, Pierrot wished he could defuse the tension that had permeated the air for a while. If he had to be honest, he still had suspicion towards her–Malin’s appearance had only strengthened that thought. But at this moment, none of it mattered. None of it–

“It’s okay, Pierrot.”

–mattered, for Helena–

“I appreciate your concern, but really….”

–who had this pained smile on her face.

“H-Helena?”

At his question, she stood. Her golden hair traced against her cloth, shimmering in brilliance that seemed otherworldly. Stars that shone in each strand mesmerized any peering eyes, including Pierrot, who found himself unable to turn his sight away from her. However, as they slid down from her shoulder to the sides, Pierrot couldn’t help but think of it as a veil, hiding Helena’s face and expression.

To such a scene, breathtaking and melancholic, Pierrot saw her as being more sheltered than ever.

Then she turned around. Each step led her to the kitchen. She grabbed something.

To be more accurate, it was a knife.

“Hel–”

It happened all too quickly. Pierrot didn’t even have a chance to blink.

Stab!

Dripping.

Blood began to drip.

Each drop came from Helena’s hand–from her left palm.

Splash, splash, splash.

For the first few seconds, that sound was all that Pierrot could hear. The sound of Helena’s blood, which dyed the floor crimson red, one drop after another into a bigger pool that would soon leave its mark. The stench hit his nose, and at that moment, the image of the battlefield found its way into his head.

“Urkkk!”

His stomach gargled. This sensation was too familiar for his own good. To his best, he rejected this displeasing feeling that crawled to his throat and calmed himself down–though with the scene before his eyes, he couldn’t do that.

A bit of saliva that escaped through the gap between his lips, Pierrot wiped it off. “H-Helena! W-what did you do?!”

Helena still said nothing. Instead, with sweat covering her pale-colored face, she walked in a different direction towards a vase. In it were several flowers, their colors complemented each other. She ended up grabbing one of them.

Then, what happened next seemed to last only for a couple of seconds. Amidst this moment, Pierrot suddenly remembered something–that second piece of information regarding Witches.

–The power they possessed defied the law of the world itself–

There was a soft light covering the flower in her hand. It radiated this warmth for a while, which caressed every petal with gentle taps. Slowly, however, each petal became too heavy for the flower to carry. One by one, they obeyed the gravity and let themselves rest with such ease on her hand. And as if it was trying to say its last piece before the farewell, the flower dropped its petals, each one swaying on the wind like waving goodbye.

“This is who I am.”

Looking right at Helena, Pierrot saw what had supposed to be her injured hand healed up. What remained was the color red adorning her skin, though the hole in her palm had disappeared alongside that small, horizontal cut on her cheek.

Her hand returned to normal.

“By taking the life force from another being, I can heal myself or others.”

Ethereal yet ominous.

Miraculous yet corrupting.

That was the nature of the Witch’s power.

And as if that weren’t all, he gazed up into Helena’s eyes. It was the first time he saw what it meant to be a Witch with his own two eyes.

Helena’s right pupil changed shape into a golden four-leaf clover, its edges blinking in tiny sparks just like stars shimmering in the night sky. Each petal resembled that of a heart, delicate and beautiful–an ironic depiction compared to everyone’s precognition about the danger Witches brought to the world.

If Luminants had the color of their irises changed, it would be the shape of their pupils for the Witches.

But–

“–It’s only one eye,” Pierrot muttered.

Based on everything Pierrot had heard, a Witch would have her both eyes turned into a different form. Certainly, Helena’s case was different.

“This is something that I discovered with my master,” she said, her fingers caressing the area under her right eye. “I possess a characteristic of a Witch but not completely. M-maybe I’m actually a half-Witch?”

After saying that, she forced a chuckle, trying to humor herself.

It didn’t change the fact that she possessed this Witch-like power.

Pierrot figured it out. The dead flowers he saw behind the cottage and the abnormal healing rate on what was left of his right arm–putting both together, he realized how Helena had healed him.

It all made sense now to Pierrot. In fact, it scared him a little. All the puzzle pieces fit perfectly next to each other. He found it difficult to deem everything that had occurred so far as a mere coincidence.

Pierrot clenched his fist, digging into his own skin with his fingers.

“....I’m sorry for lying.”

Hearing Helena’s words, Pierrot stopped his thought process. Her tone was solemn, engulfed in the guilt that weighed her apology even further. Witches weren’t exactly welcomed by many, and in such a scenario, only disdain was thrown at them–no matter whether they resisted or not.

“That man was looking for me, wasn’t he?” she continued. “If it’s not a bother to you, please leave this place now. I can’t put you at risk too.”

Even now, she was still thinking about him.

A man she had just known for a few days, yet she had done so much for him–too many to count.

Pierrot didn’t know the reason nor could understand her reasoning.

But he knew that the reason didn’t matter now.

In fact, it didn’t matter at all.

Same with the bravery Helena showed, he had to return the same conviction–no, even more.

He breathed in and out.

Then he asked, “When you found me, did you also take a sword?”

“N-no,” Helena answered, a bit startled by that sudden question.

“What about here? Do you have any weapons?”

She shook her head this time.

“I see….” Pierrot then looked at the broom in the corner of the cottage before walking towards it. “It’s fine. This will do.”

“What will you….” Her words got quieter. It wasn’t long until she realized Pierrot’s intention, her eyes–now had returned to normal–widened. “D-don’t say that you will–”

“–This is our best option now.”

If the worst comes…. Pierrot shut his eyes ….I will fight them.