Mess 137
by Cristae137.
Seraphie entered the library and slipped into its most secluded corner. There, on the shelf, stood a large glass jar containing a pristine white feather.
After setting the box on the shelf for a moment, Seraphie raised her hand to take the glass jar.
“I’ve failed completely.”
She laughed at herself. Despite countless vows and relentless caution not to grow attached to the people here, she found herself surrounded by those she cherished.
And among them, she met someone for whom no sacrifice would ever feel like too much.
“In my previous life, I never cared for anyone like this…”
Her hand, unwrapping a bandage coiled around the jar’s neck, suddenly halted.
As she recalled the passionate kiss she had shared with Orkis, the smile that had lingered on her lips faded until she grew deathly pale.
“…What?”
The dazed words trembled as they left her mouth.
“What, what is this?”
Startled, Seraphie stumbled backwards in shock. The glass jar slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
Yet it did not shatter—no sound was made when it hit.
Seraphie was too stunned to notice how strange that was.
“I’ve forgotten again…!”
Gasping for air, her breath came short and ragged.
“Again… again, I’ve forgotten…!”
Her trembling hands tore at her hair in desperation. In a broken, automatic chant, only short, disbelieving phrases spilled from her lips again and again.
Finally, she sank to the floor in a heap, tears streaming down her cheeks. At the same time, a memory long buried returned—her ultimate goal, lost in shadows until now.
Her desperate determination to return home, to the world she came from, surfaced like a hidden treasure brought to light.
But now, that treasure seemed oddly faded, as if its colors had been washed away.
The sight of it, so pale and diminished, filled Seraphie with terror and dread.
“This can’t be, how could this happen!”
She had taken every precaution not to forget her real purpose—the lengths she had gone to! And now, she had forgotten it all over again!
Seraphie had struggled endlessly not to forget her objective.
On the paper where she had jotted down dim memories of the original story, she had written, “Let’s go back to the real world!” She made sure to check that line every morning and night before bed.
But even that ritual had stopped at some point.
“No, before that…”
Where had she even put that paper?
Even that she couldn’t remember.
“Ah, ah…”
And then—someone’s face came to mind, and despair overtook her. For the first time, the purpose she had just recalled faltered.
The love she had felt, the love for which she was willing to give up everything, the foolish feeling she swore never to harbor here, now shook her to her core.
“What do I do…”
What do I do now…!
Paralyzed with fear, Seraphie could do nothing but cry helplessly.
“Sister.”
Startled, she quickly looked up and turned to the side.
“…Pr—Priest?”
There stood the priest who had so gently explained the meaning of her “burial alive”—who had told her, for her sake, it was best not to attempt it.
The priest regarded Seraphie with an enigmatic smile.
As if gently scolding a child for a little mistake.
“H-How are you here…?”
“Sister, for now you must forget.”
Just as Seraphie narrowed her wide eyes and glared at him, it happened.
“Wha…?”
In the blink of an eye, the priest was right before her, reaching out his hand towards her face.
In that moment, Seraphie’s gaze slackened and unfocused, as if her entire being was lost in a trance.
Her whole body grew heavy, as though plunging into deep water.
“The ‘Wings’ have not yet been gathered in full.”
The glass jar on the floor lifted into the air. The half-unwrapped bandage unraveled itself, and with a pleasant pop, the cork came off.
“Wings…”
Seraphie echoed the word, like a child repeating an adult.
At the signal of her weary voice, the feathers that had been stored in the paper box floated into the jar of their own accord.
Yet even watching that, Seraphie did not flinch or recoil.
It all felt profoundly familiar, wholly natural.
“‘Wings’ are a price.”
The priest took the jar, still hanging in the air.
“Each time you fulfill a task given to you, a feather will appear at your side.”
“I have a question…”
Her voice was oddly weak and thin.
“Why, at the tribunal, didn’t a feather…”
“You’re asking why none appeared?”
Even in this surreal moment, the priest was impressed by Seraphie’s dogged willpower, and replied with unexpected courtesy.
“The enforced succession trial was nothing more than the first step in fulfilling your promise to us.”
“Pro…mise…?”
What promise?
What had she agreed to, with whom?
No matter how she tried, she could not remember. It was as if she was sinking endlessly into the deep sea.
No—more than that, it was the reverse.
Everything else was lost in the depths, while her body kept floating up toward the surface.
So she couldn’t reach her memories; no matter how she flailed, there was nothing to grasp.
“When you found the land abandoned by the gods—no feather appeared then, either.”
Now the jar in the priest’s arms was once again tightly sealed.
“Those lands are a different kind of price, for another promise.”
“……”
What in the world is this ‘promise’?
A faint line appeared between Seraphie’s brows.
“Sister.”
