Were they playing at war? Children naturally liked battles. I wasn't surprised because I encountered it several times during the war.
"What? I don't like Andert. Then I'd have to die at the hands of the Great Mage Mephisto. I'm Raphael!"
However, my arms stopped in the air while I was planting. I died once, although it's strange to hear that with my own ears. Yes, Andert was dead. But somehow I was alive. I was no longer Andert. But inside me, Andert still lived. The gap between the two sometimes felt eerie and strange. Not occasionally, but frequently.
Although the children disappeared, the neighborhood remained noisy throughout the planting. Is there a festival going on? The smell of savory bread came from the backyard.
After finishing my work and approaching the open kitchen window, the housemaid served me tea. "It's noisy outside."
The maid, with her arms resting on the window frame, looked at me with amazed eyes. "Miss Daisy is really very indifferent to the world. Today is Peace Day."
"Peace Day?" What was that?
"A day to celebrate victory in the Magic War. Today is the fourth anniversary. It's common knowledge here, so keep that in mind."
The day of the end of the war. Today was the day. That's why I had that horrible nightmare in the morning. While sipping tea as I leaned against the window wall, I noticed a newspaper lying on the kitchen table. The headline on the front page of the newspaper was adorned with large letters: [Fourth Anniversary Celebration of Peace Day, Grand Duke Raphael was absent this year.]
This year, Grand Duke Raphael Zenail Penrotta will be absent from the fourth anniversary of Peace Day. This is due to the delay in the Grand Duke's overseas schedule, which is packed... Grand Duke Raphael. Entering the kitchen, I grabbed a chair to sit on and opened the newspaper. It was a very impulsive action, and I regretted the impulsiveness when I saw my old friend's face embedded on one side of the paper, in front of me.
"It's the same." From head to toe. The image of him four years ago stuck like a nail in my memory; it was the same. "Four years is not a long time."
Raphael. The name turned bitter in my mouth.
Truthfully, I had deliberately avoided news about my former colleagues since waking up on Queen Island. It was to avoid a situation where I fell into complex and negative feelings regardless of one-dimensional concepts like like and dislike. They say clothes are like wings. You look like an aristocrat to the bone in such a nice suit.
In the newspaper, Raphael didn't look much different from when we met fourteen years ago. This was one of the changes people went through when they reached an outstanding level while making magic. The rate of aging slowed rapidly. Blonde hair as bright as the sun. Dark red eyes that glowed with a crimson sheen whenever light fell on them. The straight eyebrows that had always been stiff, the eyes where laughter never reached, the medium large and high nose. In the middle of his cheekbones, a dimple as deeply embedded as a well sometimes appeared. Was it because of those dimples? On the rare occasions he burst out laughing, he broadcasted a child's soft, innocent aura. Or was it the soft cheekbones? Truly, his smile was the opposite of his serious, old-man tone.
"I can't turn my back on anyone but you, Andert. You're the only one I can trust. It might sound funny, but I often find myself thinking that if I had a long-lost brother, it would be you." On the nights we were covered with the blood of the demons we killed, Raphael was soaked in such shameful feelings. Brother, best friend, partner, family, better half.
There were many affectionate names he used to call me, but sometimes I found Raphael's affection too much. I thought that if I took off the mask as Andert, his affection would also disappear.
"Stop right now, Andert! You can't die! I won't let you die this way!" That scream-like sound was our last exchange. I remembered not being able to turn my back on him because I was afraid my heart would break.
"It's a terrible memory, no matter how much I think about it." Looking back on the past, I missed Raphael a little. Furthermore, I was curious. How did the war end after my death? Didn't I bother you by leaving without saying anything? If you have a lot of resentment, could you ever forgive me? Do those days come back to haunt you as nightmares as they do me? Are they enough to make you break into a shameful cold sweat even after facing them through paper like this? Do you feel shortness of breath and illusions of having a suffocated and heavy heart...? Like this?
I took a deep breath. A steaming plate of stew fell onto the newspaper. A shadow that rose over the table behind me and disappeared as if it had just passed, spoke: "Meals are only allowed during meal times."
Was there ever a time when Rue's voice sounded so pleasant? ...It has meat. I picked up the spoon with that thought, blankly. Before I knew it, the maid was sitting at the head of the table and Rue was sitting opposite me, dipping his bread in the stew and eating it. "Agh." It's terribly hot. I looked at the maid, calming my palate burned by the hot stew.
"What are you doing on Peace Day?"
"Peace Day is a public holiday. At home, people eat bread to celebrate Peace Day, in temples public prayer of blessing is performed, and in the plaza a flea market is held. All proceeds generated go to the Magic War refugee shelter. Market merchants also donate part of their profits."
It was a good holiday. I should take this opportunity to go to the pub. After eating and washing the dishes, I ran to the housemaid who was smoking and held out my hand. "Errand. Let me do it."
"The only thing you're looking for is to jump ship and go play. Although we just ran out of sewing thread."
Good. With this, I could sneak into the pub pretending to visit the market. The market was a bit quieter than usual. Perhaps because it was a holiday, the old potato seller was nowhere to be found. I needed to check if the merchants were reimbursed for the money for the seats they had paid for so far. I spent a while looking at this and that in the general store.
"A 'Profitable Sewing Thread Set for Maids,' please."
"Is that all for today? If you have time, stop at another store beforehand, miss. All our market stores have big discounts this week. They sell fresh fruits, vegetables and meat, all cheap. Best to buy it now," said the grocery store owner, who brought out the goods as if he had been waiting, while receiving the money.
"Peace Day discount?"
"Eh? Well, it could also be for Peace Day. Actually, the guys who had been bothering us for years suddenly repented." The owner of the Western-style shop in the building opposite me, who was chatting with the general store, said a few words. "Yes. They paid four years of market seat rent in one go."
"There's more than one or two people who have closed their business because of them. I heard that a righteous man made a scene at 'Pub: Peace Land' a few days ago. He must have scolded them harshly. Who could it be?"
It was me. "He's a hero who eradicates the cancer of society, of course! For people like us, a real hero is a righteous man. Who do you think it could be? Do you think it could be from our neighborhood?"
Me. "I wish I could see his face at least once. Everyone will get together to invite them to eat." "I'll make him a nice custom suit." "I heard the brother from the photo studio also takes photos. Why don't we save money and put it in a newspaper ad? Eh?"
I left the warehouse pretending not to hear them; at this rate I might end up in a newspaper. I walked to the pub and left a few words. "I lost something in the pub. I forgot it here by accident."
Alright, that was natural. But don't pubs open at night? As I tried to step back, I checked the sign on the door and stopped. [Lunch available.] What kind of pub sells lunches? Is this the butler-assassin's work? But it was effective. It wouldn't be strange for a maid to come and go if it were open during the day. More information would also arrive. The inside of the pub was so quiet that the colorless sign faded from my mind. It would be hard to attract customers in just one day, as it was the main camp for those who used violence to collect seat taxes.
"Lost item." I leaned on the bar and held out my hand. The bartender, who was cleaning the glasses, took a chocolate out of the cabinet and handed it to me along with a note from his pants pocket.
"Here's the butler captain's note, miss maid captain." The whisper sounded quite serious. The butler-assassin must have educated you thoroughly. As expected, it was best for experienced people to come forward in this kind of work.
At that moment, the former executives who were sweeping the floor gathered and naturally came up behind me and whispered. "You'll be surprised. I have children everywhere and I have information." "We're a secret guild acting secretly in the dark. Hehehehe..."
I think something was fundamentally wrong with the people here. I warned them as I walked away from the bar. "Don't call me captain." The executives tilted their heads. "His name..." "What's your name? Again?" They really fit.