The priest placed the glass jar in her hands.
“It’s not time yet.”
“……”
“So forget these moments, and entrust yourself to your twisted fate.”
Insane, that’s what that is.
Seraphie thought with what little awareness she could cling to, mentally cursing—Bastard, you’re just the type to be buried alive, choked with a rosary and sent straight to heaven.
So easy to speak when the burden isn’t yours.
“That is the promise between us.”
You mad priest.
“A promise… something like…”
Seraphie tried to speak, straining for every word. But her eyelids grew heavier still, and soon could not remain open.
“Heavens, dear sister.”
The priest’s eyes went wide, as if genuinely startled.
“To see you so spirited—clearly, you’re recovered in full.”
With that final remark, he took a step back.
“You’re doing splendidly, Sister.”
If only burying you alive was my proudest accomplishment. Seraphie fought desperately to hold onto consciousness.
“When all things come to an end…”
But when at last her eyes closed completely—
“……”
Seraphie opened her eyes, as if waking from sleep.
She looked down at the feathers inside the jar in her hands, staring at them intently.
“…I’ve really collected a lot.”
She lifted the jar, studying it; her own face reflected clearly in its surface, blue eyes glinting beneath blinking lashes.
“They’d make the perfect pillow stuffing…”
It seemed almost a waste to keep such fine feathers locked in a jar, but she set it back on the shelf with a sigh.
She was alone in the library.
“Oh my.”
Stepping out of the library, Seraphie found Orkis chatting with Loony.
“What are you two doing there?”
She’d thought they were resting with the others.
As Seraphie approached, they each showed her a newly arrived letter—an envelope sealed with the imperial insignia.
Her eyes narrowed at the sight.
“A courier from the palace arrived just moments ago,” said Orkis.
“I’m honestly more shocked the palace even knew Lady Felicia was here in Validus,” Loony said, sounding overwhelmed.
As for herself, it made sense for Seraphie’s name to appear on an invitation; she lived here. But to actually give one for Orkis, too…
“It’s not so strange—being at one’s beloved’s home often,” Orkis replied nonchalantly, though his tone was almost boastful.
“…Really.”
Just like Penny’s brother would.
“You two are equally shameless.”
“Why, thank you.”
“It’s an insult!”
Still bickering, the three boarded their carriage. Loony, especially, could not stop chiding Orkis along the way.
“Do you know how startled I was that time?”
“I do not.”
“Ugh, I swear—should I split your forehead in two and drum on both halves out of tune…”
“If I may ask, though—”
Orkis inquired, perplexed.
“Where in the world do you learn such invective?”
“Seraphie, of course.”
Loony immediately pointed straight at Seraphie.
“It wasn’t me.”
“Oh please, it was. The other day, after seeing that noble’s invitation, you said you’d mop their brains with a rolling pin—”
“Kiss, you believe me, right? Hm?”
Did I really say anything like that?
Seraphie pressed her hands together in mock prayer and blinked wide, innocent eyes.
“Ugh.” Loony shuddered.
“Whenever Seraphie speaks, her words are always song and honeyed temptation,” Orkis said with gravity.
“……”
Loony wanted nothing more than to fling open the carriage door and leap out, even at the cost of injury.
Seraphie always said she was the one with no self-restraint, but it was clear now the other two were far worse.
“Carl!”
Arriving at the palace, Loony found Carl waiting in the parlor.
After enduring a barrage of sweetness from Seraphie and Orkis in the carriage, she was sincerely relieved to see him—but she could not greet him with pure joy.
The fact that he was here meant that the Emperor had already learned of what happened in Iris.
“You should rest…”
She muttered petulantly, grumbling (and perhaps cursing the Emperor, though no one commented).
“But I am glad to see you,” Carl said honestly, cupping her cheek.
“……”
She started to reply, then pressed her lips shut.
He looked exhausted, worn to the bone. But when someone is doing their utmost to be strong, what comfort can you offer?
“To see the four of us gathered…”
Seraphie glanced around at the small group in the waiting room.
“It’s not just because of Iris,” she thought.
The persons most involved in Iris were, strictly speaking, Carl and herself.
Carl, as the culprit’s son, and Seraphie, who had acted as something like the Emperor’s secret agent.
“……”
One thing was certain: whatever summoned them here was going to be a dreadful hassle.
After a brief wait, a steward arrived.
“His Majesty is expecting you. If Sir Iris would come first and follow me…”
He began by escorting Carl, then called Loony and then Orkis out, one after another.
Naturally, Seraphie was left for last. She watched the time it took each of the three to return.
Carl, who had gone in first, was back in less than ten minutes.
His face was still tired, but there was a new, determined energy about him, as if he’d found resolve.
Loony was called in second.
She did not return for nearly an hour.